Glenn Zucman

To Virginia from Vita

Luxor, Egypt

29 January 1926

The only way I can deal with Egypt is as Molly MacCarthy did with Christmas, alphabetically:

Amon, Americans, alabaster, Arabs; bromides, buffaloes, beggars, Bronx; camels, crocodiles, colossi, Cook’s; donkeys, dust, dahabeeaths, dragomen, dervishes, desert; Egyptians, Evian; fezzes, fellaheen, feluccas, flies, fleas; Germans, goats, granite; hotels, hieroglyphics, hoopoes, Horus, hawkes; Isis, imshi, irrigation, ignorance; jibbahs; kites, Kinemas, Kodaks; lavatories, lotus, Levantines; mummies, mud, millionaires; Nubia, Nile; ophthalmia, Osiris, obsidian, obelisks; palms, pyramids, parrokeets; quarries; Rameses, ruins; sunsets, sarcophagi, steamers, soux, sand, shadoofs, stinks, Sphinx; temples, tourists, trams, Tut-ankh-amen; Uganda; vultures, Virginia; water-bullocks, warts; Xerxes, Xenophon; yaout; zest, (my own).

I miss you horribly, and apart from that am permanently infuriated by the thought of what you could make of this country if only you could be got here. You see, you ought to. However, that sounds too much like your own parody of my probable letters, so I’ll refrain from saying it.

Your V

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To Harold from Vita

Long Barn

20 June 1926

Clive follows me all over the place. Have I been to bed with Virginia yet? If not, am I likely to do so in the near future? If not, will I please give it my attention? As it is high time Virginia fell in love.

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To Vita from Virginia

52 Tavistock Square

8 August 1926

Yes, it does seem hard, that we should make you spend all the fine weather with your nose to the pen. But think of your glory; and our profit, which is becoming a necessary matter, now that your puppy has destroyed, by eating holes, my skirt, ate Leonard’s proofs, and done such damage as could be done to the carpet—But she is an angel of fight. Leonard says seriously she makes him believe in God…and this after she has wetted his floor 8 times in one day.

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To Harold from Vita

Long Barn

30 November 1926

I’m alone. It is very cold and wet. I have got Virginia coming for the weekend. Darling, I know that Virginia will die, and it will be too awful. (I don’t mean here, over the weekend; but just die young.) I went to Tavistock Square yesterday, and she sat in the dusk in the light of the fire, and I sat on the floor as I always do, and she rumpled my hair as she always does, and she talked about literature and Mrs Dalloway Sir Henry Taylor and she said that you would resent her next summer. But I said, no you wouldn’t. Oh Hadji, she is such an angel. I really adore her. Not ‘in love’ — just love — devotion. Her friendship has enriched me so. I don’t think I have ever loved anybody so much, in the way of friendship; in fact, of course, I know I haven’t. She knows that you and I adore each other. I have told her so.

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To Vita from Virginia

52 Tavistock Square

8 February 1927

Yes yes yes I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.

Your Virginia

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To Virginia from Vita

Long Barn

Weald Sevenoaks

1 June 1927

Darling, I know you are slipping off your pillows, and failing to reach the telephone, having genius perhaps as Hugh says for writing books, but less talent than anybody I ever knew for making yourself comfortable. I hope you may have letters, especially those that need no answer. Such as mine. I worry about you dreadfully, and Mother has sent you a box of chocolates (for you and Leonard) thinking you were coming here tomorrow. So I shall keep them till you do come. I will try not to eat them myself but won’t promise.

Oh my dear, I do hope you are getting better.

Your V