7 DECEMBER 1991, Page 31

Young love revealed at last

Frances Partridge

SONG OF LOVE: THE LE I ERS OF RUPERT BROOKE AND NOEL OLIVIER, 1909-1915 edited by Pippa Harris Bloomsbury, £1799, pp. 302

hen Rupert Brooke succumbed to blood-poisoning from a mosquito bite and was buried on the Greek island of Skyros in 1915, his death was, for some reason, taken as a symbol for those of innumer- able war heroes, some of them also poets, many of them equally brilliant and charm- ing. At the time, his poetry was greatly admired, and though it has dropped out of fashion it may well be re-assessed some day, though the war sonnets are perma- nently outshone by those of Wilfred Owen. Brooke's death aroused an outburst of printed emotion, and in due course the let- ters and memories of most of those he had loved were made available; but although it was known to all his friends that his first and deepest love had been felt for Noel Olivier, she consistently refused to discuss her relationship with Rupert, or show his letters even to her children, or close friends like David Garnett, who pressed her to publish them. They became, in fact, to many, including myself, a source of intense if intermittent curiosity, much like

that of Henry James' hero in The Aspem Papers. Now here they are, published along with Noel's to Rupert, and carefully edited by Noel's granddaughter.

It is a rare and deeply interesting experi- ence to read both sides of a correspon- dence between two young people, one at least of whom had outstanding gifts and was deeply in love. The result is a living organism, at times painfully so — that is to say, raw-nerved and bleeding. It is impossi- ble to guess what would have happened without the intervention of fate, just as it is impossible not to speculate about it. Both of their characters were flawed: Rupert's in that it concealed a conflict between sensu- ality and puritanism, which led to serious mental breakdown under stress, Noel's more inscrutably, possibly by difficulty in making up her mind and avoidance of decisions.

Let us have a look at the verdicts of their contemporaries and friends. Of Rupert, James Strachey (who also loved Noel) told me that he was a cleverer but less attractive character than many people realised, and later on he became definitely paranoiac. David Garnett wrote that he had 'a careless animal grace and a face made for smiling and teasing'. To me he once said:

If a miracle happened and I heard Rupert was alive in Australia I would cross the world for the pleasure of his company.

And for Virginia Woolf,

His brain was both a fine instrument and a strong one. None of those who knew him can forget him.

Of Noel, Jacques Raverat, the painter, wrote:

She had an admirable head . . . the face very regular and inexpressive, even a bit hard. But it was lit up as if by the beam of a lighthouse when she turned her large grey eyes to you. One could hardly bear their gaze . .. they seemed to promise infinite happiness and

wonderful love to whoever would win her.

The two met first in 1908, when Rupert was 20. and up at Cambridge, Noel only 15 and still a schoolgirl. Most of their associ- ates were either at Cambridge or old Bedalians, and a form of paganism, Fabianism and the Marlowe Dramatic Society combined to shape their values and interests. The four Olivier daughters, children of Sir Sydney (Governor of Jamaica), Frances Cornford, Gwen Darwin and Ka Cox were the most popular of the girls; Rupert and Justin Brooke, the poet Bekassy, Jacques Raverat and David Garnett of the young men. They were a lively lot, whose freedom in such matters as irreligion, naked bathing, mixed camping and falling in and out of love put them ahead of most of their contemporaries, but a long way behind the sexual promiscuity of today. One must remember that the Great War was still six years ahead, and Marie Stopes was ten. Theirs was a middle-class society in which mothers played a powerful part, and their clumsy chaperonage put a repressive clamp on sexual appetites. Though Noel was in many ways a child, still thinking about hockey matches, she already had several serious admirers, including Rupert. His first letter is dated March 1909, and is written with the typical exhibi- tionism and jocose high spirits of 21 — but a remarkable 21. In spite of an element of vorrei e non vorrei, Noel seems to hold out a restraining hand in her replies. When Rupert plans to visit her at school she `wishes he weren't coming but daren't say so for fear of offending his pride'. The pat- tern repeats itself until a camp at Buckler's Hard, which is the scene of a declaration and a secret engagement, and is probably the happiest time in the relationship. After this the letters take off like a couple of turbulent streams tearing down a mountain side, parting, joining and parting again. Nothing is simple in the feelings between these two, but while Rupert is tossed by conflicting passions, he is often exasperated by Noel's calm, clear-eyed serenity. In an exceptionally long letter she Writes with painful honesty of 'the awful difference between their loves . . . the thin, evil feelings I have about you'. Rupert cannot stand her commitment to her family, and the situation is complicated when his old friend and confidante, Ka `-cm, presses forward onto the scene. Frustrated and confused, he escapes to Ka's welcoming arms. The result is a Puritan reaction against her and a serious breakdown, followed by the change of Personality described by James Strachey as paranoia.

In her diary, Virginia Woolf writes of Meeting Noel eight years after Rupert's death. Yes, Rupert had changed, she said: But when she reads his love letters — beauti- ful, beautiful love letters — real love letters, she said — she cries and cries.

It Was more than Noel revealed to any- one else.