Joy of writing

Good Friday, March 25th., Hotel Belvedere, Lausanne.

Six days of perfect weather with a N. and N.W. wind and nothing visible all day in the strong sunshine. 

I was able to begin the final chapters of the second part of "Clayhanger" without much difficulty on Tuesday and I have averaged over 2,000 words a day of it. I finish tomorrow. The second part will be 50,000 instead of the estimated 40,000 words.

It is surprising that a fortnight ago at Brighton, I could have thought it possible to finish the second part there. I had only allowed 2,000 words for the most important series of scenes - love scenes - in that part. On the whole I think it is fair. Anyhow it is honest and conscientious. I wrote 3,200 words yesterday, and pretty near killed myself, and was accordingly very depressed at night. This morning I went a long walk and wrote 1,000 words in an hour this afternoon.

The reviews of "Helen with the High Hand" are exceedingly polite and kind, but they do not gloss over the slightness of the thing. For example William Morton Payne writing in The Dial (Chicago) opines that it is "capital fooling, humorously charming from start to finish, and we are glad to have it as a pendant to Mr. Bennett's gloomy large-scale depiction of the Five Towns."

Additionally for March 25th., see'The triumph of beer'

The news of the triumph of beer in the Peckham election this morning really did depress me. I understood, momentarily, the feelings of the men who give up politics in disgust; and I also understood the immense obstinate faith of those who fight for Liberalism all their lives. It is the insincerity and the deliberate lying of the other side that staggers me. I read in the Daily Mail this morning that when the news of the triumph of beer got into the music-halls last night there were scenes of wild enthusiasm, and perfect strangers shook hands with one another.