The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I
Tuesday — February 26, 1918
February 26, 1918
When I read about B. R. being carried shoulder high, I felt quite sick—for such a silly, an incredibly stupid thing. How humiliated he ought to feel! It would be for me like if I was a burglar and was caught after having burgled the potato knife. I expect if he goes to prison he'll get immensely fat in there: in fact, he's so blown already that I shudder….
Last night after a full moon and a sea like velvet a huge thunderstorm burst over the town. Rain, bright lightning, loud wind. I was sitting up in bed writing, for thank God! I've managed to stave off the werewolf a bit, and the storm was wonderful. I had forgotten what it sounded like….
Trust L. M. for knocking then—a low ominous knock. I think she hoped I had been struck by lightning. (I always feel her dream is to bury me here and bring back a few bulbs from Katie's grave to plant in a window-box for you.) She asked if she might lie on the floor (you know these tile floors) till it was over, as it was so very agitating.
page 136We must have plenty of gillyflowers in our garden. They smell so sweet.
How shall we spend the day?
With what delights
Sweeten the nights?
When from this tumult we are got secure,
Where mirth with all her freedom goes
Yet shall no finger lose,
Where every word is thought and every thought is pure;
There from the tree
We'll cherries pluck, and pick the strawberry….
Don't you like that?
I shan't go out to-day because it rains. I'll read Le P'tit this afternoon and Nausicaa and write you about them, and I'll make no End of an effort to finish this story called Bliss. I hope you'll like it. It's different again.
I was thinking last night that I must not let L. M. obsess me. After all, she is a trial, but I must get over her. Dosty would have. She adds to the struggle, yes, but the struggle is always there—I mean if one don't feel very strong and so on. But they have nearly all had to fight against just this. So must I and so will I. I hope I've not been a coward in my last letter or two. At any rate, my loins are girded up no end to-day, and I spent the morning in bed full steam ahead.
Queer the effect people have on one. Juliette is a positive help to writing. She is so independent and so full in herself—I want to say fulfilled, but it's a dangerous word. I love to feel she is near and to meet her. She rests me positively. She'll make some man tremendously happy one day. Yes, she's really important to me. As to all the other swine with which the hotel is full—well, they are swine.
page 137Unhappy! Shall we never more
That sweet militia restore
When gardens only had their towers
And all the garrisons were flowers;
When roses only arms might bear
And men did rosy garlands wear?
I keep (as you see) wanting to quote poetry to-day. When I get back I shall be like a sort of little private automatic machine in the home: you wind me up and a poem will come, I've learned so many here while I lie awake….
I shall make Rib a wedding-dress of blue jersey, sailor-knot, full blue trousers and p'raps a very tiny whistle on a cord—if I can find one….