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'Katherine Mansfield Today' Blog
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What was KM thinking and writing 90 years ago today? The ‘KM blog’ posts daily extracts of her letters and notebooks written almost 90 years ago...
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10 April 1922
Brett and Jack's brother are coming for Easter, but only staying for a week. Of course you will have to be on the spot for Papa. Perhaps you'd rather wait until after his coming (it sounds as though he was a celestial person out of the prayer book.) Of course, in spite of my saying do come - you know don't you that I would understand perfectly if you didn't, if it was in the least inconvenient. Dont ever feel bound in any way as far as I am concerned. Jack says of course he will send you a copy of his book but he is afraid you won't like it. He doesn't think much of it himself. His next will be much better. And I hesitate to send you mine because you may think it ‘personal' - like old V. did. Thats so difficult to explain. You see the Daughters of the Late C. were a mixture of Miss Edith & Miss Emily, Ida, Sylvia Payne, Lizzie Fleg, and ‘Cyril' was based on Chummie. To write stories one has to go back into the past. And its as though one took a flower from all kinds of gardens to make a new bouquet. But this is a thing which no amount of talking can change. One either feels it, or doesn't feel it . . . About writing a novel - I am going to write a kind of serial novel for The Sphere this summer - to start in August. You [are] right, my dear, one is kept very busy. But one wouldn't have it otherwise.
[To Charlotte Beauchamp Perkins, 8 April 1922.]
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9 April 1922
Darling Marie,
I was so delighted to hear from you. Fancy your leaves not out. We are as green as can be in Paris - no - not really ‘out" but all little crumpled new born leaves - most lovely. And we had that fine day you spoke of. It was a joy after the fierce ones there have been lately.
I am so wondering if you and little J. are coming in May. Are you? We both hope so. I must say it seems as though my reaction is over and for the last three days I am marvellously better. I don't dare to say too much about it. But Ive been out, walking, bought a sweet-pretty-hat for a song, had my hair cut and altogether I feel absolutely a different human being. I shall be able to tell more in another week. But the doctors at the clinic were delighted yesterday and since I came to Paris I have gained 5 pounds! But if things go on at this rate, my darlings, we ought to have fun in May. The hat shop I found is a treasure - very cheap and very original. Tomorrow we are lunching with the Schiffs - South of France friends é and I shall cull addresses from Violet Schiff who always looks exquisite, in case you do come. You would really like this hotel immensely. Double room with private bath 25 francs a day - without food. Meals to be had on the premises - too much meat and not enough trimmings but we might dodge out for our meals in May. Its so warm then and the evenings are so exquisite in Paris. I want to lure you across. [To Charlotte Beauchamp Perkins, 8 April 1922.]
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8 April 1922
When you wrote Thursday with icicles it was warm, really hot here and sunny. I had a most extraordinary afternoon. Got ready to go to Cooks & lost my cheque book. Spent an hour with Jack turning the whole room into a haystack. No sign. Went off to Cooks to stop all cheques. I had to wait to explain to see my entire account, to go to the intelligence department where my name ‘Mansfield' was cried like a vegetable & finally escaping prison by a hair we went off to the Bon Marché to buy a very simple light hat. Have you been there? Its one of the wonders of the world. Having fought to the lift we got out on to an open gallery with about 5,000 hats on it, 10,000 dressing gowns, and so on. But the gallery looked over the entire ground floor & the whole of the ground floor was taken up with untrimmed ‘shapes' & literally hundreds & hundreds of women - nearly all in black - wandered from table to table turning & turning over these shapes. They were like some terrible insect swarm - not ants more like blowflies. Free balloons were given away that day & fat elderly women with little eyes & savage faces carried them. It was exactly like being in hell. The hats were loathesome. Jack as usual on such occasions would not speak to [me] and became furious. If I said ‘Do you like that?' he replied ‘No. Horribly vulgar? If I timidly stretched out a hand he hissed ‘Good God!' in my ear. We got out of the place at last. Then while waiting for a taxi a woman tried to commit suicide by flinging herself at his umbrella with which he was prodding the pavement. [To Ida Baker, 8 April 1922.]
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7 April 1922
Dear Ida,
You have missed my point. Where do you sleep? When do you go to bed? These two important questions you hedge away from. If you omit to put the time why the devil should that put my mind at rest. It doesn't in the least. I still hear midnight strike through the pages. You are a peculiarly maddening character to have to do with.
(l) Now I will answer your letter. I enclose the note you asked for in case Dr M. continues his annoyance. Would you like Jack to write to him direct, very briefly, merely asking him to ‘discontinue his intereference with our subtenants?' Reply to this. Jack can write a very cool letter, very on his dignity, if you'd like one.
(2) What about giving Wingley for always to the de Perrots. If they would take him would it not be a good plan? As regards Jack and me we shall not be settled anywhere for over a year. I hate to think of the cat being pulled about from pillar to post. He'd be much happier with kind friends - the dear. I'd rather not have him than have him after an interval of suffering. I think it would be in the long run kinder to destroy him than to let him be with strangers. Jack's Mother would be perfectly gentle with him, but Jack's Father might kick him. Or so I feel. Will you decide this? Dove that he is I feel I have said goodbye to him, and that it would be very cruel and sentimental to deprive him of a good home if the de Perrots would like him - [To Ida Baker, 8 April 1922.]
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6 April 1922
Dear Ida
It is no use writing to you when you are too tired to reply. And please do not write to me after 10.30 o'clock p.m. You know what I think about your incredible folly in sitting up after midnight. Its more; it really will ruin your mind and memory and understanding. But you only do it to attract attention to yourself Even to attract yourself to yourself. Nobody admires it.
I send back Mrs M's letter as I daresay you have not made a note of the address. No, I shall not write to her. Why should I? She has not written directly to me.
Yours ever
K.M. [To Ida Baker, 5 April 1922.]
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5 April 1922
Im interested in what you say of Wyndham L. [Lewis] Ive heard so very very much about him from Anne Rice and Violet Schiff .Yes I too admire his line tremendously. Its beautifully obedient to his wishes. But its queer I feel that as an artist in spite of his passions and his views and all that he lacks a real centre. Ill tell you what I mean. It sounds personal but one can't help that: we can only speak of what we have learnt. It seems to me that what one aims at is to work with ones mind and one's soul together. By soul I mean that ‘thing' that makes the mind really important. I always picture it like this. My mind is a very complicated, capable instrument. But the interior is dark. It can work in the dark & throw off all kinds of things. But behind that instrument like a very steady gentle light is the soul. And its only when the soul radiates the mind that what one does matters. . .What I aim at is that state of mind when I feel my soul and my mind are one. Its awfully terribly difficult to get at. Only solitude will do it for me - But I feel Wyndham Lewis would be inclined to call the soul tiddley ompom. It's a mystery, anyway. One aims at perfection - knows one will never achieve it and goes on aiming as though one knew the exact contrary.
[To Dorothy Brett, 4 April 1922.]
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4 April 1922
Dearest
I sent my last letter to Thurlow Road. Did the Hannays impound it - horrid thought! This I shall send to Pond Street and hope that the painters wont light their fires with it. Shall I in future always send your letters there? It's a very nice address. One sees it pond and all. But what I want to say first is.
Do come on the 18th. You will? You are coming? Im to expect you then? Don't put it off till May. I feel we shall be freer then for I dread to say who wont be in Paris in May. As it is the Schiffs have arrived. I haven't seen them though and am not going to for a week or so, though Im awfully fond of both of them. But we must be alone - that's flat. We must feel a bit free. Another reason. When I went to the clinique on Friday Manoukhin said that I should be on the turn in another week. Now he says it is from the 5th to the 10th one feels so ill and Ive had my 10th whack so I ought to be well on the turn by the 18th. I was rather in despair last Friday but suddenly just as I was getting on to the table Manoukhin began to talk about literature - about a story of Bunin's and one of Kuprin. This was such a joy that after that nothing mattered and I believed in everything. We began to rejoice over what was so fine in Bunin's work and - all was well. There is nothing on earth more powerful than love of work. [To Dorothy Brett, 4 April 1922.]
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3 April 1922
Dear Mr Pinker,
I have received your letter but the forms were not enclosed. As soon as I receive them they shall be signed and returned to you. With regard to my last letter I confess that thinking it over I feel I might do better with a change of publisher. This book on the strength of its reviews (it has been most extensively reviewed) ought to have sold more if it had been more advertised. It had a chance of going really well, I fancy, but it seems to me Constable did not make the use they might have of their opportunity. I have received numerous letters, too, from the kind of people who comprise the reading public which prove it had a chance of popularity. (I haven't any desire to be fashionable and exclusive or to write for the intelligenzia only.)
But these are of course the opinions of a ‘layman'. The real point is I shall have to make as much money as I can on my next book - my path is so dotted with doctors.
Yours sincerely
Katherine Mansfield [To J. B. Pinker, 2 April 1922.]
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2 April 1922
My dear Ida
Your full house may be amusing but where are you sleeping? I hope the de Perrot girls do not stay. Five is too many for comfort. I cannot see where they all are. Besides feeding five and so on must be a bore in that little house. Dont forget stuffed nouilles and plats like that, they go farthest and are easy to make.
The weather is still devilish here. Friday was fine but now it pours again. However one cant get over the fact that its April. Once it is fine it will be very very fine. And all early spring plants and so on are extremely hardy. It is not they who come to harm. Bitterest cold, east wind, and storm won't hurt violets or hawthorn buds or daffodils or primroses. They seem to have some special resisting power in these months. Even half open leaves can stand snow. Or so Beach Thomas tells me - and he's a very fine honest naturalist, Tomlinson's great friend. Its a relief to know this.
If you want to know how I am my grande reaction will go on for another week. Then Manoukhin says peu et peu I shall begin to get better.
My book is in a 3rd large edition which is more important, & the reviews still roll in - still the same - and letters. Do you remember Mrs Belloc Lowndes? Wrote me at Baugy? Shes coming over in May for "ten days talk". So are Chaddie & Jeanne, so is Brett, Anne, Drey, Richard. The Schiffs are here. But I wrote saying I couldn't see them. I shan't see the others either if I can escape in time. I have a horror of people at present. As it is one never has enough time to oneself. [To Ida Baker, 2 April 1922.]
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1 April 1922
Violet dearest
You may imagine how much I dislike proving to you and Sydney how insupportable a creature I am. But I am now in bed with a violent cold. I caught it somehow on Wednesday in these corridors and there it is in all its vileness. This means of course that again I shant be able to see you. I am tired of being governed by the Furies; I think its time they left me alone a little. But the moment I am better may I telephone you and come and see you?
I was so distressed that Sydney stayed such a short time on Wednesday. But Joyce was rather. . . difficile. I had no idea until then of his view of Ulysses - no idea how closely it was modelled on the Greek story, how absolutely necessary it was to know the one through and through to be able to discuss the other. Ive read the Odyssey and am more or less familiar with it but Murry and Joyce simply sailed away out of my depth - I felt almost stupified. Its absolutely impossible that other people should understand Ulysses as Joyce understands it. Its almost revolting to hear him discuss its difficulties. It contains code words that must be picked up in each paragraph and so on. The Question and Answer part can be read astronomically or from the geological standpoint or • oh, I don't know! And in the midst of this he told us that his latest admirer was Jack Dempsey.
No, I really believe there is no reason Civilisation should go. There is still a chance of saving it in spite of everything and Im against the destroyers . . . [To Violet Schiff, c. 1 April 1922.]
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