Tomorrow Editions

W. N. P. Barbellion

W. N. P. Barbellion’s diary, 1917

January

  1. 1 January 1917

    The New Year came in like a thief in the night--noiselessly; no bells, no syrens, no songs by order of the Government. Nothing could have been more appropriate than…

  2. 20 January 1917

    I am over 6 feet high and as thin as a skeleton; every bone in my body, even the neck vertebrae, creak at odd intervals when I move. So that I am not only a…

  3. 21 January 1917

    Death What a delightful thing the state of Death would be if the dead passed their time haunting the places they loved in life and living over again the dear…

  4. 26 January 1917

    Out of doors to-day it's like the roaring forties! Every tree I passed in the lane was a great wind instrument, bellowing out a passionate song, and the sky was…

  5. 27 January 1917

    Still freezing and blowing. Coming back from the village, tho' I was tired and hobbling badly, decided to walk up the lane even if it meant crawling home on hands…

  6. 28 January 1917

    Still blowing and bitterly cold. Along the path fields in the Park I stopped to look at a thick clump of Firs standing aloof on some high ground and guarded by an…

  7. 29 January 1917

    Last night, I pulled aside the window curtain of our front door and peeped out. Just below the densely black projecting gable of the house I saw the crescent moon…

  8. 31 January 1917

    Showers of snow at intervals, the little flakes rocking about lazily or spiralling down, while the few that eventually reached the ground would in a moment or so be…

February

  1. 1 February 1917

    Looking back, I must say I like the splendid gusto with which I lived thro' yesterday: that mettlesome fashion in which I took the lane, and at the top, how I swung…

  2. 2 February 1917

    Crowd Fever After four months' sick leave, returned to work and London. An illness like mine rejuvenates one--for the time being! A pony and jingle from the old…

  3. 3 February 1917

    This morning on arriving at S. Kensington, went straight to a Chemist's shop, but finding someone inside, I drew back, and went on to another. "Have you any morphia…

  4. 6 February 1917

    Am busy re-writing, editing and bowdlerising my journals for publication against the time when I shall have gone the way of all flesh. No one else would prepare it…

  5. 7 February 1917

    Chinese Lanterns The other morning as I dressed, I could see the sun like a large yellow moon rising on a world, stiff, stark, its contours merely indicated beneath…

  6. 28 February 1917

    The Strangeness of my Life Consider the War: and the current adventures of millions of men on land, sea and air; and the incessant labours of millions of men in…

March

  1. 1 March 1917

    It is curious for me to look at my tubes and microscope and realise that I shall never require them again for serious use. Life is a dreadful burden to me at the…

  2. 2 March 1917

    I ask myself: what are my views on death, the next world, God? I look into my mind and discover I am too much of a mannikin to have any. As for death, I am a little…

  3. 5 March 1917

    At home ill again. Yesterday was a day of utter dreariness. All my nerves were frozen, my heart congealed. I had no love for anyone ... no emotion of any sort. It…

  4. 6 March 1917

    An affectionate letter from H---- that warmed the cockles of my heart--poor frozen molluscs. A---- has written only once since August.

  5. 7 March 1917

    I am, I suppose, a whey-faced, lily-livered creature ... yet even an infantry subaltern has a chance.... My dear friend ---- has died and a Memorial Exhibition of…

  6. 8 March 1917

    Death Have been reading Sir Oliver Lodge's Raymond. I do not deny that I am curious about the next world, or about the condition of death. I am and always have…

  7. 10 March 1917

    Have had a relapse. My hand I fear is going. Food prices are leaping up. Woe to the unfit and the old and the poor in these coming days! We shall soon have nothing…

  8. 11 March 1917

    The Graph of Temperament In this Journal, my pen is a delicate needle point, tracing out a graph of temperament so as to show its daily fluctuations: grave and gay,…

  9. 12 March 1917

    Archæopteryx and Mudflats Yesterday I collected two distinct and several twinges and hereby save them up. They were more than that--they were pangs, and pangs that…

  10. 15 March 1917

    How revolting it is to see some barren old woman love-sick over a baby, bestowing voluptuous kisses on its nose, eyes, hands, feet, utterly intoxicated and…

May

  1. 5 May 1917

    The nurse has been here now for over five weeks. One day has been pretty much the same as another. I get out of bed usually about tea-time and sit by the window and…

  2. 8 May 1917

    This and another volume of my Journal are temporarily lodged in a drawer in my bedroom. It appears to me that as I become more static and moribund, they become more…

June

  1. 1 June 1917

    We discuss post mortem affairs quite genially and without restraint. It is the contempt bred of familiarity I suppose. E---- says widows' weeds have been so…

  2. 15 June 1917

    I sit all day in my chair, moving 8 feet to my bed at night, and 8 feet from it to my chair in the morning--and wait. The assignation is certain. "Life is a…

July

  1. 5 July 1917

    It is odd that at this time of the breaking of nations, Destiny, with her hands so full, should spare the time to pursue a non-combatant atom like me down such a…

  2. 7 July 1917

    My hand gets a little better. But it's a cat and mouse game, and so humiliating to be the mouse. ... Parental affection comes to me only in spasms, and if they…

  3. 23 July 1917

    Reading Pascal again. If Shelley was "gold dusty from tumbling among the stars," Pascal was bruised and shaken. The one was delighted, and the other frightened. I…

  4. 25 July 1917

    I don't believe in the twin-soul theory of marriage. There are plenty of men any one of whom she might have married and lived with happily, and simpler men than I…

  5. 26 July 1917

    As long as I can hold a pen, I shall, I suppose, go on trickling ink into this diary! I am amusing myself by reading the Harmsworth Encyclopædia in 15 volumes,…

August

  1. 1 August 1917

    A Jeremiad When I resigned my appointment last month, no one knows what I had to give up. But I know. Tho' if I say what I know no one is compelled to believe me…

  2. 6 August 1917

    E---- and I were very modern in our courtship. Our candour was mutual and complete--parents and relatives would be shocked and staggered if they knew.... You see I…

  3. 7 August 1917

    My Gastrocnemius I become dreadfully emaciated. This morning, before getting off the bed I lifted my leg and gazed wistfully along all its length. My flabby…

  4. 17 August 1917

    My beloved wife comes home this evening after a short, much needed holiday.

  5. 27 August 1917

    My gratuity has turned out to be unexpectedly small. I hoped at least for one year's salary. And the horrible thing is I might live for several years longer! No one…

  6. 31 August 1917

    My darling sweetheart, you ask me why I love you. I do not know. All I know is that I do love you, and beyond measure. Why do you love me--surely a more inscrutable…

September

  1. 1 September 1917

    Your love, darling, impregnates my heart, touches it into calm, strongly beating life so that when I am with you, I forget I am a dying man. It is too difficult to…

  2. 2 September 1917

    But am I dying? I have no presentiments--no conviction--like the people you read of in books. Am I, after all, in love? "I dote yet doubt; suspect yet strongly…

  3. 3 September 1917

    My bedroom is on the ground floor as I cannot mount the stairs. But the other day when they were all out, I determined to clamber upstairs if possible, and search…

  4. 4 September 1917

    I am getting ill again, and can scarcely hold the pen. So good-bye Journal--only for a time perhaps. Have read this blessed old Journal out to E----. It required…

  5. 5 September 1917

    Leap-frog Some girls up the road spent a very wet Sunday morning playing leap-frog in their pyjamas around the tennis lawn. It makes me envious. To think I never…

  6. 7 September 1917

    My 28th birthday. Dear old R---- (the man I love above all others) has been in a military hospital for months. It is a great hardship to have our intercourse almost…

  7. 29 September 1917

    I could never have believed so great misery compatible with sanity. Yet I am quite sane. How long I or any man can remain sane in this condition God knows.... It is…

  8. 30 September 1917

    Last night, E---- sitting on the bed by me, burst into tears. It was my fault. "I can stand a good deal but there must come a breaking point." Poor, poor girl, my…

October

  1. 1 October 1917

    The immediate future horrifies me.

  2. 2 October 1917

    Poushkin (as we have named the cat) is coiled up on my bed, purring and quite happy. It does me good to see him. But consider: A paralytic, a screaming infant, two…

  3. 3 October 1917

    I am grateful to-day for some happy hours plucked triumphantly from under the very nose of Fate, and spent in the warm sun in the garden. They carried me out at 12,…

  4. 6 October 1917

    In fits of maudlin self-compassion I try to visualise Belgium, Armenia, Serbia, etc., and usually cure myself thereby.

  5. 12 October 1917

    It is winter--no autumn this year. Of an evening we sit by the fire and enjoy the beautiful sweet-smelling wood-smoke, and the open hearth with its big iron bar…

  6. 21 October 1917

    Self-disgust.