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Correspondence from John Middleton Murry to Katherine Mansfield
55, Holywell, Oxford.
January 27 1912
Dear Miss Katharine [sic] Mansfield,
I don't know very much about the man Neuberg [Victor B. Neuburg]—but what I do I'll try to tell you. He is or rather was one of Aleister Crowley's push in the advanced spiritualist—obscene yet divine—stunt; and so far as I know he was Crowley's lover. Crowley's part being always pathic. He looks it. Then for some reason they quarrelled—over some money matter, and at present Neuburg is, I am told, holding over Crowley's head some books that he had privately published, and which are for England the ne plus ultra of dirt. I've never seen them; but they must be amusing. One is called The Daisy Chain the other Snowdrops from a Curate's Garden. I believe he looks a very bedraggled weed but I never saw him, since when I knew Crowley in Paris he had some other fellow, Kennedy [Leon Engers Kennedy].
I'm sorry I can't tell you more. Today is a good day in this bloodiest of bloody places—cold and fine; intellectually I feel just fit for this obvious meteorology. Next series of Rhythm, I want a number of Criticisms, preferably appreciation with a sting in it, of a half-dozen of the 'big' moderns in England. Each will go in two monthly numbers—about 4000 words in all. Will you do one of them. The half dozen I suggest are Wells, Shaw, Bennett [Arnold Bennett], Galworthy, Masefield, Frank Harris. It's rather early on to worry; but I'm trying to get out a prospectus of the new volume beforehand—and very much want to fix this up.
Sorry to talk mere shop, but if you knew the ghastly life I lead here one half the day sweating over some cursed Aristotle, the rest dodging my creditors, and answering my letters, you would see it's difficult to be other than dull. Your idea about the sailor man was good—I don't believe they taste nice though.
Yours,
J.M.M.
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