A Last Diary

A Last Diary
By W. N. P. Barbellion

With A Preface by Arthur J. Cummings
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"We are in the power of no calamity while Death is in our own."
--Religio Medici.
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LONDON
CHATTO & WINDUS
1921

First published, November 25, 1920
Second impression, December 14, 1920
All rights reserved
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The Life and Character of Barbellion
THE opening entry in A Last Diary was made on March 21, 1918; the
closing sentence was written on June 3, 1919. In The Journal of a
Disappointed Man the record ended on October 21, 1917, with the one

word "Self-disgust." An important difference between the first diary
and that now published lies in the fact that the first embodies a
carefully selected series of extracts from twenty post- quarto volumes
of manuscript in which Barbellion had recorded his thoughts and his
observations from the age of thirteen without any clearly defined
intention, except towards the end of his life, of discovering them to any
but one or two of his intimate friends. He often hinted to me that some
parts of his diary would "make good reading" if they could be printed
in essay form, and I think he then had in mind chiefly those passages
which applied the inspiration of Enjoying Life, the volume of essays
that revealed him more distinctively in the character of "a naturalist and
a man of letters." Still, the diary was primarily written for himself. It
was his means of self-expression, the secret chamber of his soul into
which no other person, however deep in his love and confidence, might
penetrate. More than once I asked him to let me look at those parts
which he thought suitable for publication, but shyly he turned aside the
suggestion with the remark: "Some day, perhaps, but not now." All I
ever saw was a part of the first essay in Enjoying Life, and an account
of his wanderings "in a spirit of burning exultation" over the great
stretch of sandy "burrows" at the estuary of that beautiful Devonshire
river, the Taw, where in long days of solitude he first taught himself
with the zeal and patience of the born naturalist the ways of birds and
fish and insects, and learnt to love the sweet harmony of the sunlight
and the flowers; where, too, as a mere boy he first meditated upon the
mysteries of life and death.
The earlier Journal, then, was, generally speaking, spontaneous, not
calculated for effect, a part of himself. He wrote down instinctively and
by habit his inmost thoughts, his lightest impression of the doings of
the day, a careless jest that amused him, an irritating encounter with a
foolish or a stupid person, something newly seen in the structure of a
bird's wing, a sunset effect. It was only on rare occasions that he
deliberately experimented with forms of expression. But I cannot help
thinking that the diary contained in the present volume, though in one
sense equally a part of himself, has a somewhat different quality. It
appears to bear internal evidence of having been written with an eye to
the reader because of his settled intention that it should be published in

a book. He has drawn upon the memories of his youth for many of the
most interesting passages. He has smoothed the rough edges of his style
with the loving care of an author anticipating criticism, and anxious to
do his best. Whether the last diary will be found less attractive on that
account is not for me to say. The circumstances in which it was written
explain the difference, if, as I suppose, it is easy to detect. In the earlier
period covered by A Last Diary the original Journal was actually in the
press; in the later period it had been published and received with
general goodwill. Barbellion certainly did not expect to live to see the
Journal in print, and that is why he inserted at the end its single false
entry, "Barbellion died on December 31" -1917. A few of the later
reviewers, whose sense of propriety was offended by this "twisting of
the truth for the sake of an artistic finish," rebuked him for the trick
played upon his readers. But he refused to take the rebuke seriously,
"The fact is," he said with a whimsical smile, "no man dare remain
alive after writing such a book."
A further difference between the present book and its two predecessors
is that both the Journal and Enjoying Life were prepared by himself for
publication, though the latter appeared after his death, whereas A Last
Diary was still in manuscript when he died. He left carefully written
instructions as to the details of publication, and he was extremely
anxious that there should be no "bowdlerising" of