Early Letters from Sister Mary Agnes (Pamela Chalkley)

In 1972, I became acquainted with the Poor Clare nun Sister Mary Agnes through occasionally assisting Norman Hidden, publisher of Workshop Press which specialized in poetry.  Pam's book, Daffodils in Ice, was a hit.  Our correspondence went on for years and ceased only long after she had left the convent.  At the time of these letters, I had also published my first chapbook, Wolfprints, and was attempting to live by writing poetry with the help of savings from time spent working as a programmer in New York at Columbia University and a small British Arts Council bursary.  In London I shared a flat with others but in Northumberland I had the lease on a remote farmhouse, Roughside, on the moors near Kielder Forest.

see also: White Harvest

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addressed to:

Dick Russell, Esq.,

9B Hyde Park Mansions

Cabbell Street,

N.W.1

postmarked 4 Oct 1972, Lynton and Lynmouth, Devon

written on Monastery of Poor Clares embossed stationery.

Dear Dick

Thank you very much for “Kanti”.  I’m thrilled with – certainly don’t want it re-written!  (I got an awful thought that you might think that was why I’d returned “Caves” – but it certainly wasn’t & and I found by typing it I got to know it well)

Such a relief to hear you so obviously happy & getting a kick out of your new life.  I’m so glad.  I never really thought you’d ever enjoy the work - & even discover you’d talents in that direction too.   The first part of “Kanti” suited the situation, I thought – almost as though you’d just written it – (rather proves your theory is valid.)  I’m most interested in your suggestion & theory about making a sequence of the short poems – I shall certainly try, as you say – even the shorter ones can, with a little more time & work, be developed & there is bound to be a certain amount of continuity as they are all reactions of a single individual.   Thank you very much for the idea.   I suppose the fact that I rarely have much longer than ½ hr. at a time to work at them is my most serious disadvantage – anyhow you can’t have it all ways.  Sometimes I make up in intensity what (you ERASED) I lack in time.  I’m rather intrigued about your remark that “a poet revisits his own ideas”.  I tried to analyze myself about this – perhaps it differs with people – but I think I rather tend to be looking for something new & leave the past – as though I were always changing – in fact I sometimes feel I am & if I remember myself as I was when young.  I I’ve a rather longer span to re-visit.  Thank you!  born in 1928 – makes me 44!  I can hardly believe I’m the same person.  So much has happened in between.  All the same perhaps unconsciously I may go back – actually, if not overdone, I think it is good to - & has a deepening effect.  – Yes I very much like your whole idea - & think my work will gain if I attempt it – its given me quite a new impetus.

By the way – yes do drop one of my names if you like.  (both if you like just say sister) But you had better put Agnes on the envelope as we all have the same name “Mary” – the wrong person might get the letter  - I just write S.M.A. for speed – put that if it’s easier.  The TV programme is going to take place after the appointment of the new poet laureate.  (They must think its going to be me.)  The BBC gave my mother a private viewing at the studios & also made a film to fit our projector (they’re pleased with it)  I never thought they’d take such a personal interest.  They seem to think November will be when the Poet Laureate is named. 

Now I return to your “revisiting of ideas” & on 2^nd thoughts I suppose I do this a lot really – perhaps not when I’m actually writing but during our long hours of meditation every day.  I’ve a horror of being chained to anything probably a psychologist could explain.  Your whole life will be spent reading this, if I go on much longer.

By the way – have you travelled quite a lot – or just read a lot?  (I hope you don’t mind my asking).  Your poems sound as though you’ve travelled but or may be what you’ve gleaned while translating.  You remind me a bit of some of the Americans I’ve known.  I liked their informality & frankness.

I love your descriptions of skies & landscapes, in fact the whole vividness of your imagination, so full of surprises & almost contradictions.  Thanks again for Kanti.   Sincerely   SMA -

addressed to:

Dick Russell, Esq.,

9B Hyde Park Mansions

Cabbell Street,

N.W.1

postmarked 24 Nov 1972, Lynton and Lynmouth, Devon

written on one page back and front

                                                                        Monastery of Poor Clares

                                                                        Lynton

                                                                        North Devon

Dear Dick

I wonder how you’re getting on – and what part of the globe you are living in at present?  I’ve addressed this to London & hope it will eventually reach you.  I’ve kept wandering about you & do hope things are going well.

After the TV I got lots of letters & Daffodils was sold out & gone into a 2^nd. Edition due out in 3 weeks – at 40p – so I’m enjoying my little bit of sunshine!

Did you know Joyce got her M.A.? & Norman’s anthology Say It Aloud (Hutchinson) is now sale.  They went to a meal at my sisters so I spoke to them on the  phone.

It’s very cold here – but probably colder still where you are – if you’re in the North.

Michael Johnson’s poems were read on 10^th Nov. at the Poetry Society.

How’s your writing going?  Are you getting time to work at it & experiment as you felt the need.  I often look at my 2 favorites in Wolfprints & your other poems too.

I purposely didn’t write earlier.  I didn’t want you to feel obliged – please never feel that & be assured I shan’t forget you even if you never write again - & I wanted to tell you this.

All the best 

Yours

Sr. Mary Agne

addressed to:

Dick Russell, Esq.,

9B Hyde Park Mansions

Cabbell Street, London

postmarked 7 Dec 1972, Lynton and Lynmouth

Monastery of Poor Clares

Lynton, N. Devon

 she wrote (I never know the date)

Pool old Dick

I'm so sorry about the 'flu.  I wish i could come and make your bed or something useful.  But as I can't, perhaps an extra letter might help.

I did enjoy yours - telling me so much about yourself - past & present, which I loved hearing.  It's good news you're getting a little more affluent - what better use for money - than to hear more music.  I love music.  We have a record player & are allowed to use it on Sunday afternoons for an hour.  I think Beethoven's my very favorite but I like a variety.  I wish I could play some instrument (preferably a cello) but as I say I can't.  I stick to trying to write music in poetry (I'm delighted you like the latest.)

I have a window in my cell - the view is magnificent, hills and trees & wonderful sunsets.   There's a cypress tree right outside the window (not that I'd expect it to be inside) I love watching it.  You can learn so much from watching things & listening to them.

I could paint - any medium - if I wanted - but I've discovered that there's not enough time to concentrate on more than one art, so regretfully I leave the painting - poetry is more practical here - as you can settle down without a lot of palaver and get straight on.

I think people who educate themselves are greatly to be admired, it's so much harder.  You should never be ashamed of being poor.  People whose opinion of you would be altered because of your suit aren't worth bothering about.  People must accept us as we are.  (Perhaps someone might buy you another with a bit of luck!).  I think on the whole people are a bit less snobbish than they used to be.  We weren't specially well off, my parents were both doctors but were divorced when we were children (2 sisters and myself) so my mother brought us up - so we weren't nearly as "comfortable: financially - but we did have a lot of fun together.  I went (after school) to an an Art School for a year, then the Central School of Speech & Drama (it was at the Albert Hall & we used to hear concert rehearsals & Yehudi Menuhin practising) - there I met a Parisian girl who invited me to spend summer with them & persuaded me to go to the Sorbonne - so I went there  (one year) intending to return and study Russia - but I came here instead.  But like you - I loved the freedom.

You asked about the "6th Dimension".  It's the only way I can describe a rather wonderful freedom we experience in this life - free even from yourself & you find a whole new world & set of values.  That's why I feel (though it;s something realer than just feeling) happy.  When I was about 17 i had an awful nervous depression it last at least 2 years.  It was so frightening I daren't try to relive it - somehow I learnt so much from it that I'm almost glad now - & know I appreciate happiness far more as a result - also it helped me to understand suffering in other people - now - I didn't really mean to tell you all this.  I hope you don't mind.

When I lived in France I knew it as well as English & used to think in French.  I still read it easily - but my accent's so bad I wouldn't speak even if I got the chance!  Would you be able to read enough to understand French poetry - (if I'm allowed!) - & were to send you an Anthology?

I get easily influenced too, so read very widely then there's not too much of another person evident!

I really must stop.

Do you you're better again - also that you have friends you can talk with & be yourself with.  I'm writing in the semi-dark - so it's even worse than usual!

Sr.. Mary Agnes

addressed to:

Dick Russell, Esq.,

9B Hyde Park Mansions

Cabbell Street, London

postmarked 14 Dec 1972, Lynton and Lynmouth

Monastery of Poor Clares

Lynton

N. Devon

written on 5 half sheets of paper front and back – actually two different letters posted at the same time.

Dear Dick

Everyone seems to send Christmas greetings early.  So here are mine!

Thank you for your very interesting letter.  Yes, I agree about Mail – I love this form of contact too & always find it much easier to express myself on paper than in person, it helps to get my own thoughts clear too.  How interesting about Paul Celan’s poems.  I’m so glad you liked my last – I really was rather please with it.  I enclose another long one (your theory worked on again – I mean joining several shorts).  Yes, I write very many – I can’t always judge my poetic temperature, so to speak – I can’t always tell till quite a lot later whether I think a poem has any value – except occasionally when it strikes me immediately as being something complete.

About the Anthology – quite OK – I’d have sent you it but if you don’t know any French there’s no point!  Just thought you might enjoy reading them.  Translating is quite helpful – but  I always feel impatient to get on with my own work!

I do want to publish another collection sometime – just biding my time for a bit & exulting in a little present success hard come by and rare.  I sent some to Gollanz a month ago – nothing’s happened yet & anyhow I just don’t expect it too.

We do have to choose our records in turns!  Fortunately only about 4 of us turn up regularly & we have rather the same taste – anyhow most of the records are nice – if its something I can’t bear I go away & get on with poems.  We see newspapers have a transistor – but this is mainly for the time signal – occasionally we listen, by request for something specially interesting.  Its only recently we’ve been allowed to write letters as freely as we do now.  When I first came it was only 4 times a year for the family & if friends wrote you could only answer at Christmas!

I was so interested about Joanna going to the Central.  Is she an actress now?  Its about as hard to get on in that career  as poetry.   was in the same group as Claire Bloom, but she’s the only one who’s had any success.

I’m so glad to hear about Naomi.  Perhaps she’ll go to Inverness (excuse change of paper) for Christmas & you’d get a lovely holiday up there.   Is she intending to teach after?  Perhaps she’s not decided yet.  Now I’ll have to start praying she gets impressed by you (I should have thought she’d find a poet rather romantic -) & that she develops a taste for writing long letters.

I wonder if you’re better – when you said “someone’s going to the post”.  In wondered if you might still be in bed –

On big feast like Christmas we’re allowed to talk freely all day (usually we only do this at recreation time) even during meals.  It’s quite a relief, somehow you feel more human after.  It’s very strange to hear people talking & laughing all over the house.

What a pity you had to dispose of all your books.

Must stop

love

Sr. Mary Agnes

I hope your scattered friends all write to you often

Monastery of Poor Clares

Lynton

N. Devon

Dear Dick

You’ll wonder what the feminine articles are in aid of!  As I’ve nothing at all suitable for you at Xmas, I wondered if these would be any good – to send Naomi?  & perhaps get a letter of thanks in consequence!  Anyhow here they are & I’m sure you’ll fine someone to give them to even if its only the char (who’d probably be touched to get something).   I hadn’t thought of it last time & had just resigned myself to having nothing to offer.

Will you have friends with you at Christmas?  I hope so.  I’d hate to think of you being alone.  Anyhow I’ll be thinking of you a lot if that’s any consolation!!  All the best

S. M. A.

Do you like Sylvia Plath’s poems?  We’ve quite a good library – mostly religious but some good Art books & I get poetry send for gifts -  we belong to the public library & another too & can choose what we like, freely)

PS – Verlaine used to live in the hotel where I lodged some of the time in Paris – I don’t think it had been cleaned since – mice used to run over my pillow at night even if I kept the light on – but it was cheap & we were only allowed £10 out of the country in those days.  Of course we had to live on the black market – I enjoyed being free like that  -----  I love V’s poems & Rimbaud’s too---do you?

S.M.A

p4 of your poem is v. rich & colourful.  I’m sure if your tried you’d be a good painter.  It’s v. relaxing & engrossing & rests the mind if you’ve worked too hard at poems a lot.   We’re both colour conscious, aren’t we.

addressed to:

Dick Russell, Esq.,

9B Hyde Park Mansions

Cabbell Street

London, N.W.1

postmarked 2 Jan 1973, Lynton and Lynmouth, Devon

written on two half sheet of plain paper both sides

Monastery of Poor Clares

Lynton

N. Devon

2 – 1 - 73

Dear Dick

It was so lovely to get your letter on New Year’s day -  I was helping with preparations for a party we were having in the evening, but stopped to read your letter.   No need to apologize for not writing – I didn’t really expect you to & anyhow always hope you’ll only do so – or know you can – if you want to or need to – I mean never worry that I’ll be hurt if you don’t – I shan’t, though might feel a bit worried about what had happened to you if the wait was too long – then I’d write & enquire.

I felt worried to hear of your “mental dullness” – then thought it is probably just the after-effects of flu, which can go on quite a long time.  I hope so.  I hope too ’73 will have something definite in store for you.   There’s a limit to the amount of waiting we can endure, if it goes on too long we get an inferiority complex.

I’ve not much news either.  I got a lovely record for Christmas (Mozart Quintet for Piano & Wind Instruments & Beethoven’s ( quintet for piano & wind instruments) & made the most of the feast days – to get it played at least 3 times everyone was so busy talking, the record player was free.  You’d love it – (the record, I mean).

Thank you for all you said about my poems!

Everyone here has a cold (not me, I hardly ever get them & as a result get landed with all the work!).

Sometimes I find I get a whole morning free for writing I’m not as successful as if I only get a few minutes.  Do you ever find this!  Not that I often get a whole morning – just festal seasons like Christmas.

It’s lovely and mild here, I can hear a bird singing & the tips of bulbs are beginning to appear.

Sorry this is so uninteresting anyhow it’ll be something to read on your way to work!  The nuns often ask how you are

Love

Sr. M Agnes

addressed to:

D Russell, Esq.,

Roughside

Tarset

Hexham

Northumberland

postmarked 17 Jan 1973, Lynton and Lynmouth, Devon

written on a half sheet of plain paper both sides

Monastery of Poor Clares

Lynton

N. Devon

Dear Dick

I was so pleased to hear from you – our letters crossed.  I’m sending an extra one, as you’re off work.  I love the poem to Jo.  Thank you.

I do hope you’ll go to France.  It’d be such a lovely break.  Yes.  I feel it might be your home country too.  Somehow the people take art more seriously there.  The whole atmosphere would suit you – at least, unless its changed a lot – as it may well have done. 

I’m glad you spoke to Norman.  Joyce is back at college again.  I may start to learn enamelling.  I’d love to.

Just off to cook supper – tomato flan (I hope)

Love

Sr. M Agnes

P.S. I’m going on another TV programme!  West Region.

                                   Lesbia whispered

                                              to Catullus

                         I

       you must learn to enjoy

       my hands caressing you

            your skin rippling

         my nails small knives

         dissecting you

flame frost both creating and killing

           in my fingertips 

             let you shudder

                      there

                quiver there

                 tremble

                          

       moan while I’m loving you

         while my hands undo

      all the knots of your body

           & your bones melt

            & you yield to me

            come to me now

                 then my love

          come into the cosmos

              œther of stars’ gap

                  fills my lungs

          my heels move galaxies

my thighs are pathways to the universe

                  my moment

                time caught

                    time spent

        

                  time flows

                      away me

                         away

                        me

                                      he was as intimate with her

    as crab lice during copulation

            she who stole fish

         who shrewdly calculated

         how to become bankrupt

               with credit cards

      went off to Paris to spend money

        gave expensive gifts to friends

          even left him with a Nikon

     he sold for a fraction of its worth

               careless of money

          now memories flicker in

                  consciousness

            where tendrils of light

        flash in forests of neurons
                        long

       carbon chain molecules hunt

      through his subterranean brain

          working to remove stains

     from a carpet never finding  those

  remnants   filaments of fiber encoded

                 generations ago

         all that Lesbia once was

         mythology is like a stain

         no chemicals can remove

          its archetypes embedded

           seashells in a fishnet

          impossible to untangle

            intrinsic to its design

         she will always be there

                waiting for him

                    at the shore

                                         © Dick Russell, 2015