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ISSN 1039-3498 | no. 55 | February 2002


Fifty Years of Letters

Occasionally, the mail reaching the Manuscript Section of the Library can contain completely unexpected but welcome additions to our Collection. This was the case recently when an envelope containing correspondence between the author Christina Stead and her brother, David Darwin Stead, was forwarded to the Library by David's family, following his death.

Spanning some 50 years, the bulk of the approximately 50 letters were written by Christina Stead in the late 1960s and the 1970s. David was Christina's step-brother, one of six children from her father's second marriage to Ada Gibbins, and he was five years her junior. Christina's mother, Ellen Butters, had died when Christina was two and a half years old.

Having worked hard to save up her fare, Christina left Australia for Europe in 1928 and did not return here to live until 1974. It appears from these letters that over the years, she lost touch with her siblings back in Australia. In a letter from Christina to David in 1956, she thanks him for his letter bringing her up to date with what he and the others did for a living. Shortly after this, David and his wife Doris visited Christina in London, and it seems that this visit rekindled their relationship, as they appear to have corresponded on a more or less regular basis from then until Christina's death in 1983.

The letters are very general, covering mainly the day-to-day occurrences in her life, her travels and people she has seen, rather than dealing in any depth with her work as a writer. It is clear from the correspondence that following the death of Christina's husband, William Blake, in 1968, she began to rely more and more upon David for moral support and advice, particularly once she returned to Australia to live in 1974. In addition to the correspondence, there are several photographs and a small group of papers accumulated by David Stead, which relate to Christina Stead's career. Also included is a poem written by Christina in 1916 entitled 'Upon a Belgian Battlefield'.

The correspondence, papers and photographs complement existing holdings of Christina Stead papers in the Manuscript Collection, enabling us to document more fully the life of this notable Australian author.
—Karen Johnson

Christina Stead  

Upon a Belgian Battlefield

The still and silent dark surrounds the land.
The twinkling golden myriad stars above
Are pale. The silvery moon, whose eerie beams
Made quaint fantastic shadows on the ground,
Has disappeared; and now the dark grows less.
The first faint light breaks in the cold grey east;
And o'er the battlefield of yesternight,
Which ghostly shows in this subdued half-light,
There steals a clammy, white weird morning mist.
The wind blows chill across the sodden earth
And sings a requiem in the tall gaunt trees
Which stand like dark and ghostly sentinels
To guard the bodies of the honoured dead,
Who gave up life and hope, who gave up all
To help their country in her hour of need.
Slowly the fleeing, pearl-grey orient clouds
Become shell pink; the glowing roseate hue
Of Summer sunrise tinges all their edge.
Now Phoebus slowly rises o'er the rim,
Like Midas changing everything to gold,
Sending his shafts, that tenderly embrace,
And seem to pity the poor wounded earth,
Torn by the shot and shell which clever man
Has fashioned out of iron and cruel steel,
To kill his brothers. Ere this day is done,
Thousands of men, the bravest of the brave,
And flower of manhood, meet Eternity,
To satisfy the gross rapacious greed
Of those more high in state, yet not so high
As these in honour, worth and bravery.
The fiery golden sun smiles
The bright green leaves glint gladly in the light,
While near a murmuring stream flows rapidly,
No longer clear, but stained, alas! With blood
Of these my comrades and my patriot friends.
The sky is dull. The sun that in the morn
Smiled broadly down on us, does hide his face
From all this ghastly scene of death and pain.
And e'en the sky is now obscured with smoke
Of cannon, while the deaf'ning sound of war
Rends or seems to rend both heaven and earth.
The booming of great guns for many miles
Along the line is heard. In after years
When this now wasted land is flourishing,
And Fortune smiles upon a nation free,
These sad and troublous times will be forgot,
While men will live towards better nobler ends,
And use their genius in other ways
Than this, to benefit humanity

Christina Ellen Stead
17 September, 1916

Christina Stead
Christina Stead
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