The Polish Connection 30

 January 1918

Punch magazine has come up with a good cartoon by Bernard Partridge. It shows St. Joan of Arc, holding a banner which reads “Women’s Franchise” and the caption says, At Last.

The Ministry of Food has decided to introduce rationing. Sugar is the first to be rationed and this they say will later followed by butchers’ meat. They tell us that the idea of rationing food is to guarantee supplies, not to reduce consumption. Potatoes are often in short-supply now and sugar is difficult to get. There is a certain amount of panic buying, and I must admit that I have been buying more than we need and storing goods in case of emergency. Those of us who had not been raising their own vegetables, have now started doing so. We were all out in the back yard digging up the lawn and planting potatoes. I don’t know if they will do well, we shall have to wait and see. Beth thinks it is all a rather fun new game.

The American President, Woodrow Wilson, spoke in Congress of his vision for the post war world. He has devised a 14 point program that, if implemented, would help Europe to recover from the war and ensure that peace was lasting. I have made notes of it as it will be interesting to see how many of the points come true in the end.

I. Open covenants of peace, openly arrived at, after which there shall be no private international understandings of any kind but diplomacy shall proceed always frankly and in the public view.

II. Absolute freedom of navigation upon the seas, outside territorial waters, alike in peace and in war, except as the seas may be closed in whole or in part by international action for the enforcement of international covenants.

III. The removal, so far as possible, of all economic barriers and the establishment of an equality of trade conditions among all the nations consenting to the peace and associating themselves for its maintenance.

IV. Adequate guarantees given and taken that national armaments will be reduced to the lowest point consistent with domestic safety.

V. A free, open-minded, and absolutely impartial adjustment of all colonial claims, based upon a strict observance of the principle that in determining all such questions of sovereignty the interests of the populations concerned must have equal weight with the equitable claims of the government whose title is to be determined.

VI. The evacuation of all Russian territory and such a settlement of all questions affecting Russia as will secure the best and freest cooperation of the other nations of the world in obtaining for her an unhampered and unembarrassed opportunity for the independent determination of her own political development and national policy and assure her of a sincere welcome into the society of free nations under institutions of her own choosing; and, more than a welcome, assistance also of every kind that she may need and may herself desire. The treatment accorded Russia by her sister nations in the months to come will be the acid test of their good will, of their comprehension of her needs as distinguished from their own interests, and of their intelligent and unselfish sympathy.

VII. Belgium, the whole world will agree, must be evacuated and restored, without any attempt to limit the sovereignty which she enjoys in common with all other free nations. No other single act will serve as this will serve to restore confidence among the nations in the laws which they have themselves set and determined for the government of their relations with one another. Without this healing act the whole structure and validity of international law is forever impaired.

VIII. All French territory should be freed and the invaded portions restored, and the wrong done to France by Prussia in 1871 in the matter of Alsace-Lorraine, which has unsettled the peace of the world for nearly fifty years, should be righted, in order that peace may once more be made secure in the interest of all.

IX. A readjustment of the frontiers of Italy should be effected along clearly recognizable lines of nationality.

X. The peoples of Austria-Hungary, whose place among the nations we wish to see safeguarded and assured, should be accorded the freest opportunity to autonomous development.

XI. Romania, Serbia, and Montenegro should be evacuated; occupied territories restored; Serbia accorded free and secure access to the sea; and the relations of the several Balkan states to one another determined by friendly counsel along historically established lines of allegiance and nationality; and international guarantees of the political and economic independence and territorial integrity of the several Balkan states should be entered into.

XII. The Turkish portion of the present Ottoman Empire should be assured a secure sovereignty, but the other nationalities which are now under Turkish rule should be assured an undoubted security of life and an absolutely unmolested opportunity of autonomous development, and the Dardanelles should be permanently opened as a free passage to the ships and commerce of all nations under international guarantees.

XIII. An independent Polish state should be erected which should include the territories inhabited by indisputably Polish populations, which should be assured a free and secure access to the sea, and whose political and economic independence and territorial integrity should be guaranteed by international covenant.

XIV. A general association of nations must be formed under specific covenants for the purpose of affording mutual guarantees of political independence and territorial integrity to great and small states alike.

It is interesting in that this was a massive break from US Foreign policy in previous years, as they have been isolationist. I was particularly pleased to make note of the fact that there will be an independent Polish state. I wonder if Peter is thinking of returning there.

I have been reading some of the war poetry that comes in newspapers and magazines. Rupert Brooke wrote a very touching poem called, If I die remember only this of me. Recently I found a similar poem, meant as a reply to Mr. Brooke, who apparently had been rather scathing of his poetry in the past. I will write them both out here.

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England.

There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Rupert Brooke

 

If I should die, be not concerned to know

The manner of my ending, if I fell

Leading a forlorn charge against the foe,

Strangled by gas, or shattered by a shell.

Nor seek to see me in this death-in-life

Mid shirks and curse, oaths and blood and sweat,

Cold in the darkness, on the edge of strife,

Bored and afraid, irresolute, and wet.

But if you think of me, remember one

Who loved good dinners, curious parody,

Swimming, and lying naked in the sun,

Latin hexameters, and heraldry,

Athenian subtleties of this and that,

Beethoven, Botticelli, beer, and boys.

Philip Bainbrigge

(I put in this and that for the foreign words I couldn’t read and didn’t want to get wrong.)

Peter has sent a poem by an Eastern European, Tristan Tzara, so I will put it in here for contrast.

Song of War (excerpt)

Mother, I weep all the time as if it were the end,

because the road is hard and keeps calling.

Our knees are sore and all the rest.

The wind scratches our eyes like nails,

exploding like grenades in our ears.

Here the troop halted at midday as

a river floods and spreads out over the fields.

The earth is burnt and there is a great sadness

burning like sin on the breast of a young girl.

The bread does nothing for our thirst.

 

February - March 1918

I have had my usual monthly letter from Jo. Here is a bit from it.

Tuesday 26th February I had a letter from Cyril. “We can hear our guns thumping the Hun about 10 miles away. I wish you could hear some guns fire . . . it nearly knocks you off your seat though they are quite ¾ mile away. A walking stick jumped halfway across the room yesterday.”

Dear Barbara, Rebecca and my little Beth,

On the 18th of March as a result of still further food shortage in the country, the above daily dietary was modified even more.

Each Prisoner of War employed on work receives two ozs of bread, three ozs of biscuit, and one oz of cheese in addition. In no other case is this additional food given, except on medical certificate.

Our main staple item now is potatoes, (although you say yours have been rationed, but of course we grow our own) and our meat/fish has been reduced considerably.

But we are not hungry.

Love from Peter

Another bit of local news is that Miss Hudson from Brabyns Hall has started a branch of a national organization called the Women’s Institute. She is going to be president for the first three years. I have joined. We hope to get premises near Ludworth School. The idea is that we all meet together once a month on the 1st Wednesday afternoon from 2-4. We have a speaker and tea and a chat, but we also have stalls to share whatever preserves we have in excess. I will try to interest them in some of the pickles that I put up when Peter was here, made from the herbs along the hedgerows and fields.

They have asked me if I will speak on my life in America sometime. The thought of speaking in front of such a big group frightens me, but I have said that I will do it. And I have suggested that we might get together on another afternoon for whist, and we will see if there is any support for the idea at the next meeting. I played a lot of whist when I lived in America as my parents were keen card players and I have missed doing it here, since John abhors cards. It will be another way, along with making popcorn and playing the organ, to keep me in touch with my heritage.

Speaking of playing the organ reminds me that I have a decision to make. After the meeting, Miss Hudson came up to me.

“Hello, Mrs. Davis,” she said. “I have heard that you are a church organist, is that correct?”

“Yes, I play sometimes at St. Mary’s Church,” I answered.

“We have a problem at the moment. Our organist at St. Martin’s is not very well, and needs to be absent from playing for the next few weeks. We do have some from our church who have agreed to step in, but there is still one Sunday in two weeks’ time, where we have not found anyone available. I wonder if you would do it?”

“Oh, but I am a Catholic.”

“Yes, of course. But surely, that doesn’t mean that you are unable to play the organ in another church, does it? Our service is at 11. I have already ascertained that you play at the 8.30 service, so you should be finished in time.”

“I don’t know how our church regards us attending Protestant churches. I have a feeling that they would not be pleased about it.”

“My dear Mrs. Davis, are you not capable of thinking for yourself? Do you think it would be wrong of you to play the organ for us to sing our simple hymns?”

“No, I can’t say that I do. I have been given a gift and I feel that if I can help you in your service, without in anyway compromising my beliefs, that I would be justified in doing it. But please can I have a few days to think it over? I will come and give you my answer soon.”

“Please do, because I am sure there will be other organists who will be very pleased to be offered the chance to play our organ. It was built by Father Willis, the most famous of all organ builders of the age, you know. People from all over come to St. Martin’s to play the organ for that very reason. You should realise that you are being offered a real opportunity here.”

“Yes, thank you, and I will give it very serious thought and let you know as soon as I can.”

“Very well,” said Miss Hudson, “we will leave it there for now. But if you haven’t contacted me in two days, I will see who else might be interested.”

“I promise I will let you know soon.”

So therein is my dilemma. I know that if I ask our priest what he thinks, he will tell me I can’t do it. If I don’t ask him, and just do it anyway, and he finds out, I can always say that I thought it would be okay – and no need to ask. (Another little white lie.)

I would very much like to play that organ. I would love to go into St. Martin’s Church – as it was designed by John Dando Sedding and is a prime example of church architecture of the age. But the question is, if I participate in the service, am I saying that I am giving my assent to that form of worship? I know that the Anglicans – whether they call themselves Anglo-Catholics or whatever, do not believe in the authority of the Pope. They do not believe that Christ built just one church, and that by the action of Henry VIII who started the Anglican Church to serve his selfish needs, he has caused a rift which seems insoluble. Yet my mind says, if those who follow that religion feel it is the right thing for them, why should it be up to me to question them any more than it should be up to them to question my faith?

I have decided. I will go to see Miss Hudson tomorrow and tell her that I will play.

Talking of churches, the Congregational Church has had a shake up. They have done so much during this war, giving use of the hall over to the Belgians, organizing collections and parcels for the servicemen. There are few young men who now go to the church as they are all fighting, and as a result a shortage of Sunday school teachers. Anyway, the minister shocked the congregation the other day by resigning, saying he had neither their sympathy nor support for doing the spiritual work of the Church. Later he withdrew his resignation at the unanimous request of the Diaconate.

Those poems I wrote earlier – both starting, “if I should die think this of me,” well, the poets are both dead now.

Philip Bainbrigge was killed in action in February at the Battle of Epéhy and I hadn’t even realised that Rupert Brooke died way back in 1915. This is what the papers said about it at the time.

In September 1914, Churchill offered Brooke a commission in the RND, and within a month sub lieutenant Brooke participated in the evacuation of Antwerp. Back in England over the Christmas holidays, Brooke wrote his famous “war sonnets.”

In February, he joined the Division’s Hood Battalion in preparation for the landings at Gallipoli. Passing through Egypt on his way to Gallipoli, Brooke suffered sunstroke and dysentery.

Off Lemnos he contracted blood poisoning from an insect bite on his lip and died two days before the landings, on April 23rd. Churchill cabled his brother John “endeavour if your duties allow, to attend Rupert Brooke’s funeral on my behalf. We shall not see his like again.”

And another sad item from the local paper.

31 March 1918

Tom Platt, Marple, was so proud of chauffeuring for William Dean of Lilybank Cobden Edge Mellor and also for J.T. Pott, the chairman of Marple Urban District Council and proprietor of the Bull's Head. He was killed in action in Salonika on 31 March. His brother also in the army serving his country gave his life last year in Mesopotamia.