Saturday, 7 November 2015

Sir Edmund Gosse on Belgian Poets

In "King Albert's Book" which was published at Christmas 1914 by Hodder and Stoughton in aid of the Daily Telegraph Fund for Belgium, Sir Edmund Gosse wrote about Belgian poets:

Max Waller who founded 'La Jeune Belgue'
Charles van Leerberghe
Georges Rodenbach
Emile Verhaeren
Maurice Maeterlinck
Andre Fontainas
Max Elskamp
Albert Mockel
Albert Giraud

King Albert's Book is available as a download on Archive:


Harold Begbie (1871 - 1929) - British poet, writer and journalist

Edward Harold Begbie was the fifth son of Mars Hamilton Begbie and his wife Anna Eliza. Harold's father was an Anglican Church priets and Rector of the Parish Church of Farnham St. Martin in Suffolk.  Although he first became a farmer, Harold later moved to London where he joined 'The Daily Chronicle' newspaper and later 'The Globe' newspaper as a journalist.

In 1892, Harold married Alice Gertrude Seal and they had four daughters, Janet, who was also a poet, Joan, Eve and Eleanor. During the First World War, Harold wrote recruiting poems and travelled to America to try to help the war effort on behalf of his newspaper. 

Harold Begbie's WW1 poetry collection "Fighting Lines and Various Reinforcements: Poems" was published by Constable in 1914.  His poems were included in 16 WW1 poetry anthologies.

Harold died in London in 1929.

With thanks to Roger Quin, Harold's grandson, for information and for the photograph of the Begbie family.

And here is one of Harold's poems
HANDING DOWN by Harold Begbie

This is the WW1 poem I first read at the age of seven.  It was handwritten in my Aunt's little black book commemorating the First World War. Sadly, her book went astray during a house move some years ago. I have been searching for the poem ever since.  Aunt Audrey was in the Wrens during WW2. She emigrated to South Africa after the war and died there.  She left her notebook and a photo album with my Mother. I read both avidly.   The poem always made me cry.  I can honestly say that is where my interest in WW1 poetry came from.

Soldier what are you writing
By the side of your cooling gun?
Sir, since Im stopped from fightings
A word to my little son.

Tell me the thing you've written
For I love the writer's art:
Sir, that to be a Briton
Is worth a broken heart.

Show me so fine a letter
That you write in the trenches mud:
Sir, you could read it better
Were it not for the stain of blood.

Soldier tell me your story
Your eyes grow bright and wide:
Sir, it's a taste of glory
To think of the young one's pride.

Would you like to be a soldier, little Tommy-all-my-own,
Would you like to tip the Kaiser off his high and mighty throne?
Would you like to be with father in a well-dug British trench,
Knocking spots off German Generals and saluting General French?

Would I like to be with Tommy, little Tommy-all-my-own,
Would I give a month of Sundays just to see how he has grown?
Yes ! Id like to be a dustman in the poorest London streets
For the chance of meeting Tommy with a gumboil made of sweets.

If you want to be where I am, why, I want to be with you.
But I'm here to show a tyrant that a Briton's word is true
We must stand by little Belgium, we must fight till fighting ends.
We must show the foes of Britain that we don't desert our friends.

Don't you go and think, my Tommy, little Tommy-all-my-own.
That we're squabbling here for nothing, that we're growling for a bone:
We are here for Britain's honour, for our freedom, for our peace.
And we're also here, my Tommy, that these wicked wars may cease.

Don't you say that I am funky, don't you say that I am sick,
Boy, I'm half afraid to tell you, but I love it when it's thick —
When the shells are screaming, bursting, and the whistling bullets wail,
God forgive me, but I love it, and I fight with tooth and nail.

But it's after, looking round us, missing friends and finding dead.
It is then the British soldier gets a fancy in his head.
And he swears by God in heaven that the man who starts a war.
Should go swimming into judgment down an avalanche of gore.

That's what makes us such great fighters, and I'd have you be the same,
Love your country like a good un, hold your head up, play the game,
Be a straight and pleasant neighbour, be a cool, un-ruffled man.
But when bullies want a thrashing, why, you thrash them all you can.

While you say your prayers, my Tommy, little Tommy-all-my-own,
Asking God to save your Daddy, I send this one to His throne:
Save my little lad from slaughter, guard his heart and mind from wrong,
Keep him sweet and kind and gentle, yes, but make him awful strong.

Good-night, my little Tommy, here's your Daddy's good-bye kiss.
Don't forget what I have told you, and remember also this —
If I don't come back to see you, I shall die without a groan,
For it's great to fall for Freedom, little Tommy-all- my-own.  

A huge thank you to Ann Swabey for finding the poem for me


With grateful thanks to Janet Begbie's Great-nephew Roger Quin for his help with information about the Begbie family and for kindly allowing reproduction of this photograph.


Tuesday, 3 November 2015

Arthur Lewis Jenkins (1892 - 1917) and Elinor Jenkins (1893 - 1920) - British brother and sister poets of WW1

I found one or two husband and wife poets but this is the first time I have found a brother and sister who were both poets: 

Arthur Lewis Jenkins (1892 - 1917)

Arthur Lewis Jenkins was the eldest son of Sir John Lewis Jenkins, KCSI. He was born in Gloucestershire on 9th March 1892.   His mother was Florence Mildred Jenkins, nee Trevor, who was born in India. Florence's father was Sir Arthur  Charles Trevor KCSI.   Arthur's siblings were Elinor Jenkins (WW1 poet) born in India in around 1893, Evan Meredith Jenkins, born in 1896 - who became a Governor of the Punjab - Joyce Angharad Jenkins, born in 1897, David Llewellyn Jenkins, born in 1899 - who became Baron Jenkins a high court judge - John Vaughn Jenkins, born in 1903, and Owain Trevor Jenkins, born in 1907 - who was later knighted.

Although their Father lived in India and their mother spent some time there, the Jenkins children were educated in England, where they lived at the family home in Littleham, Exmouth, Devon.

Arthur studied at Marlborough College after winning a scholarship to attend the school, where he eventually became Head Boy.  He went on to study classics at Balliol College, Oxford and after a career in the army, planned to follow his father into the Indian Civil Service.

Commissioned into the British Army in 1911, Arthur was sent with his Regiment to India, then to Aden and later to Egypt.  Arthur joined the Royal Flying Corps during the First World War and was killed while on a training flight on 31st December 1917 at the age of 25.  He is buried in Richmond Cemetery in Surrey.

Some of his poems were published in "Punch" magazine during his lifetime and a collection of his work was published by Sidgwick &  Jackson under the title "Forlorn Adventures (and other poems)"  in 1918.   Some of Arthur's poems were also included in WW1 poetry anthologies.

Sources: 

Roll of Honour;
"Western Mail" Thursday, 3 January 1918
Catherine W. Reilly "English Poetry of the First World War A Bibliography" (St. Martin's Press, New York, 1978)

Elinor Jenkins (c. 1893 - 1920)

Elinor May Jenkins was born in India where her father, Sir John Lewis Jenkins KCSI, was a civil servant and became Vice President of the Indian Viceroy's Council.  Elinor's mother was Florence Mildred Jenkins, nee Trevor, who was also born in India. Florence's father was Sir Arthur  Charles Trevor KCSI.   Elinor's six siblings were Arthur Lewis Jenkins, born in 1892 - who also became a poet - Evan Meredith Jenkins, born in 1896 - who became a Governor of the Punjab - Joyce Angharad Jenkins, born in 1897, David Llewellyn Jenkins, born in 1899 - who became Baron Jenkins a high court judge - John Vaughn Jenkins, born in 1903, and Owain Trevor Jenkins, born in 1907 - who was later knighted.

The Jenkins children were educated in England, where they lived at the family home in Littleham, Exmouth, Devon. Elinor attended Southlands School in Exmouth.  In 1912, following the death of Elinor's father, the family went to live in Kew.

Elinor died during the influenza epidemic on 28th February 1920 at the family home in Richmond - she was 26 years old.  Her collection of WW1 poems was published under the title "Poems" by Sidgwick and Jackson of London in 1915.  Elinor's poems were also included in several WW1 anthologies.

Sources:

Catherine W. Reilly "English Poetry of the First World War A Bibliography" (St. Martin's Press, New York, 1978) 

With many thanks to Jacky Rodgers, who found the information about Arthur while researching his sister the poet Elinor Jenkins and for additional information thanks are also due to Phil Dawes, Dean Echenberg, Ian Glen, Arts and Humanities Librarian at Swansea University and
Sidgwick and Jackson.

Wednesday, 23 September 2015

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson (1878 - 1962)

One of the best things about this commemorative WW1 exhibition project is that people get in touch regularly and I am truly grateful to them.  Michael posted a comment on the List of Forgotten Poets found so far about Wilfrid W. Gibson, pointing out that I had mis-spelt his name and that he did not in fact serve on the Western Front as some earlier researchers believed.  Thank you Michael, that entry on the List has now been corrected.  Michael also gave me the link to a website by Judy Greenway, a relative of Wilfred Gibson and it is very interesting indeed.

Many thanks to everyone who has sent me e-mails, messages on Facebook and/or left comments on my weblog - together we will find and remember them all.

www.judygreenway-org-uk/wp/wilfreid-gibson-poetry-familyhistory/

Thursday, 20 August 2015

The Saga continues... (who wrote the poem 'Red, Red Road to Hogue'?)

There's more!  

Geoff Harrison has just sent me this:  

"It gets more and more interesting. Simon Featherstone in his anthology ' War poetry - an introductory reader' attributes it to Pte. W. Lloyd of the 12th Sherwood's. Corporal G. E Attwood of the 2nd London Regiment had it published. ( not sure of date) 

Pte John Hughes, of the Leinster regiment had 'his' poem published in the Longford Leader on 15th Jan 1916. 

Pte W.J Walton also wrote it. His nephew John Walton published the ' manuscript' in a Buckingham and District newsletter. And then, finally ( for now), the National Archives have the private papers of one Thomas Moore Emmanual Ward (Ted) of the Sherwoods'. Ward was part of the group responsible for the wiper's times. The copy is a handwritten manuscript. So Lucy, the plot thickens. That's at least 8 possible sources. Geoff Harrison, 19th August 2015.

Many thanks indeed Geoff.

Wednesday, 19 August 2015

Replies regarding the author of the poem 'The Red, Red Road to Hooge'


Michael Day and James Grant Repshire both kindly replied and re-tweeted my Tweet asking for help in finding the author of the poem 'The Red, Red road to Hooge' mentioned in an earlier post.

Michael sent me this reply :

Quick searches reveal several other versions of this poem published during the war, but none seem to be earlier than the Burton Daily Mail version that you have referred to. 

Here are those that I've found: The Brecon County Times, 24 February 1916, published a version referring to the "Medical and Ambulance Brigade," attributed to Private T. Peace, R.A.M.C., B.E.F. 

The Whitby Gazette, 24 March 1916 published a version adapted in various places to refer to the Royal Fusiliers and the Rifle Brigade; it was attributed to Lance Corporal W. Marshall, Royal Fusiliers, attached Military Mounted Police, the son of Robert Marshall, Smith's Yard, Church Street, Whitby. It is described as "a description of the advance on Hooge, September 25th 1915." 

The Ottawa Evening Citizen, 14 June 1916, published a 'Canadian' version that it explained as being: “enclosed by Brig.-Gen. Victor Williams to Col. Gwynne of the Canadian militia, in a letter under date of May 29.
 
James suggested searching the archives of the Staffordshire Regiment and I have sent an e-mail to the research department of the Regiment's museum.

Many thanks indeed Michael and James.


Tuesday, 18 August 2015

Can anyone help find the true writer of the WW1 poem 'The Red, Red Road to Hooge'?


I wasn't sure whether this should come under the heading Fascinating Facts or Forgotten Poets of the First World War.   All help in solving this mystery will be greatly appreciated and I will, as always, credit those who help me.

Andrew Thornton, who runs the wonderful Facebook Group https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-British-Expeditionary-Force-on-the-Western-Front-1914-1918/377498902412962?pnref=story which is all 
about the professional soldiers of the First World War - the 'Old Contemptibles' of which my Grandfather was one - has posted a very interesting poem.  

Andrew says:

"I came across this poem today while doing some research. I haven't seen it before, but thought you would like to read it:

THE RED, RED ROAD TO HOOGE.

“On parade – get your spade;
Fall in the “Shovel and Pick Brigade;”
There’s a “Carry Fatigue” for half a league,
And a trench to dig with a spade.
Through the dust and ruins of Ypres town,
The “Seventeen Inch” still battering down;
Spewing death with its fiery breath;
On the red, red road to Hooge.

Who is the one whose time has come.
Who won’t return when the work is done.
Who’ll leave his bones on the blood-stained stones
Of the red, red road to Hooge?
Onward the Staffords – never a stop;
To the sand-bagged trench, and over the top;
Over the top, if a “packet” you stop.
On the red, red road to Hooge.

The burst and the road of a hand grenade,
Welcome us on to the death parade;
The Pit of Gloom – the Valley of Doom
The Crater – down at Hooge.
Full many a soldier from the Rhine
Must sleep to-night in a bed of lime,
‘Tis a pitiless grave for a brave or a knave,
Is the Crater – down at Hooge.

Hark to the stand to fusillade.
Sling your rifle, bring your spade,
And fade away, ‘ere break of day,
Or a hole you’ll fill at Hooge.
Call the roll – and another name
Is sent to swell the Roll of Fame;
So we carve a cross to mark the loss
Of a chum who fell at Hooge.

Not a deed for the paper man to write,
No glorious charge in the dawning light;
The “Daily Mail” won’t tell the tale
Of the night work out at Hooge.
But our General knows, and his praise we’ve won,
He’s pleased with the work the Staffords have done,
In the shot and shell at the gates of hell,
On the red, red road to Hooge.”

The poem was attributed to an unidentified soldier from Derby who served with the 1st Battalion, The North Staffordshire Regiment, and was published in 'The Derby Evening Telegraph' on 7th October 1915.  The same poem, this time attributed to 8962 Private William Woolley, who served with the 1st Battalion, The North Staffordshire Regiment, was published in 'The Burton Daily Mail' on 12th October 1915.

The poem was also published in 'The Burton Daily Mail' on 6th December 1915. Based on what the lines mention, I would say the fighting during July and August 1915 were the inspiration.  The 6th Division  made the attack on 9th August 1915 and the 1st North Staffords and 2nd Sherwood Foresters, which both had soldiers who claimed to be the author, served at Hooge at that time. The crater mentioned in the poem was from a mine blown by the British in July.

Further research by Geoff Harrison has found other versions of the same poem.   73914 Private Jack O'Brien, who served with the 28th Battalion, Canadian Expeditionary Force, included it his in his book 'Into The Jaws of Death' (available on archive.org) substituting 'Canadians' for 'Staffords', while a Private W. Lloyd of the 12th Battalion, The Sherwood Foresters, and an unidentified soldier serving with "A" Company of the 2nd Battalion of the same Regiment, also claimed authorship.  In both those cases, rather than ' Onward the Staffords', the phrase 'Onwards the Sherwoods' was substituted.

A transport cook called Frances used 'Onward the Lancs' in his version printed in a parish newspaper from Dearnley, which is in south east Lancashire.

(The photograph of Hooge was taken in July 1929 (by someone from Spalding possibly) and shows the view at Hooge looking across toward Ypres, with the Cross of Sacrifice of Hooge Crater Cemetery clearly visible.)   Andrew Thornton, August 2015


Hooge (pronounced like 'hoague-ah' in Flemish - difficult to explain!) is a village in Flanders in Belgium about four kilometres from Ypres, and was part of the famous 'Ypres Salient' on the Western Front - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hooge_(Ypres)


My grateful thanks to Andrew Thornton and to Geoff Harrison who have both been extremely supportive of my commemorative exhibition project.