Reading through the book about Marguerite, I noticed that she wrote poetry. I wonder if she wrote poetry about the conflict?
Marguerite was born on 25th March 1892 in Kensington, London, UK. Her parents were Allen Gordon McArthur, a barrister and J.P., who was born in Australia, and Emma Maude Finley McArthur, nee Finlay, who was born in Canada. Marguerite had a brother, Alexander and a sister, Kathleen. Marguerite was educated at Norland Place School in Notting Hill Gate, London, Newnham College, Cambridge and then in Dresden in Germany. She was well travelled and well educated.
When war broke out, Marguerite was visiting family in Canada. She returned to Britain in October 1914 and immediately volunteered. She worked in the War Office Translation Bureau fro two years due to her language skills. From March 1918 Marguerite worked for the Army Education Service of the YMCA, teaching in Etaples, France.
Marguerite died of pneumonia on 13th February 1919, at the age of 26 and was buried in Etaples Military Cemetery, Pas de Calais, France - Grave Reference: XLV. B. 7.
After her death, Marguerite’s friend Josephione Kellett put together a book about her which is available here: https://archive.org/details/thatfriendofmine00kell/page/n7 I urge you to read it!
Wednesday, 13 February 2019
Monday, 11 February 2019
Elsa Lasker-Schüler (1869 – 1945) – German Poet and Artist
The Queen of Expressionism
Herwarth Walden .
Elsa died on 22nd January 1945.
Elsa’s poem “Als Der Blaue Reiter War Gefallen… (Translation: As the Blue Rider Died…)
was a comment upon the death of German impressionist painter and printmaker Franz Marc who was a member of the expressionist “Blaue Reiter” group of artists – “Blaue Reiter being the title of their magazine. In 1913, Franz Marc painted a picture called "Tierschicksale", which seems to predict the slaughter of the First World War.
Franz Marc was killed in France in March 1916. The following poem was published in “Neue Jugend” Magazine, Volume 1, Issue 11/12, February/March 1917, on page 245.
“Als Der Blaue Reiter War Gefallen…"
Griffen unsere Hände sich wie Ringe:-
Küssten uns wie Brüder auf den Mund.
Harfen wurden unsere Augen,
Als sie weinten: Himmlisches Konzert.
Nun sind unsere Herzen Waisenengel.
Seine tiefgekränkte Gottheit
Ist erloschen in dem Bilde: Tierschicksale.
Translation: “When the Blue Rider Died”
We clasped our hands in shapes of rings:-
And, like brothers, kissed each other on the lips.
Our eyes became harps
Our tears flowed as a heavenly concert.
Now our hearts are orphaned angels.
His deep-drawn godliness
Has been removed from the picture: the fate of the animals.
The name for the Blue Rider Group (Blaue Reiter) came from a work painted in 1903 by Russian artist Wassily Wassilyevich Kandinsky (1866 – 1944).
Saturday, 9 February 2019
Winifred Mabel Letts featured in the very first commemorative WW1 exhibition we produced - Female Poets of the First World War. The exhibition was held at the award-winning Wilfred Owen Story in Argyle Street, Birkenhead, Wirral, UK from November 2012.
Educated at Abbots Bromley School, Winifred went on to study at Alexandra College in Dublin. Her career as a writer began in 1907 when the novels “Waste Castle” and “The Story Spinner” were published.
During the First World War, Winifred joined the Volunteer Aid Detachment and worked as a nurse at Manchester Base Hospitall. She then trained as a medical masseuse with the Almeric Paget Military Massage Corps and worked at Army camps in Manchester and Alnwick, Northumberland.
Winifred’s WW1 poetry collections were “Hallow-e’en, and other poems of the war” (Smith, Elder, 1916) and “The Spires of Oxford, and other poems” (Dutton, New York, 1917). Her poems were included in 21 WW1 poetry anthologies.
Winifred died on 7th June 1972 at the Tivoli Nursing Home in Dun Laoghaire, Ireland and was buried in Rathcoole, County Dublin.
Sources: Bairbre O’Hogan, who, as a child, knew Winifred Letts, who was a friend of Bairbre’s Mother. Bairbre is researching the life of Winifred Mabel Letts and is happy to hear from anyone with queries or information by e-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org
The photograph of Winifred is reproduced here by kind permission of Bairbre.
Catherine W. Reilly “English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography” (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1978) p. 198
There is a book of the exhibition held at the WOS "Female Poets of the First World War - Volume One" available via Amazon.
The Award-winning Wilfred Owen Story is at 34 Argyle Street, Birkenhead, Wirral, CH41 6AE. The WOS is open Tuesdays to Fridays from 12 noon until 2 pm. Entry is free. Please check their website for details: http://www.wilfredowenstory.com/
An exhibition about the WW1 Aftermath and its Legacy is now on display at the WOS. If you are planning a visit, don't forget to visit the Futility statue in Hamilton Square.
Monday, 4 February 2019
Poetry was taught in schools – my Mother, who was born in 1910, often used to quote from poems she learnt at primary school. People copied out poems into exercise books – I have seen quite a few – and they read or recited poems at family gatherings.
In his book “The Years of Promise”, writer, journalist and poet Cecil Roberts, who worked for the “Liverpool Post” during WW1, has this to say: “In the years preceding the First World War there was a renaissance of poetry in England. Two events marked the spirit of this time, one was the publication in 1912 of the first volume of “Georgian Poetry” edited by Edward Marsh, which has a phenomenal success; the other was a brave enterprise launched by Harold Munro.” Roberts was referring to The Poetry Workshop, which opened in Devonshire Street, off Holborn in January 1913.
On Friday, 12th June 1914, Cecil Roberts, hired the Bechstein Hall in Wigmore Street, London W1 for an evening reciting poems he had written. Tickets were on sale from ten shillings and sixpence (which represents the buying power of about £115 in today’s money) down to two shillings (about £20 today), and the event was a sell-out and a great success. Incidentally, like the British Royal Family, the Bechstein Hall had a name change during the First World War and it became the Wigmore Hall.
“The Years of Promise” (Hodder & Stoughton, London, 1968 )
The first woman to hold the title of Poet Laureate in America
In 1920 Louise spent a few years in Vienna, leaving her daughter with her parents. In Vienna, Louise explored her loneliness and her new identity in verse. She returned to New York City and in 1923 her first poetry collection, “Body of This Death: Poems”, was published by McBride and Company, New York.
Louise married the poet Raymond Holden in 1925 but the marriage ended in divorce in 1837.
In 1927, Louise became poetry editor of “The New Yorker” Magazine.
Louise’s poetry was published in “The New Republic”, “The Nation”, “Poetry: A Magazine of Verse”, “Scribner's”, and “Atlantic Monthly”. “Collected Poems: 1923–1953” won Louise the Bollingen award in 1955 as well as an award from the Academy of American Poets in 1959. She was the poetry reviewer of The New Yorker from 1931 until she retired in 1970.
Louise died on 4th February 1970.
Connie Ruzich's commemorative WW1 poetry website is called Behind their Lines - such a clever title - https://behindtheirlines.blogspot.com/2018/09/to-my-brother-killed.html
From "Fifteenth Farewell"
You may have all things from me, save my breath.
The slight life in my throat will not give pause
For your love, nor your loss, nor any cause.
Shall I be made a panderer to death,
Dig the green ground for darkness underneath,
Let the dust serve me, covering all that was
With all that will be? Better, from time's claws,
The hardened face under the subtle wreath.
Cooler than stones in wells, sweeter, more kind
Than hot, perfidious words, my breathing moves
Close to my plunging blood. Be strong, and hang
Unriven mist over my breast and mind.
My breath! We shall forget the heart that loves,
Though in my body beat its blade, and its fang.
From “Body of this Death: Poems” by Louise Bogan, published by Robert M. McBridge & Company, New York, 1923.
Photo of Louise Bogan from http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/faces.html
Thursday, 31 January 2019
Following on from my post on 20thAugust 2014, here is a little more information about Eva.
Eva joined the Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD) on 5th November 1914. She served as a nurse at The Priory Hospital, Gloucester, which opened on 5th November 1914.
Eva served during WW1 until 15th November 1917. Her experiences during WW1 inspired her poetry.
Eva's Red Cross VAD Record Card
The Priory Hospital, Gloucester
After the war, Eva continued to write, publishing poetry collections and a verse drama. She also edited a book of poems by Lady Margaret Sackville.
Eva died in Cheltenham on 3rd September 1963.
Eva’s poetry collection ”A Bunch of Cotswold Grasses: Poems” was published by Stockwell in 1919 and “Verses Old and New” was published by P. Favil in 1959.
“English Poetry of the First World War: A Bibliography” by Catherine W. Reilly (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1978) p. 112; Find my Past, The British Red Cross data base of WW1 VADs and
Photograph Eva Dobell in uniform, WW1 - photographer unknown.
Eva's Red Cross Record Card.
"Night Duty" by Eva Dobell
The pain and laughter of the day are done
So strangely hushed and still the long ward seems,
Only the Sister’s candle softly beams.
Clear from the church near by the clock strikes ’one’;
And all are wrapt away in secret sleep and dreams.
Here one cries sudden on a sobbing breath,
Gripped in the clutch of some incarnate fear:
What terror through the darkness draweth near?
What memory of carnage and of death?
What vanished scenes of dread to his closed eyes appear?
And one laughs out with an exultant joy.
An athlete he — Maybe his young limbs strain
In some remembered game, and not in vain
To win his side the goal — Poor crippled boy,
Who in the waking world will never run again.
One murmurs soft and low a woman’s name;
And here a vet’ran soldier calm and still
As sculptured marble sleeps, and roams at will
Through eastern lands where sunbeams scorch like flame,
By rich bazaar and town, and wood-wrapt snow-crowned hill.
Through the wide open window on great star,
Swinging her lamp above the pear-tree high,
Looks in upon these dreaming forms that lie
So near in body, yet in soul so far
As those bright worlds thick strewn ion that vast depth of sky.
Wednesday, 9 January 2019
Lucie was a talented poet, writer, journalist, sculptor and designer. She married the translator and oriental studies expert J.C. Mardrus. By the time WW1 broke out, Lucie was famous.
Divorced in 1915, Lucie volunteered as a nurse in Hospital 13 in Honfleur. After the war she lived and worked in Paris.
I have not yet been able to find war-related poems by Lucie, apart from these lines, written on 16th August 1914:
Toi mère et toi, ma soeur Marie
Pour moi recitez un Ave
Allons enfants de la patrie
Le jour de gloire est arrivé.