Another Poem by Shushanik Kurghinian

Although this poem was not written during the period of the First World War, it has a very powerful message that is still valid today.   As Shushan Avagyan has kindly sent me her translations of several poems written by Shushanik Kurghinian, I thought I would share some of them with you.

I Want to Live

S. Kurghinian, 1907

I want to live, but not a lavish life

trapped in obscurity, unconcern, foolishness,

nor an outright hostage of beauty aids

as a frail creature, delicate and feeble

but equal to you, oh men, prosperous

as you are powerful and headstrong,

fit against calamities, ingenious in mind

and bodies full of fervor.

 

I want to love, unreserved, without a mask

autonomous like you, so that when in love

I can sing my feelings to the world

and unchain my heart a woman’s heart

before the crowds . . . ignoring their stern

judgements with my shield and destroy

their prickly arrows aimed at me

with all my vigor unrestrained!

 

I want to act, equal, next to you,

as a loyal member of the people,

let me suffer over and again, night or day,

wandering from one place to another,

always struggling for the ideal

of freedom . . . And let this burden

torment me even in my exile

only to gain a purpose in this life.

 

I want to eat, comfortably as you do,

from that same fair bread, for which

I gave my share of holy work;

in the struggle for existence, humble and meek,

without feeling humiliated, let me

shed sweat-and-tears for a blessed earning,

let scarlet blood flow from my worker’s hands

and let my back tire in pain!

 

I want to fight, first as your rival,

standing against you with an old vengeance,

that absurdly and without mercy you

turned me into a vassal through love and force.

Then after clearing these issues of my sex

I want to fight against the agonies of life

courageously like you, holding your hand,

facing together this strife of being or not . . .

Shushanik Popolijian Kurghinian (1876 - 1927) - Armenian

I received a wonderful e-mail recently from Shushan Avagyan (b. 1976), a translator and lecturer in the College of Humanities and Social Sciences at the American University of Armenia.  Shushan sent me a wealth of very interesting information that she has written about one of the poets on my List - Armenian poet Shushanik Popoljian Kurghinian - together with other biographical notes and photographs of the poet.  

Shushanik Popoljian Kurghinian was born on 18^th August 1876 in Alexandropol (now called Gyumri) in Eastern Armenia.  In 1893 Shushanik joined the Armenian Social Democrat Hunchak Party.  She wrote poetry, prose and plays and began to consider ways to free Armenians from Turkish and Czarist rule.

Shushanik married Arshak Kurghinian.  In 1903 she travelled alone to Russia where she joined a clandestine workers’ movement in Rostov-on-Don.   Her first collection of poetry was published in 1907.   Shushanik’s poetry speaks for the under-privileged – especially women – and is a rallying call for the poor and oppressed.

Shushanik’s husband died in 1917.  In 1921 she returned to Armenia where she became ill and died in 1927.   Her daughter compiled and published Shushan’s poetry in several collections.

Shushan sent me several of her translations of Shushanik’s poems – here is one of them.

The Girl

S. Kurghinian, 1917

 

With old and tattered clothes,

with beautiful eyes of azure

the child of great anguish is she,

 

who wears a dishonored smile upon

her face¾a promiscuous wanton look

from the early experienced lust.

 

To the crowded market full of people

she comes pale, lifeless and hungry

looking for an “acquaintance” . . .

 

¾Take me, for the price of a slice

of bread or a glass of wine,

she sobs out loud.

 

¾Take my beggarly body,

my soul, ravaged and forlorn,

my heart¾all for a shameless sale!

 

¾Come, I said, wretched sister,

come and I will ease your pain,

release you from shame.

 

And she cursed me obscenely, laughing,

¾You think you are purer than me?

Me, abandoned by blind fate?

Alexandra Seager (1870 - 1950) - Australian

Alexandra was born Alexandrine Laidlaw on 10^th November 1870 in Ballarat, Victoria, Australia.  Her father was farmer and miner William Laidlaw and her mother Helen Mickel, nee Dickson.

On 16^th June 1891, Alexandrine married Clarendon James Seager, a widower and British Army Officer.  In 1908, by which time they had six children, the family moved to live in Adelaide.   There, Alexandrine started up a business called The Scholastic Agency that found governesses and servants for outlying farms and cattle stations.

The three Seager boys joined the Australian Imperial Force in 1914 and following a visit to one of them, Alexandrine began a campaign to persuade the women of Australia to support the war and the Cheer-Up Society came into being.  Women volunteers visited military camps and hospitals, arranging concerts, lunches and special farewell ceremonies for the troops.   They also organised parcels to send to the troops.  

Alexandrine also started a campaign to have the Violet adopted as the flower of remembrance in Australia and the very first Violet Day was held on 2nd July 1915.

From 1915 onwards, the Cheer-up Society organised refreshments for soldiers in a marquee behind the railway station in Adelaide.  Later a hut was opened to replace the temporary arrangement in nearby Elder Park - The Cheer-Up Hut.

Alexandrine’s youngest son George lost his life at Gallipoli but she continued to write patriotic poems and to support the war effort.   She started the South Australian Returned Soldiers Association.   During the Depression of the 1930s, the Cheer-Up Hut provided meals for the poor.

Alexandrine and her husband retired to live on Kangaroo Island where their sons lived.  She continued to write poetry.  Alexandrine died on 12^th March 1950 and was buried in the cemetery at Kingscote.

Sources:  Michael Sharkey, Editor of The Australian Poetry Journal

and

http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/seager-alexandrine-8378

Here is Alexandra Seager’s poem about Violets, kindly sent to me by Michael Starkey:

‘Violet Verses’

(To the dear memory of George Rothwell Seager, whose good-bye was “If I stop a bit of German lead, be a sport!”)

To-day we wear the clinging violet

            In memory of the brave,

While ever thoughts of fond but proud regret,

            Come surging wave on wave.

 

Some sleep beside the sobbing Dardanelles,

            And some in gallant France,

‘Mid gardens fair, where medieval bells

            Wake echoes of romance.

 

‘Twas fitting that the young and brave should die

            To build a nation’s name—

That strong young hands should mould her destiny

            In an undying fame.

 

In morning’s glory or the moon of life                  [sic] [‘noon’ in VV]

            They fell, our fighting men;

In burning valour–the white heat of strife—

            They passed beyond our ken.

 

“Whom the gods love,” so the ancients said, “die young”

            How could it other be?

Would love drag glorious youth through weary years

            To age’s misery?

 

What would we choose, if choose we could, for those

            So infinitely dear?

The glowing beauty of the blooming rose,

            Or dry dead leaves and drear?

 

The commonplace of life—dull, sordid care,

            Or humdrum safe content,

Inconsequent small things that jar and wear

            And hard words kindly meant?

 

Ah! theirs was Life—life worthy of a man—                                [‘Theirs’ in VV]

            Whose exit was a thrill;

No weary acquiescence in a plan

            That long, dull years must fill.

 

In contemplation of what might have been,

            Our aching hearts are filled

With sweet, sad thoughts; and for a little time

            The yearning ache is stilled.

 

Then suddenly it wakes, as unaware

            There flits across the track

A little, laughing child, whose sunny hair

            Brings crowding mem’ries back.

 

A snatch of song, the perfume of a flower,

            And all the world grows dim.

The barriers we built and felt a power

            Melt in one thought of Him.

 

Yet some in all this storm, and stress, and strain,

            When nations reel and rock,

In shameful safety ply their lust for gain,

            Unmov’d whate’er the shock—

 

While on the altar of the Empire’s might,

            For Love and Honour’s sake,

Proud, passionate young life there claims the right

            The sacrifice to make.

 

And we, the mothers, sisters, sweethearts, wives

            Of these, our dear young dead,

Leave with them there the sunshine of our lives,

Lost in a mist of red.

 

For them no tolling bell, no fun’ral pall—

            (Theirs was no common death);                            [‘Their’s’ in VV)

But flowers whose spring-like fragrance touches all

            With love in every breath.

 

“Far better to have loved and lost,” they say,

            “Than never loved at all,”

For always at some time gold turns to gray,

            And evening shadows fall.

 

We’ll strew with thoughts of love and fairest flowers

            The paths our heroes trod;

We’ll bless the precious years that made them ours—

            And leave the rest to God.

  Alexandra Seager, August 25th 1916

 Source: A. Seager, ‘Men: A Collection of Verses Written During the War’, ns, nd [Adelaide: The Author, 1919], pp. 15-18.

 NOTE. The same poem is printed in the anthology ‘Violet Verses’, Adelaide, ns, nd [1917], and adds ‘By His Mother’ after the epigraph. Fryer PR8161. W28V56 1917 1.

Australian Women Poets of the First World War

One of the most fantastic things about this commemorative WW1 project is the contact I now have with people from all corners of the world.   I recently received an e-mail from Michael Sharkey, who edits the ‘Australian Poetry Journal’ in Melbourne Australia.  Michael, a former university lecturer and poet who has been researching and lecturing on Australian women’s WW1 poetry for many years, had come across my weblog and very kindly sent me details of some more Australian women poets of the First World War.

Michael reminded me that when Helen Power was born, Tasmania, like the other Australian States, was a separate Crown Colony of the British Empire.  Australia as a single entity was not formed until 1901, when these Crown Colonies became The Confederacy of Australia.  

I am very grateful to Michael and indeed to all those who contribute to this commemorative First World War project which is in memory of my Grandfather, an Old Contemptible with the Royal Field Artillery who survived service in both World Wars and of my two Great Uncles -  one who was killed at Arras on Easter Monday, 9th April 1917 and the other who died of Pneumonia on 8th November 1918 on board the Thames Barge '99' of which he was Master, following a trip to Dunkirk delivering vital supplies to the British Army. 

I need to add the following Australian women poets of WW1 to my List:

Mabel Forrest

Nora McAuliffe

Beatrice Vale Bevan

Emily Courgeau

Helen Power

Ellie Wemyss

Source:  e-mails from Michael Sharkey who sent me a copy of an article he wrote on the subject that was published in ‘Australian Literary Studies’, volume 23, No. 1, pp. 63 – 78).

Kathleen Ethel Burne (1879 - 1959) - British

Kathleen Ethel Burne was born in Kensington on 11th May 1879.   Her father was Thomas Burne who worked as a clerk in a colliery in Co. Durham and her mother was Mary Isabella Simons.   The family moved to London in 1864 when Thomas worked for the Civil Service, re-organising the War Office accounts during the Boer War.  He then became an Officer's secretary at the Royal Hospital, Chelsea. Thomas and his wife had several children - Adeline, Godfrey, Cecil and Ormond who went to teach in Germany.  One of Thomas and Mary's sons and a grandson became mining engineers.  Thomas died on 22nd March 1903.

Kathleen attended boarding school in St Andrews, Fife  in 1891 and went on to study at Girton College, Cambridge in 1901.   From 1907 until 1925, Kathleen worked as private secretary to Edmund Lamb MP at his estate in Borden Wood, Essex, where she lived at 3 Garden Cottages, Borden Wood.   During that time Kathleen helped Edmund Lamb research his book ‘Some Annals of the Lambs: a Border Family’, which was published in 1926.  

Kathleen was a teacher for a time and worked for over 25 years with Father Andrew in Plaistow, East London.  She never married.   Kathleen's nephew Harold Burne was killed in Palestine on 3rd November 1917.

Kathleen died after an illness aged 80 on 10th June 1959 at the Hostel of God, Clapham Common, but her WIll states her usual residence was Lake Cottage, Bobbolds Farm, Milland, LIPHOOK, West Sussex.  

Kathleen's poetry collection "Poems by K.E.B. " includes several poems written during the First World War, one of which is this Chrstmas-themed poem:

Christmas Eve, 1916 (page 28)

The little lamp burns bright; the Babe

Lies in the manger there;

The mother bends above; her hands

Are clasped in praise and prayer;

Her tender face a-light with love

Looks down upon Him there.

This little Child was born, they say,

To save the world from sin.

So still and peaceful lies the scene-

How crept the evil in?

What madness swept across the earth

And plunged the world in sin?

The Shepherds kneel, simple souls,

Beneath the open sky

They learn to read the signs of God

And humbly drawing nigh

They worship here the Sign that flamed

From out the midnight sky.

The Wise Men from the East with gifts

In adoration dumb

Bend low. Stern searchers after truth,

But yet in faith they come:

Before the Mother and the Child

Their restless doubts are dumb.

The gentle large-eyed ox, the ass,

Stand gazing without fear;

The camels through the open door,

and small wild things draw near-

Where all is love and peace and joy,

What room is there for fear?

  

So sweet and peaceful is the scene-

Ah, whence crept evil in?-

Give peace, O God, to weary hearts

And cleanse our souls from sin !

Stretch forth Thine arms, all-loving God

And draw Thy children in !

Information and poem kindly supplied by Leslie Young and Andrew Burne

Marjorie Kane Smyth - Australian; VAD in WW1

Viv Newman kindly sent me the following information about Marjorie Kane Smyth: Marjorie was Australian - she lived in New South Wales.  Her father may have been a clergyman because she passed Junior examinations at the Clergy Daughters' School in 1904.   She was one of the earliest Australians to volunteer as a VAD during the First World War.  She arrived in Egypt on 12th October 1915.   92 Australian women served in this capacity.   Marjorie worked at No. 1 Australian General Hospital, 'Heliopolis Palace', a large complex which, according to the Hospital records, was in 'the land of the Pharaohs'.  It was a 750 bed hospital (increasing to 1,040 on arrival in France) from January 1915 to March 1916.  

In Egypt, the hospital cared for patients from Gallipoli and was then transferred to France.  Marjorie was attached to the Queen Alexandra's Imperial Military Nursing Service and served with the hospital until June 1917.  She was awarded the 1914-1915 Star, as well as the War and Victory Medals.  It is possible that she died in around 1935 as that is the last time she appears on the Electoral Roll.

With many thanks to Viv Newman for finding this information out for me.  Dominic Sheridan is currently researching Australian First World War Poetry.  Dominic has a Facebook Page where you will find lots more Australian WW1 poets - https://www.facebook.com/australianwarpoetry/?fref=ts

More information about the Nott Sisters

I have just received a wonderful e-mail with additional information about the Nott Sisters from Anthony Richards, to whom I am extremely grateful.  Anthony read Phil Dawes' contribution which I posted in February 2015 about the Nott sisters and has this to add from his personal knowledge :

"The article on the Nott sisters, Jane Protheroe, Martha Lucy & Mary was hugely informative with amazing research by Phil Dawes, but there are some extra details and clarifications which you might find useful.

The first clarification is that 'Felixstowe' is in Bristol. It was the name of the house in which the sisters started their school in Clifton.  Studying Street Directories I can see no mention of premises where the sisters could have set up a private school as early as 1893.The first house in which the school is mentioned is 6 Downside Road, acquired in 1900 from Will E Young J.P., and renamed 'Felixstowe'. In 1905/6 the school moved to larger premises, a full 40 yards away, at 1 Upper Belgrave Road. The house was named 'Tresilian' when they acquired it but it too was renamed 'Felixstowe'. When the school moved out in 1912/13 the house became known as Downs View, which it still is today (it looks out over the Clifton Downs). The third and final house was acquired and used from 1913 to 1930 and, you guessed it, renamed 'Felixstowe'. That was about 500 yards away in Clifton Down, next to what is now the Mansion House. The previous owner/occupier was Harry Beloe J.P. when it was known as 'Salcombe House'.

As you know, the school was taken over by the very successful Duncan House School and survived to 1967. The house in Clifton Down continues to be known to this day as 'Felixstowe', even in reference books, a small mark the Notts have left for posterity, although the context is entirely lost.

Your article mentions Jane's attendance at the Bristol School of Science and Arts and her prize, but there are also articles in the Bristol Mercury (24th July 1884 & 23rd March 1885) regarding further prizes. I intend to try to look these up. A very minor point: you talk of Marlu's education; the school in question is actually 'Redland High School' (no s on Redland), still a successful girls' school in Bristol today. Your article also mentions the sisters' parents moving  into the school with them when they were at 1 Upper Belgrave Road. They had been living close by at 51 Apsley Road before this, and this is the address the sisters moved back to when they retired in 1929/31."

Anthony has also sent some wonderful photographs, some of which I hope to be able to post shortly.

Thank you again to Anthony and to everyone who is helping with this commemorative project.