Settings:A Soldier-Poet: Edward Thomas enlists and trains.
Artists' Rifles HQ, 17 Duke Street, Euston: The recruiting office was in Albemarle Street.
An extract:
'He travelled up to
London by train and walked fast to Albemarle Street, hunting for a brass
nameplate – ‘The Artists’ Rifles.’ A printed poster was pinned to a sandwich
board on the pavement, announcing ‘Recruiting Office.’ The regimental symbol
printed at the head showed Mars and Minerva intertwined. He looked up at the
sky for a moment, then turned, breathed deeply and walked through the open
door.
He was attested fit by
the Medical Officer the following day. He
had passed the first test that he’d set himself.' (A Conscious Englishman.) *
On the day he 'passed the doctor' he completed the important poem below, For These. Edward describes it as 'a prayer'.
'All
I can tell is, it seemed to me that either I had never loved England, or I had
loved it foolishly, aesthetically. Something, I thought, had to be done before
I could look composedly again at English landscape, at the elms and poplars
about the houses, at the purple-headed wood-betony with two pairs of leaves on
a stiff stem, who stood sentinel among the grasses or bracken by hedge-side or
woods-edge. at he stood sentinel for I did not know, any more than what I had
to do.’ E.T.
'On his last day he saw some recruits,
lean pale young men in their dark clothes and caps, with occasionally the
tanned face of a farm worker among them. Why had they enlisted – because of the
posters, urging them to fight for King and country? Under pressure from
employers? From girl-friends? Or to follow their friends?
He had a sense that a man joined up for
inexplicable reasons, making a leap beyond rational thought. Then afterwards he
would explain himself to his parents and friends in the old conventional terms
about fighting for king and country – but surely that was simply too poetical
and too self-conscious to be real? (A.C.E)'
Then he was sent to Hare Hall Camp, near Romford , Essex, where he was to stay for a year and a half.
From Liverpool Street
station the train took him east through gentle, orderly countryside to Romford
and on to Gidea Park halt. November trees were black and bare against the
horizon.
Hare Hall camp was
built in the grounds of a Georgian mansion. Tall elms and horse-chestnuts at
the entrance, instead of the barren wire he expected, declared its past as a
country estate. There were guard boxes certainly, but a pretty
eighteenth-century lodge too. Planted all over the gracious parkland between
some great oaks were new white bell tents. A line of wooden barrack huts stood
at the centre of the camp.
'His first impression of a great house and park soon faded as he was drawn into the changed life of Hare Hall. Exercises, parades, routines, the new way of passing time. Much of his life was spent in lecture huts, the canteen, the reading room and the mess. Hut Number 3, a sound wooden hut sleeping twenty-five men, was home. The park became a site for compass exercises, and the great Georgian house was the remote home of the most senior officers, of whom he was in awe.' (A.C.E)
The Poem: For These
Edna Longley sees irony in the poem. I wouldn't want to quarrel with Edna Longley, goodness knows, but I think I'd call it realism.
For These
An acre of land between the shore and the hills,
Upon a ledge that shows my kingdoms three,
The lovely visible earth and sky and sea
Where what the curlew needs not, the farmer tills:
A house that shall love me as I love it,
Well-hedged, and honoured by a few ash trees
That linnets, greenfinches, and goldfinches
Shall often visit and make love in and flit:
A garden I need never go beyond,
Broken but neat, whose sunflowers every one
Are fit to be the sign of the Rising Sun:
A spring, a brook's bend, or at least a pond:
For these I ask not, but, neither too late
Nor yet too early, for what men call content,
And also that something may be sent
To be contented with, I ask of Fate.
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A Conscious Englishman
7th February, Publication Day: It began with a friendly message from Frank hoping I'd enjoy the day, 'just one step on a long journey.' Then a reminder to read and sign the contract and to meet shortly to plan a launch party. He writes in his blog, justthoughtsandstuff, about Thomas and about publishing the novel.
I thank him and StreetBooks very warmly for so much help, guidance and efficiency.
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