OUR LITERARY CORNER. ORIGINAL AND SELECTED MATTER. NOTES ON BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

Press, Volume LI, Issue 15339, 24 July 1915, Page 7

OUR LITERARY CORNER. ORIGINAL AND SELECTED MATTER. NOTES ON BOOKS AND AUTHORS.

THE SACRIFICES OF I THE WAR.

« (From the London "Spectator/) At the beginning of the war it was proposed by a group of well-known Englishwomen that mourning should not bo worn for those killed in battle. The motivo was excellent —the spirit of the Roman mother who did not count lost a life given for the State. But tho propriety of this minor symbolism has been swallowed up and forgotten in tho reality of a civic valour at home which has become so conspicuous that it needs no deliberate professions. AYe must all have been astonished at the calmness and tho beautiful resolution present in thousands of families which, without condemnation, might hare appeared to tlio world shattered, and for the tipie being demobilised from effort. AYe have ill of us seen fathers who have lost •ons, wives and mothers who have lost husbands or eons, men who have lost brothers, going quietly and nntheatrically about their business, even redoubling whatever service they render to the nation, nnd anxious only to send another son, another brother, because, though Death crouches at the door, they cannot do otherwise. If any man or woman has said that this is too much to '-»_k—that a dishonourable peaco is better than countless blasted homes —wo have not heard of him or her. Bitter though the sacrifices be, thero is no questioning anywhere of the necessity of making them. Freedom, our country, self-respect, are to ho saved, and no weight of human lives, however precious, can tilt the scale against that burden of indispensable possessions which have to be protected by.death. Even wives who havo lost their husbands, suffering that ultimate catastrophe with which no other bereavement and domestic derangement can compare, go straight on with what . they are doing. They keep in touch with the regiment which honours the rcoord of tho dead, and serve it as though.it could still yield the response and tho longed-for tokens of affection which, once camo from a single person within it. It is fighting for tho cause for which he fought, and it is enough.' Tho,intense simplicity.of all this devotion—for it is devotion in an unfamiliar, bnt unmistakable form —proves both its strength and its sincerity. Wo publish in this issue some moving memorial lines written by a brother on a brother which go no further in the final tranquillity of surrender than thousandgo daily in their thoughts about their <?ead.. It is a paradox, but in a considerable sense it is true, that it is harder for men and women at homo to lose their own than it is for soldiers to die. Here ©very one feels far away from action—helpless. Thero is no more strangling, suspense and no more acute torture than that of the onlooker who cannot raise a finger to intervene. The man at the front is busy and preoccupied; his activity crowds out the thoughts that distract and unnerve. Those who wero in tho Army-in South Africa during : the "Black Week" still cannot appreciate the reality of the misery, and dismay at homo when reverse was piled upon reverse. They were present at the defeats ; they took tho measure of them; they wore braced by the thought that it wa s theirs to redeem misfortune— no feeling of helplessness for them; they wer_ conscious of their youth and strength, and of tho fact that timo was on their side. If they were not exactly jolly, thoy were humorously placid; tney played football while waiting for reinforcements, and never heard of any such'thing as a "Black Week.'till they learned the phrase from the newspapers. That, is the advantage which, soldiers have over their friends at home. Their occupation in battlo brings them an entirely new standard of emotions. Its operation is universal in armies, and - H is a merciful dispensation. The sensitive soldier is surprised that tho loss of friends at his side should not affect him more than it does. He flogs his feelings to ascertain whether they aro really less responsive than before to pity and horror. He asks himself whether ho has become callous. - But, of course, he has not. His nerves are .tautened to an unknown power cf eh- , dtirance—endurance of the spirit and endurance of the body. If is good and right that his capacity for suffering should be-conditioned by the great fact of war. And in this war the mind of the soldier has become more composed than ever before. As tho need for the sacrifice of himself is moro instant, so is his resolve to have a heart for any fate deeper and calmer. In somo wars he expected to come out unscathed unless he had bad luck. In this war he does not, and cannot count on the good luck that will bring him through. The agony of speculation is put away from him. It is settled in his .' mind that what must be must bo. Countless letters from officers and men at the front prove the composure with which the worst is expected and accepted in advance. There is no more adding up and subtracting of probabilities; the cost is all ready and once lor all counted; it will bo' paid and not thought excessive. AYe read iv tho "Manchester Guardian" details of- the manner of one officer's death which was a type of thousands. "The widow also received from a Canadian soldier, who had evidently reached tho trench after the supporthad passed on, the dead man's watch and money and signet ring and pocketbook, and a littlo religious 'Book of Days' which he carried folded down on the pago of tbe day when his life had stopped. Ho had written a letter the night before to a fellow-officer saving that he was in for 'a big boost' at dawn. He had seen the plans and liked them, but ho did not think that any of the officers would come through. He snded: 'But what is death, anyway ?' *' Compare with this the notorious and morbid horror of death which afflicted even such a philosopher as Dr. John son. Boswell once related to Johnson that Humo had said that ho was no more uneasy to think that he should J not be after his life than that lie had Tiut been before lie began to exist; and he also related that Foote when very ill had said that he was not afraid to • die. AA'hereupon Johnson exclaimed: "It is not true, Sir. Hold a pistol to Foote's breast, o r to Hume's breast, aud threaten to kill them, and you'U see how they behave." Boswell persisted in 6pite of Johnson's dislike of the subject, and asked whether men might not fortify their minds for tho approach of death. Then Johnson in a passion replied: "No.. Sir. let it alone." Still Boswell persisted, and Johnson was so greatly provoked that he said: "Give us no more oi this," showed an impatience that the faithful Boswell should •leave him. and when Boswell did leavo - "tailed after him sternly •/"Don't let us _aeet to-morrow." On another occasion - tft-iason, on being asked whether the

fear of doath was natural to men, answered: "So much so, Sir, that the wiiole of Hie is but keeping away the thoughts of it." Different indeed is tho temper of the soldier at the trout! He hates that death should "bandage his eyes and bid him creep past." He asks, rather, that ho may "bear the whole of it, fare like his peere, the heroes of old." He feels with Bacon. "He that dies in an earnest pursuit -s like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the timo, scarce feels the hurt;- and therefore a mind fixed and bent on somewhat that is good doth avert tho dolours of doath." ' Somo of the best poems which have . beon inspired by the war were, written i by soldiers who let their minds hover about the thought of death, and found [ that the "Arch-Fear" (in Browning's ; phrase) had ceased to be a ghastly spectre, but had a friendly face and shin- . ing raiment, and was the comrade and > understander of youth. In that spirit , Rupert Brooke wrote tho fine sonnet which described the kind of spiritual ! extra-territoriality which would belong ; to a soldier buried in a foreign land. t. His grave would be a piece of Eng- • land. We find tho same thing again in the remarkably beautiful lines which were written by the late Captain Julian " Grcnfell and were published in "The ' Times" last Saturday. Deep feeling 1 and art —something of the art of Chau- , cerian simplicity—are joined in these lines. Like Brooke, Julian Grenfell did j not make death seem pretematurally giorions by contrasting it with hollow -" life and cruel Nature. He saw life full } of companionship and Nature full of !. smiles and beauty. But these things r supnorted and taught him. He wrote: — ,'.'•- ---f Th» fighting man shn.ll from the eun Take warmth, and life from tho glowing earth; • > Speed with tho licrht-foot winds to run, And with the trees to newer birth; And find, when fighting shall be done, > • Great rest, and fulncas after dearth. The woodland tree* that etand together, They stand to him each one a friend: > They gently speak in the windy weather; They guide to valley and ridges' end. The ke_ti_3 hovering by day, ; And the little owls that call by night, Bid him be swift and keen aa t-ey, ' A« keen of oar, as -ywjft of sight. AYe are grateful for such a message as * that from youth to youth. It is the ' answer which Matthew Arnold found > to mental torment in tho sights of a i radiant night at sea: — t From tho intenee, clear, etar-sown. vault of heaven, , Over the lit sea's unquiet way, '• In tho rustling night-air caxoe the aaswer— "AFould'at them' be as these are? Liv© as they." - - But. after all, the most devouring war in the.history of man will leave more 1 than half of our soldiers untouched. ■ Thousands are on duties which do not , take them into the trenches; and the [ Vast majority of those who are in the trenches will not be killed. Nearly all those who are wounded will not die. That is a fact for consolation. But an ■ equally notable and glorious fact is ■ that the soldier's mind is composed for i anything, and that his calmness - is , matched by the passive valour of those nearest him at home. He and they are 1 fortunate in the "belief that Nunc ' Dimittis is a sweet canticle "when a 1 man hath obtained worthy ends and •, ex-rectations." , God bless and keer> tho noble hearts in the trenches, and God be thanked ' for the noblo hearts at home!