“ALIEN’S” LETTER FROM ENGLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3197, 23 June 1915, Page 69

“ALIEN’S” LETTER FROM ENGLAND.

April 28.

Oh! to be in England 'Now that April’s there, gang Browning long ago, and every English alien from home to whom the words are familiar —and the woods —have echoed the words since then. And yet, perhaps, to enjoy a perlect April clay perfectly one must have spent tne long and dreary winter in England, also known all the ache for sunshine under the leaden skies, for, as a matter of fact, the perlect days of April are few. Days of still, mild air, as well as bright skies and sunshine, come but seldom. Usually the winds are biting, and showers of sleet, as during this month, are not unseldom. But a perfect April day is unsurpassed: the carpets of primroses and violets are unrolled, the golden daffodils dance in the sunlight, and buttercups and daisies open wide eyes of surprise at a,world so sweet, for the almond blossoms, the cherries, and the apple are a wonder of pink and white, and a thousand tints of dainty greens and browns are making fairy embroideries on the dark branches of the ever-wondrous trees, amid which the birds are building and singing from the dawn.

Since the falling of last year’s leaves and the renewal of this spring, more than half the world has been engaged in destruction, and the other half absorbed in watching the struggle or aiding its progress ; and one wonders what, before these budding leaves shall have fallen again in England, will be the fate of the country. Usually at this time of the year the streets and parks are as gay as Natiire, but the war has had a very marked effect upon the appearance of the crowds. Crowds there always are—that is inevitable in London ; the mere passing to and fro of the people about their ordinary business crowds the conveyances and the streets as nowhere else in the world; but now they are drab crowds without the gaiety of past springs. On the spring racecourses the military in khaki were almost equally as numerous as those in plain clothes, and will be everywhere till the war is over; for a multitude of soldiers must remain at home in case of the invasion, for the Germans, it is said, are about to make another desperate try. Facile observers are frequently giving expression to surprise that life in England, especially in London, is so little changed. It is true that the fains and the cars run, that the theatres and churches and shops are open, and that many millions of people are about their daily business ; but to all but the superficial observers the change is patent not only to the eye, but the mental atmosphere has changed. To compare the changes in London with the changes in Paris is foolish. England is not invaded, and the duties and tasks of England are not those, at present, of an invaded territory ; but her big task is to go out and meet the foe and to uphold the hands and the honour of the stricken Allies. This England has done with all her might. With all her might, too, she is giving new great armies and preparing them, receiving and nursing the wounded, feeding the fatherless and widow’s, and housing the refugee. When invasion of England comes, if come it does, the conditions of an invaded country will impose themselves —shattered cities and blasted countryside, dishonoured women and murdered children. Meanwhile, W’e meet the raids and the bombardments as they come, and the social and domestic problems as they arise, to the best of England’s ability and insular character —accomplishing more in the end than was promised at the beginning. Also, meanwhile, it would be a suicidal policy, to close the theatres and all places of amusement. It would throw a million or so of workers in special professions and lines of work out of employment and into poverty, and compel another burden upon the State and cripple a large class in charitable activities, for no class of the community is more generous in the giving of their talents than are the professionals. Also, a certain amount of relaxation is necessary for the public well-being. The stage is at this hour of strain as illuminating and as inspiring to a large community, as is the 'pulpit to another large community, and in the open, over the grass, and under the trees toilers of a vast city find themselves called to freedom and the universal. To shutter every window and extinguish every light and forbid the song and dance wou'd avail England nothing; rather would it rob it of inspiration, and damp enthmiasm. Half the w’orld is taught in allegory—the parables of Scripture have never lost their hold on the imagination—- “ Behold, a sow’er goes forth to sow,” and von see him. and anplv the lesson. The theatre and the picture-palace visualise the paramount ethics-, emotions, and patriotisms of the day. When the war broke out. and men were hastily called to arms, London was breathless tinder the shock, or had no breath except for a shout of enthusiasm, or for farewells. Society was divided into sections, for the dinlomatic world is interwoven through London society—in fact, through the whole society of the kingdom. The recall of Ambassadors, the stagnation of finance, the lull of Court functions, the whole disturbance of the economic and social world threw a thousand activities out of gear. England was at war. England was unprepared. That was the ono -naramnupt. thought of the pnfpmp. But, as the months went on, while the powers that are worked out the great. Schemes behind locked doors, the press took up the rally-call. “Business as usual.” What England expected was that every man and woman should do their, duty. “Business as usual” was duly the command. But the business never has been as usual. The whole business activities

(Specially Written for the Ladiea’ Page.)

THE SPRING OF 1915

have been readjusted, directed into new or special channels. When the dosed theatres reopened it was not to the old problem—sex plays, —but to the patriotic note of the hour. The audiences have been won back by the parable of honour and of conflict. And so, too, in the picture palaces —valour, right triumphant, and soldiers. The same text is preached in the churches of all denominations — j “Fight the good fight.” ) The Bishop of London, out there in the | trenches (on the firing-line holding services and Administering communion in huts and barns', with shrapnel bursting overhead, lived his Easter right into the heart of the men. He comes back with the right to fell men that duty is the highest Christianity. “Fight the good fight’’ is the text of the nation to-day. The Bishop of Birmingham, delivering a speech on Tower Hill on St. George's Hay, used the allegory of St. George’s fight with the dragon as representing Britain’s fight against a brute Power. You may choose whatever recreation you will, whatever relief according to temperament, but the theme is one and all the same. Theatre, music-hall, pic-ture-palace, church, a quiet walk in a park, a motor omnibus ride into the outer spaces, the one theme is war—the fighting the good fight. To this one purpose—the freedom of the Empire—all our energies are clii’ccted—not with ■ loud or hysterical affirmations. Our self-restrained temperament forbids that. But the whole face of England has changed. Khaki is the colour of the men and the thought of the women. It has not been an easy thing for hundreds of thousands of peacebred civilians to come forward from their accustomed thought and way; it has been born and bred in generations of Britons our proud belief in our invincibility—that we rule the waves. And that we may not rule, except for a great struggle, has awakened the Empire’s slumbering fighting spirit. And spirit is not of sex. It is impossible this spring of 1915 in London to enter any train or bus or go to any park or heath or open space, or walk in a broad street in which there is not a company on the march, or where the khaki men are not. The recruiting campaign of the past week has brought many fresh men to the ranks. A number of the wives of high-ranked officers drive their motor cars or ride beside their husbands at the head of the regiment on route marches. Mr Asquith believes that there will be no need for conscription, but that willing men will come forward, as many as are wanted, and that Kitchener’s call for “men, and still more men” will find a quick response. The publication of the details of the battle, far from acting as a check, rouse enthusiasm of recruits the more. The whole Empire has thrilled this week at the glorious achievement of the Canadians and their splendid recapture of the guns, hr spite of the deadly fumes of the poisonous gases the Germans used to overpower them, and of which, the doctors report, some of them died. This is not war, but murder. In this third tremendous effort of Germany to reach Calais and the Channel, our relentless foe, who has shown no scruple from the first, will not hesitate to kill by any means within its power. How proud Canada mint be of the King’s message of congratulation on the valour of its men ! Among the wounded soldiers who arrived In England yesterday are many Canadians. Speaking of the asphyxiating shells with which the Germans are “fighting” (?), one of the Canadians said: “They found their eyes commencing to water from what they- at first thought was the ordinary smoke of the shells. But the pain, grew worse and worse till it became almost unbearable, until they were not able to see, and it was as though they were blind.” An honourable and truly brave nation would scorn to take victories such as these! To-dav there has been another call on the work of women. The appeal for quick work was issued by the War Office to make a certain type of respirator to cover mouth and nostrils of bleached, absorbent cotton wool, with a band of cotton elastic to fasten it round the head. These are to be sent to the troops at the front, who have now to defend themselves against asphyxiating gases as well as against shells. Although the appeal to women is only a few hours’ old, hundreds of thousands of willing hands are already at work —as they would like to be at the guns ! How long is England going to fight the war in kid gloves? is being asked, and what reprisals are to be made for the treatment of the prisoners? And. whatcan we do about the 39 British officers who have been spitefully arrested in Germany and oast into gaol like common malefactors, into filthy cells and given Impure water and food uneatable under j warders’ brutal even for Prussia, and punished for the fact that England has imprisoned 39 pirates of the sea? But these murderers of the sea are better fed and clothed and lodged than British prisoners of equal rank in Germany, And | our men are innocent of crime. Day by day as the bill of costs comes ! in for this glorious defence of our Empire . how gladly should we pay anything that | can bo paid in money and in labour and sacrifice of pleasure 1 We who do not have to bear the horrors of the actual fight can do so much for those who do. There are now 47.000 women warWorVf*vs, in paata! t?- woninri nr a qtipp/-!. I ing themselves and their money on the : war. Three Queens were at the matinee yesterday at Drury Lane—Queen Mary. Queen Alexandra., and Queen Amelie of i Portugal. The result was £4OOO for the American Women’s War Hospital. I In the ordinary course Princess Mary was to have “come out” this spring, i Her eighteenth birthday was on Sunday

last, which was very quietly kept. But for the war there would have been a Court this week for her “presentation,” and probably a State ball among other festivities.