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Tag: Rupert Brooke

Rupert Brooke

Rupert Chawner Brooke was born at Rugby on 3rd August 1887, the middle of the three sons of William and Mary Brooke. William Brooke was a Classics master at Rugby, where Rupert and this brothers Richard and William grew up under the watchful eye of their domineering mother.

Brooke was educated at Hillbrow Preparatory School, then at Rugby, where he showed himself to be gifted, both academically and on the sports field. This, coupled with his handsome features, made him a popular student. In 1906, Brooke won a scholarship to King’s College, Cambridge, where he read Classics and enjoyed an idyllic life of outings, picnics and boating on the Cam. At the same time, he embarked upon a series of unsuccessful love affairs and at the end of each, became almost suicidally depressed: a situation not helped by the death of his older brother Richard in 1907. During his final year at King’s Brook moved to the Old Vicarage at Grantchester in order to make a determined effort to put his problems behind him and focus on his studies.

In 1910, Brooke’s father died, so he stood in as temporary housemaster for one term, before beginning to work on a thesis on Webster and the Elizabethan dramatists, which would later earn him a fellowship at King’s. He also embarked on another doomed affair with Katharine Cox, the failure of which saw him leave England, bound for the Continent. In May 1912, while travelling, he wrote his most famous pre-war poem, The Old Vicarage, Grantchester, which evokes the archetypal image of Edwardian England.

Upon his return to England in late 1912, Brooke was introduced by Edward Marsh (a leading patron of the arts and private secretary to Winston Churchill) to many literary figures, including Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, with whom Brooke collaborated on the Georgian Anthology of poems.

In spring 1913, Brooke left England again, travelling to America and Canada, before proceeding to New Zealand and then Tahiti, where he fell in love with a beautiful Samoan girl named Taatamata. By the summer of 1914, Brooke was back in England and following the declaration of war, he gained a commission as a sub-lieutenant in the Royal Naval Division – with the assistance of Winston Churchil (then First Lord of the Admiralty). On October 4th, Brooke and his battalion, Anson, left for Antwerp to help stem the German advance through Belgium. This exercise proved a failure and the men joined the Belgian refugees fleeing the approaching German troops. By October 9th, Brooke was back in England and this would prove to be his only military experience of the war.

Brooke transferred to Hood battalion and at the end of November began working on the five sonnets that would make him famous. He completed them in early 1915 and send them to Wilfrid Wilson Gibson. On February 28th, Brooke boarded the Grantully Castle, bound for Gallipoli but, while en-route, at the beginning of April, he became unwell, developing a sore on his upper lip. Slowly his health seemed to improve and he received a letter from Edward Marsh telling him that his sonnet The Soldier had been read during a sermon at St Paul’s and subsequently published in The Times.

However, on April 20th, Brooke’s illness returned and by the following day he had deteriorated even further. After examination by several doctors it was agreed that the problem was an infected mosquito bite and despite all attempts to save him, Rupert Brooke died on the afternoon of 23rd April 1915. He was buried in an olive grove on the island of Skyros, where his grave still lies.

The blow to Brooke’s mother was compounded by the death of her only remaining son, William just nine weeks later on the Western Front, where he was serving as a Second Lieutenant with the London Regiment (Post Office Rifles).

In the aftermath of Brooke’s death, his friends sought to bring his poetry to the attention of the general public and volumes of his work sold in large numbers. Brooke had made Wilfrid Wilson Gibson a legatee of his literary estate (along with Walter de la Mare and Lascelles Abercrombie), thus ensuring that Gibson’s previous financial difficulties were a thing of the past.

Although Brooke’s poetry has sometimes been criticised for its lack of realism and its sentimentality, it should be born in mind that many poets were writing in a similar style at the time. Whether Brooke would have changed his tone had he gone on to experience the realities of trench warfare later in the war, remains an unanswerable question. However, we must credit him for capturing the very essence of his time, encapsulating the pride and patriotism then being displayed by so many of his generation.

Jessie Pope

It is, perhaps, ironic that Jessie Pope should share her date of birth (although not the year) with Wilfred Owen, who vilified her and her type in his poem Dulce et Decorum Est. Her reputation today mainly persists due to Wilfred Owen’s original dedication of that poem to her, and his criticism therein of her type of poet, who glorified war, regardless of the consequences.

Prior to the war, Pope had been a published poet and author and, in common with many others in that profession, turned her hand to writing propaganda poetry. Such verse was widely read at the time, in newspapers and magazines, becoming enormously popular with the general public in the early stages of the conflict. Once the realities of the war began to hit home, however, Pope (unlike many others) ceased writing jingoistic poetry and returned to penning childrens’ stories.

Today, Jessie Pope’s poetry is often studied in schools alongside the work of Wilfred Owen, simply because of that original dedication. She was not a particularly fine poet: indeed her own self-effacing sense of humour left her in no doubt as to her poetic talents. However, she remains one of the most studied female war poets of that generation, thanks almost entirely to Wilfred Owen.

It must be said that when Pope was writing her war poetry, many male war poets were almost as jingoistic and fervent as she was in their messages and content. John McCrae, Rupert Brooke and Julian Grenfell, for example, were among the soldier-poets who wrote of the glories of war during its early stages. It seems, therefore, unfair to criticise Jessie Pope for repeating similar sentiments to these great names: a more justified commentary would be that their poetry is, quite simply better than hers.

Another censure which could be aimed at Pope, as opposed to the soldier-poets of the time, is that she was asking others to fight on her behalf, or as Helen Hamilton put it in The Jingo Woman:

“Can’t you see it isn’t decent,
To flout and goad men into doing,
What is not asked of you.”

However in this aspect, Jessie Pope was not alone. Many non-combatants of both sexes, wrote in the same tone throughout the war, including such literary giants as Rudyard Kipling, Thomas Hardy and Henry Newbolt.

It is really quite unreasonable to judge Pope’s poetry against that of Wilfred Owen: they are poets of different times. Pope wrote no war poetry after 1916; Owen only really began writing in this genre in 1917. Indeed, when we examine how Owen himself was writing at the beginning of the conflict, we discover that in The Ballad of Purchase Money, written in the autumn of 1914, he had written:

“O meet it is and passing sweet
To live in peace with others,
But sweeter still and far more meet
To die in war for brothers.”

Not only does this poem resonate with some of his later Latin tags which he used in Dulce et Decorum Est, it also reflects Owen’s feelings at the time, which would naturally change with his experiences. It must also be said that, in common with some of Pope’s verses, this particular poem simply isn’t very good.

By 1917, Owen was perfectly entitled to feel angry towards those at home who continued to perpetuate “The Old Lie”. However it is just as well that he decided, or was persuaded, to amend and then delete his personal dedication to Jessie Pope, since he would have been criticising her for the content of poems written two years prior to him writing Dulce et Decorum Est and indeed these were views which he can be shown to have shared.

Pope’s poetry is certainly not the greatest of her genre, but she did not claim to be great, or particularly talented. Nonetheless, within the context of that brief period of time at the beginning of the war, her poetry was popular and does provide us with a window into a world which, from a 21st century perspective, seems difficult to understand and appreciate. We should not criticise her for her opinions when they were, quite obviously, shared by many of her contemporaries and we certainly should not judge her just because Wilfred Owen chose to vilify her, despite his own previously held, but all-too-easily forgotten opinions.

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson was born on 2nd October 1878 at Hexham in Northumberland, one of the nine children of John Pattison Gibson and his wife Elizabeth Judith (née Walton). Wilfrid Gibson’s father was a pharmacist by profession, but was also a part-time writer and historian and while his upbringing was by no means affluent, it was happy. Following a less than remarkable education, Gibson decided to become a professional poet, although his early works were rather unsuccessful and unrealistic studies of ancient legends. He found greater success when he turned his hand to writing about the plight of the poor, working classes. These poems were realistic and the style that he developed would form the basis for his war poetry, proving that a poet does not necessarily have to experience his subject in order to write about it convincingly.

As well as poetry, Gibson went on to write several plays between 1907 and 1912, at which point, he moved south to London, where Katherine Mansfield and John Middleton Murry, editors of the literary magazine, Rhythm, introduced him to other poets, such as Ezra Pound. More importantly, Gibson was also introduced to the patron of the arts, Edward Marsh and, through him, met Rupert Brooke with whom he became great friends.

Although Gibson’s poems were widely read, he was struggling financially, so Marsh helped him by paying him to assist with the editing of Rhythm, as well as publishing several of Gibson’s poems in his new anthology, Georgians. In November 1912, Gibson moved into the bedsit above Harold Monro’s Poetry Bookshop in Bloomsbury, enabling him to meet with even more literary figures, including Robert Frost. Before long, Gibson had also fallen in love, with Monro’s secretary, Geraldine Townshend and the couple were married on 9th December 1913 in Geraldine’s home town, Dublin.

They settled in the English countryside at Dymock in Gloucestershire and here, as well as being visited by Marsh and Brooke, the Gibsons also played host to Frost and his friend Edward Thomas. The “Dymock Group” was soon formed, holding regular meetings and launching a quarterly magazine entitled New Numbers, of which Gibson was the editor.

When the First World War was declared, the Dymock Group broke up, as Brooke enlisted and Frost returned to his native America. Gibson was rejected four times by the recruiting authorities, on account of his poor eyesight, but began writing war poetry, based on letters received from the front and newspaper accounts of battles.

In April 1915 came the dreadful news that Rupert Brooke was dead. Gibson was deeply affected by the death of his dear friend and, along with others, worked to have Brooke’s poetry recognised and praised. Brooke, in turn, made Gibson (together with Lascelles Abercrombie and Walter de la Mare) his literary legatee. This generous gesture ensured that, for Gibson, financial worries were a thing of the past.

In 1917, Gibson embarked on a popular poetry-reading tour of America, focusing on Brooke’s work and, when he returned, he successfully managed to enlist in the army. His poor eyesight meant he would never be sent to the front, but he worked initially as a driver with the Army Service Corps, before transferring to a job as a clerk to a medical officer. He never saw active service overseas and after his demobilisation in 1919 Gibson returned to private life. He and Geraldine had three children: Jocelyn, Michael and Audrey and he continued to write poetry until the 1950s. Gibson died on 26th May 1962, aged eighty-three.

Gibson’s war poetry represents the story of the ordinary soldier and displays his talent for capturing the essence of the working man. He writes so realistically that many critics and anthologists were – and are – convinced that he was a “soldier-poet” writing with first-hand experience of the front-line. Unlike many of the real “soldier-poets”, however, the war did not intrude into Gibson’s life in quite the same way: he did not have the same personal experiences of witnessing at first hand the death of a comrade, or having to kill a fellow human being. Yet the truth and realism shine through in his poetry, as though he had been there, with an authenticity that can be both breath-taking and heart-breaking.

Wilfred Wilson Gibson image: National Portrait Gallery (www.npg.org.uk).

Siegfried Sassoon

Born on 8th September 1886, Siegfried Loraine Sassoon was the second of three sons of Alfred and Theresa Sassoon. His parents separated when he was four years old, leaving his mother to raise her three sons alone. Nonetheless, Sassoon spent a happy and secure childhood and was educated at Marlborough before going on to Clare College, Cambridge, although he failed to obtain a degree. Back home in Kent, Sassoon lived the life of a country squire, as well as writing poetry, some of which was shown to the influential art collector, Edward Marsh, who quickly became friends with Sassoon, introducing him to several other literary celebrities, including Rupert Brooke.

Upon the outbreak of war, Sassoon immediately enlisted as a Trooper in the Sussex Yeomanry, but a bad fall while riding left him with a broken arm. When he had recovered from this injury, Sassoon transferred to the infantry and was commissioned into the Royal Welch Fusiliers in May 1915, leaving for France that November, following training.

Sassoon’s war soon became personal. He received news of the death of his brother Hamo in Gallipoli in November 1915, then in March 1916, his close friend Second Lieutenant David Thomas was shot and killed. The tone of Sassoon’s poetry changed from this moment on, as did his attitude to the war: he wanted to avenge these deaths, regardless of his own personal safety and his exploits earned him the nickname “Mad Jack”, as well as a Military Cross.

In mid-1916, Sassoon was sent back to England, suffering from trench fever, and didn’t return to the trenches until February 1917, where he participated in the First Battle of the Scarpe and was wounded in the shoulder. By the end of April, Sassoon was back in England again.

While convalescing from his wound, Sassoon became more and more embittered about he war and also fell under the influence of a group of pacifists, including John Middleton Murry and Bertrand Russell. The culmination of these events was Sassoon’s now famous Declaration against the validity of the war. Once knowledge of his Declaration became public, his friends, especially Marsh and Graves, tried to convince him that his aim of being court-martialled would never be permitted. Sassoon therefore, reluctantly, agreed to attend a medical board and, following evidence from Robert Graves, was declared as suffering from shell-shock. On 23rd July, he was admitted to Craiglockhart Military Hospital in Edinburgh, where he came under the care of Dr. William H. R. Rivers.

While at Craiglockhart, Sassoon wrote some of his most affecting and effective poetry. He also met Wilfred Owen (a fellow patient) and the two quickly became friends. Sassoon’s influence over Owen’s poetry is obvious, but Owen also idolised the older poet and war hero.

Under the influence of Rivers’s treatment, Sassoon came to realise that he could no longer tolerate remaining safely in Scotland while his men were suffering in France. On 26th November, he was declared fit for active service and left for Palestine in mid-February 1918, only returning to France in May. On 13th July, Sassoon was in No Man’s Land when he stood up and removed his helmet, whereupon he was shot in the head. He later discovered that it was one of his own men who had delivered the blow, believing him to be an advancing German. The wound was not fatal, but resulted in the end of the Sassoon’s war and he was placed on indefinite sick leave, eventually being discharged from the army in March 1919, with the rank of Captain.

Sassoon waited for several months to hear from Owen and it was quite some while before he heard of the younger poet’s death on 4th November 1918. Immediately after the war, Sassoon threw himself into literary work, meeting Thomas Hardy and T. E. Lawrence, among others, and becoming literary editor of the Daily Herald, in which position he was able to advance the career of Edmund Blunden, who became a lifelong friend.

In 1928, Sassoon began writing his autobiographies, initially as fictionalised accounts and then in non-fiction versions, as well as continuing to write poetry. During the 1920’s, Sassoon’s homosexuality became a more important part of his life and he embarked upon a few romantic liaisons, most notably with Stephen Tennant. Eventually, however, Sassoon tired of the fickle nature of these relationships and he married Hester Gatty in December 1933. They lived at Heytesbury House in Wiltshire and had one son, named George, in 1936. The marriage did not last, however, and the couple separated in 1945. In 1957 Sassoon converted to the Roman Catholic faith and he died on September 1st 1967.

Siegfried Sassoon’s war poetry is often – and unjustly – eclipsed by that of Wilfred Owen and yet Sassoon’s poems contain a brutal honesty that is lacking from almost every other poet in this genre. This, mingled with his humorous, ironic and occasionally lyrical style allows us to see the effects of the war: the anger, the waste, the bitterness; but underneath all of that, we can see the unutterable sadness of the “world’s worst wound” as Sassoon called the conflict, and a love for his fellow sufferers that few would succeed in conveying so beautifully or so honestly.

Brooke & Grenfell – Joined in the bright company of Heaven

These two young men both died in the first half of 1915, at the age of 27; both had written poems which are now widely studied; both came from fairly privileged backgrounds. However, today almost everyone has heard of Rupert Brooke, while Julian Grenfell’s name is relatively unfamiliar to most, unless they are actually studying his poetry. In this feature article, we examine the background and legacies of these two extinguished stars.

Rupert Brooke’s name has become synonymous with the eager, handsome young Englishmen, who bravely volunteered to fight – and if necessary die – to protect their beloved country. Those who have heard of Julian Grenfell tend to think of him as having been somewhat warmongering and pugnacious, the spoiled son of Lord and Lady Desborough. Both descriptions are, to some extent, accurate but they also mask very different stories, demonstrating that these two men actually had a great deal in common.

THE EARLY YEARS

Rupert Brooke

Rupert Chawner Brooke was born on 3rd August 1887 at Rugby, where his father, William, was a Classics master. He was the middle of the three sons of William and his wife Mary. Rupert’s older brother, Richard, (who died in 1907) was given the prophetic and patriotic middle name of ‘England’, while his younger brother was named William Alfred – both regal names. Rupert and Chawner were both names which were taken from his mother’s family – her grandfather having been named Rupert Chawner. Mary Brooke was a domineering woman, determined that her sons should do well, but equally intent on their happiness.

Rupert entered Rugby School in 1901 and was an immediate success, proving himself to be a hard-working and proficient student, as well as an excellent sportsman. This, coupled with his eye-catching mane of red-gold hair and classical good-looks, ensured his popularity.

In 1906, he won a scholarship to King’s College Cambridge where he had a thoroughly enjoyable time, boating on the Cam, having picnics and falling in love, which he did quite frequently. Needing, however, to focus on his degree, Brooke moved into The Old Vicarage at Grantchester, the atmosphere of which he would later capture in his most famous pre-war poem, of the same name. In 1910, Brooke’s father died suddenly, so he travelled back to Rugby and acted as temporary Housemaster for one term. This was followed by an unsuccessful love affair, the failure of which saw him leave the country to travel in France and Germany. He returned to London in December 1912, where he enlarged his circle of friends to include Arthur and Violet Asquith (children of the Prime Minister) and Edward Marsh, through whom he met Wilfrid Wilson Gibson and, later, Siegfried Sassoon.

In March 1913, following a nervous breakdown, Brooke left England again, this time travelling firstly to America and Canada, then New Zealand, before arriving in Tahiti, where he fell in love with a beautiful Samoan girl called Taatamata. He returned to England in June 1914 and when war was declared in August, Edward Marsh used his influence with Winston Churchill (who was then the First Lord of the Admiralty), to gain Brooke a commission in the Royal Naval Division.

julian_grenfell

Julian Henry Francis Grenfell was born on 30th March 1888 in London, although his family lived mainly at the Grenfell estate, Taplow Court in Buckinghamshire. He was the oldest child of William and Ethel Grenfell, who were both well known in their own circles. William was an MP, but was also a renowned sportsman and adventurer, who would later become chairman of the British Olympic Association and organiser of the 1908 London Olympics. Ethel, or Ettie, as she was universally known, was a society hostess, renowned for her beautiful and lavish parties. She also enjoyed a series of mild flirtations, which – as was the custom in those days – were tolerated by her husband. A second child, Gerald William (known as Billy) was born in March 1890, followed by a daughter Monica in 1893 and a third son, Ivo, in 1898. A second daughter, Alexandra (known as Imogen), completed the family in 1905.

Julian and Billy were close enough in age to soon become rivals and they fought quite often. Their education was initially begun at home, with a governess named Miss Poulson, then in 1898 Julian went away to Summerfields – a boarding school near Oxford, where he was joined two years later by Billy. Being away from home brought the two boys closer together and although they were both competitive, they argued much less. Julian was good at sports and art, while Billy was more academically gifted.

In 1901, Julian moved up to Eton, where he was a contemporary of Edward Horner (who would later become brother in law of the Prime Minister’s oldest son, Raymond), Ronald Knox (who later converted to Catholicism and became a noted author) and Patrick Shaw-Stewart (who would later become one of Ettie Grenfell’s admirers and then go on to serve with Rupert Brooke during the First World War). Again, Billy followed on and here, their competitive natures were even more apparent than before, enhanced by Ettie, who played one boy off against the other in her letters. It was at this stage that Julian first began to question his mother’s domineering role in his life and her constant need to involve him in her social activities, when he really preferred his own company, or that of just a few friends. In 1905, Willy Grenfell was raised to the peerage as 1st Baron Desborough.

In 1906, Julian went to Balliol College, Oxford, along with Horner, Knox and Shaw-Stewart. Here he tried to exert his independence, a task made somewhat easier by Ettie’s infatuation with her latest admirer, a man named Archie Gordon, who was only three years older than Julian.

In his last year at Oxford, Julian became frustrated by his mother and her social set to such an extent that he wrote a book in which he questioned the moral standards of English Society – in other words, he appeared to openly criticise his mother and her friends. This was not well received by his family, who ignored both him and his publication. Julian turned instead to love, in the form of Marjorie Manners (Lady Victoria Marjorie Manners), although his choice did not please Ettie who connived to place as many obstacles in their path as she could. This was, therefore, a very frustrating time for Julian, made worse by the death in a car crash, of Archie Gordon. All of this accumulated into a nervous breakdown, as a cure for which, Julian travelled to Italy to recover his health.

He returned to England in 1910 and had a brief affair with Pamela Lytton, to whom Ettie raised less objections, mainly because Pamela was married, which made this a ‘fling’ rather than a serious relationship. In any case, this liaison was cut short by Julian’s decision to join the army.

In the autumn of 1910, having completed his training, Julian embarked for India with the Royal Dragoons. This was an enjoyable time for him, as he spent his spare time riding, hunting and playing polo. Less favourable, however, was South Africa, where Julian was posted in late 1911. He began to contemplate leaving the army: he’d becoming interested in painting, but more seriously, he considered a career in politics.

THE WAR

When the First World War began in August 1914, most of the regular British Army who were stationed overseas, were recalled to England, including Julian’s regiment, who sailed from South Africa on 25th August, landing in England on 10th September. Billy, meanwhile had applied for a commission in the Rifle Brigade. Julian embarked for France on 6th October, where he went immediately to the Ypres Salient. There was little requirement for cavalry regiments, so Julian’s first taste of action, in the First Battle of Ypres, was with the infantry.

Julian Grenfell’s reputation as a ‘happy warrior’ stems from a letter which he wrote to his mother at this time, in which he said that he adored war and found it be ‘like a big picnic’. However, when read as a whole, the context of this statement is that he was enjoying the companionship and the freedom of fighting – such as the fact that no-one ever complained at him for being ‘dirty’, and the tone is reminiscent of the letters which he had written to his mother while he was at boarding school. At the same time, he also admitted that he found war ‘bloody’ and that the sight of refugees and wrecked villages was ‘miserable’ and ‘piteous’. Julian was certainly a most courageous officer – he was twice mentioned in dispatches and was awarded the Distinguished Service Order in November 1914.

The following month, he was back in England on leave and returned to the front in January 1915, having been offered – and declined – a safe ‘staff’ job, working for General Pulteney – a friend of his mother’s.

The War Memorial, Taplow Gardens
The War Memorial, Taplow Court Gardens, in memory of Julian and Gerald ‘Billy’

Spring of 1915 saw a renewal of offensives and on 22nd April the Germans made the first use of poison gas. Julian’s diary entry for 29th April notes: ‘Wrote poem – Into Battle’. On May 13th Julian was wounded when a shell exploded near to him and a splinter of metal was lodged in his skull. He was taken to a Casualty Clearing Station, from where he wrote to Ettie, saying that he was doing ‘splendidly’. He was then transferred to a hospital at Boulogne, near to where his sister Monica was nursing. She visited Julian and was able to send a telegram to her parents to allay their fears. However, an X-ray on the 16th showed that his wound was much more serious than had originally been assumed, and that an operation was required. Monica sent another telegram, urging her parents to travel to Boulogne, if possible. They used their influence and arranged to travel on an ammunition boat, which arrived at 5am on 17th May. Three days later, Billy also paid his brother a visit – his battalion had just arrived in France and he had been granted permission to visit Julian. His family kept a vigil at his bedside until May 26th, when Julian died. On the day that news of his death appeared in The Times, it was accompanied by the first ever publication of his poem, Into Battle.

Billy Grenfell was killed leading his men in a charge on 30th July 1915, less than one mile from where Julian had received his wound. His body was never found and he is listed among the missing on the memorial at the Menin Gate. Ivo, the third and only surviving son, was killed in a car accident in 1926, and thus the Desborough line died out, affording Willy the dubious honour of being ‘First and Last Baron Desborough’.

Rupert Brooke’s war was very different from that of Julian Grenfell. Sub-Lieutenant Brooke sailed for Antwerp on 4th October 1915. He was serving in a battalion named Anson (the Royal Naval Division named, rather than numbered, their battalions) and they were supposed to help stop the German army’s advance through Belgium. By the time they arrived, however, it was clear that this exercise had already failed, so Brooke found himself joining the Belgian refugees, who were fleeing the advancing German troops. By October 9th, he and his battalion were back in England.

Officers of Hood Battalion

In November, Brooke was transferred from Anson to Hood Battalion and was moved to Blandford Camp in Dorset, together with Arthur Asquith and Patrick Shaw-Stewart, who at that time was maintaining a regular and loving correspondence with Ettie Grenfell. It was around this time that Brooke started to write his 1914 Sonnets, which he completed in early 1915 and sent to his friend Wilfrid Wilson Gibson.

In early February, Brooke became ill and was nursed back to health at 10 Downing Street by Violet Asquith. Once fully recovered, he rejoined his battalion and in late February, set sail on the Grantully Castle, bound for Gallipoli. There were several stops during the journey, which afforded Brooke the opportunity to dine in Malta, enjoy a performance of Tosca and visit the Pyramids and the Sphynx.

At the beginning of April, while still on board the Grantully Castle, anchored at Skyros, Brooke complained of feeling unwell and had also developed a sore on his upper lip. He seemed to improve and received a letter from Edward Marsh, telling him that his sonnet The Soldier had been read out during a service at St Paul’s Cathedral.

On April 20th, the sore on Brooke’s lip was worse, he was once again unwell and had a very high temperature. By the following day his condition had deteriorated further and was now drifting in and out of consciousness. Medical officers and surgeons attributed his illness to an infected mosquito bite and despite their attempts to save him he died on the afternoon of 23rd April (appropriately, St George’s Day). He was buried in a hastily arranged funeral service, in an olive grove on the island of Skyros in the company of his friends including Patrick Shaw-Stewart and Arthur Asquith.

Brooke’s 1914 Sonnets sold in their thousands and ran to many, many editions, giving a secure financial future to his literary legatees, who included Wilfrid Wilson Gibson. In common with the Grenfells, there would be another blow to Brooke’s mother, Mary, when Rupert’s younger brother William, a Second Lieutenant in the London Regiment, was killed in action on 14th June 1915. As her eldest son Richard had already died in 1907, and her husband in 1910, Mary Brooke was now alone.

THE LEGACY

By the middle of 1915, both the Grenfells and Mary Brooke had suffered the tragic losses of two of their sons. Julian Grenfell was mourned by all who knew him as a ‘joyous’, ‘brave’ and ‘noble’ young man, of whom Winston Churchill privately wrote: ‘He was all… that our race needs to keep its honour fair and bright…’. Rupert Brooke was canonised, given the status of a Demi-God by many who wrote about him and Winston Churchill said of him, publicly in The Times, that ‘… he was all that one would wish England’s noblest sons to be…’. Given that their backgrounds were quite similar and their deaths so widely, greatly and similarly acknowledged, why are the perceptions of these two men so different today – both from each other and from the other soldier-poets who would follow in the later years of the war?

If one says to a group of people the words ‘If I should die, think only this of me…’, almost everyone will have heard them spoken, many may be able to recite the next line and some will know who wrote them. However, if one says ‘The naked earth is warm with Spring…’ people are likely to look quizzical and shrug their shoulders, unaware that this is the first line from Julian Grenfell’s Into Battle. Even when informed of this fact, they are wont to reply ‘Julian Who?’.

Much of this inequality in the legacies of these two poets stems from the immediate aftermath of their deaths. When Brooke died, his friends were quick and eager to bring his work to the public eye. His type of patriotic poetry was very popular at the time and this, coupled with the fact that Brooke had died on St George’s Day and his stunning good-looks, made the creation of a myth quite an easy task. Brooke suddenly achieved the status of a brave, almost God-like creature who had died defending and preserving the honour of his beloved England.

Grenfell’s immediate legacy, on the other hand, was entirely controlled and moulded by his mother, Ettie, who wrote a Family Journal in memory of Julian and Billy. In this, she ‘doctored’ letters and even made minor amendments to Julian’s poem Into Battle (none of which were improvements). To Ettie, Julian was primarily a soldier, not a poet. The army was the profession into which she had always intended he should go, so to her, he was really a soldier who wrote a few verses and painted a bit.

That said, in the eyes of both the critics of the day and the public, both men were thought of as heroes and their poetry was, generally speaking admired. T. Sturge Moore, in his 1920 appraisal of war poets entitled Some Soldier Poets, comments that Grenfell and Brooke stand together, and that he sees them ‘through their work, in attitudes that suggest statues more worthy of the acropolis of the supreme city than any of those which the public figures of these times have yet assumed.’ He goes on: ‘The ardent Grenfell leaps forward; Brooke with smiling grace escapes from the uncomfortable admiration of a bygone age – both bent on grasping by the hand their new best friend, Death.’ The only real difference between the two men would be that Brooke’s friends advanced and perpetuated his poetic legacy, while Ettie looked upon Julian’s as only a small part of the soldier who had once been her son.

Today, many students will research Brooke’s poems and compare them with those written much later in the conflict by Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon or Isaac Rosenberg: few will carry out the same task with Grenfell’s Into Battle. Perhaps this is because Brooke, with his God-like mythical status, still captures the imagination, while Grenfell’s less appealing upper-class professional soldier background holds less attraction. Brooke, for most people, typifies the young, loyal Englishmen who willingly answered his country’s call; Grenfell does not.

Others might argue that Brooke’s poetry is more appreciated today, simply because it is better than Grenfell’s. Well, Brookes’ sonnets are certainly shorter, but they are by no means superior and indeed they show signs of being quite repetitive. Brooke, it could also be said, is a little obsessed with sentiment and self-sacrifice – an argument first propounded in 1915 by Charles Hamilton Sorley. One could equally claim that in Into Battle Grenfell focuses too much on the glories of death in battle – seen by him as an ‘increase’ – and that the poem becomes a little lost and confused, which is not surprising, given that the original manuscript contains many changes, including some which Grenfell made to the order in which the verses should appear. The works of both poets contain flaws; they also contain moments of utter genius and beauty – a hint perhaps of what might have been.

Since their deaths, these two men have been eclipsed – to different degrees – by the over-idolised and seriously over-studied, Wilfred Owen, who appears at times to be the only war poet that many examining boards have ever heard of, and by the fact that their poetry and its subject declined in popularity as the decades passed. The myth of ‘lions led by donkeys’ which became popular in the 1960s meant that people did not want to believe that men had gone willingly to their deaths, but preferred to read the irony and bitter cynicism of poems by Owen and Sassoon, or the sad recollections of Blunden, even if for no better reason than that it fitted in with their image of the war. However, both Grenfell and Brooke, and their stories have a great deal to offer those who are studying, or take a genuine interest in this topic and neither they nor their poetry should be derided, simply because its content does not fit in with commonly-held misconceptions about the conflict. These two men offer us a glimpse of a forgotten time, when glory, honour and duty still mattered. Reading their biographies, one can see that they had a lot in common; not least of which was their acknowledgement that to fight in the Great War was their responsibility – even, one might say, their privilege, or their right. More importantly though, one can also see their dissatisfaction with their own pre-war lives and almost sense their relief that the war (as they perceived it) finally offered them a means of escape from the banality. They also show us that, for them at least, their generation was, to a certain extent, already ‘lost’, long before the carnage of the battlefields afforded them that hard-earned title.

Great Hall, Taplow Court. Image courtesy of George Redgrave
Great Hall, Taplow Court
Taplow Court. Image courtesy of George Redgrave
Taplow Court
Taplow Court. Image courtesy of George Redgrave
Taplow Court
Rugby School
Rugby School
Rugby School, c.1815
Rugby School, c.1815
King's College, c.1890
King’s College, Cambridge
Balliol College, Oxford
Balliol College, Oxford
The Old Vicarage, Grantchester
The Old Vicarage, Granchester
The Old Vicarage, Grantchester
The Old Vicarage, Granchester
Lord Desborough
Lord Desborough
Willie and Ettie Grenfell
“Willie and Ettie”
Ivo, Monica and William
Ivo, Monica and William
Ettie Grenfell
Ettie Grenfell
Ettie with Julian and Billy
Ettie Grenfell with Julian and Billy (i)
Ettie with Julian and Billy
Ettie Grenfell with Julian and Billy (ii)
The Grantully Castle off Salonika, 1915
Grandly Castle off Salonikang
The Grantully Castle
Grantully Castle
The Rupert Brooke statue
The Rupert Brooke statue
The Grave of Rupert Brooke on Skyros
Rupert Brooke’s gave on Skyros
Birch Green War Memorial
Birch Green War Memorial
War Memorial, Granchester

The Dardanelles

While a great deal of the action during the First World War took place on the Western Front, there were many among the Allies who sought to divert attention to somewhere else and it was generally agreed that the best place for this was to launch an offensive in the Dardanelles, against the Turks. This plan was proposed to the war cabinet by First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill and consisted initially of a series of naval attacks, which began on February 19th. Over the coming weeks, the British and French naval vessels bombarded the Dardanelles, but many ships were lost, particularly from mines and the offensive was soon abandoned.

It was decided, therefore, that a full ground attack was required and, on April 25th, this began with landings at Helles and Gaba Tepe (which became known as Anzac Cove). Although two beachheads were established and further landings were made, the Turks were well dug-in and prepared for defence. By the middle of 1915, little progress had been made, but there were many casualties both from battle wounds and due to various digestive disorders.

Steele's Post, 3rd May 1915
The campaign continued through the summer, but by the autumn, there was stalemate and it was decided that Allied Troops should be withdrawn. This exercise, which was probably the most successful part of the whole campaign, began on 7th December.

The Dardanelles campaign, or Gallipoli – as it has now become known – saw the first major combat of the war for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACs), who suffered huge losses, but showed themselves to be both brave and honourable men. Due to the failure of this campaign, Winston Churchill resigned from the government and went to the Western Front, where he served for several months.

Gallipoli Literary Links

Several of the war poets served in the Dardanelles Campaign, including Patrick Shaw-Stewart, Nowell Oxland, Geoffrey Dearmer and Alan P. Herbert. Rupert Brooke also sailed for Gallipoli on 28th February 1915 aboard the Grantully Castle. By the beginning of April, while still on board, he had become sick, having developed a sore on his upper lip. Although his health seemed to rally, by 20th April he was again complaining of feeling unwell and was transferred to a hospital ship, where surgeons and medical officers diagnosed the cause of the problem as an infected mosquito bite. Rupert Brooke died on the afternoon of 23rd April 1915, appropriately St George’s Day. In a hastily organised funeral on the nearby island of Skyros, he was buried in an olive grove in a simple ceremony attended by his friends, including Arthur Asquith and Patrick Shaw-Stewart.

Patrick Shaw-Stewart himself, like Brooke, served with the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, seeing action at Gallipoli, which he survived. A poet of great promise, he had attended Balliol College, Oxford with Julian Grenfell and showed every sign of a promising future, rising to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Shaw-Stewart was killed in action on 30th December 1917, having refused to go back to his own lines, despite the fact that his ear had been torn off by shrapnel shortly beforehand.

Nowell Oxland had been a childhood friend of fellow war poet William Noel Hodgson and both men had volunteered to serve in the early days of the conflict. Oxland served with the 6th Border Regiment and wrote a poem entitled “Outward Bound” in which he expresses his prophetic regret that he will not return from overseas to see his beloved Cumberland again. This proved sadly true as Oxland was killed at Suvla Bay on 9th August 1915.

Geoffrey Dearmer became one of the longest surviving war poets, living until August 1996, by which time he was 103 years old. During the First World War, Dearmer served with the Royal Fusiliers and the Royal Army Service Corps, seeing action in Gallipoli and on the Western Front. Both his mother and his younger brother, Christopher died during the conflict, the former while nursing and the latter at Gallipoli on 6th October 1915. The son of a clergyman, Dearmer went on to work for the BBC for twenty years and, despite his experiences in the First World War, retained his faith, never becoming embittered.

Alan P. Herbert saw action in Gallipoli serving like Brooke and Shaw-Stewart, in the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve. He had volunteered on 5th September 1914, sailing for the Dardanelles the following May. By this time, his youngest brother, Owen had already been killed on 27th October 1914. Herbert was invalided home in August 1915, only to find that his father had died in his absence. He also saw action on the Western Front, where he was wounded, only returning to his unit just before the Armistice. After the war, he joined the staff of Punch Magazine and stood, successfully, as an MP in 1935. During the Second World War, Herbert served as a Petty Officer in the Royal Naval Auxiliary Patrol and his wife, Gwen (whom he had married in 1914, just before he went to war) was an ambulance driver. He died in 1971, appropriately on November 11th, still haunted by the friendships he had made and lost on the battlefields of the First World War.