No 4564 5^th Leicesters Hut A3

Dukes Hill Convalescent Camp, Woldingham, Surrey.

Sept 6^th 016

Dear Rev Walters,

            I thank you very much for your kind letter, & for the sentiments expressed therein; you really do not know how you cheered me, & I can assure you that it is a pleasure for me to be able to write to you.

            A great many thoughts have passed through my mind, & I have endeavoured to group them together under the title of “Life in Tragedy” & thus I present them to you.

            Tragedy has a twofold application.  It allows of a comparison.  On the one hand we see a rising up from death & gloom to light & life, but on the other hand, it is possible for a gross darkness to encompass one’s life, which is never removed, simply because some people hate a struggle, or in other words:- “They love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil”.  The word Tragedy is a very strong, expressive noun, implying that something unusual & trying is being borne by one or more of the Sons of Humanity.

Tragedy is more than sorrow.  Sorrow moves the heart, but tragedy moves both heart & soul.  It moves the very man.  But in all the sorrows of life, there is a counterpart.

“In every sorrow that rends the heart

The man of sorrows bears a part

No one is left alone to fight one’s battles, unless one refuses the proffered aid.

Thus to my mind.  As a wing is to a bird, so is sorrow to tragedy.  Why should people sorrow?  “Ills have no weight.  And tears no bitterness.”  There must be an underlying factor working in & through the soul of man, & should one sorrow, then there is revealed to us by outward sign, the struggle that rages fiercest within.  Sorrow does not reveal the depths of woe, no reveal to human eyes the anguish of a broken heart, & bruised soul.  There is always something tragic in human weakness.  But I assert that there is “Life in Tragedy”.  Dead men never weep.  A broken life can always be mended, & the soul can be attuned to the chords of the Divine Symphony of Heaven.

Sorrow seems to pave the path to forgiveness, – it generally reveals a large soul, a great heart.  But what about the impulse of Divine love?  The greatest tragedy in the world’s history centres around divine love.  It allows of no comparison.  Human eyes have witnessed many scenes of horror & bloodshed, but never to compare to the scene of Calvary.  It reveals to us a tragedy of rejection.  God gave all He had in giving Jesus to take away tragedy from life, but nations & men, Kings & priests, yelled their war-cry of horror & hatred, “Crucify Him, Crucify Him”.

The true & eternal worth of Divine love was seen on Calvary.  There was life in That Tragedy, & there was death in That Tragedy too.  The son of man died & was buried, but the Risen Christ ascended up to Heaven, & revealed to an astonished world the everlasting promise of the Father “That Jesus should save the people from their sins.”

But on the other hand – There were those who hailed Christ to Calvary, & who no doubt afterwards themselves witnessed the Tragedy of a lost soul.

They killed the Prince of Life, & embraced the Prince of death.

“Man of sorrows, what a name

For the Son of man who came,

Ruined sinners to reclaim

Hallelujah, what a Saviour”

The tragedy of Calvary is being re-enacted today.  Just think of the War for civilization & freedom, & we see a repetition of what has taken place.

Our lads are fighting today.  Many are dying.  But when we come to think of the incomparable valor of those who die fighting for freedom, it turns the tragedy of death into victory for life.  I think Robert Bridges finely put it when he says “Britons have ever fought well for their country, & their country’s cause in the high cause of freedom & honor.  We can therefore be happy in our sorrows, happy even in the death of our beloved who fall in the fight, for they die nobly as heroes & saints die, with hearts & hands unstained by hatred or wrong.  The crowning effort of one’s life is not seen in his living, but in his death.  It is indeed a tragedy for so many young men to be shot & torn by shell & bullet; but the blessing is greater that the tragedy when we realise that such sacrifice is keeping our own doorstep from being stained with the blood of our loved ones.

Guyigot sent to Princess Lieven a message of condolence on the death of her two sons, & this is what he said:- “When cruel memories beset you, when you are sorrowed only by visions of the dead, make an effort, put forth your strength, come out of the tomb.  They have quitted it, they are not there.  To us it is not given, it is not permitted to see clearly from one shore to the other.  If we could see clearly, if they were before our eyes calling to us, waiting for us, could we endure to remain where we are so long as God ordains?

What a message of hope.  How consoling.  Death is never loss when it is swallowed up in victory.

The French Revolution was really a political tragedy.  At first it seemed doomed to failure, it was an example of savage ferocity, & entailed terrible suffering & bloodshed besides removing a Dynasty that had a world-wide reputation & honor.  Napoleon the III was no mean King, & his wife was a brilliant woman, & the successful attempt to remove the Royal Court of France from among the Courts of Europe was indeed a tragedy, hath it not have been a tragedy it would have been accomplished without bloodshed.  But was the outcome of this tragedy?  Had it any life in it? Certainly!

The revolution inspired the soul a grey-haired man named Du Rogue as he watched the revolutionists marching past his house.  To him it was an inspiring sight to see so many men march in order, but thought he “They would march better with a song.  For some distance he marched with them & then returned to his home, & with the tramp, tramp, tramp of the marching in his ears, he sat down at his Piano & burst forth into a Military march to which were afterwards applied the words that inspired the revolutionists with a new hope & a greater courage; & as they went forth into battle they carried with them an indescribable spirit as they sang “March on, March on, Ye Valiant souls to Victory or death”.

They sang the “Marseilles” in the midst of tumult; they lisped it in death & in the hour of victory they re-echoed its strains along the hills & valleys of France, until Plowman & Peasant, Soldier & Civilian, bond & free, all united in singing the song of liberty & freedom.  Many songs have moved men, but the noble “Marseilles” moved a nation, yea it has moved the world; & today our boys sing it as they go forth into battle.  This pathos is ever present, & is borne in the souls of those who are fighting for liberty & freedom.

Surely there is life in Tragedy, France lives, & the man who gave France the “Marseilles” has given to Her an imperishable heritage.  An anthem of the people.

Without the tragedy there would never have been the &          the world would have been much the poorer.

The life of the Jew in Russia was tragic in the extreme for many, many years.  He suffered oppression, was denied the Civil Liberties of the state, & he lived in perpetual fear.

Was not that one of the reasons of the Diplomatic coldness between England & Russia?  The Jews appealed to us, but we almost listened in silence to their pleadings.  It was indeed a tragedy for one to read of their treatment, it moved one to tears as they told us of their sorrows & hardships.  But what of today?  Out of darkness has come light, out of chaos, order; & the people who were once neglected & despised are now enjoying civil liberty & freedom.  Their continual pleading has found a place in the heart of the Czar of Russia & the Jew today is hailed by the Russian as a com-patriot, a brother.

War alters many things, & if its only result is to liberate the Jews, then the battle was worth fighting, & this war has become a necessity.

There is always an unseen force working for ones good, & in the case of the Jews, one was working for them; & their old-time treatment, once a tragedy, is now an honor.

The American Civil War was an example of short-sightedness which seemed to be doomed to failure, but after-events proved that the Civil War has been a blessing.  It cemented the separate states of America into one vast kingdom that today occupies a foremost place among the nations of the earth.

Two Generals met in an orchard at Appomattox one a defeated & careworn general; the other a victorious & elated general.  There they stand facing each other.  General Grant salutes General Lee; General Lee returns the salute & says:-“Sir I will never fight against the old flag again.”  Two foes became friends, two sectors of the community settle all their petty differences & America receives a baptism of light.

One can place a great value on War.  It is the healer of narrow-mindedness; & generally a remover of bigotry.  Today we find men with large minds & great souls; men who were once puny & weak, are now strong & vigorous; & those who were once conscious of their own greatness, are now conscious of the greatness of others.

Before the War there was the veritable Dandy, who enjoyed the immensely popular name of “The Knut”.  He wore a gold ring a great & glittering tie, fancy colored socks, & generally a swagger cane, & who looked upon others as his inferiors.  But what a change has come over such men today.  They are really all in the trenches, sharing their last “fag” & sandwich with a less fortunate comrade.

At first, it was almost a tragedy to remove the “Knut” from our midst, but in his place we see a man, a comrade, one who has the welfare of the Empire at heart.  The following is a crude, & yet beautiful verse from an unlearned soldier.  This is what he says, & I think it illustrates my point.

“We grumbles about the grub, boys,

And we grumbles about the work,

We grumbles about every bloomin’ thing

But why is it we never shirk?

It aint for a bob a day we work

And it’s not for our Fags we fight

It’s just for the blooming gray home in the west,

And dear old Blighty’s rights.”

There is one other tragedy of which I must write & that is:- the Tragedy of the “Conscious Objector”  what a pitiable object.  Poor Soul!  It is really a pity we cannot place one of them in the British Museum, because they are so rare & valuable & would no doubt prove of educational value to future generations.

I am here reminded of one of these “Freaks of Humanity”, who, when in Civil life, used to faint at the sight of blood.  Somehow or other he was persuaded to join the army & go out to France & in France, he took the second Bayonet in a charge against the Germans.  Everybody who knew him was expecting him to collapse, but no, the sight of a dead German at the point of his bayonet en-nerved him, & he longed for more of the excitement of battle, & now instead of being a conscientious objector, he is a conscious man & a soldier & believes that the safety of the Empire is of more consequence than his own narrow bigotry.  National Union is sought along paths upon which human blood has been shed.  There are dangers in war, but a greater danger is to become a peace crank.  Christ, the Prince of Peace said:- “I have not come to bring peace on the earth, but division”  There are blood stains upon our national altars, & there are bloodstains upon the Altar of the World, Calvary.

Death has paved the way to life.

A Chaplain asked a soldier in France what he thought he would do or where he would go if he was in battle.  “Well,” said the soldier “If I came back safe, all well & good” but if not, then I should go straight on.”

Tennyson has finely put it when he says:-

“Thank Him who isled us here, & roughly set

His Britain in blown seas & storming showers

We have a voice with which to pay the debt

Of boundless love & reverence & regret

To those great men who fought & left it ours.”

Just one story of France, Dear Rev Walters, & then I close my letter.

In a field hospital behind the firing line at Neuve Chappelle, lay a wounded soldier, wounded beyond recovery.  During his last hours of agony & pain he was ministered to by the Chaplain the Rev Watson; & during the Chaplain’s ministry to the boy, the boy quoted some of the loveliest poetry in the English tongue.  It was inspiring & beautiful.  This is what the dying soldier said:- “The curtains falling, the light burns low

But, with God’s help, I’m ready now to go

I’ve seen life’s melodrama, paid the price

Have know its loves & losses hopes & fears

The laughter & tears

And now, God know I wouldn’t see it twice.

I’ve crossed life’s stormy ocean, faced its blinding foam

But now Heaven  whispers I’m nearing home

But what though a storm-tossed hull I reach the shore

A thing of tattered sails & broken spars

I soon shall be at rest for evermore.

For if again I have to pass these waters through

I know the kingdom I am sailing to

What boats it where I lie – beneath the trench

Or down the dark, impenetrable deep

Where way worn seamen sleep

All gates are good through which we pass to God.

In Remain

Yours very Sincerely

J.W. Brotherhood

I am now well, & hope to be home in a very short time.

S.P. Excuse mistakes in such a long letter.  There are a few that I know to.

In envelope addressed to Rev T.W. Walters M.A., Vicar of Whitwick, Whitwick, Leicester-shire.

Letter postmarked CHEAM VALLEY S.O. SURREY   7 SP 16.