Thursday                                                                                           D.B.Bearman

 13/11/19                                                                                          F. W. V. R. Cttee

                                                                                                   A.P.O.   S.5      B.E.F.      

                                                                                                                    France

 

Dear Père,

          I received your last letter enclosing Orion matters, thanks – (on Monday morning)

I am now at Grange-le-Compte, by Clermont en Argonne (a Quaker HQ, near Rarécourt in the Verdun sector, 130 miles east of Paris) for a few days, sleeping in Charles Owen’s room and generally seeing the mission. I am writing in the common room, where there is a fire & can look through windows in both back & front upon white country, hills and forest, white with snow. It is only just after 9 am. So I have a spell of quiet while everyone is at work. Later when David Gourlay returns, I shall be going into some accounting queries.

           I finished my last letter to you Sunday. I expect you will have received it by now. It was rather longer than usual,

           Sunday morning I went to the Russian Church just off the Place de Ternes, where the Bde. Wagram crosses the Rue Faubourg St Honoré & quite near the Étoile. Arriving soon after 10 am. I found the service did not start until 11 am.: so I returned to the Étoile & finding that my uniform allowed me free admission, I climbed up to the top of the Arc de Triumph. The view there is fine. The Étoile below you like a veritable ? star or rather star fish. The breeze too coming up from the Bois de Boulogne was fresh & country flavoured.

          The Russian church is a lofty dome with beautiful coloured windows & fine Byzantine arches below: but no nave – just the small floor space under the dome & under the arches. There are chairs, but the worshippers stand through the whole service, except when they kneel – many of the more devout with their foreheads touching the stones, and the chairs are merely used to lean upon & to lean umbrellas against etc. A finely worked grating partitions the central flooring from the altar alcove opposite the door & before this grating are little shrines – painted & framed figures - & before these again stands for the candles, to the number of which newcomers are continually adding, and each one who lights a candle usually not only crosses him or herself, but stoops and kisses the hem of the robe, or the feet of the figure.

               I turned to the right as I entered & sat in the south alcove. On the curved wall of this alcove is a huge oil painting, one of the finest & most striking I have ever set eyes upon. It portrays Christ speaking from a boat just off the shore of a lake, to a multitude spread over the beach. So striking & so realistic was it that I could not help wondering what it was he had to say, what the spell was in his gospel that held the common people. I described the painting & the suggestion at the Quaker meeting in the evening & suggested that it was not his preaching that really counted, but rather the joyful assurance & fullness & greatness of his personality – rather the beauty of his personality, which had ‘grown’, than the truth of his thought which had been worked out. Was not this the great difference between the Kingdom of Heaven & the Righteousness of the Prophets.                   On the wall of the north alcove opposite was another huge painting of Christ walking on the water. The floor was quite crowded by the end of the service: many of the people seemed to be of the ci-devant uppermost tenth & probably aristo. fugitives from the great northland. Furs were very much in evidence on the women and young girls. (ci-devant, comes from the French, meaning "from before" and technically applied to members of the French nobility of the ancien régime (pre-Revolutionary French society) after it had lost its titles and privileges during the French Revolution)

Sunday evening two French girls from the YWCA came to dinner: also Miss Fletcher was there.

Monday evening we had an Équipe meeting at the Brittannique.

Tuesday morning I caught the 11.45 train - Edward West & I. We did not reach Clermont station until between 9 & 10 pm. We had to change at Chalons & wait nearly three hours in all – from 2 to 5 pm. It is here that the Chalons Maternité Hospital is, which was founded & run by the Mission & is now given over to the French – or at least to an independant committee. Now I was anxious to see this en route, so having spotted Mlle Merle, - the French lady in charge – on our train, I went & accosted her just before reaching Chalons, when of course she said there would be time for me to drive out there with her in the Mission car & see the place. So another chap (Cawl) & I were driven there and back from the station, had tea and were shown through the maternity and children’s wards by none other than Miss Pye. This is one of the chief ladies in our mission & was, I think, the only lady to receive the Legion of Honour decoration from the French government. By the way I was surprised to find that this is the lady actually who darned my glove some weeks ago. Mrs Noel Buxton was another lady present at the same time.        We saw two wards full of mothers – French of course, with many young babies & some just beginning to get interesting. One baby gave me a primitive little smile, which Miss Pye declared to be the first one vouchsafed to a stranger in her little life. Then we went to no. 19 which is a miniature Hospital filled with babies, some of whom are growing up. Many of these are deserted by their mothers. 

           The chauffeur of the car is an English girl from Shoreditch – very good company.

Charles having helped me make up a bed in his room, I got to bed before 12. Pm.

            I forgot to say that West & I, walking from Clermont to Grange, climbed Clermont Hill and looked in at the Building Equipe there, where some half dozen young American boys were gathered round a huge grate with a fire of logs. This hill is very abrupt & an interesting feature in the landscape for miles round.

            ‘Grange’ is a great farm house, with a row of brick barns & sleeping rooms on either side of the approach. There are on an average 72 (seventy two) members of the mossion living here, besides French helps. Some German prisoners come in to help during the day.

           Wednesday I went round with Charles in the ‘Dodge’ car – the ‘shopping car’ as it is called. I sat next the driver Jay – an American boy. We went to St. Menehould (pronounced Menould), a market town, to buy goods & thence to Les Islettes, Neuvilly, Aubréville, Dombasle, Brabant & Clermont. We of course passd through other villages but we stopped at our Équipes at these. We had luch at Aubréville & tea at Clermont & arrived home soon after 5 pm. The whole tour some 75 kilos. 

            It was great fun stopping at St Menehould & the people were very fresh. While Charles was in the Butchers I climbed the steps to the church on the hill & went inside. The Lady’s chapel opposite the entrance was one huge rockery with a figure of Mary on high & written over her head ‘Je suis l’immaculée Conception’ This town was not bombarded during the war.

          At Les Islettes I saw Miss Flickinger for a few minutes.

We then climbed the Argonne ridge through the forest, where the scenery was splendid & under the trees could be seen dug out after dug out. The road though the forest was one long avenue of white, the deep green fir trees painted with white & the tall Beech trees mounting above all, with their rich brown autumn leaves tipped with white. Even the car was painted white with snow & we had continually to wipe the snow from the glass wind screen. But about this time the snow stopped & we were able to catch some fine rolling forest-clad distances in which the white & black were toned with faint purples. I had a sweater & two coats on & yet got cold at times until after lunch. 

           At Neuvilly Miss Allen (English) & Miss Jones (American) looked very cosy.

At Aubréville we stayed for lunch, but found only two French cooks & a Russian prisoner. But the old cook was splendid – one of the finest French characters I have met. She gave us a fine lunch & made us feel quite at home. The Russian prisoner – quite a boy – talked to us also, in a mixture of French and English.

             At Dombasle I managed to secure an interview with Miss Ross (English), Miss Hinby (USA) & A.R.Tatnall (USA & chef d’Equipe) on business. But I thought them less hospitable at this Équipe.

             At Brabant Miss Ducane was out but we left her provisions with the cook.

At Clermont Miss Ferguson gave us tea & I had an interesting interview in French with Mlle Brunot over certain accounts she keeps. Clermont is now the centre of all the Embroidery Industry run by the Mission.

       (I am now writing Saturday morning – still again in the same place & it is just 9 am.)

The same eveing (Wednesday) after dinner & after doing some business with David Gourlay & starting a discussion, Francis Birrell ? happened to look into the office, whereupon I casually remarked that here we had the chef de critique. He paused, sucking his pipe & a general discussion was imminent when West who was writing a letter protested. So Francis invited us all to his little room – David Gourlay, Charles Owen & I & afterwards West – and we had a very charming discussion on ‘Shakespeare’, ‘on living from the Soul’ & on French politics & dispersed at 11 pm., one hour after lights out.

          Thursday I started this letter & then walked over to Clermont to lunch.

After lunch I went up to the Embroidery rooms re. some accounts & saw two elderly ladies, Miss Allen and Miss Baker. Then entered a young lady, Miss Russell, I had met at Grange – now on her way to the train for Paris, whence she was going to England & later home to America – very American - medium height, & with luminous dark brown eyes full of vitality. I asked her to help me choose a sample of Embroidery to buy for Mère as a souvenir. The result was a 5.00 fr. Coloured doiley. Gathering that she had a big bag I offered to carry it, saying that I only had to climb the hill that afternoon. This at once took her imagination & she suggested our trying to get to the top & back in the half an hour remaining, as she had never been up.

         We set out over the snow. At her suggestion we tried a quick cut up the face of the hill. Then came an exciting climb, as neither of us know what it is to turn back. I had to negotiate the slope ahead, then hanging on to a tree or root with one hand, pull her up by the hand by with the other hand. It was snowing & my hands were freezing for a time & the twigs were shedding their burdens of snow down my neck: but the true American spirit of ‘doing’ something took us through, & we reached the magnificent Cedar Grove on the summit with more animal spirits than ever. 

         We descended the other side, called for the bag, went the wrong way to the station & just arrived in time for the train.

         She was wearing little tiny shoes like dancing shoes: but on my expressing concern for her interminable journey with wet feet she enlightened me to the fact that she had some kind of rubber galoshes fitting inside these shoes protecting her from the wet we had paddled through – more than even my big boots did for me.

         The snow having ceased I again climbed the hill, only pausing at the Building Équipe re. some queries. // It is a wonderful cedar grove, like a great whitened Cathedral ving ceased I again climbed the hill, only pausing at the s fitting inside these shoes protecting her from tin the snow. At the further & west end is the Chapelle St. Anne, ruined by the war. Beyond this is an orchard, from which one obtains a simply grand view of the forested slopes of the Argonne & the valley of Les Islettes – grander than ever perhaps with the white veil of snow over its autumn tints, & all in the early evening quiet. In the orchard I noticed particularly two apple trees loaded with rosy apples – red on top shading to yellow beneath - & each apple capped with pure white snow! Truly a charming winter sight! (Fruit can be had for the picking in these parts)

          I returned & faced the Grove several times in the quiet, cap in hand, & meditated on things in general. It was here according to Miss Russell that a mission wedding was held not long since. What a cathedral for a wedding.

           I investigated some dug-outs & look-outs and tunnels & then redescended.

Miss Shrimpton, a nurse at the Clermont Hospital had offered to show me over some/same? So I called in there on my way back to Grange. She showed me over & told me some of its story. It belonged to the high Catholic Order of St. Vincent de Paul, was largely destroyed by the Germans during a brief occupation of Clermont in 1914, when the little chapel – where the red light is still burning mysteriously before the altar & where Miss Shrimpton now comes for quiet – was used as a prison for French coloured captives, and the best part of it has since been repaired by the mission, mainly with the aid of German prisoners. Upstairs there are about six massive carved oak wardrobes which simply rejoin one’s heart to contemplate. 

      Friday I went another round in the shopping car – the white car this time, which is both larger & faster but has no wind screen! I wore two overcoats besides a sweater & gloves and goggles & the day was clear until the evening, but still to say it was cold at times would be very mild. But I was contented and enjoyed it all immensely – about a hundred kilo. Run, reaching home after six pm.

      We went as before to St Menehould to shop, then struck out north-east through into the hear of the Argonne forest again towards Florent & Le Claon – through a magnificent wild valley with a little lake in its midst, just like the pictures of Scotch Glens, snow & autumn leaves everywhere – thence down a winding road into the great broad valley of La Chalade – thence to the left past La Chalade & Fort four de Paris – up and up till we passed Fille Mort on our distant right, & the whole valley became catacombed with dug-outs. The Argonne here begins to open out into great desolate moors. Ahead of us loomed the great shaved head of Vauquois, where the whole top of the hill, village & all was mined & shelled until no vestige of building or tree remains.

 

Vauquois

 We here turned rather to the left. Everything was whiter up here & the air keener & I began to freeze. But soon after passing near the Kron Prince’s dug-out, we made our first stop at Varennes Équipe – our largest next to Grange with a membership of 50 mission people & 40 German prisoners.

          Here we had lunch. Mrs D’Olier & Roy Calvert were very hospitable. But after lunch I fell into the hands of one of the most charming American girls I have met, Dorothy Brown, rather tall, womanly, with rich laughing brown eyes. After sitting by the stove & talking for nearly half an hour, she showed me round the Équipe – Relief Shop – Hostel for Refugees – mission Hospital, etc. : I am afraid you will think me veritably one of the unconverted & my letters inspired more by the girls than by the work of the mission. But some of these people are a recreation in themselves & after prison & my earlier solitudes, I drink deeply of such recreation. But I would add that the chief work of the mission at these Équipes is building Swiss wooden houses for returning refugees, agricultural aid, & co-operative store shops.

           The remains of the old Varennes is analogous to Stone Henge. The bridge across the river, down in the valley beyond ?, where we subsequently crossed, is where Louis XVl & Marie Antoinette were caught on their celebrated effort to escape into Germany.

           Thence we climbed again on to the desolate & yet again desolated moors, nearing the Verdun area over the top of Hill 304 itself & by Mosthomme Hill, everywhere ploughed up by shells & onto our Cheppy Équipe where I divided some chocolate among some refugee children while Charles was leaving food for the Équipe. to the desolate & yet again desolated moors, accrossrison & my earlier solitudes, I drink  Thence we went by poorer roads, close past whole streets of & villages of dug-outs & over other hills to Véry. Here nothing remains of the church & part of the cemetry has simple crumbled away down the hill. I spoke for some time with the Équipe cook – an old French woman who remained at Véry through the German occupation in 1915 & who remembers the fine church & the village as it used to be.

         Thence we went to Monfauson where Miss Johnson (American) is Chef d’Équipe. She has a genius for hospitality & has arranged succesful parties for a French officer and his family & two German prisoners who happen to be professional musicians. Considering that these Germans had first practically to remake the piano & that the violin strings were telegraph wires & chemical thread & that the living room is little bigger than a cupboard, she has achieved wonders. She gave us tea, & she & I went into some queries on the aps.?

          Thence we set out for Avocourt passing through the Verdun area where the forests look like Hop fields in spring – bare sticks. 

 

At Avocourt we found only the cook (French) at home. I amused myself trying the piano & playing ’Jaunita’ (a Spanish ballad?) 

             It was nearly dark when we left here & beginning to drizzle again with snow. Joy lit the lamp & put the machine on the fourth & top gear for the first time that day, & we entered upon a couple of hours wierd riding compared with with a refrigerator must be mild. The snow & occasional falling leaves hurt my cheeks like glass paper – at the speed at which we were going - & the draft came up the legs of my trousers & hit my shins.

            At Clermont I had a short talk over the fére with Mlle Brunot again & we reached Grange in time for dinner.

             That night after getting through my work with David Gourlay I went to a rendez-vous with Charles in one of the chaps rooms & found one of the maids, Lucy – originally of quite a well- to-do farming family – with them giving us practice in French conversation.

             This morning I am finishing the account - & it is now midi & lunch time.

 

                Yours affectionately

                           Donald B Bearma

British Journal of Nursing. June 12, 1920

CONFERREDB Y THE PRESIDENOFT T HE FRENCH

ORDER OF THE LEGIONO F HONOUR.

Oficer.-Dudley Holden Illingworth, Esq., Directeur’

Gbnbral Comitb Britannique Croix Rouge Frangaise.

ChevaZier.-Herbert Brown, Esq. ; Philip Aveling

Wilkins, Esq. ; Harold Fraser Simson, Esq. ; Angus

Faulkner, Esq. ; Percy Collins, Esq. ; Walter Harold

Cobb, Esq.: David Baird Smith, Esq.; Robert

John Smith, Esq. (Comiti: Britannique Croix Rouge

Frangaise). Miss Edith Mary Pye, Directress of the

English Lying-in Hospital of the Society of Friends at

Chalons