Cost of war

Friday, November 13th., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.

Last Saturday Miss Nerney began her services at the hospital (Thorpe Hall). She was to work from 7.30 to 3.30 and from 7.30 to 6.30 alternate days. This was adhered to for two days but afterwards she was kept 'til 8 each night. She says there is no rest all day. Nevertheless there must be women in the village who could do this work in part. Every other week she has free. As the arrangement of 7.30 to 8.30 every day brought her work for me to a standstill. I gave notice that it would have to be altered. The Hall is owned by Major-General Byng who is I believe in Egypt at present. His wife Evelyn has placed the Hall at the disposal of the British Red Cross for use as an auxiliary hospital.

More wounded came at the beginning of this week, 14 English. There were already over 20 Belgians. When they arrived a large crowd assembled at the railway station to greet them. If these numbers reflect the picture elsewhere then this war is going to result in a lot of casualties. I haven't seen any figures yet for soldiers killed. It strikes me that warfare is now so heavily mechanised that all previous conflicts will be dwarfed by this one. And so much of the killing will take place at a distance. What will the psychological effect be on the soldiers?

Knowledge of soldiers: a grenadier at Thorpe Hall, wounded, told Alcock on Wednesday that the Germans had a gun with a range of 22 miles!

War news

Tuesday, November 10th., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.

Alcock came. He is the Chief Customs Officer of Newhaven and Tilbury. Once, having observed my style of walking, he referred to it as : "Bennett's quarter-deck manner." Nice phrase, and I wasn't at all put out, in fact, quite pleased. Today he told us a lot about transport work which is obviously going to change enormously now that we are at war. He said Newhaven port had a huge sealed envelope of orders to be executed on receipt of coded telegrams. When the first telegram came the orders proved to be dated 1911. This was rather good. The orders, as I heard them, seemed excellent.

We hear that the German cruiser Emden has finally been destroyed. She has done much damage in the East and has kept nearly the whole of Admiral Jerram's fleet in search of her. She was finally run down by HMS Sydney at Cocos Island yesterday.

Drama in Brittany

Friday, July 15th., in Brittany.

Fete yesterday. Alcock left at 5 p.m. in a most ancient wagonette, and we drove with him to the top of the village. Although there were three windows open in the wagonette it was hotter inside than outside - stuffy. Horse-collars of straw; harness chiefly of rope. In speaking of the horses Alcock again called them 'cat's meat'. In the morning we went sailing for one and a half hours - only 5 francs. We were carried into a small boat, and then rowed to the smack, which was in the charge of two men. 

After dinner I walked about a mile up the estuary of the Penze on the sands, and back, and then up to the village. Chinese lanterns, band, dancing, silhouette of large church, silhouettes of figures, Bengal fires, very noisy fireworks. Hotel very bright with lanterns. Parading about in adjacent lanes, the Parisians and other visitors, arms entwined sometimes, women in white wool loose jackets, as in Switzerland in winter. Moon through clouds. Not quite dark. I came home at 9.50 quite recovered, and read "Eugenie Grandet".

We were wakened up in the night by a very heavy thunderstorm. The thunder really was dramatic; quite as good as Drury Lane.

Additionally for July 15th., see 'Busy in Salzburg'

The scenery around is wonderful. There must be about a dozen 10,000 ft. mountains in the region. But we soon tired of this imposing, picturesque scenery. It is as if it was done on purpose - some tour de force of a creator. Sunday was a fete day here - the fete of the fire brigades. They came from all around including adjacent Germany. The cafe-restaurants were full of firemen, in poor ill-fitting uniforms, at lunch. Procession very long. Full of engines and ladders, and one very old engine, and banners and bands. One brigade was headed by a girl in white; at least she seemed to be a girl; but she might have been the wife of the huge, framed, glittering man who was walking by her side. The affair had a certain medieval or renaissance quality, but lacked both vitality and efficiency. After it we drove in a little victoria to see the castle (Lustschloss) at Hellbrun, a few miles off, along a monotonous road, chiefly quite straight. This castle has lovely gardens; but the 'practical joke' quality of the fountain-work (designed to soak the king's guests by surprise) and the childishness of the working, water-driven models in the garden, gave you a sinister insight into the mind of a foolish king.

In Brittany

Monday, July 11th., Brittany.

Yesterday was the first full day of my seaside holiday. It takes some time to get used to the great central fact that you have nothing to do that must be done.

It seems that the cures in Brittany forbid dancing, except at wedding feasts. Nevertheless in this village there is dancing in the shadow of the church every Sunday afternoon after vespers. We saw it yesterday afternoon. About 10 couples. The charcutiere danced with another girl. Heavy girls. One couple obviously in love. A drum and a brass instrument.

We cycled this morning to the ferry on the way to St. Pol. Beautiful country. There is only one road in and out of this village, and no turning out of it for 5 or 6 kilometres. This afternoon I was too idle to paint, so I did a pastel of the panorama towards St. Pol.


Of the three men here, one is a passementier, and another a commercial traveller, and the third a fabricant of something. They sit at a table and sing together. The luggage of one married pair arrived tonight, 36 hours late. The wife is of the odalisque sort, and she put on some more striking clothes at once. She lolls at her bedroom window for 30 to 60 minutes each morning. A beautiful young woman. Elle se cambre tout le temps. She would have made a good courtesane. Alcock says that she leaves a table at which an intellectual conversation is proceeding - about war or feminism for instance - with a gesture which says: "What has all this got to do with IT?"