Diary of a Nursing Sister - 19th August 1914

Diary of a Nursing Sister

on the Western Front

1914-1915

Wednesday, August 19th.—We are having a lovely calm and sunny voyage—slowed down in the night for a fog. I had a berth by an open port-hole, and though rather cold with one blanket and a rug (dressing-gown in my trunk), enjoyed it very much—cold sea bath in the morning. We live on oatmeal biscuits and potted meat, with chocolate and tea and soup squares, some bread and butter sometimes, and cocoa at bed-time.

There is a routine by bugle-call on troopships, with a guard, police, and fatigues. The Tommies sleep on bales of forage in the after well-deck and all over the place. We have one end of the 1st class cabin forrard, and the officers have the 2nd class aft for sleeping and meals, but there is a sociable blend on deck all day. Two medical officers here were both in South Africa at No. 7 when I was (Captains in those days), and we have had great cracks on old times and all the people we knew. One is commanding a Field Ambulance and goes with the fighting line. There are 200 men for Field Ambulances on board. They don't carry Sisters, worse luck, only Padres.

We had an impromptu service on deck this afternoon; I played the hymns,—never been on a voyage yet without being let in for that. It was run by the three C. of E. Padres and the Wesleyan hand in hand: the latter has been in the Nile Expedition of '98 and all through South Africa. We had Mission Hymns roared by the Tommies, and then a C. of E. Padre gave a short address—quite good. The Wesleyan did an extempore prayer, rather well, and a very nice huge C. of E. man gave the Blessing. Now they are having a Tommies' concert—a talented boy at the piano.

At midday we passed a French cruiser, going the opposite way. They waved and yelled, and we waved and yelled. We are out of sight of English or French coast now. I believe we are to be in early to-morrow morning, and will have a long train journey probably, but nobody knows anything for certain except where we land—Havre.

It seems so long since we heard anything about the war, but it is only since yesterday morning. (The concert is rather distracting, and the wind is getting up—one of the Tommies has an angelic black puppy on his lap, with a red cross on its collar, and there is a black cat about.)

Diary of a Nursing Sister - 18th August 1914

 Diary of a Nursing Sister

on the Western Front

1914-1915

Tuesday, 8 p.m., August 18th.—Orders just gone round that there are to be no lights after dark, so I am hasting to write this.

We had a great send-off in Sackville Street in our motor-bus, and went on board about 2 p.m. From then till 7 we watched the embarkation going on, on our own ship and another. We have a lot of R.E. and R.F.A. and A.S.C., and a great many horses and pontoons and ambulance waggons: the horses were very difficult to embark, poor dears. It was an exciting scene all the time. I don't remember anything quite so thrilling as our start off from Ireland. All the 600 khaki men on board, and every one on every other ship, and all the crowds on the quay, and in boats and on lighthouses, waved and yelled. Then we and the officers and the men, severally, had the King's proclamation read out to us about doing our duty for our country, and God blessing us, and how the King is following our every movement.

We are now going to snatch up a very scratch supper and turn in, only rugs and blankets.

From A Motor Car 1908 - Bodiam Castle

 British Highways

and Byways
From a Motor Car

BEING A RECORD OF A FIVE THOUSAND MILE TOUR IN ENGLAND, WALES AND SCOTLAND

BY

Thos. D. Murph

 

We saw few more beautiful landscapes than those which stretched away under the soft glow of the English twilight from the upland road leading out of Rye. We did not have much leisure to contemplate the beauty of the scene, but such a constant succession of delightful vistas as we dashed along, together with the exhilaration of the fresh sea breeze, forms a pleasing recollection that will not be easily effaced. The twilight was beginning to fade away beneath the brilliancy of the full moon when we ran into the village of Bodiam, where stands one of the most perfect of the ancient castellated mansions to be found in the Kingdom. We paused a few minutes to view it from a distance and found ourselves directly in front of a neat-looking hotel—the Castle Inn. Its inviting appearance, our desire to see the castle more closely, and the fact that Tunbridge Wells was still a good many miles away over winding roads liberally sprinkled with steep hills, led us to make Bodiam our stopping place. There are few things that we have more reason for rejoicing over, for we saw the gray walls and towers of Bodiam Castle under the enchanting influence of a full, summer moon.

The castle was built in 1385 and appears to have been intended more as a palatial residence than a feudal fortress. Its position is not a strong one for defense, being situated on a level plain rather than upon a commanding eminence, as is usually the case with fortified castles. It was built after artillery had come into use, and the futility of erecting a structure that would stand against this new engine of destruction must have been obvious. The most remarkable feature is the wide moat which surrounds the castle. In fact, this gives it the appearance of standing on an island in the middle of a small lake. The water of the moat was nearly covered by water-lilies.

The walls of the castle are wonderfully complete, every tower and turret retaining its old-time battlements. It is supposed never to have sustained an attack by armed forces and its present condition is due to neglect and decay. From our point of view, it must have been an insanitary place, standing in the low-lying fens in the midst of a pool of stagnant water, but such reflection does not detract from its beauty. I have never seen a more romantic sight than this huge, quadrangular pile, with its array of battlements and towers rising abruptly out of the dark waters of the moat. And its whole aspect, as we beheld it—softened in outline by the mellow moonlight—made a picture that savored more of enchantment than reality.

Although the hour was late, the custodian admitted us to the ruins and we passed over a narrow bridge which crossed the moat. The pathway led through a door in the great gateway, over which still hangs suspended the iron port-cullis. Inside there was a grassy court, surrounded by the walls and ruined apartments of the castle. I ascended one of the main towers by a dilapidated stone stairway and was well repaid for the effort by the glorious moonlit prospect that stretched out before me.

When we returned to the Castle Inn, we found the landlady all attention and she spared no effort to contribute to our comfort. The little inn was cleanlier and better kept than many of the more pretentious ones. Bodiam is several miles from the railroad and but few tourists visit the castle. The principal business of the hotel is to cater to parties of English trippers who make the neighborhood a resort for fishing and hunting.

 

From a Motor Car in 1908 - Pevensey and Battle

 British Highways

and Byways
From a Motor Car

BEING A RECORD OF A FIVE THOUSAND MILE TOUR IN ENGLAND, WALES AND SCOTLAND

BY

Thos. D. Murph

We were now in a section of England rich in historic associations. We were nearing the spot where William the Conqueror landed and where the battle was fought which overthrew the Saxon dynasty—which an eminent authority declares to have done more to change the history of the Anglo-Saxon race than any other single event. From Lewes, over crooked, narrow and rather rough roads, we proceeded to Pevensey, where the Normans landed nearly a thousand years ago. It is one of the sleepy, unpretentious villages that dot the southern coast of England, but it has a history stretching far back of many of the more important cities of the Kingdom. It was a port of entry in early times and is known to have been in existence long before the Romans came to Britain. The Romans called it Anderida, and their city was situated on the site of the castle. Like other Sussex towns, Pevensey lost its position as a seaport owing to a remarkable natural movement of the coast line, which has been receding for centuries. When the Conqueror landed the sea came up to the castle walls, but now there is a stretch of four miles of meadowland between the coast and the town.

The castle, rude and ruinous, shows the work of many centuries, and was really a great fortress rather than a feudal residence. It has been in a state of decay for many hundreds of years, but its massive walls, though ivy-grown and crumbling, still show how strongly it was built. It is now the property of the Duke of Devonshire, who seeks to check further decay and opens it to the public without charge.

Battle, with its abbey, is a few miles from Pevensey. This abbey marks the site of the conflict between the Normans and the Saxons and was built by the Conqueror on the spot where Harold, the Saxon king, fell, slain by a Norman arrow. William had piously vowed that if he gained the victory he would commemorate it by building an abbey, and this was the origin of Battle Abbey. William took care, however, to see that it was filled with Norman monks, who were granted extraordinary privileges and treasure, mostly at the expense of the conquered Saxons. The abbey is one of the best preserved of the early monastic buildings in England, and is used as a private residence by the proprietor. The church is in ruins, but the great gateway, with its crenelated towers, and the main part of the monastic building are practically as they were when completed, shortly after the death of the Conqueror.

Battle Abbey, since the time of our visit, has passed into the possession of an American, who has taken up his residence there. This case is typical of not a few that came to our attention during our stay in England. Many of the historic places that have for generations been in the possession of members of the nobility have been sold to wealthy Americans or Englishmen who have made fortunes in business. These transactions are made possible by a law that permits entailed estates to be sold when the owner becomes embarrassed to such an extent that he can no longer maintain them. And some of these places are sold at astonishingly low figures—a fraction of their cost. It is another of the signs of the changing social conditions in the British Empire.

From A Motor Car 1908 - Brighton and Lewes

 British Highways

and Byways
From a Motor Car

BEING A RECORD OF A FIVE THOUSAND MILE TOUR IN ENGLAND, WALES AND SCOTLAND

BY

Thos. D. Murph

 

It was now early in August; the English twilights were becoming shorter, and for the third time it was necessary to light the gas-lamps. We did not reach the hotel in Brighton until after ten o'clock.

Brighton is probably the most noted seaside resort in England—a counterpart of our American Atlantic City. It is fifty miles south of London, within easy reach of the metropolis, and many London business men live here, making the trip every day. The town has a modern appearance, having been built within the past hundred years, and is more regularly laid out than the average English city. For two or three miles fronting the beach there is a row of hotels, some of them most palatial. The Grand, where we stopped, was one of the handsomest we saw in England. It has an excellent garage in connection and the large number of cars showed how important this branch of hotel-keeping had become. There is no motor trip more generally favored by Londoners than the run to Brighton, as a level and nearly straight road connects the two cities. There is nothing here to detain a tourist who is chiefly interested in historic England. About a hundred years ago the fine sunny beach was "discovered" and the fishing village of Brightholme was rapidly transformed into one of the best built and most modern of the resort towns in England. Its present population of over one hundred thousand places it at the head of the exclusive watering places, so far as size is concerned.

A little to the north of Brighton is Lewes, the county town of Sussex, rich in relics of antiquity. Its early history is rather vague, but it is known to have been an important place under the Saxon kings. William the Conqueror generously presented it to one of his followers, who fortified it and built the castle the ruins of which crown the hill overlooking the town. The keep affords a vantage point for a magnificent view, extending in every direction. I had seen a good many English landscapes from similar points of vantage, notably the castles of Ludlow, Richmond, Raglan, Chepstow and others, and it seemed strange that in such a small country there should be so many varying and distinctly dissimilar prospects, yet all of them pleasing and picturesque.

The country around Lewes is hilly and rather devoid of trees. It is broken in many places by chalk bluffs, and the chalky nature of the soil was noticeable in the whiteness of the network of country roads. Many old houses are still standing in the town and one of these is pointed out as the residence of Anne of Cleves, one of the numerous wives of Henry VIII. Near the town and plainly visible from the tower is the battlefield where in 1624 the Battle of Lewes was fought between Henry VII and the barons, led by Simon de Montfort. Lewes appears to be an old, staid and unprogressive town. No doubt all the spirit of progress in the vicinity has been absorbed by the city of Brighton, less than a dozen miles away. If there has been any material improvement in Lewes for the past hundred years, it is hardly apparent to the casual observer.

Cycling Dangers

 In the book R.B.D's Diary, October 2nd, 1900. Some lady cyclist's added considerably to the dangers of cycling by their attire.

"Ladies who persist in riding bicycles in long skirts must expect to get hurt. I saw a handsome Junoesque figure today dressed in laces and flounces, riding on a bicycle in Sloane Street. Her skirt became entangled and she came down with a crash. My tailor tells me that women flatly refuse to wear short skirts for fear of exposing their legs."

Lady Cyclists

 In their book "Motors and Motor Driving" from 1902 , S. F. Edge and Charles Jarrott look at the cyclists who, for a decade, had been monarchs of the road, but we're now a great nuisance.

"Lady cyclists are or used to be a great danger, for when a motor was heard approaching them from behind, they usually fell of their bicycles,  apparently in terror; but this distressing spectacle is now comparatively seldom seen."