War Artist and Poet

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Yesterday morning the Queen’s birthday parade assumed especial significance. The Duke of Edinburgh turned ninety-five the day before and it was Her Majesty’s official 90th birthday. The crowds in the Mall were larger than usual. The parade was broadcast by the BBC and their programme included an interview with Captain Alexander Ritchie, Coldstream Guards, whose regiment was trooping their Colour.

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He was filmed at the Somme where his great, great uncle fought a century ago. He spoke, movingly, about the bravery displayed by his relative and indeed all the military who in those days faced dangers unimaginable to a soldier today. His ancestor was Gerald (Jack) Caldwell Siordet. The family were Huguenots who came to England in the 18th century.  Jack, born in 1885, went to Clifton and Balliol. He enlisted in the ranks at the beginning of the war and was promoted in the field to be an officer. He was awarded the Military Cross for his courage at the Somme. Alexander explained that when his uncle was ordered to go over the top of his trench, leading his platoon, his company commander was killed and he took command of the company under heavy fire. They reached their objective and were ordered to withdraw. He was wounded in this action.

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Portrait of Siordet by Glyn Philpot

What is so interesting about this brave man is that he was foremost a poet and an artist. Here is one of his poems, To the Dead.

ONCE in the days that may not come again
The sun has shone for us on English fields,
Since we have marked the years with thanksgiving,
Nor been ungrateful for the loveliness
Which is our England, then tho’ we walk no more
The woods together, lie in the grass no more.
For us the long grass blows, the woods are green,
For us the valleys smile, the streams are bright,
For us the kind sun still is comfortable
And the birds sing; and since your feet and mine 

Have trod the lanes together, climbed the hills,

Then in the lanes and on the little hills

Our feet are beautiful forevermore.
And you — O if I call you, you will come
Most loved, most lovely faces of my friends
Who are so safely housed within my heart.
So parcel of this blessed spirit land
Which is my own heart’s England, so possest
Of all its ways to walk familiarly
And be at home, that I can count on you,
Loving you so, being loved, to wait for me,
So may I turn me in and by some sweet
Remembered pathway find you once again.
Then we can walk together, I with you.
Or you, or you, along some quiet road.
And talk the foolish, old, forgivable talk.
And laugh together; you will turn your head,
Look as you used to look, speak as you spoke,
My friend to me, and I your friend to you.
Only when at the last, by some cross-road.
Our longer shadows, falling on the grass,
Turn us back homeward, and the setting sun
Shines like a golden glory round your head.
There will be something sudden and strange in you.
Then you will lean and look into my eyes.
And I shall see the bright wound at your side.
And feel the new blood flowing to my heart.
Your blood, beloved, flowing to my heart,
And I shall hear you speaking in my ear—
O not the old, forgivable, foolish talk.
But flames and exaltations, and desires.
But hopes, and comprehensions, and resolves,
But holy, incommunicable things
That like immortal birds sing in my breast.
And springing from a fire of sacrifice.
Beat with bright wings about the throne of God.

He was killed in action in Mesopotamia (now Iraq) in 1917 and, fittingly, his name is on a memorial at the Victoria and Albert Museum.

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After the parade the RAF fly-past over Buckingham Palace came over Barons Court.

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The BBC filmed it better in 2012.

6 comments

  2. Dear Lucy,

    My Great Uncle Gerald Siordet was killed at the Second Battle of Kut in Mesopotamia on 9th February 1917. He has no known grave but his name is recorded on the Basra Memorial:
    ‘Gerald Caldwell Siordet MC, Second Lieutenant 13th Battalion Rifle Brigade’.

    If you would like further details of Gerald Siordet I can put you in touch with my brother who has written an account of his life.

    Andrew Ritchie

  3. This was the blog post which first drew me to CB’s scribblings, as I lightly Duck-Ducked around the web following the TV show which triggered CB to write about Siordet. I think the artistic response to WW1 is only now really breaking through in its proper richness. Ivor Gurney, Stanley Spencer and many more dared to see something noble in the midst of the horror and waste. The Ritchie connection is of course great, too.

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