Siegfried Loraine Sassoon

14 December, 2009

Works Cited

Works Cited

-“Battle of Passchendaele: 31 July - 6 November 1917.” World War One. BBC, n.d. Web. 13 Dec. 2009. .

-Miller, Alisa, and Stuart Lee. “The Siegfried Sassoon Collection.” First World War Digital Poetry Archive. University of Oxford, n.d. Web. 13 Dec. 2009. .

-“Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967).” Poetry Foundation. N.p., 2009. Web. 13 Dec. 2009. .

-“Voices of the Great War.” The Great War and the Shaping of the 20th Century. PBS, 2004. Web. 13 Dec. 2009. .

-Webb, Thomas EF. “‘Dottyville’—Craiglockhart War Hospital and shell-shock treatment in the First World War.” Journal of the Royal Society of Medecine. N.p., 2006. Web. 13 Dec. 2009. .

13 December, 2009

Aftermath

The war ended in 1918, but Sassoon continued to publish works about the war. He went on to write a few semi-autobiographical works that became a hit with the public.

Here is a poem published in 1919 called "The Aftermath":

Have you forgotten yet?...
For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Like traffic checked a while at the crossing of city ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heavens of life; and you're a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
But the past is just the same—and War's a bloody game...
Have you forgotten yet?...
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget.

Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz—
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench—
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, 'Is it all going to happen again?'

Do you remember that hour of din before the attack—
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
With dying eyes and lolling heads—those ashen-gray
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

Have you forgotten yet?...
Look up, and swear by the slain of the war that you'll never forget!



Analysis:

Speaker--
perhaps a veteran of the war, perhaps someone who has been personally affected by the war (the loss of a loved one, etc.). Probably safe to say that the speaker is Sassoon himself. Though this is a very personal poem, these experiences could be applicable to probably any soldier who served during the war.

Audience--
Society, future generations.

Uses "you" a lot ("Do you remember?"). This you can be addressed to a specific person or to a whole group of people.

"haunted gap in your mind"-->the "your" can be directed towards society in general, whose "gap" is due to a lack of young men (millions of men perished in the war, leaving a lack of men, a "gap" in society), but who have since "filled" that said gap.


Tone--
Bitter, angry, incredulous at the world's willingness to forget the past.
"Have you forgotten yet?.... / And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow / Like clouds in the lit heavens of life; and you're a man reprieved to go, / Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare"

Language--

compares the present mindset of the public to the trenches on the front so as to further emphasize his point that the events of the war should always remain ingrained in one's mind:

"And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow / Like clouds"
--> the "haunted gap" can be inferred as the trenches themselves or as No Man's Land on the front. The person to whom the narrator addresses this poem says his mind has a "haunted gap," which implies that the memory of the war has left his mind (his growth) stunted with the image of all of the atrocities of the war; the war is still buried at the bottom of this person's thoughts, but is now covered with "thoughts that flow" in order to overcome the unbearable images. What was once a permanent scar on this person's mind of WWI has now been covered over.

"Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget"
-->"look down" at the ground, which is a euphemism for the graves of all of the fallen soldiers. Even something as simple and common place as "the ground" holds such meaning for the narrator of this poem. The mundane now suddenly has a whole new meaning, one that is inextricably related to the war. Does this so that everything people now look at will hold the marks of the war, so that it may never be forgotten.

"stench," "rotting," "hopeless"
-->all used to convey an image of a typical day in the trenches to the audience who, if we choose to interpret the audience as the general public, may not have been very aware of the realities of the conditions on the front. More of an "in your face" shift in the tone of the poem.

Emotional Skeleton--

The poem starts out with a lighter tone, still accusatory, but not at all as explicit and graphic as the next few stanzas. It is as though the speaker wishes to ease the audience (whom he attempts to guilt trip throughout the poem for "forgetting" WWI). As the poem progresses, the tone becomes angrier and the images much more explicit, much more personal to the speaker.

Though there are resentment and anger towards his audience who has already "moved on" from the war and though the speaker wants everyone to remember the events that took place, the last line of the poem indicates that the speaker does not want society to feel remorse, but rather a sense of respect and honor for the fallen. The contrast between "dark months" and the graphic images with the ending imperative, " look up, and swear by the slain of the war that you'll never forget!"
-->"look up" where before the speaker has said "look down" implies a sense of hopefulness and resolution.



Craiglockhart War Hospital

Journal,

I have been placed in a war hospital and am under the watch of a certain Dr. Rivers. We speak daily about my dreams, my thoughts on the war, everything. Though my superiors would wish for the rest of the world to think it so, I am not crazy. I am to be released back to France in the coming year (1918).

Died of Wounds...........written 1917

HIS wet white face and miserable eyes
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell
His troubled voice: he did the business well.
The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining 5
And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood!
‘It’s time to go. O Christ, and what’s the good?
‘We’ll never take it, and it’s always raining.’
I wondered where he’d been; then heard him shout,
‘They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don’t go out... 10
I fell asleep ... Next morning he was dead;
And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.


Still bitterly opposed to this war,
Siegfried

Declaration Against the War

June 1917

Journal,

Things have gotten worse. After my dysentery, I was sent back to France in January of this year to fight. But after yet another war-related incident, I have been sent to England to recover. It seems that my recovery period has given me plenty of time to ruminate upon this horrendous war.

My pacifist leanings have led me to the conclusion that the war must end. I have written this declaration, in hopes of persuading the authorities to end this catastrophic battle, and have written it on behalf of my fellow soldiers and in the name of all those who have fallen in battle.

I am making this statement as an act of wilful defiance of military authority, because I believe that the War is being deliberately prolonged by those who have the power to end it. I am a soldier, convinced that I am acting on behalf of soldiers. I believe that this War, on which I entered as a war of defence and liberation, has now become a war of aggression and conquest. I believe that the purpose for which I and my fellow soldiers entered upon this war should have been so clearly stated as to have made it impossible to change them, and that, had this been done, the objects which actuated us would now be attainable by negotiation. I have seen and endured the sufferings of the troops, and I can no longer be a party to prolong these sufferings for ends which I believe to be evil and unjust. I am not protesting against the conduct of the war, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being sacrificed. On behalf of those who are suffering now I make this protest against the deception which is being practised on them; also I believe that I may help to destroy the callous complacency with which the majority of those at home regard the contrivance of agonies which they do not, and which they have not sufficient imagination to realize.

In hope of a better future,
Siegfried

How shall I continue?

1916

Journal,

Though I had just returned from leave to go to Somme, I suddenly contracted dysentery. I was sent to Oxford to recuperate. While recovering, I have made some dear friends who call themselves pacifists. Their teachings are quite impacting. I am unsure whether I can successfully return to the front and perform as I once used to. I have known so many deaths. Many of my good friends are deceased. How shall I continue on? My dear friend David Cuthbert Thomas has died on the front for an unjust war.

A reading of my poem, Mud and Rain


Disturbed by all of this,
Siegfried




On the Front

1916

Dear Journal,

I have been moved from England to France, with the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers. I am now a Second Lieutenant. The horrors of this war are astonishing, yet one must continue on...

The only way I know how to deal with such stress and atrocity is by flinging myself into my work. I have taken to going on consistent night raids and bombing the enemy lines. For this, my fellow comrades have named me "Mad Jack." I have even been awarded the Military Cross for saving a wounded soldier on the front while under heavy siege.

Still, the number of deaths is astounding. Of course, my poetry still serves as a respite from said horrors. I use it now as a different medium of expression, a different refuge, than I once did. So many men die such undignified deaths. And for what? We are fighting against a mysterious "other" with weapons our forefathers could not even imagine.

See below the links to some of my latest poems:

The Fathers..................written in 1916

To Victory (By a Private Soldier on the Front).......written in 1916



In hopes that this war shall quickly end,
Seigfried

Some older poetry

Dear journal,

As you are well aware, the written word is my dear passion. I find that university life does not suit me-- particularly the study of the law. Under the tutelage of a professor, I have published a few works, and, moreover, have ended my studies at Cambridge. Below, I have included a few links to my poems:

Arms and the Man..............................published in 1912

Miracles...............................................written in 1913, (published in 1919)


Yours,
Siegfried