Articoli di riviste sul tema "World War, 1914-1918 – Great Britain – Drama"

"War," said Thomas Paine, "involves in its progress such a train of unforseen and unsupposed circumstances that no human wisdom can calculate the end." History is replete with examples of wars that didn't exactly go as planners planned, but one conflict above all, the "Great War" of 1914-1918, has been responsible for our contemporary fear of the "unforseen and unsupposed circumstances" of war. The short, heroic, victorious war that most Europeans foresaw in August, 1914, became an unimaginable tragedy that buried a generation in the mud of the western front. It is, therefore, not surprising that books on World War I continue to flow from the presses.

The purpose of the article is to investigate how the First World War aff ected women’s suff rage in Great Britain, to analyze what place was given to women in the political plane during the Great War. Compare the infl uence of women “before” and “aft er” the war, what specifi c changes took place. The methodological basis of the research is based on the princi- ples of objectivity and historicism. During the research, comparative, analytical methods and the method of gender monitoring have been used during the research. Th e scientifi c novelty is based on the involvement of sources and historiography related to the participation of women in the struggle for obtaining voting rights in Great Britain during the Great War, the need to supplement modern Ukrainian research on this issue, to expand the knowledge base, is also im- portant. Conclusions. Th is issue is revealed with the help of documentary materials (memoirs, periodicals). On the examp le of specifi c female images of leading fi gures (in particular, Emmeline Pankhurst, Christabel Pankhurst, Nancy Astor and others), the features of the suff ragist move- ment, which operated in Great Britain before the beginning of the Great War and during it, are analyzed. Th e research used materials from newspaper periodicals from the time of the First World War, the original documents were translated in order to make the research accessible to Ukrainian historical science. The author investigated the participation of women in the political sphere and represented this process on a modern level. Th e methods of women’s struggle for suf- frage are revealed and the reactionary actions of British politics towards feminism are presented. The article analyzes the «Act on People’s Representation» issued in 1918, which granted women limited voting rights. Th e purpose of the article is to explore how the First World War af- fected women’s suff rage in Great Britain. British women were the fi rst to rise in the fi ght for suf- frage among European women. Their activism inspired other women to struggle as they sought to change their situation. Th e study of women’s history is one of the leading and important prob- lems in European historical studies, therefore, in the future, with the involvement of European and international experience and studying the practices of Western European gender studies, which studies will be relevant and widespread in Ukraine as well. Ensuring equality in Ukraine is an urgent problem that needs to be solved. Th erefore, the progressive experience of British women in the struggle for voting rights can be very useful.

This summer marks 110 years since the outbreak of the First World War, which fundamentally shaped the entire 20thcentury, also known by contemporaries as the Great War. The conflict, lasting four years, not only unfolded on the battlefields but also profoundly transformed the daily lives of the warring states' home fronts. A large portion of men were conscripted, leaving behind tasks for those at home and women to create essential economic and social conditions necessary for continuing the war efforts. This study examines how the First World War altered the traditional social and economic roles of women established in the 19thcentury, and how their societalstatus changed as a result of wartime conditions, specifically focusing on Great Britain, a member of the Entente. It explores the activities women engaged in both on the home front and in the theatres of war.

The article highlights the activities of Great Britain in the competition for control over oil fields and the oil industry in Iran (Persia) and the South Caucasus in 1914-1918, which was not the subject of special research in Russian historiography. On the eve of the war, Great Britain actually controlled the production and refining of oil in Persia through the AngloPersian Oil Company. With the outbreak of the war, British interests in the region were put under threat by Germany and the Ottoman Empire, which sought to challenge the British monopoly on Persian oil. Despite the fact that the territory of Persia remained far from the major battles of World War I, the country was a strategically important war theater for Great Britain. The British troops stationed in Persia controlled the territory of southern Persia, while the north of the country was controlled by Russian troops. After Russia’s withdrawal from the war at the end of 1917, there was a threat of strengthening the positions of Turkish troops and their allies in Persia and their advance to the Caucasus, to the oil fields of Baku. To counter this threat, a special taskforce was formed, called «Dunsterforce». During its 8-month stay in Persia, Dunsterforce strengthened the British position in the country, successfully suppressing anti-British forces with weapons, diplomacy and the pound sterling. Dunsterforce failed to protect Baku from capture by the Turks in September 1918. However, in November 1918, British troops managed to take over Baku. As a result, by the end of the war the western, eastern and southern shores of the Caspian Sea were under the full control of the British military. under the full control of the British military.

The theory (or rather the notion) that the international economy functioned more or less effectively for roughly a century down to 1914 because Great Britain provided the ‘public goods’ required for the smooth operation of the ‘liberal international order’ has become a textbook generalization. That notion emerged quite recently and can be traced to Kindleberger's attempt to explain the pronounced cyclical fluctuations experienced by the world economy during the interwar years 1919–39, as well as the severity and duration of the Great Depression from 1929–33 in terms of the American failure to sustain conditions necessary for the financial stability of an interdependent global economy. In Kindleberger's view, Britain, which had acted as a hegemonic power before 1914, lacked the resources to continue with its historic role after the Great War, while the United States (which by 1918 enjoyed a position in the world economy of arguably greater weight and significance than the United Kingdom had ever possessed during the long nineteenth century) commanded neither the knowledge nor the political will to replace Britain as the responsible hegemonic power until after the Second World War.

The activities of the Navy Ministry of Canada during the First World War are analyzed in the article. For the first time in Russian historiography, the main directions of Canada’s maritime policy are formulated within the framework of the government’s military course during the First World War. The sources for the study were the debates of the House of Commons of the Canadian Parliament, publications in the Canadian press, the military series of historical and statistical collections and journalism of those years. The state of Canadian naval bases and ports, as well as the features of the development of the shipbuilding industry of the dominion during the war years is characterized. It is proved that during the war years, Canada’s maritime policy was determined by the British Admiralty and developed in two directions: imperial and national. The development of the imperial direction of maritime policy was carried out in the interests of Great Britain. It provided for the recruitment of Canadian volunteers for service in the Royal Navy and the development of a shipbuilding industry for the needs of the British Navy. The national direction of maritime policy provided for the protection of Canadian coasts and territorial waters, for which the infrastructure of Canadian naval bases and ports was actively used. To perform patrol and escort functions, state and private vessels were involved not only for military, but also for civilian purposes.

AbstractIn the wake of the German invasion of Belgium and France in August 1914, four million persons went into exile. While such a displacement of population testified to a dramatic change in the character of war in western Europe, historiography and collective memory alike have so far concurred in marginalising the experience of refugees during the First World War. This article examines their unprecedented encounter with host communities in France and Great Britain. It demonstrates that the refugees' plight reveals the strengths as well as the tensions inherent in the process of social mobilisation that was inseparable from the First World War.

The arming of Europe and the making of the First World War. By David G. Herrmann. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996. Pp. xiii+307. ISBN 0-691-03374-9. £29.50.Armaments and the coming of war: Europe 1904–1914. By David Stevenson. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996. Pp. xi+463. ISBN 0-19-820208-3. £48.00.Authority, identity and the social history of the Great War. Edited by Frans Coetzee and Marilyn Shevin-Coetzee. Providence and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 1995. Pp. xxii+362. ISBN 1-57181-017-X. £40.Dismembering the male: men's bodies, Britain and the Great War. By Joanna Bourke. London: Reaktion Books, 1996. Pp. 336. ISBN 0-948462825. £19.95.Passchendaele: the untold story. By Robin Prior and Trevor Wilson. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996. Pp. xv+237. ISBN 0-300-066292-9. £19.95.Battle tactics of the western front: the British army's art of attack, 1916–1918. By Paddy Griffith. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1996 (paperback edition). Pp. xvi+286. ISBN 0-300-06663-5. No price given.Government and the armed forces in Britain, 1856–1990. Edited by Paul Smith. London, Hambledon Press, 1996. Pp. xviii+324. ISBN 1-85285-144-9. £35.Whether or not arms races cause wars was a historiographical preoccupation of the Cold War era. The issue was then of more than academic concern. Those opposed to the proliferation of nuclear weapons saw previous arms races as having destabilized the international system at best and as having led ineluctably to war at worst. Their critics countered that arms races possessed the capacity to increase terror and so promote more effective deterrence.

The article examines the European experience of creating war memorials dedicated to the World War I, using the motives of medieval architecture. The fascination with the Middle Ages, spread through the art and literature of the Neo-Gothic and national Romanism period, was emotionally rethought by the generation that survived the catastrophe of the global conflict of 1914–1918. At the new stage, the symbolic harsh images of the Middle Ages turned out to be more consonant with the social creation of former front-line soldiers than the classical antique forms used in the memorialization of wars in the 18th–19th centuries. This process was reflected in the commemoration of the Great War in Great Britain, France, Germany and other countries, where the monuments to the fallen began to give the appearance characteristic of the towers, fortresses and castles of the long-gone Middle Ages, giving them a new interpretative meaning.

The article investigates Britain’s position in colonial contradictions during World War I, based on the use of documents from Russia’s foreign policy department. The causes, course and consequences of the intensification of British politics in the colonial problem are described. The process of formation and implementation of London’s foreign policy initiatives in the colonial issue during the study period is examined. There are analyzed the role of Great Britain in the intensification of the colonial struggle between the great states during the First World War (1914-1918) and its perception by diplomatic representatives of the Russian Empire. During the First World War of 1914-1918, a set of problems and approaches to them were crystallized, which had a serious impact on the colonial contradictions between the great states in general and the position of Great Britain in this problem in particular. There is a considerable contrast between the methods of politics and the aspirations of the leading countries of the world at that time - Japan and Russia - on the one hand, and the United Kingdom and France - on the other. France is increasingly convinced that close co-operation in these matters with London is the only guarantee of the success of its colonialism. In addition, during the First World War, the new industrial states (Germany, Italy, and Japan) sought to capture the colonies for the sake of confirming their new status in the world, and the great colonial powers of the past (Spain, Portugal, the Netherlands) - to hold on to the rest for the sake of preservation of ephemeral international prestige, Russia - to expansion. The largest colonial empires - Great Britain and France were interested in maintaining the status quo. Whitehall’s policy on the colonial issue, at the time, can be traced to a very definite line, confirming the message of Russian diplomats linked to attempts to preserve the situation in their remote possessions and not get involved in conflicts and expensive measures where this can be avoided. In this sense, the British government has shown some flexibility and foresight - the relative weakening of the empire’s military and economic power about of the emergence of new, rapidly developing industrial powers and the achievement of colonies of certain selfsufficiency, made it necessary to revise traditional foreign policy. London was already unable to fully control the situation at sea, as well as to ensure the security of its vast possessions. Therefore, block cooperation with countries with close geopolitical interests comes to the fore, and policy in the colonies is gradually transformed from an expansionist one to a stabilization one aimed at reducing the costs of the metropolis and preventing potential conflicts in strategically important areas. In addition, Britain’s interests in the colonial issue largely coincide with the position of the United States, which also seeks to ensure “open doors” and “equal opportunities” instead of military-political contest. Key words: the Great Britain, First World War, international relationships, foreign policy, colonialism, colonial contradictions.

La posición estratégica de Canarias convirtió al archipiélago en un enclave destacado de la Primera Guerra Mundial. La guerra trastocó el panorama comunicativo insular y movilizó un amplio debate sociocultural en el que también participaron los organismos diplomáticos y propagandísticos internacionales, las compañías navieras y las colonias extranjeras. Este artículo analiza los esfuerzos desplegados por las potencias extranjeras para dirigir a la opinión pública canaria entre 1914 y 1918, describiendo las maquinarias propagandísticas de Francia, Alemania y Gran Bretaña, así como los instrumentos empleados para difundir sus mensajes en las islas. The strategic position of the Canary Islands made the archipelago a prominent enclave of the First World War. The war disrupted the island’s communication, sparking a broad sociocultural debate that also took in international diplomatic and propaganda organizations, shipping companies and foreign colonies. This article analyses the efforts made by foreign powers to direct Canarian public opinion between 1914 and 1918, describing the messages and propaganda apparatus of France, Germany, and Great Britain, as well as the instruments of dissemination employed on the islands.

In the early 20th century, urban centers in New Jersey, especially locations such as Newark, Hoboken, and Camden, were home to many immigrants from Europe. Hoboken stands out amongst these as it was the major port of embarkation for American troops en route to the World War I. The city saw American immigrants supporting the war effort in varying ways. Irish immigrants, for example, may well have looked at American support for Great Britain in a different light than native-born American citizens. Similarly, German-Americans, especially between 1914 and 1917, were ambivalent as American “neutrality” towards Germany shifted towards outright hostility. What can local newspapers, some of which catered to ethnic interests, tell us about the tensions between ethnic loyalties and the call for patriotic support for the Allies as the United States went to war? This paper focuses in part on editorial comments on the need for “loyalty,” and/or “patriotism” once war was declared in April, 1917. It was originally presented as a paper at the NJ Historical Commission’s 2017 conference, “New Jersey and The Great War,” held November 3-4, 2017 at Rowan College at Burlington County and Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst.

Fathers, families, and the state in France, 1914–1945. By Kristen Stromberg Childers. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 2003. Pp. 261. ISBN 0-8014-4122-6. £23.95.Origins of the French welfare state: the struggle for social reform in France, 1914–1947. By Paul V. Dutton. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Pp. 251. ISBN 0-521-81334-4. £49.99.Britain, France, and the financing of the First World War. By Martin Horn. Montreal and Kingston: McGill – Queen's University Press, 2002. Pp. 249. ISBN 0-7735-2293-X. £65.00.The gold standard illusion: France, the Bank of France and the International Gold Standard, 1914–1939. By Kenneth Mouré. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. Pp. 297. ISBN 0-19-924904-0. £40.00.Workers' participation in post-Liberation France. By Adam Steinhouse. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2001. Pp. 245. ISBN 0-7391-0282-6. $70.00 (hb). ISBN 0-7391-0283-4. $24.95 (pbk).In the traditional historiography of twentieth-century France the period after the Second World War is usually contrasted favourably with that after 1918. After 1945, new men with new ideas, born out of the shock of defeat in 1940 and resistance to Nazi occupation, laid the basis for an economic and social democracy. The welfare state was created, women were given full voting rights, and French security, in both economic and territorial respects, was partially guaranteed by integrating West Germany into a new supranational institutional structure in Western Europe. 1945 was to mark the beginning of the ‘30 glorious years’ of peace and prosperity enjoyed by an expanding population in France. In sharp contrast, the years after 1918 are characterized as a period dominated by France's failed attempts to restore its status as a great power. Policies based on making the German taxpayer finance France's restoration are blamed for contributing to the great depression after 1929 and the rise of Hitler. However, as more research is carried out into the social and economic reconstruction of France after both world wars, it is becoming clear that the basis of what was to become the welfare state after 1945 was laid in the aftermath of the First World War. On the other hand, new reforms adopted in 1945 which did not build on interwar policies, such as those designed to give workers a voice in decision-making at the workplace, proved to be short-lived.

Although never more than a junior partner or rival to the hegemonic powers Great Britain and United States, the German states and later the Reich have since independence played an important role in the foreign relations of Latin America. German-Latin American relations in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have been the subject of a growing body of research over the last three decades. The interest of historians has focused on the development of these relations throughout the nineteenth century, the era of German imperialism 1890-1914, and on the infiltration of National Socialism and its Auslandsorganisation (organization for Nazi party members living abroad) in Latin America from 1933 to 1945. In addition, the reconstruction of German ties to the Latin American states after the Second World War and postwar emigration from Germany to Latin America are subjects which scholars have recendy begun to analyze.

To this day, the term “soldier poetry” is still predominantly associated in popu- lar perception with the 1914–1918 trench poets, such as Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, or Isaac Rosenberg. And yet, the dawn of the new millennium, marked by the rise of the global War on Terror, saw a significant revival of the genre in Britain. One of the most noteworthy indicators of this is John Jeffcock’s anthology Heroes (2011), which has col- lected a hundred poems written by British soldiers who fought in recent conflicts – Iraq and Afghanistan in particular. While these poems are framed within the shifting military, socio-demographical, and political dimensions of war in our time, they simultaneously exhibit strong roots within the context of a specific literary tradition that originated in the First World War. This article sets out to analyse a selection of poems from Heroes, focus- ing on the way these poets construct a network of intertextual citations, borrowings, and allusions to connect their texts – quite deliberately – with the much acclaimed generation of poets form the Great War. The article argues that, by doing so, the poets facilitate the transposition of a set of broader myths and emotions that are typically associated with the Great War onto the new (con)text, thereby adding new literary, cultural, and social meanings to the texts.

While the horrors of the trench warfare on the Western Front in Belgium and France are part of the European cultural memory, to some degree the much more extensive and mobile Eastern Front of the 1914–1918 conflict has become the forgotten front (Die vergessene Front). Although for just over eleven months in 1914/15, the central part of a major front, some 1000 km long on which three million people died ran through the middle of what is now Poland, for a number of reasons the memory of this has there been all but erased from memory and from the cultural landscape. The reviewed three volumes are the result of a project that has attempted to address the poor state of historical memory of the momentous events and human drama that took place a century earlier on the segment of the front, 55 km west of Warsaw. Here, from mid-December 1914, the Russian Imperial army tried to hold back the eastward advance of the German troops on defences built along the Bzura and Rawka rivers. For the next seven months, the fighting here took the form of the same type of prolonged static trench warfare more familiar on the Western Front (the only place in the eastern sphere of war that this happened). The German army made every effort (including mining and several major gas attacks), to advance on Warsaw but failed to break through. It was only after the Great Retreat of the Russian army in the summer of 1915 that these defences were overrun and Warsaw fell.

The article deals with the national-cultural activities of Vasyl Prokhoda in the POW camps in Austria-Hungary during the First World War. First of all, the stages of military service in the Russian army on the eve and during the Great War have been clarified (1912 – beginning of service in the 51st Lithuanian Regiment in Simferopol; 1913 – courses of the reserve ensigns; November 1914 – the rank of ensign; the Austro-Hungarian front of the First World War; winter 1914–1915 – participation in the Carpathian Operation of the Russian Army, captivity). Special attention is paid to his staying in the POW camps (Josefstadt, Liberec, Brux (Most), Theresienstadt (Terezin), stages of his national identity evolution. It stated that the formation of V. Prokhoda's national identity was facilitated by various factors: first of all, acquaintance with K. Kuril, program documents of the Union for the Liberation of Ukraine, creation of Ukrainian libraries, choirs, drama clubs in the camps, reading of works by T. Shevchenko, M. Vovchka, etc. The author also investigates the public activities of V. Prokhoda in the POW camps, his contribution to the organization of Ukrainian life there, highlights living conditions in the camps (according to his observations), as well as specifics of inter-ethnic relations against the backdrop of events of the Russian Revolution 1917. The perception and attitude of nationally conscious Ukrainians (prisoners of war), in particular, V. Prokhody, to the creation of the Ukrainian Central Rada, its I and II Universals, the resolutions of the first military congresses in Ukraine, the Bolshevik coup in Russia in October 1917, compared to the estimates of these events by Russians (prisoners of war). The circumstances that opened the possibility of forming Ukrainian divisions of prisoners of war and sending them to disposal of the Government of the Ukrainian People's Republic (UNR) in the first half of 1918 were clarified. The last months of V. Prokhoda's staying in the POW camps under conditions of his health deterioration, the circumstances of his returning to Ukraine after the coup of P. Skoropadskyi are presented. Keywords Vasyl Prokhoda, national and cultural activity, POW camps, Austro-Hungarian Monarchy.

The article analyzes the peculiarities of changing socio-economic leadership at the end of the nineteenth century. It is shown that Britain`s lag behind its rivals in foreign markets is associated withthe transition to an extensive algorithm for the existence of the largest empire in the world, the homeland of the industrial revolution, its reorientation to financially usurious mechanisms forobtaining super-profits, an indicator of the beginning of the stadial-civilizational decline of the classical bourgeois formation. It is shown that Germany, which in our time continues to be consideredthe main culprit for World War I, during this period, receives competitive advantages, first of all, by forcing an innovative component of its development, due to the election of a fundamentally different,relative to the Anglo-Saxon, model of the postсapitalist type of social order. It is important that on the basis of similar principles of the new social system in the twentieth century, a number of developedcountries of the East and West have made an economic miracle. It has been proved that the sources of antagonism between the most powerful geopolitical players that led to the Great War are due not so much to the so-called colonial redistribution of the world, but to the collision of two incompatible strategies for the further existence of mankind. Moreover, the doom of the Russian Empire for such an approach was related precisely to the fact that once again lost the historical chance of its own modernization, it was in the world military conflict that was inevitable, because of the domination in the state of a compradoriously oriented "lazy class" (T .Veblen), elected the status of a satellite of the United Kingdom and France, which at that time was the main outpost of the rotting monopoly financial and invading imperialism of a qualitatively new global type, which eventually became the main cause of both worlds wars, and then the cold and present "hybrid" wars (the current Putin regime is derived from the modern global "postmodern system" of postmodern neocolonialism). The hypothesis that the cause of the First and Second World Wars was the only aggressive nationalism is refuted, which in fact, in the form of Nazism became a non-constructive reaction to the globally-permissive parasitism that caused the First World War and the "communist experiment", generated by the civil war caused by the catastrophe of the unprecedented in terms of the scale of the war of 1914-1918.

This article provides a comparative (factual) analysis of changes in the political, legislative, and economic structures of public administration in the Russian Empire and Great Britain during the First World War (1914–1918). The emergence of military-economic regulatory bodies in both Empires led to diametrically opposite results of the activities of the state apparatus. In the British Empire, the bourgeoisie and socio-political movements consolidated their activities, renouncing many democratic rights in favor of strengthening public administration. In this regard, one of the most important consequences of the First World War is the expansion of legislative powers and the actual power of the Government. In 1914 The Habeas Corpus Act was suspended and the Act for the Protection of the State was adopted, legally transferring full power to the Government for the duration of the war. At the end of the war, this act was repealed, but some of the rights awarded to the Government as temporary and extraordinary continued to apply even after their official cancellation. At the same time, in the Russian Empire, the desire of the bourgeoisie and political parties to create the most favorable conditions for achieving their political and economic goals led to the fact that the emergence of military-economic regulatory bodies extremely irrationally rebuilt the entire system of public administration, from the point of view of ensuring unity in the activities of its individual links. The strengthening of the industrial activity of the administration of the public management organizations system simultaneously with the rapid increase in the responsibility of the recent crisis phenomena, international has led to the image of disunity in the empire of the activities of the most important under the influence of the links of the state state of the Russian apparatanako. The formation of a large number of governmental, public and, in fact, commercial structures has created enormous difficulties in the activities of the state management system. В данной статье проводится сравнительный (фактический) анализ изменений политических, законодательных, экономических структур государственного управления в Российской империи и Великобритании в годы Первой мировой войны (1914–1918 гг.). Возникновение в обоих Империях органов военно-экономического регулирования привело к диаметрально противоположным результатам деятельности государственного аппарата. В Британской империи буржуазия и общественно-политические движения консолидировали свою деятельность, отказываясь от многих демократических прав в пользу усиления государственного управления. В этом плане к числу важнейших последствий Первой мировой войны относится расширение законодательных полномочий и фактической власти правительства. В 1914 г. был приостановлен Хабеас корпус акт и принят Акт о защите государства, законно передававший правительству на время войны всю полноту власти. По окончании войны этот акт был отменен, однако некоторые права, врученные правительству в качестве временных и экстраординарных, продолжали применяться и после их официальной отмены. В то же время в Российской империи стремление буржуазии и политических партий к созданию наиболее благоприятных условий для достижения своих политических и экономических целей привело к тому, что появление органов военно-экономического регулирования крайне нерационально перестроило всю систему государственного управления, с точки зрения обеспечения единства в деятельности ее отдельных звеньев. Усиление деятельности общественных организаций одновременно с нарастанием кризисных явлений, привело к разобщенности в деятельности важнейших звеньев государственного аппарата. Образование большого количества правительственных, общественных и, по сути, коммерческих структур, создало огромные трудности в деятельности системы управления государством.

The article deals with some key aspects of the perception of the Russian revolution of 1917 by political establishment and public at large in Great Britain which occupied a leading position in the Entente throughout the First World War of 1914 1918. The author retraces the main periods in the transformation of British attitudes to the revolutionary events in Russia: from February to October of the crucial year for this country and the whole world. Based on new or lessknown sources, this study is a comparative analysis of evaluations of radical upheaval in the life of the former empire, which became a republic, by representatives of various political parties and movements from Conservatives to leftLabours. The paper concludes that a circular trajectory may be considered as the most typical for the general dynamics of the Russian (Soviet)British relations in the Twentieth Century.В статье рассматриваются некоторые ключевые аспекты восприятия русской революции 1917 года политическим истеблишментом и широкой общественностью Великобритании, занимавшей лидирующие позиции в Антанте на протяжении всей Первой мировой войны 19141918 годов. Автор прослеживает основные периоды трансформации отношения англичан к революционным событиям в России: с февраля по октябрь решающего года для этой страны и всего мира. Опираясь на новые или менее известные источники, данное исследование представляет собой сравнительный анализ оценок радикальных потрясений в жизни бывшей империи, ставшей Республикой, представителями различных политических партий и движенийот консерваторов до левых лейбористов. Сделан вывод о том, что круговая траектория может рассматриваться как наиболее характерная для общей динамики российскобританских отношений в ХХ веке.

The report reconstructs how one hundred years ago the world's largest powers, primarily France, Great Britain, Japan, the Kingdom of Italy, and the United States, began to build a new Versailles-Washington system of international relations, which consolidated territorial changes as a result of the First World War and the collapse of the German, Ottoman, and Austrian-Hungarian and Russian empires. The geopolitical prerequisites and consequences of the Resolution of the Council of Ambassadors of March 14, 1923 regarding Eastern Galicia are analyzed. It has been proven that the principle of self-determination of peoples, proclaimed by world leaders, did not become the basis of post-war national-state demarcation, in particular in Central and Eastern Europe. Therefore, with the support of the Entente, the Ukrainian ethnic territory (conciliar Ukrainian People's Republic) was redistributed by Poland, Romania, Czechoslovakia and Bolshevik Russia, which concluded the Peace of Brest with defeated Germany and was in international isolation for some time. The countries of the West did not believe in the state efforts of the disunited political elite of the Ukrainian People's Republic of Ukraine and the Western Ukrainian People's Republic, as well as in the monarchical plans of the Hetmanate, which manoeuvre between German and White Guard post-war strategies. The Entente countries assigned the role of a sanitary border against the possible expansion of Bolshevik Russia (later the USSR) to the revived Poland in 1918, with which France concluded a political agreement and a military convention in 1921. The postwar Eastern European borders, in particular between Poland and the USSR along the Zbruch River, were «legitimized» by the Peace of Riga in 1921, as well as by the resolution of the Entente Council of Ambassadors in 1923, which marked the foreign policy defeat of both the Ukrainian People's Republic and the Western Ukrainian People's Republic, as well as the end of the Ukrainian Revolution of 1914–1923 It was established that Warsaw ignored the international demand to grant national-territorial autonomy to Ukrainians, instead dividing the region into three voivodships even before the specified resolution. Keywords: Ukraine, East Galicia, Poland, countries of the Entente, geopolitics, military occupation, political parties.

Nugzar zosidze E-mail: n.zosidze@bsu.edu.ge Associate Professor, Batumi Shota Rustaveli State University Batumi, Georgia https://orcid.org/0000-0003-2613-3365 Abstract. In the early twentieth century, two large opposing hostile coalitions have formed in Europe: Triple Alliance and Triple Entente. The Triple Alliance initially included: Germany, Austria-Hungary, and Italy. After the start of the World War I, the latter withdrew from the bloc, but Ottoman Empire and Bulgaria joined it, thus forming the Quadruple Alliance. The countries included in it demanded a "place under the sun" and assumed to take the colonies from the Entente countries through war. The core of the "Entente" consisted of the world's largest colonial empires of that time - Great Britain, France and Russia. It was between these two imperialist groups that the World War I of 1914-1918 broke out, involving thirty-eight states from different continents. The war was imperialistic, unjust and conquering on both sides, resulting in the deaths and maiming of millions of people, destruction and extermination on a grand scale. Germany and its allies had significant plans for Transcaucasia and the expulsion of Russia from there. This unity of these interests largely led to the Ottoman Empire joining the Alliance, following the 1908 Young Turk Revolution. After the Revolution, three leaders distinctively stood out in the political life of the Ottoman Empire: Enver Pasha, Military Minister and and de facto dictator of the Ottoman Empire; Talaat Pasha, Minister of Internal Affairs; and Ahmed Djemal Pasha, Minister of Marine. Those three were obviously prone to Germanophilism. Young Turks, in their attempts to find ways for quickly reorganizing their army defeated in the Balkan wars, looked at Germany with hope. That is why they happily met Germany's proposal to send a military mission to the Ottoman empire, which was received. On 8 October 1913, an agreement was signed between Germany and the Ottoman Empire, which gave the Sanders military mission extensive rights (M.Larcher, La guerre Turque dans la guerre mondiale: 609-610). The German military mission undertook considerable work in the Ottoman Empire prior to the war. The members of the mission had responsible positions in the local general staff, border corps and fortifications. The history of the period in question became especially relevant from the beginning of the 50s of the twentieth century. However, many details and features of these liasons have not yet been fully investigated, comprehensively studied and scientifically substantiated.

The First World War, also known as The Great War, was fought from late July 1914 to November 1918. It pitted the armies and industrial might of the Central Powers, notably Germany, against those of Britain, France, and other Allied Powers.

The story of Ernest John Moeran’s experiences during the First World War has long been one of sensational speculation, and a narrative has evolved over the years that has significantly informed the reception and assessment of the composer’s music. Since 2007, the author of this paper has examined a mass of evidence, much of it previously unknown or disregarded, which has called into question the reliability of this narrative. Following the 100th anniversaries both of Moeran’s injury at the Second Battle of Bullecourt in northern France on 3 May 1917, and of the ending of the First World War on 11 November 1918, this article has been written to present, in unprecedented detail, an evidence-based account of the composer’s war, from its outbreak in August 1914, to his discharge in January 1919, both chronicling what happened to him, and suggesting how his life and work could be reconsidered in the light of the new narrative. Parts of this article derive from a paper by the same author: The Moeran Myth, previously published in British Music, vol. 32 (2010), 26-48, and from conference papers delivered by the author at ‘Music in Ireland: 1916 and Beyond’, Dublin, April 2016: Moeran in Ireland, 1917-1918 and 1935, and ‘A Great Divide or a Longer Nineteenth Century: Music, Britain and the First World War’, Durham, January 2017: A Composer Goes to War—E. J. Moeran and the First World War.

This study deals with a significant historical subject, focusing on the British stance towards the Arab Emirates in the north of the Arabian Peninsula during the First World War, particularly in relation to the British Conflict with the Ottoman Empire. The primary goal for Britain was to end the Ottoman presence in the region and counter the influence of local forces in the north of the Arabian Peninsula. To achieve this objective, Britain employed a combination of both cooperative and coercive methods. Furthermore, the study explores the support from the people of the north of the Arabian Peninsula for the Great Arab Revolt, a movement aimed at liberating and elevating the status of the Arabs. The revolution had the potential to succeed in its aims if not for Britain's failure to honor its promises to the Arabs. This study aims to understand the nature of the British position on the Arab Emirates in the north of the Arabian Peninsula during the First World War and assess the consequences of this stance on the region and the Arabian Peninsula as a whole. Additionally, the study aims to elucidate the British plan to assert control over the entire Arab East and understand the circumstances and conditions surrounding the north of the Arabian Peninsula during the First World War. It also examines the reaction of the local forces towards the British intervention. The significance of this research lies in its examination of British policies towards the local forces in the north of the Arabian Peninsula during the First World War and the responses of these forces. It fills a gap in the existing literature, as most writings have primarily focused on the Najd and Makkah regions, paying little attention to the northern Arabian Peninsula. Keywords: ottoman Empire, Colonial Britain, Emirate of hail.

Through literary analysis, comparative and memory studies, the article focuses on the works of Lithuanian fiction on the theme of the Great War (1914–1918), which became a prerequisite for the establishment of the Lithuanian nation­state. The aim of the article was to show different attitudes towards the war, convey the develop­ ment of collective consciousness, and present a summary assessment of the war as a spiritual shock and a global event of memory. The works selected for analysis be­ long to the contemporaries of the Great War: the classics of Lithuanian literature who stand out for their artistic maturity in the context of their war­themed works. In the first months of the war, Vaižgantas, one of the leaders of the national revival, published the allegorical story ‘Karo slibinas’ (The Dragon of War) in a periodical. The story conveys the horror and the scale of the war that had engulfed humani­ ty. The war dragon is a mythical animal that resurrects time after time and begins hunting people down without any measure or mercy. People are hypnotised by its power; they voluntarily send their children, brothers, and husbands to the jaws of the dragon. Soon after, Antanas Vienuolis’s short stories ‘Didysis karas’ (The Great War), ‘Mirtinai sužeistas’ (Mortally Wounded), and ‘Karžygis’ (A Hero) also appeared in a periodical. In ‘The Great War’, the war appears vile and not ‘great’ at all, destroying peasants’ usual environment and cynically killing those who failed to realise where they were running or why they were at war. In the second short story, the central character suffers a psychological shock because he cannot reconcile his romantic im­ agination of high German culture with the brutal behaviour of the Germans he has to experience when he is suspected of espionage. Disturbed consciousness disrupts the life of the gifted young man. The way the writer conveys the tragedy of the ‘little’ man resonates with the image created in the literature of the Great War. A different panoramic and epic picture of the world opens in Maironis’s poem Mūsų vargai (Our Troubles) completed in 1919. The national poet of Lithuania cre­ ates a verse novel about the war in which he highlights its most important events and identifies those that are directly related to Lithuania. In Maironis’s poem, all the suffering, calamities, deaths, expulsion of the peasants to the depths of Russia, and the misery of the prisoners in war camps acquire the meaning of noble suffer­ ing that leads to the final salvation: in the final scene, the main characters celebrate their wedding, and Lithuania becomes an independent state. Thus, the war that was ‘not ours’ turns into ‘our war’ in Maironis’s work. The independence of Lithuania was Maironis’s lifelong dream which he believed in and which he conveyed in his entire work. This poem and especially its final scene in the Vatican, where the Pope blesses the marriage of the main protagonists as well as the young state of Lithuania is a symbolical expression of the spiritual triumph of the poet. Still another type of a relationship with war opens up in Vydūnas’s drama Pasaulio gaisras (The World on Fire). This is an analysis of the phenomenon of war on micro and macro levels and a reflection on it in a dramatic form: here, the life­affirming procreative female civilization conflicts with the life­denying, male, killing civiliza­ tion. In this work, Vydūnas’s main idea and his concept of the human in history are most clearly articulated. The cruel and alien war in the works of Vaižgantas and Vienuolis undergoes a change in Maironis’s drama, where it is somewhat ‘domesticated’, transformed into ‘our’ war, endured yet meaningful. In Vydūnas’s drama, war is a litmus test revealing human­ ity’s greatest moral flaws but also expressing the noblest feelings at the same time. Until now, Lithuanian literature of the Great War has not been approached as a single phenomenon of memory: this study fills this gap at least partially. Observing Russia’s war against Ukraine, it must be noted that war and literature have been insepara­ ble since the time of Homer, and the nations bordering on Russia in the west have to constantly defend their independence with arms. It seems that humanity is still dealing with the problems of war and peace that were the same a hundred years ago. Much has been achieved in terms of security and stability but not everything: the ideal coexistence of nations on the planet remains a collective desire and ideal.

Allgemeines Das ist Militärgeschichte! Probleme - Projekte - Perspektiven. Hrsg. mit Unterstützung des MGFA von Christian Th. Müller und Matthias Rogg Dieter Langewiesche Lohn der Gewalt. Beutepraktiken von der Antike bis zur Neuzeit. Hrsg. von Horst Carl und Hans-Jürgen Bömelburg Birte Kundrus Piraterie von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart. Hrsg. von Volker Grieb und Sabine Todt. Unter Mitarb. von Sünje Prühlen Martin Rink Robert C. Doyle, The Enemy in Our Hands. America's Treatment of Enemy Prisoners of War from the Revolution to the War on Terror Rüdiger Overmans Maritime Wirtschaft in Deutschland. Schifffahrt - Werften - Handel - Seemacht im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert. Hrsg. von Jürgen Elvert, Sigurd Hess und Heinrich Walle Dieter Hartwig Guntram Schulze-Wegener, Das Eiserne Kreuz in der deutschen Geschichte Harald Potempa Michael Peters, Geschichte Frankens. Von der Zeit Napoleons bis zur Gegenwart Helmut R. Hammerich Johannes Leicht, Heinrich Claß 1868-1953. 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Les périodiques et la mutation de la société allemande à l'époque wilhelmienne. Hrsg. von/ed. par Michel Grunewald und/et Uwe Puschner Bruno Thoß Peter Winzen, Im Schatten Wilhelms II. Bülows und Eulenburgs Poker um die Macht im Kaiserreich Michael Epkenhans Alexander Will, Kein Griff nach der Weltmacht. Geheime Dienste und Propaganda im deutsch-österreichisch-türkischen Bündnis 1914-1918 Rolf Steininger Maria Hermes, Krankheit: Krieg. Psychiatrische Deutungen des Ersten Weltkrieges Thomas Beddies Ross J. Wilson, Landscapes of the Western Front. Materiality during the Great War Bernd Jürgen Wendt Jonathan Boff, Winning and Losing on the Western Front. The British Third Army and the Defeat of Germany in 1918 Christian Stachelbeck Glenn E. Torrey, The Romanian Battlefront in World War I Gundula Gahlen Uwe Schulte-Varendorff, Krieg in Kamerun. Die deutsche Kolonie im Ersten Weltkrieg Thomas Morlang 1919-1945 »Und sie werden nicht mehr frei sein ihr ganzes Leben«. 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IntroductionThey shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them.Recited at many Anzac and Remembrance Day services, ‘The Ode’, an excerpt from a poem by Laurence Binyon, speaks of a timelessness within the inexorable march of time. When we memorialise those for whom time no longer matters, time stands still. Whether those who died in service of their country have finally “beaten time” or been forced to acknowledge that “their time on earth was up”, depends on your preference for clichés. Time and death are natural bedfellows. War memorials, be they physical or digital, declare a commitment to “remember them”. This article will compare and contrast the purpose of, and community response to, virtual and physical war memorials. It will examine whether virtual war memorials are a sign of the times – a natural response to the internet era. If, as Marshall McLuhan says, the medium is the message, what experiences do we gain and lose through online war memorials?Physical War MemorialsDuring and immediately after the First World War, physical war memorials were built in almost every city, town and village of the Allied countries involved in the war. They served many purposes. One of the roles of physical war memorials was to keep the impact of war at the centre of a town’s consciousness. In a regional centre like Bathurst, in New South Wales, the town appears to be built around the memorial – the court, council chambers, library, churches and pubs gather around the war memorials.Similarly, in small towns such as Bega, Picton and Kiama, war memorial arches form a gateway to the town centre. It is an architectural signal that you are entering a community that has known pain, death and immense loss. Time has passed, but the names of the men and women who served remain etched in stone: “lest we forget”.The names are listed in a democratic fashion: usually in alphabetical order without their rank. However, including all those who offered their service to “God, King and Country” (not just those who died) also had a more sinister and divisive effect. It reminded communities of those “eligibles” in their midst whom some regarded as “shirkers”, even if they were conscientious objectors or needed to stay and continue vital industries, like farming (Inglis & Phillips 186).Ken Inglis (97) estimated that every second Australian family was in mourning after the Great War. Jay Winter (Sites 2) goes further arguing that “almost every family” in the British Commonwealth was grieving, either for a relative; or for a friend, work colleague, neighbour or lover. Nations were traumatised. Physical war memorials provided a focal point for that universal grief. They signalled, through their prominence in the landscape or dominance of a hilltop, that it was acceptable to grieve. Mourners were encouraged to gather around the memorial in a public place, particularly on Anzac Day and Remembrance Day each year. Grief was seen, observed, respected.Such was the industrial carnage of the Western Front, that about one third of Australia and New Zealand’s fatal casualties were not brought home. Families lost a family member, body and soul, in the Great War. For those people who subscribed to a Victorian view of death, who needed a body to grieve over, the war memorial took on the role of a gravesite and became a place where people would place a sprig of wattle, poke a poppy into the crevice beside a name, or simply touch the letters etched or embossed in the stone (Winter, Experience 206). As Ken Inglis states: “the statue on its pedestal does stand for each dead man whose body, identified or missing, intact or dispersed, had not been returned” to his home town (11).Physical war memorials were also a place where women could forge new identities over time. Women accepted, or claimed their status as war widows, grieving mothers or bereft fiancés, while at the same time coming to terms with their loss. As Joy Damousi writes: “mourning of wartime loss involved a process of sustaining both a continuity with, and a detachment from, a lost soldier” (1). Thus, physical war memorials were transitional, liminal spaces.Jay Winter (Sites 85) believes that physical war memorials were places to both honour and mourn the dead, wounded, missing and shell-shocked. These dual functions of both esteeming and grieving those who served was reinforced at ceremonies, such as Anzac or Remembrance Day.As Joy Damousi (156) and Ken Inglis (457, 463) point out, war memorials in Australia are rarely sites of protest, either for war widows or veterans campaigning for a better pension, or peace activists who opposed militarism. When they are used in this way, it makes headlines in the news (Legge). They are seldom used to highlight the tragedy, inhumanity or futility of war. The exception to this, were the protests against the Vietnam War.The physical war memorials which mushroomed in Australian country towns and cities after the First World War captured and claimed those cataclysmic four years for the families and communities who were devastated by the war. They provided a place to both honour and mourn those who served, not just once, but for as long as the memorial remained. They were also a place of pilgrimage, particularly for families who did not have a grave to visit and a focal point for the annual rituals of remembrance.However, over the past 100 years, some unmaintained physical war memorials are beginning to look like untended graves. They have become obstacles rather than sentinels in the landscape. Laurence Aberhart’s haunting photographs show that memorials in places like Dorrigo in rural New South Wales “go largely unnoticed year-round, encroached on by street signage and suburbia” (Lakin 49). Have physical war memorials largely fulfilled their purpose and are they becoming obsolete? Perhaps they have been supplanted by the gathering space of the 21st century: the Internet.Digital War MemorialsThe centenary of the Great War heralded a mushrooming of virtual war memorials. Online First World War memorials focus on collecting and amassing information that commemorates individuals. They are able to include far more information than will fit on a physical war memorial. They encourage users to search the digitised records that are available on the site and create profiles of people who served. While they deal in records from the past, they are very much about the present: the user experience and their connection to their ancestors who served.The Imperial War Museum’s website Lives of the First World War asks users to “help us build the permanent digital memorial to all who contributed during the First World War”. This request deserves scrutiny. Firstly, “permanent” – is this possible in the digital age? When the head of Google, Vint Cerf, disclosed in 2015 that software programming wizards were still grappling with how to create digital formats that can be accessed in 10, 100 or a 1000 years’ time; and recommended that we print out our precious digital data and store it in hard copy or risk losing it forever; then it appears that online permanency is a mirage.Secondly, “all who contributed” – the website administrators informed me that “all” currently includes people who served with Canada and Britain but the intention is to include other Commonwealth nations. It seems that the former British Empire “owns” the First World War – non-allied, non-Commonwealth nations that contributed to the First World War will not be included. One hundred years on, have we really made peace with Germany and Turkey? The armistice has not yet spread to the digital war memorial. The Lives of the First world War website missed an opportunity to be leaders in online trans-national memorialisation.Discovering Anzacs, a website built by the National Archives of Australia and Archives New Zealand, is a little more subdued and honest, as visitors are invited to “enhance a profile dedicated to the wartime journey of someone who served”.Physical and online war memorials can work in tandem. In 2015, the Supreme Court of Victoria created a website that provides background information on the military service of the 159 members of the legal profession who are named on their Memorial board. This is an excellent example of a digital medium expanding on and reinvigorating a physical memorial.It is noteworthy that all of these online memorial websites commemorate those who served in the First World War, and sometimes the Boer or South African War. There is no space for remembering those who served or died in more recent wars like Afghanistan or Iraq. James Brown and others discuss how the cult of Anzac is overshadowing the service and sacrifices of the men and women who have been to more recent wars. The proximity of their service mitigates against its recognition – it is too close for comfortable, detached remembrance.Complementary But Not ExclusiveA comparison of their functions indicates that online memorials which focus on the First World War complement, but will never replace the role of physical war memorials. As discussed, physical war memorials were sites for grieving, pilgrimage and collectively honouring the men and women who served and died. Online websites which allow users to upload scanned documents and photographs; transcribe diary entries or letters; post tribute poems, songs or video clips; and provide links to other relevant records online are neither places of pilgrimage nor sites for grieving. They are about remembrance, not memory (Scates, “Finding” 221).Ken Inglis describes physical war memorials as “bearers of collective memory” (7). In a sense, online war memorials are keepers of individual, user-enhanced archival records. It can be argued that online memorials to the First World War tap into the desire for hero-worship, the boom in family history research and what Scates calls the “cult of remembrance” (“Finding” 218). They provide a way for individuals, often two or three generations removed, to discover, understand and document the wartime experiences of individuals in their family. By allowing descendants to situate their family story within the larger, historically significant narrative of the First World War, online memorials encourage people to feel that the suffering and untimely death of their forbear wasn’t in vain – that it contributed to something worthwhile and worth remembering. At a collective level, this contributes to the ANZAC myth and former Australian Prime Minister John Howard’s attempt to use it as a foundational myth for Australia’s nationhood.Kylie Veale (9) argues that cyberspace has encouraged improvements on traditional memorial practices because online memorials can be created in a more timely fashion, they are more affordable and they are accessible and enable the sharing of grief and bereavement on a global scale. As evidence of this, an enterprising group in the USA has developed an android app which provides a template for creating an online memorial. They compete with Memorialsonline.com. Veale’s arguments remind us that the Internet is a hyper-democratic space where interactions and sites that are collaborative or contemplative exist alongside trolling and prejudice. Veale also contends that memorial websites facilitate digital immortality, which helps keep the memory of the deceased alive. However, given the impermanence of much of the content on the Internet, this final attribute is a bold claim.It is interesting to compare the way individual soldiers are remembered prior to and after the arrival of the Internet. Now that it is possible to create a tribute website, or Facebook page in memory of someone who served, do families do this instead of creating large physical scrapbooks or photo albums? Or do they do both? Garry Roberts created a ‘mourning diary’ as a record of his journey of agonising grief for his eldest son who died in 1918. His diary consists of 27 scrapbooks, weighing 10 kilograms in total. Pat Jalland (318) suggests this helped Roberts to create some sort of order out of his emotional turmoil. Similarly, building websites or digital tribute pages can help friends and relatives through the grieving process. They can also contribute the service person’s story to official websites such as those managed by the Australian Defence Forces. Do grieving family members look up a website or tribute page they’ve created in the same way that they might open up a scrapbook and remind themselves of their loved one? Kylie Veale’s research into online memorials created for anyone who has died, not necessarily those killed by war, suggests online memorials are used in this way (5).Do grieving relatives take comfort from the number of likes, tags or comments on a memorial or tribute website, in the same way that they might feel supported by the number of people who attend a memorial service or send a condolence card? Do they archive the comments? Garry Roberts kept copies of the letters of sympathy and condolence that he received from friends and relatives after his son’s tragic death and added them to his 27 scrapbooks.Both onsite and online memorials can suffer from lack of maintenance and relevance. Memorial websites can become moribund like untended headstones in a graveyard. Once they have passed their use as a focal point of grief, a place to post tributes; they can languish, un-updated and un-commented on.Memorials and PilgrimageOne thing that online memorials will never be, however, are sites of pilgrimage or ritual. One does not need to set out on a journey to visit an online memorial. It is as far away as your portable electronic device. Online memorials cannot provide the closure or sense of identity and community that comes from visiting a memorial or gravesite.This was evident in December 2014 when people felt the need to visit the Lindt Café in Sydney’s Martin Place after the terrorist siege and lay flowers and tributes. While there were also Facebook tribute pages set up for these victims of violence, mourners still felt the need to visit the sites. A permanent memorial to the victims of the siege has now opened in Martin Place.Do people gather around a memorial website for the annual rituals which take place on Anzac or Remembrance Day, or the anniversaries of significant battles? In 2013, the Australian War Memorial (AWM) saw a spike in people logging onto the Memorial’s Remembrance Day web page just prior to 11am. They left the site immediately after the minute’s silence. The AWM web team think they were looking for a live broadcast of the Remembrance Day service in Canberra. When that wasn’t available online, they chose to stay on the site until after the minute’s silence. Perhaps this helped them to focus on the reason for Remembrance Day. Perhaps, as Internet speeds get faster, it will be possible to conduct your own virtual ceremony in real time with friends and family in cyberspace.However, I cannot imagine a time when visiting dignitaries from other countries will post virtual wreaths to virtual war memorials. Ken Inglis argues that the tomb of the Unknown Soldier in the AWM has become the ritual centre of the Australian nation, “receiving obligatory wreaths from every visiting head of state” (459).Physical and Online Memorials to the War in AfghanistanThere are only eight physical war memorials to the Afghanistan conflict in Australia, even though this is the longest war Australia has been involved in to date (2001-2015). Does the lack of physical memorials to the war in Afghanistan mean that our communities no longer need them, and that people are memorialising online instead?One grieving father in far north Queensland certainly felt that an online memorial would never suffice. Gordon Chuck’s son, Private Benjamin Chuck, was killed in a Black Hawk helicopter crash in Afghanistan in 2010 when he was only 27 years old. Spurred by his son’s premature death, Gordon Chuck rallied family, community and government support, in the tiny hinterland town of Yungaburra, west of Cairns in Queensland, to establish an Avenue of Honour. He knocked on the doors of local businesses, the Returned Servicemen’s League (RSL), the Australian Defence Forces and every level of government to raise $300,000. His intention was to create a timeless memorial of world standard and national significance. On 21 June 2013, the third anniversary of his son’s death, the Chief of the Defence Force and the Prime Minister formally opened the Avenue of Honour in front of “thousands” of people (Nancarrow).Diggers from Afghanistan who have visited the Yungaburra Avenue of Honour speak of the closure and sense of healing it gave them (Nancarrow). The Avenue, built on the shores of Lake Tinaroo, features parallel rows of Illawarra flame trees, whose red blossoms are in full bloom around Remembrance Day and symbolise the blood and fire of war and the cycle of life. It commemorates all the Australian soldiers who have died in the Afghanistan war.The Avenue of Honour, and the memorial in Martin Place clearly demonstrate that physical war memorials are not redundant. They are needed and cherished as sites of grief, hope and commemoration. The rituals conducted there gather gravitas from the solemnity that falls when a sea of people is silent and they provide healing through the comfort of reverent strangers.ConclusionEven though we live in an era when most of us are online every day of our lives, it is unlikely that virtual war memorials will ever supplant their physical forebears. When it comes to commemorating the First World War or contemporary conflicts and those who fought or died in them, physical and virtual war memorials can be complementary but they fulfil fundamentally different roles. Because of their medium as virtual memorials, they will never fulfil the human need for a place of remembrance in the real world.ReferencesBinyon, Laurence. “For the Fallen.” The Times. 21 Sep. 1914. 7 Oct. 2019 <https://www.army.gov.au/our-history/traditions/for-the-fallen>.Brown, James. Anzac’s Long Shadow. Sydney: Black Inc., 2014.Damousi, Joy. The Labour of Loss. Great Britain: Cambridge UP, 1999.Hunter, Kathryn. “States of Mind: Remembering the Australian-New Zealand Relationship.” Journal of the Australian War Memorial 36 (2002). 7 Oct. 2019 <https://www.awm.gov.au/articles/journal/j36/nzmemorial>.Inglis, Ken. Sacred Places: War Memorials in the Australian Landscape. Melbourne: Melbourne UP, 1998.Inglis, Ken, and Jock Phillips. “War Memorials in Australia and New Zealand: A Comparative Survey.” Australian Historical Studies 24.96 (1991): 179-191.Jalland, Pat. Australian Ways of Death: A Social and Cultural History 1840-1918. London: Oxford University Press, 2002.Knapton, Sarah. “Print Out Digital Photos or Risk Losing Them, Google Boss Warns.” Telegraph 13 Feb. 2015. 7 Oct. 2019 <http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/science/science-news/11410506/Print-out-digital-photos-or-risk-losing-them-Google-boss-warns.html>.Lakin, Shaune. “Laurence Aberhart ANZAC.” Artlink 35.1 (2015): 48-51.Legge, James. “Vandals Deface Two London War Memorials with ‘Islam’ Graffiti”. Independent 27 May 2013. 7 Oct. 2019 <https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/vandals-deface-two-london-war-memorials-with-islam-graffiti-8633386.html>.Luckins, Tanya. The Gates of Memory. Fremantle, WA: Curtin University Books, 2004.McLuhan, Marshall. Understating Media: The Extensions of Man. New York: Mentor, 1964.McPhedran, Ian. “Families of Dead Soldiers Angered after Defence Chief David Hurley Donates Memorial Plinth to Avenue of Honour.” Cairns Post 7 June 2014. 7 Oct. 2019 <http://www.cairnspost.com.au/news/cairns/families-of-dead-soldiers-angered-after-defence-chief-david-hurley-donates-memorial-plinth-to-avenue-of-honour/story-fnjpusyw-1226946540125>.McPhedran, Ian. “Backflip over Donation of Memorial Stone from Afghanistan to Avenue of Honour at Yungaburra.” Cairns Post 11 June 2014. 7 Oct. 2019 <http://www.cairnspost.com.au/news/cairns/backflip-over-donation-of-memorial-stone-from-afghanistan-to-avenue-of-honour-at-yungaburra/story-fnkxmm0j-1226950508126>.Ministry for Culture and Heritage. “Interpreting First World War Memorials.” Updated 4 Sep. 2014. <http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/war/interpreting-first-world-war-memorials>.Nancarrow, Kirsty. “Thousands Attend Opening of Avenue of Honour, a Memorial to Diggers Killed in Afghanistan”. ABC News 7 Nov. 2014. 2 Oct. 2014 <http://www.abc.net.au/news/2013-06-22/avenue-of-honour-remembers-fallen-diggers/4773592>.Scates, Bruce. “Finding the Missing of Fromelles: When Soldiers Return.” Anzac Legacies: Australians and the Aftermath of War. Eds. Martin Crotty and Marina Larsson. Melbourne: Australian Scholarly Publishing, 2010. 212-231.Scates, Bruce. “Soldiers’ Journeys: Returning to the Battlefields of the Great War.” Journal of the Australian War Memorial 40 (2007): n.p.Scott, Ernest. Australia during the War: The Official History of Australia in the War of 1914–1918. Vol. XI. Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1941.Stanley, Peter. “Ten Kilos of First World War Grief at the Melbourne Museum.” The Conversation 27 Aug. 2014. 10 Oct. 2019 <https://theconversation.com/ten-kilos-of-first-world-war-grief-at-the-melbourne-museum-30362>.Veale, Kylie. “Online Memorialisation: The Web as a Collective Memorial Landscape for Remembering the Dead.” Fibreculture Journal 3 (2004). 7 Oct. 2019 <http://three.fibreculturejournal.org/fcj-014-online-memorialisation-the-web-as-a-collective-memorial-landscape-for-remembering-the-dead/>.Winter, Jay. Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning. Cambrigde: Cambridge UP, 1995.———. The Experience of World War I. London: Macmillan, 1988.

At the start of the twentieth century, many young Australian artists travelled abroad to expand their art education and to gain exposure to the modern art movements of Europe. Most of these artists were active members of artist associations such as the Victorian Artists Society or the New South Wales Society of Artists. Male artists from Victoria were generally also members of the Melbourne Savage Club, a club with a strong association with the arts.This paper investigates the dual function of the club, as a space where the artists felt “at home” in the familiar environment that the club offered whilst they were abroad and, at the same time, a meeting space where they could engage in a stimulating artistic environment and gain introductions to leading figures in the art world. For those artists who chose England, London’s arts clubs played a large role, for it was in these establishments that they discussed, exhibited, shared, and met with their English counterparts. The club environment in London would have a significant impact on male Australian artists, as it offered a space where they were integrated into the English art world, which enhanced their experience whilst abroad.Artists were seldom members of Australia’s early gentlemen’s clubs, however, in the late nineteenth century Melbourne, artists formed less formal social groupings with exotic names such as the Prehistoric Order of Cannibals, the Buonarotti Club, and the Ishmael Club (Mead). Melbourne artists congregated in these clubs until the Melbourne Savage Club, modelled on the London Savage Club (1857)—a club whose membership was restricted to practitioners in the performing and visual arts—opened its doors in 1894.The Melbourne Savage Club had its origins in the Metropolitan Music Club, established in the late 1880s by a group of professional and amateur musicians and music lovers. The club initially admitted musicians and people from the dramatic professions free-of-charge, however, author Randolph Bedford (1868–1941) and artist Alf Vincent (1874–1915) were not content to be treated on a different basis to the musicians and actors, and two months after Vincent joined the club, at a Special General Meeting, the club resolved to vary Rule 6, “to admit landscape or portrait painters and sculptors without entrance fee” (Melbourne Savage Club). At another Special General Meeting, a year later, the rule was altered to admit “recognised members of the musical, dramatic and artistic professions and sculptors without payment of entrance fee” (Melbourne Savage Club).This resulted in an immediate influx of prominent Victorian male artists (Williams) and the Melbourne Savage Club became their place of choice to gather and enjoy the fellowship the club offered and to share ideas in a convivial atmosphere. When the opportunity arose for them to travel to London in the early twentieth century, they met in London’s famous art clubs. Membership of the Melbourne Savage Club not only conferred rights to visit reciprocal clubs whilst in London, but also facilitated introductions to potential patrons. The London clubs were the venue of choice for visiting artists to meet their fellow artist expatriates and to share experiences and, importantly, to meet with their British counterparts, exhibit their works, and establish valuable contacts.The London Savage Club attracted many Australian expatriates. Not only is it the grandfather of London’s bohemian clubs but also it was the model for arts clubs the world over. Founded in 1857, the qualification for admission was (and still is) to be, “a working man in literature or art, and a good fellow” (Halliday vii). If a candidate met these requirements, he would be cordially received “come whence he may.” This was embodied in the club’s first rules which required applicants for membership to be from a restricted range of pursuits relating to the arts thought to be commensurate with its bohemian ideals, namely art, literature, drama, or music.The second London arts club that attracted expatriate Australian artists was the New English Arts Club, founded in 1886 by young English artists returning from studying art in Paris. Members of The New English Arts Club were influenced by the Impressionist style as opposed to the academic art shown at the Royal Academy. As a meeting place for Australia’s expatriate artists, the New English Arts Club had a particular influence, as it exposed them to significant early Modern artist members such as John Singer Sargent (1856–1925), Walter Sickert (1860–1942), William Orpen (1878–1931) and Augustus John (1878–1961) (Corbett and Perry; Thornton; Melbourne Savage Club).The third, and arguably the most popular with the expatriate Australian artists’ club, was the Chelsea Arts Club, a bohemian club formed in 1891 by local working artists looking for a place to go to “meet, talk, eat and drink” (Cross).Apart from the American-born founding member, James McNeill Whistler (1834–1903), amongst the biggest Chelsea names at the time of the influx of travelling young Australian artists were modernists Sir William Orpen, Augustus John, and John Sargent. The opportunity to mix with these leading British contemporary artists was irresistible to these antipodean artists (55).When Melbourne artist, Miles Evergood (1871–1939) arrived in London from America in 1910, he had been an active exhibiting member of the Salmagundi Club, a New York artists’ club. Almost immediately he joined the New English Arts Club and the Chelsea Arts Club. Hammer tells of him associating with “writer Israel Zangwill, sculptor Jacob Epstein, and anti-academic artists including Walter Sickert, Augustus John, John Lavery, John Singer Sargent and C.R.W. Nevison, who challenged art values in Britain at the beginning of the century” (Hammer 41).Arthur Streeton (1867–1943) used the Chelsea Arts Club as his postal address, as did many expatriate artists. The Melbourne Savage Club archives contain letters and greetings, with news from abroad, written from artist members back to their “Brother Savages” (Various).In late 1902, Streeton wrote to fellow artist and Savage Club member Tom Roberts (1856–1931) from London:I belong to the Chelsea Arts Club now, & meet the artists – MacKennel says it’s about the most artistic club (speaking in the real sense) in England. … They all seem to be here – McKennal, Longstaff, Mahony, Fullwood, Norman, Minns, Fox, Plataganet Tudor St. George Tucker, Quinn, Coates, Bunny, Alston, K, Sonny Pole, other minor lights and your old friend and admirer Smike – within 100 yards of here – there must be 30 different studios. (Streeton 94)Whilst some of the artists whom Streeton mentioned were studying at either the Royal Academy or the Slade School, it was the clubs like the Chelsea Arts Club where they were most likely to encounter fellow Australian artists. Tom Roberts was obviously attentive to Streeton’s enthusiastic account and, when he returned to London the following year to work on his commission for The Big Picture of the 1901 opening of the first Commonwealth Parliament, he soon joined. Roberts, through his expansive personality, became particularly active in London’s Australian expatriate artistic community and later became Vice-President of the Chelsea Arts Club. Along with Streeton and Roberts, other visiting Melbourne Savage Club artists joined the Chelsea Arts Club. They included, John Longstaff (1861–1941), James Quinn (1869–1951), George Coates (1869–1930), and Will Dyson (1880–1938), along with Sydney artists Henry Fullwood (1863–1930), George Lambert (1873–1930), and Will Ashton (1881–1963) (Croll 95). Smith describes the exodus to London and Paris: “It was the Chelsea Arts Club that the Heidelberg School established its last and least distinguished camp” (Smith, Smith and Heathcote 152).Streeton, who retained his Chelsea Arts Club membership when he returned for a while to Australia, wrote to Roberts in 1907, “I miss Chelsea & the Club-boys” (Streeton 107). In relation to Frederick McCubbin’s pending visit he wrote: “Prof McCubbin left here a week ago by German ‘Prinz Heinrich.’ … You’ll introduce him at the Chelsea Club and I hope they make him an Hon. Member, etc” (Streeton et al. 85). McCubbin wrote, after an evening at the Chelsea Arts Club, following a visit to the Royal Academy: “Tonight, I am dining with Australian artists in Soho, and shall be there to greet my old friends. How glad I am! Longstaff will be there, and Frank Stuart, Roberts, Fullwood, Pontin, Coates, Quinn, and Tucker’s brother, and many others from all around” (MacDonald, McCubbin and McCubbin 75). Impressed by the work of Turner he wrote to his wife Annie, following avisit to the Tate Gallery:I went yesterday with Fullwood and G. Coates and Tom Roberts for a ramble … to the Tate Gallery – a beautiful freestone building facing the river through a portico into the gallery where the lately found turners are exhibited – these are not like the greater number of pictures in the National Gallery – they represent his different periods, but are mostly in his latest style, when he had realised the quality of light (McCubbin).Clearly Turner’s paintings had a profound impression on him. In the same letter he wrote:they are mostly unfinished but they are divine – such dreams of colour – a dozen of them are like pearls … mist and cloud and sea and land, drenched in light … They glow with tender brilliancy that radiates from these canvases – how he loved the dazzling brilliancy of morning or evening – these gems with their opal colour – you feel how he gloried in these tender visions of light and air. He worked from darkness into light.The Chelsea Arts Club also served as a venue for artists to entertain and host distinguished visitors from home. These guests included; Melbourne Savage Club artist member Alf Vincent (Joske 112), National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) Trustee and popular patron of the arts, Professor Baldwin Spencer (1860–1929), Professor Frederick S. Delmer (1864–1931) and conductor George Marshall-Hall (1862–1915) (Mulvaney and Calaby 329; Streeton 111).Artist Miles Evergood arrived in London in 1910, and visited the Chelsea Arts Club. He mentions expatriate Australian artists gathering at the Club, including Will Dyson, Fred Leist (1873–1945), David Davies (1864–1939), Will Ashton (1881–1963), and Henry Fullwood (Hammer 41).Most of the Melbourne Savage Club artist members were active in the London Savage Club. On one occasion, in November 1908, Roberts, with fellow artist MacKennal in the Chair, attended the Australian Artists’ Dinner held there. This event attracted twenty-five expatriate Australian artists, all residing in London at the time (McQueen 532).These London arts clubs had a significant influence on the expatriate Australian artists for they became the “glue” that held them together whilst abroad. Although some artists travelled abroad specifically to take up places at the Royal Academy School or the Slade School, only a minority of artists arriving in London from Australia and other British colonies were offered positions at these prestigious schools. Many artists travelled to “try their luck.” The arts clubs of London, whilst similarly discerning in their membership criteria, generally offered a visiting “brother-of-the-brush” a warm welcome as a professional courtesy. They featured the familiar rollicking all-male “Smoke Nights” a feature of the Melbourne Savage Club. With a greater “artist” membership than the clubs in Australia, expatriate artists were not only able to catch up with their friends from Australia, but also they could associate with England’s finest and most progressive artists in a familiar congenial environment. The clubs were a “home away from home” and described by Underhill as, “an artistic Earl’s Court” (Underhill 99). Most importantly, the clubs were a centre for discourse, arguably even more so than were the teaching academies. Britain’s leading modernist artists were members of the Chelsea Arts Club and the New English Arts Club and mixed freely with the visiting Australian artists.Many Australian artists, such as Miles Evergood and George Bell (1878–1966), held anti-academic views similar to English club members and embraced the new artistic trends, which they would bring back to Australia. Streeton had no illusions about the relative worth of the famed institutions and the exhibitions held by clubs such as the New English. Writing to Roberts before he joins him in London, he describes the Royal Academy as having, “an inartistic atmosphere” and claims he “hasn’t the least desire to go again” (Streeton 77). His preference lay with a concurrent “International Exhibition”, which featured works by Rodin, Whistler, Condor, Degas, and others who were setting the pace rather than merely continuing the academic traditions.Architect Hardy Wilson (1881–1955) served as secretary of The Chelsea Arts Club. When he returned to Australia he brought back with him a number of British works by Streeton and Lambert for an exhibition at the Guild Hall Melbourne (Underhill 92). Artists and Bohemians, a history of the Chelsea Arts Club, makes special reference of its world-wide contacts and singles out many of its prominent Australian members for specific mention including; Sir John William (Will) Ashton OBE, later Director of the Art Gallery of New South Wales, and Will Dyson, whose illustrious career as an Australian war artist was described in some detail. Dyson’s popularity led to his later appointment as Chairman of the Chelsea Arts Club where he initiated an ambitious rebuilding program, improving staff accommodation, refurbishing the members’ areas, and adding five bedrooms for visiting members (Bross 87-90).Whilst the influence of travel abroad on Australian artists has been noted, the importance of the London Clubs has not been fully explored. These clubs offered artists a space where they felt “at home” and a familiar environment whilst they were abroad. The clubs functioned as a meeting space where they could engage in a stimulating artistic environment and gain introductions to leading figures in the art world. For those artists who chose England, London’s arts clubs played a large role, for it was in these establishments that they discussed, exhibited, shared, and met with their English counterparts. The club environment in London had a significant impact on male Australian artists as it offered a space where they were integrated into the English art world which enhanced their experience whilst abroad and influenced the direction of their art.ReferencesCorbett, David Peters, and Lara Perry, eds. English Art, 1860–1914: Modern Artists and Identity. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000.Croll, Robert Henderson. Tom Roberts: Father of Australian Landscape Painting. Melbourne: Robertson & Mullens, 1935.Cross, Tom. 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"Bohemia in Melbourne: An Investigation of the Writer Marcus Clarke and Four Artistic Clubs during the Late 1860s – 1901.” PhD thesis. Melbourne: University of Melbourne, 2009.Melbourne Savage Club. Secretary. Minute Book: Melbourne Savage Club. Club Minutes (General Committee). Melbourne: Savage Archives.Mulvaney, Derek John, and J.H. Calaby. So Much That Is New: Baldwin Spencer, 1860–1929, a Biography. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Press, 1985.Smith, Bernard, Terry Smith, and Christopher Heathcote. Australian Painting, 1788–2000. 4th ed. South Melbourne, Vic.: Oxford University Press, 2001.Streeton, Arthur, et al. Smike to Bulldog: Letters from Sir Arthur Streeton to Tom Roberts. Sydney: Ure Smith, 1946.Streeton, Arthur, ed. Letters from Smike: The Letters of Arthur Streeton, 1890–1943. Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1989.Thornton, Alfred, and New English Art Club. Fifty Years of the New English Art Club, 1886–1935. 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When the National Trust was established in 1895 its founders, Canon Rawnsley, Sir Robert Hunter and Octavia Hill, were, as Cannadine notes, “primarily concerned with preserving open spaces of outstanding natural beauty which were threatened with development or spoliation.” This was because, like Ruskin, Morris and “many of their contemporaries, they believed that the essence of Englishness was to be found in the fields and hedgerows, not in the suburbs and slums” (Cannadine 227). It was important to protect these sites of beauty and historical interest from development not only for what they were but for what they purportedly represented—an irreplaceable repository of the nation’s “spiritual values”, and thus a vital antidote to the “base materialism” of the day. G.M. Trevelyan, who I am quoting here, noted in two pieces written on behalf of the Trust in the 1920s and 30s, that the “inexorable rise of bricks and mortar” and the “full development of motor traffic” were laying waste to the English countryside. In the face of this assault on England’s heartland, the National Trust provided “an ark of refuge” safeguarding the nation’s cherished physical heritage and preserving its human cargo from the rising waters of materialism and despair (qtd. in Cannadine 231-2).Despite the extension of the road network and increasing private ownership of cars (up from 200,000 registrations in 1918 to “well over one million” in 1930), physical distance and economic hardship denied the majority of the urban population access to the countryside (Taylor 217). For the urban working classes recently or distantly displaced from the land, the dream of a return to rural roots was never more than a fantasy. Ford Madox Ford observed that “the poor and working classes of the towns never really go back” (Ford 58).Through the later nineteenth century the rural nostalgia once most prevalent among the working classes was increasingly noted as a feature of middle class sensibility. Better educated, with more leisure time and money at their disposal, these sentimental ruralists furnished a ready market for a new consumer phenomenon—the commodification of the English countryside and the packaging of the values it notionally embodied. As Valentine Cunningham observes, this was not always an edifying spectacle. By the late 1920s, “the terrible sounds of ‘Ye Olde England’ can already be heard, just off-stage, knocking together its thatched wayside stall where plastic pixies, reproduction beer-mugs, relics of Shakespeare and corn-dollies would soon be on sale” (Cunningham 229). Alongside the standard tourist tat, and the fiction and poetry that romanticised the rural world, a new kind of travel writing emerged around the turn of the century. Through an analysis of early-twentieth century notions of Englishness, this paper considers how the north struggled to find a place in H.V. Morton’s In Search of England (1927).In Haunts of Ancient Peace (1901), the Poet Laureate, Alfred Austin, described a journey through “Old England” as a cultural pilgrimage in quest of surviving vestiges of the nation’s essential identity, “or so much of it as is left” (Austin 18). Austin’s was an early example of what had, by the 1920s and 30s become a “boom market … in books about the national character, traditions and antiquities, usually to be found in the country” (Wiener 73). Longmans began its “English Heritage” series in 1929, introduced by the Prime Minister, Stanley Baldwin, with volumes on “English humour, folk song and dance, the public school, the parish church, [and] wild life”. A year later Batsford launched its series of books on “English Life” with volumes featuring “the countryside, Old English household life, inns, villages, and cottages” (Wiener 73). There was an outpouring of books with an overtly conservationist agenda celebrating journeys through or periods of residence in the countryside, many of them written by “soldiers like Henry Williamson and Edmund Blunden, who returned from the First War determined to preserve the rural England they’d known” (Cunningham 229; Blunden, Face, England; Roberts, Pilgrim, Gone ; Williamson). In turn, these books engendered an efflorescence of critical analyses of the construction of England (Hamilton; Haddow; Keith; Cavaliero; Gervais; Giles and Middleton; Westall and Gardiner).By the 1920s it was clear that a great many people thought they knew what England was, where it might be found, and if threatened, which parts of it needed to be rescued in order to safeguard the survival of its essential identity. By the same point, there were large numbers who felt, in Patrick Wright’s words, that “Some areas of the nation had been lost forever and in these no one should expect to find the traditional nation at all” (Wright 87).A key guide to the nation’s sacred sites in this period, an inventory of their relics, and an illustration of how its lost regions might be rescued for or erased from its cultural map, was provided in H.V. Morton’s In Search of England (1927). Initially published as a series of articles in the Daily Express in 1926, In Search of England went through nine editions in the two and a half years after its appearance in book form in 1927. With sales in excess of a million copies, as John Brannigan notes, the book went through a further twenty editions by 1943, and has remained continuously in print since (Brannigan).In his introduction Morton proposes In Search of England is simply “the record of a motor-car journey round England … written without deliberation by the roadside, on farmyard walls, in cathedrals, in little churchyards, on the washstands of country inns, and in many another inconvenient place” (Morton vii). As C.R. Perry notes, “This is a happy image, but also a misleading one” (Perry 434) for there was nothing arbitrary about Morton’s progress. Even a cursory glance at the map of his journey confirms, the England that Morton went in search of was overwhelmingly rural or coastal, and embodied in the historic villages and ancient towns of the Midlands or South.Morton’s biographer, Michael Bartholomew suggests that the “nodal points” of Morton’s journey are the “cathedral cities” (Bartholomew 105).Despite claims to the contrary, his book was written with deliberation and according to a specific cultural objective. Morton’s purpose was not to discover his homeland but to confirm a vision that he and millions of others cherished. He was not in search of England so much as reassuring himself and his readers that in spite of the depredations of the factory and the motor vehicle, it was still out there. These aims determined Morton’s journey; how long he spent in differing parts, what he recorded, and how he presented landscapes, buildings, people and material culture.Morton’s determination to celebrate England as rural and ancient needed to negotiate the journey north into an industrial landscape better known for its manufacturing cities, mining and mill towns, and the densely packed streets of the poor and working classes. Unable to either avoid or ignore this north, Morton needed to settle upon a strategy of passing through it without disturbing his vision of the rural idyll. Narratively, Morton’s touring through the south and west of the country is conducted at a gentle pace. In my 1930 edition of the text, it takes 185 of the book’s 280 pages to bring him from London via the South Coast, Cornwall, the Cotswolds and the Welsh marches, to Chester. The instant Morton crosses the Lancashire border, his bull-nosed Morris accelerates through the extensive northern counties in a mere thirty pages: Warrington to Carlisle (with a side trip to Gretna Green), Carlisle to Durham, and Durham to Lincoln. The final sixty-five pages return to the more leisurely pace of the south and west through Norfolk and the East Midlands, before the journey is completed in an unnamed village somewhere between Stratford upon Avon and Warwick. Morton spends 89 per cent of the text in the South and Midlands (66 per cent and 23 per cent respectively) with only 11 per cent given over to his time in the north.If, as Genette has pointed out, narrative deceleration results in the descriptive pause, it is no coincidence that this is the recurring set piece of Morton’s treatment of the south and west as opposed to the north. His explorations take dwelling moments on river banks and hill tops, in cathedral closes and castle ruins to honour the genius loci and imagine earlier times. On Plymouth Hoe he sees, in his mind’s eye, Sir Walter Raleigh’s fleet set sail to take on the Armada; at Tintagel it is Arthur, wild and Celtic, scaling the cliffs, spear in hand; at Buckler’s Hard amid the rotting slipways he imagines the “stout oak-built ships which helped to found the British Empire”, setting out on their journeys of conquest (Morton 39). At the other extreme, Genette observes, that narrative acceleration produces ellipsis, where details are omitted in order to render a more compact and striking expression. It is the principle of ellipsis, of selective omission, which compresses the geography of Morton’s journey through the north with the effect of shaping reader experiences. Morton hurries past the north’s industrial areas—shuddering at the sight of smoke or chimneys and averting his gaze from factory and slum.As he crosses the border from Cheshire into Lancashire, Morton reflects that “the traveller enters Industrial England”—not that you would know it from his account (Morton 185). Heading north towards the Lake District, he steers a determined path between “red smoke stacks” rising on one side and an “ominous grey haze” on the other, holding to a narrow corridor of rural land where, to his relief, he observes men “raking hay in a field within gunshot of factory chimneys” (Morton 185-6). These redolent, though isolated, farmhands are of greater cultural moment than the citadels of industry towering on either side of them. While the chimneys might symbolise the nation’s economic potency, the farmhands embody the survival of its essential cultural and moral qualities. In an allusion to the Israelites’ passage through the Red Sea from the Book of Exodus, the land that the workers tend holds back the polluted tide of industry, furnishing relief from the factory and the slum, granting Morton safe passage through the perils of modernity and into the Promised Land–or at least the Lake District. In Morton’s view this green belt is not only more essentially English than trade and industry, it is also expresses a nobler and more authentic Englishness.The “great industrial new-rich cities of northern England—vast and mighty as they are,” Morton observes, “fall into perspective as mere black specks against the mighty background of history and the great green expanse of fine country which is the real North of England” (Morton 208). Thus, the rural land between Manchester and Liverpool expands into a sea of green as the great cities shrink on the horizon, and the north is returned to its origins.What Morton cannot speed past or ignore, what he is compelled or chooses to confront, he transforms, through the agency of history, into something that he and England can bear to own. Tempted into Wigan by its reputation as a comic nowhere-land, a place whose name conjured a thousand music hall gags, Morton confesses that he had expected to find there another kind of cliché, “the apex of the world’s pyramid of gloom … dreary streets and stagnant canals and white-faced Wigonians dragging their weary steps along dull streets haunted by the horror of the place in which they are condemned to live” (Morton 187).In the process of naming what he dreads, Morton does not describe Wigan: he exorcises his deepest fears about what it might hold and offers an incantation intended to hold them at bay. He “discovers” Wigan is not the industrial slum but “a place which still bears all the signs of an old-fashioned country town” (Morton 188). Morton makes no effort to describe Wigan as it is, any more than he describes the north as a whole: he simply overlays them with a vision of them as they should be—he invents the Wigan and the north that he and England need.Having surveyed parks and gardens, historical monuments and the half-timbered mock-Tudor High Street, Morton returns to his car and the road where, with an audible sigh of relief, he finds: “Within five minutes of notorious Wigan we were in the depth of the country,” and that “on either side were fields in which men were making hay” (Morton 189).In little more than three pages he passes from one set of haymakers, south of town, to another on its north. The green world has all but smoothed over the industrial eyesore, and the reader, carefully chaperoned by Morton, can pass on to the Lake District having barely glimpsed the realities of industry and urbanism, reassured that if this is the worst that the north has to show then the rural heartland and the essential identity it sustains are safe. Paradoxically, instead of invalidating his account, Morton’s self-evident exclusions and omissions seem only to have fuelled its popularity.For readers of the Daily Express in the months leading up to and immediately after the General Strike of 1926, the myth of England that Morton proffered, of an unspoilt village where old values and traditional hierarchies still held true, was preferable to the violently polarised urban battlefields that the strike had revealed. As the century progressed and the nation suffered depression, war, and a steady decline in its international standing, as industry, suburban sprawl and the irresistible spread of motorways and traffic blighted the land, Morton’s England offered an imagined refuge, a real England that somehow, magically resisted the march of time.Yet if it was Morton’s triumph to provide England with a vision of its ideal spiritual home, it was his tragedy that this portrait of it hastened the devastation of the cultural survivals he celebrated and sought to preserve: “Even as the sense of idyll and peace was maintained, the forces pulling in another direction had to be acknowledged” (Taylor 74).In his introduction to the 1930 edition of In Search of England Morton approvingly acknowledged that a new enthusiasm for the nation’s history and heritage was abroad and that “never before have so many people been searching for England.” In the next sentence he goes on to laud the “remarkable system of motor-coach services which now penetrates every part of the country [and] has thrown open to ordinary people regions which even after the coming of the railways were remote and inaccessible” (Morton vii).Astonishingly, as the waiting charabancs roared their engines and the village greens of England enjoyed the last hours of their tranquillity, Morton somehow failed to make the obvious connection between these unique cultural and social phenomena or take any measure of their potential consequences. 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