This 1939 letter from the National Joint Committee for Spanish Relief (Perthshire Branch), makes it clear just how much of a national issue the Spanish Civil War was in Britain. The letter was sent on 15th February 1939, in the last stages of the war – by which point the welfare of refugees from Spain seems to have been the main public concern (presumably it was clear by this stage that the Republicans were not going to win).
The groups involved in this Spanish Fiesta provide a good snapshot of 1930s British public/civic culture – the Masons, the Co-operative Women’s Guild, the Practical Psychology Club, the N.U.R. (National Union of Railwaymen) Women’s Guild, the Theosophical Society, the Congregational Church, and the Soroptimist Club.
I am particularly taken with this: A VERY SPECIAL FEATURE OF THE FIESTA WILL BE THE BUILDING OF A CAIRN OF TINS OF MILK FOR THE SPANISH BABIES. PLEASE COME AND HELP BUILD IT. A nice Scottish twist on a broader humanitarian issue – I wonder if the milk-tin cairn was a success…
Continue reading Spanish Fiesta, Perth, 4th March 1939
It’s not quite the anniversary of this (fake) love letter to my grandmother, but it’s close enough that I can’t resist sharing it. It was sent to her (at her home address in Birmingham) in April 1934, towards the end of her first year in Oxford – perhaps during the Easter holidays. I suspect that its author may have been Janet Millar (later Henderson) – Elizabeth’s best-friend from her schooldays (and known to my grandmother as “Blobs” throughout her life). Janet was from Glasgow (from where the letter is postmarked) – though I have no idea about Gallow Hill in Lanarkshire, Janet’s visit to which my grandmother was clearly meant to be envious about/impressed by!
Anyway, I think it’s wonderful – and too good to languish in obscurity any longer (transcript below).
Continue reading Love Letter, Very Private
The Cadburys were Quakers and pacifists – and cared enough about respect for (and the study of) other cultures and religions to fund a library where the oldest known fragments of the Qur’an were found in 2015.
The letters between Edward Cadbury and my grandmother that I have read also make it clear that the Cadburys cared deeply about the fate of refugees in the 1930s – giving money to help those fleeing, first, from the Spanish Civil War, and then from Germany and Czechoslovakia. Edward Cadbury also gave my grandmother, Elizabeth, the money with which she first travelled to Spain to work with refugee children.
This letter (transcript below), from 1939, captures the personal interest that Edward Cadbury took in refugees, and the financial help that he provided; as well as asking after the refugees that Elizabeth was currently housing (and sending them a tin of cocoa!), he makes reference to a number of refugees that he was involved in housing in Birmingham (and the difficulties in getting them to the UK – presumably because of bureaucratic barriers). It is interesting that Edward also draws Elizabeth’s attention to some “semi-Fascist publications”, published, “probably”, by an organisation connected with the Daily Express. Plus ça change…
Continue reading The true meaning of Cadbury
On the 21st May 1935 the Oxford Union was due to debate the “inevitability of progress” with C. E. M. Joad (philosopher, Fabian and anti-capitalist – whose career was ultimately ended by an unpaid train fare), St. John Ervine (an Irish playwright whose fame seems to chiefly rest on the fact that he was standing next to suffragette Emily Davison before she threw herself under the king’s horse at the 1913 Derby), and Ronald Knox (Catholic priest and writer of detective fiction).
The day before, Elizabeth received this letter from Ian (surname unknown), sending her tickets for the debate – and at the same time informing her that he was off to vote against her membership of the Union. How charming…
This letter makes me fizz with anger: how dare this man – whoever he was – write to my grandmother like this. I obviously don’t know the grounds on which Ian planned to vote against Elizabeth’s membership of the union. Politics presumably, but I can’t help but feel that the whole thing smacks of patronising misogyny (down to the final love and kisses).
Is this what she had to take at every turn as a woman who was interested in politics and wanted to be taken seriously at Oxford in the 1930s? Elizabeth was at least as clever as Frank (if not cleverer – and she was certainly more diplomatic), and her political activism and passion for changing the world certainly rivalled his. And yet, after the Second World War, their focus was on Frank’s education and career and – although she was politically active her whole life, and achieved a whole raft of things – she never had a serious career in the way that he did (despite her early educational privilege). Attitudes like this must have had something to do with that – just one more woman lost among successive generations of Shakespeare’s sisters.
Here it is, from 20th May 1936, with transcript below – along with notices of various other Oxford Union debates from Elizabeth’s time at the university (apologies for blurry images).
Continue reading The inevitability of sexism at the Oxford Union, 1936
The announcement of the German-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact (the Molotov–Ribbentrop Pact) on 23rd August 1939, only a week before Germany’s invasion of Poland, and Britain’s declaration of war on Germany, was a key event in the lead up to the Second World War.
This letter, written by Frank on the evening that the pact was announced (a Wednesday), captures some of the intensity of – and speed at which events were moving at – this time. It is written from Newcastle on International Brigade notepaper (Frank was working for the north-east branch of an International Brigade committee at the time), and was sent to Elizabeth – apparently still at Ashintully (“languishing in idleness”, according to Frank). Frank and Elizabeth married almost immediately after the war broke out – so within a few weeks of this letter.
I don’t know what or who the “S. T. D.” that Frank is awaiting a reply from refers to (any pointers gratefully received) – nor who Jack Sword (?) and the Bickfords are.
Transcript below, along with a copy of the invitation to their Diamond Wedding party – they eloped, so this is the closest there was to any kind of wedding announcement.
Continue reading 23rd August 1939, German-Soviet Pact announced
Seventy-nine years ago, on 1st February 1938, Frank was issued with this ID card (Carnet d’Identitat) for the Generalatit de Catalunya, the government of Catalonia. The Catalonian text states (roughly): Frank Knowles Girling serves in this Comissariat, as editor of English bulletins. 1st February 1938.
A few months later, in his own account of what had brought him to Spain, and his activities while there (see Frank’s International Brigade personnel file in the Comintern Archives: 1), Frank would write of his work as a translator for the Generalatit, and his growing disillusionment with the Catalonian government:
Having by this time learnt Spanish and a little Catalan came to Barcelona at the end of January hoping to be able to join the I.B. and serve usefully the cause. Being offered a post in the Propaganda Office of the Generalitat I accepted it thinking that as a translator I might be more useful than as a soldier. Now convinced of the inefficiency of the Cat. Government and in particularly of the Esquerra Republicana I do not want to continue and no other work offering I shall go back to England to stimulate the propaganda for Spain.
His account of coming to Barcelona at the end of January would fit with the issuing of this card on 1st February – and his description of himself as a “translator” fits roughly with his description on the card as an “editor”, although I still don’t really know what his activities were at this time (I have a feeling that he ended up broadcasting on the radio at some point). The Generalitat and the Republican Left of Catalonia (the Esquerra Republicana that Frank talks about) were in internal turmoil throughout the Spanish Civil War (as described by George Orwell in Homage to Catalonia), with numerous groups and factions competing for control – I don’t pretend to understand the intricacies of all this, but perhaps his disillusionment was in some part linked with his allegiance to a particular faction, or perhaps it was due to frustration at the overall factionalism in the face of ongoing assault from Franco’s forces.
Holocaust Remembrance Day made me think of the heartbreaking profiles of potential refugees that I had seen among my grandmother’s papers. I don’t want to deify my grandparents – they were by no means perfect, but I do think that they generally tried to do their best (according to their belief in what “best” might mean). This letter to my grandmother, asking her to take these Jewish refugees from Germany, is dated June 1939; I don’t know if she refused for some reason (unthinkable, but possible I suppose), or if events intervened (the war broke out three months later) – but Max Gerhard Löwenberg (/Loewenberg) was sent to Auschwitz in March 1943 and was killed there along with his parents.
From the brief information I can find online, it seems that Ludwig Israel Weikersheimer did manage to leave Germany in time, and later became a naturalised British citizen and changed his name to Leslie Wallen.