Thanks Steve.  This is really interesting & greatly bolsters a Verdenal
connection to TWL.  When I first read The Golden Bough, I was struck by all
the references to the Hittite religion of ancient Turkey (something about
which I knew little if anything).


	-----Original Message-----
	From:	[log in to unmask] [SMTP:[log in to unmask]]
	Sent:	Tuesday, March 27, 2001 6:06 PM
	To:	[log in to unmask]
	Subject:	Re: Stetson in The Waste Land

	Rick wrote:

	> > Donald Childs, "Stetson in The Waste Land," Essays in
Criticism," April,
	>  > 1988.
	>  > 
	>  > Regards,
	>  >    Rick Parker 

	And Pat wrote:  

	>  What does he say in this regard, exactly? Or how does he answer
	>  of where he got the information?
	>  pat

	Pat: You asked what Childs said about Gallipoli. I've scanned in
	pages from the article as well as some of the footnotes. I hope this

	information is of use.

	-- Steve --

	>From "Stetson in The Waste Land" by Donald J. Childs, Essays in
	April 1988, p 131-148. I've scanned in the footnotes that appear
within the 
	quoted passages, and have included the footnotes at the end of this

	--  beginning of quoted passages --

	   That Eliot should have associated the Australians with the
fighting in the 
	Dardanelles is not surprising. The newspapers of 1915 were full of
	about the incredible fortitude, ingenuity, and heroism of the Anzac
	The headlines in The Times from April 25th, 1915 (the day the
invasion of the 
	Gallipoli peninsula began), to January of 1916 (when the Allies
evacuated the 
	beaches) heaped praise upon the Australians. Typical headlines ran
	follows: `At grips with the Turks: heroic Australians', `Making
history in 
	the Straits: the famous charge of the Australians: terror of the
	and `The Gallipoli landing: heroism at the six beaches' . 21

	   London's celebration on April 25th, 1916, of the first
anniversary of the 
	invasion of Gallipoli reinforced the British tendency to associate
	Australian soldiers with Gallipoli. On this day, 2,000 Anzac troops
(and only 
	Anzac troops) marched through the streets of London-across Waterloo
	along the Strand to Charing Cross, and then along Whitehall to
	Abbey -encouraged by the cheers of great crowds lining the streets.
The Times 
	reported the next day that `At quarter past ten a thousand of the
	troops came swinging over Waterloo Bridge in column of four'. The
crowds were 
	greater than any `since the Coronation of King George'. Along the
way, `there 
	were scenes of enthusiasm such as no previous day during the war had

	witnessed . . . the songs of the soldiers were caught up and
repeated'. Are 
	the marching soldiers and the crowds of spectators linked to the
	preceding the introduction of Stetson: `A crowd flowed over London
Bridge, so 
	many,/I had not thought death had undone so many' (CPP 62)? Are the
	soldiers the source of the mysterious message from Sydney,
Australia? And was 
	the Australian hat a part of the experience? The Manchester Guardian
	to the hats, implying that the Anzac headgear was itself worth
	`They [the Anzacs] have been idolised with a cheery
whole-heartedness that 
	would have been striking [even] if Londoners had never seen an
	hat or a New Zealand slouch before'. 22 In the system of
signification I am 
	tracing, then, Stetson, Mrs. Porter, and all things Australian lead

	   Why? Because reference to Gallipoli is Eliot's way of referring
to Jean 
	Verdenal . . .

	[Verdenal's military citation for heroism and self-sacrifice]
probably refers 
	to the aftermath of the First Battle of Krithia on April 28th: a
	fought by the combined Allied force. The French certainly played
their part, 
	advancing half a mile (no mean feat in trench warfare) after a day
of heavy 
	fighting. The British, Anzacs, and French spent the next two days 
	straightening the line and sorting out the confused battalions. The
	were tended on the night of April 28th, during which a storm blew in
to make 
	the loading and unloading of ships very difficult, for the piers and
	were still under construction. It was probably this battle and this
	that provided the context for Verdenal's heroism.
	   On May 1st, however, the Turkish forces began an assault upon the
	at 10 pm. The bombardment and assault were described by one observer
as `hell 
	let loose upon earth'. 28 The French forces apparently broke under
	relentless attack, and were overrun by the Turks until Allied
	arrived to fill the breach in the trenches. The Allies mounted a 
	counter-attack at 10 am on May 2nd, but by evening the Turks and
Allies were 
	back in their original trenches. In the end, the French `suffered
over 2,000 
	casualties'. 29 In fact, French grave-diggers could not bury all
those who 
	had fallen: `The French, finding the ground. too hard, or perhaps
the task 
	too great, slung some bodies over the cliffs into the swift-flowing 
	Dardanelles'. 30 One of the casualties, I assume, and perhaps one of
	thrown into the Dardanelles, was Jean Verdenal, for another entry in
	latter's war record indicates that he was `Killed by the enemy on
the 2nd May 
	1915 in the Dardanelles'.

	   Some such information as this would presumably have been
available to 
	Eliot either through conversations with Gallipoli veterans or
	conversations with friends of Verdenal such as Schlemmer. In any
event, we 
	know that Eliot had learned of Verdenal's death by January, 1916. 31
As early 
	as the spring of 1916, then (with the first celebration of Anzac Day

	following soon after the news of Verdenal's death), we find the
	of a conjunction in Eliot's experience of Gallipoli, Australia, and
	By 1921, I suggest, the connection in Eliot's mind between Jean
Verdenal and 
	Gallipoli, on the one hand, and between Stetson and Mrs. Porter and 
	Gallipoli, on the other, was strong enough to make Verdenal the
	referent of the Australian images in The Waste Land. But what
brought the 
	Australians and the Dardanelles Campaign back to mind in 1921 as
	actually began to compose the poem?

	   In general, the Dardanelles Campaign became infamous as an
example of 
	World War I folly. The ill-conceived assault was a disaster. The
	achieve control of the Dardanelles straits and so aid Russia by
knocking the 
	Turks out of the war -was never close to being realized, and
casualty figures 
	were staggering:

	In the army's endeavour to reach the narrows over four hundred
	British troops were landed on the peninsula; over two hundred
thousand of 
	these troops became casualties . . . The exertions of these troops
	assisted by a French army -chiefly consisting of African
	seventy-nine thousand men, more than half of whom became casualties.
In the 
	attempt to achieve this five-mile advance the Allies flung nearly
half a 
	million men on the Peninsula, and sustained over a quarter of a
	casualties. At the end of eight months they were not in occupation
of a 
	single position of the least tactical importance; and the survivors
	hazardously withdrawn. 32

	The waste of life at Gallipoli, therefore, was a part of everyone's
memory of 
	the war - and so a poem pretending to be rooted in the collapse of
	civilization might well look back to Gallipoli for one of its
`broken images'.

	   For Eliot, of course, Gallipoli was the action in which his
friend had 
	died -and so there was always an intimate personal dimension to his
	of the futility of war. Perhaps the fact that Anzac Day was April
25th was 
	one of the reasons why `April is the cruellest month'. If, as seems
	Eliot did not know the exact date of Verdenal's death, he might well
	associated it with the beginning of the invasion of Gallipoli. Anzac
	1921, may have been enough of a spur to his memory and desire to
launch into 
	The Waste Land the Australian images that lead to Gallipoli and
	Valerie Eliot, however, has revealed that Eliot was thinking about
the long 
	poem that would become The Waste Land as early as 1919. And in the
spring of 
	1919, there was an Anzac Day celebration that Eliot may well have
	The celebration of 1919 was special, for it was London's last chance
	salute the Anzac troops before they returned to New Zealand and
	The parade was even bigger than the one in 1916. Once more, of
course, the 
	Anzac headgear caught everyone's eye. After noting that the
soldiers' fixed 
	bayonettes added a picturesque touch to the parade, The Times added
that `So 
	undoubtedly did their slouch hats': 

	It is an extraordinarily romantic headdress. If it lacks a little,
	of formal military smartness it has dashing, almost buccaneering,
air which 
	is all its own. To those who live in cities there is something of
the call of 
	the wild about it; it suggests great empty spaces, a free life under
	skies and in young countries. And the men under the big hats looked 
	gorgeously hard and fit.

	  Eliot was in London in 1919, beginning his third year of
employment in the 
	Colonial and Foreign Department of Lloyd's Bank, working in the
office at 17 
	Cornhill. On Friday, April 25th, 5,000 Anzac troops paraded through
London to 
	celebrate for the last time the Anzac contribution to the war
effort. They 
	paraded past Australia House and then up Queen Victoria Street,
marching past 
	the Lord Mayor at the Mansion House before proceeding around the
	of Queen Victoria Street, King William Street, Lombard Street,
Cornhill, and 
	Threadneedle Street and marching away up Princes Street. Eliot was
working in 
	this very area, not far from the Mansion House and the Royal
	points for the parade's climax. The Times reported events as

	The City of London clearly did not intend that business should come
	pleasure yesterday - the pleasure of welcoming the Australians. The
	were due at the Mansion House at 11.30, and long before that the
	were almost solid with people, only a tiny little streamlet of those
	bent on business being able to pass slowly along. Every window was
full, and 
	there was not an inch of space left on the roof of the Royal

	At about 11 there was a sound of whirring and humming, and two big
	came from over St. Paul's and turned slowly and impressively over
the Mansion 
	House. A few minutes later came four more flying low over the Royal
	and from that time onward the air was alive with planes. The crowd
	gazing upwards, with necks permanently craned, at various exciting
feats of 
	airmanship. 33

	   Given the parade route, and given the disruption to the business
in the 
	area caused by it, there is every chance that Eliot knew of it or
watched it 
	himself - recalling Gallipoli and Verdenal, and associating them
	with the famous Australian slouch hat.

	--  end of quoted passages --

	Footnotes 17 - 36

	17 C. M. Bowra, The Creative Experiment (1949), p. 182.

	18 Accounts of the Australians in Egypt stress the problems-4
	with prostitutes. See Bean, p. 128, and Gammage, p. 37. -

	19 Bowra, p. 182.

	20 John Brophy and Eric Partridge, The Long Trail: What the .
	British Soldier Sang and Said in The Great War of 1914-18,
	rev. ed. (1931; repr. New York, 1965), p. 40.

	21 The Times [London], 19 May 1915, p. 7; 22 May 1915, p. 7; 27 May
1915, p. 

	22 The Times [London], 26 April 1916, p. 2; Manchester Guardian, 26
	1916, p. 4. 

	23 T. S. Eliot, `A Commentary', Criterion, xiii (April 1934), p,

	24 James E. Miller, Jr., T. S. Eliot's Personal Waste Land Exorcism
of the 
	Demons (University Park, Pennsylvania, and London, 1977), p. 77. 

	25 T. S. Eliot, The Idea of a Christian Society (1939), p. 103. 

	26 See George Watson, `Quest for a Frenchman', Sewanee Review, lxxiv
	pp. 465-75. 

	27 Concerning Verdenal's war record, see Watson, p. 467. 

	28 Sir Ian Hamilton, Gallipoli Diary (1920), vol. i, p. 187. 

	29 Robert R. James, Gallipoli (1965), pp. 146-47. 

	30 Eric W. Bush, Gallipoli (1975), p. 160. 

	31 T. S. Eliot, letter to Conrad Aiken (10 January 1916), cited in
The Waste 
	Land: A Facsimile and Transcript, ed. Valerie Eliot (1971), p. x. 

	32 John North, Gallipoli: The Fading Vision (1936), p. 43. 

	33 The Times [London], 26 April 1919, p. 7. 

	34 See John Peter, `A New Interpretation of The Waste Land', E in C,
	(1969), pp. 140-75. 

	35 The Times [London], 25 Feb. 1921, p. 9. 

	36 Kristian Smidt, The Importance of Recognition: Six Chapters on T.
S. Eliot 
	(Troms0 1973), p. 21.