MY DEAR CHARLES,--In the little village I'm thinking of it is a sight
on no account to be missed to see the same old British Tommy shopping
by telepathy. He doesn't speak their language and they don't speak
his, and when the article required is not in the window or on the
counter to be indicated by the thumb, a deadlock would appear to be
inevitable. Our Master Thomas, however, never did realise what a
deadlock is; he goes on till he gets what he wants. So you see them in
pairs, taking up a stolid position at the counter, obstinately stating
and re-stating their demands in a composite language of which the
foreign element is almost negligible, until the merchant or his wife
gives in and produces the article required. I know one simple soldier
who managed to reconcile himself to the confirmed habit amongst the
French people of addressing each other in the French language, but
could never understand their addressing horses and dogs in such an
unintelligible tongue. "If you want a dog to come 'ere, why not say
'Come 'ere!' and 'ave done with it?" Men may learn strange lingoes to
humour their fellow-men, but how can any dog be expected to understand
"_Viens ici_"?
Three years and some odd months have not changed this point of view;
and now for Thomas to find himself in Italy is only to discover
another lot of unfortunate people who cannot understand or make
themselves understood. A little thing like that, however, is not going
to be allowed to stand between friends; already new words and phrases
are being coined, mutually acceptable to both parties.
The first sign I saw of our arrival in this country was a derelict
mess-tin on a country station platform; at the next station I saw
a derelict rifle; at the next a whole derelict kit, and lastly a
complete-in-all-parts derelict soldier. He was surrounded by a small
crowd of native men, women and children, anxious to show their
appreciation of his nation by assisting himself. They were doing their
utmost to ascertain his needs; they were trying him with slices of
bread, a _fiasco_ of chianti, words of intense admiration, flowers. It
was none of these things he wanted; he had only missed his train and
wanted to know what to do about it. But how were they to know that?
When a Latin misses his train he doesn't sit down stolidly and think
slowly.
I went to his aid. From the manner in which he rose to salute me they
guessed that I was the Commander-in-Chief of all the English, and
were for giving me an ovation. Thomas explained his trouble to me in
half-a-dozen words; I solved it for him in even fewer. Thomas and I
quite understood each other, and there was no want of sympathy and
fellow-feeling between us. To the small crowd, however, this was the
extreme of brutal curtness. They now thought I was of the English
_carabinieri_, and that Thomas was being led off to his execution.
They were visibly cowed.
But the situation is not so simple and clearly defined as it was in
the first place. In the old days either we were English and they
weren't, or they were French and we weren't. There was no _tertium
quid_. Now things are more complicated. As Thomas and I stood on the
platform, loving each other silently and unostentatiously, a cheery
musical train of _poilus_ laboured into the station. There was nothing
silent or curt about them: they were all for bread and chianti and
flowers and ovations or any other old thing the crowd cared to offer.
Anything for a jest and to pass the time of day. Between the French
troops and the Italian crowd the matter was clear enough. Next-door
neighbours, molested by the same gang of roughs in the same brutal
manner, quite understand each other and the general situation when
they climb over each other's garden fences to put the matter to
rights. It was the presence of Thomas and myself which put such an
odd complexion on the whole affair.
Between ourselves and the crowd it was "Long live Italy!" and "Long
live England!" Between the _poilus_ and the crowd it was "Long live
Italy!" and "Long live France!" But between the _poilus_ and ourselves
there were no signs of any desire that England or France might endure
another day. And yet the crowd couldn't suppose that we didn't like
each other, for the knowing looks which passed between the hilarious
_poilu_ and slowly smiling Thomas clearly indicated some strange and
intimate relation. The crowd just didn't know what to make of it all
and what exactly was between these odd strangers, who seemed to have
everything in common but nothing to say to each other. For ourselves,
I think it made us feel homesick, and the home which Thomas and I felt
sick for (if you can believe it of us) was a certain estaminet we know
of and a cup of caffy-o-lay. It was at this moment I first realised
that, as between England and France, there are no longer such things
as foreigners; either we've become French or they've become English,
or else the two of us have combined into a new mixture which hasn't
yet got a name to it.
I think, though one doesn't talk much out here about glorious
alliances, some deep feelings were being felt all round. Diversion was
ultimately provided by the arrival of an imposing figure in dark blue,
with a lot of gilt about him. The _poilu_ put him down as an Italian
cavalry officer, and expressed the further hope that Italy would
endure for ever. The Italian crowd took him for something English, but
not being able to judge whether he was greater or less than myself,
contented themselves with an attitude of non-committal reverence all
round. Thomas informed me that he was a French Staff Officer and
displayed no further interest. Though I cannot tell you what in the
name of goodness he was doing in those parts, he was in fact an
American Naval Officer,
In short, Charles, alliances are things as wonderful to see as they
are magnificent to read about. I do, however, regard with something
approaching alarm the new language which will be evolved to put the
lot of us on complete speaking terms.
Yours ever, HENRY.
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[Illustration: "EXCUSE ME, BUT IS THERE AN AIR-RAID ON?"
"YES, I THINK SO."
"I'M MUCH OBLIGED. MY FRIEND'S UP FROM THE COUNTRY AND HE'S NEVER SEEN
ONE."]
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