Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,
And loss of things desired; all these must pass.
We are the happy legion, for we know
Time's but a golden wind that shakes the grass.
An excerpt from Absolution by Siegfried Sassoon
As the days shorten, the shadows lengthen and melancholy autumn begins to banish memories of halçyon summer days, thoughts inevitably turn for most to the season of remembrance, and perhaps specifically to the 'war to end all wars'.
To anyone even vaguely interested in the First World War or the poets and poetry it engendered, there is little more to be said about that great cultural icon, Siegfried Sassoon. Most will know of his Jewish ancestry, his early, slightly dissolute life as a 'fox-hunting man', his enlistment in the Royal Welch Fusiliers, his friendships with Robert Graves and Wilfred Owen, his sometimes reckless gallantry that coined him the nickname 'Mad Jack' and won him the Military Cross (the ribbon of which he threw into the Mersey in disgust en-route to Craiglockhart Hospital where he’d be sent for recuperation and regeneration) his letter to The Times, containing his 'Declaration of Wilful Defiance' -the public protest at the conduct of the war that nearly put him in front of the firing squad, his guilt at having 'deserted' the men under his command, to whom he was devoted, and his eventual return to France and the conflict he called the 'world’s worst wound', and of course the unparalleled poetry he penned as perhaps the most famous of war poets.
But far less is known about him after the war, and how he ended up being buried in the churchyard of St Andrew’s, Mells.
The roots of Sassoon’s spiritual odyssey that resulted in his conversion to Catholicism began perhaps with a reading of that other titan of Wessex life and letters, Thomas Hardy; most importantly his epic drama of the Napoleonic Wars, The Dynasts,which caused Sassoon to ask himself what he truly believed in. His poetry at this time reveals a burgeoning spiritual awareness and an increasingly burning desire to 'find and understand God,' and it is clear that he felt he was gradually being compelled to believe in an hitherto unreachable and incomprehensible higher presence. It seems to me that, after the unimaginable horrors of the trenches, Sassoon was seeking, above all else, some form spiritual peace and a 'still, small voice of calm.' a personal quest so beautifully yet enigmatically described in his 1958 poem, 'Lenten Illuminations'.
There are many crucial figures at the centre of Sassoon’s gradual acceptance of and conversion to the Catholic faith, perhaps most notably Mother Margaret Mary McFarlin, Mother Superior at the Convent of the Holy Assumption, in London’s Kensington, who first encouraged Sassoon to commence instruction at Downside Abbey, not far from Heytesbury, his home at the time.
Soon afterwards, Sassoon read one of Hilaire Belloc’s letters to Lady Katherine Asquith on the personal impact of a discovery of faith, and immediately felt certain that his own conversion was settled. It was Lady Asquith (née Horner, who tragically lost both her husband Raymond Asquith and her brother Edward on the Western Front) who introduced him to her private chaplain, Monsignor Ronald Knox, whose books and essays Sassoon read, and who he visited regularly at the Horner/Asquith home, Mells Manor, which together with Downside made this part of Somerset something of a Catholic stronghold, or at least a centre of learning.
Edward Horner’s memorial statue, designed by both Lutyens and Munnings, in St Andrew’s provides a stunning focal point to a visit to the church. Sassoon was so taken with and influenced by Knox’s brilliance, powers of communication and engaging blend of entertainment and scholarship, that he took his old friend and fellow war poet Edmund Blunden to meet him, just before Knox’s untimely death from cancer at the even then relatively young age of 69, and his burial in St Andrew’s churchyard
Sassoon was finally received into the Catholic faith at Downside Abbey in 1957, ending his long years of torture at the memory of what he and his fellow men had endured during and after the war. Sassoon had finally found peace, and a certain happiness, even playing a pivotal part in the Downside Abbey cricket team, alongside his Brother friends, despite by now being in his early 60s. Downside provided him for his remaining years with a communion and community, welcoming him unconditionally into the fold, demanding no self-justification or apology, and perhaps for the first time since the trenches he felt truly at home with his tribe.
But it was not all wine and roses from then on: undoubtedly, another reason why Sassoon became a Catholic was the practice of confession and expectation of absolution, so deeply troubled he was by his own sexual orientation. But also his personal despair at world events, especially the war in Korea and Anthony Eden’s misadventures in Suez, his growing realisation of the insignificance of man in the face of potential nuclear Armageddon, and his frustration and disillusion at man’s natural proclivity towards conflict all played their part. Nevertheless, Catholicism definitely improved Sassoon as a human being, rendering him less emotionally volatile and countering his innate tendency towards egocentricity, making him a considerably more open, compassionate and sympathetic man, who was a pleasure to be around.
Ten years after the culmination of his personal road to Rome, Sassoon celebrated his 80th, and last birthday and by January 1967 his cancer finally left him house and bed-bound, described by Hart-Davis as looking like 'a saint in a medieval painting'. He knew by now that death awaited him, but his new-found faith left him comforted and unafraid.
A last flurry of visits from friends old and new provided further solace and comfort, and on the evening of September 1 1967 he took his final breath. It was his fervent desire to be buried in St Andrew’s churchyard, just yards from Knox, his friend and mentor.
It remains to some a slightly puzzling request, as their association was relatively brief and certainly informal in terms of Sassoon’s religious instruction. It was a friendship that, like a firework or flare, shone briefly and brightly, and which further underlines Sassoon’s complexity and emphasis on the private over the public. Perhaps unconventionally, although society connections in those days could of course move mountains, his wish was granted, and there he lies, beneath, it must sadly be said, a rather disappointingly unkempt headstone.
Today, especially in this season of remembrance, the churchyard of a beautiful church in an enchanting village provides a tranquil and moving place of pilgrimage for admirers of one of our most celebrated poets and writers, and a man of deeply fascinating complexity and contradiction but, above all, great humanity and heroism.
St Andrews Church in Mells is open 10am - 6pm. Visit mellsgroup.church for the Mells Benefice Calendar and events.
