In Flanders Fields | Page 8

later its borders were enlarged to the wider term, and it strove to express an educated opinion upon questions immediately concerning Canada, and to treat freely in a literary way all matters which have to do with politics, industry, philosophy, science, and art.
To this magazine during those years John McCrae contributed all his verse. It was therefore not unseemly that I should have written to him, when "In Flanders Fields" appeared in `Punch'. Amongst his papers I find my poor letter, and many others of which something more might be made if one were concerned merely with the literary side of his life rather than with his life itself. Two references will be enough. Early in 1905 he offered "The Pilgrims" for publication.?I notified him of the place assigned to it in the magazine, and added a few words of appreciation, and after all these years it has come back to me.
The letter is dated February 9th, 1905, and reads: "I place the poem next to my own buffoonery. It is the real stuff of poetry. How did you make it? What have you to do with medicine??I was charmed with it: the thought high, the image perfect, the expression complete; not too reticent, not too full.?Videntes autem stellam gavisi sunt gaudio magno valde.?In our own tongue, -- `slainte filidh'." To his mother he wrote, "the Latin is translatable as, `seeing the star they rejoiced with exceeding gladness'." For the benefit of those whose education has proceeded no further than the Latin, it may be explained that the two last words mean, "Hail to the poet".
To the inexperienced there is something portentous about an appearance in print and something mysterious about the business of an editor. A legend has already grown up around the publication of "In Flanders Fields" in `Punch'. The truth is, "that the poem was offered in the usual way and accepted; that is all." The usual way of offering a piece to an editor is to put it in an envelope with a postage stamp outside to carry it there, and a stamp inside to carry it back. Nothing else helps.
An editor is merely a man who knows his right hand from his left, good from evil, having the honesty of a kitchen cook?who will not spoil his confection by favour for a friend.?Fear of a foe is not a temptation, since editors are too humble and harmless to have any. There are of course certain slight offices?which an editor can render, especially to those whose writings he does not intend to print, but John McCrae required none of these. His work was finished to the last point. He would bring his piece in his hand and put it on the table. A wise editor knows when to keep his mouth shut; but now I am free to say that he never understood the nicety of the semi-colon, and his writing was too heavily stopped.
He was not of those who might say, -- take it or leave it; but rather, -- look how perfect it is; and it was so. Also he was the first to recognize that an editor has some rights and prejudices, that certain words make him sick; that certain other words he reserves for his own use, -- "meticulous" once a year, "adscititious" once in a life time. This explains why editors write so little. In the end,?out of mere good nature, or seeing the futility of it all,?they contribute their words to contributors and write no more.
The volume of verse as here printed is small. The volume might be enlarged; it would not be improved. To estimate the value and institute a comparison of those herein set forth would be a congenial but useless task, which may well be left to those whose profession it is to offer instruction to the young. To say that "In Flanders Fields" is not the best would involve one in controversy. It did give expression to a mood which at the time was universal, and will remain as a permanent record when the mood is passed away.
The poem was first called to my attention by a Sapper officer, then Major, now Brigadier. He brought the paper in his hand from his billet in Dranoutre. It was printed on page 468, and Mr. `Punch' will be glad to be told that, in his annual index, in the issue of December 29th, 1915, he has mispelled the author's name, which is perhaps the only mistake he ever made. This officer could himself weave the sonnet with deft fingers, and he pointed out many deep things. It is to the sappers?the army always goes for "technical material".
The poem, he explained, consists of thirteen lines in iambic tetrameter and two lines of two iambics each; in all, one line