POEM TO THE KAISER

My mother was born in 1904, Whilst she was alive, was an expert on our raddled Royal family.   She could still recite a poem eulogising the German Kaiser, that British schoolchildren were forced to learn 'parrot-fashion' before the 1914 - 1918 war.

      She learned the poem in her school in Hull on England's east coast  in 1912, when the relationship between the British Empire and Germany was one of warmth, and before the horror of the first world war was unleashed. This goodwill was principally engendered by the close family links between the various European monarchies; mainly due to the proliferation of Queen Victoria’s numerous relations and many descendants.  In 1914 of course, the warmth between the two nations turned to extreme hatred, and some maintain that it has never returned.

      She was capable of remembering every word of this poem in her ninety-third year, except for most of the last verse.

In order to trace the source of the poem, I wrote to Pam Ayres who has her own radio show on BBC 2.  I asked if any of her listeners might be able to provide the name of the poet and the missing words, and help round off what is a beautiful, historically interesting, (if somewhat overly sentimental) ballad.  One of her listeners, who owned a compendium of Edwardian poetry found the piece and sent it to me.  Here it is:

Nowadays, children are encouraged to grasp an overview of a subject matter, rather than concentrating on isolated components of a genre.  Today of course, less emphasis is placed on learning by rote.  Powers of recall aren't considered of great value, and this makes my mother’s achievement all the more incredible!

      She was certainly 'a child of her time', and I suppose it is easy for us to criticise her educational failings.  Now I am older, I understand and sympathise more. Not everybody has the same chances in life.  Not everybody is blessed with that grim determination to succeed, which saw you work your way through the educational system.  Not all could face the worrying examinations and tests, with all the concomitant sacrifices that it entailed, before that glorious moment when you were called to the platform to receive your richly earned reward!

      My poor Mum did not have a very enjoyable life. Being born into the British industrial working class in 1904 wasn't exactly an ideal launch-pad for a successful and rewarding life!   Many overcame the lack of educational opportunity and made something of themselves, but the majority sank into a mire of unimaginative day to day existence for lack of stimulation and encouragement.  My Mum's mind just seemed to stop developing when she was about seventeen. She passed through a period in her teens, when she was receiving input (mainly the poetry of Thomas Hood and Robert Burns) from her father. It all faded away, and her intellectual horizons shrank back, ossified, and remained so ever after. In addition, she'd this philosophical position that saw the 'toffs'  (the ‘well born’) as inherently superior to us etc.!

                          Now I am older I understand and sympathise more. I loved her dearly.

       She was living here with us in the village up until she died in 1997 aged 93 years old. She had her own room, so she had her privacy.  We had a nurse who came in every morning and bathed her, which was a great help.  She was no trouble to care for and she was very good with Cameron who was just a small baby then.  She used to sit in her room, rocking his chair for hours on end.   Twenty years ago she developed a 'hiatus hernia', so she'd not eaten solid food for all that time. She survived on those special vitamin-packed drinks, which ironically may have been responsible for her great age - as normally she would probably haven't received all the nutriments and protein from her usual diet.