Auteur/autrice : anouk@conservatoireaugmente.com

Les premières traces connues de notation musicale remontent à l’Antiquité. Vers le quatorzième siècle avant notre ère, en Mésopotamie, les tablettes cunéiformes associées aux chants hourrites, notamment l’hymne dédié à la déesse Nikkal, témoignent d’une tentative de fixation du phénomène musical, dont l’interprétation demeure aujourd’hui encore largement hypothétique sur le plan strictement sonore. Ces inscriptions ne constituent pas encore des partitions au sens moderne. On n’y trouve ni portée ni figures rythmiques codifiées. Toutefois, la distinction entre texte chanté et signes musicaux marque une étape décisive. La musique commence à être pensée comme quelque chose qui peut s’écrire.

Dans la Grèce antique, la notation musicale connaît un développement plus abouti. L’Épitaphe de Seikilos, gravée sur une stèle funéraire entre le premier et le deuxième siècle de notre ère, associe texte, mélodie et indications rythmiques, permettant encore aujourd’hui une restitution musicale relativement fidèle. On trouve également des fragments de notation musicale dans le théâtre antique, notamment dans la tragédie Oreste d’Euripide, où les hauteurs sont indiquées par des lettres de l’alphabet grec placées au-dessus du texte.

Cependant, l’existence de systèmes de notation ne doit pas faire oublier l’importance considérable de la tradition orale. Pendant des siècles, et encore aujourd’hui dans de nombreuses cultures, la musique se transmet sans partition. La transmission orale repose sur la mémoire, l’imitation, la répétition et l’écoute. Elle n’exclut pas toute forme de codification, mais cette codification est implicite, incarnée dans les gestes, les formules, les styles et les contextes de performance.
Il convient d’ailleurs de nuancer l’opposition entre oralité et écriture. Même dans les traditions dites orales, on observe des formes de structuration symbolique, qu’il s’agisse de formules mélodiques, de schémas rythmiques ou de cadres modaux. L’absence de partition ne signifie donc pas absence de système, mais renvoie à d’autres modes de transmission du savoir musical.

L’écriture musicale, telle qu’elle s’est développée en Occident, ne constitue cependant pas un modèle universel. D’autres cultures ont élaboré leurs propres systèmes de représentation du sonore, répondant à des logiques esthétiques et pratiques différentes.

À titre d’exemple en Chine, la notation gongche utilise des caractères pour désigner les degrés de l’échelle, indépendamment d’un diapason fixe. En Inde, le système du sargam repose sur les syllabes Sa, Re, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni, organisées selon des cadres modaux complexes, les rāgas, dont la transmission combine écriture, oralité et pratique incarnée. La partition occidentale, fondée sur la portée et la fixation précise des hauteurs et des durées, constitue ainsi un héritage culturel spécifique parmi d’autres formes possibles d’écriture de la musique.

En Occident, c’est au Moyen Âge que la notation musicale se structure. À partir du neuvième siècle, dans le contexte du chant chrétien, apparaissent les neumes. Placés au-dessus du texte, ils indiquent le mouvement de la ligne mélodique sans en préciser les intervalles exacts.

Le tournant décisif intervient au onzième siècle avec Guido d’Arezzo. En introduisant un système de lignes sur lesquelles les neumes sont positionnés de manière relative, il permet une représentation plus précise des hauteurs. Il formalise également la dénomination des notes à partir de l’hymne à saint Jean-Baptiste, donnant naissance au système ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la. Avec les lignes, les clés et les noms de notes, la musique devient lisible, reproductible et transmissible.

À la Renaissance, l’invention de l’imprimerie transforme profondément la diffusion de la musique. La publication de l’Harmonice Musices Odhecaton par Ottaviano Petrucci, en 1501, marque une étape majeure dans la standardisation de la notation polyphonique. Les valeurs rythmiques se codifient progressivement, dans le prolongement des systèmes mensuraux hérités de la fin du Moyen Âge, et l’écriture devient capable de représenter des structures musicales complexes.

Les périodes baroque, classique et romantique renforcent l’écriture en tant qu’outil de coordination qui devient un espace d’expressivité de plus en plus détaillé. La pratique de la basse continue organise un équilibre subtil entre contrainte écrite et liberté d’interprétation. À partir du milieu du 18ᵉ siècle, la partition atteint progressivement un degré de densité d’informations à destination des interprètes et tend à devenir un objet d’étude à part entière.

Le vingtième siècle remet profondément en question ce modèle. Avec l’émergence des nouvelles notations graphiques et des formes ouvertes, la partition devient parfois un cadre de possibilités. Des compositeurs comme György Ligeti, John Cage, Karlheinz Stockhausen ou Pierre Boulez illustrent ces tentatives d’évolution de la notation traditionnelle.

Parallèlement, les musiques électroacoustiques posent une question nouvelle. Lorsque le son est directement fixé sur un support, bande magnétique ou fichier numérique, la notion même de partition se transforme. L’écriture peut alors prendre la forme de schémas, de processus, de descriptions techniques ou de dispositifs, plutôt que de signes destinés à être lus par un interprète. L’histoire de la notation musicale apparaît ainsi comme une succession de transformations, étroitement liées aux choix esthétiques des compositeurs, aux contextes culturels et aux moyens techniques de chaque époque. Loin d’être figée, elle demeure un langage vivant, en constante redéfinition.

This article explores the ways in a small cache of love letters, written over a hundred years ago, shed light on cultural life in Manchester during World War One, and how it overlapped and intersected with provincial political activism and a love of music. The letters were written over a two-year period between the Professor of Music, Frank Merrick from the Royal College of Music in Manchester and his wife, the composer and singer, Hope Squire. There are over 100 letters between the two, revealing the depth of their love for each other, (The letters are full of such endearments « My beloved companion and fellow Absolutist » or « xxxxx to be taken daily ») their shared passion for music and their wide network of associations across the political and cultural worlds of Edwardian England. The letters form a political and musical dialogue between Hope and Frank over the two-year period in which Frank was kept in solitary confinement, as were all conscientious objectors, in Wormwood Scrubs and Wandsworh prison in London. Visits were rare and expensive for Hope as he was continuously imprisoned in London, despite repeated requests to the Home Secretary to move him to Strangeways Prison in Manchester.
Conscription had been legalised in Britain by the Military Service Act 1916 but dealing with objectors to the Act, on the grounds of conscience, was a new and confusing situation for both the authorities and the Army. Frank Merrick had been arrested in May 1917 in the classroom of the College as he had not reported to camp as he had been instructed earlier in the year and his absence made him liable to prosecution for desertion¹. He was then taken to Manchester Police Station, fined and spent the night in the cells. He was then taken to Bury depot, just north of Manchester, of the Lancashire Fusiliers where he refused to take off his clothes and put on a uniform. He also refused to do any work either in the Non-Combatant Corps or under the Home Office Scheme which meant agreeing to perform civilian work under civilian control in specially created Work Centres/Work Camps. Refusal to accept the Scheme meant returning to prison to complete the sentence, then returning to the Army, where renewed disobedience would entail another court-martial and another prison sentence.
Frank regarded himself as an Absolutist, which meant that he would not undertake any work that would support the war effort in any way.  He was taken to Wormwood Scrubs Prison where most COs were interrogated. At this Central Tribunal at Wormwood Scrubs on 30th June 1917, Frank Merrick declared, « I regard war itself as the fundamental atrocity and the refusal to fight as the most effective antidote against it. I regard conscription as a very evil form of tyranny, against which I intend to put all the moral strength I possess. I regard my musical life-work as a contribution to the future wealth of mankind and I will not desert my art of my own free will though I recognise that it may be torn from me by force.² » He was then court martialled and imprisoned in Wormwood Scrubs and Wandsworth prison, both in London, until April 1919³. In late 1918 just after the end of the war, he wrote, « During the 17 months that I have been under lock and key I have never for a single second doubted the fact that I did absolutely and unequivocally right in coming here when I might perchance might have got out. »⁴
Hope and Frank would have received support and advice from the local Manchester branch of the No Conscription Fellowship (NCF), an organisation established in Manchester in late 1914 by socialist/pacifists Fenner and Lila Brockway. Fenner Brockway (1888-1988) was the editor of the radical socialist Labour Leader and on August 6, 1914, two days after the outbreak of war, he covered the whole front page with an anti-war manifesto. The slogan DOWN WITH THE WAR was printed at the top and bottom. Fenner Brockway was arrested in 1916 for distributing anti-war material and then as a conscientious objector, spending the next two and a half years in prison. The Merrick will have known the Brockways  through the Independent Labour Party (ILP), the No Conscription Fellowship (NCF) and the Women’s International League (WIL)⁵. They were also friends with a number of other nationally well-known activists, like Annie Somers, recognised as a trade union activist and who had worked with the Women’s Hospitals in France, and who wrote and visited Frank in prison. This combined with their friendship with influential people like the suffrage and anti-war Pethick Lawrences indicates that both Hope and Frank had a wide cultural network that stretched across the country. The letters make reference to activism in Liverpool, Sheffield and Bristol as well as London. They were also well known in national and regional musical circles suggesting that these two young people had substantial « social capital. »
By 1917, when Frank was arrested, the NCF had a newsletter called The Tribunal which gave advice and updates about COs. It reported that in March 1917 over 150 NCF branches had been raided and many branch secretaries imprisoned⁶. Frank and Hope would have known many of the local NCF members: certainly many were in the Independent Labour Party (ILP) and although there is no record of either Hope or Frank attending local ILP meetings, on January 25th, 1918, Hope wrote to Frank, « The gas man who replaced Mr Lowe, I’ve converted to the ILP. »⁷ Lowe the gas man had been arrested at Warrington and « will be turning up at W.Scrubs. »⁸ Local suffrage and socialist ILP women like Annot Robinson and Dorothy Smith sent Frank good wishes, and in October 1917 Hope sent greetings to Frank  from the  Mayers, Rothchilds, Isaacs, Robinsons, Dr Brodsky, Bauerkellers, Crewe Lucas, Unwins, the Normans, Stewart’s etc. revealing a  close and supportive friendship network⁹. Hope also wrote in October 1917, that Liverpool ILP are holding Esperanto classes, (Frank was learning Esperanto in prison) and that she will talk to the Women’s International League about Frank’s suggestion that they rewrite their leaflets in that International language¹⁰. Hope is also friendly with another local ILP member Phillis Skinner, whose husband Allen had been arrested and imprisoned in December 1916. Phillis had also been imprisoned for three months in Strangeways in Manchester, in July 1917 for handing out anti-war material in Prees Heath in Cheshire where Allen had been court martialled. In January 1918, Frank asks, « Is Phillis Skinner about again? » And the following letters discuss Allen Skinner’s discharge from prison on the grounds of ill health and Phillis’ concern for him and their small son Jack, born in 1915. They’re were clearly very friendly as in 1919 when Allen was still unwell, Jack stayed with Hope at 12 Parsonage Rd while Phillis visited the surgeon to discuss Allen’s health¹¹. Hope visited the family frequently. Arguably, what was different during the war was that Hope and Frank came into closer contact with the local working class, drawn together by their shared anti-war stance and they began to build friendships and relationships that cut across both class and generation. As Hope wrote in 1919, « I’m an anti-militarist and anti-snob. »¹²
Hope and Frank were involved in many of the campaigns associated with early twentieth century radical Edwardian Britain: suffrage, socialism, vegetarianism and pacifism. They were part of Manchester’s radical « set », as Frank wrote to Hope in January 1918, « Give my love to all our « Crank » societies, my enthusiasm for the ideals which each has set before it, increases. »¹³ Manchester in 1917 was industrial, cultural, non-conformist, radical, reformist and famously the birthplace of the militant suffrage organisation, the Women’s Social and Political Union (WSPU). However, it was also the home for many other suffrage and campaigning groups. For example, Frank was an active member of the Manchester Men’s League for Women’s Suffrage, a membership he shared with many of the liberal elite of Manchester, like Professors Schuster, Weiss and Herford from Manchester University. Hope had stitched a banner for the group in 1914¹⁴. Hope, having been a member of the WSPU, then became a member of the breakaway Women’s Freedom League (WFL) which supported nonviolent militant action. There were two branches of the WFL in Manchester, one of which was in neighbouring, pioneering, co-operative run Burnage Garden Village, where the secretary was Annie Brickhill, a former teacher. However, in September 1916, Frank and Hope became founder members of the reconfigured United Suffragists campaigning for the Vote during the war¹⁵. Local US branch news in Votes for Women reported support from suffrage campaigners in Manchester and it drew together many of the WSPU women whose own campaign had been halted by the outbreak of war: WSPU women like Lillian Forester who had been briefly imprisoned for her part in the attack on Manchester Art Gallery in 1913 but now stood for peace, and Miss Cannon, who went on to form a Manchester branch of Sylvia Pankhurst’s anti-war Worker’s Suffrage Federation in 1917.
Increasingly there was a groundswell of grassroots’ support in the women’s suffrage and labour movements for universal suffrage. From 1916, at least two Manchester suffrage women, Margaret Ashton, a neighbour of the Merricks, and an associate of the Merrick’s, socialist/suffragist Annot Robinson, were on the National Council for Adult Suffrage. Ashton spoke at an AS demonstration in London in February 1917¹⁶. Hope had pressed for Adult Suffrage at a US meeting in late 1916, while Frank had chaired a Manchester Suffrage conference in November 1916 where a resolution supporting AS and « representing the united non-party suffrage opinion of Manchester », was passed¹⁷. Both Frank and Hope were progressive and radical in their views: Frank regards them both as « white hot rebels »¹⁸ and he suggested that Hope might take 12 Parsonage Road in her name, if  « it gets you the Vote. »¹⁹ Hope declared that she « would rather see class co-operation. I want to do away with the extreme rich and extreme poverty. »²⁰
By 1916, Hope was also a member of the pacifist and anti-militarist Women’s International League (WIL), which had been established after the International Congress of Women in The Hague in April 1915. Three Manchester suffrage and trade union women had formed part of the failed British delegation to The Hague, stranded on Tilbury Docks when Winston Churchill closed the channel to all domestic shipping.²¹ Over a thousand other European and American women managed to attend the Congress while three British women, Catherine Marshall, Emmeline Pethick Lawrence, and Crystal McMillan, were already in The Hague. The Merrick Squires were very friendly with Emmeline Pethick Lawrence, who had been part of the WSPU when Hope was a member and was a staunch supporter of COs during the war. She visited Frank a number of times in prison and took up the cause of prison reform. He saw her as « a pearl among stateswomen. » She was on the executive committee of the WIL.²² She is mentioned in a number of the letters, particularly when she decided to stand as a candidate (unsuccessfully) in Manchester’s Rusholme ward in the 1918 General Election, the first where women could vote and stand as MPs. She declared of Frank’s imprisonment, « How silly to shut a songbird in a cage. »
Manchester was the largest branch of the Women’s International League (WIL) in England, with over 300 members. It had been established by a group of local suffrage women who had resigned from the Manchester Federation of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies (NUWSS) in the summer of 1915, and the local branch network was then largely superimposed on the existing suffragist network through the North West. The WIL attracted a mix of non-conformist, socialist, pacifist, and suffrage women and reconfigured many of the pre-war groupings and associations. Many of Hope’s immediate neighbours like councillor Margaret Ashton, May Unwin, and Amy Herford were also members of the WIL.²³
There had always been national links between the Manchester suffrage societies and other suffrage groups across the country; the Pankhursts, famed for their « Deeds not Words » rallying call and their establishment of the militant Women’s Social and Political Union, were rooted in Manchester. The North West Federation of National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies was nationally influential with an extensive regional network. Manchester suffragists and neighbours, like Margaret Ashton and Carys Schuster, were part of the National Union’s executive. There were other less obvious links, for example, in early 1916, Frank and Hope held an exhibition and sale of modern art at their home in 12 Parsonage Road in Withington to raise money for Sylvia Pankhurst’s breakaway East London Federation of Suffragettes (ELFS) which suggests that the Merricks anticipated a local sympathetic audience for the sale.²⁴ The letters also mention the changing fortunes of the suffrage movement after the passing of the Representation of the People Act in February 1918 which gave some women the Vote, with many of the suffrage groups disbanding and many women then joining the Women’s International League.²⁵ In March 1918 Hope was busy making things for a WIL sale of work.²⁶
The letters are very comprehensive; Hope writes with a wealth of specific detail about life on the Home Front, the price of food, vegetarian recipes, and the other minutiae of life. In October 1917, she tells Frank that the Hampsons, fellow members of the United Suffragists (US) have « moved into 22 Heaton Rd (2nd from the pillar box). » Heaton Rd was round the corner from Parsonage Rd, and on June 1918 other US supporters and fellow musicians, Edward Isaacs, a piano teacher at the Royal College, and his wife moved into neighbouring Amhurst Rd. There is a real sense that Hope Squire was part of a local and supportive community, both physically with sympathetic neighbours and virtually, with many local anti-war and anti-conscription organisations giving advice and support.
When Phillis Skinner and her co-conspirator Maud Hayes (imprisoned with Phillis in July 1917) came round for supper in June 1918, with another wife of a CO, Elsie Hill, Hope told Frank that « I gave them some rissoles made of barley and lentils, a thing made from macaroni and mixed nuts, lettuce, bread and butter and a chocolate blancmange – I had a bit of luck as my neighbours had gone away and left me a ¼ lb of butter and nearly a pint of milk. »²⁷The war of course raised opportunities for women: Hope wrote about their friend Mrs. Craven Sykes, in the autumn 1918: « I encountered Mrs. Craven who said that she was nearly worn out – I said why did she keep on the Red Cross work – she said « Well, I’ll tell you – you don’t know what my life is because your husband is a « sport ». I’ve spent all my life drudging and slaving after the opposite sex – my father wants as much waiting on as a child, my husband is the same, my only child is a boy, – I started life with a better brain than any of my brothers, but I only got half an education – and I’ll stick this R.C works till I drop because it’s my only chance of hobnobbing with a few well educated women, and getting away from the drudgery of home. I don’t mind work, but I am so sick of being looked upon as a creature with no brain. » »²⁸ This letter speaks for many women after 1914 and confirms the way in which new friendships and associations were made because of the extraordinary circumstances of war.
However, despite the wealth of domestic detail in the letters, music always wins out; underneath all the detail, there are constant references to the College and to the importance of music in their lives. The second letter that Frank writes in the autumn 1917 asks Hope to send him, « [a] bound volume of string quartets (miniature score) by Mozart or Haydn, Wollstonecraft’s « Vindication », and failing the quartets « Israel » – for « Judas » was a great success. I should so like to learn the choruses, then I could feed on them at many hours of the day – for instance at exercise, when the regular steps make musical thought difficult or disagreeable and when poetry would be help indeed. […]. Tell Dr Brodsky I wish I could hear his quartet from time to time; I often think of it. […] » and reassures Hope that « I have done lots of musical work, and I believe my technique has improved, mainly in two respects, i.e., wrist-work and motion of the arms from side to side while the body remains still. The latter improvement has been partly helped by much conducting, which has also helped to unstiffen some pieces from a rhythmical point of view (Chopin’s Ballade in F, Impromptu in F sharp, and some of the short Brahms pieces, etc.); it is also a better way of warming oneself than « tiger pacing » because less tiring, more lasting in effect and noiseless. »²⁹ Throughout the letters from Frank are scribbled scores.

The letters are also taken up with college business. It seems that when Merrick was arrested, the minutes of the College simply reported that he was unavailable for classes (he was a piano tutor) and that his wife Hope Squire, was taking over his classes. Then when he was released, he was suddenly available again. No mention of why he was away is recorded, as the College probably didn’t want it on record that a CO was on staff and therefore, for all intents and purposes, a criminal. As Hope had been asked to take on some of Frank’s pupils when he was imprisoned, she tries to keep him up to date with what is happening with staff and pupils. Of course, he wasn’t imprisoned as a criminal but rather because of the military offence of refusing to obey a lawful order. A really important distinction and the College certainly don’t really seem to have perceived him as a criminal. Although the distinction was a fine one, in early 1918 Hope recounts that « [a]nother new pupil has applied this week, Frances Margison aged 17, her father very keen on sending her to you at College, and tired of waiting till the war is over wants me to take her privately till you come back. He called here, and Oscar [Oscar Rothschild was a local benefactor of the college] interviewed him, an inimitable interview! O « I suppose you know Mr. M is criminal and is in prison? » Parent « O yes – we have to be thankful for such criminals! I shall be glad for my daughter to be under the influence of such a fine man. My son is in the Army, but only because he had to go! » Oscar then informed the victim that he had studied the pianoforte with Saint-Saëns (!!!!!!), Madame Schumann, and countless other celebrities, but none of them, etc.,  to compare with Hope Squire! »³⁰  Oscar’s wife, Thekla, was a great friend of Hope’s and a member of the WIL, and Hope often writes to Frank from the Rothschild’s house in neighbouring Old Broadway. There was an ongoing battle with Robert Forbes, who was another piano tutor and who eventually succeeded as principal of the College after Brodsky in the late 1920s, when the Merricks decided to move to London: Frank stated that when Brodsky died and Forbes replaced him, they didn’t « care for the new man from the staff at the College. »³¹ During the war  Hope was feeling upset about her own relationship with Brodsky,  although she declares that his admiration for Frank never wavers. In January 1918 she wrote « Dr. Brodsky has asked me to play at the next Brodsky concert. I was so amazed that I didn’t accept for 3 days, as he has been so unkind to me since you left and what with the open hostility of Mr. Forbes and other things, my life at college is anything but a path of roses. I wrote the Dr a great piece of my mind on Monday, with the result that he sent for me, we decided what to play and he asked if I would go and spend Sunday at Bowden, and we would enjoy some real good practice together. »³² Both Hope and Frank  were concerned about the progress and number of their pupils, and in October 1917, almost immediately after Frank’s imprisonment, Hope noted that « Mr. Forbes has lots of new pupils, Max just 1 and me – none » (but because of her reputation, she attracts new private pupils) one in 1917: « Ella Voysey: nearly 15, clouds of bronze red hair like Rossetti’s pictures, remarkably intellectual, having been brought up at Bedales’ school. I think she will turn out quite special – so enthusiastic. » Ella Voysey later married the film star Robert Donat, who lived near the Merricks in Withington.
In March 1918 Hope writes that, « I teach at the college on Tues and Friday 12-1 in Dr. Brodsky’s room and 1-4 in Max’s [Max Mayer was another pianist].  Mr. Forbes having turned me out of No. 12 after a guerilla warfare which lasted all last term! »³³ Life for the young women students and Hope was not always easy and in July 1918, Hope reported that: « Edith and Nelly played all their diploma works so splendidly, I don’t think you could believe unless you heard. Edith’s interpretation of the Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue – when it dawned on her – was so grand, I was moved beyond words, I especially asked that she might be allowed to play it through at the exam. I expected them both to get distinction. Edith has failed 72 – Nelly passed 75 – go for teacher’s cert. I feel very indignant – of course I was tabooed as an examiner again. Mr. Hartly said Edith had more talent than anyone in the College, but the reason given for not granting her a diploma was « too young and immature ». I can’t see what age has to do with it – especially in a performer – I’ve had a furious letter from Nelly who says Edith never played better and that everything went perfectly – if that is so all I can say is that there has been no playing as fine since I have known the College. Nelly declares that Max and Miss Arthan [Ellen Arthan was another pupil] are responsible, and that Mr. Withers [the registrar] said Edith was « full of conceits, not really musical, uneducated, unrefined and had none of the instincts of a lady. » What this had to do with the exam, I don’t know. »³⁴ And being the wife of a « conchie » might have had other repercussions for Hope in 1918, « [t]his morning also I had a cruel letter from Nelly saying she had felt for a long time past that I did not like teaching her – so under the circumstances had decided to leave – she has left, having written to Mr. Withers making the same complaint. I am utterly mystified and I felt nearly heartbroken this morning – Winifred, Mary, Nelly, and possibly Edith – £54, if not £72 off my yearly income – all seems so black and difficult. »³⁵ But there was support too, in early 1919, when the war had ended but the COs were not released, Hope tells Frank « I was stopped in the road by a Mrs. Stoneley, whose husband is a violinist in Halle Orchestra; they absolutely worship you. »³⁶
Hope writes about the scarcity of vegetables and the increasing price of food and coal. But still she « swapped my 5 lbs of sugar savings for 7 overtures by Beethoven. » and she plans to plant her small suburban garden with broad beans, scarlet runner beans, peas, onions, carrots, turnips as well as sweet peas, stocks, and pansies. The price of food is a constant theme, and by October, Hope talks of rationing. By Nov. 1918 she writes that « eggs are 7d each Coal 40/= a ton (£90 today), and milk 8d a quart. »³⁷
She wrote a great deal about the other Manchester Conscientious Objectors particularly a local plumber, William Galtry, who had been in Wormwood Scrubs with Frank. She wrote in August 1918 when William Galtry had been released on the grounds of ill health, « [t]he poor Galtrys have been having an awful time over the last two weeks since G came home. They had to have police protection every night – of course they live in a low district [sic], however a lady for whom Mrs. G works, helped them (with police removing them at 4 am), and she has taken charge of their belongings, and they are being housed by another CO whose experience has been similar and whose head had to be sewn up in 5 places. All this rough work is being done by gangs organised by Pendlebury, a shining light of the British Workers’ Union and a member of the War Aims Society, the same man who unsuccessfully tried to upset Mrs. Pethick Lawrence’s great [peace] do in Stevenson Square. »³⁸ This was at a time when many peace meetings were broken up and stopped by the police. However, not all stories about local COs are depressing, in August 1918, Hope writes, « Mrs. Hayes has married Mr. Rodway, recently discharged from prison on ill health; he is getting surprisingly better. His firm has received him with open arms and gave him a cheque for £10 to go and have a holiday. What a difference, and there is a saint like [Harold] Webster (another local CO) still looking for a post and can’t get in anywhere. »³⁹ Frank and Rodway had been in Wormwood Scrubs together, and Frank replies « I am glad Rodway is out – I think his was the first CO face I saw when Childe Merrick to the dark tower came. »⁴⁰ A reference to Byron, revealing, perhaps, Hope and Frank’s shared knowledge and love of literature.
One of the things that depressed Frank was the lack of colour in his life. Hope knitted him a bright red scarf, and when he wore it in the prison in December 1918, he declared, « Thanks for the lovely scarf: its debut in the exercise yard might be described as triumphant! »⁴¹ When he is moved to Wandsworth in September 1918, after a year in Wormwood Scrubs, he writes « A rare event, the transference, which had its pleasures and its humors. » Among the former was the very considerable one of beholding everyday things as women, children, policemen, dogs, horses, trams, motors, and advertising hoardings. Only one cat did I behold [Hope and Frank had two cats, Mr. Matthew and Mousegorski, whom they adored], but it was a very distinguished one – a dark Persian tabby located in a doorway, blinking its exceedingly green eyes with an air of great wisdom and gravity. The only other animal event was that I received a tender kiss upon the face (the first time in my life) from one of the horses that brought the party over. Shepherds Bush Green now entirely devoted to allotments, scarlet runners, and old-fashioned sunflowers. »⁴²There were other deprivations in prison too, as a vegetarian, Frank’s diet was allowed but was very restricted and in another letter, he thanked Hope for a parcel of toothpaste as he had been using brick dust to clean his teeth. He recalled too the terrible silence rule within the prison and the relief at being able to talk briefly to fellow COs in the exercise yard. »⁴³
There is no doubt that these two young people, who had been married for 6 years, felt themselves to be soul mates, both politically and musically. In October 1917, Frank talks about the « great cause of internationalism and a belief in the great potency of Love. » They were a romantic couple, and when Frank’s wedding ring was confiscated in prison in 1917 because of his recalcitrant behaviour, Hope removed hers in sympathy and they planned a ring giving ceremony on Frank’s release. They were in their own words: « made for each other » signing their letters always romantically: « your wholly enamoured Frank » or « yours, every bit of me, Hope ».
For a historian of the anti-war movement in Manchester and the North West, these letters have been an extraordinary glimpse into the progressive networks that existed in an industrial city like Manchester in the early twentieth century. As a historian of women’s anti-war activism, the letters have provided an extraordinary glimpse into the daily life on the Home Front for a working and progressive woman, who was also regarded as a « crank ». To have a husband imprisoned for refusing to fight put Hope in a precarious position, and she talks of her « pacifism having much testing » and she writes in April 1918 of having visited Frank in prison and travelling home on the train « in my carriage, 4 soldiers and 3 ladies all talked about the war, whilst I learnt Esperanto, but presently abuse and ridicule of COs. So, after a few minutes, I looked up and said quietly « I wish to tell you all I am the wife of a CO’ there was a horrified silence, and then one lady assumed the offensive, backed up by a S African soldier. The others except a Slav joined in and I tackled the lot with great ability for 1/2 an hour. » The arguments continued and they had only heard of the Non-Combatant Corps and when I explained that a real CO would not be in the NCC they quite at a loss […]. Eventually all expressed real appreciation of the real COs whom they knew nothing about and declared they could not stand solitary confinement even for a week. »⁴⁴
On Tuesday, December 24th, 1918, Frank wrote:  « It seems grimly appropriate that people of our persuasion should still be persecuted by the direst of all penalties – separation from each other – at this Christmas season. For it is we who hold the most uncompromisingly to the idea that in the extension of Universal Goodwill lies the only practical hope of making a happier world. I fully share your love of moonlight; so did Debussy, did he not? »⁴⁵ Hope replied, telling him that he will be issued a Certificate of Disgrace and not allowed to vote nor find work through the Labour Exchanges. She tells many stories of how hard it is for COs to find work. There was a general outcry about the fact that COs and especially Absolutists like Frank were not released sooner, but the Government was adamant despite public meetings and a national petition launched by Lord Lansdowne. By the end of the war, the letters begin to discuss the possible release of Frank, and both Hope and the College wanted to intervene to hasten his release, but Frank refused any preferential treatment, and he was not released until April 24th, 1919. The last letter from Frank is April 21st – still discussing setting poetry to music between the two of them – like the old days. I am uncertain what happened on Frank’s release – I can only imagine the delight with which they must have embraced each other. As Hope said in one of her early letters « when you do come home, I shall be overcome by joy. » They remained married until Hope’s death in 1936.
These letters are an extraordinary find: they confirm the closeness of both the regional and national anti-war network and community during the First World War, and they shed light on the deprivations faced by the families of men who were imprisoned for refusing to fight. Above all, they are a testament to the resilience of human nature. They also reveal the ways in which the resistance to the war cut through class and political affiliations in an industrial city like Manchester, and it is likely that Hope and Frank’s experience was replicated across the country. The Pearce database of conscientious objectors during the First World War now totals more than 20,000 men and families across the country will have experiences similar to those of Frank and Hope. As Hope declared, just after the Armistice in November 1918, « No-one can say that Great Britain was solid for war. »⁴⁶

Pour citer cet article

RONAN Alison, « « …we are utterly odd. » A collaborative life in both music and politics », Actes du colloque Les institutions musicales à Paris et à Manchester pendant la Première Guerre mondiale (5-6 mars 2018), Conservatoire de Paris (CNSMDP), Opéra-Comique, Royal Northern College of Music (RNCM), Les Éditions du Conservatoire, 2021, https://www.conservatoiredeparis.fr/fr/we-are-utterly-odd1-collaborative-life-both-music-and-politics.

Notes

1. Frank Merrick, Oral History 381, Imperial War Museum. ↩︎
2. Central Tribunal at Wormwood Scrubs, 30/7/1917, Cyril Pearce Database: Imperial War Museum. ↩︎
3. DM2103/F/5/2/3 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
4. DM2103/F/5/2/27 Bristol University Archive ↩︎
5. See Peace Pledge Union (PPU) archives re Fenner Brockway. ↩︎
6. The Tribunal March, 8th 1917, Working Class Movement Library, Salford. ↩︎
7. DM2103/F/5/10 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
8. DM 2103/F/5/1//6 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
9. DM2103/F/5/6 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
10. DM2103/F/5/21 Bristol University Archive. Many of these names are fellow musicians at the College or neighbours. ↩︎
11. DM 2103/F/5/1/36 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
12. DM2103/F/5/1/36 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
13. DM2103/F/5/1/2/3 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
14. MML/1/1 Minutes, 14th July 1914, John Rylands Library, Manchester. ↩︎
15. Votes For Women, September 1916. ↩︎
16. Votes for Women, Volume 9, no. 423, January 1917. ↩︎
17. Votes for Women, Volume 9, no. 436, 29 November 1916. ↩︎
18. DM2103/F/5/2/11 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
19. DM2103/f/5/2/6 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
20. DM2103/F/5/1/30 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
21. Margaret Ashton, Sarah Reddish from Bolton and Sara Dickenson from Salford were the Manchester delegates. ↩︎
22. Emmeline Pethick Lawrence (1867-1954) was a well known suffragist and pacifist. She visited Frank a number of times in Wormwood Scrubs. ↩︎
23. Ashton (1856-1937) was the Vice Chair of the Women’s International League and President of the local branch network. May Unwin was married to Professor Unwin and joined the League in 1917. Trade Union activist Amy Herford was the sister of anti-conscription and philanthropist Hugh Herford. They all lived near the Merricks.
    [25] Votes For Women, Volume 9, no 422, December 1916. ↩︎
24. DM2103/F/5/4 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
25. DM2103/F/5/4 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
26. DM2103/F/5/9 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
27. DM2103/F/5/9 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
28. DM2103/F/5/117 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
29. DM 2103/F/5/2/2 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
30. DM2103/F/5/1/7 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
31. Frank Merrick, oral recording 381, Imperial War Museum. ↩︎
32. DM2103/F/5/1/2 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
33. DM2103/F/5/1/4 Bristol University Archives ↩︎
34. DM2103/F/5/1/13 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
35. DM2103/F/5/1/21 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
36. DM2103/F/5/1/31 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
37. DM/F/5/1/20 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
38. DM2103/F/5/1/17 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
39. DM2103/F/5/1/15 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
40. DM2103/F/5/2/7 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
41. DM2103/F/5/2/33 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
42. DM2103/F/5/2/20 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
43. Frank Merrick, Oral History 318, Imperial War Museum. ↩︎
44. DM2103/F/5/1/5 Bristol University Archive. ↩︎
45. DM2103/F/5/2/32 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎
46. DM2103/F/5/1//29 Bristol University Archives. ↩︎