Louise Mack, novelist and poet, is perhaps better known today as the author of pioneering stories for young adults, such as Teens (1897), the adventures of schoolgirls in a Sydney high school.

Would it surprise you, then, to learn that she was also one of the most prominent voices of World War I in Australian newspapers and on lecture stages?

The first woman war correspondent to report from the frontlines of WWI, Mack later came back to Australia where she toured a popular lecture series in which she described the atrocities of the war.

Hostilities broke out in July 1914. By September, reports were appearing in Australian newspapers from Belgium, recounting the experiences of Louise Mack, correspondent for London newspaper the Evening News. These reports concentrated on atrocities such as the reported desecration of a Catholic cathedral, as well as the murder of civilians and particularly gruesome descriptions, reminiscent of the martyrdom of saints, of an English nurse.

These reports were usually headed with 'Described by Australian Authoress' or 'What Louise Mack Saw'. Coming as they did in the period before Australia itself was heavily involved in the war, these reports gave an immediacy and authenticity to what was happening on the very far side of the globe–although the Leader (a newspaper based in Orange) did note that Mack and other war correspondents 'have not yet seen an engagement. They are relying for their information upon the reports of wounded combatants or flying peasantry' ('The War', 25 September 1914, p.4).

Nevertheless, Mack's own columns began being reprinted in Australian newspapers (see 'Further Reading').

By October, as the German army advanced, the correspondents found themselves closer to the fighting: Australian newspapers reported that at the fall of Antwerp, 'A correspondent seeking refuge in a hotel cellar encountered Louise Mack, the representative of the London "Evening News," and Frank Fox, representing the "Morning Post," both Australians' ('The War: Fall of Antwerp', The Bunbury Herald, 13 October 1914, p.1).

By December 1914, Mack was back in London, having been, the newspapers reported, 'in Brussels and Antwerp during the German occupation, and behind the German lines at Alost, Aerschott, and Termonde', including a period during the bombardment of Antwerp where she 'stayed with a Belgian family disguised as a servant' ([Untitled], Sunday Times, 20 December 1914, p.29).

Mack planned to turn her experiences in the war into an Australian lecture tour as early as January 1915, when it was reported in Australian newspapers ('From Near and Far', Sydney Morning Herald, 20 January 1915, p.5).

Under the direction of J. and N. Tait, she began her lecture tour in Sydney on 17 July 1915 ('World of Recreation', Worker, 10 June 1915, p.14), recounting such experiences as having been 'the last correspondent to interview M. Max, burgomaster of Brussels, prior to his imprisonment by the Germans' ('All about People', Catholic Press, 8 July 1915, p.20); Adolphe Max, mayor of Brussels since 1909, had been arrested for refusing to cooperate with occupying forces, and was held in captivity until his escape on 13 November 1918.

The lecture series, accompanied by films and photographs (sometimes said to have been obtained in Belgium by Mack, sometimes said to have been taken by Mack herself) continued late into 1915.

Throughout the war, Mack continued to give occasional lectures on her experiences; she gave, for example, a lecture in Brisbane called 'In the Red Hot Heart of the War' in October 1916 (see advertising, Brisbane Courier, 5 October 1916, p.2). Her lecture circuit was comparatively constrained in 1916 and 1917, but she again embarked on an enormous lecture tour in 1918, called 'What I Saw in the War', delivered under the auspices of the Red Cross. Travelling through the west of New South Wales and down the South Coast, she told stories of the war and its martyrs:

Louise Mack's meeting with Edith Cavell in Brussels is a most touching story, with every element of drama and pathos attached to it. The two women met accidentally one Sunday afternoon in the Cathedral of St. Gudule, Brussels, were a little group of English nurses were on their knees praying, in the midst of the German occupation. To them creeps up the dauntless war correspondent, 'I am English, too,' she whispers. Under their breath they ask her to come to them that night in the old Fire Station, which they had used as a hospital until the Germans seized the town. At night, through the dark and the pouring rain, Louise Mack crept round, was admitted, and spent two never-to-be-forgotten hours with Edith Cavell and the other nurses. ([Untitled], Southern Star, 16 January 1918, p.2).

Although her experiences, exclusively European, might have been overshadowed in the mid-war years by the news from Gallipoli, Louise Mack was in many ways the voice of World War I for Australians.

Further Reading

Below are a selection of Louise Mack's war columns, as reprinted in Australian newspapers:

'German "Culture": Unspeakable Brutality at Aerschott', Sydney Morning Herald, 31 October 1914, p.14.

'When the Zeppelin Came', The Riverine Grazier, 13 November 1914, p.3.

'Besieged: Louise Mack in Antwerp', Daily Herald, 23 November 1914, p.2.

'In Belgium: Experiences of a Sydney Woman', Sydney Morning Herald, 13 January 1915, p.12.

'An Australian in Antwerp: How Louise Mack Fared', The Riverine Grazier, 22 January 1915, p.4.

'My Adventures in the War Zone', Albury Banner and Wodonga Express, 29 January 1915, p.40.

'Air Battle: Bombardment of Dunkirk', Sydney Morning Herald, 26 February 1915, p.6.

'What I Saw in Brussels', Ballarat Courier, 5 May 1915, p.4.

'Through the Siege of Antwerp', West Australian, 2 July 1915, p.3.

The outbreak of war in 1914 drew a mixed response from the creative writers whose works appeared in Australian newspapers and magazines. Indeed, in many instances the response was somewhat muted. Many newspapers and magazines didn't start publishing creative works which had the war as their subject until well into September.

As might be expected, most of the war-related literature that appeared in the newspapers during the first weeks of the war was strongly patriotic, with the great majority expressing loyalty to Britain and Empire and affirming Australia's duty to support the mother country. Whilst few of the newspaper authors of August 1914 expressed outright enthusiasm for war, few were talking of peace or a negotiated end to hostilities either.

One notable work to appear in the newspapers in August 1914 was the poem 'War', written by Edwin Murphy ('Dryblower'), which was published in the Perth Sunday Times on August 2nd, two days before Britain declared war. In the poem Murphy reflects on the destructive consequences of war and cautions those who were enthusiastically calling for war. The poem is interesting because Murphy subsequently became a leading patriot and supporter of the war effort, and throughout the war years his highly patriotic verses appeared regularly in the Sunday Times and a number of other Australian newspapers. He also wrote two patriotic wartime songs. So it is interesting to find that in early August 1914, he was in fact very uneasy at the prospect of war, and not at all the patriotic tub thumper that he later became.

One of the first Australian poets to write on the war was the Brisbane author Emily Coungeau. Her stirring patriotic poem, 'Oh! Ask Me Not', was published in the Brisbane Courier on August 5th, the day after Britain declared war. Perhaps the most prolific war poet of August 1914 might have been the Victorian writer Georgina Bones ('Mona Marie'). During the first weeks of the war, four of her patriotic poems were published in the Queenscliff Sentinel and the Ballarat Courier: 'Our Nation'; 'Sons of Empire'; 'Britons Yet'; 'Song of Australia's Young Guard'.

Of all the Australian newspapers and magazines in circulation in August 1914, the Sydney Bulletin was perhaps the quickest off the mark to provide readers with a regular diet of war related literature. The issue for August 6th, which appeared just two days after Britain declared war, was particularly notable for Arthur H. Adams's poem 'Prologue', which appeared within a full page cover feature, accompanied by a dramatic illustration by cartoonist David Low. During the war the Bulletin was undoubtedly one of the foremost propagandists of the war among the Australian newspapers and magazines. So it is interesting to find that even in the issue of August 6th, the Bulletin was up and running, lampooning pacifists and ridiculing the peace movement in the poems 'Helpless', by the unlikely author 'Mars Hannibal Smith', and 'They', by 'Corporal Nym'.

The Labor press was of course deeply alarmed at the war, which it generally regarded as an outcome of capitalism which would bring profits to the arms makers and nothing but misfortune to the workers. Among its various offerings during August, the Australian Worker published two notable poems by R. J. Cassidy - 'Jean Jaures', a tribute to the assassinated French socialist leader who had been seeking a diplomatic solution to avoid war; 'The Blood-Bathers', which voiced concern at the jingoistic and callous reporting of the war in the tabloid press. Another interesting poem, 'Friends in Need', by Moses Sadde, was inspired by the plight of a German band who found themselves in Sydney when war was declared. In Melbourne, the radical left wing newspaper the Labor Call published one of the few out-and-out anti-war poems to appear in the Australian newspapers in August - 'The Soldier', which reflected on the inhumanity of war and the role played by the obedient soldier.

Of course, in looking at the literature of August 1914, one point to keep in mind is that press censorship was introduced in Australia during August. Even at this early stage of the war, creative works published in newspapers and magazines were subject to censorship. Just how rigorous the process might have been at this point is unclear, though it appears to have quickly ruffled feathers at the Bulletin. Two witty poems on the subject appeared in the issue of August 20th - 'Censored', by Arthur H. Adams; 'Going Gently', by 'Blue Pencil'. In the following week's issue Bulletin editor James Edmond saw fit to reflect on the effects of censorship in a humorous editorial piece titled 'The Bulletin Has a Censor on the Premises'.

Dorothy Frances McCrae was one of the many, many patriotic poets whose stirring verses appeared in the Australian newspapers and magazines in the early months of World War I.

In many respects, McCrae's poems are typical of a good deal of the war literature of the pre-Gallipoli period, in that they reflected a way of writing about the war, a way of imagining the war, which was as yet untempered by the reality of war. Like so much of the creative outpouring of the early months of the war, McCrae's poems express a level of exuberance and enthusiasm that became less common as the war progressed, when the casualty lists began appearing in the newspapers and the reality of the war began to hit home.

McCrae's first selection of wartime poems, Soldier, My Soldier!, was published in mid October 1914, at which point Australia's only engagement in the war had involved the seizure of German New Guinea by a small expeditionary force. Her second selection, The Clear Call, was published in late July 1915, when the Gallipoli campaign had yet to run its full course and when people at home in Australia still had little knowledge of events there.

Without exception, McCrae's wartime poems are wildly patriotic. Fuelled by outrage at the German invasion of Belgium, she views the war as a noble and just cause, as a glorious and heroic adventure, where Australians might prove their worth and affirm their loyalty to Britain and Empire. Men are implored to fulfil their duty and enlist in the armed forces, while women are encouraged to support their menfolk and be steadfast in their resolve.

Regardless of what you make of McCrae's poems, she is an intriguing figure. In many of her poems she assumes the voice of the wife or the mother, in effect claiming the authority of a woman whose husband or son has enlisted–which was of course at odds with the facts. McCrae's husband was a Church of England clergyman who spent the war years in Australia and New Zealand, and at the time her children were of primary-school age.

A few examples:

'Second Thoughts' (1st stanza)

I wished you back at my breast

When I saw this war descend,

Now I'd scour the east and west

For another son to send;

'The Empire's Call' (3rd stanza)

The Empire is calling, my son, my son.

I who gave birth to you, echo her call,

Fight till the Death, till the battle is won,

Deem it an honour if fighting you fall -

'The Gift' (1st stanza)

All that I have, England, I give to you.

Gladly through tears, I see my son depart.

You gave me all, so I, with grateful heart,

Give you my child, so loyal and so true,

But perhaps McCrae's most remarkable poem is where she writes of her real life brother, Geoffrey Gordon McCrae, who had then just enlisted and was later killed at Fromelles.

'Geoffrey' (2nd stanza)

On the day that you volunteered

We were smitten down by grief,

But skies have changed and winds have veered,

And now - of our joys, it's chief,

For 'tis the greatest, grandest thing

To give a soldier to the King.

All up, McCrae's early wartime poems are a world away from works such as Randolph Bedford's 'The Earl of Anzac' (1916) or Mary Gilmore's 'The Mother' (1917), which were written later in the war, when the human cost of the confict was being keenly felt at home.

This year marks the centenary of the outbreak of World War I, a momentous and tragic event which has left an enduring mark on Australian culture and society. Mid-year we’ll be launching the AustLit World War I project, where we’ll be examining the creative literary response to the war and looking at the ways in which Australian authors have written about the war.

In the mean time we’ll be running a series of blog posts which will briefly look at some of the authors and literature of the war years, which for one reason or another have caught our attention. This week we focus on an interesting episode which took place in the early months of 1915, when soldier poet Frank Westbrook became involved in a newspaper slanging match with official Australian war correspondent Charles Bean.

Gunner Frank Westbrook was one of the many soldier poets of World War I. Before the war he had worked as a cook. He was 25 years of age when he enlisted in September 1914. The following month he left Melbourne with the 2nd Field Artillery on HMAT Shropshire, bound for Egypt. During the war Westbrook saw action at Gallipoli and later on the Western Front. Despite being wounded, he survived the war and eventually returned to Australia.

Westbrook's literary output appears to have been almost entirely limited to the war years. He evidently claimed that he had not written a single verse prior to enlisting, and from what we can establish, he wrote only a handful of works after war’s end. On one level Westbrook’s poems are unremarkable, though the fact that many were penned at Gallipoli is of itself perhaps remarkable. It is unclear whether Westbrook ever became particularly well known among the reading public. Several of his poems were published in the Australian newspapers during the course of the war. His modest wartime selection, Anzac and After (1916), which was kindly reviewed in the press, became available in Australia in late 1916. Some years afterwards he published a second selection of poems, Echoes of Anzac (1930), which included many of the works from Anzac and After.

Regardless of Westbrook’s standing as a poet, he is an interesting figure in that during the months prior to the Gallipoli campaign, he became involved in what amounted to a public slanging match with official Australian war correspondent Charles Bean. At the time, Australian troops had been stationed in Egypt. Initially it had been intended that they would undergo further training there and then be deployed in Europe on the Western Front. However, this was to change when Churchill’s plan to attack the Gallipoli peninsula was put in train.

As things transpired, by late December 1914, the behaviour of Australian troops on leave in Cairo was becoming something of a problem for military authorities, who were concerned at the level of public drunkenness and the incidence of venereal disease within the ranks. Under instructions from Major General Sir William Bridges, commander of the 1st Australian Division, war correspondent Bean briefly raised the matter in a dispatch, which was published in the Australian newspapers in January and February 1915.

Over the following weeks, Bean’s dispatch came in for a good deal of attention in the press, with Bean often being criticised for having insulted the reputation of the Australian troops in Egypt. When the troops in Egypt became aware of the dispatch, they too entered the fray, with many writing letters to family and friends in Australia, protesting their innocence and expressing their annoyance with Bean. A number of these letters were in turn published in the press.

It was in this context that Westbrook penned his scathing satirical poem, ‘To Our Critic’, which lambasted Bean for having defamed the Australian troops in Egypt and ridiculed him as a whining wowser. Initially published in the Egyptian Mail, the poem circulated widely in the Australian newspapers during April 1915.

The outcry at Bean’s dispatch appears to have reached such a level that Bean found it necessary to issue a clarification, stating (with a good deal of justification) that he had in effect been misrepresented, whilst at the same time praising the Australian troops. However, far from calming the waters, Bean’s clarification served only to further irritate poet Westbrook, who penned a second barb in reply, ‘On Our Critic’s Apologies’.

From an historical perspective the episode is interesting because it reveals how at this point, the authorities in Australia were still learning how to control and manage the way in which the war was reported in the press. But the episode is also notable because it is one of the few instances where we find the literature of the war being at odds with officialdom. No doubt the authorities, Bean included, learned a good deal from what had transpired and from this point on, controversies involving the supposed indiscipline Australian troops weren't allowed to play out in the newspapers in this manner. As it happened, with the landing at Gallipoli, the episode was quickly overtaken by events and it faded into the background.