When a young adult, on account of ill-health, he received a home education in preparation for admission to the University of Oxford. A recurrence of ill health prevented this, and, consequently, he was ordered off to the South of France to recuperate. During his stay there his literary activities flourished and he published "The Amethyst Scarab"-a volume of 40 pages which received an enthusiastic welcome from the Press.
This was followed by the "Lay of the Stone Table "- a yuletide poem set as an Arthurian legend.
Further to this he compiled and contributed thirteen biographies for Dr C H Poole's series "Poets of The Shires" and was later joint author with Dr Poole of "Staffordshire Poets" in this series. This entailed much day to day correspondence with living poets and or with their descendants, details noted in his own handwritten personal diaries.
After a severe examination he was awarded the diploma Phi1.B. and also the F.S.B. of La Societe Internationale de Philologie, Sciences,et Beaux Arts.
His next work was "The Glory of Belgium" , an anthology,tribute and chronicle containing much then unpublished war poetry, including poems by his close associates F.W.Orde Ward, Emile Cammaerts,Henri Leon and, of course, himself using his nom de plume, "Ingersley". The poem The Taking of the guns at Mons, by Henri Leon, given that the battle was the catalyst for trench warfare is particularly apposite now.
Russell Markland donated the proceeds of the book to the Belgian repatriation Fund.
In 1916 he published, in booklet form a presentation on "The Poetry of H. Rex Freston "- an unsung hero soldier-poet, killed in action in France, January 24th, 1916. Freston's romantic poems can be compared with justice to those of Wordsworth and Keats, and his war poems to those of Brooke, Owen, and Sassoon. Markland's admiration for Freston, he later corresponded over the years with Freston's parents, is evident in his requiem to the poet, read by him to the Societe International on the 7th March 1916.
Our ways have never crossed, and yet,
Though now our hands may never meet,
I feel the sorrow of regret,
Lie darkly on the written sheet.
For I a privilege have known
That granted to few has been -
The things that from your verse have grown,
The things that from your verse have grown,
Your last rare thoughts my eyes have seen.
And I have read the splendid line,
And I have read the splendid line,
And understood the dauntless soul,
That sought and held all things Divine
And wrought them to a perfect whole,
Silent your song, yet while you sung
And wrought them to a perfect whole,
Silent your song, yet while you sung
You voiced your heart as one inspired
And dared to cry with fearless tongue
The faith that all your being fired.
With conquered doubt and courage high,
With conquered doubt and courage high,
With prophet eyes you faced the sun,
Armed from within could death defy!
You fought, and fighting fell - and won!
I will not ask why you should go,
Or whence this sudden grief and pain
I will not ask why you should go,
Or whence this sudden grief and pain
But this undying truth I know -
You have not lived or died in vain.
From out the shadow of your doom
You raise a lamp with steadfast flame,
You have not lived or died in vain.
From out the shadow of your doom
You raise a lamp with steadfast flame,
That bums with light transcending gloom
To lead us on to your fair fame!
In 1916 Russell Markland published a further volume of poems under the title of "Ultimate Light," dedicated to the memory of his friend and cousin, Captain Alan Hodgkinson, of the Warwickshire Regiment; the 52 pages of this book, containing 36 poems, lengthy and short, many of them perfect gems of thought and literary expression, fulfil the promise of his earlier work and cemented his reputation.
In 1916 Russell Markland published a further volume of poems under the title of "Ultimate Light," dedicated to the memory of his friend and cousin, Captain Alan Hodgkinson, of the Warwickshire Regiment; the 52 pages of this book, containing 36 poems, lengthy and short, many of them perfect gems of thought and literary expression, fulfil the promise of his earlier work and cemented his reputation.
TO FORGET
How can a thing so perfect die
When the rapture lingers yet
As the Love of youth and its faith and truth?
How can a heart forget?
Never shall fade the joy divine
When lips and true hearts met.
This will I keep till the last long sleep,
And beyond - I will not forget.
But O to forget how a glance could change,
How the sun of love could set!
And the nameless pain of a sweet thing slain
Oh God ! to forget ! to forget !
Equally moving is Markland's text "In Memorium of F.W.Orde Ward" which prefaces the latter's Shelley Centenary 1922 presentation. The following extracts from his handwritten personal diaries, 1919 and 1922 are to hand, give a fine insight to these times.
