Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family

Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family

Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958

WWP23049

1919 June 24

Letter from Jon Bouman to his family, mentions signing of the Peace Treaty.

Gift of William C. and Evelina Suhler

Correspondence

Paris Peace Conference (1919-1920)

Rachel Dark

Denise Montgomery

Austin Shifflett

English

Evelina Suhler is the granddaughter of Jon Anthony Bouman and inherited the family collection of his letters from the years of World War I. She and her husband gave the letters to the Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum in 2013.

Dearest -

    At last, they’re going to sign! This evening, as I was going out to dinner, the people were already crowding into the streets, all smiling and happy, for it has been a time of great strain and tension, to see troop trains once more moving towards the frontiers, in case the Huns should refuse, by some unconceivable obstinacy, to bow to the inevitable. But fat Madame Maliverney of the little eating house, wipes away a furtive tear at the prospect of all her babies (the American soldiers) going home. “And you will be going soon too, my poor one,” she said to me. And when I showed her the picture of my babes, she wanted me to bring wife and all of ‘em over here! But I said living was too dear in Paris.

    Friday being my day off, I went to see Malmaison, where the roses came from and which is full of Napoleonic relics. It was a treat to get out of the noise and bustle of the town in this quiet sylvan retreat, where nothing was heard but the birds’ songs. Being a week day, nobody was about and I, with an elderly Frenchman and his wife were the only visitors. I enjoyed the trip greatly and afterwards went through beautiful woods to Vaucresson, then walked to Saint Cloud, where I arrived in time for dinner which I had on a balcony overlooking the Seine. It is a sweet landscape, and I wished so much you were here with me as it would just have been the trip you would have enjoyed. These county restaurants however vie with the town ones in “soaking you good and hard” as the Americans say. They just charge what they like and they get it, although one gets a far better and more varied meal than in similar places in England, where cold mutton and cheese are always the menu.

    Now when I get back to England I am afraid I shall not have that weekday off. You see it works allright for me: Friday off; Saturday morning off, afternoon rest, night work, Sunday morning rest, and the other part of Sunday off. So I was able on Sunday afternoon (yesterday) to see the opening of the Pershing Stadium; at Joinville le Pont near Paris. What a crowd! and the dust! and the motors! Afterwards I walked along the banks of the Marne for a couple of hours and had dinner on the riverbank in a hotel garden, a most beautiful spot. It is so annoying you couldn’t be with me, for we shall never have such chances in England. However, with all the glorious uncertainties of life, one never knows what may happen.

    Mr. Roberts will probably go to American for a holiday in July, but I hope he will not want to keep me here until he comes back. I have heard no indication of any change so far, but of course that was impossible until matters had taken a definite course. The next thing is to get the President off to America which will release a number of people for other duties. I don’t even know when Jones in London is going to retire. I suppose that would be settled in New York. So we can only hope that it will not be such a desperately long time before we are reunited.

    Aunt L. wrote me for my birthday and wanted me to tell you how useful your big parcel had been to her. She has had an attack of “gallstone colic” and has to keep to a diet, but is otherwise well, and sends love.

    I was rather touched by the enclosed piece of poetry from the NY Herald.

    Hoping to have a letter soon, with all my love,

P.S.
How are you off for money? If you have paid off all we owe, let me know how much you have left at the Bank, and I will make it up to £35 so that you can start July fairly. Let me know soon, because the end of the month is getting near. J.

[Enclosed: Undated newspaper clipping from the New York Herald, Paris, of poem titled: “A Father at the Grave of His Son Killed Flying in Air” by Wade Chance.]

Letter

Bouman Family