Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Title
Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family
Creator
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958
Identifier
WWP23078
Date
1919 November 30
Description
Letter from Jon Bouman to his family.
Source
Gift of William C. and Evelina Suhler
Subject
Correspondence
Paris Peace Conference (1919-1920)
Contributor
Rachel Dark
Denise Montgomery
Language
English
Requires
PROOFREADING
Provenance
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.
Text
Nov. 30th 13 Place de la Bourse
Paris
Saturday night
Dearest;
Thursday night I left Roberts a note asking if he agreed that I should go to London about the middle of December for the remainder of my holiday that is due to me, so that if I was appointed to the London staff, I could start in say on Jan. 1st. He left me the enclosed note in reply and I have since had a talk with him on the subject. He let me read a letter from Collins which explains his attitude, which is that while it is true Jones doesn’t fill his part to satisfaction, the A.P. does not want to dismiss him with a pension amounting to about one third of his salary which is not sufficient for him, his wife and two daughters to live on. I didn’t know he had two daughters to support, but so it appears. His salary was pound 7 plus pound 1 war allowance, so you can see what he would get. I can fully understand Collins not wanting to put Jones into Queer street. We have the same case here, a Frenchman called Pecherin who enjoys the title of “chief manager and clerk” has been away for three months and is now back again; completely useless and more (of) a nuisance than anything else, his memory having gone, yet Roberts does not want to pension him off right away in these expensive times. However, Collins hinted at wanting some more assistance on the night job with Pugh, and if that is the offer I shall take it, much as I dislike regular night work. But perhaps I might find it suited me, I don’t know. One argument of Roberts is unanswerable, namely that I might be of more use to the A.P. on the continent than in England owing to my knowledge of languages. But with all of that, when are we going to live together again? Roberts thinks it may yet be possible for me to go to London for Xmas. I should think so. I find it most humiliating to have to wait the good pleasure of one man, who isn’t especially interested in my holiday, to say whether I may go home or not. But what is one to do with less than pound 5 at the Bank? One has just to grind one’s teeth in silence. So what will come of it all I know not.
Lockwell Thomson telephoned to my hotel when I was out, and I have sent him a note asking him to dine with me on Sunday. I don’t suppose he knew I had a night job on Saturdays.
So I hope I shall see him.
Sorry to hear you have all had bad colds: I also had a beauty; an internal one something like I had at The Hague before you came. Last week’s day off I spent in bed but fortunately did not need a doctor and it has been slowly on the mend since. Glad you received my draught all right. You must have felt that draught and possibly that gave you the cold. Sorry I have to make this rotten joke, dear, otherwise I am feeling far from facetious. The weather has been most treacherous and miserable lately; today first glimpses of sunshine for days. I went on Friday to the Carnavalet Museum where everything pertaining to the city of Paris is kept, from the time of the Romans upward. I saw a skeleton of a Roman in his sarcophagus. Perhaps he wanted to get back to Rome but wasn’t allowed by his centurion. And now it’s all the same to him: Maybe everything is for the best!
With love to all,
Thine, Jack
Enclosures: Front and back of postcard from Musee Carnavalet, of the cradle of the son of Napoleon III and Empress Eugenie, donated by the Empress in 1856.
Enclosures: Front and back of a postcard from Musee Carnavalet, of a portrait of George Sand,
wearing men’s clothing.
Paris
Saturday night
Dearest;
Thursday night I left Roberts a note asking if he agreed that I should go to London about the middle of December for the remainder of my holiday that is due to me, so that if I was appointed to the London staff, I could start in say on Jan. 1st. He left me the enclosed note in reply and I have since had a talk with him on the subject. He let me read a letter from Collins which explains his attitude, which is that while it is true Jones doesn’t fill his part to satisfaction, the A.P. does not want to dismiss him with a pension amounting to about one third of his salary which is not sufficient for him, his wife and two daughters to live on. I didn’t know he had two daughters to support, but so it appears. His salary was pound 7 plus pound 1 war allowance, so you can see what he would get. I can fully understand Collins not wanting to put Jones into Queer street. We have the same case here, a Frenchman called Pecherin who enjoys the title of “chief manager and clerk” has been away for three months and is now back again; completely useless and more (of) a nuisance than anything else, his memory having gone, yet Roberts does not want to pension him off right away in these expensive times. However, Collins hinted at wanting some more assistance on the night job with Pugh, and if that is the offer I shall take it, much as I dislike regular night work. But perhaps I might find it suited me, I don’t know. One argument of Roberts is unanswerable, namely that I might be of more use to the A.P. on the continent than in England owing to my knowledge of languages. But with all of that, when are we going to live together again? Roberts thinks it may yet be possible for me to go to London for Xmas. I should think so. I find it most humiliating to have to wait the good pleasure of one man, who isn’t especially interested in my holiday, to say whether I may go home or not. But what is one to do with less than pound 5 at the Bank? One has just to grind one’s teeth in silence. So what will come of it all I know not.
Lockwell Thomson telephoned to my hotel when I was out, and I have sent him a note asking him to dine with me on Sunday. I don’t suppose he knew I had a night job on Saturdays.
So I hope I shall see him.
Sorry to hear you have all had bad colds: I also had a beauty; an internal one something like I had at The Hague before you came. Last week’s day off I spent in bed but fortunately did not need a doctor and it has been slowly on the mend since. Glad you received my draught all right. You must have felt that draught and possibly that gave you the cold. Sorry I have to make this rotten joke, dear, otherwise I am feeling far from facetious. The weather has been most treacherous and miserable lately; today first glimpses of sunshine for days. I went on Friday to the Carnavalet Museum where everything pertaining to the city of Paris is kept, from the time of the Romans upward. I saw a skeleton of a Roman in his sarcophagus. Perhaps he wanted to get back to Rome but wasn’t allowed by his centurion. And now it’s all the same to him: Maybe everything is for the best!
With love to all,
Thine, Jack
Enclosures: Front and back of postcard from Musee Carnavalet, of the cradle of the son of Napoleon III and Empress Eugenie, donated by the Empress in 1856.
Enclosures: Front and back of a postcard from Musee Carnavalet, of a portrait of George Sand,
wearing men’s clothing.
Original Format
Letter
To
Bouman Family
Files
Collection
Citation
Bouman, Jon Anthony, 1873-1958, “Jon Bouman to the Bouman Family,” 1919 November 30, WWP23078, Jon Anthony Bouman Collection, Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum, Staunton, Virginia.