|
Patrick Houston Shaw-Stewart was born at Aber Artro Hall, near Llanbedr, on 17th August 1888. He was the third of four children of Major-General John Heron Maxwell Shaw-Stewart, Royal Engineers (retired), and his wife Mary Catherine (née Bedingfield). His siblings were Basil Heron (1877), Mary Isobel (c.1867), and Katherine (1893). |
|
|
In 1901 Patrick won a scholarship to Eton College, where he excelled academically. He continued to distinguish himself after entering Balliol College, Oxford, in 1907, gaining numerous prizes in Classics and becoming a prominent member of the Oxford Union. He achieved a rare double First in Classical Moderations and Greats, was elected a Fellow of All Souls College, and entered the Inner Temple. Despite these academic and legal distinctions, he had already accepted a position with Barings Bank, embarking upon a financial career of remarkable early success.
|
 |
|
Diana Manners |
|
Patrick was a leading member of the so-called “corrupt coterie”, a celebrated circle of aristocratic and intellectual young men and women whose members included Diana Manners, widely considered the most beautiful woman of her era. He corresponded with her profusely and with striking emotional intimacy from 1908 until only days before his death. By 1913 he had become a managing director at Barings at the age of just twenty-five. He was in the United States on business shortly before the outbreak of war.
Returning to England, Patrick was commissioned as a Sub-Lieutenant in the Howe Battalion. He was initially sent to Dunkirk, serving first as an interpreter to the Royal Marines deployed there and subsequently as an Embarkation Officer. On rejoining the Division he was transferred to Hood Battalion in December 1914. |
|
|
During the voyage to the Dardanelles, Patrick composed a single poem, Achilles in the Trenches. Unknown during his lifetime and never intended for publication, the poem nonetheless possesses a depth of classical allusion, emotional restraint, and moral clarity that has since secured his reputation as a war poet. Written at sea, with Gallipoli still ahead of him, it confronts the ancient heroic ideal through the lens of modern industrial warfare, setting Achilles’ choice beside his own. Patrick would later command the firing party that released a volley over Rupert Brooke’s grave during his burial on Skyros — an act that binds his poetic voice irrevocably to the lived experience of the Division. |
|
At Gallipoli, Patrick was promoted to Lieutenant on 8th June. On 7th July his service record notes his admission to hospital at Imbros, though no reason is given. He did not return to the peninsula, instead being appointed Liaison Officer at General Headquarters. For his work with the French he was awarded both the Legion of Honour and the Croix de Chevalier on 27th January 1916.
In March 1916 a telegram was received requesting that Patrick be released from his liaison appointment at MEF General Headquarters. His RNVR commission and appointment to the Royal Naval Division were terminated, and he was transferred to the Army. For the remainder of the year he served attached to French forces at Salonica.
Following the heavy casualties suffered by Hood Battalion at Gavrelle, Arthur Asquith — newly appointed its commanding officer — requested the return of six former Hood officers. Patrick rejoined the battalion in May 1917 as a Lieutenant with seniority, becoming the senior Company Commander. The following month he was promoted Temporary Lieutenant-Commander. When Asquith was promoted to command the 189th Brigade, Patrick became the temporary commanding officer of Hood Battalion.
|
London Gazette
17th March 1916 |
|
|
|
During the opening barrage of the enemy assault on 30th December 1917, Patrick was struck by a fragment of shell and died within minutes. He was buried at Metz-en-Couture Cemetery on 6th January 1918. |
|
 |
I saw a man this morning
Who did not wish to die;
I ask, and cannot answer,
If otherwise wish I.
Fair broke the day this morning
Upon the Dardanelles:
The breeze blew soft, the morn's cheeks
Were cold as cold sea-shells.
But other shells are waiting
Across the Aegean Sea;
Shrapnel and high explosives,
Shells and hells for me.
Oh Hell of ships and cities,
Hell of men like me,
Fatal second Helen,
Why must I follow thee?
Achilles came to Troyland
And I to Chersonese;
He turned from wrath to battle,
And I from three days' peace.
Was it so hard, Achilles,
So very hard to die?
Thou knowest, and I know not;
So much the happier am I.
I will go back this morning
From Imbros o'er the sea.
Stand in the trench, Achilles,
Flame-capped, and shout for me. |
|
|