Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts

Friday, 18 October 2013

Flying visits

Well, we are off again.

I will be away from my blog for two to three weeks.

We are visiting Melbourne because AGA's father is gravely ill.  He has been ill for a few months and while he is a strong man both physically and mentally, we are told that there is little hope.  He has been given one year at the most.

Of course such predicitions are just that: Predictions.  No one can really know the length of another person's days, and as a colleague of mine pointed out only yesterday, the condition all each of us is 'terminal', from the day we are born.

So we are going back to see AGA's Father; to be with him; and to spend time in his company.

It is at times like these that the tyranny of distance comes into it's own.  Even in these days of e-mail, and skype, and all the other niceties of 21st Century life that have made instant gratification a by-word for modern living; there is nothing like being 'there' - rather than doing so vicariously from 'here' via a length of fibre optic cable and a satellite...

On the bright side, we will also be there for my Mother's birthday - the first time in ten years that this has been possible, and we will be in Melbourne, which is always a nice place to be.

So I will say adieu for the moment, and we will be back in early November.

In the meantime, I have left you a couple of glasses of cider, and a 'Homes and Antiques' magazine for you to enjoy yourself with:


Oh, and there is also a copy of 'Daggers in the Forum' by Keith Richardson if you are interested . . .

Saturday, 10 November 2012

11 November





This is the story of two young men.

Cousins - or if you want to be precise, second cousins because the grandmother of one and the grandfather of the other were siblings.

The first was born in Lincolnshire in the year 1895.  His parents named him Leslie James Denman. He was their first child.

The second was born in Nottinghamshire in the year 1898.  He already had two brothers and his parents named him Will.  Not William.  Will.

Leslie's father was the Vicar of Gainsborough.

Will's father was an electrical engineer who specialised in the theatre.  When Will was still a baby, the family moved to Staffordshire, taking up residence in the town of Stoke-on-Trent.

Both boys grew up within a loving family.  Both went to school.  Both had friends and fights and adventures.

Leslie had a good life at St. Edwards.  Excelling in sports, he was a member of the School's Cricket XI and Rugby Football XV, in both of which he 'gained his colours'.  Fond of amateur dramatics, he had taken part in various theatrical events staged by his father at Gainsborough. In 1913, aged eighteen, he left school and became an undergraduate at Christ's College, Cambridge.

This photograph of Christ's College, Cambridge comes from Wikimedia Commons
In 1913 Will had presumably finished school.  Unlike Leslie, his is a hidden life and we know little although I am told he wanted to become an engineer like his father and elder brother, Arthur Llewelyn.

The cousins had an ancestor who had fought at the Battle of Waterloo.
The story handed down about him was that in the aftermath of the battle, he wandered the battlefield and later declared to the family that after Waterloo there would never be another battle because humanity could not, and would not, put up with such another huge loss of life.  From that point on no members of the family joined the military and the family directed its talents to the arts and to the mercantile world instead.

All this changed however in the 1914, when what was known as the 'Great War' began and the lives of the majority of young men and women throughout the world, changed forever.

At University, Leslie joined the Officers Training Corp.  He was gazetted in September of 1914 and joined the Lincolnshire Regiment.  His father accepted this with a heavy heart.

Leslie entered the 'Theatre of War' in February of 1915, with his battalion.  Thanks to his training he was now a Lieutenant however a few months later he caught enteric fever (a form of typhoid) and invalided home.

Meanwhile, despite the fact that none of the family had lived in Wales for many years, Will's father was fearlessly proud of his aristocratic Welsh heritage.  Were they not descended from the Wild Knight of Caer Howel?
Will's father had tried in vain to gain back the ancestral lands on the Welsh borders, pending large amounts of money in the process.  Now was his chance for his sons to follow in the ancestors' footsteps and he directed them to join the Welsh Regiment, as his own brother Henry had done.
Will was young.  In 1914 he was just sixteen years of age.  He decided to join the Army Cycling Corps instead but when this was disbanded he too joined the Welsh Regiment.  He was now a Private in the 16th Battalion.

This Photograph of Soldiers in northern France during WWI comes from Wikimedia Commons.
Late in 1915, having completed his training, Will also entered the 'Theatre of War'.

After a few months of recuperation, Leslie returned to his regiment in October 1915 and received a promotion.  He was now a Captain.  His scholarly younger brother Aubrey had also joined up, becoming a Lieutenant.

Will remained a Private.  His service number was 40660.  He marched.  He used his gun: His weapon of war.

In December of 1915 Leslie was sent to Egypt.

In Europe the enemy were using poison gas.  In April of that year they had launched chlorine gas against Canadian troops in the Second Battle of Ypres.  This was the first time gas has been used as weapon in this war. The result was horrible.

Leslie returned to the nightmare that was the Western Front, in February of 1916.  He was stationed with his men near Mont St. Eloi in northern France.

He was killed a few weeks later.

In writing to his grieving parents, his commanding officer stated:
"He was a gallant officer, never hesitating to expose himself when necessary, and setting a fine example to both officers and men with whom he was on the best of terms.  He is much regretted by all ranks and particularly by his  brother officers who admired his cheery spirit, good society, and never-failing courage.
(The Times, 25 March 1916, Page 6)

Months passed and on the 19th of August 1916, Will and his battalion arrived at Ypres.  Fighting was fierce on both sides.

Just outside of Boezinges lay the famous Essex Farm military hospital.  It was here that in the previous year, the solider poet John McCrae had penned the words that would become the famous poem 'In Flanders Fields'.  By the time Will arrived he had left and was serving at Boulogne in his capacity as a physician.

Less than one month passed and Will was dead.

Meeting his uncle Henry some time later, Arthur Llewelyn told him how Will had died.  The brothers had found themselves stationed near to each other, when the order came to advance.  They had run forward amidst the bursting of bombs and the sound of bullets.  At one point something made Arthur turn his head and he saw his brother shot and fall.  But this was war and he could not stop.
Despite his sudden tears and the ache in his heart, he must push forward.  To stop might mean not only his own death but the failure of the 'push'.  Later he searched the battlefield until he located Will's body and then got him back to the camp for burial.  This last thing he could do for his dead brother.

The Cemetery at Essex Farm in war conditions.  I can't remember where I found this photograph.
* * * * * * * * * * * 

Leslie was buried at Mont St. Eloi.  He was twenty years of age.

Will was buried at Essex Farm Cemetery.  He was eighteen years of age.

Back in England the grieving parents received the news they dreaded.

Any feelings of 'romance' for war was well and truly dead and buried.

As dead and buried as theirs sons.

This Photograph of Will's grave was taken by Kirk Dale.
This Photograph of Leslie's grave was taken by Kirk Dale.

Sunday, 21 October 2012

Visiting Q'burg (part two)

This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
Quedlinburg is situated in an area known as the Harz Mountains.  Here, in former times, belief in witches was widespread and they were greatly feared.  Not far away, near to the town of Thale, is the 'hexentanzplatz' (witches dancing place) where it was believed they met to plot and plan and I guess, to dance.  The Quedlinburgers feared the witches and we were told that they covered their houses with numerous signs to ward them off.  These can still be seen today, carved in to the woodwork:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
..............................

Interestingly, Quedlinburg is not just a 'mediaeval town'.  It has some fine examples of the Art Nouveau  (called Jugenstil in German).  This front door is an example:

This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
Meanwhile, at the rear of our hotel stands a large, old, house in a fairly typical Quedlinburger street.  It was in a very sorry state.  I would love to have been able to take it over, do it up and live in it!
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
The outside of the house looked sturdy enough although a sign on the wall stated that it was marked for 'redevelopment':
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
 The inside had been gutted:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
The state of this house saddened me.  I am sure it had an interesting history and situated as it was, beside one of the streams that flow through the town, it had a pleasant aspect.  What a shame that it was sitting there, a shadow of its former self:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
We were busy walking about and exploring the old town when joy of joys, just around the corner from a mustard shop, I spotted a large amount of conkers just waiting to be collected:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
I picked five or six and with them safely in my pocket we went for a rather pleasant meal at a local restaurant.  After that it was time for bed, having had a full and rather interesting day.

Our second morning in Quedlinburg saw blue skies and the sun shining down upon us all:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
Having settled our account we took our bags to the car and then went for a last walk around.  We had a mission in mind: to visit the castle/palace and the abbey church, both of which sit high on a hill overlooking the old town:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
It was here at Quedlinburg, according to legend, that Henry of Saxony, nicknamed 'the Fowler', was offered the crown of Germany in about the year 919.  A plaque on one of the houses commemorates this event:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
When Henry died his wife Matilda (St. Matilda of Ringelheim) asked his successor to grant her the land now known as Quedlinburg so that she could build a royal abbey there to serve as Henry's sepulchre.  This request was granted and the resulting buildings are here for us to view today.  This is the palace:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
From that point on, Quedlinburg was ruled by a series of abbesses, starting with St. Matilda herself.  She would later be buried there, at the side of her husband.  After the Reformation in Germany, the role of abbess was taken on by various protestant princesses, although their role was secular rather than overtly religious.  As a result the convent was transformed into a palace of some splendour.  This one of the Drawing Rooms within the palace, containing a selection of what is termed 'Biedermeier' furniture:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale
 I am rather partial to chandeliers.  I could easily have taken this one home with us:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale. 
Here is a shoe belonging to one of the later secular abbesses of Quedlinburg:

This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
And here is a page from one of the books on display showing a Dodo and an 'Indian Pig' which looks to me like a guinea pig:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale
 This rather nice settle caught our eye:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
 As did this empire day bed:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
From the palace we moved on to the abbey church:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
The abbey church sits opposite the palace, separated by a small courtyard.
In the 1930s it became somewhat infamous due to the nefarious activities of Heinrich Himmler and the National Socialist Party.  If I understand things correctly, Himmler secretly believed himself to be the reincarnation of Henry the Fowler and decided to raise him up for the people as a sort of German ideal, because he had subjugated the Slavic peoples of the time.  Wanting to go one step further, Himmler and his associates made plans for the eradication of Christianity within Germany.  This would then be replaced by a new religion centred around the National Socialist Party. Quedlinburg was to become the headquarters for all this and in preparation, the Lutheran clergy were evicted and old Henry's body was disinterred, then reburied with all the paraphernalia that accompanied the National Socialist Party and its stark beliefs.  The War however interrupted these plans and once it was over, the Lutheran Church once again took control of the site and Henry was once again disinterred and then reinterred.  I am not sure what happened to St Matilda during all this carry-on but within the abbey crypt is a very interesting exhibition that documents it all.  Interestingly Himmler's tomb was not totally destroyed but rather broken up, along with the eagle emblem that accompanied it, and retained for posterity:
Here is the 'Himmler' tomb, with the lid broken asunder:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
And here is the National Socialist eagle, also broken up, while one of their candlesticks has been wrapped in barbed wire:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
Should these National Socialist 'relics' have been kept or destroyed utterly?  At first I felt affronted that the old king's remains should had been treated in such a way by Himmler, but then I reasoned that it is good that such things are kept, to show posterity the lengths that dictatorships can go to.  Plus, it all forms part of the history of this place - both the good and the bad.

The interior of the abbey church itself is rather barren but it does have a very nice museum that contains the abbey treasures including some things that had been stolen by an American serviceman at the end of World War II and only recently returned.  No photographs were allowed but on display is a 1st Century alabaster urn said to have been used by Our Lord to turn water in to wine at the Wedding of Cana!  Here is the Church interior:

This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
I did like this door handle, cleverly fashioned into a curly-tailed dog jumping through a hoop:

This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
The site makes for some nice photographic opportunities as we looked back down on Quedlinburg:
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
The old part of Quedlinburg, together with the abbey church and the palace, is a UNESCO World Heritage site.  It is easy to see why.
This Photograph was taken by Kirk Dale.
This Photograph was not taken by Kirk Dale, it was taken by AGA.
There was just time for some short reflection on what we had seen before we were back in the car and off on the next leg of our journey - but more of that later. . .

I hope you enjoyed this second part of our journey to Quedlinburg!  I have tried to give you a flavour of what it is like to visit.