Archive | May, 2018

375 Years Too Late.

27 May

It was the weekend of the Royal Wedding and I was travelling down to London. No, I wasn’t planning to travel on to Windsor, drape the Union Jack around me and cheer on the happy couple. Far from it, in fact. I am an ardent Republican and would like nothing better than to see the end of the expensive and anachronistic institution of the monarchy. I was actually going to see my son and his family who live on the western edge of the capital. My train journey south did however have a Royal connection and one that I was quite excited about. I planned to break my journey at Peterborough and go to see Queen Catherine of Aragon’s tomb in the cathedral there. One would expect that all  Royal tombs in England would be found in Westminster Abbey, London. However, this particular queen was laid to rest 75 miles north in a small Cambridgeshire city on the edge of the Fens. I only found this out relatively recently while watching the TV dramatisation of Hilary Mantell’s excellent historical novel “Wolf Hall.” It follows the machiavellian role of Thomas Cromwell in Henry VIII’s difficult, drawn out divorce from his first wife, the aforesaid Catherine. When Catherine died in 1536 after 3 years of enforced, unhappy post-divorce isolation, Henry refused to grant her a place of honour at Westminster and said words to the effect of “stick her in Peterborough.”

Peterborough Cathedral is one of the most intact, large Norman buildings in England. Its official name is the Cathedral Church of St Peter, St Paul and St Andrew. It stands on the site of a monastery, Medehamstede, founded in Anglo-Saxon times in AD 655 and was largely rebuilt between 1118 and 1238. Today its imposing West Front is an outstanding example of  the Early English Gothic style. Following his Dissolution of the Monasteries King Henry VIII kept Peterborough Abbey intact as one of a small group of more secular Cathedrals. This was in 1541. The reason for this was probably that the Abbey/cathedral was very prosperous and would bring in good amounts of money for the Crown. Some romantics have suggested that Peterborough Abbey was made a cathedral as a memorial to Catherine. Who knows what might have been going through the mind of that unpredictable Tudor monarch?

I have travelled through Peterborough many times on my way to and from London on the east coast main line. I always remember to glance out of the window to spot the towers of the medieval cathedral peeping out from behind a modern shopping mall. I have been to the city for 2 unsuccessful job interviews and a couple of exam markers’ conferences. In the 1960s it was designated as Britain’ latest New Town which prompted a big expansion of its population up to about 180,000.  I remember it for its anonymous housing estates, carefully demarcated industrial estates, retail parks and dozens and dozens of identical roundabouts. I got lost there quite a few times as this was before the age of the sat-nav. I used to live just a little to the south in Stevenage New Town, Hertfordshire. Yet in all that time I never visited the cathedral and wasn’t even aware of the Royal tomb’s existance. I had seen grand, ornamental Tudor tombs before, in Westminster Abbey and other ancient churches up and down the land. Now I knew it was there, I was really looking forward to seeing the tomb of this famous Tudor Queen.

Although a republican today, I have always retained a soft spot for Catherine of Aragon. It’s the history teacher part of me that is to blame. Queen Catherine is one of the 2 reasons why my second daughter shares her name. The other reason is my favourite Hollywood actress: Katherine Hepburn. I always thought that Catherine of Aragon got a very raw deal at the hands of her chauvenistic, cruel husband, but conducted herself with grace and dignity at all times.

The daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain, she was brought up to be a queen. In her late teens, in 1501, she was married off to Prince Arthur, the eldest son of King Henry VII and heir to the throne of England. Her title at that point was the Princess of Wales, but she was destined to become the next Queen. Sadly though, just a year later, Arthur died before gaining the throne. Catherine, just a pawn in the power politics of England and Spain, had to quickly shelve her grieving and get married to her deceased husband’s younger brother Henry. She was 19 and he was 17 at the time. Henry and Catherine became King and Queen upon the death of Henry VII in June 1509 and a long, seemingly successful marriage ensued. They had a daughter, Mary, and then they had a son, Henry, Duke of Cornwall. Tragically, baby Henry died after living less than 2 months. Catherine was distraught and worried her family and courtiers by spending many hours kneeling on cold stone floors, praying. She was a very devout Catholic christian. In subsequent years she never gave birth to another son so Mary remained her only child. From Henry’s point of view, this was a disastrous situation. He was convinced that if a daughter succeeded him there would be a civil war, as many powerful people in those sexist times, considered that a woman would be too weak to rule. Perhaps Henry was thinking of what happened when King Henry I was succeeded by his daughter Mathilda. She was challenged by her cousin Stephen and the result was a nasty civil war which led to Mathilda losing her crown. (although she got the last laugh when her son Henry II succeeded the usurper, Stephen.) Therefore, Henry now planned to divorce Catherine and marry a younger, more fertile wife.

As you probably know, Henry VIII was refused permission to divorce Catherine, by the head of the Catholic Church, the Pope. Henry’s eventual solution, helped by Thomas Cromwell, was to take England out of the Roman Catholic Church and make himself the head of a newly created Church of England. Thus he was, in effect, able to grant himself a divorce and go on to marry the new “love” of his life Ann Boleyn. Poor Catherine never agreed to the divorce and always considered herself the rightful Queen. She was stripped of her Royal titles and was now referred to as the Dowager Duchess of Wales. She was given a house and servants but was regarded as an embarrasment as she refused to accept the divorce and continued to regard herself as the Queen. She regarded the new queen, Ann Boleyn, as an imposter. In 1535 she was moved to Kimbolton Castle where she virtually lived in one room. She only left it to go to Mass. She dressed herself in a hair-shirt of the Order of St Francis. On January 7th, 1536, Catherine of Aragon died. As we now know, she was buried in Peterborough Cathedral. Henry spitefully refused to go to the funeral and forbade their daughter, Mary, to attend. However, the funeral was a lavish affair, attended by 4 bishops and 6 abbots as well as large crowds. Ironically, on the very day of Catherine’s funeral, Ann Boleyn sadly miscarried.

Catherine’s tomb was one befitting a Queen. I was really looking forward to finally seeing it. I walked from the railway station through a largely nondescript modern town centre. The best bit was the cathedral square which had an attractive old parish church and a mid 17th century Guildhall or Butter Cross. This is where the market is held. Next I passed through an old stone archway into the Cathedral close. I expected it to be a peaceful, spiritual oasis, a world away from the noisy, bustling town next door. However I was greeted with loud pop music and the sight of yellow helmeted people abseiling down the left hand tower of the cathedral’s magnificent west front. The only valid excuse I could think of was that they were probably doing it for charity. I tried to block this raucous intrusion out of my mind and concentrate on the west front itself. As stated before it’s a rare example of Early English Gothic architecture. Three enormous archways are surmounted by statues of Saints Paul, Peter and Andrew.( looking from left to right). Peter crowns the middle and highest archway. At his feet is a fishing net reminding us of his previous occupation before he was called to be one of Jesus’s chief disciples. He and his fellow followers were now to become “fishers of men.” ( All those Methodist Sunday School lessons have stood me in good stead!) In fact the nickname for the cathedral’s west front is Galilee, after the sea where Peter fished. The city takes its name from Saint Peter.

Blocking out the pop music and the shouting abseilers, I entered what I expected to be the hush of the Cathedral’s interior. Unfortunately it was full of chattering school children. The interior is impressive however with tall stone archways and lovely stained glass windows. At the far end, an impressive “new” bit, built in 1500, has sensational fan vaulting. I stared at it for ages and gave myself neck ache! There is a very old font and interesting information boards giving a history of the Anglo-Saxon abbey that became a  Norman cathedral. However, it was the Tudor Queen’s tomb that I was most interested in. The helpful steward told me it was at the far end , on the left hand side. I approached the area with mounting excitement. Soon I spotted information boards about Catherine of Aragon. This was it, after all these years!

Then came the anti-climax — the tomb which my mind had imagined would be so magnificent, simply wasn’t there! All I saw was an engraved marble slab lying flat on the ground . Alongside it was a fancy wrought iron screen decorated with the inscription: “Catherine Queen of England, 1485-1536.” That was it! I desperately searched for something more ornate and substantial. In my haste and excitement, had I missed it? It was then I spotted another information  board. Catherine of Aragon’s tomb had been destroyed by Cromwellian troops in 1643! After they captured the town from The Royalists in the early struggles of the English Civil War, the Parliamentary soldiers went on the rampage and sacked the cathedral. They destroyed the Lady Chapel, the Chapter House, the cloisters, the High altar and the choir stalls. They wanted to wipe out any signs of Catholicism. Medieval records were ransacked and lost to history. Family tombs were attacked and desecrated. It seems strange and hypocritical that so called christian ( Puritan) soldiers wanted to do this. Of course, catholic Catherine’s tomb was a prime target. It was demolished and the gilt lettering stolen. The only blessing was that her body was left to lie undisturbed. So, if I wanted to see Catherine of Aragon’s tomb, I was 375 years too late!

I consoled myself by staring at the New Chapel’s wonderful fan-vaulting again, and swallowing my disappointment I walked on to the other side of the cathedral. To my amazement I now came across a shrine to Mary, Queen of Scots. She had been buried here as well after her execution at the hands of Elizabeth I. Was I going to see my Royal Tudor tomb afterall? Once again a frisson of excitement surge up inside me. But where was the tomb? Then I read that King James I had had his mother’s body removed from Peterborough and reburied in Westminster Abbey when he ascended the throne in 1603. Foiled again! I was 415 years late for that one! Two Tudor queens had been buried there but neither of their Peterborough tombs had survived.

The last resting place of Catherine of Aragon may not be an ornamental Tudor edifice today but it is still very smart, well kept and dignified. In the late 19th century, the wife of one of the cathedral’s canons, Katherine Clayton, started a public appeal, asking all the Katherines ( Catherines) of England to donate towards a replacement black marble slab that can be seen today. Apparently, after the Roundhead soldiers had smashed up the tomb and stolen the gilt lettering, a dean of the cathedral used the marble for the floor of his summerhouse sometime in the early 1700’s. The appeal was successful and the replacement slab was inscribed with gilt lettering and installed. On her new tomb, Catherine is now referred to as Queen of England. A wooden plaque remembers her as “A Queen cherished by the English people, for her loyalty, piety, courage and compassion.” Her notorious second husband may be more famous but I would argue that Catherine of Aragon deserves much more of our admiration and respect.

Every year, in the weekend closest to 29th January ( the date of Catherine’s passing) a special, Catherine of Aragon festival is held at Peterborough Cathedral. A civic service is held on the Friday, attended by a representative of the Spanish Embassy. Then on the Saturday, a rare Catholic mass is held in this Anglican Cathedral. Hundreds of school children attend in mock Tudor costumes. Flowers and Catherine’s heraldic symbol, the pomegranite, are laid upon the tomb. Ironically, considering her subsequent childbirth travails, the pomegranite is regarded as a symbol of fertility.

Although I was 375 years too late it was still a fascinating visit to Queen Catherine’s last resting place at Peterborough. In my opinion this historical experience was eminantly more interesting than the orgy of swooning, genuflecting and sycophancy that ensued in Windsor the next day. Surely attitudes towards a privileged, immensely wealthy and unelected monarchy should have changed in the 500 years since Tudor times?

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Out Of The Ashes.

6 May

Dresden, a city I’ve just visited, is famous for two main things. The first is that it was widely regarded as one of the most exquisite Baroque cities in Europe. It was dubbed “The Florence of the North”, because of its captivating array of delicate spires, soaring towers and magnificent domes. The huge stone dome of its premier church, the Frauenkirche, inspired by the domes of Italian churches, made it into the most significant Protestant place of worship, north of the Alps. The Bruhlsche Terrasse, an impressive riverside promenade along one bank of the Elbe, was known as the “Balcony of Europe.” It would be great if this Saxon city was famous just for being beautiful. Unfortunately, its other claim to fame is that in February, 1945, its historic centre was completely destroyed by three, devastating Allied bombing raids, towards the end of the Second World War. Its heart was ripped out by the British and American bombs, reducing it to a smouldering heap of rubble. Say “Dresden” to a random collection of people in a word- association exercise, and nine out of ten would  respond with “bombs” not ” Baroque” or “buildings.” As in many cases in life, it’s the negative association that usually wins out. This city now unfortunately stands along Hiroshima as the scene of one of the most infamous atrocities of the entire war.

The greatest catastrophe in the history of Dresden occured on the night of February 13th, 1945. Up to that point it looked as if one of Germany’s most picturesque and culturally important cities would survive the conflict largely unscathed. However, that devastating night changed everything. The sirens began to wail at 9-39pm and the first bombs rained down at 10-13pm. More than 750 British Lancaster bombers dropped their deadly cargo in 2 waves of attack, 3 hours apart. The next day, American bombers came in at midday to finish the job. It was grimly appropriate that the raids came between Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wednesday, because at the end of it all, Dresden’s historic Alstadt ( old town) was literally reduced to ashes. Incendiary bombs had caused a massive firestorm. The ashes fell on surrounding villages up to 35 kms away. Over 35,000 people perished. Many of them were refugees who had fled the advancing Red Army and were taking shelter in the city. The Soviets who later entered the city, claimed that 50,000 people had died. The RAF and USAF double attack on Dresden was the climax of a deliberately destructive bombing policy in which civilian populations and historic buildings were regarded as fair game. It was total war. The sheer extent of the devastation and the fact that thousands of innocent victims of Nazism were slaughtered, put this raid in a different class to all previous attacks. An area 20 kilometres square was virtually obliterated.

Many regard the bombing of Dresden as a war crime. Dresden had no great military or industrial importance. Others point out that the German bombing raids on British cities such as London, Bristol and Coventry were similarly shocking. The Luftwaffe also attacked equally beautiful British cities such as Canterbury and Norwich, in the so called Beiderbecke raids, although even the Nazis agreed to leave Oxford and Cambridge alone. If Dresden, along with Hiroshima and Nagasaki were  war crimes , no one was subsequently put on trial. This is because these particular deadly and devastating attacks were carried out by the eventual winners of the war. Only the losers are ever tried, as at the Nuremberg war crime trials. So “Bomber” Arthur Harris, the leader of RAF Bomber Command, never got to stand in the dock alongside Hermet Goering, leader of the Luftwaffe, at the Nuremberg war crimes trials, even though both of them pursued similar policies and both were responsible for mass destruction and tens of thousands of  deaths. The idea behind both side’s bombing campaigns was to break the morale and fighting spirit of the enemy’s civilian population . According to a recent BBC ducumentary, the British did psychological studies of victims of bombing raids in Kingston upon Hull. The findings were that the bombing raids had actually strengthened not weakened  civilian resolve. However, these unwelcome results were kept secret because they would have taken away the main justification for Churchill and Harris’s bombing campaign against German cities and their non-military populations. Some argue that the bombing raids on German cities such as Hamburg, Berlin and Dresden were justified as acts of retaliation and revenge following the  Blitz on London and other British cities. However, as my grandmother used to argue: “Two wrongs don’t make a right.” All we can say in the end, is that the net result was that both populations suffered massively. A minute ago, I was talking about “winners” and “losers”. But, in a war there are no real winners. Everyone suffers.

My friend, Ian, and I visited Dresden as part of our Germany project. We have agreed to visit different parts of Germany, every year, for the forseeable future. I suppose you could call it our personal reconciliation mission. We are doing our small part to bring the 2 countries a little closer together. Two years ago we visited Lubeck, a beautiful Hanseatic city in the north, near Hamburg. It too suffered a terrible bombing raid in 1942. Apparently this was a practice run to see how effective such an attack on a mostly civilian population could be. Ian and I have noticed that many British holiday-makers seem to ignore Germany when it comes to choosing their destinations. Spain is easily the British tourist’s favourite overseas destination, followed, in no particular order by France, Greece, Cyprus, Malta, Portugal, Italy and the United States. Although Germany is a big, important country containing many interesting and attractive places of interest and it is one of our closest neighbours, it does not figure in these top destinations. Many are seduced by the combination of : sand, sea and sun offered by the Meditarranean countries. Germany has excellent beaches but they are all in the cooler north alongside the Baltic and North Seas. It gets plenty of sun, but its warmest climate is in the south, far away from the coast. So it cannot offer that magical combination all in one place.

I wonder too, if there is still a strong residue of anti-German prejudice left over from the World Wars of last century? The last one finished over 60 years ago and 3 new generations have been born since. However, a lot of national events and commemorations to do with the World Wars are still held in the United Kingdom. Someone commented that these days, the only time that the British are truly united is when they are reliving their victories in the two World Wars. It is important to remember those who sacrificed their lives for their country, but is it healthy to constantly stir up bad memories and ill feeling towards one of closest allies and nearest neighbours? When one of the home nations plays Germany at football, the tabloid press often refer to the German players in derogatory terms, such as the “krauts” or the “huns.” A constant stream of 2nd World War films and TV programmes similarly revive old animosities. Just last year, “Dunkirk” and “Churchill. Darkest Hour” were two of Britain’s biggest box office successes. The so-called History Channel is dominated by documentaries about the war, Hitler and the Nazis. A friend of mine was recently persuaded to go on a city break to Berlin. Afterwards he expressed surprise that the people he met were so friendly and helpful. I asked him why wouldn’t they be and he answered “Well, they’re Germans aren’t they?” Did he really expect to see goose-stepping Nazis on the streets of the German capital? I have always found the German people to be friendly and obliging and  many of them speak perfect English. It’s a mystery to me why more British tourists don’t visit.

It’s a great pity if Dresden and Germany are still being defined by the war. Both have rich and rewarding histories before that tragic conflict and both have undergone remarkable transformations since it finished. Dresden’s old centre is no longer a heap of rubble. It’s major baroque buildings have all been meticilously reconstructed such that, once again, one could be walking around in the 18th century. Out of the ashes, the spectacular palaces, churches and civic buildings of Augustus the Strong and his son have been miraculously reserrected. The “before and after” photos have to be seen to be believed. Today, the Alstadt looks much as it was in the days when Canaletto was painting it. At first the East German Communist regime deliberately left the most important buildings such as the Frauenkirche, in ruins to serve as war memorials. For many years the Frauenkirche was the focus of an annual pilgrimage on February 13th. The ruins also acted as a powerful propaganda tool against the western powers. However, since the fall of the Iron Curtain and the reunification of the two Germanys in the early 1990s, reconstruction has gone on at a pace.  Much work is still going on as we saw on our visit. It took great “skill” to take a selection of photos that all omitted the cranes, the dumper trucks and the scores of hard-hatted workmen. A large section of picturesque Theaterplatz for instance is still cordoned off as the reconstruction crews do their stuff, oblivious to the camera-toting tourists circling all around them.

The Frauenkirche, a “Baroque gem”, has now reappeared in the cityscape after an absence of half a century.  The original dome initially survived the raid, but then collapsed 2 days later. The reborn church was consecrated in the autumn of 2015 and represents the crowning achievement of the reconstruction efforts. People from all over the world, including the UK and the USA, made donations towards its rebuilding. These included contributions from Coventry, Dresden’s partner city. Alan Smith, the son of one of the bomber pilots, created the tower cross that sits on top of the dome. His work was funded by the British Dresden Trust. 80% of the new altar consists of 2000 original pieces rescued from the rubble. On the altar table stands a cross of nails which is a symbol of reconciliation. The church is beautiful and flooded with light. A central nave is surrounded by 5 symmetrical galleries. The magnificent dome and galleries are decorated with murals in light, pastel colours. The only problem today seems to be too many tourists, ruining any hope of a spiritual atmosphere.

Peace and reconciliation are prominant themes in Dresden. We saw another cross of nails donated by the churches of Coventry, in the impressive Hofkirche, Dresden’s Catholic Cathedral. The mistakes and tragedies of the past are properly recalled in memorials but the emphasis seems to be to move forward into a more peaceful and harmonious future. I saw very little stress on the terrible bombing raid, although this could well have been covered in the city museum which I didn’t have time to see. I felt no animosity when people found out I was British. To me, it all seemed very positive. Germany of course is a leading light in the European Union which it created with France after the war by enmeshing their two economies. The idea was to make large scale European war impossible in the future because the 2 countries and their neighbours would become inter-dependent. So far the plan has succeeded.

So, like a phoenix, Dresden had risen again out of the ashes. It stands alongside the similarly restored Polish cities of Warsaw and Gdansk, as one of the miracles of the post-1945 age. It is really 3 cities in one — there is the modern city, the Communist era GDR city and the 18th century baroque city of its golden age. Dresden began as an Slav fishing village in the shadow of its near neighbour, Meissen. Then, in 1485, the Saxon Royal family, the House of Wettin, turned it into its capital. Its glory period was in the early 18th century under Elector Augustus the Strong, who was also King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania. Although not a very astute political leader, Augustus loved art and culture. He encouraged top artists, architects, craftsmen, writers and musicians to make Dresden their base. The result was a flourishing cultural scene and the creation of some magnificent buildings such as Residenzschloss ( Royal Palace), several outstanding churches and the Zwinger, a Royal pleasure palace. The Zwinger is one of the most ravishing baroque buildings in the whole of Germany. We were god-smacked when we walked into it through one of its elaborate gateways. Luckily it was a lovely sunny day, so we saw it at its best. A huge, fountain studded courtyard is framed by fancy buildings and walkways festooned with baroque scultures. On the ground, well-manicured lawns are cut into symmetrical patterns, mirroring each other. Two ornate, exhuberant pavilions face each other at opposite ends of the courtyard . One, the Glockenspiel Pavilion, has a carillon of 40 bells, crafted out of Meissen porcelain. Along one upper gallery there is a giant carving of the Crown of Poland, supported by Polish eagles. The whole complex is stupendous. One of its palaces is used to house a rich, art gallery full of old masters, one of the dozen best in the world. The Opera House opposite ( the Semperor) is equally stunning. We attended an orchestral concert there given by the Saxon Staatskapelle, one of the world’s oldest and most famous orchestras established in 1548.

This is the Dresden that most people come to see. It’s the beautiful baroque city that has miraculously risen from the ashes of its wartime destruction. For a time it was a World Heritage Site but UNESCO have now had to take that coveted title away because of the construction of an unattractive road bridge across the Elbe which is completely out of keeping with its architectural surroundings. Ian and I enjoyed our time there and need to go back to visit the galleries and museums we didn’t have time to explore. It’s always good to end a visit wanting to return. Thankfully, we found out that Dresden is much, much more than the site of a war atrocity. It has risen from the ashes.