Friday, 29 November 2024

A gift across generations



                                       William, my grandfather, and " the ring"

My paternal grandfather, William Murch Whelen, was a bigamist. Actually, he was a trigamist in that he had 3 wives simultaneously. None of them knew about each other. 

He deserted Hylda, wife number 1, by never returning home from the trenches of WW1. He left her with a  young son, and after several years of trying to locate him, she  and her son emigrated to Australia. 

He deserted Winifred, wife number 2, months before their child Christopher was born. Christopher never met his father. It is possible, they only married so that Winifred was not labelled as an unmarried mother. This was in 1927. 

He didn't desert wife number 3, Queenie, after he married her in 1928. Queenie  was my grandmother.


                                         Queenie, my grandmother.

Queenie's son, my grandfather's 3rd son, was my father. None of the sons knew of each others existence, despite the younger 2 both living and working in London in the 1950s and 1960s.

Christopher..... the middle son......was a talented musician. He was Assistant Conductor of  the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra,  and later became the Musical Director at the Old Vic. He wrote music for TV, radio and for the cinema.

Christopher, known as Kit, was gay. His lifelong partner was another very talented man, named Dennis Andrews, who himself was a musical and theatre critic. 

Kit and Dennis lived through " interesting times" for a gay couple.They met in 1948 and were together until Kit's death in 1993. Their theatrical , artistic and musical life may have made things easier, but for much of their life together, they were in a so called illegal relationship. Unfortunately Kit died before civil partnerships or gay marriage was a possibility.

My family history research led me to discover my grandfather's past and the story has featured in a much earlier blog posting.  My grandfather died 9 years before my birth, my grandmother , my father, his two half brothers and their " wives" are also all dead. So, no one that my grandfather hurt is left alive. 

I have been able to meet my cousins who share a grandfather with me. One of his other grandchildren lives in Australia, and one in New Zealand. I am now close to both of them, and to their families. We don't understand what our grandfather did, but we are all happy to have been able to piece together the story, and we care about each other. 


This photo shows me sitting next to my cousin Bill, in Wellington, New Zealand. He and I share William as a grandfather.

Kit, however, did not have children. His family was Dennis.  Kit died in 1993, before the deaths of his two half siblings and before I had pieced together the story of my trigamist grandfather. 

However, I was lucky enough to meet Dennis a few years ago, and he generously shared information about my Uncle Kit as well as many photos and cds of Kit's musical compositions. He also  took me out for a wonderful lunch.

Dennis died in September this year, after celebrating his 100th birthday just a few months before hand. He died at home, with friends, as he had wished.

I  have received a wonderful gift from him. Kit's only possession that had belonged to his father, was a fob watch chain, with a dark green stone at one end.  In 1960, when on holiday with Dennis, in Florence, he had the stone made into a ring, by a jeweller on the Ponte Vecchio. 

Dennis left me the ring. When I met Dennis, he told me he would do this, but it was many years ago. I assumed it was just one of those things people said, but was long forgotten. 

His executor found it in an envelope, with a note describing its origin, and exactly where it had been turned into a ring, with an indication that it should be sent to me, William's granddaughter, on his death. He had meticulously updated my addresses on the note, every time I moved home ( a couple of times since I met up with him).


The photo shows Dennis on the left, with my Uncle Kit on another of their trips. This was probably in about 1990.

It's a complicated story, but one I love to think about. William touched many lives and hurt some people along the way. However, his children and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren know about him and how he has connected our family. 

Thanks to Dennis, I have the ring, another valued connection to our shared past.



Thursday, 3 October 2024

Poilu : The Hairy One

An English friend in our village of Caunes told me about a French WW1 soldier who had lived in a neighbouring village. I set out to find out about him. This post is the story of what I discovered.

Poilu is an informal term used for a French soldier, usually from WW1. It means "the hairy one" and over time has become a term of endearment for the French infantry men who spent the 1914-18 war in the trenches in northern France.

Louis Barthas, 1879 - 1952, born in Homps in the Aude, became a barrel maker and lived most of his life in Peyriac Minervois, also in the Aude, until his death in 1952.

 He is buried in Peyriac, which is the next village to my home in the village of Caunes Minervois. He was a "Poilu", 35 years old when war was declared in August 1914. He was married with 2 sons. He was an agricultural worker, later a barrel maker a member of the Socialist party and an active trade unionist



He was a Corporal in the French infantry during the Great War, serving almost the whole duration of the war on the front lines, in the trenches. He survived and was able to return home to family and friends in Peyriac. As a Poilu, he could easily have become just an anonymous survival statistic.....one of the lucky ones. He was much more than that.

Louis Barthas kept incredibly detailed diaries throughout the war. He wasn't supposed to, and his notebooks were hidden and kept secret from the Officers and those in charge. After the war he put his writings together in a series of school-boy notebooks. He transcribed his original notes, which were written on whatever paper he could get hold of. They were mud spattered and gnawed by rats. Letters and cards he sent home from the trenches, postcards, drawings and maps taken from newspapers and magazines were added to his original notes. They amounted to 19 notebooks. He never thought to publish them, and they remained in the back of a drawer for years and were then used by his grandson who was a history teacher, as an interesting source for studying the war with his students. 

 It wasn't until 1978, 26 years after his death, and 60 years after the end of the war, when they were discovered by Professor Remy Cazals of Toulouse University, that they were finally published. Since then, they have been translated into English by Edward M Strauss and published as

                         "Poilu"

( All quotes from the book in this post are from the English translation)

Barthas was a socialist, and his detailed accounts of his experiences at Verdun, the Somme and les Chemins des Dames, show clearly that he hated those in charge of the war. His loathing was for those who made the decisions about holding positions, going over the tops or defending positions against all odds. He hated them  far more than he hated the so called German enemy. He knew that he, along with his French comrades and German enemies were all being used just as cannon fodder 

Following some flooding in 1915, which ended in French and German trench dwellers working together, Barthas wrote in his notes :

"Who knows ? Perhaps some day, in this corner of the Artois, they'll raise a monument to commemorate the spirit of fraternity among men who shared a horror of war and who were obliged to kill each other against their wills " (p.ixiv)



This image is from a contemporary postcard that Barthas included in one of his notebooks, showing the kind of billet infantry regiments were allocated in between their spells in the trenches on the front lines. They were leaking, cold, drafty, wet barns, where men slept on rat and lice  infested straw, after walking miles between trench duties.


In one of the 1917 notebooks he commented :

 "Exasperated and in despair, some men surrendered to the Germans  and some Germans surrendered to the French. "What cowards !" say the patriots in the rear. But if all the soldiers, on both sides had done the same thing, wouldn't that have been sublime ? The generals would have had to fight each other. Poincare could have gone a couple of rounds with the Kaiser. That would have been hilarious '
(p.323 )

In early 1916, after refusing to obey an order which he felt would endanger his comrades, Barthas was stripped of his Corporal's stripes.

" So that was all ! I tore off my stripes and tossed them in the mud. I felt a sense of deliverance from remorse, liberated from chains. By accepting rank, however minor it may be, one took on a bit of authority, of this odious discipline, and one was in some way complicit in all the misdeeds of this loathsome militarism. 

As a simple private, I recovered my independence, my freedom to criticise, to hate, to curse, to condemn this same militarism, the cause of this ignoble worldwide killing spree "
(p.167)

His horror at what he saw is expressed throughout the notebooks. This extract is from his reflections on the defence of Verdun, Cote 34.

"There, human flesh had been shredded, torn to bits. At places , where the earth was soaked with blood, swarms of flies swirled and died. You couldn't really see the corpses, but you knew where they were, hidden in shell holes with a layer of dirt on top of them, from the wafting smell of rotting flesh."
(p.194)

I wish my French was up to reading his original words, but I consider myself lucky and privileged to have read his translated words. I would recommend it to anyone interested in the history of the period and in the power of the words of ordinary men and woman to reflect on the horror and outrage of war.


Many years ago,  I was a history teacher. I taught 15 and 16 year olds about the 1st World War. I was lucky enough to track down a tiny pocket diary of a Leicester infantry man ( someone else who survived the horror) when I worked as an advisory teacher at the Leicestershire Record Office. It became a valuable resource for my teaching. Reading Louis Barthas' words, albeit in translation, has almost made me want to go back to those classroom days. His words are so vivid, his reflections give a real understanding of the horrors, the idiocy and the pointlessness of wars in general, and of that particular series of battles between so called enemies, who had far more in common with each other than with those determining the action.

There is an added element to this story. In our village of Caunes Minervois, a lovely couple, Marie et Francis Boyer bought a house near the abbey, and have developed a beautiful restaurant , salon de the et glacier, ' Le Clos de l'Abbaye". It is a really charming place, serving delicious teas, wines, artisan ice creams and tapas type meals.

They organise delightful musical evenings which are very popular with both   Caunoises and Caunois and us English speaking residents and visitors. I was thrilled to discovered that Marie is actually Louis Barthas' great granddaughter. Louis was  born 3 years after my own grandfather who also fought in those trenches in northern France. Suddenly, Louis's story meant so much more to me. I talked to Marie about Louis. Her pride in him and his amazing contribution to the understanding of the war was clear, he was undoubtedly an incredible man. I have read his words, I have visited his grave and I have hugged his granddaughter. 

Marie gave me a very special bottle of wine, which the Peyriac cave developed to commemorate Louis Barthas in 2022. I'm not sure I will ever drink it. I will certainly treasure it.


Here am I with my bottle of wine.


The label on the bottle, with Louis Barthas' image


Me with Marie


Francis, Marie, me and Mark at Le Clos de l"Abbaye


At the grave of Louis Barthas , barrel maker and Poilu from Peyriac Minervois.


Sunday, 8 September 2024


This is a very quick post, just to indicate to those of us that blog, that I have finally recovered my old blog.....and have been able to change a few of the things that needed changing to update it all. So, I am abandoning my two previous attempts at a new blog, and am happy to try to continue with the old one !


Life has changed, Caunes has changed ( a bit) , but basically all is good and now that I feel I have the look of my page nearly right, I will continue.

Photo here, taken in Caunes, this summer, of Mark, me, 5 year old granddaughter Joy and sleeping 20 month Winnie.

Saturday, 7 September 2024

Testing 123......

 Somehow Ive managed to get into my previous blog ( Janice in Caunes). Not sure how, or if it will work and if it does, whether I can get back into it again .So, not attempting much here.....just testing.