WWI and the Ruins of Medieval Churches

I've heard of the German "Baedeker Bombings" of World War II, in which the Luftwaffe selected non-military, cultural sites in England for bombing based on a popular guidebook. This blog describes the bombings:

The next day Baron von Sturm (a spokesman for the German Foreign Office) said “’We shall go out and bomb every building in Britain marked with three stars in the Baedeker Guide.” von Strum’s comments led to the raids being called the ‘Baedeker Raids’ by both the Germans and the Allies. Although Goebbels agreed with the tactic he was furious with von Strum for his thoughtless, off-the-cuff comment. Goebbels had wanted to take the moral high ground, describing the British attacks as ‘terror bombing’, but now von Strum had effectively admitted that the Germans were deliberately targeting cultural and historical sites. Exeter was bombed again within hours of von Strum’s statement. A third raid on Exeter took place on 3rd May when high explosives, incendiaries and parachute mines were dropped by 90 planes, devastating the city’s shopping centre. 163 people were killed and 131 seriously injured in the attacks on the town which was poorly prepared for such raids, as were the other locations chosen from the guidebook. . . .

Exeter was not the only city to be targeted. 400 people were killed in raids on Bath on two consecutive nights (25th + 26th April), during the raid the railway station was put out of action and communications severely affected. After the raids on Bath Goebbels reported that Hitler intended to “repeat these raids night after night until the English are sick and tired of terror attacks” and that he “shared [Goebbels’] opinion absolutely that cultural centres, health resorts and civilian centres must be attacked… there is no other way of bringing the English to their senses. They belong to a class of human beings with whom you can only talk after you have first knocked out their teeth.”

But according to this article from History Today, there was bombing during the First World War--the war to end all wars--that also focused on cultural, indeed religious, sites in an effort to drive down civilian morale:

Throughout the four years marking the centenary of the First World War, we have seen a succession of sombre events marking its many major and minor tragedies. Among the most poignant datelines are those recalling a litany of medieval landmarks that fell along the frontline almost from the opening hours of the war: at first, simply shattered by the German army's rapid advance and then steadily eroded by mutually destructive attrition. Treasured symbols of its commercial and cultural power in the later Middle Ages, Belgium's heritage churches bore the full ferocity of the first salvoes. Liège's late Gothic cathedral of St Paul came under enemy bombardment on the second, sweltering day of the war and, following the fall of the medieval walled city of Namur on 23 August 1914, the German Third Army took Dinant on the same day. There they toppled the distinctive Reformation-era pyriform dome of its collegiate church, an act of destruction that was eclipsed by the massacre of 600 townspeople. No doubt in the next four years most of the major milestones in the conflict will be marked, but, perhaps increasingly, we will also remember and reflect on those experiences – mechanisation, civilian bombardment – which, after the passage of a century, we can see more clearly represent moments of great cultural transformation.

Notre Dame of Reims, the cathedral of coronation for France's kings, was a particular target of German bombs:

A presage of what was to follow in the four years of war was offered at Reims, scarcely six weeks after the conflict began. On Saturday 19 September a shower of German incendiaries set the 13th-century cathedral ablaze. In the stillness of a misty autumn twilight, bystanders paused aghast at the edge of the Place du Parvis as fire seized the roof timbers and the scaffold, which, by a fateful irony, still surrounded the northern tower of the west front after a stint of restoration work. The fire reached such intensity in the hours that followed that it softened the mortared joints of the statues covering the facade. Suddenly, the sculpted head of the Smiling Angel – le sourire de Reims – broke from its shoulders and fell. . . . 

World War I bombings finished what Protestant iconoclasm had started:

Such widespread destruction of medieval heritage was unprecedented in the modern era. As the French press ruefully observed, even their Revolution – powered by a radical secularism – had not seen the razing of so many ancient sites. Not since the 16th-century Wars of Religion had churches in a whole chain of regional capitals suffered in such a way. It also represented a new departure in modern warfare because, as the conflict intensified, these medieval landmarks were made the deliberate target of offensive action. In this respect, the attack on Reims represented a turning point. The early damage wrought by the invasion force had been largely collateral. At Reims, however, the Germans fired on the cathedral. Earlier, on first entering the city, they had established a temporary encampment in the Place du Parvis but, as the allied counterattack began, they had withdrawn to a strategic position to the north to concentrate their fire on the centre of the city.

Thereafter, the great cathedrals and other medieval landmarks were targeted right along the Front. . . .

The article goes on to demonstrate that there was a spiritual reaction to this modern iconoclastic warfare on the Continent and in England:

The attention given to the great cathedrals and abbey churches also engendered a level of spirituality, which some had considered lacking in the early stages of the war. Public worship and private devotion in these spaces surged, even among the rubble. Church leaders, roused into guiding the public response, used the fragility of their most ancient places of worship to reinvigorate intercession. Cardinal Louis-Henri-Joseph Luçon, Archbishop of Reims, performed the Stations of the Cross daily, picking his way around the fallen vault of the nave. In England parallel efforts were carried forward by Canterbury, York and the senior bishops, in which the historic resonance of their great churches was self-consciously harnessed to the imperatives of the Home Front. National Days of Intercession, first tried during the Boer War, called the public into these ancient places of worship; at Salisbury and Exeter Cathedrals and Westminster Abbey local people were reminded of the bishops' wish that everyone pause and enter their churches for prayer at noon each day. At a time when troops from across the Empire were passing through many cities and towns, it would appear the antiquity of these places spoke to those with little first-hand knowledge of the Old Country they served.

James G. Clark, Professor of History at the University of Exeter, demonstrates how this spiritual revival continued after the First World War ended, as Church of England bishops encouraged travelers on the Great Western Railway to make pilgrimage visits to great medieval (formerly Catholic) cathedrals and churches in the Midlands and Wales:

England's largest railway company, Great Western (GWR), embarked on its own promotion in 1924: recruiting academic medievalists – Montague Rhodes (MR) James, provost of Eton and King's College, Cambridge, and Sir Charles Oman, Oxford's Chichele Professor, and launching a trio of guidebooks to the cathedrals, abbeys and castles of the region served by GWR. Announced by a poster campaign to rival the Art Deco imagery of the French railway companies, the guides called on their customers to practice a new kind of touring, sober and reflective, 'not to be unloaded for ten minutes from a charabanc', as the guide admonished, but to pause amid 'these precious monuments of English piety'.

Please read the rest there.

At the University of Exeter website, Professor Clark comments upon his research and writing:

My historical interests are focused on the period between the Black Death and the Break with Rome. While a medievalist by training, I explore themes in religion, intellectual and cultural life which reach across the traditional boundaries of medieval and early modern; likewise, my approach is informed not only by the sources and methods of the historian but also by those of researchers in literary, artistic and material culture.

I'd say this article is a good example of his reaching "across the traditional boundaries of medieval and early modern" history!

WWII and Newman's Centennial

My dear husband bought me this book which had been removed from the Library of the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC and it just arrived this past Wednesday. I'm enjoying the essays, listed in the table of contents below:

Introduction by J.K. Ryan
"Most consoling intelligence from England ..." by E. D. Benard.
Cardinal Newman and America, by Edward Hawks.
Newman letters in the Baltimore Cathedral archives, by J. T. Ellis.
The psychology of a conversion, by D. J. Saunders.
The tone of the centre, by J. J. Reilly.
Maker and thinker, by J. K. Ryan.
"The salvation of the hearer ..." by E. M. Burke.
For the modern reader, by D. M. O'Connell.
Newman and modern educational thought, by J. F. Leddy.
Newman and the liberal arts, by J. E. Wise.
University, actuality or idea? By C. F. Donovan.
Newman and papal infallibility, by J. C. Fenton.
The beauty ever ancient, ever new, by W. P. Burke.
Newman centennial literature: a bibliography (p. [209]-227)
Biographical notes on contributors.

I'm also enjoying the historical time-travel it takes to read this book. It was published by the Catholic University of America Press in 1947, collecting essays published in America, The American Ecclesiastical Review, Thought, and The Catholic Historical Review during 1945. The centennial being celebrated was the 100th anniversary of Newman's conversion on October 9, 1845. 

In the introduction by Father John K. Ryan, the context of the times impressed me. England and Europe of course were at war in 1945; therefore, Newman's centennial could not and did not receive the attention it deserved there. It's hard to organize a scholarly conference when you're dealing with German air raids, rationing, military deployment, and the like.  

Father Ryan makes the alarming statement in his introduction that for all his greatness, Newman certainly can't be considered a candidate for sainthood. Perhaps Father Ryan was influenced by the Henri Bremond's The Mystery of Newman? He certainly forgot about Newman's reputation for holiness at the time of his death: Catholic, Anglican, and Protestants in England hailed him as a saint. Bishop Philip Boyce of Raphoe wrote about the changing view of Newman's holiness in an essay titled "Tokens of Holiness in Blessed John Henry Newman":

It is surprising then, that the idea of holiness in Newman’s life began to fade in public perception for over fifty years after his death. This was partly explained by some publications that propagated less than favourable interpretations of his character and his works. His brother Francis who had abandoned the Christian faith published a book about John Henry a year after his death. It was a reaction to the outburst of praise his deceased brother had received and it portrayed him in a very hostile manner, as being duped by organised religion and arrogant in his personal life. In the following year, 1892, another publication by Edwin Abbott, an Anglican, was also critical of Newman. He censured him for sacrificing his reason to the demands of an unfounded and irrational faith. 

Henri Bremond, the French philosopher, published in 1906 a study on Newman that gave rise to the widespread notion that he was a lonely and melancholy man, even a recluse. It was translated into English the following year. Bremond’s study influenced even the widely known and informative Life in two volumes by Wilfrid Ward. Here again, at least in certain chapters the idea of a sad, sensitive and solitary Newman is given to the reader. 

Although there were others who questioned Newman’s sanctity on various points, things began to change in the late 1950’s and early 1960’s.

So Ryan has been proven wrong about Newman's holiness but I can understand the limitations of what he knew in 1945. On the other hand, Father Ryan writes most appreciatively of Newman's great achievement in The Dream of Gerontius in his chapter "Maker and Thinker":

The Dream of Gerontius is unique among Newman's poems and in a way among all poems. It is uniquely ambitious because of all the poems that have been written about death and life after death, none has been quite so daringly explicit as this one in its use of revelation and of metaphysics and in its psychological analysis. . . . In The Dream of Gerontius Newman has been completely successful in his daring and difficult task. . . .

When we received the book on Wednesday, I read one of the essays out loud to my husband, "Most Consoling Intelligence From England . . ." by Father Edmund Darvil Benard. Father Bernad describes the reaction to the news of Newman's conversion among Catholics in the USA in 1845. He notes that 1) There were only 1,071,000 Catholics in the entire country; 2) News from England and the Continent was delayed at least a month, because letters and newspapers traveled by ship--there was no transatlantic cable until 20 years later. As we read the essay we also reminded ourselves that Father Benard could not just search for these reports in Catholic diocesan newspapers on the internet. Perhaps he could view them on microfilm, but he might have been looking at the actual periodicals.

I look forward to reading the rest of the essays, even though--or perhaps--the scholarship is 71 years old and things in Newman studies have certainly changed since then.

Cor ad Cor Loquitor!!

75 Years Ago Today: Coventry Cathedral

The German Luftwaffe bombed Coventry on November 14, 1940, destroying the Anglican Cathedral and the Cathedral is celebrating the 75th anniversary of that night of terror:

BBC Radio 4’s Sunday programme highlighted Coventry’s perspective on the subject of remembrance in a special feature broadcast on the morning of Remembrance Sunday, November 8th. You can listen to it here.

On the evening of Saturday 14th November, the city is planning to create a giant Human Chain of Peace and Light in the city centre finishing at the Cathedral. Each person attending will carry a light along the chain to symbolise communities joining together in a universal message of remembering the past but looking to the future. Join His Royal Highness The Duke of Kent KG GCMG GCVO ADC and listen to LocalVocals as they sing songs from the 40’s. Hear survivor stories and stand shoulder to shoulder with your neighbour and a host of VIPs to remember the Blitz. The event begins in the University Square at 6.30 pm. Bring your torch or mobile phone to light up the square at 7 pm.

The inspiration for the Human Chain comes from Dresden where a similar event takes place annually and attracts thousands of people from across the country.

The Blitz 75th Commemorations programme continues with a concert in the Cathedral at 7.30 pm on Saturday evening with the Saint Michael’s Singers performing Mozart’s Requiem and Solemn Vespers with the Parliament Choir and the English Symphony Orchestra. . . .

On the evening of Sunday 15th November, the Cathedral will be hosting a Civic Service of Commemorationat 7 pm. Everyone is invited to come and join in looking back to the events of 75 years ago in company with representatives from Coventry’s friends across the world – including nations with whom we were at war in 1940.

The destroyed Cathedral, dedicated to St. Michael the Archangel, was of course formerly a Catholic church, built in the 14th and 15th centuries. The first cathedral of Coventry was St. Mary's, a Benedictine Priory. One might note that Henry VIII destroyed St. Mary's in the 16th century (the only cathedral destroyed during the English Reformation) in the course of the Dissolution of the Monasteries--he had offered it to the people of Coventry for purchase, but they could not raise the funds, so he had it razed. The ruins are of course now a tourist site.

St. Mary's was founded in the 11th century and there's an intriguing historical connection:

Leofric, earl of Chester, and Godiva his wife founded the great Benedictine monastery of Coventry in 1043, it being consecrated on 4 October by Archbishop Eadsige. The church was dedicated to the honour of God and His Blessed Mother, and also of St. Peter the Apostle, and of the Holy Virgin St. Osburg and of All Saints. It was endowed by the founder with one-half of the town in which the monastery was situated, and with twenty-four lordships, fifteen of which were in this county, four in Leicestershire, two in Northamptonshire, and one each in Worcestershire, Gloucestershire, and Cheshire. Among the witnesses to this foundation charter were Edward the Confessor, the archbishop of Canterbury, the bishops of Worcester and Lichfield, the abbots of Winchcombe and Pershore, and the earls Godwin, Harold, Siward, and Ordgar. The king confirmed to this abbot and his successors sac and soc and toll and all other liberties.

Yes, that Lady Godiva, who probably never rode a horse naked.

St. Mary's Priory was surrendered to the Crown on January 15, 1539. St. Michael's Cathedral was rebuilt after the Blitz and was consecrated in 1962 with Benjamin Britten's War Requiem premiering. The War Requiem combines traditional parts of the Catholic Missa pro Defunctis with the poems of Wilfred Owen, a World War I poet. Sir Simon Rattle recorded it in 2013 with the Berlin Philharmonic.

Image credit: Winston Churchill visits the ruins of the Cathedral in 1941.

Our Lady's Lutheran Church

Julia M. Klein writes in The Wall Street Journal about the re-building of Dresden's "Church of Our Lady", the famous Lutheran church built on the site of a Catholic Romanesque church which had been built in the 12th century. I am interested in the article because Klein emphasizes that the church embraces history instead of trying to deny it; it was not rebuilt exactly as it was before World War II:

The architecture of contemporary German cities can inspire a trompe-l’oeil confusion of the old and the new. Leveled by Allied bombs during World War II, many picturesque town centers have since been meticulously rebuilt, with only their perfection signaling their inauthenticity. Dresden’s restored Frauenkirche, which on Oct. 30 marks the 10th anniversary of its consecration, has avoided this trap—by embracing rather than erasing history.

The Baroque, octagonal “Church of Our Lady,” where Johann Sebastian Bach once played the organ, has always been central to the city’s image. Designed by George Bähr and completed in 1743, the Lutheran church retained the name of the Gothic Catholic one it replaced. Its outstanding feature—a soaring, pillared dome nicknamed the “Stone Bell”—dominated the city’s skyline and symbolized its artistic splendor.

On Feb. 13, 1945, Dresden was firebombed by the Allies, and two days later the Frauenkirche collapsed. The destruction of Dresden became central to German postwar victimology and was memorialized by Kurt Vonnegut in his 1969 novel, “Slaughterhouse-Five.”

The church was rebuilt ten years ago and has a mission of providing, as the church's website notes, both warning and encouragement:

In the light of the injuries received during the war, largely still visible for all to see, the reconstructed Church of our Lady in Dresden issues a warning, but at the same time also announces the power of a new beginning and of peace. The aspects of remembering, reconciliation and peace create the backdrop and atmosphere for the daily life within the Church of our Lady. As part of the Church of the Cross community, the Church of our Lady feels a strong obligation to tend the special relationship to Coventry Cathedral and its reconciliation, as well as to cooperate with the other Church of the Cross communities both at home and abroad.

Klein provides some details about the "aspects of remembering, reconciliation and peace" built into the new church:

Meticulous as the reconstruction has been—the altar was almost entirely pieced together from shards of the original—there are deliberate reminders that this is not the prewar church. On the altar is a newly forged Cross of Nails, a link to a similar cross at the rebuilt cathedral in Coventry, England, destroyed by German bombers in 1940. The pillars alongside the altar, displaying wartime damage, are missing the angel-head carvings visible elsewhere.

The church’s old pinnacle cross, charred and twisted, sits in the south nave, where visitors may light a memorial candle and inscribe their thoughts. The gilded cross—an exact replica—that now crowns the bell tower was a gift from Britain, fashioned by Alan Smith, the son of one of the bombers of Dresden.

I was disappointed however to see this inaccuracy on the church's website when discussing the name Frauenkirche:

The name "Frauenkirche", which literally translates as "(Our) Lady's church", is by no means unusual: You will find a Frauenkirche or Liebfrauenkirche in around 100 cities throughout Germany, including Meißen, Munich, Nuremberg and Bremen.

They can also be found in other European countries such as Belgium or France, where they are called "Notre Dame", or "Our Lady", and refer to Mary, the mother of Jesus.

The original name of the Dresden Frauenkirche was ‘Unserer Lieben Frauen’, which dates back to the time the church was founded in the Middle Ages. The name was shortened over time to ‘Frauenkirche’ and even retained after the Reformation despite the fact that the Protestant Church knows no adoration of the Virgin Mary.

Thus, a "Frauenkirche" is a church that has been or is consecrated in honour of the Virgin Mary.

It is intriguing that they didn't change the name when they replaced the old Catholic Church, but I think the choice of the word "adoration" is unfortunate. Catholics don't adore the Virgin Mary, and Martin Luther certainly honored the Virgin Mary as the Mother of God and he upheld the doctrine of her Perpetual Virginity, but of course, he rejected any theology of her as a mediatrix of grace. This article provides some careful explanation. 

Image credit: licensed for use under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license in Wikipedia commons.

Movie Review: The Monuments Men (2014)

 

You might have noticed on this blog that I am fascinated by the history of art stolen by the Nazis during World War II from various museums and also the private collectors (often Jewish). The Rape of Europa is the great documentary about Hitler's great plan for a Linz art museum in his name honoring all the great art he desired, the Nazi disgust for certain art they considered degenerate because non-Aryan, efforts to protect and preserve the art in the midst of war, and efforts to return art stolen from individuals to their heirs, etc.

 

So I bought a DVD of The Monuments Men: a mistake. Whatever good intentions George Clooney, director, writer, and producer and his co-writer and co-producer Grant Heslov had, they made a terrible movie, episodic and sentimental, illogical and historically inaccurate.

 

What they did with the character of Claire Simon, based on the real-life Rose Valland, was most disappointing. At first resistant to helping the American museum curator sent to contact her, she then tries to seduce him even as she gives him the detailed notes she made about works stolen from private collections (The Rothschilds, etc). It is the most cynical, cold, calculated attempt of seduction, coming in the context of her mockery of the unfaithfulness of American soldiers to their wives. Matt Damon's character has no trouble rejecting it, although he tries to let her down easy in some trite way.

 

It's too bad that Clooney thought he had to make The Monuments Men into "Ocean's Fourteen"--with buddy movie jokes about mines and tooth decay in the midst of war, death, atrocities, and mayhem. It was horribly disappointing: I'd recommend the documentary and the books about the real "Monument Men" instead. If seeing the movie does lead viewers to those resources, it will have accomplished something good.

Reagan at Normandy, Thirty Years Ago Today

The Wall Street Journal published President Ronald Reagan's speeches at the 40th anniversary of D-Day, June 6, 1944--both "The Boys of Pointe Du Hoc speech and the Omaha Beech Memorial speech. Thirty years ago there were still many survivors yet living to remember that day--today, those numbers are dwindling.

Between great speech writing--with Peggy Noonan as the main writer and contributions from others, including Reagan--great location, and great delivery (notice how Reagan stands at very simple lectern with nothing to hide behind), this is a rhetorical performance that still resonates today. When I say "rhetorical" I don't mean anything negative, as the term usually indicates today. I mean the use of words and phrases, pauses and inflections, that move the audience. Move them to remembrance, to admiration and praise of the Boys of Pointe du Hoc and then of the heroes of Omaha Beach--that's the power of language and of human speech, exerted for the good, the true, and the beautiful.

Here is the heart of the Pointe du Hoc speech, when the President spoke to the survivors about the great sacrifices made that day and the great risks they had taken that day:

Gentlemen, I look at you and I think of the words of Stephen Spender's poem. You are men who in your ``lives fought for life . . . and left the vivid air signed with your honor.''

I think I know what you may be thinking right now -- thinking ``we were just part of a bigger effort; everyone was brave that day.'' Well, everyone was. Do you remember the story of Bill Millin of the 51st Highlanders? Forty years ago today, British troops were pinned down near a bridge, waiting desperately for help. Suddenly, they heard the sound of bagpipes, and some thought they were dreaming. Well, they weren't. They looked up and saw Bill Millin with his bagpipes, leading the reinforcements and ignoring the smack of the bullets into the ground around him.

Lord Lovat was with him -- Lord Lovat of Scotland, who calmly announced when he got to the bridge, ``Sorry I'm a few minutes late,'' as if he'd been delayed by a traffic jam, when in truth he'd just come from the bloody fighting on Sword Beach, which he and his men had just taken.

There was the impossible valor of the Poles who threw themselves between the enemy and the rest of Europe as the invasion took hold, and the unsurpassed courage of the Canadians who had already seen the horrors of war on this coast. They knew what awaited them there, but they would not be deterred. And once they hit Juno Beach, they never looked back.

All of these men were part of a rollcall of honor with names that spoke of a pride as bright as the colors they bore: the Royal Winnipeg Rifles, Poland's 24th Lancers, the Royal Scots Fusiliers, the Screaming Eagles, the Yeomen of England's armored divisions, the forces of Free France, the Coast Guard's ``Matchbox Fleet'' and you, the American Rangers.

Forty summers have passed since the battle that you fought here. You were young the day you took these cliffs; some of you were hardly more than boys, with the deepest joys of life before you. Yet, you risked everything here. Why? Why did you do it? What impelled you to put aside the instinct for self-preservation and risk your lives to take these cliffs? What inspired all the men of the armies that met here? We look at you, and somehow we know the answer. It was faith and belief; it was loyalty and love.

And then at Omaha Beach:

No speech can adequately portray their suffering, their sacrifice, their heroism. President Lincoln once reminded us that through their deeds, the dead of battle have spoken more eloquently for themselves than any of the living ever could. But we can only honor them by rededicating ourselves to the cause for which they gave a last full measure of devotion.

Today we do rededicate ourselves to that cause. And at this place of honor, we're humbled by the realization of how much so many gave to the cause of freedom and to their fellow man.

Some who survived the battle of June 6, 1944, are here today. Others who hoped to return never did.

``Someday, Lis, I'll go back,'' said Private First Class Peter Robert Zanatta, of the 37th Engineer Combat Battalion, and first assault wave to hit Omaha Beach. ``I'll go back, and I'll see it all again. I'll see the beach, the barricades, and the graves.''

Those words of Private Zanatta come to us from his daughter, Lisa Zanatta Henn, in a heart-rending story about the event her father spoke of so often. ``In his words, the Normandy invasion would change his life forever,'' she said. She tells some of his stories of World War II but says of her father, ``the story to end all stories was D-day.''

Lisa Zanatta Henn attended that anniversary for her father, because he had died eight years before.