Coward
At 6 a.m. on 18 October 1916, at Carnoy on the Western Front, Private Harry Farr of the West Yorkshire Regiment was shot dead by a British firing squad. A volunteer with six years service, not a conscript, he had twice been withdrawn from the front line suffering from shell-shock. On the third occasion he had been refused treatment at a medical station, since he had no wounds, and, after resisting the Sergeant escorting him to the trenches, was arrested. He repeatedly said, 'I cannot stand it'. At the court martial, the general commanding XIV Corps said that the charge of cowardice seemed 'clearly proven'. This was confirmed by Commander-in-Chief Douglas Haig.
In due course Farr's widow, Gertrude, received a letter from the War Office: 'Dear Madam, We regret to inform you that your husband has died. He was sentenced for cowardice and was shot at dawn on 16 October'. She received neither a war widow's pension nor an allowance for her daughter. But she did receive a message via her local vicar, from the regimental chaplain: 'Tell his wife that he was no coward. A finer soldier never lived.' She lived to be 99 and to read the papers of the court martial, which were not released by Britain's Public Record Office until 1922.
Private Farr was one of 3,080 British soldiers sentenced to death by court martial in 1914-18, mainly for desertion, and one in 307 who were not reprieved. In rejecting the plea of mercy in a similar case, Douglas Haig minuted: 'How can we ever win if this plea is allowed?'
In the Second World Was, some 100,000 British soldiers deserted, but none were shot. Recaptured deserters from the Red Army or from the Wehrmacht were not so lucky.
A while back I read a fantastic book Europe: A History by Norman Davies. In 1200 pages it concisely covers the history of Europe brilliantly with a whole host of subjects including religion, politics, health, music, art, writing, numerology, spirituality, horticulture and fashion to name but a few. Included within are an array of well over 100 capsules which in themselves make for interesting reading and like the book itself cover a wide variety of subjects.
Today I was looking through some of these capsules again as they are a short read but very interesting. I've transcribed one of them above- a very poignantly sad tale about misunderstanding and trauma. Following is another I find interesting too so thought I would post it. A bit of a diversion from the the normal stuff posted here but I thought it would be nice to have a little break.
This capsule is actually rather big so I have only included part of it. It is about the legend that inspired Sir James George Frazer to set out on a quest of understanding. It sent him travelling all over the world collecting mythology and piecing the threads together which seemed to be constant in varying cultures despite being located far apart. He wrote about his findings in the rather large but hugely interesting The Golden Bough. This is the legend which got him thinking:
Aricia
A dozen miles to the south of Rome, in a crater amidst the Alban hills, lies Lake Nemi, the 'lake of the grove'. In imperial times, the nearby village of Nemi was called Aricia; and throughout the Roman era the woods beside the lake sheltered the sacred Arician Grove, home of Diana nemorensis, 'The Diana of the Grove'.
The Arician cult is known both from the writings of Strabo and from modern archaeology. In many ways, it was unremarkable. It involved the worship of the sacred oak, whose boughs were not to be broken, and a sanctuary of perpetual fire. Apart from Diana, it addressed two minor deities- Egeria, a water nymph, and Virbius, a fugitive from the wrath of Zeus. As shown by the surviving mounds of votive offerings, its main devotees were women who hoped to conceive. On the day of the annual summer festival the grove was lit up by a myriad of torches, and women all over Italy burned fires in gratitude.
In one respect, however, the cult was exceptional. The Chief Priest of Aricia, who bore the title of Rex Nemoerensis or 'King of the Grove', was obliged to win his position by slaying his predecessor. At one and the same time he was priest, murderer, and prospective murder victim. Stalking the grove with drawn sword, even at the dead of night, he awaited the hour when the next contestant would appear, break off a twig of the oak and challenge him to mortal combat.
There are so many other capsules I could have included but have held back so as not to completely bore the pants off everyone. I would though urge anyone who has an interest in reading about European history to have a look at this book. It is amazing how much has been crammed into the book beginning in ancient Greece up to the modern day and not a taxing read either. The variety and depth contained in short a short tome in comparison to other books on the subject is brilliant.
