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Tag Archives: Marcus van der Meulen

  • Memorials of the Western Front by Marcus van der Meulen

    Le Touret Military Cemetery and Memorial, on the D171 between Béthune and Armentières. (Author's collection)

    Places of Remembrance

    This year marks the centenary of the Armistice, which ended the First World War. In the past four years commemorations of all sorts have taken place. The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge attended the observation of the Battle of the Somme centennial at the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing of the Somme, France, in 2016. And many smaller tributes have taken place across the Western Front. Modest crosses of remembrance have been placed in cemeteries and chapels by relatives coming on a pilgrimage considering those who suffered the horrors of the Great War 1914-1918.

    These commemorations have been an opportunity to revive the awareness, not only to recall the tragedies, but also to maintain the memorials, monuments and cemeteries raised in honour of those who lost their lives. One of these memorials that is currently undergoing renovation work is the Le Touret Memorial, designed by J.R. Truelove, a fine building in the British classical tradition. The entrance gives way to a peristyle and portico’s, providing a dramatic view of over the many tombstones. There are 13,400 British soldiers, their names engraved on the white walls commemorated here, who fell during the early months of the Great War. Driving back home from a short break in Northern France, we passed the site only a few weeks ago.

    Le Touret Military Cemetery and Memorial, on the D171 between Béthune and Armentières. (Author's collection)

    I first visited memorials in the region on a family holiday in the 1980s. My parents took my brother and me abroad, crossing the channel by ferry like so many Britons do every year. First stop in France was Arras. This ancient capital of Artois is a lovely historic town with a beautiful square where I as a young boy took one of my first photographs (my brother insisted I would take a picture of him holding something he found lying on the cobblestones). In the background of the image was the top of the Belfry. Like so many buildings it was completely destroyed during the war. My parents preferred to avoid the motorways, moving from town to village taking country roads and encountering that sense of being in a different country. Northern France is different from the North of England, from the Greater Manchester area, and one thing that struck me back then were the Crosses of Remembrance and the Memorials that seemed to be hiding behind every hill and between trees in every field. Cemeteries in the most odd locations, and beautiful classical buildings that inspired a young boy back home to draw architecture.

    Le Touret Military Cemetery and Memorial, on the D171 between Béthune and Armentières. (Author's collection)

    The decision made by the British government at the time to build cemeteries and memorials on site, in France and Flanders, and not to repatriate the bodies and remains to the UK, has had far on going implications. Relatives had to cross the channel to visit the graves of their beloved sons, cousins, brothers. The bodies of many thousands and thousands were never found, their names are engraved on the walls of structures that were erected as memorials. People from all over the world, from the UK and Ireland, from Canada, Australia and New Zealand, come here on a pilgrimage, honouring those who suffered and died during the First World War. Some of them leave letters or a tiny cross with a poppy, as personal tokens. The decision to build the memorials here, in France and Flanders, to erect the crosses of remembrance on the place where the officers and men gave their lives, often after a horrible time in the trenches, has forever changed the landscape into a field of remembrance.

    At Le Touret Memorial we stopped the car and went out. There is a strange attraction coming from these memorials and cemeteries. Looking not only as an architect at these beautiful buildings, monuments and sites, but at what they represent. The past years have seen renewed interest in memorials and cemeteries of the Western Front, and many have been renovated. French statues were restored, some repainted, by the local municipalities. The CWGC has done an incredible job renovating and upkeeping of all those Commonwealth memorials and cemeteries. Some of the work still going on, as at Le Touret. the maintenance, of course, of these memorials and cemeteries is not over after we commemorate the centenary of the end of the First World War on 11 November this year. As we walked along the walls of the memorial, my eyes were strangely attracted by all these names written on it and started looking for that accustomed name. Surely there are others like me. And when that familiar name is found, that person suddenly becomes your A. Butler, your own relative. The memorial becomes what is represents, a shared heritage of a common past. Lest we forget.

    Marcus van der Meulen's new book Memorials of the Western Front: Places of Remembrance is available for purchase now.

  • The Brass Eagle Lecterns of England by Marcus van der Meulen

    An early Tudor lectern, typical for the period. (The Brass Eagle Lecterns of England, Amberley Publishing)

    When I started researching the brass eagle lecterns of England, to my surprise there was no book about this fixture that is so omnipresent in the Anglican High church. There are books and publications about memorials, monumental brasses, organs and of course many about the English cathedrals. But about the lecterns that adorn so many these cathedrals, or college chapels in Oxford and Cambridge, there was nothing.

    Churches have been a passion for as long as I can remember. Growing up in the UK, my parents would take me to cathedrals and village churches. But it didn’t take long before the roles were reversed and I planned the trips and excursions.  A young lad using his parents as personal chauffeurs, to explore the churches of the Peak district and the Yorkshire moors. During summer holidays, my Batsford Books were my companion as I traveled the country ticking off the English Cathedrals.

    The early sixteenth-century eagle lactern once in Pugin's Cathedral of St Chad, Birmingham. (The Brass Eagle Lecterns of England, Amberley Publishing)

    A few years ago I was asked by Julian Litten FSA to give a talk at a symposium about brass. The passion for churches I had as a kid has matured and I have grown to become an expert of the ecclesiastical interior. Professionally I study the adaptation of underused or disused churches for reactivation, to put it simply: adaptive reuse. A special concern is how the interiors of these buildings can be saved when no longer in use as a house of worship. In the spare time I have been researching the pre-Reformation church interior, or perhaps more correctly the pre-counterreformation church interior in modern day Belgium. So I was asked to give a talk about the brass eagle lecterns in medieval Belgium.

    When giving a talk, it is most interesting to connect your topic to the location where you give the presentation, in this case King’s Lynn. As it happens, there are two brass eagle lecterns of the pre-Reformation period in this medieval port. Reading about these lecterns revealed some interesting facts and stimulated me to do some more research. There are the articles by Charles C. Oman, a remarkable man, but re-reading his first article – Medieval Brass Lecterns in England, Archaeological Journal, 1930 - I soon realized recent research had progressed on several points. First, there is the material, brass. The industrial revolution had changed the production of objects such as the lectern on a scale hardly imaginable today. Not only an industrial production in masses, also in ways producing the material itself. The production of brass had changed only marginally from the twelfth-century onwards, until the process of production was completely transformed in the early nineteenth-century. So I thought about looking at all pre-industrial brass eagle lecterns in England, as Oman had done before, and work from there.

    In Christian iconography a bird picking its breast is called a pelican and is a symbol for Christ's sacrifice. (The Brass Eagle Lecterns of England, Amberley Publishing)

    I started drawing a map, cataloging the locations, and drafting a chronological list. That helped revealing some interesting understandings of the lectern. First, the clear division between pre- and post-Reformation. Only a dozen were made after the English Reformation, mostly in the years before and after the Commonwealth, and predominantly for college chapels and cathedrals. Both at Canterbury and Lincoln, the lectern was quite literally a restoration; the replacement for the brass eagle lectern destroyed during the Civil War. These lecterns were all made in England, either in London or in the English capital of brass, Bristol.

    For the pre-Reformation lecterns, the list revealed a very different stance. These were mostly, but not exclusively, located in the eastern counties, in parish churches in towns and even villages. Often these lecterns were engraved, in Latin, revealing the names of benefactors. Especially the large number of early modern lecterns, those made between 1470 and 1540, were remarkable. Hardly surprising Charles Oman had devoted an article to this group of lecterns, which he argues were made in England. His arguments, however, can no longer be supported. Combining insights I developed a thesis about the origin of these brass eagle lecterns, possibly over-identifying with these beautiful objects.

    The Brass Eagle Lecterns of England is the result of these researches. With this book I hope to interest people for their religious heritage, the stories behind fixtures and fittings that can reveal so much of the history of our community.

    Marcus van der Meulen's new book The Brass Eagle Lecterns of England is available for purchase now.

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