Tales of War and Conflict - Clifton Town, opera by John Humphreys (Part I of IV)

Poster from 1988, when "Clifton Town" was staged

at the Bristol Old Vic

My partner John Humphreys, a civil engineer by profession but a musical composer by choice, wrote an opera some years ago when he became interested in a particular period of Bristol history – that of the riots of 1831, which involved Clifton, a well-to-do suburb of Bristol.  The carefully researched episode was interwoven with the story of a fictitious family – Bert, Bess, Sarah, little Acorn, the Trooper - the rest were all real people, with the added contribution of probably the greatest civil engineer of his time, Isambard Kingdom Brunel (1806-1859). 

The great man was living in Bristol at the time of the Bristol riots, overseeing the building of the Clifton Suspension Bridge, one of the city’s most famous features. 

In fact, the construction of the bridge was halted as a result of the unrest, and did not recommence for a further five years.  Brunel was made special constable during the violence, and as John will tell, it is perfectly possible that he would have known a character such as Bert, and heard his story.

Isambard Kingdom Brunel

What this tale cannot tell you is how beautiful the music is, how catchy the songs. It was staged in its final form in 1988 at the Bristol Old Vic, and I’ve lost count of the number of times when people have told us how they remembered the tunes and which their favourite was.  The musicians in particular remember it with affection; many have approached John over the years to tell him and have entered the details on their curriculum/ resume.  It is alas an expensive proposition to stage an amateur work without sponsorship, no matter how worthy, and it has not been possible to do so again.  Even the recording made at the time was not of the best quality, or I would upload it here for you to listen to as you read the story.  Another sad fact, my passion for photography had not made its appearance yet, and the photos taken by someone else have long since been lost.

A brief bit of history is necessary for you to follow the rest, please bear with me:

The Great Reform Bill of 1831 met with much opposition from MPs (Members of Parliament), the wealthy and the influential, because it was aimed at getting rid of the rotten boroughs and giving Britain’s fast growing towns – such as Bristol – greater representation in the House of Commons. Rotten Boroughs were non-existent towns – they had once existed and for one reason or another had disappeared, and yet they had retained parliamentary representation.  These historical anomalies enabled MPs to have undue influence in political matters, and to enjoy the benefits, including votes to which they should not have been entitled.  They acquired these constituencies simply by purchasing them.  Sir Charles Wetherell who is prominent in this story, was one such MP.

Sir Charles Wetherell MP, Bristol Magistrate and Recorder

“…half mad, eccentric, ingenious…a coarse, vulgar mind, delighting in ribaldry and abuse …” He was rich and a bigot. He was fired from his cabinet post in the Duke of Wellington’s government because he refused to support the de-criminalization of Catholicism. And when the government moved to reform the stifling limitations on suffrage in Britain, he opposed that, too. A colleague noted, “…no one spoke more than Sir Charles Wetherell; often to no good purpose.” Sir Robert Peel watched his performance in the House of Commons and was not impressed. “This Wetherell unbuttoned his braces (suspenders) when he began to speak, and put his hands into the waistband of his breeches…Horace Twiss said he was very mad, and had but one brief lucid interval, which was between his breeches and waistcoat.”

http://www.scribd.com/doc/17572273/Bristol-Riot-1831

Wetherell’s constituency was a non-existent town in Yorkshire, but he was a Bristol magistrate and also Recorder of Bristol, a role which gave him the power of life and death in Bristol courts.  He was naturally against the Reform Bill and was noted as having made more than 60 speeches in the House of Commons against the Bill in 1831 alone.  He was in the habit of claiming to speak on behalf of the people of Bristol, which infuriated the citizens. 

Clifton Town

(The Bristol Riots of 1831)

Cast of Characters:

Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Civil Engineer

Sir Charles Wetherell, Magistrate and Recorder of Bristol

Colonel Thomas Brereton, Principal Recruiting Officer, Bristol

The Bishop of Bristol

Charles Pinney, the Mayor of Bristol

Bert, the common man

Bess, his common-law wife

Sarah, their daughter

Billy, or little Acorn, her son

The Trooper, Sarah’s beau
Seamus Trubble, a rabble-rouser

Part I

Bristol Gaol, Cumberland Rd (contemporary plans)

All that is left today - the gate

At the beginning of the story of Clifton Town, Isambard Kingdom Brunel was visiting Bert in Bristol gaol one evening to hear and record his story.  He soliloquised first...

Brunel:

In Clifton Town: no dashing heroes in our story

No tales of glory

No mighty battles for a victor’s crown;

In Clifton Town, a single page of history laid before you,

Played in life as on the stage

By ordinary people living simple, ordinary lives;

Walking, talking, falling in love in the ordinary way.

Their hearts beat just as your hearts;

Their lives you are living today,

Fostering the same illusion (a common delusion)

That ordinary folk are always peaceful

And like to be peaceful,

As ordinary people quite frequently do!

Fact and fancy here on view: judge then, if you are able

Which the stranger, fact or fable,

It matters little now because such things don’t happen to
Such folk as you,

Yet they were ordinary people living ordinary lives;

They dreamed, as you have daydreamed,
And as you are dreaming.

They wander once again down there in Clifton,

As you may have wandered -

Just ordinary people, no stranger than you –

No stranger than you!

Bert:

What tales you’ll have to tell of Clifton Town!

It seems an age ago that I was free...

I want the world to know

What happened here to me;

Oh say you’ll write it down, this strange, sad tale

Of simple folk you met in Clifton Town...

Brunel:

It will be told, my friend, no doubt, one day;

And people in the end will shake their heads and say

“Must Fortune ever frown

On simple harmless folk, like those who spoke

And laughed with me down there in Clifton Town?”

Many years before Bert had met Bess... 

This pair produced an only child, christened in the name of Sarah.

Fortune on the baby smiled – never was a daughter fairer!

Radiant as a fairy queen, sweet as nectar, brought up nicely;

Fell in love at seventeen, loved too well but none too wisely.

Young lovers in the buds of spring,
The summer’s flowers perceiving,

Too soon, alas, may taste the fruits
That bring the pain of winter’s grieving...

The seed of love no sooner sown
(No golden ring her hand adorning)

Her love set sail next morning.
A ship is lost at sea; while fathers drown

A child is born in
Clifton Town...

Yet Sarah re-built her life...

Time passes; a dozen years or so of wistfully sighing,
Her child of love a lonely mother’s only treasure.
Until one day, the bitter tears of May

September sunshine wipes away, and strange to say,

Cupid’s once again at play in some small measure:

A young dragoon; an autumn afternoon;
A heart no longer quite immune

To warm, romantic pleasure...

So:  here’s the poor man in his cell;
Here’s the Bess for whom he fell;

Here’s the lass who loved too well;
Trooper bold beneath her spell;

Now the Introduction’s done,
Come back just half a year or so,

Just six unhappy months ago,
Back to October...

October...

October eighteen...thirty...one...

-oOo-

We now go back in time to when Bert was free. 

Friday October 28^th 1831. 

Bristol Downs

It was a fine, crisp, autumn morning, and on the Downs Bert’s daughter Sarah was suggesting to her trooper that they visit Clifton Town...

Sarah:

In Clifton Town all kinds of people
Gather there and take the air,

Or simply stand and stare.

In Clifton Town, there’s love and laughter everywhere...

Down there in Clifton Town

Rich folks and gentle folks (titles a plenty!)

Treading a measure, taking their leisure;

Dressed in the very latest of fashion...

Uttering a merry message of greeting.

Young folk in love, meeting and wandering...

Old folk a-pondering memories of meeting!

Calm in the morning, bright in the evening,

Daytime is any time down there in Clifton!

Going to the Fair 

Painting by E V Rippingille

Trooper:

Rich folks and vain folks, taking their leisure

View with displeasure troopers and plain folks!

Dressed in the very latest of fashion,
They’ll not be wanting common young soldiers...

Dearly I’d love laughing and wondering...
Building up memories...

Memories of Clifton...

Sarah:

Down there in Clifton Town people are friendly.

They’ll not be spurning honest young soldiers.
Come down and see:

Meet me in Clifton, we’ll gather memories,

Memories of Clifton...

Smart in your uniform, I’ll join you proudly...

Both:

 ...I’ll join you proudly, we’ll go down,

We’ll be the fairest couple in the town

And folk will stare to see us there,

Down there,

In Clifton Town!

-oOo-

NOTICE

1988 Copyright John Humphreys.

Copying any part of John Humphreys' work is

expressly forbidden by copyright laws.

-oOo-

In Part II:  While Sarah  and the Trooper fall in love, discontent in the populace grows and flares out of control.

-oOo-

Photo Finish -

from Lonicera's non-digital album

Pictures of Bristol

View of the Portway into the city,

as seen from the Clifton Suspension Bridge,

winter evening

General view with marina on the left and

Rownham Mead flats/apartments

By the suspension bridge, a slippery slope

much beloved by children and very shiny from

millions of bottoms over the generations...

A shot taken at the Galleries -

I'm not sure what uniform they're wearing

A flower clinging to the steep precipice

around the suspension bridge

Evening in the docks with Totterdown in the background.

In 1831 Totterdown was where Wetherell first became aware

of the hostility towards him of the people of Bristol.

Go straight to Part Two

-oOo-

Tales from Argentina - The Tiny Miracle

Analía Bouter and her husband Fabián Verón have been through an ordeal that few parents have ever experienced, and which continues still.   Of modest means as Fabián is currently unemployed, they live with their four children aged between 12 and 5 in Resistencia, the provincial capital of El Chaco, in northern Argentina, and at the time of this story – last March - she was six months into her fifth pregnancy.

On Friday 30th March she sensed that all was not going well and later in the day her waters broke.  Fabián took her to the Perrando Hospital in Resistencia, where she was told that she was mistaken, and it was merely a case of freak incontinence.  She was sent home and told to keep absolutely quiet so as not to harm the baby.  By Monday she was losing blood and was quite convinced there was something wrong.  She was admitted again for an ultrasound scan, which showed that there was no amniotic fluid around the baby, nor had there been for three days.

Unbeknown to her, the neo-natal staff at the hospital now assumed the baby was dead and did not consult with the mother, who could have told them that she could feel the baby’s heart beating.  Plans for a caesarean were abandoned and they encouraged her to give birth in the normal way, which she did the following night of Tuesday 3rd April.  The premature baby weighed 800 gr (1.7 lbs).  The doctor put mother Analía to sleep immediately after the birth, and when she awoke some hours later, it was to see a nurse before her who asked her what they should do with the baby’s body.  Her husband had already been given her death certificate.

In shock, she learned that the child had been put in a tiny box and the lid nailed down thirty minutes after her birth and taken to the mortuary.  When Analía was well enough to get out of bed some hours later, she and Fabián sought to deal with their grief by insisting that they be allowed to view the body for the first time.  By this stage twelve hours had elapsed since the birth. 

At the mortuary the refrigerated chamber was opened and the box levered open, and as they gazed heartbroken at their little scrap of a daughter time stood still, for she stirred and wailed gently.

Analía screamed “My child is moving!” and fell to her knees.  Fabián froze, and she remembers as if in slow motion that her husband helped her up as the mortuary attendant rushed forward and grabbed the child, disappearing through the door calling urgently for a doctor.  But not before Analía’s eyes had registered that her little daughter’s body had been covered with a sheet, that she had frost on her face and her eyes were open.  “She looked like a little bottle of ice,” she said.  “Why wasn’t I there earlier?  She lives thanks to God’s grace.  She’s His now.”

The experts said that the extreme cold had played a part in preserving the baby’s life and hypothermia may have protected her.  She had lost 50 gr during her ordeal and in no time she was hooked up to every life-supporting device imaginable and questions were being asked of the no less than five health professionals who had been present at the birth, by the top authorities in the hospital.  Clearly they had a case of negligence on their hands and it wouldn’t be long before the press got hold of the story. 

Analía and Fabián Verón abandoned their plans to name her Luciana Abigail, opting for Luz Milagros (the words mean ‘light’ and ‘miracles’, and are both popular names, inspired by Our Lady of Light and Our Lady of Miracles).  They knew they needed a series of miracles to save her now.

The press sensed they were on to a good story, and before long the provincial governor and health minister had met them and promised all the help that was at the local government’s disposal. 

Cristina Kirchner, president of the Argentine Republic, had got to hear of it and in a telephone conversation with Analía told her that she wanted to meet the child as soon as she was out of intensive therapy.  “It goes to show that miracles do happen”, the president told her.

Luz Milagros was in a very delicate condition but stable, and would need to remain in hospital for the foreseeable future.  During her first weeks she suffered convulsions, internal bleeding, pneumonia and a heart attack but overcame them all.  In addition her cardiac condition progressively improved;  her breathing was only being assisted as a precaution.

Over the following weeks she developed a further infection which was brought under control, her weight increased to a kilo (2.2lbs) and Analía was able to breastfeed her.  She watched carefully over her little daughter, arriving at dawn every day from her home on the outskirts of the city, and staying until 10 p.m. every night, as she was not permitted to remain with her the 24 hours. 

“She is so sweet”, she told reporters “she likes being with me and looks at me.  I can’t believe it’s been a month already.  This is truly a miracle.”

Three months have passed since Luz Milagros’ birth.  Now at a large hospital in Buenos Aires, extensive tests have been carried out on the baby and unfortunately the news is not good.  Her heart beats strongly, she has had no more episodes, and is practically at the stage where she can breathe by herself.  But she is showing only 10% brain function, and the experts say the damage could be irreversible. 

They have stopped giving her invasive medication which they say causes her discomfort and will not serve any useful purpose, and the doctors and priests speak of the option of a ‘dignified death’ and not extending her suffering.  Analía will not give up on her daughter however, and does not like the way the discussions are going.  “This cannot be in vain” she says, “there must be a reason why God has brought her this far”.  Her husband Fabián Verón believes it is a fight which must be taken a day at a time.

And in the background the struggles have begun.  The five doctors who attended at the birth have been suspended pending investigations, and funds from the provincial government in Chaco have been made available in the short term.  It has yet to be decided who gets sued, how long will it take and how will they manage in the meantime; who will pay for Luz Milagros’ long-term care and how many will deny any responsibility.

Having been saved from the brink, the little mite now fights for her very right to exist.

Sources:  News websites

-oOo-

Photo Finish- from Lonicera's digital archives

Flora in Ireland - May 2012

-oOo-

Wood Jubilee Vit?

I don’t know about you, but I’m all Jubileed out.  An average time of 7 hours a day over four days in front of the telly watching the Royal Family, the crowds, the bunting, the rain, with drink or snacks in one hand and the other one free to enable me to count how many times I saw the Queen smile – it was all very exhausting.

The general goodwill towards the sovereign was plain to see, my only beef being the way the commentary was tackled by the BBC.  There was no doubting the keenness of the worthy broadcasting corporation’s team to outdo each other with enthusiasm, both in the studio as well as at the many chosen locations where they kept popping up to tell you how EXCITING it all was. 

A pattern was quickly established on the day of the pageant on the Thames, where it was obvious that some of the commentators – the ones who spoke the most - had brushed up on a few superlative adjectives and expressions which they flogged to death, but not on their UK history.

Thus we had Admiral Horatio Nelson’s hat being made specially for the battle of Waterloo instead of Trafalgar; incorrect information on the warship HMS Belfast; the monarch herself given the wrong title; the 79 year old Princess Elizabeth Locomotive referred to as a steam train,  and very ancient boats specially spruced up for the occasion with nary a mention of their history.

At times enthusiasm gave way to excited hysteria and the rich and varied vocabulary for which this marvellous language is known, disappeared in the wind and the rain…

Studio:  “And so this iconic occasion is rendered even more exciting by the presence of so many boats on the water – I couldn’t POSSIBLY count them, there must be well over ten thousand out there.  Such a wonderful atmosphere, and JUST like the Canaletto painting... 

Canaletto's painting and last Sunday on the Thames

(With thanks to facebook.com#!_SocietysChoice)

...I hope you’ll all go to Greenwich to see it, it’s so superb, so iconic, to see all those boats on the water today just as Canaletto painted them in – er, all those years ago.  And we see the flags proudly flying on all the buildings today, all wishing our iconic Queen a happy Diamond Jubilee.  On this historic occasion which is so atmospheric it’s an honour and a privilege to be speaking to all of you today to tell you how excited we are to be seeing this wonderful spectacle.  Now over to you Anneka, how’s it going on Millenium Bridge?

Anneka (with a finger in one ear):  “Yes, here we are on Millenium Bridge – or as I like to call it the “Arts and Crafts Bridge” (toothy grin). “The Royal Barge is some way away yet, but we’re busy here with lots of artists painting their Canalettos of this wonderful iconic day.  Ooh dear it’s beginning to rain – back to you Sophie.”

Studio:  “And now over to Fred who is on a boat near the Houses of Parliament.”   Fred – how’s it out there on the water?”

Fred (from a wobbling boat):  “Well, here we are in the rain, but we’re not going to let it get us down, oh no, this is too iconic a day for that.  There are some boats nearby, er, not sure who they are, oh yes, I see now, they’re sea cadets.  Well done.  Such an atmosphere…” (turns his back to the camera) “ – back to you Sophie.”

Studio:  “I’m afraid the weather is getting rather wet – well out there anyway.  And there we see the Queen looking radiant and smiling (Wot?  Have I missed something?) She’s obviously really enjoying this atmospheric day.  There’s the Royal Standard proudly flying over the Royal Barge, such a historic occasion, 350 years since the last Thames Pageant.  It looks just like the Canaletto painting, doesn’t it?  At least, except for the rain that is.  Back to Anneka on Millenium Bridge.

Anneka: (now covered almost completely in waterproof gear).  “Well we’re all a bit wetter, but there’s a wonderful atmosphere here on this iconic day, and here we are on the Millenium Bridge, or as I like to call it the "Arts and Crafts Bridge”.  (Toothy grin)  Here’s Barry, who’s painted a lovely picture – ooh Barry where’s your picture?”

Barry:  “I’ve had to put it away or it’ll dissolve…But it’s been such an honour and a privilege to be here on this atmospheric day…”

Anneka:  “Absolutely.  How about you Marie?”

Marie:  “Well I’ll show it to you, I’m sure I can rescue the wet bits when I get home…”

Studio taking over:  “So we leave Anneka there, and go over to the Royal Barge with its proudly flying Royal Standard, and where the Royal Family are enjoying some choirs singing from another boat.  Singing in the Rain, presumably?”

All terribly iconic and atmospheric.  Canaletto would have been proud.

-oOo-

Well, that’s my highly disrespectful take on it.  Truth is the organisation and the clockwork precision of the whole four days was astonishing – I think the UK do it better than anyone in the world.

The Queen and Prince Philip (aged 86 and 90 respectively) stood for the 4 hours on the boat, despite beautiful plush seats being provided for them – and the following day the Duke of Edinburgh was admitted to hospital with an infection probably hastened by the conditions on the previous day.  They’re both stoics, no doubt about it, and thoroughly professional.  I’ve even forgiven Her Majesty for wearing a giant teacup on her head.

(from Google Images)

-oOo-

Photo Finish -

from Lonicera's digital archive

May 2012 - a brief visit to Ireland

Statue of Jim Larkin

Book of Kells, Trinity College

Statue of Molly Malone

The Merry Ploughboy Pub, Rockbrook,

specialising in folk evenings with singing and Irish dancing

We watched some wonderful and stirring Irish dancing...

... and a wacky one to finish.

-oOo-

Tales from Elsewhere - The Birthday Present

When Clare and Paul moved into a gracious and leafy neighbourhood in Bristol they felt they had 'arrived', and things got even better when they met their next door neighbours Sue and Dan. Not that they became best buddies straight away or anything, but Clare certainly hit it off with Sue, particularly when they found that they celebrated their birthdays the same day.

As the day drew nearer, Clare confided in Sue how she had been hoping to get a brand new Peugeot 206 for her birthday. She had had one previous car, an old rattletrap which gave up the ghost the year before, since when she had had to rely on public transport and Paul on weekends. They could now afford it, she thought.

Sue was all solicitude and complicity. Over numerous cups of coffee they planned the campaign on how to plant the idea in Paul's head in a subliminal manner so that he would think it was his own idea. So far she had been congratulating herself on the subtlety of her approach. She would consult with Sue on the right technique - what to say, what not to say. Sue obligingly would try out the carefully crafted 'spontaneous conversations' on Dan and come back to tell her how he reacted. This was Sue's idea. A generous friend, she told Clare that she thought nothing of being used as a practice ground.

On the night before her birthday Clare got up in the middle of the night to answer nature's call, and to her speechless delight she saw through the window a beautiful brand new Peugeot 206 parked in the drive, sparkling red in the moontlight. Not to spoil his surprise she said nothing about it and went back to bed, thereafter unable to sleep thinking about the places she would go with her new car.

The following morning she was a little disappointed that he hadn't presented it to her by the time they sat down to breakfast, but recognised his cunning in presenting her with a lovely birthday card and a generous Marks & Spencer voucher. She smiled to herself as she guessed that he was trying to throw her off the scent. Not bad, she thought.

The drive was partly visible through the kitchen window, and she suddenly noticed their next door neighbours Dan and Sue getting into 'her' car and driving away, and her coffee cup came down with a clatter.

"They're taking the car away! Look!" she screamed, scraping back her chair.

.

"Don't worry love, it's alright" her husband replied from behind his newspaper. "I forgot to tell you that Dan was surprising Sue with a new car for her birthday today, and to help cover up the whole thing I told him he could park it here." He lowered his newspaper "I've just remembered you both have birthdays the same day - what a coincidence!"

.

Their friendship was never quite the same after that.

-oOo-

Photo Finish -

from Lonicera's digital and non-dgital archives

This week - a bit of Photoshopping

Next week I am getting an early birthday present from John:  he is paying for me to have a 4-hour tutorial session on my own with a Photoshop Elements tutor.  It's something I've been dying to do for some years now, ever since I bought myself a machine which can scan the thousands of slides I've taken over the last 15 years with my Canon EOS100 SLR camera.  Since going digital I've wanted to experiment a lot more but there's only so much I've been able to teach myself.

I thought I would show you some examples of what I've taught myself on Photoshop - and I hope as from next week I shall be much better at it.

In a church there is too much contrast in lighting - the interior is dark, the stained glass windows are burnt out, so I've tried to redress the balance by bringing out the black ceiling, and particularly rewarding, putting the colours back into the stained glass.

This gorgeous little girl was a bridesmaid at a wedding I went to recently, and I was trying to cut out the busy background full of people drinking and dancing.  I blurred some of it and in the end opted for a smokey blue surround to make her look a bit like a princess in a fairytale.

The cake was set up by the venue organisers, and I wanted to try making an image which didn't contain the two champagne bottles.  So this is the 'before'...

...and this is the 'after'.  I sort of ghosted the candles over to the other side.  No doubt from next week I'll be able to make a much better job of it.

John took this picture in the late fifties when he was living in Penang, Malaysia, and it represents the early stages of the construction of a dam.  I tried to turn it into a more normal looking picture.

The sky was the obvious section to change, and the greenery had to be brought back to green.  The plant in the foreground and the other one to the left of it had to be coloured practically one pixel at a time.  I'm sure experience will teach me there's a much easier way to do it...

Taken by me in the nineties, a series of duck pictures which were very underexposed, and it's only thanks to Photoshop that I've been able to see them at all (I'm amazed and grateful that I was too lazy to throw away all the slides which weren't good enough...)  This one doesn't respond well to enlarging though - too much grain.

These last three are digital, taken with my new camera:

A glass ornament resting on my window sill, and with some experimentation I changed the grey day to blue, and the net curtains in the background into clouds - I need practice at that, because skies are the biggest problem for a photographer in the UK - they're always grey or white, and fluffy clouds don't come to order.

Not changed - I think I chopped off the top when I was taking it because the flowers had died off and didn't look so good.

I'm a sucker for rich reds.  All I've done here is lighten the bottom left corner to bring up the leaves a bit.

-oOo-