It may seems a jump from a 9th century saintly king and the anniversary of the founding of the great abbey in his name, and a luxury liner come hospital ship sinking off a Greek island during the first world war…yet I am able to see connections to the tragedies which happened on consecutive days.
We’re coming toward the end of the calendar year where I’ve been remembering dates connected with the Titanic and similar ships, to commemorate the publication of my novella/play about her on the 110th anniversary.
Today is the date of the loss of her younger but equally gigantic sister; like the Brontes which I’ve also been reading about (mix my metaphors, why don’t I?) there is a trio of sisters who all suffered and two succumbed to early traumatic demises. For whereas the Olympic had a long sea life, despite an early major incident, Titanic and Britannic suffered martyrdom after a violent event.
And that is where I felt a link with Edmund.
There is also the greatness of the ships and abbey: conceived to make a point to their competitors, longer than any before anywhere, as sumptuous as human hands and great wealth could create. These creations were meant to say to the nation and world: here are new leaders. And both were swept into a multinational chain…I wonder if the creation of a benedictine monastery at Bury St Edmunds was to accomplish what I believe happened at Durham: by knocking a hitherto influential but independent community off their perch, and taking the core shrine for yourself, and creating a wide area as a semi autonomous state. The chain that White Star line’s famous ships were swept into was the International Marine Mercantile Company; they were also subsidised by the British government on the condition that the liners were requistioned by the navy in war.
Two of the Olympic sisters served thus; in was in this guise that Britannic fatally floundered. The loss of life was far less than Titanic (although each life is precious), but the tale of sinking was even more dramatic and sinister. The more innocent version is that she came across a mine field; the other is that she was torpoded by the enemy. Like the shooting of Edith Cavell in the previous year, this heinous act involved medical staff. Whereas Edith was a nurse, the Britannic was working as a hospital ship and bore the Red Cross. This symbol is meant to be understood internationally as ‘leave us alone, we’re offering neutral medical help’ during conflict. And like Edith, this swift execution whipped up great hatred against enemies of the Allied side. Who would be wicked enough to bomb a ship carrying wounded soliders and those tending them?
But there’s been a query over whether, as the other side claimed, Britannic was merely a floating ward, or if it misused the sign of immunity to carry weaponry.
My interest in Britannic was first stirred up via Violet Jessop‘s memoir. Like St Edmund, her story ended in the Bury St Edmunds area of Suffolk. Her retelling of her third sea disaster in four years is a chilling end to her posthumous book…although not as chilling as the film of 2000. I stood at my sink afterwards, unable to move or speak.
The story ended with grisly sacrifice of the betrayer villain, turned hero, or at least redeemed by his final act. This was a self sacrifice, faced bravely…that is: without sign of fear or distress and without resistance or rescue. It is an ending which raise many, secular and military, to the level of sainthood. I believe this man played by Ben Daniels is fictional; if not, the nature of his mission may have meant that his lore remained only in certain circles. It could be said that his punishment was just, and saved it being meted out by others, for he had been discovered and could be identifed by survivors. Thus you could see it as prudent, or acting out a code of honour, or self-creating as a martyr for a cause in a memorable way…I have not yet been able to rewatch that movie. (It involved the item on the cover of my book.)
Thus the Ben Daniels character puts himself among those whose effigies lined Linlithgow’s great hall, whose feast days line church calendars to this day, and those whose death was, to quote from the excellent film The Founain, an act of creation. For St Edmund, it meant a church, a near town within a town, and a county within a county which lasted for centuries. He had more power in death than in life…or people invoked his name for their own power. What a vengeful petty god dead saints make!
In this case, the saint is largely the ship, although certain persons aboard her sister can be canonised, just as others were demonised.
I am suspicious about Britannic…that she sunk in an hour when her sister took four, and having benefitted from adjustments including bulkheads that went the whole way up. Why did the violent explosion occur at the hour of the day when all the watertight compartment’s hatches opened to allow a change of shifts?
My final point…for now, for I may add to this… is the likeness of the pectoral cross which Edmund holds in the 1974 statue at Bury abbey, and the red cross on the side of the Britannic. I do not think that their likeness is accidental…and the significance may be symbolic and perhaps sacrificial….
Elspeth R - A skewed world view 