In Memoriam: George Butterworth

[Dej 17]

There were, within the greater tragedy of the enormous loss of life in WW1, great losses to the Arts as well.

 

George Butterworth was one such, a friend of Vaughan Williams and contemporary of Gustav Holst, too little of Butterworth's 'quintessentially English' music remains. Shot by a sniper, his body was hastily buried in the side of the trench by his devoted men. Lost in the subsequent shelling, his body was never recovered.

 

Here is probably his best known (and my favourite) piece

[Olham 164]

Dej, I must admit, that I didn't know him, but I like this piece. It sounds like childhood memories

of the great adventures we only have with such depth, when we are young and not yet distracted

by human life's duties.

Death as the master of all wars does reach his aims best when killing the artists - creating more

darkness on earth.

Butterworth has no grave, but he has left something greater to remember him - his music.

I'll search for more.

[Von Paulus 8]

Even if in a certain way the lost generation is a myth, nonetheless, too many people died at both sides.

 

So many lost artists, politicians, scientists...... I wonder how the world would be with them alive.

 

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.