 |
| Icarus falling into the Firth of Forth with Muirhead Bone sketching the Grand Fleet. |
Oil on canvas, 91.5cms. x 120.2cms. 2020
Muirhead Bone and the Grand Fleet
Muirhead Bone was born in Glasgow and qualified as an architect before studying at Glasgow school of Art. He was unusual for his day in depicting city and industrial scenes with a powerful graphic style using both etching and lithography.
In 1901 he moved to London where his career flourished and he became a successful artist. In 1916 he was appointed Britain's first official war artist, partly because the realistic intensity of his work reproduced well in the propaganda publications of the day. His ability as a draughtsman enabled him to take on complex industrial subjects such as gun and shell manufacturing, as well as producing hundreds of behind the lines sketches of the Western Front. During March 1917 he spent three weeks sketching the Grand Fleet in the Firth of Forth. He also served as a war artist in the Second World War.
The Grand Fleet was the greatest congregation of major war vessels the World had ever seen. The pre war naval arms race with Germany had been won by the British and the Grand Fleet, even after war losses, was far stronger at the end of the war than at the beginning, with many new vessels coming into service. The fleet was formed in 1914 and at the outbreak of war was immediately able to sail to it's operational base at Scapa Flow, where it would engage with enemy forces entering the North Sea and support the blockade of Germany.
Scapa, however, was without repair facilities and with the completion of Rosyth Dockyard the fleet moved to the Firth of Forth. The coastline and islands were heavily fortified and mine fields and booms deterred attacks by submarines and small craft.
By the summer of 1918 the years of trench warfare on the western front were over and the Allies were inexorably pushing the German army back. The naval blockade had bitten deeply into German society and it was clear to the military leadership that they had no hope of winning the war .The admirals, however, planned one last, probably suicidal adventure into the English Channel. This was too much for the crews, who mutinied and started the revolution that forced the Kaiser to abdicate. The fleet made one last voyage, but not the one that was intended. They were led by a British cruiser into the Firth of Forth and passed between the lines of British and allied vessel then anchored in six lines stretching from Kirkcaldy to Aberlady. After surrendering to Admiral Beatty they steamed to Scapa Flow for internment. There they waited as the Allies wrangled over reparations and how severely to punish Germany. Fearing that the fleet would be parceled out to the Allies, in June 1919 the order was given to scuttle. In an act of defiance the flag of the Imperial German Navy was hoisted to the mast head, the sea cocks opened and the ships sank to the bottom.
There the proud fleet lay until the 1920's when a scrap merchant decided to raise them. This was no easy task but slowly most of the major vessels were brought to the surface. Their upturned hulls were towed to the Firth of Forth, under the Forth Bridge and broken up in the drydocks at Rosyth. A sad, but fitting end to the fleet that was the deranged Kaisers great vanity project.
Icarus
In an ancient time, long before the Roman vessels unloaded their cargoes of red wine, fish sauce and olives for the troops at Cramond lived a great King of Fib. The king had a problem and this is where the story starts to get a bit weird. It should be remembered, however, that the world was very young then and material things had not been fixed and understood as they are today. He had married a young wife but she had turned from him and fallen in love with a beautiful white bull. Such was her passion that she copulated with the beast and begat a son. As can be imagined, this was no ordinary creature, but had the body of a man and the head of a bull, just like his father. If this creature had been a placid herbivore, living on salads, the king might have turned a blind eye, but it had an insatiable lust for human flesh.
The king needed help and he remembered there was a wise man living across the water in the land of Loth. Now Daedalus,(for that was his name) was not only wise but a great maker and inventor. He did not take the old ways for granted but experimented for himself and Nature was his teacher. Having been promised a great reward, he sailed with Icarus, his son and apprentice, to the land of Fib. He listened and wondered at the Kings strange story, then produced a plan.
"We will contain this creature under the ground, where it belongs," he told the King.
"These passages will be so dark and complex that the beast will never find it's way out."
It took years to construct the labyrinth and at the end of every days work they had to follow a thread to find their way out. With the work competed and the beast contained, they waited for their reward. The King, however, either wished to keep such useful workers to himself or was frightened that his dreadful family secret would be spread throughout the world. Daedalus and Icarus were imprisoned in a high tower on the island of Inchkeith.
Of course, Daedalus had no intention of being a prisoner long, but the island had no wood or skins to build a boat. Day after day he would look south from the tower and in fine weather could even see the smudge of smoke from his homestead in the green land of Loth. Every day he watched the seabirds launch themselves from the cliffs, then with a few effortless flaps of their wings, wheel and soar in circles, flying higher and higher in the updraft from the island.
From the honey bee he took the wax comb and from the sea birds collected the feathers. Through the dark days of winter, when the island was battered by storms, they constructed two sets of wings.
"Now listen son," said Daedalus, " If these wings work, don't fly too low in case the feathers grow wet and heavy. And remember, never, never fly too high because the sun will melt the wax."
"Yes Dad, I know. You've told me this a thousand times."
On a fine summer day, with the sea birds soaring above them, they stood trembling on the edge of the tower. It took great courage to jump off but after a few panicky flaps they were caught by the updraft and carried skywards. Round in great circles they soared, climbing higher and higher. When Daedalus looked down and saw the island about the size of his hand he shouted to Icarus,
"Turn south! This is high enough."
But Icarus had another plan. Filled with the exhilaration of youth and the freedom of flying he soared higher and higher.
"Come down!" shouted his father, "Icarus, come down!"
Daedalus watched his son disappear into the arching blue of the heavens then turned south. He had tears in his eyes and felt a terrible foreboding.
Overwhelmed by excitement, Icarus felt no apprehension at all till he felt warm wax trickling down his arms.
"Dam!" he thought, "I'll have to go down," but it was far too late. He started a controlled descent but great chunks of feathers started to break off the wings. He lost control and began tumbling.
Poor Icarus! He plunged faster and faster, head over heels. Not only was he plunging through space but his acceleration was such that he was moving forward through Time. If he managed to open his eyes he would have seen his homestead in Loth was now a great, stone city, shrouded in smoke. Another tumble would have revealed an enormous bridge striding confidently across the shiny estuary and below, swinging lazily on their moorings, the gigantic war vessels of an unknown tribe.
