The Family of Alan Cecil Tarbat
A Narrative Compilation of his Ancestral Families
Including
Isaacson, Durnford, Langley, Brabazon, Long, Devon,
Parr, Tarbat
March 2020
Kristine Herron
.
Background
Alan Cecil Tarbat, was born in 1904 and died in 1978 in Somerset
England.
Alan devoted his life to teaching and writing. He did not marry, and had no
descendants.
He was the grandson of Arthur and Victoria Durnford. He was my 4th cousin, once
removed.
Clearly this cousin was also a keen genealogist, as indicated
within records stored in an archive in
Somerset. Just how people were able to
research and resource genealogical records in the days prior to modern
technology is nothing short of a miracle.
Alan had that talent, as did others in the Durnford family, over many
years.
Alan’s research focused more on his maternal ancestors, and he accumulated
photos, and varying research, of both his parent’s early lives.
Sadly he died of motor neurone disease, after a lifetime teaching.
But thankfully, one of his students decided to write his own tribute to
Alan Cecil Tarbat. That man is Roger
Parsons. For ages his story was
available on the school’s website, until the links were removed.
I
was a pupil of Alan's at Wells Cathedral School in the 1960s and started
researching him for a school celebration of his life and literary work in 2013,
another former pupil presenting a number of his poems, in particular his most
famous, 'Rider of Mendip', and I, a talk on his life, which I attach. I think
you may have already seen and read this talk, since you had put a link to it on
your blog when it was available on the Old Wellensian Association website.
I
found researching Alan and his distinguished family absolutely fascinating and
I am very pleased that you may find some of my findings of use. I am ever grateful to Alan's friends in Wells for looking
after his papers and photos and finding them a safe and accessible home!
Having
seen that the website had been taken down and replaced, with some of the
original items removed, I decided I would offer to send you the talk, for you
to use however you wish, just in case you had not downloaded it.
Roger though, has given me his story, with permission for it to be used,
which it will be, and loaded onto the Ancestors of Montagu John Felton Durnford
blog.
I am honoured that Roger has done this, and grateful for the photos
which he has shared from the collection of Alan Cecil Tarbat at the Somerset
Archives.
In order to complete this type of
narrative, a great many prime resources have been researched.
The Prime
Sources from Wikipedia
Kristine Herron
Queensland, March 2020
Table of Contents
The Life and
Times of Alan Tarbat
A talk by Roger Parsons at
Wells Cathedral School 29th June 2013 as part of the Tarbat Reunion
‘At
last, to a cold and exhausted town, Armistice came. Later came the ‘flu, and
many who had survived the War horrors, were so weakened that they died from
lack of powers of resistance. Then reconstruction arrived - or, I shall prefer
to call it, desecration. We saw the first new road, the first bungalow. Country
lanes and delectable field paths that my sister and I loved were alike grubbed
up to prepare the way of the 'desirable residence’ and herald the horrible
approach of pink asbestos. Gradually the Upmarket we knew passed; and we
ourselves left for Downfield in 1928.’
For
Upmarket, read Fareham in Hampshire. For Downfield, read Calbourne on the Isle
of Wight. Yes, Upmarket – the title alone tells us it is born of another age –
written under his nom de plume, ‘Cecil Dundon’, it is Alan Tarbat’s
recollection of childhood and the many characters that flitted in and out of
his early years. It is a quaint little work, as you might expect, rather fussy,
often long-winded and rambling, written more for his own benefit, perhaps, than
for ours; over-detailed, and over-populated with folk whose names suddenly
appear and disappear without warning or much relevance. Alan does not find it
easy to separate the important from the trivial – all has its place in the rich
pageant that is his mind and memory. But one might also suggest that it
reflects a humanity about the man who insists that everyone has their place
with none overlooked or left out.
In
terms of his style of writing, there are passages that we would immediately
appreciate as Tarbatian – strong opinions and subtle observations on life,
packed with similies and metaphors: ‘ The dog, a nasty, jabbering,
spitefully-inclined toy terrier called ‘Dickie’, seemed to have a life as long
as it was useless’.
His
strong feelings about sport and ‘manliness’ and their place in the world - or
his world: ‘woods will be bluebell-carpeted and bracken will gleam long after
the last goal post has rotted against the naked sky.’
His
priceless choice of words: ‘When little Michael was in the dining room one
morning, he saw on the sideboard some slices of ham that had been cut for his
parents’ breakfast. Suddenly seizing the juiciest, the two words ‘Fat ‘am’ were
heard by his mother just before his mouth was CRAMMED TO INCOHERENCE.’
Enough
literary criticism from me. My task is to reveal something of the life of Alan
Tarbat the man, and the influences on it from his youngest days. For my ability
to share this with you I have several people to thank, first and foremost the
late Councillor Tom Webster, erstwhile Mayor of Wells, and his wife and family,
who became, as we shall see, Alan's family in his later years, to the extent
that they were the executors of his estate and the inheritors of his papers.
Tom’s three sons, Edwin, William and Jeremy, wisely deposited these papers at
the Heritage Centre in Taunton a number of years ago.
Without
them doing this, and without their countless memories of the man, and their
obvious affection for him, this talk would already have come to an end.
Others
have, over the years, committed their recollections of 'Podge' to paper, in
particular former colleague Bill Whittle who records Alan’s links with
distinguished writers of his time such as John Betjeman, Beverley Nichols and
Elizabeth Goudge, romantic and children’s novelist and native of Wells, whose
father taught at The Cathedral School in the early years of the last century.
Another
of Alan’s colleagues, whom I have reason to thank for his memories recently
emailed to me is Peter Yerburgh, still very active in mind and body, and living
in Salisbury. And also just the other day, Kevin Duggan a pupil of the 1970s to
whom Alan showed great kindness. To them and many others, I doff my school cap!
I
should add that there will be no great going into detail of Alan's life as a
schoolmaster at Wells, which is sufficiently documented elsewhere by the school
and in the memories of those who knew him, and knew him better than I - who was
a day boy to start with. I’m not sure he ever even said to me ‘Oh, Parsons, do
stop havering!’
So
it is Alan's life prior to Wells and what Alan became involved in and was
influenced by outside it that I shall be focussing on; and of course his early
life and family background.
It
is significant that the quantity of papers and photos kept by Alan on his
mother’s side of the family far outweigh that on his father’s, simply because
his maternal ancestors were considerably more distinguished than his paternal
ones.
Here
is Alan’s father’s side as far back as I can easily go, relatively humble in
origin, with little accessible information on them.
Alexander
Tarbat (1822-1900) m 1860 Elizabeth Hipkins (1825-1891)
________________________I________________________________________________
I
I
James
Edward Tarbat (1864-1937) Jessie Hannah Tarbat (1865-1925)
m
1903 Ethel Mary Victoria Durnford (1867-1941)
______________________I___________________________
I
I
Alan
Cecil Tarbat (1904-78) Evelyn Mary Tarbat (1906-45) m Alfred Cecil Parr
(1904-43)
Alan’s
mother’s side of the family (see final page of document for family tree) can be
relatively easily traced back to the 17th century and infinitely more elevated,
with individuals whose lives are often very well documented, for better or for
worse - mostly for the better, I hasten to add!
There
are four important components of his maternal side – the Beckfords, the Longs,
the Devons and the Durnfords. The earliest, the Beckfords, were a family who,
over the course of 100 years, amassed great wealth and influence through their
ownership of Jamaican sugar plantations.
Col
Peter Beckford, Alan's great-grandfather x 7, was Governor of Jamaica in the
1600s.
Famous
enough, but it was his great-nephew, William, who, a century or so later,
heaped notoriety on the family.
Infamous
roué: in 1784, the revelation of two affairs (one with his cousin Peter's wife,
the other with a handsome boy of 16) forced him to flee to the continent, where
he travelled, and wrote a Gothic novel, called 'Vathek: An Arabian Tale' -
which was very popular at the time.
Delusional
spendthrift: in 1796, on inheriting the family estate at Fonthill in Wiltshire,
William returns to England and decides to demolish most of the 40 year old
family house, 'Fonthill Splendens', in order to construct Fonthill Abbey, a
Gothic pile of enormous proportions, designed by the hugely gifted, but wholly
unreliable and totally disorganized architect, James Wyatt.
It
has:-
·
windows
50' high
·
front
door 30' high (manned by dwarves)
·
300'
long dining table (where Beckford dined alone)
·
280'
tower built with faulty cement (fell down for
·
the
third and last time in 1825)
1807:
Beckford moves in while it is still incomplete but in 1823 sugar prices plummet
and he has to sell for £300,000 which he spends on building the 154' Beckford
Tower near Bath, still standing and visitable today. Fonthill Abbey was
demolished within 30 years.
The
Devon and Long families are nearly as distinguished, but nowhere near as
interesting
….
Here
are Alan’s great-grandfather Charles Devon and great-grandmother Mary Long
So
finally we come to the Durnfords, a family which had served in the Royal
Engineers for generations (see final page of document for family tree).
Above
are Alan’s grandfather, Col Arthur George Durnford, and his grandmother,
Victoria Harriet Louisa Devon.
Alan’s
uncle was one of the most experienced officers in the Anglo-Zulu wars, with a
sympathy for African peoples rare among the British, it is said. He could be
hot-headed but was widely admired for his leadership qualities, and he fought
valiantly but in vain at Isandwlana at the head of a mixed force of African
troops. Historians generally agree that Durnford’s position was compromised by
the lack of control and good intelligence of the British general in overall
charge, Lord Chelmsford. Also, crucially, Col Durnford and his force ran out of
ammunition.
This
awful episode, played out well before Alan’s birth in 1904, was not the only
tragedy to befall the family, as we shall see, in a far more personal and
painful way for Alan in WW2.
From what we can gather, Alan’s childhood was
a fairly normal one for the times; he seems to have been very close to his
mother, although it is, I think, his nanny who is pictured left with Alan and
Evelyn, his younger sister by 2 years. There were frequent visits from members
of the Durnford family (perhaps his grandmother, below left) and happy times in
the garden and by the sea, especially at Budleigh Salterton, the home of the
Durnford family.
Alan
was often pictured, as many boys of the era, dressed in a sailor suit, as he is
above right, with his arm protectively around his sister.
The
young Alan's first attempt at writing that we know about, ‘A Play for Children
– Miss Mifton’s School’, is a tale of subversiveness in the classroom, with
mayhem reigning, as new pupils answer back and encourage open rebellion, and
where inks blots are thrown at the schoolteacher, Miss Mifton!
Alan’s emerging fascination with
communities, particularly villages, is revealed in a slightly later and more
mature childhood invention, the country of Thrace-Midea, featuring the
oddly-named 'Jikky'.
The
young Alan describes Jikky as 'a delightfully picturesque village, populated by
typical Thrace-Midea rustics. The houses mostly have thatched roofs, and
lattice windows are a common feature'.
As
you can see, Thrace-Midea is a region which is a patchwork of named villages,
all linked with a railway (of course), working to a complex timetable.
This
is very much a Trumpton-style world which the young Alan conjures up; a cosy,
self-contained well-ordered society, where the people live their lives without
apparent hindrance from the outside world.
Although
Alan was at prep school near Guildford from 1914-1917, it seems his heart was
very much at Fareham. Here, the effects of what was happening over the channel
were being keenly felt in the Tarbat household, where the Vicar and his wife,
as the hub of the community, did what they could from afar to maintain the
morale of the troops from families in the parish. James and Ethel worked
tirelessly to make sure that letters were written to those on active service,
gifts sent, and the replies read by all (including Alan in the holidays),
however desperate and depressing the content.
Alan
took pains to keep much of this correspondence from the front line, so we can
assume he was touched by it at the time when his little, close-knit town was
being rocked by a far-flung hell.
Did
all this go to shape a conservatism in him which craved order and abhorred
change?
Did
the war and the influence of his father, who was very much a pacifist judging
by the prayers of his Alan kept, sow the seeds of Alan’s internationalism?
Did
the sight of the trains taking the endless streams of troops away to an awful
fate become a longing for peaceful travel through idyllic landscapes to utopian
destinations?
Let
us examine the little we know of Alan’s father’s side of the family.
Alan’s
paternal grandfather was one Alexander Tarbat of Hammersmith. Alexander,
originally from Scotland and described as a Yeoman of the Guard on the 1881
census, had married a Somerset girl, Elizabeth Hipkins, in 1860.
There
were two children from the marriage, James and his sister, Jessie, who died a
spinster in 1925.
Alan’s
father, James, graduated from Cambridge in 1886 and entered the ministry – a
Deacon in Oxford, Curate first at Reading, then Weybridge and Vicar of Fareham
from 1901-1928. Apart from his pacifist leanings, we know that Alan’s father
was an expert entomologist, whose papers are still retained by the Department
of Zoology at Cambridge University.
James’s
obituary in The Times in February 1937 states that he had done much for
temperance and education in the town, including being the first (and a
long-standing) Chairman of Governors of Fareham Grammar School.
Royal
allegiance and correspondence are features of the family history. Ethel
herself, like all genteel Victorian girls, was taught to paint and sketch, a
skill that Alan also learnt, as we shall see from his pencil drawing of Vicars’
Close used for the inside cover of his travelogue, Arrow of Gold. So Alan’s
home from birth until Wells was Fareham, in fact 46 High Street, not far from
his father’s church.
Alan's
emotional ties with Fareham are perhaps illustrated by his copious
correspondence home, first from his prep school at Edgeborough in Guildford,
then at Lancing College in Sussex in September 1917, when a string of letters
of near suicidal desperation reveal a very unhappy start. The thirteen year old
Alan appeals mainly to his mother to have him removed, but he also tugs at his
father's heartstrings by claiming there to be a spiritual coldness about the
place, with a regime that allows little time for prayer or bible-study. 
The
Websters also say that as soon as Driberg published his autobiography in 1976,
Alan rushed out to buy a copy to ensure his name wasn’t in it; as it wasn’t!
These
three bright young men all met up again at Oxford, Alan at Keble where he took
a degree in English Literature, Driberg at Christ Church, and Waugh at
Hertford, although it is doubtful Alan saw much of them apart from perhaps at
Pusey House, an independent religious establishment set up in memory of
a former member of the Oxford Movement. Alan mentions Pusey House in a letter
home and is clearly taken, as are many other undergraduates, by its liturgy
with full solemn ceremonial, and active social character.
Tom
Driberg was a regular visitor to Pusey. Anglican by family tradition, he had
found services at Lancing uninspiring, and had been introduced to the more
ritualistic catholic mass elsewhere by the sons of Anglo-Catholic clergymen.
Indeed in his autobiography, 'Ruling Passions' (a double-entendre if ever there
was one!) he wrote that he was 'keen for our clergy to lean Romewards, if it
was to make church services less tedious.' An extra dimension to all this is
the fact that the mid-20s were known as the era of the 'bright young things',
young and carefree aristocrats and bohemians whose extravagant and outrageous
lifestyles scandalized wider society. Evelyn Waugh, in whose novel, Vile
Bodies, the term Bright Young Things first appeared, and Tom Driberg certainly
fitted this particular description, becoming members of the notorious
Hypocrites Club, later
banned. I cannot find any mention of this club in Alan's
letters home!
The
new belief is promoted by such clerics as the eccentric Rev Smithett Lewis,
Vicar of St John’s, Glastonbury, who was the brother of Edward Lewis, Preb
Ritchie’s predecessor at The Cathedral School. Another who subscribed to the
belief was Preb Charles Bennett, Rector of Pilton, author in 1930 of a booklet
entitled ‘Joseph of Arimathea, founder of Pilton Church'.
Another
of Ritchie’s predecessors, Rev William Creaton, Headmaster at Wells from
1896-1904, had linked Priddy to the Jesus Voyage, and in 1927 Donald Maxwell
had written an article entitled ‘The Legend of Priddy’, in which an old timer
of the village explains that the ringing of the bell three times was the
Church’s message that Christ still came to Priddy.
There
were many such publications and affirmations of this belief in the 1920s and
30s, so it is very possible that Alan, whose Christian faith, love of travel,
and of Wells and its surrounding area bonded together in a perfect and
irresistible union, quickly becomes drawn to the romantic notion of the Jesus
Voyage, along with many others. These may well have included an uncle of Peter
Yerburgh's, Rev William Higgin Beauchamp Yerburgh, since his widow once used in
a letter to the Glastonbury Abbey archaeologist, Frederick Bligh Bond, the
expression ‘as sure as our Lord was at Priddy’.
With
all this, Alan's poetic muse finds a rich vein to tap into, and it is not long
before he produces in 1928 his best known poem, The Rider of Mendip, whose
theme is a rider being guided to safety through the hill fog by a Christ-child
figure.
Alan
quickly becomes acquainted and falls in love with the surrounding area and its
communities. Dulcote becomes a particular favourite; indeed in one poem he
likens it to Bethlehem, and some years later he finds a Dulcote family, the
Pointings, to take him in during holiday times when he himself is not
travelling.
They
become part of many routines over many years - he was often seen taking that
lovely walk across the fields into Wells from Dulcote and making his way to
Mendip Dairies in Sadler Street to partake of his favourite breakfast of two
poached eggs on toast. (Peter Bishop recalls that Alan once told him ‘A
gentleman should never have fewer than two poached eggs, a lady never more than
one’!)
So
this is no desk-bound writer; he is a man whom travel inspires, yes of course
by train, and even to places like Bridgwater, of which he paints a very rosy
picture for those who might not, or cannot, visit.
Such
work is printed first in the press on a regular basis, then as a book entitled
Arrow of Gold in 1933 (see left his sketch for the inside cover).
Later,
we see other travelogues, originally appearing in the Bristol Evening World,
reprinted in 1946 in booklet form as Shireways, with titles such as ‘Let’s walk
around Glastonbury’ and ‘A Wayfarer’s Wells’.
As a resident of Glastonbury, I cannot
resist sharing with you Alan’s typically wishy-washy opinion of the place:
‘Glastonbury is the mother of all saints. Everyone knows that. But others have
tried to foist on to her the bastard children – Slop, Slatternliness and
Sentimentality - and her skirts have been soiled.’
It
is almost impossible to deny that with his love of travel there must come a
real connection with different peoples and their communities, just as in his
childhood, and a sense of internationalism.
Alan
goes off on his travels every year at the first opportunity - Assisi, Sienna
and Vienna all inspire poems. And he travels not just by train in Europe; the
stamps of the countries of North and South America are printed in his passport.
Buffalo, the second city of New York State, would certainly have been one of
his destinations, the university's English Department there making Alan's
poetry a favourite study (they still have a collection). Peter Yerburgh writes
‘One of the many kindnesses that Alan showed was to take Ian Beacham (my
predecessor as Chaplain) for a trip to Russia at his expense in 1953. They made
a point of going into every famous Moscow church and saying a prayer. The
Russian church was at that time under Communist control and their guide would
have reported their action. So, it was quite a courageous resolution on their
part.’ William Webster adds that Alan and Ian also visited Stalin and Lenin’s
tombs. Even on retirement Alan chose to make a trip on the Trans-Canadian
Express.
There
was certainly a key role ready for him - the opening of the Junior House in
1934, when Alan was, according to a line in his obituary, ‘brought back as the
obvious choice to inculcate reasonable behaviour and good manners.’
But
after three years, Alan leaves Wells again, this time for Romsey in Hampshire
and a school called Wellow Wood, perhaps to be near his dying father.
Ironically, it is soon evacuated like so many others, first briefly to Claver
Morris, and then to the Lake District, to escape the German bombers as they aim
for the cities. Alan’s collected poetic works, ‘The Rider of Mendip and other
poems’ come out in 1939 as the war starts to impose itself in Alan’s writings;
the final poem in the collection, chillingly entitled ‘Requiem’, opens with the
line ‘Bury me in peace, when the holocaust is over’.
Alan
becomes a popular member of staff at his new school and is thanked in the 1940
school magazine, in particular for his help with chapel services and for
playing the organ. One former pupil of Wellow Wood has very recently recalled
to me that Alan taught English and Divinity, approved of Edgar Alan Poe, took
them on long walks and cycle rides, played the piano at winter sing-songs and
the chapel's harmonium every day and twice on Sundays.
The
war, even from far away Westmorland, makes him write, and how he writes!
Escapism is found in a never-to-be-printed story called ‘Miss Middleton’s
Romance’, but he reserves his best work for a string of poems for each month of
The Second World War from September 1939 to February 1940.
These
poems, under the title of ‘Pain and Progress’, are written first for the Daily
Sketch newspaper, and then published in 1942 as a booklet entitled ‘6 Months of
War’, with a glowing foreword by the paper’s editor, Sydney Carroll, later a
successful TV screenwriter. Profits go towards the Lord Mayor of London’s Air
Raid Distress Fund.
There
are six poems for September 1939 and October has 18! While the pacifist in him
rails against the war in most, some are reflective and some aim to lift the
spirits.
So
clearly Alan’s and his parents’ experience of World War 1 in Fareham and his
familiarity with and obvious affection for Europe make this a fertile time for
him in the literary sense, but a painful and challenging one for him
personally. Now back at Wells (Michaelmas 1941), many of his pupils go off to
war never to return. Another tragedy involves Geoffrey Millen, Captain of the
School and a talented young writer, whose one printed collection of poetry Alan
kept to the end, and who dies from a short illness while still a pupil.
The
worst news of all comes when his beloved sister Evelyn and her husband, Cecil,
a close and dear friend of Alan's at Oxford, both die following the Japanese
invasion of Singapore where they had gone to teach. Evelyn took the last ship
out of Singapore, the SS Koala, and survived its sinking but ended her days in
a prisoner of war camp in Sumatra in 1945 racked by disease, whilst Cecil,
Chaplain to the prisoners of war working on the Burma railway, died there in
1943. (See footnote re Evelyn as a POW)
Alan
continues to write and the papers continue to print. Apart from the war and its
horrors, there are the pupils to engage and entertain through his love of
language; he produces a properly printed booklet of Junior House Rhymes, such
as:-
A
gentleman (podgy) named Creed
Lives
a life that’s one guzzle and feed.
But
of course his friends know
That
he does it to grow
And
never suggest that it’s greed.
And
then, later on, there is the tree in College Road whose fate is relived in a
newspaper article on Alan’s retirement: 'Many of his attempts at preservation
were perhaps quixotic and unsuccessful. One remembers him standing all morning
with his arms round a beech tree in College Road to save it from being felled.
It was felled all the same when he went off in the afternoon, but his protest
was noted and has probably led to a more considerate attitude since then’.
Faith
and creativity are still evident; Alan’s Two West Country plays are written in
1950 and performed at the long-gone Byre Theatre in Chamberlain Street, and in
1951 he is the co-writer of the Wells Cathedral Pageant which fittingly
concludes with the hymn ‘Glory to thee, my God this night’, the Evening Hymn of
Bishop Ken, whom Alan greatly admired.
But
life is not always serious; he is still young enough at heart to try his hand
at new things.
correspondence.
Life
is not always easy; moving out of the Cedars on retirement into a flat in Saint
Andrew’s Lodge and having to live alongside others in residence there. One
younger member of staff also in the Lodge was heard to complain bitterly
‘Whenever I run a bath, Mr Tarbat gets in it!’
Life
is not always fair; having to move from Saint Andrew’s Lodge and his beloved
Liberty without the comfort of a school community around him for the first time
ever. Between them, his good friend Tom Webster and the family of the then Head
Boy, Bill Leggett, find him a bed-sit in Chamberlain Street. Kevin Duggan’s
last memory of Alan is visiting him there, and witnessing his enormous struggle
with the steep stone stairs. How much more comfortable Alan might have been had
he earlier taken Tom Webster’s advice to buy one of the new retirement flats on
the site of the Carmelite Convent in Chamberlain Street. Alan’s practical
cluelessness and resistance to change could be endearing, but it was also at
times a huge weight on his ageing shoulders.
So,
sadly, within a very short time, like a fish out of water, Alan seems to lose
the will to live, suffering from Motor Neurone disease and passing away not
long after in 1978 at Mendip Hospital in the early hours of 29th September, his
favourite festival, that of St Michael and All Angels. There is a full memorial
service to him in the Cathedral but he is buried back in his beloved Fareham,
close to his parents.
We will all have our own memories, happy
and perhaps not always so happy, of Alan Tarbat the teacher - and colleague;
the fussiness, the bachelor ways, the insistence on things being just so:
Jeffrey Bigny recalls, with a certain amount of irritation, Alan heaping huge
quantities of marmalade onto his pieces of toast at breakfast. And Russell Clarke,
member of staff in the 1950s, remembers that Alan had to have a particular arm
chair in the Common Room, and would swivel it round to a particular spot in
front of the gas fire - avoiding the dangerous holes in the floor - with an
urgent ‘Will you propel yourself, Mr Williams?’
And
then of course we all remember his battle with the decimal point - that damned
dot - and the infernal biro, his love of puns (who can forget the cringeworthy
‘If you want to be a star, plan - it’?) the named slipper and umbrella etc. and
the many other eccentricities, more accentuated as the years go by, but
fundamentally part of Alan’s way of engaging with his pupils and getting
information to stick.
My
feeling is that most who had anything to do with Alan Tarbat will remember him
as a man who, shaped by his upbringing and his times, essentially loved his God
and His creation, his country, and his fellow man. 
But
unlike me, he does not give a cursory glance and move on, he begins to think of
the human beings behind the names - the young men from the town - and to
imagine what awful fate they would have suffered in a far off place.
He
then writes two simple, verses which I feel, in many ways, reveal the man
behind all the bluster that we remember so well: a man of faith, a man of
peace, a man of passion and true compassion:-
On
seeing the War Memorial in Mittenwald, Bavaria
These
were our foes; these lads of pleasant mien,
Snatched
in the jaws of man's insane machine
To
wreck the Eden God bestowed on earth.
These
were our foes: and Satan chortled when
They
slew our friends - proud powers of hell on high
Raining
to earth doomed legions amongst men -
And
Mittenwald made hope at Pilton die.
Written
by Roger Parsons
Thanks to Roger for permission to use this
research
Footnote
re Evelyn as a POW
Survivors
from Evelyn’s Japanese prison camp have testified that she used to comfort her
fellow-prisoners by frequently reciting the Michaelmas Prayer, which never
failed to convince them of the existence of guardian angels – a conviction
shared by Alan.
The Michaelmas Prayer
St Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the
devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do Thou, O Prince of the
Heavenly Host – by the Divine Power of God – cast into hell, Satan and all the
evil spirits, who roam throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen
Line to Alan Tarbat from the
Beckfords through the Long, Devon and Durnford families
Richard
Beckford (Tailor and Clothworker of Maidenhead)
ǀ
Peter
Beckford (went to Jamaica) m Phyllis
ǀ
Lt
Col Peter Beckford (Gov of Jamaica) b 1642 d 1710 m Bridget, daughter of Sir
William Beeston d 1691
ǀ
Thomas
Beckford (killed
in a duel) 1682-1731 m first Mary Tolderby then Mary Ballard, daughter of
William Ballard (Thomas’ elder brother Peter’s son was the ‘great’ William
Thomas Beckford of Fonthill 1760-1844)
ǀ
Thomas
Beckford d
1746 m Mary Byrdlosse ?
ǀ
Mary
Ballard Beckford b
30/01/1736 d 16/07/1797 m Edward Long of Aldermaston House 12/08/1758 at St
Katharine’s, Jamaica
ǀ
Edward
Beeston Long b
01/03/1763 d 1825 m Mary Thomlinson 20/02/1786 in Marylebone, London
ǀ
Mary
Long b
1797 m Charles Devon 13/07/1822
ǀ
Victoria
Harriet Louisa Devon m
Col Arthur George Durnford
ǀ
Ethel
Mary Victoria Durnford m Rev James Edward Tarbat
ǀ
Alan
Cecil Tarbat and Evelyn Mary Tarbat m
Rev Cecil Parr
I found this blog by chance when looking up Alan Tarbat, after buying an updated version of his guide to walking round Glastonbury. Fascinating!
ReplyDeleteI used to visit Mr Tarbat, weekly, for tea and a chat, in the mid 1970s. He was a lovely old man. He described witnessing the tower of Chichester Cathedral collapsing whilst passing on the train.
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