The Band That Played On (27 page)

Business card of Fred Clarke found on his body

We regret that we do not see our way to bring back home the bodies of those recovered free of expense, and in cases where it is desired for this to be done, it can only be carried out provided the body was in a fit state to be returned, and upon receiving a deposit of £20 on account of the expenses. The remains of those not returned to England we are arranging to have buried at Halifax, each in a separate grave, with a suitable headstone, and we hope this latter arrangement will commend itself to you.

It was said that White Star paid for Hartley’s body to be returned to Britain, but this may have been because his story was so exceptional. Possibly White Star didn’t charge for the Atlantic crossing, but Albion Hartley paid for the coffin, the embalming, and the transportation from Halifax to Boston. It’s hard to imagine that the Clarke and Hume families turned down the offer of the repatriation of their sons’ bodies for free. As it was, on May 3, John Frederick Preston Clarke was buried at Mount Olivet Catholic Cemetery after a service at St. Mary’s Catholic Church and on May 8, John Law Hume was buried at Fairview Cemetery, each of their graves marked by a simple granite stone with their name, date of death, and body number. No relative was present at either of the funerals or burials.

The arrival of Wallace Hartley’s body became a focal point of national grief. This young man not only represented all who had died on the
Titanic
, but also the values that the British feared were in decline. Here was someone, they thought, with a sense of duty, someone who had laid down his life for others. The fact that he exhibited all these traits while playing the tune of one of the country’s best-loved hymns was a point of national pride.

Hartley’s embalmed body was sent by train from Halifax to Boston and from there it was put on the White Star liner
Arabic
, which set sail on May 7. The
Arabic
was due to arrive in Liverpool on Friday, May 17, so Albion Harley arranged for the funeral to be held the next day at the Bethel Chapel in Colne with the burial to be in the family vault in Colne Cemetery, where his two young brothers had been interred. The coffin would be taken the sixty miles from Liverpool to Colne by road in a horse-drawn hearse.

The
Arabic
arrived at South Canada Dock on the morning of April 17. Albion waited in a nearby shed with the relatives of two other bereaved passengers to carry out the grim task of identifying his son from his discolored and bruised face, signing for the effects that had been saved in a white canvas bag, and walking with the undertakers as they took the large polished wood casket with brass mountings to the awaiting hearse and its two horses.

A reporter from the
Liverpool Daily Post and Mercury
wrote that Albion seemed “a pathetic figure . . . suffering from intense mental agony . . . as he signed the receipt for the delivery of the body his hands quivered with emotion . . . he walked away broken with grief.” Albion told the reporter that a friend of his who traveled regularly on the
Lusitania
had heard his son play “Nearer, My God, to Thee” on that ship several times. This seemed to console him. In his life’s defining moment, Wallace Hartley had behaved in a way that would bring pride to any Methodist Sunday school superintendent or choir leader.

The long slow journey of the hearse took ten hours, passing through the Lancashire towns of Preston, Blackburn, Accrington, and Burnley, before arriving in Colne during the early hours of Saturday morning. Away from the eyes of prying observers, the casket was taken into Bethel Chapel where Hartley’s musical career had started more than twenty-five years before, and was met by around twenty of the family’s relatives and friends. It was only when daylight came that Elizabeth Hartley, her three daughters, and Maria Robinson took their final look through the coffin’s small glass window at Hartley’s face. The
Colne & Nelson Times
described a scene filled with pathos. “Grouped around the coffin, from which they tore themselves away only by a great effort, they gazed steadfastly for several minutes. Then over the glass panel was screwed the strong coffin lid and human eye had seen the last of Wallace Hartley.”

The funeral service began at one o’clock, by which time the chapel designed to seat seven hundred was filled with one thousand people— family and friends on the ground level and others in the balcony. Colne itself was crammed with more people than had ever been in the town at any one time, lining the mile-and-a-quarter route from the chapel to the cemetery that the hearse and mourners would embark on at two o’clock. Badges, posters, and postcards had been selling on the streets for at least a week and, according to the
Leeds Mercury
, “The theme for street singers for several days has been ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’” Newspaper estimates put the size of the crowd at anywhere between thirty thousand and forty thousand.

Titanic
memorial postcards

In the chapel Albion and Elizabeth sat with their daughters and Maria Robinson directly facing the coffin, which was on a draped catafalque. Screwed on its lid was a brass plaque bearing the words “Wallace H. Hartley, Died April 15, 1912, Aged 33 years. ‘Nearer, My God, to Thee.’” In front of the catafalque were piles of wreaths and flowers that had been placed there during the morning. Perhaps the most poignant was a floral cross of deep red roses given by Maria, which had the attached message: “O teach me from my heart to say ‘Thy will be done.’”

The service began with Mendelssohn’s “O Rest in the Lord” played as an organ voluntary, followed by the Issac Watts’s hymn “Oh God Our Help in Ages Past,” one of the two hymns Wallace had cited as his favorites. During the singing of it, Albion appeared to be close to collapse. Then came a prayer, the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light,” and a message by the Independent Methodist preacher Thomas Worthington, a friend to the Hartley family whom Wallace had last met on the
Mauretania
in September 1911.

The gray-bearded Worthington gave an eloquent and deeply personal sermon. Captain Smith, he had read, had called on his men to “Be British,” but whereas there were many good things about being British, there was something even more inspiring about being Christian. Worthington continued:

From the bridge today I have a still more noble, more inspiring call to utter—“Be Christian”—and in this, too, I can associate our friend, Wallace Hartley. His sea faring, no doubt, had given him many experiences. There must have been many times when doubts would be raised as to whether nature or steam would prevail. Report gives an actual conversation on the point. What would he do in the face of wreck? Look for his lifebelt? That would be natural. Jump into number 1 lifeboat? Well, all that a man hath will he give for his life. But no! If report is correct—and there is every reason to believe it is—he said, in effect: “I should cling to me my old violin which has given so much pleasure to many, and often to me, and instead of playing to please or amuse or pass time I should play to inspire. Amid storm and wreck I should play “Nearer, My God, to Thee.”

And so it was. The unexpected happened, the unthinkable occurred. The ship that everyone thought could not sink is now two miles at the bottom of the Atlantic. But our friend kept his word. The inevitable command to get the boats ready in the middle of that dark but clear Sunday night, with the subsequent order “Women and children first” found those hands now stiff in death gliding along the strings of that beloved violin and guiding the companion stick, producing the tune that at once became articulate and interpreted the desires of many hearts as they were lifted to heaven. This was done until the waves claimed both him and his violin. Yes, it is brave to be British. It is both brave and noble to be Christian. In fact, it is easier to be British when we are Christian.

We are glad as his family must be that his body has been recovered and embalmed that we may pay the respect due today. We offer our sympathy to his parents and family, who have lost a dear son in a most tragic way. We can do little to lighten their load. It will, however, be some consolation to them that their home has not only produced a brave British musician but a strong Christian, testified to by this vast concourse of people, and re-echoed by thousands throughout the length and breadth of the land. This product of the home life is such of which any parents may be proud.

Oh may we triumph so

When all our warfare’s past;

And dying find our latest foe

Under our feet at last.

Hartley’s coffin nearing the family vault in the cemetery.

The final hymn, inevitably, was “Nearer, My God, to Thee” with the music played by the Colne Orchestra and the voices led by the church choir. “Thoughts innumerable and grievous indeed chased each other across the mind,” reflected the reporter from the
Colne & Nelson Times
. “A month ago the hero, whose body they knew to be in the coffin so easily visible, produced those strains on the precipice of death. Now a world was echoing those notes and he was soon to go on his last journey. Scarcely a soul in the congregation but shed tears as the hymn was sung.”

The mourners were played out to the sound of “The Dead March” from Handel’s opera
Saul
. Before she left, Maria stepped forward to the mass of floral tributes, picked out her cross, and carefully laid it on the brass plaque of her fiancé’s coffin. It took more than an hour for the quarter-mile-long funeral procession to make its way through the crowds lining Burnley Road, Primet Hill, Albert Road, Church Street, Keighley Road, and into the cemetery. The blinds of shops were drawn down, flags were at half-mast, and men solemnly took off their hats as the cortege passed. There were nine carriages; eight brass bands; troupes of scouts; church groups, representatives of the Amalgamated Musicians’ Union, the Refuge Assurance Company, and the YMCA; local dignitaries; policemen; St. John Ambulance Brigade volunteers; choirs; and local musicians. Charlie Black was there as the only representative from the White Star Line and traveled to the burial in a carriage with Thomas Worthington.