Am sitting with a pint of beer in a little wayside inn. After roamed about, did another sketch and found my way hitherward – inward – backward. The usual gathering of local characters, gossiping slowly in broad Lancashire, smoking and enjoying their pint-pots. Their local knowledge extends about one mile.
[Sketch by Lincoln Lee, titled ‘Roadside Pond near Oldham Harts’]
Went down canal again this evening and did another little sketch (makes me think of a popular song – “another little drink”). Went out with the wagon teams today and galumped round a rough paddock and back over the cobble stones; – like a mild and continuous electric shock. Men keep drifting in from the Hospitals, many being main-body men.
[Another sketch by Lincoln Lee, dated July 1917 and identified as being ‘Near Oldham’]
Watched a bargee and his missus manoeuvre a barge through the locks and met several of the boys out with their tarts and wished I had my tart to stroll about with. Having my usual 3d supper in Y.M.C.A whose name be praised! We had a lecture on gas today (by a sergeant who has been gassed) and put on the goblin helmets and things and breathed through the respirators – rather uncanny.
I have not yet seen the Northern Stars as it is light until after bed-time and on the occasions when I have been on guard it has either been bright moonlight or overcast. Yesterday evening having received note from a Mr. Green I went after tea and hunted him up at his home in a pleasanter part of town. We had a chic little supper – to wit – lobster salad, claret, corn-beef, gooseberry tart, cream cheese and biscuits, strawberries and cream, and a glass of port, which put me in the best of humour with myself – themselves – and things in general.
This afternoon we went for a route march of about 4 miles – a very hot and dusty march, part of the way along the banks of a canal. The lock-gates with the overflow rushing round out of a tunnel at the side are picturesque.
[Note – Lincoln Lee was an amateur water-colour artist. As a family we have retained a set of sketches he did in 1917 and 1918. Almost all are the size of large post-cards. On a number of them Lincoln indicated where they were painted or drawn, and attached some to the original version of the type-script reproduced here. Unfortunately, most were detached at a later date, so it is a matter of guess-work as to when each image was painted and where they may best accompany the text. Lincoln did not appear to have painted at the front itself, but there are some paintings of villages or country scenes in France which he must have done at times of leave or recreation. The below image is marked “Farm near Chadderton near Oldham”. Potentially it was painted in the period after his return from leave and the current post].
Got leave yesterday afternoon to Manchester. The tram soon plunged into miles of streets grimy and uninteresting except for an occasional old Inn or farmhouse, once a landmark, now swallowed up by the great city. Had a glance round at the immense business places and went off to “Bell Vue Gardens”, a pleasure resort where there is an extensive zoo, many booths, dancing platforms (the people waltz solemnly round in the open), skating rink, refreshment rooms etc. Thought I’d have some afternoon tea and they gave me one tiny cake with apologies for war regulations, so I compromised by having a meal – a small pie and 2 small slices of bread and butter and tea, 1/3. Back to Art Gallery: several splendid Gainsboroughs, Romneys, Reyburns, Reynolds, etc., landscapes by Turner (Dido at Carthage, and others), Farquharson, Morely, and other well known painters. Here are Sir F. Leighton’s huge “Andromeda”, “Hero’s last watch”, etc., Watts’ Good Samaritan and Paolo and Francesca. Then there were several pictures each of the Pre-Raphaelites, Rosetti, Ford-Maddox-Brown and Burne-Jones. The big Turner is a gorgeous affair – a dazzling sunset between mountains of glorified architecture towering up from the shores of an inlet of the sea. Hadn’t time to look at the collection of Wedgwood medallions etc. but lingered over the three Rodin statues which the city is lucky enough to possess: they are “Eve”, “Victor Hugo” and “The Age of Bronze”. The Eve is powerful, no grace of form except a kind of primeval uncouth motherliness; great thick ankles and wrists; a heavy form and in the down-hung head an expression and attitude of infinite sorrow – the whole thing giving the impression of the Earthborn, and the shame and the responsibility for shame. The great head of Hugo is an embodiment of intellect. The Age of Bronze is simply a nude figure of a muscular, lithe youth.
I then hunted up the Cathedral – built many centuries ago. It was shut, but I persuaded a choir master who was rehearsing some boys to let me in and one of the boys showed me around. The altar piece is particularly fine, whilst the carvings round the organ and the coloured glass windows were magnificent. It has, besides its grand organ, the oldest English-made organ in the Kingdom that can still be played, and that has, they say, a full rich tone still. Thence off to have a look at the Town Hall, an immense structure with a huge pointed clock tower in the centre. Had a the Midland a grilled steak 2/6, 2 potatoes 6d., a little bread and cheese 10d, glass of beer 8d, tip 6d., Hat-man 2d. – total 5/2 for a very light meal. That’s what comes of living in style.
Walk March 