Those Who Cannot Learn From History....

"Those who cannot learn from history," wrote George Santayana, "are doomed to repeat it."
In the wonderful BBC series: "World War II, Behind Closed Doors", more of the truth of what actually happened while hundreds of thousands of people were being killed becomes apparent. Of course, so vile a regime as Hitler's had to be stopped, but, as the programme shows the behind the scenes subterfuges between Roosevelt, Stalin and Churchill - often playing each other off against the others - there is the overriding sense of three power-hungry little boys moving toy soldiers around in a game. Sadly, the game is all too serious and not one of the three little boys in old men's bodies seems to have any care whatsoever for the millions who are dying. The usual presentation of immediate history is usually a gloss over a power-seeker's plans and the truth only come to light years after the event.
All of this really begs the question - how long before individuals stop being led by those playing out their games on the world stage? How long before we stop being told and start to think for ourselves?
Hitler could never have done what he did, on his own. Nor could Stalin. Nor, for that matter, could Churchill. And each of those people, in their own country, convinced the masses of ordinary people that they were acting for their benefit, for the good of the country and on their behalf. Supposing the people had just said, "We live our own lives. We have no reason to attack another country, or to be governed by another country. We just get on and do what we do - not told what to do, not telling anyone else what to do. We care for and respect one another." Then the boys would have had to return to their toy boxes.
Of course, that is so simplistic and I am merely naive. But to my mind the real naiveté lies in thinking we cannot think for ourselves. For centuries millions of people have gone to their deaths in someone else's cause - and the ultimate cause, when all the propaganda is stripped away, is usually some weakness in the leader, that he desperately tries to hide behind a mask of strength. Jealousy, fear, something from childhood he never outgrew. Millions more people have willingly handed over their power to other - we need to be told what is good for us, what is bad for us; how we should raise and educate our children...and who knows these things better than we do ourselves?
To return to the original point; it seems that history is now to be played down in Primary Schools. How will have any sense of identity, and means of learning from the mistakes of our forebears, any means of knowing who we are? Without history, we are like people with no idea where we came from; no past experience to guide us. Perhaps that's the plan - after all, in so many regimes where tyrants rule, history is re-written or wiped out altogether.

The Dashing Prince of Battenberg

The Princes of Battenberg were among the most handsome princes in Europe - and none was more dashing that 'Sandro' (Alexander), who, at the recommendation of Tsar Alexander II of Russia, was briefly appointed as the Sovereign Prince of the newly-autonomous Bulgaria.
Moretta fell head-over-heels in love with Sandro and, during a visit to Potsdam, he reciprocated her feelings but - alas! - in the eyes of the proud Prussian court, Sandro, whose mother was a 'commoner' (albeit a brilliant one!) was not of sufficiently royal blood to become the husband of a daughter and sister of a future Kaiser.
For seven years, fluctuating between despair and hope, Moretta prayed that they would be allowed to marry but, the death of Sandro's advocate, Tsar Alexander II, and the turmoil in Bulgaria only added to the intransigence of the Prussian Court. It mattered not that Sandro's brothers had married a daughter and a granddaughter of Queen Victoria. Sandro was ousted from Bulgaria and, returning to Darmstadt, married an opera singer.
The death of Moretta's beloved father increased her despair, and, in her depression she decided he was 'too ugly' and 'too fat' to ever find a husband and embarked upon a drastic diet, bordering on anorexia. It was left to Queen Victoria to take her in hand, inviting her to England in the summer of 1889, with a view to restoring her to health.
And now, another Sando was suggested as a possible husband - the Russian Grand Duke Sandro Mikhailovich.
"I am thinking a great deal about this 'sailor-boy'," Moretta wrote to her mother, "I wonder if anything will come of it - perhaps by the time we meet, I shall know something.".....

Moretta's Mourning...

Moretta, I think, longed more than anything for love. She wanted something so simple, really - a husband and children - nothing more. She had no real interest in politics or even in being a princess. She loved her parents, was a very dutiful daughter, was born at a time of mourning - her father, the future German Emperor Frederick III, had left for battle, and her mother, Queen Victoria's eldest daughter, the brilliant Empress Frederick - was distraught over the death of her little boy, Sigismund. No wonder little Moretta had such a horror of old ladies in black dresses. I imagine that from her cradle, she was surrounded by women in mourning dress, frantic and broken-hearted, bringing with them an atmosphere of gloom which seemed to haunt Moretta for the rest of her life.