At Paradise School he used also to play cricket and often related how, as a bowler, he was once instrumental in splitting open a batsman's head.
He was in Lisbon with his future brother-in-law,
Herbert Willis, eagerly awaiting the result of his Final,
the first intimation that he had passed being when he
saw his name among the successful candidates in the Pass
List in the Times at the British Club. He had particularly
asked his sister Jeannie if he could bring out with
him for a holiday Herbert Willis as he has a very pretty
sister
. They enjoyed themselves, swimming about in
the Bay, often with his niece Mary on his back.
I vividly remember his going off to France in 1917.
As he said goodbye to Mother in the dining room of 33,
Elesmere Road, he bent down to me (aged 6) and said
You must look after Mummy for me
, and then went and
got in his cab, as this turned the corner of the road,
he leant right out of the window to wave to us standing
at the gate.
On his second leave from France, when we were all
together at Worthing, he took us all to see the Maid of
the Mountains
, at the local theatre, and came out early
to take young Doris back home as she wasn't feeling too
well.
He was a great help to us children in our struggles with homework, helping us in all subjects - Latin, French, English, etc. but he particularly excelled in the more complicated arithmetical problems.
During his active business career, from say 1920 to 1939, he became associated with the Royal Exchange Assurance, and acted for that Corporation in investigating the title to all Reversions, which it was proposed to buy or on which to lend. He was particularly friendly with the Actuary, Mr T.F.Anderson, the Deputy Actuary Mr B.D.G.Brown, the Assistant Actuary Mr C.Middleton, and certain senior officials of the Trustee Department.
He was, without doubt, one of the leading authorities
in London on all legal matters appertaining to
Reversionary Interests. It was a branch of his profession
which appealed to him immensely, and he consequently
specialized in it, and thoroughly enjoyed all the legal
difficulties, and intricacies so peculiar to that type
of interest. He was acknowledged by the Royal Exchange
Corporation as being the final and highest authority.
As the Actuary once said to me: What he says goes -
there is no one in London who knows more about Reversions
than he
.
Dad was also friendly with Mr Martin, Actuary of the British Equipable Assurance Co., and likewise acted for that small company in the matter of all Reversions.
On his death I received a personal letter from Mr Middleton, the Actuary, and in this he says:
Although we only met in connection with business, yet I had great respect for your father. He was certainly most diligent and able in the matters he handled for us, and we have not had the assistance of anyone equal to him since. I profited a good deal by contact with him, with all his experience and good advice.
Even after his retirement, he always remained very interested in news concerning his old friends and was pleased to discuss them with me.
He was a Life Governor of St George's Hospital and the Royal Free Hospital.
On being commissioned in 1941, I wore Dad's own original
Sam Browne
, which had matured and been polished up to
a magnificent rich mahogamy colour. Dad also gave me
his old compass, map case, and haversack, etc., and was
delighted I was using the same equipment he himself had
used in the First World War, although greatly deploring
the necessity of so doing.
Mention might be made that he was very pleased to welcome on a number of occasions during the World War 1939-1945 his nephew Ted (George Edward Bergh) son of his elder brother Hal, who had come over to this country with the Canadian Expeditionary Force.
Tio died 13.1.1944, and Dad was desperately anxious that one of the family should be present at his funeral at New Milton. He wanted to attend himself, but was restrained by Mother, who said she would go herself. However it was finally agreed that I should attend. I was stationed near Basingstoke, and had to leave at 6.00 a.m., trains from London were very late owing to a heavy air-raid during the night, and in any case it would have been impossible for Mother to have got through in time to attend the funeral, owing to the damaged railway lines. Mary Wilson had intended to accompany me, but unfortunately was suddenly indisposed. I attended the funeral in company with Auntie Nan and Frieda Hickson, and that evening, on my return to camp, wrote Dad a long and detailed account of everything. Apparently he had anticipated this, waiting at the front gate the following morning for the postman to bring him my letter.
December 1944 saw Dad very seriously ill. I was stationed at Frinton and was 'phoning through every day expecting to hear the worst. On Christmas Day he was not expected to live 48 hours, and so early next morning, the 26th, (a cold foggy day, with plenty of snow), I managed to get a lift in an army car coming to London and arrived at Chiswick at 3.00 p.m. Mother was very worried and Dad was obviously seriously ill. But he recognized me, and was very pleased to see me, and greatly amused over my account of a mock surgical operation which had been carried out at a concert for the troops. He was very weak indeed.
On the 28th December I applied for 48 hours leave, and
Mavis joined me at her parent's home, Chalfont St Giles.
On 29th, a filthy cold and foggy day, we both went to
see Dad, who appeared to be much weaker and actually
sinking. He was again very pleased to see us, particularly
Mavis who looked very nice in her fur coat
. We
arrived at 1.20 and had to leave by 2.15. I said Goodbye
to him alone and he told me, slowly, haltingly I know I
am very ill, but I think I shall pull through this - yes
I think I'll get over this
. Mavis said Goodbye, kissing
him and calling him Father Bergh
as she always did and
which he enjoyed.
I continued to 'phone every day, and he gradually got stronger, and better, much to everyone's surprise, not excepting the family doctor, Dr Washbrook.
When my daughter Sally was born, he congratulated me
and said how delighted he was to have another grandchild.
Although undoubtedly hoping for a grandson, yet he
appeared rather amused with his four granddaughters - and
used to refer to them jokingly as the Bergh Ballet
.
I took him and Mother down to the nursing home at Windsor where Mavis was confined, and he held the newest grandchild in his arms. He subsequently saw Sally several times on our visits to Chiswick.
My daughter Sally Ann, was christened at Chalfont St Giles on Saturday 26th January 1947, and that morning we received what turned out to be our last letter from Dad.
33, Ellesmere Road,
Chiswick, W.4. 24th Jan. '47.My dear Mavis,
May Sally Ann be endowed tomorrow with the best of everything in this life and the next and continue to wax greatly in beauty and a source of joy to you both, of course she will bear in mind all the promises which will be made on her behalf.
Am sorry not to be able to be with you not alone because it will be a joyful occasion but I shall miss the opportunity of seeing your parents to whom my kind regards please.
My writing is as you see getting more atrocious. Let it be a warning to Sally Ann. She will at least be able to boast that she had a Grand parent who couldn't write!
With love,
yours affectionately,
GrandpaBergh.
During the War years when so much of his time had to be spent in bed in the kitchen, I lent him my small electric wireless set which was so arranged that he could switch it on from the bed to hear the news. He was delighted to borrow this and it gave him pleasure to hear the news at first hand.
Apart from a moustache in the early days of his youth, he
remained clean shaven the whole of his life - shaving
himself to the day of his death with an old fashioned
cut throat
. He had grey-blue eyes, was of slim build,
about 5'11" high and of fair complexion.
He was a very good sailor even in the roughest seas and on the smallest boats.
One of his interests might be mentioned that for many
years he had been a very heavy cigarette smoker,
averaging 40/50 a day - a confirmed chain smoker, but
this had to be given up completely at the beginning of
the war, following his attacks of Angina. A few years
later I suggested he must be very pleased and probably
would not enjoy a cigarette even if he decided to smoke
one. He smiled and said Just give me the chance -
.
He was an omniferous reader, and was never without a book in the evenings. He had a very wide general knowledge.
He was a good chess player, and taught us children the rudiments of that excellent game.
In his youth, and during his early marriage days, he had been a very keen philatelist, specializing in the stamps of Portugal and England.
He always enjoyed a walk, like his Father, and regularly every Sunday morning, one of us children used to accompany him. In his later years, he always went for a short stroll every morning, provided the weather was not too inclement.
He had no dogmatic or determined religious beliefs, and
was inclined to be an agnostic saying it would be
foolish for a man to deny the hereafter
. He had an
open mind on the subject.
One of his greatest interests was genealogy, and he was always ready to talk on this subject. His extensive and painstaking research enabled him to find out a lot of most interesting facts, and it might be said of him, as of Wren,
Si monumentum requiris, circumspice
I think emphasis should be given to one outstanding trait in his character. He was intensely proud, without in any way being conceited, and was a man of the highest integrity and probity. If of anyone it was true of him: his word was his bond.
I was staying at Chiswick the week before his death, and
on that very morning, the 20th May, he came along to my
bedroom about 8 o'clock, on his way down to breakfast,
to have a chat about my car which had been left overnight
on the grass verge in front of the house. I could
not help thinking how well you look
. Upright, greying
hair and with plenty of colour in his face. Downstairs,
I said my usual Goodbye Dad
, to which he replied, and
alas, they were the last words he heard from me, for he
died that very evening at 6 o'clock, without ever regaining
conscientousness from his stroke.
He had several times told me he hoped he would not linger on incapacitated and a burden to Mother, and the nature of his going was such that he had his wish.
Dad adapted the following famous poem, for use when in the Special Constabulary.
FATHER WILLIAM (Up-to-date)
You are old Father William
the young man said
And your beard has become very white
Yet you continually abandon your bed
Do you think at your age it is right?
In my youth
Father William replied to his Son
I reached bed as soon as desired
But now I'm a Special, you Son of a Gun
It's a case of keep up or get 'fired'
.
You are old
, said the youth and ought to have sleep
Besides you're uncommonly fat
Yet you advance and retire, form fours and two-deep
Pray what is the reason of that?
In my youth
said the Sage as he sat on his box
My muscles were all very hard
And now that I may come in for some knocks
Drill will help me keep down the blackguard
You are old
said the youth and given to talking
At home, in a chair, at your case
But lately you seem to do only walking
And - my word - you have got a sneeze
At first
said his Father being full of the war
I argued each night with the Sergeant
But the muscular strength he had in his jaw
Speedily made me be silent
.
You are old
said the youth, with a cold in your nose
And the wet and the snow make you shiver
You are not as young as you were I suppose
How DO you look after your liver?
My Son
Father William softly replied
This job is now all I can do
Had I been young, I'd rather have died
Than let others do the fighting for you
At the end of these Memories, Rowie added the following poem:
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no morning at the bar.
When I put out to sea.
But such a tide as moving seems asleep
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark.
For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see the Pilot face to face,
When I have crost the bar.
I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel,
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.
Completed Sunday 29th March 1949 by his ever sorrowing son,
[signed] Rowland Bergh
Hawthorn Cottage,Kennel Lane,
Fetcham,
Surrey
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Copyright © Anthony Hickson