The first war ruined so many good things. International travel, for one thing. The story goes that (Englishman) Rupert Brooke was able to cross America with nothing more than a personal calling card. My own (American) grandfather made a pre-war bicycle tour with nothing more than a Bicycle Club ID. His 1915 passport (US) is a single piece of heavy paper folded wallet size, with all the signs of haste in the planning and execution.
So the story of Harry Bensley (that’s him on the left) is a fraction less preposterous than it seems. Continue reading →
Treason doth never prosper. What’s the reason? If treason prosper, none dare call it treason
Old joke, and a good one. The other night we were trying to remember whose it was. Too light hearted for Milton. Too old timey for Dr. Johnson. Not quite good enough for Shakespeare, but about that period.
It was John Harrington.
He was one of your basic old Etonians who went on to Cambridge. He was also the godson of Elizabeth I, which connection helped him get a minor place at court. He was witty, or close enough for courtly work. Seemed to have a taste for dirty jokes. They must have been utterly filthy – the story is they got him exiled to Kelston, near Bath.* Well, the jokes, and the stuff insulting the government in general Continue reading →
We got a copy of A Royal Affair the other week, drawn in mostly on the basis of the costume drama appeal. It’s good stuff, and the more I watched it, the more I wondered how much the film makers had fiddled with the truth. I mean to say, American movies that tear their stories from yesterday’s headlines are almost invariably poppycock.
The Danes, as it turns out, are a bit better at the whole thing, and if you want to avoid spoilers, stop now and get yourself the video. This post isn’t going anywhere.
So – Struensee was a precocious son of a German superintendent (much like a bishop) of Schleswig-Holstein. He trained in medicine, getting degreed at a young age, and spent his off hours rebelling against the stodgy doctrines of his elders. Continue reading →
I’ve heard it suggested that America could pay off its debt to China by giving them Alaska.
There’s a nice symmetry to this idea. After all, before the U.S. showed up, the place was part of the Russian Empire. In large part, this is thanks to A. A. Baranov.
Alaska was known to Europeans, vaguely, as far back as 1741 when Vitus Bering of Denmark made a note of the strait that bears his name. Captain Cook had a look-see, as did others (George Vancouver), but in general it was too far away from the world’s cash centers to garner much sustained interest.
This changed when the locals began offering passers by the local specialty. The entire coastline, it turned out, was crawling with fur covered critters, whose pelts were of a great deal of interest to colder cash centers. The market was insatiable, the supply seemingly inexhaustible. Ruble signs lit up in the eyes of the ambitious and there was, in effect, a fur rush.
Her father was a tailor and the first fifer for a Lorraine Regiment but who yearned for a life of showbiz and eventually lived his dream in a small theatre in Bayeaux, he conducting the orchestra, his wife playing the soubrette roles. When their daughter was old enough, she too wound up on the boards.
It was a provincial affair, but shuffled along well enough. Then, in one of those dramatic turns best suited for bad movies, Mademoiselle Raucourt, célèbre tragédienne happened to be passing through, saw the troupe and more to the point, saw something special in the now fourteen year old Marguerite. She whisked the young thing off the Paris and and put her through the paces, which eventually meant entree to the Comedie Francais. Her first major role was as Clytemnestra in Iphigenia in Aulis. (She sounds a bit young for the role, but what is acting if not a convincing lie?)
Among others in the audience was Lucien Bonaparte, brother to the First Consul. Mlle Georges’ comment: “In spite of his love for his wife, I think he rather liked me.” Continue reading →
Previously Mrs Allen the resident perfume-head noted the rose perfume created by Francois Coty called La Rose Jacqueminot. For those with no particular interest in perfume, the question arises, who was Jacqueminot, and why did Coty name a perfume after him?
The rose itself is a classic red number, the standby for generations of stage door johnnies and penitent husbands. The fellow it was named after was the very opposite of moonstruck.
He was one of Bonaparte’s boys, a dragoon who saw serious action at Austerlitz, Essling, and Wagram, seven times wounded and frequently mentioned in dispatches, usually next to the word “brave” He rose quickly through the ranks – Napoleon believed in rewarding excellence – and eventually found himself in the 1812 Russian campaign, where he was charged with commanding the vanguard during that ghastly retreat. His most notable performance was on the banks of the Berezina. Continue reading →
Really, you couldn’t make up a name like that and even if you did, no fiction editor worth his salt would let it pass. So, truth must step up where fiction dares not tread.
Poivre was the son of a Lyon merchant and was heading towards a religious career when the Society of Foreign Missions, impressed with a native talent of languages, sent him to China and Indochina to get his feet wet with a little evangelical work. Reports of his time there get somewhat murky (mysterious east and all that), a curious mixture of amusing anecdote and utter silence. One story goes that he landed in a Chinese jail through a misunderstanding with a local mandarin but learned enough Chinese while incarcerated to talk himself out of it.
On the utter silent part (or at least the Not-In-Front-Of-The-Servants part), is the fact that he was encouraged to leave the mission and indeed, from China altogether. Certainly he gave up the path towards the church. Continue reading →
And, tocomplete a hat trick (and because I have an admiration and liking for things Romanian), we turn now to Ecaterina Teodoroiu, The Heroine from the Jiu
She was born one of eight children to a poor peasant family in Targa Jiu in Southern Romania and spent her earlier years studying to become a school teacher. Certainly she looks the part.
Of course, looks can be deceiving.
Romania did not enter the war until 1916. In the early years, the kingdom exploited all manner of unlikely resources, including the Scouts. As a nurse with that organization (they were instrumental in moving and tending the wounded), she was able to visit her brother, a sergeant, at the front. She came to appreciate the patriotism and camaraderie that war can create in a group of men. Continue reading →
“When a very small child, I used to pray every night that I might wake up in the morning and find myself a boy.”
Instead she was always what she had been born, an Anglican vicar’s daughter, and a product of Ireland and Surrey. If not a boy, she was still able to get a full measure of ridin’ and shootin’ and such like typically English country pursuits. And, in due course, she would become the only English woman to fight on the front lines of World War One. For Serbia.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. She first had to get through finishing school in Switzerland, and with a small legacy from an uncle and the money she earned as a secretary, to pick up fencing and the rudiments of first aid. Also how to drive, which in her case was in her own French roadster, a Sizaire-Naudin to be specific.
1912-1913 marks the centenary of the First and the Second Balkan Wars, a spot of local trouble that would lead to the killing fields of the First World War. They’re not much remembered outside the area except by specialists and presumably relatives. Certainly they didn’t kick up any household names.
Which is not to say that there were not people with good stories. People like Milunka Savic.
She was a village girl, and either from boredom or patriotism (or possibly because her brother was to ill to go), in 1912 she cut off her hair and presented herself to the recruiting sergeant. Induction was presumably a cursory affair, and she was soon toting gun and bayonet to the front lines. No further record of the brother, but the army got their money’s worth. Continue reading →