If he doesn’t appear in any of the Flashman books, he should have. Of all the outrageous soldiers of the 19th century, Du Pin is one of the most notorious and, like Flashman himself, appears to have been everywhere.
He was born at Lasgraisses in the shadows of the Pyrenees, attended Ecole Polytechnique in Palaiseau and was enrolled as an officer in the French Army. His first few years were uneventful, but that changed for good once he was sent to Algeria in 1842. Made a name for himself a year later in the battle of Smalain the 1847 capture of Abd-el Kader, and featured in the panoramic painting of the event of the sort so beloved of the 19th century patriots. (Full marks if you can make him out.) Promoted to Major by 1851, he was off to fight in the Crimea in 1855 (French cavalry made no such nonsensical cavalry charge into any valleys of death). Four years later he was in Italy, leading a cavalry division and helping the locals break away from the Austrian Empire. Along the way he picked up a pair of Legions d’Honneur and and some other decorations for bravery. Continue reading →
Said to be the inspiration for one of Karl May’s characters, von Slatin is one of those characters who make us feel utterly inadequate.
Born the son of a Jewish convert to Catholicism near Vienna, he was in the commercial academy when his father died rather suddenly. By chance he heard of an opening at a German bookstore in Cairo. The sheer unlikelihood appealed to him, and he was off to Egypt.
All thoughts of bookselling left him as he joined Theodore von Heuglin, explorer and ornithologist into the mountains of Dar Nuba in Sudan. Rough times and much rebellion in the area at the time, and Europeans were few. Before he was through, von Slatin met such luminaries as botanist Dr Eduard Schnitzer (aka, Emin Pasha on his conversion to Islam, later to relieve Henry Morgan Stanley) and General Charles George Gordon. Continue reading →
The recent graduation of three women in the Marine Infantry School revives the whole women in combat issue, and invariably commentators have brought up the story of Soviet women in WWII and their military accomplishments.
There was in fact precedence from the First World War. Not just individual women (there were several of those), but the entire First Women’s Battalion of Death. The crew was the brainchild of a blooded veteran of the eastern front, one Maria Bochkareva.
She was a peasant woman of Novgorod with a history of unfortunate choices in men. She married at fifteen and when he became abusive, dumped him for companion number two. He was exiled to Siberia for criminal misbehavior, she dutifully walked off to join him. And when he repeated the pattern, and became abusive, she dumped him as well and headed back west. Besides, there was a war on and she wanted to do her bit. Continue reading →
Philippe Duc d’Orleans had the dubious distinction of being Louis XIV’s younger brother. It was not a position to be envied. Having the Grand Monarque as a sibling must have been trying sometimes in the extreme, but Monsieur, as Philippe was always called, had a way of getting out of the tedium of his proximity to power: he was gay.
In fact Monsieur was so very far out of the closet, in a place and at a time, when the “Italian vices” were punishable in all sorts of barbaric ways, that it staggers the mind now both that Monsieur could pursue his way of life relatively unobstructed, or that it was so often recorded by memoirists. We know that his brother Louis detested homosexuality, and yet he seems to have tolerated it in his brother, of whom, we understand, he was very fond. Continue reading →
I once had a French teacher whose family was Corsican. Among the family possessions was a dagger, on one side of which blade was engraved Vendetta, on the other, Morte.
Hardboiled, the Corsicans. No surprise that a Napoleon could come out of there.
And while Napoleon had to prove himself to the rest of the world, Sampiero Corso was concerned only with his own country and his own people. Keeping it local, as it were, which is a sensible scope for any political leader.
He was born a commoner in 1498 near Bastelica. Then as now, the army was a means to advancement, and a little less now than then, fighting as a mercenary under foreign flags was a respectable career path. He started out on that path at age fourteen.
In the tangled politics of the day, troops loyal to his Catholic Majesty Francis I, king of France, joined forces with Muslim corsair Khairedihn Barbarossa, king of Algiers and lead admiral for Ottoman sultan Suleiman the Magnificent. Barbarossa had brought his armada all the way from Constantinople to Marseilles help out the French in their interminable fighting against Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor. The original plan had been to take aim at Italy, but in the end, it was poor Nice got the short end of the stick, being both close to Marseilles and a holding of Charles’ ally, the Duke of Savoy.
The Franco-Ottoman armada sailed down the coast on August 7 to an unprepared Nice. Local militia was about all there was on hand. That, and women and children.
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 →
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.
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 →
He was born in Caithness, son of Olaf, who was murdered in 1135 by Olvir Rosta, who a year previously had lost a minor sea battle and carried a grudge. Olvir’s method of restoring his self esteem was the burning Olaf’s house down while Olaf was still in it. This is how cycles of violence start, and neglecting to take out the nineteen year old Sweyn was an oversight that was going to cost Olvir.
That would come later. In the meantime, the boy (who, curiously, took his surname from his mother Aslief) gets his first mention at the 1135 yuletide revels at the household of the earl of Orkney. It seem the Earl’s cup-bearer had grabbed some of Sweyn’s holiday grog, an act that Sweyn did not take in the spirit of the season. He stewed for a day or so, then brained the fellow. Continue reading →