You thought you were having a bad day? Bad days from May in history…

We’ve just found out about an intriguing book that tells tales of bad days in history. In fact it has one bad tale for every day of the year - from the weird to the terrible. And as we enter May, we thought we’d share a few of these with you… From trouble in the American South to Mary Lincoln, and a clash between a communist and somebody who was very rich! So, following is an excerpt from BAD DAYS IN HISTORY: A Gleefully Grim Chronicle of Misfortune, Mayhem, and Misery for Every Day of the Year by Michael Farquhar!

May 1, 1948 and May 14, 1961 and 1963

Raging Bull Connor

There must have been something about the merry, merry month of May that got Theophilus Eugene “Bull” Connor’s blood boiling. With spring in the air, and racial inequality to be maintained at all costs, the super-segregationist public safety commissioner of Birmingham, Alabama, seemed extra-energized by the season.

Bull Connor in 1960. Source: City of Birmingham, Alabama. Available here. 

Start with May 1, 1948, when Glen H. Taylor, U.S. senator from Idaho, came to Birmingham—“the most segregated city in America,” as Dr. Martin Luther King later called it—and tried to enter a meeting of the Southern Negro Youth Congress through a door reserved for blacks, rather than the “Whites Only” entrance. The senator, then running for vice president on the Progressive Party ticket, was promptly seized by the police under Connor’s control. “Keep your mouth shut, buddy,” they ordered, before hauling Taylor away to jail.*

Then came more invigorating May days in the early 1960s, when Connor’s bigotry blossomed furiously in the face of new challenges to white supremacy. The Freedom Riders were coming to town, and Connor was good and ready for them. He had arranged with the Ku Klux Klan a memorable greeting party for May 14, 1961— Mother’s Day. According to one Klan informant, the terrorists had been assured by Connor’s Birmingham Police Department that they would be given 15 minutes “to burn, bomb, kill, maim, I don’t give a goddamn . . . I will guarantee your people that not one soul will ever be arrested in that fifteen minutes.” The Klansmen used the allotted time well, unleashing a savage assault on the riders with iron pipes, baseball bats, and chains.

Two years later, during the first week of May, Birmingham’s children inflamed Bull Connor further when thousands took to the streets in peaceful protest. Mass arrests were followed by a full-on assault on demonstrators with fire hoses and attack dogs—images that were captured on film and sent throughout the world. The media glare and national outrage that accompanied it made Birmingham too blistering hot for Connor that May. Unwelcome change was in the air, change he had inadvertently unleashed. By the end of the month, he was out of a job. Worse, his viciousness had pushed the previously inattentive Kennedy Administration to finally address the gross injustices in the South that Connor so viciously represented in Birmingham.

“The civil rights movement should thank God for Bull Connor,” President Kennedy said. “He’s helped it as much as Abraham Lincoln.”

* Connor had already given vent to his feelings about racial mixing a decade before, when he halted the integrated meeting of the newly formed Southern Conference for Human Welfare with this delightfully oxymoronic declaration: “I ain’t gonna let no darkies and white folk segregate together in this town.”

May 4, 1933

Immural Acts? Rockefeller vs. Rivera

Had it not been for Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, the lobby of New York’s RCA building at Rockefeller Center might still be graced by the work of the world-renowned muralist Diego Rivera. The Rockefellers, capitalists to their core, commissioned Rivera, an avowed Communist, to paint a dramatic centerpiece for the new building. The lofty theme: “Man at the Crossroads Looking With Hope and High Vision to the Choosing of a New and Better Future,” which, in the midst of the Great Depression, would feature two opposing views of society, with capitalism on one side and socialism on the other. Perhaps some might have thought twice about such a potentially explosive topic, but family matriarch Abby Rockefeller was a big fan of the artist, despite, perhaps, his political views, and the fact that he had already ridiculed John D. Rockefeller in another work. Thus, Rivera set about his creative task—with a great big surprise up his sleeve.

A recreated version of Man at the Crossroads. It is by Diego Rivera and called Man, Controller of the Universe. Source: Gumr51, available here.

With work on the mural well under way, future New York governor and U.S. vice president Nelson Rockefeller went on one of his frequent visits to check on Rivera’s progress. This time, however, he saw something entirely unexpected incorporated into the work: a portrait of Lenin himself. Rockefeller was appalled, and on May 4, 1933, he shared his feelings with the artist in a letter asking him to change Lenin’s face to that of an unknown person.

Predictably, Rivera balked at the idea of altering his artistic vision. The same day he received Rockefeller’s letter, the artist responded: “Rather than mutilate the conception, I should prefer the physical destruction of the conception in its entirety.” With that, what Rivera called the “Battle of Rockefeller Center” was on. The artist was ordered to stop work on the project, and his fee was paid in full.

Amid the ensuing uproar from the art world, Nelson Rockefeller suggested the plywood-covered mural be removed and donated to the Museum of Modern Art. But the museum’s timid trustees wouldn’t touch it. Then, the following February, Rivera’s work was suddenly and unexpectedly smashed to bits and tossed into barrels—an act one critic described as “art murder.” The family claimed the destruction was inadvertent, the result of an unsuccessful attempt to remove the artwork intact. But Rivera didn’t buy that, nor did many art connoisseurs. In a wire sent from Mexico City—where he eventually reproduced the destroyed mural—the artist seethed: “In destroying my paintings the Rockefellers have committed an act of cultural vandalism. There ought to be, there will yet be, a justice that prevents the assassination of human creation as of human character.”

May 20, 1875

The Son Sets on Mary Lincoln

Abraham Lincoln tolerated his wife’s wild extravagances and occasional fits of fury with benign chagrin; his son Robert, much less so. On May 20, 1875, just over a decade after the president’s assassination, the younger Lincoln had his mother committed to an insane asylum. It was an ambush, really, one for which Mary Todd Lincoln was entirely unprepared.

The day before her forced confinement, Leonard Swett, a lawyer and adviser to the late president, arrived unexpectedly at the Chicago hotel where Mrs. Lincoln had taken a room. Accompanied by two guards, Swett escorted her to a packed courtroom where a judge, a previously empaneled jury, and an array of witnesses awaited her. Robert Lincoln was also there, having orchestrated the entire proceeding. The son had been long mortified by the eccentricities of his mother, who had endured the tragic loss of two young sons and witnessed the assassination of her husband. But mostly he was concerned about money—and how much of it she was spending.

The former first lady sat in the courtroom that day, by turns bewildered and infuriated, as a parade of experts—many of whom had never met her—testified as to her unbalanced mind, based solely on reports they had received from Robert. Hotel maids and others were called as well, offering such damning evidence as “Mrs. Lincoln’s manner was nervous and excitable.”

Then Robert took the stand. “I have no doubt my mother is insane,” he declared before the court. “She has long been a source of great anxiety to me. She has no home and no reason to make these purchases.”

The defense rested without ever raising an objection or offering a witness of its own. Robert had his mother’s appointed lawyer in his pocket, and he wouldn’t have stood for any rebuttal. While the all-male jury retired to determine Mrs. Lincoln’s fate, her treacherous son approached and tried to take her hand. Rejecting the transparent gesture, Mary Lincoln made her only statement of the day: “Oh, Robert, to think that my son would do this to me.”

Ten minutes later, the verdict of insane was rendered, and the next day Mary Todd Lincoln was locked away. 

We hope you enjoyed the article! There is a bit more on the book below:

BAD DAYS IN HISTORY: A Gleefully Grim Chronicle of Misfortune, Mayhem, and Misery for Every Day of the Year by bestselling author Michael Farquhar is available for purchase on Amazon. It offers a compendium of the 365 most dreadful, outrageous, and downright disastrous days in human history, all shared with Farquhar's trademark wit. 

The Southern Belle… And Spy in the American Civil War

During the American Civil War, one bold woman in the heart of the Confederacy dared to support the Union cause by freeing her slaves, aiding captured soldiers, and leading a spy ring that extended into the Confederate White House itself. Though her story may be obscure, her boldness and courage during the toughest years in American history tell the tale of a true American hero. Chloe Helton explains.

The Battle of Seven Pines, Virginia May 31, 1862. The battle took place near Richmond where Elizabeth Van Lew was from.

John Van Lew, Elizabeth’s father, was the owner of a wildly successful hardware store when he married Eliza Baker, the daughter of a former Philadelphia mayor. No doubt the prominence and wealth of the Van Lew family created the circumstances which allowed for Elizabeth’s successes in aiding the Union during the war. A well-rounded education and cushy wealth made for an outspoken and independent young woman in Elizabeth, and the distaste for these traits among the Richmond elite may account for some of the reason for an attractive, wealthy young woman like Elizabeth having never married. That is not to say, however, that she did not use her charms: often she was able to persuade high-ranking Confederate men to heed her requests, which allowed the success of many of her anti-Confederate actions during the Civil War.

When Virginia announced its secession from the Union, a celebratory parade marched through Richmond, the capital of the Confederacy. Perhaps every citizen in the whole city was present for the festivities except Elizabeth and her mother, Eliza. Elizabeth, an ardent Union supporter who after her father’s death had used her considerable inheritance to buy and free the families of her emancipated slaves, soured at the prospect of secession and considered fleeing the city. Not one to flee from unfriendly situations, and much too attached to her beloved family home, she eventually decided to stay, vowing to instead help the Union in any way she could.

Growing opposition

At first her actions were not hotly opposed within the city. Southerners expected swift victory in the war and initially Northern prisoners were treated well, so even when Elizabeth requested that a captive Northern Congressman who had fallen gravely ill be treated in her own home it was easily allowed, and not much suspicion was aroused. The Congressman, Calvin Huson, Jr., died soon after his relocation despite tender care from the Van Lew ladies, but Elizabeth received a thank-you letter from Union soldiers in Richmond which she kept with her until her death. As the war dragged on supply shortages ravaged the South, and when Elizabeth requested permission to visit the infamous Libby Prison she was told - by the First Lady’s half-brother (a Confederate officer), no less - that a lady like her should not be fraternizing with the enemy. Elizabeth redirected her plea to the Secretary of the Treasury, C.G. Memminger, and after she turned some of his own famous arguments about Christians proving their love for each other through aid even to those who did not deserve it he did grant her request. She used her considerable fortune to buy produce for enemy prisoners in a time when most common city folk could scarcely afford to eat, and the result among her peers was social isolation and death threats.

Van Lew’s induction into espionage did not begin intentionally. Many of the prisoners had acquired pieces of information from the Southerners they came into contact with - guards, doctors, and deserters mostly - and when these bits of hearsay were all compiled it was considerably useful. Elizabeth simply passed it on to Union officers, and because part of her family’s farm was outside the city walls she was easily able to pass on information there without arousing suspicion. Some issues did arise: at one point her pass to visit the prisons was rescinded, but with more manipulation she was able to receive permission again. The prison guards also became wary of her and banned her from speaking to the prisoners. However, this did not discourage her from soliciting information: she poked messages into cloth with pins and slipped pieces of paper into the bottom of a food dish.

Supporting the other side

Despite her valiant and charitable efforts in the prisons, Elizabeth’s real claim to fame began when Jefferson Davis, the Confederate President, began asking for reliable servants for the Southern White House. Van Lew was apparently unable to pass up this opportunity and offered one of her freed slaves for hire, and Davis, who had known her father, accepted. When Mary Bowser began work in the White House, Davis didn’t think she even knew how to read, much less that she had been educated in the North and had photographic memory, so he was careless with his papers around her - too careless. Word soon got out that there was a leak in the White House, but nobody ever suspected the unassuming former slave.

Elizabeth did see other excitement during the war. In 1862 Union forces were tantalizingly close to capturing Richmond, and the feisty Southern belle even prepared a room in her house for General McClellan to stay as her guest. After a powerful speech from Robert E. Lee, however, the Confederates were able to drive them away. Until the next and final invasion of Richmond, Elizabeth bided her time by directing the spy ring she was now leading, which ran so smoothly and efficiently that despite frequent house checks by a suspicious Rebel officer no evidence could be found of her treason. She did protest these annoying visits, eventually housing a Confederate officer as a guest in order to ease suspicion. Van Lew also helped Colonel Paul Revere (a descendant of the Revolutionary Paul Revere) escape certain execution by helping him escape and housing him in her attic.

At the conclusion of the Civil War, as Richmond prepared for the march of Union soldiers into the city, Elizabeth proudly raised the American flag above her home. This bold action caused a mob to descend upon her mansion and she quashed it with feasible threats. After the war, though, Elizabeth’s pro-Union actions were revealed and she faced social isolation throughout the rest of her life. After a stressful stint as postmaster in Richmond and the death of her mother she fell into a depression which lasted the rest of her life. Her bold actions and unrelenting dedication to her cause cemented her in history as one of the most famous spies during the war, however, and her story is an inspiration.

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Reference

• Karen Zeinert - Elizabeth Van Lew: Southern Belle, Union Spy

John Tyler - The Accidental President

John Tyler assumed office after William Henry Harrison died. But how would the American Republic react? Would there be anarchy? Or would the system remain strong? William Bodkin explains the story of how John Tyler took office in 1841…

A portrait of John Tyler.

The president was dead.

For the first time in American history, but sadly not the last, a president had died in office.  One short month after his inauguration, on April 4, 1841, William Henry Harrison was no more.  Not a soul in the United States of America was quite sure what it meant.

The Constitution, on its face, seemed clear.  Article 2, Section 1 stated that in the event of the president’s “death, resignation or inability to discharge the powers and duties of the said office, the same shall devolve on the Vice-President.”  But what did that mean?  The “same shall devolve”?  Was it merely the powers of the presidency?  Was the vice-president merely “acting” as the president for the remainder of the dead president’s term?  Or was it something else?   Did the vice-president inherit the office, as generations of princes, and too few princesses, had when kings breathed their last?

The future of the Presidency was in the hands of one man, vice-president John Tyler.  But his decision would have to wait.  Tyler was not in the nation’s capital, but home in Williamsburg, Virginia.  Tyler had left Washington, D.C. soon after his inauguration.  In those days, the vice-president’s sole responsibility was to preside over the Senate.  That august chamber was in recess until June.  Tyler had known about Harrison’s illness, but elected to stay in Williamsburg lest he be seen as a vulture perched over Harrison’s bedside, waiting for his demise.

Two messengers were sent on horseback from Washington, D.C. to Williamsburg to inform the vice-president.  One was Fletcher Webster, son of Harrison’s Secretary of State, Daniel Webster. The other was Robert Beale, doorkeeper of the U.S. Senate.  The men galloped through night and day to summon the future of the Republic.  It was dark when the men arrived on the morning of April 5, 1841.  The young Webster pounded on the door, but received no response.  The Tyler family was asleep.  Beale, used to rousting intoxicated Senators, gave a try, pounding more vigorously then his friend.  Finally, John Tyler opened the door.  Recognizing the men, he invited them in.  Webster handed over the letter the cabinet had prepared:

“Washington, April 4, 1841

Sir:

It becomes our painful duty to inform you that William Henry Harrison, late President of the United States, has departed this life.  This distressing event took place this day, at the President’s mansion in this city, at thirty minutes before one in the morning.

We lose no time in dispatching the chief clerk of the State Department as a special messenger to bear you these melancholy tidings.

                  We have the honor to be with highest regard,

Your obedient servants.”

Well-qualified?

Tyler accepted the news solemnly.  Letter in hand, he woke his family to tell them.  He dressed, had breakfast, and by 7AM departed with his son, John Jr., who often acted as his personal secretary.  The two took every means of transportation available in 1841: horse, steamboat, and train.  Tyler and his son arrived in Washington, D.C. just before dawn on April 6.

Oddly enough, John Tyler was quite possibly one of the more qualified men to assume the presidency.   No previous vice-president had his resume of political accomplishment: state legislator, governor of Virginia, United States Congressman, U.S. Senator, and vice-president.  Tyler’s father had been also been Governor of Virginia, and had been friends with Thomas Jefferson.  One of the pivotal moments of young John Tyler’s life was when the great Jefferson visited Tyler’s father in the Governor’s mansion for dinner.  Tyler saw himself as not just the successor of William Henry Harrison, but the heir of the legendary Virginia dynasty: Washington, Jefferson, Madison and Monroe.  There was, however, one small problem.  Tyler, true to his origins in the Virginia aristocracy, wasn’t quite a Whig, like Harrison.  But he wasn’t quite a Democrat either, as he had been a fierce opponent of Andrew Jackson.  He was, quite simply, a Virginian.

The former presidents were not about to let Tyler, or the nation, forget it.  Andrew Jackson derided Tyler as the “imbecile in the Executive Chair.”  John Quincy Adams, finding in rare agreement with his old nemesis, blasted the new president as “a political sectarian of the slave driving, Virginian, Jeffersonian school, with all the interests and passions and vices of slavery rooted in his moral and political constitution.”  Adams lamented that Harrison’s death had brought “a man never thought for it by anybody” to the presidency.  Many feared that Tyler would simply be steamrolled by Congress, led by perpetual presidential striver Henry Clay of Kentucky, then a U.S. Senator.  They believed that Tyler lacked the strength of character to deal with the nation’s roiled factions.

They were wrong.  When Tyler arrived in Washington, he seized command.  Tyler tolerated no debate over whether he was the acting president.  He was president in word and deed.  Tyler immediately convened Harrison’s cabinet, declaring that he was not the vice-president acting as president.  He was the President of the United States, possessing the office and all its attendant powers.  Secretary of State Webster, himself one of the other great presidential strivers of pre-Civil War America, told Tyler that President Harrison and the cabinet had cast equal votes in reaching decisions and that the majority had ruled.  Webster did not, of course, explain what decisions had been made by Harrison in the month of his presidency that he had spent on his deathbed.  Tyler firmly rejected the “democratic” cabinet.  He advised the Cabinet that he was very glad to have them. They were a true assemblage of able statesman.  But he would never consent to being dictated to.  He was the President of the United States, and he would be responsible for his administration.  Tyler told the Cabinet he wished them to stay in their posts, but if they would not accept what he said, he would gladly accept their resignations.  No one resigned.

More powerful than any person

Webster suggested that Tyler take the Oath of Office as President to quell any uncertainties.  Tyler asserted that it was unnecessary. He believed that the oath he had sworn as Vice-President was sufficient.  However, he saw the wisdom in putting the nation’s doubts to rest.  William Branch, Chief Justice of the United States Circuit Court of the District of Columbia, was summoned.  Tyler took care to advise Judge Branch that he was qualified to assume the presidency with no further oath, but asked that the judge administer it to him again, “as doubts may arise and for the greater caution.”  The Presidential Oath was administered. 

One of the more enduring attributes of the American Republic is the idea that no one is indispensible to its functioning.  Presidents, Generals, Senators, and Governors come and go. The Republic marches on.  George Washington set the tone by leaving the presidency after two terms in office.  And thanks to John Tyler, the nation knew that if a president should leave office before his term expired, the Republic’s leadership could change hands between elections, even arguably moving from one political party to another, without unrest in the streets, or shots being fired.  It would happen simply by operation of the Constitution and the laws of the land.

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William's previous pieces have been on George Washington (link here), John Adams (link here), Thomas Jefferson (link here), James Madison (link here), James Monroe (link here), John Quincy Adams (link here), Andrew Jackson (link here), Martin Van Buren (link here), and William Henry Harrison (link here).

Sources

Gary May.  John Tyler: The American Presidents Series: the 10th President: 1841-1845 (Times Books, 2008).

Witcover, Jules.  Party of the People: A History of the Democrats (Random House 2003).

Schlesinger, Arthur M., ed. Running for President, the Candidates and Their Images: 1789-1896.

Miller Center of the University of Virginia: U.S. Presidents series: John Tyler (http://millercenter.org/president/tyler).

What if Napoleon Bonaparte had won the Battle of Waterloo?

Napoleon Bonaparte was famously defeated at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815 by British and Prussian forces. But what if that never happened? How would European history have changed if Napoleon had won? Here, Nick Tingley explores why history may have ended up repeating itself…

A picture of Napoleon Bonaparte.

The battle between France and Prussia in 1870 was all but decided at the Battle of Sedan on September 1. As Napoleon III was led through the French countryside for the nearest port, he knew that this battle would spell the end of the Empire. As he was sailed across to England for exile, a unified Germany was created off the back of French territory - and the landscape of Europe would be forever changed.

Had he been more like his uncle, Napoleon Bonaparte, the fall of Napoleon III’s government might never have happened. Bonaparte had known when to give up. Even as the British troops of Wellington and Blucher’s Prussians fled from the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, Bonaparte had known that he had to pursue peace in order to survive. Bonaparte had even offered clemency to the British troops by aiding their evacuation from France after the battle, essentially bringing about a new era of peace in Europe championed by the two enemy nations. Bonaparte had developed so much since 1813 when he had refused a favorable settlement in defeat that he was able to bring about the longest lasting peace that Europe had seen in centuries…

But Napoleon III had not learnt from his uncle’s mistakes and the horrendous defeat at the Battle of Sedan would haunt him until his death in 1873…

When ‘What If’ Collides with History

Ironically, for a ‘What If?’ scenario, this version of history is not remarkably unlike our own. Whilst Napoleon Bonaparte did not win the Battle of Waterloo on June 18, 1815, his nephew did eventually become Emperor of France as a result of the 1848 revolutions that sprung up around Europe. His last act as Emperor was to lead French forces against Prussia in the War of 1870. He was captured at the Battle of Sedan and forced into exile in Britain, where he was forever haunted by the destruction of his Empire. His actions that year effectively allowed the creation of Germany that was, in no small part, responsible for much of the tension between the two countries over the next seventy-five years.

And yet, this event in history may well have occurred regardless of whether Bonaparte had won the Battle of Waterloo. If we suppose, for a moment, that Napoleon had managed to defeat the British and Prussian forces at the battle and maintain control of France thereafter, it is not beyond reason to suppose that, as Bonaparte’s nephew and heir, Napoleon III would have inherited the Empire anyway. Had that happened, the Battle of Sedan would almost certainly have occurred in the same way, leading to his downfall and the beginning of the tensions that would contribute to the outbreak of the First World War.

But what scenario would allow such a divergence from historical fact and yet still arrive at the same point fifty-five years later? Rather than looking to Napoleon III, our attention must be drawn to Bonaparte, the man whose decisions would ultimately determine the future of France and the rest of Europe.

Bonaparte the Warrior

At first we must address Bonaparte’s character. The Bonaparte of 1796, the year that he began his conquest of Europe, was a war leader to the greatest degree. Had he managed to defeat Wellington and Blucher at Waterloo, he would almost certainly have urged his officers to press after Wellington and Blucher’s scattered armies until every last one of them had been captured or killed. He would have then have turned his attention to the armies of Russia and Austria who, whilst not involved in Waterloo, were slowly advancing across Europe to address this resurgence of power.

This would have presented Bonaparte with a serious problem. In the first instance, Austria and Russia had armies of approximately 200,000 men working their way across Europe. In the second, Alexander I, the Tsar of Russia, was particularly keen to eliminate Bonaparte, as he believed that Europe would never remain at peace with him alive. Finally, French conscription, from which Bonaparte had been gathering troops during his previous campaigns, was not currently a policy in France. This meant that he didn’t have access to the same amount of reserves that he had previously.

In this scenario, Bonaparte would probably not have enjoyed any significant success for more than a week or two. With the arrival of the Austrians and Russians, Bonaparte’s armies would have stood little chance at all, and history would have certainly continued down the path that we are most familiar with.

Bonaparte the Stubborn

The Bonaparte of 1813 may have lasted even less time. In 1813, Bonaparte had refused any kind of settlement at all, even though he had been completely defeated at the Battle of Leipzig that year. In that battle, Bonaparte’s armies were effectively expelled from the rest of Europe and forced to retreat back in to France. Had Bonaparte sued for a peace at that time, he might well have retained his title and control over France. The result of his failure to do so was the invasion of France by the Coalition of Russia, Austria and Prussia and his own removal from the throne.

Had he treated his victory at Waterloo with the same refusal to negotiate, Bonaparte would have probably attempted to retake parts of Central Europe immediately following the Battle of Waterloo. Once again, Bonaparte’s failing would have been signaled by the arrival of Russian and Austrian troops which would have led to yet another disastrous retreat back in to France, if not the destruction of his entire army.

Bonaparte the Diplomat

There is, however, one scenario by which Bonaparte may have been able to win at Waterloo and still maintain control of France. If Bonaparte had granted clemency to the retreating British forces of Wellington, history could have taken a completely different turn. The British forces had granted something similar seven years previously at Sintra, where French forces had been allowed to evacuate from Portugal after several disastrous battles. Such an act of honor, whilst completely removed from Bonaparte’s character, may well have been enough to convince the British that there might be a peaceful solution to the French problem.

In the event that Bonaparte had sued for some sort of peace, before the arrival of the Russian and Austrian armies, they may well have found a new ally in the form of Britain. With the two former enemies working together to bring about a new era of peace, it is not beyond reason to suggest that the rest of Europe might have been tempted to follow suit. The Congress system that was prevalent in Europe for the years following Bonaparte’s downfall may well have still existed but with a stronger leader speaking on behalf of France.

However, all of this would rely heavily on Bonaparte being able to disregard all the previous behaviors that had come to define his reign. In order for this scenario to work, Bonaparte would have had to cease behaving like some sort of power-hungry megalomaniac and become a reasonable diplomatic presence in Europe. One can even imagine that, had Bonaparte become the diplomat that Europe needed him to be, the rise of Germany might have been significantly delayed.

The revolutions of 1848 might have been a significantly smaller affair as there would have been no antagonism towards a French monarchy, which would have disbanded with Bonaparte’s renewed rise to power, and therefore no revolution in France. The French revolution, which was one of the larger and more explosive of the 1848 revolutions, would not have existed to encourage the others across Europe. Without the discontent across Europe, we can easily see a scenario in which a united Germany never comes in to being, effectively removing the threat of World War One in 1914 and, therefore, the subsequent World War twenty-five years later.

The Likely Scenario

Unfortunately, Bonaparte’s actions were, by and large, a result of his psychological compulsions and the environment in which he came to power. He was very much a child of the French Revolution; his rise to power had been as a result of one of the bloodiest events in French history. The idea that a man, who owed so much of his power to man’s compulsion towards war, would be content at sitting around a conference table with the other leaders of Europe is improbable at best.

Had he been given the opportunity to make this decision, it is unlikely that he would have taken it, opting instead for the allure of battle. In the event that he had sued for peace, it would almost have certainly been a blind to allow himself time to build up his armies before making another attempt at conquering the continent. In all likelihood, rather than delaying the onset of a World War in Europe, he would almost have certainly caused one in his own right.

However, Bonaparte would not have had long to enact his plans. Barely six years after his victory at Waterloo, he would have succumbed to the pain of stomach cancer and his throne would have been left to his then thirteen-year old heir and nephew, Napoleon III. What chaos would have gripped France as a result of his death is almost unfathomable and not within the remit of this discussion. However, two scenarios present themselves. Either, under the influence of the rest of Europe, France would have returned to a monarchy-led government and once again would have continued down the course that we already know from history, or else the young Napoleon III would have taken to the throne, probably starting a civil war in the process. If Napoleon III were to survive such a period of unrest in France, he could have reigned for nearly fifty years, never having the opportunity to learn from his uncle that the best direction for Europe was towards peace…

Did you enjoy this article? If so, tell the world! Tweet about it, like it or share it by clicking on one of the buttons below!

You can also read Nick’s previous articles on what if D-Day did not happen in 1944 here, what if Hitler had been assassinated in July 1944 here, and what if the Nazis had not invaded Crete in World War Two here.

Sources

• Blucher: Scourge of Napoleon - Michael V. Leggiere (2014)
• If Napoleon had won the Batter of Waterloo - G. Macaulay Trevelyan (1907)
• Napoleon: The Last Phase - Lord Rosebery (1900)
• Napoleon Wins at Waterloo - Caleb Carr (1999)
• The Face of Battle: A Study of Agincourt, Waterloo and the Somme - John Keegan (2004)
• Trafalgar and Waterloo: The Two Most Important Battles of the Napoleonic Wars - Charles River Editors (2014)

The Roots of the American Red Cross

Clara Barton was a pioneer of the nineteenth century. But who was this amazing lady? Well, she played a key role to wounded soldiers in the US Civil War and was instrumental in the formation of the American Red Cross. C.A. Newberry explains.

Clara Barton, circa 1897. By Charles E. Smith.

Where would we be without the Red Cross today? Since the International establishment of the organization in 1864 it has been a consistent lifeline for people in need. Vital in aiding during disaster relief efforts, supporting military families, and providing essential health and safety training. Yet, how did this incredible organization begin?

Born on Christmas Day in the year 1821 in the town of Oxford, Massachusetts, Clara Harlowe Barton was the youngest of five children. As a young girl Clara was painfully shy. Nonetheless, her passion to serve others and help people started at an early age. When her brother David suffered an accident, she stayed home from school to tend to his needs, administering medications and even learning the art of “leeching” after the family doctor suggested it may help.

During her teenage years she was encouraged to pursue a career in teaching, potentially helping her to overcome her shyness. Years later she opened a free public school in New Jersey where anyone rich or poor could attend. During the mid 1850s, after a successful career, Clara made the move to Washington, D.C. It was here that she worked in the US Patent Office, granting permits for inventions.

Civil War

However, it was the US Civil War that proved to be a defining period of Clara’s life.  When war broke out in 1861, Clara, sensing an immediate need, swiftly volunteered. She tended to wounded soldiers and then began to bring supplies to the troops and the medical teams who were exhausted and over-worked.  At one point supplies were so scarce that they were trying to make bandages out of corn husks.

Clara did her best to organize supplies but also to gather volunteers. She led the training to prepare them so they could perform first-aid, carry water, and prepare food for the wounded. Barton continued with her quest to deliver supplies, utilizing some help funded through the army quartermaster in Washington, D.C., but many were purchased with donations that Clara was able to secure. However, if those choices were unavailable she would use her own funds, most of which were later refunded to her through Congress. Through all of this tireless and selfless volunteering, she earned the nickname, “The Angel of the Battlefield”.

After years of serving through the war, she followed up by embarking on a brutal travel schedule where she spoke to countless groups recalling her time in the field. Soon Clara became ill and was encouraged by her doctors to travel to Europe. The hope was that she would have a certain amount of anonymity while there, allowing her to rest and recuperate.

Meanwhile, in Europe, Henry Dunant, founder and creator of the global Red Cross network, had the idea that there should be international agreements to protect the sick and wounded during wartime. There should also be the formation of national societies to give aid voluntarily, but on a neutral basis. The first treaty to encompass Dunant’s ideas was negotiated in Geneva during 1864. It was then ratified by twelve different European nations. This treaty is known by several titles, including the Geneva Treaty, the Red Cross Treaty, and the Geneva Convention.

During her lecture tour and the vivid recreations of her war experiences, Barton had become incredibly well known, and was brought to the attention of Dunant. And during 1869, while in Geneva, Clara met both Dunant and another supporter Dr. Louis Appia. Being familiar with Clara’s work in the states they wanted to share the vision of the International Red Cross, hoping to gain Clara’s support and further encouraging her to get the United States on board.

Bring the Red Cross to the US

During Clara’s stay in Europe the Franco-Prussian War started.  She was asked to serve with the International Red Cross providing assistance and, after seeing the benefits, Clara was determined to return to the United States and establish the Red Cross at home. When Clara first approached President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1877 she was met with resistance, as he feared a possible “entangling alliance” with the other European nations. However, his successor, President James Garfield, saw the value in the program and was supportive. Sadly, before it could become official, President Garfield was assassinated.

Frustrated, Clara, with the help of friends and neighbors in New York, funded and established the first local society of the American Red Cross in 1881.  Just a short month later they had their first call to action. Responding to a disastrous forest fire in Michigan, they collected $300 for the victims.

Clara continued to seek government support and, after years of passionate pleas, the Geneva Treaty (the International Red Cross) was signed in the US in 1882. Within a few days the Senate was able to ratify it. Not surprisingly, Clara Barton was named president.

While the mission of the International and now American Red Cross were important, Clara truly believed that the assistance needed to be expanded beyond wartime needs.  She was also passionate about helping with disaster relief, peacetime emergencies and directing charitable support. So during its first twenty years the American Red Cross was largely devoted to disaster relief. Even though Henry Dunant had originally suggested that the Red Cross provide disaster relief, it hadn’t been widely embraced until Clara Barton advocated it. In fact, during the Third International Red Cross conference in 1884, the American Red Cross suggested an amendment to the original Geneva Treaty, asking for an expansion to include relief for victims of natural disasters. The resolution was passed and became known as the “American Amendment” to the Geneva Treaty of 1864.

Clara Barton served as president until 1904. After her retirement she continued with her philanthropy until she passed away in 1912, at the age of 91. She will be forever remembered as a pioneer, passionate about the Red Cross and one of the most celebrated figures of her time.

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References

• History’s Favorite Nurses, Maryville University, February 9 2015
• Founder, Clara Barton, The Red Cross, February 9 2015
• Clara Barton, The Civil War Trust, February 9 2015

History Books – Episode 7 – A War in the American Southwest

In episode 7 of our podcast series History Books, we look at how a great war broke out in the American south-west

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 The podcast is on a book called The Wrath of Cochise by David Mort.

The book is about the disputes that led the outbreak of the Apache Wars. The Apache Wars were a series of conflicts between the United States and a number of Apache nations fought in the American Southwest from the mid-nineteenth century until the 1880s.

And as we shall soon see, a key factor in their starting was that in February 1861, the twelve-year-old son of Arizona rancher John Ward was kidnapped by Apaches. Ward followed their trail and reported the incident to patrols at Fort Buchanan, blaming a band of Chiricahuas led by the infamous warrior Cochise.

The book then tells the story of how events dramatically escalated, leading to the death of many and the destruction of parts of the states of Arizona and New Mexico. As well as the devastation of a way of life.

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If you enjoy the podcast, you can purchase the book here: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Take care,

George Levrier-Jones

email: info@itshistorypodcasts.com

web: www.itshistorypodcasts.com

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History Books – Episode 6 – A Crime in Victorian London

In episode 6 of our podcast series History Books, we look at a terrible crime in 1850s London.

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 The podcast is on a book called The Secret Life of Celestina Sommer – Victorian Child Killer by David J. Vaughan.

Celestina Sommer had a tragic upbringing. Pregnant at seventeen, with no support and little more compassion, she relinquished her infant to the baby-farmers. Eleven years on and married, she endured not only vilification but domestic abuse - the man she trusted turning on her with misogynistic cruelty endorsed by a society turning its blind, masculine eye.

The book tells the story about the awful truth of Celestina’s short, tragic life and reveals exactly why she avoided the hangman's noose. Her heart-rending story follows the world's reaction to her crime: parliamentary debates, press outrage, allegations of royal collusion, garishly explicit reports of her trials at the Old Bailey and, finally, her collapse into madness as she struggles through a harsh Victorian penal system and, at the very end, Britain's foremost criminal lunatic asylum of the age.

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If you enjoy the podcast, you can purchase the book here: Amazon US | Amazon UK

Take care,

George Levrier-Jones

PS – just to inform you, this podcast is of a darker nature than many of our other podcasts.

email: info@itshistorypodcasts.com

web: www.itshistorypodcasts.com

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Biography as not quite Destiny - The William Henry Harrison Story

William Henry Harrison has the shortest presidency on record.  The oldest elected president at the time, he died after one month in office.  But was he an unlikely president or destined for the greatest office? Here, William Bodkin explains the story of this fascinating president…

A William Henry Harrison campaign poster.

Part Andrew Jackson and part Martin Van Buren, William Henry Harrison was a successful general who had lusted after higher office for decades, only to have death take him from his greatest achievement.  For the United States, it may have been fortunate.  Harrison’s pre-presidential career showed that while he may have had Jackson’s military talent, he lacked Van Buren’s political talent. Harrison fell upward into the presidency, almost by accident.

Harrison was the first “Dark Horse” candidate for president.  His 1836 candidacy seemed to come from nowhere.  In fact, the opposite is true.  Harrison’s father, Benjamin, signed the Declaration of Independence and served three terms as Governor of Virginia.  The Harrisons were close to the Washingtons.  For his career in the army, Harrison used his Washington connection to secure an officer’s commission.  Harrison was sent to Fort Washington in the Northwest Territory and showed real ability as a fighter against Native Americans.  He was given command of the Fort and steadily promoted by a succession of presidents: Adams, Jefferson and Madison.  As his administrative duties increased, Harrison continued leading men into battle, mostly against the Indian leader Tecumseh.  Tecumseh sought to rally the Middle West’s native tribes into a force that would resist Americans.  One such battle, in November 1811 at the confluence of the Tippecanoe and Wabash rivers in Indiana, was against Tecumseh’s brother.  When Harrison’s forces won, Harrison proclaimed “The Battle of Tippecanoe” a great victory.  It was, at first, little noted. But by December 1811, newspapers were reporting the story along with accusations by Andrew Jackson that the British were stirring up the tribes to rebel against the America.  As the controversy raged, Tippecanoe became the powder keg that eventually ignited the War of 1812.

Harrison and the War of 1812

The War of 1812 gave Harrison his greatest pre-presidential fame. Harrison led the army that recaptured Detroit and then hotly pursued the Native Americans, led by Tecumseh, and the British into Canada.  In the Battle of Thames River, Harrison’s forces, aided by a corps of Kentucky marksman, bested the tribes and killed Tecumseh.  Harrison then retired from the army and went on a victory tour to New York City, Philadelphia, and Washington, D.C., soaking in the adulation of the crowds as the great general who killed Tecumseh. 

Upon his return to Ohio, Harrison became a professional office-seeker.  He ran and won election to Congress, serving from 1817-1819.  As Congressman, he spent much of his time seeking more prestigious posts, trying and failing to become James Monroe’s Secretary of War and Ambassador to Russia.  After this term in Congress ended, he was elected to Ohio’s State Senate.  Harrison then tried and failed to become Governor of Ohio, and twice to become a Senator.  Finally, in 1824, he won election to the U.S. Senate from Ohio.  On his return to D.C., Harrison began lobbying immediately for a better position.  With the help of Henry Clay, Harrison was named John Quincy Adams’ Ambassador to Colombia, despite Adams’ discomfort with what he described as Harrison’s “rabid thirst for lucrative office.” But ambassador was no role for Harrison.  He embroiled himself in controversy by choosing sides in Colombia’s internal politics against the ruling government.  When Andrew Jackson won the presidency, Harrison was recalled.  He went back to Ohio, where he took a job as recorder of deeds in his home county just to make ends meet.

While Harrison was in Colombia, another man took on the role of the great slayer of Tecumseh.  Richard Mentor Johnson was a Congressman from Kentucky and a former member of the team of Kentucky marksman who had fought alongside Harrison’s men.  Johnson won election to Congress and became famous throughout the West by claiming that he had fired the bullet that killed Tecumseh.  Johnson’s supporters decided that if Andrew Jackson could catapult himself to the presidency on the strength of War of 1812 success, perhaps Johnson could too. 

The surprise president?

By 1834, a movement coalesced around Johnson, with engravings, pamphlets, songs, and a five-act play based on the Battle of the Thames.  Reenactments of the battle were staged around the country, with Johnson’s legend growing from expert marksman to mastermind of victory, usurping the role of one William Henry Harrison.  Harrison was invited to one of these celebrations and was so offended by the antics that he issued a firm public rebuke of Johnson.  The statement reminded many of the old General.  Many of his fellow Ohioans decided to push Harrison for the presidency in 1836.  One newspaper editor declared that the fact that Harrison’s name ended in “-on” was of great importance.  The nation had had Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and Jackson, why not Harrison?  It was just the right name.  No one was perhaps more surprised than Harrison himself, who had planned to retire.  But the Harrison boom was off and running.  Engravings of the battle of Tippecanoe were struck, reenactments were staged, and a big commemorative celebration was held on the battle site.  Harrison, hero of Tippecanoe and the general who beat Tecumseh became a candidate for president.

Martin Van Buren, never one to miss a political movement and running for the presidency himself, made Richard Mentor Johnson his vice-president.  Ultimately, in 1836, the Anti-Jackson, or, in this case, the anti-Van Buren votes were split among too many regional Whig party candidates.  Van Buren eked out the presidency, only to face a tumultuous four years and William Henry Harrison again in 1840.

Ignoring Harrison’s aristocratic Virginia roots, the Whigs adopted as their symbol a log cabin.  Harrison had briefly lived in one in Ohio, but quickly remodeled it into a more stately home.  The image had started as a joke.  One newspaper printed that Harrison would drop out of the presidential contest for a modest pension and a barrel of hard cider, so he could spend his days at home in his log cabin.  The Whigs by this point had learned a thing or two from observing Van Buren, and leveraged Harrison’s war hero status and this remark to give Harrison a rough hewn image, making him the Whig’s answer to Andrew Jackson.  The “Log Cabin and Hard Cider” campaign worked, helped by a weariness of the Democratic Party.  Harrison swept to the presidency.  For his inauguration, perhaps believing his own hype, Harrison marched in his inaugural parade on a wet, freezing day with neither hat, nor coat, nor gloves.  He also delivered what stands to this day as the longest inaugural address in presidential history at 8,445 words.  

A month later, Harrison was dead.

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William's previous pieces have been on George Washington (link here), John Adams (link here), Thomas Jefferson (link here), James Madison (link here), James Monroe (link here), John Quincy Adams (link here), Andrew Jackson (link here), and Martin Van Buren (link here).

References

Feller, Daniel.  “1836” Running for President, the Candidates and their images.  Arthur M. Schlesinger, Editor.  Simon and Schuster, 1994.

Wilentz, Sean. “1840”  ” Running for President, the Candidates and their images.  Arthur M. Schlesinger, Editor.  Simon and Schuster, 1994.

“William Henry Harrison” Miller Center of the University of Virginia (http://millercenter.org/president/harrison).

Charles Darwin’s Voyage of the Beagle – And what he discovered…

Charles Darwin’s remarkable travels aboard HMS Beagle opened his eyes to the concept of natural selection and paved the way towards a scientific and human revolution. In this article, Davide Previti explains the importance of the voyage and what happened when Darwin returned to Britain.

A photograph of Charles Darwin from 1881. By Herbert Rose Barraud.

In December 1831 Charles Darwin set off on the historic journey that would lead him to write The Origin of the Species. This was a book that would not only begin a scientific revolution but would also be responsible for changing our perception of humanity and of our position in the world.

As he experienced earthquakes and volcanoes he came to understand how the earth changes, he found the fossils of extinct mammals that would make him question the fixity of species, and he realized that both animals and humans must compete to survive.

A Chaos Of Delight

Darwin was offered the chance to join Robert Fitzroy, the Captain of the rebuilt brig HMS Beagle on a voyage to Tierra del Fuego at the tip of South America. Fitzroy feared the loneliness of command and invited Darwin to accompany him as the ship’s naturalist. Darwin brought weapons and books for the journey and the Beagle set sail from Plymouth in southern England with a crew of 73 on December 27, 1831.

The voyage was not an easy one as Darwin suffered from terrible seasickness; however the physical hardships he had to endure were offset by the incredible opportunities he was presented with to explore the world. As the ship’s naturalist, Darwin was able to leave the confines of the Beagle to pursue his own interests and as a result, over the course of the five-year voyage, he only spent 18 months aboard HMS Beagle.

In Brazil, Darwin witnessed slavery first hand and pondered how sustainable the system could be, noting in his diary:

“If the free blacks increase in numbers (as they must) and become discontented at not being equal to white men, the epoch of the general liberation would not be far distant.”[1]

It was also in Brazil that Darwin found the Rainforests that would leave his mind in ‘a chaos of delight.’ He spent months in Rio de Janeiro studying ‘gaily coloured’ flatworms and spiders. It was here that Darwin would find evidence against the beneficent design of nature when he witnessed parasitic wasps that would lay eggs inside live caterpillars, which would then be eaten alive by the grubs when they hatched.[2] Darwin also discovered fossils and the bones of huge, long extinct mammals, which raised questions about what could have caused these animals to die out.

On the final leg of the voyage Darwin completed his diary and completed 1,750 pages of notes. He packed up all his samples, the fossils, skins, bones and carcasses he had collected. This was the raw material he would use to formulate his theory of evolution.

Heresy and Corruption

The fossils Darwin had collected fuelled his speculations. In 1837 he became a convinced transmutationist (evolutionist) after his Beagle collections had been examined by expert British naturalists.[3] He had brought back the fossils of huge extinct armadillos, anteaters, and sloths that he hypothesized had been replaced by their own kind according to some unknown “law of succession of types.” These theories were considered, by Cambridge clerics as:

“bestial, if not blasphemous, heresy that would corrupt mankind and destroy the spiritual safeguards of the social order.”[4]

As a Unitarian, Darwin based his beliefs on reason and experience. He used such beliefs to frame his image of mankind’s place in nature, stating in his first evolutionary notebook:

“Animals whom we have made our slaves we do not like to consider our equals. Do not slave holders wish to make the black man other kind? Animals with affections, imitation, fear of death, pain, sorrow for the dead, respect.”

Darwin continued to question religion, especially Christianity. Identifying himself as agnostic, he would eventually stop believing in Christianity altogether and instead adopted natural selection as his deity.[5] For years Darwin filled his notebooks with ruminations and ideas. He considered extinction and noted his theory that life represented a branching tree rather than a ladder that humans sat at the top of.

At this time Darwin was not the only scientist that had theories of evolution. The difference between his notion and those of his peers was that Darwin put forward the unique idea of natural selection, a theory that explains how and why evolution happens.

It is said that Darwin first began to formulate the idea of natural selection when he saw how breeders could effectively change dogs and pigeons by identifying and accentuating certain traits through breeding. Equally, the population was expanding in Britain at the time, and in 1834 a poor law was amended. This played a role in separating men and women to stop them breeding.

Darwin realized that the increase in the population had lead to a lack of resources. And, with more mouths to feed there was less to go around. It occurred to Darwin this competition would ultimately weed out the unfit and it was when he applied this idea to nature that he had formulated the basis of a theory that would forever change the way we view life on earth.

Darwin took 20 years to publish The Origin of the Species, which would go into great detail to explain the theory of natural selection. He had seen so much on his voyage, he undoubtedly found it difficult to find the time to condense his experiences into proofs that would back-up his theory. He did however produce a 230-page abstract of his theory in 1842 and would expand that to a 300-page paper in the summer of 1844. Darwin revised his ideas over the course of those two decades and added to them as he came across new evidence and information.

An Intellectual and Conceptual Revolution

When he finally published The Origin of The Species with its explanation of natural selection, without reference to God, a higher power or a creator, it changed the way scientists looked at evolution. According to the eminent late evolutionary biologist Ernst Mayr, "Eliminating God from science made room for strictly scientific explanations of all natural phenomena; it gave rise to positivism; it produced a powerful intellectual and spiritual revolution, the effects of which have lasted to this day."[6]

More than just something that changed the world of science, the notion man, animals and plants were effectively descending from the same replicable cell is something that is very difficult to put into perspective even nowadays. Man, the ruler of the world, the smartest of creatures, the creator of art and music was not born superior from the outset, but equal. This thought was unbearable to many at the time and that is no surprise. The famous depictions of Darwin as a monkey that appeared on newspapers such as The London Sketch-book and in satirical magazines like La Petite Lune appear to us nowadays as testaments of fear and disbelief.

This moment in history is capital: man’s status amongst all things, was, once again, completely downsized. It is reminiscent of when Galileo told the world the Earth was not the center of the universe but only one of the many planets orbiting the larger sun. Man has always had an idea of itself as more important in the order of things and realizations that point to its smallness and insignificance always come as a shock.

The presence of God to explain the way the world and humanity came about is comforting -it elevates man to a higher level. In the book of Genesis God says: "Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over the cattle and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth."[7] How wonderful to think that man is equated to God and was born to rule the Earth and all the creatures on it. Darwin wipes all of this away and leaves us to face a cold reality: scientifically we are nothing more than a conglomeration of cells which just happened to evolve differently to other plants and creatures. How about that for a paradigm shift in perception?

Did you enjoy this article? If so, tell the world! Tweet about it, like it, or share it by clicking on one of the buttons below!

Finally, you can track all the stops and events of Darwin’s voyage of the Beagle in the infographic available here.

1. http://darwinbeagle.blogspot.co.uk/2007/07/3rd-july-1832-comments-on-slavery-in.html

2. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichneumonoidea

3. http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20665232

4. http://www.faithology.com/biographies/charles-darwin

5. http://www.faithology.com/biographies/charles-darwin

6. http://www.independent.co.uk/news/science/the-big-question-how-important-was-charles-darwin-and-what-is-his-legacy-today-1216258.html

7. The Parallel Bible (Peabody MA: Hendrickson Publishers, 2009), p. 2.

Charles Darwin as a monkey in The London Sketch-book (1874).

Charles Darwin depicted as a monkey on a tree in La Petite Lune (1878).

A more Adventurous Lawrence of Arabia? The life of General Robert Rollo Gillespie

Robert Gillespie was one of the legends of his age. During his life (1766-1814), the Northern Irishman fought in all manner of arenas and participated in some amazing events. He stared death in the face many times - and came out on top much more frequently than his enemies. Here, Frank Jastrzembski starts to tell us of Gillespie’s amazing life.

An 1814 print of Robert Rollo Gillespie.

Major General Robert Rollo Gillespie was a critical agent in helping to solidify the domain of the British crown in the West Indies, Java and India during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Brave, reckless, and aggressive, his tactics played a leading role in the success of a number of campaigns. He lived a charmed life, surviving a number of deadly encounters that made him legendary in the West Indies and India. Author Sir William Thorn embodied Gillespie when he wrote that his soul, “panted for the field of toil, and thirsted for the career of glory.”[1]

A man well known in his own time, he is nearly forgotten today. By the twentieth century, his legacy had slipped into obscurity. Author Eric Wakeman commented that, “It is a curious comment on the difference between the days of Sir Rollo and the present, that a man whose deeds and heroism read almost like a fairy tale should be almost unknown to the general public.”[2] Field Marshal Philip Chetwode remarked that Gillespie’s life, “far exceeds that of Lawrence in glamour and achievement. Yet Lawrence monopolized the headlines and front pages of the world, while Gillespie is almost unknown.”[3]

Early life

Gillespie was born on January 21, 1766, in the small town of Comber, Northern Ireland, into a prestigious family. His descendants journeyed with William the Conqueror to England in 1066, producing a long line of fighting ancestors. Gillespie’s father had every intention of sending his son to the University of Cambridge for an education in law; however, the young Gillespie had other plans. Displaying a lack of interest for the routine of a life dedicated to the practice of law, the strong-headed youth opted to pursue a career as a soldier. His father reluctantly allowed him to become a member of 6th Dragoon Guards in 1783, as a Cornet, unable to persuade his son from a life of hardship as a soldier. 

Gillespie showed an aptitude for attracting danger early in his army career. In 1787, he was asked to act as a second in a duel for a fellow officer by the name of Mackenzie, after an alcohol-fueled altercation with William Barrington. When the opponents met the next day, they fired and missed their shots, which should have satisfied their honor. Gillespie suggested a compromise, which angered Barrington, who insulted the honor of his regiment. In a fit or fury, Gillespie whipped out a handkerchief and challenged Barrington to hold the other corner and duel him at point-blank range.

The duel commenced as both Gillespie and Barrington fired simultaneously. Barrington’s shot carried away the hammer of Gillespie’s pistol, slightly wounding him. Gillespie’s shot hit Barrington directly in the heart, mortally wounding him. After the death of Barrington, he fled and hid in the countryside facing criminal charges, eventually turning himself in to face court-martial. An army tribunal ruled the murder of Barrington as ‘justifiable homicide’, and Gillespie was acquitted.[4]

In 1792, he was transferred as a lieutenant with the 20th Light Dragoons to the West Indies. Gillespie quickly developed an effigy of invincibility that impressed his superiors. In the British attack on the French garrison of Port-au-Prince in 1794, Gillespie and a companion volunteered to swim to the garrison in order to coerce the defenders to surrender. Stripping off his red tunic, Gillespie rolled up his sweat-soiled sleeves, clenched his sword between his teeth, and leapt into the ocean in an attempt to reach the garrison while under gunfire. When Gillespie and his comrade made it successfully to the shores of the fortress, they were immediately taken into custody. Placed under arrest, they were to be executed as spies. Fortunately, Gillespie noticed an insignia of Freemasonry dangling from General Santhonax’s neck. Gillespie, a fellow Freemason, managed to charm Santhonax enough to allow for his release.[5]

8 versus 1

Another incident that helped to solidify the Gillespie legend in the West Indies took place one night while he was at his quarters in St. Domingo. Gillespie was woken from his deep slumber by the desperate cries of a familiar voice. In his fancy nightgown and dragoon sword in hand, Gillespie came dashing down the stairs to a fearful scene. The cries came from his servant who was desperately wounded in the arm. Eight intruders had broken into his residence in the dark of night. The intruders had an eight to one advantage over Gillespie. When most men would have baulked at these hopeless odds, Gillespie did what he knew best.

With superhuman strength, Gillespie warded off the eight intruders. Fighting in a style similar to that of the Three Musketeers, he managed to kill six of the intruders and so caused the panicked flight of the other two. One of the fleeing intruders fired a pistol at Gillespie that severed his temporal artery. When a patrol finally arrived to the scene of disturbance, they stepped over six disfigured bodies and found the badly wounded Gillespie clinging to life in his bedroom. The desperately wounded Gillespie was granted leave to Britain, and met King George III who was rumored to have remarked, “Is this the little man that killed the brigands?” He soon returned to Jamaica to take command of the 20th Light Dragoons.[6]  

Gillespie had grown tired with his post in Jamaica after eleven years of service, rising to the rank of colonel. The daily routine of garrison duty left him eager for battle. He requested a transfer to the 19th Light Dragoons, stationed in India.

Most of the officers who chose to make the long journey from Britain to their new assignments in India did so by sea. Traversing this journey by land would entail a traveler to make the journey through the harsh and hostile landscape of the Middle East. Naturally, Gillespie chose to make the journey to his new post by land.

To India

When he arrived in Constantinople, he was invited to dine with a French officer resident in the city. Gillespie humbly declined the dinner invitation on the excuse that he sought to return to his quarters for the night. The officers would have parted ways uneventfully if the Frenchman had not proclaimed in a sarcastic tone, “I shall be glad to kill an Englishman.” Gillespie turned and locked eyes with the Frenchman and coolly replied, “As it is your wish to kill an Englishman, I am come to give you that satisfaction, by trying your skill upon me.” As both men were of a chivalrous upbringing, the combatants chose to duel with swords. This was a poor decision on the Frenchman’s part. Gillespie quickly wounded and disarmed the Frenchman, and as an act of generosity, spared him his life.[7]

After making his way across the hazardous desert of Syria and through Persia, he finally arrived at his post in India. He joined the 19th Dragoons at Arcot and took command as colonel, and it did not take long before Gillespie found action in the frontier of India.

A clash was brewing in India due to the poor judgment made by the British officers and officials in regard to their Indian, or sepoy, soldiers. The sepoys had been faithful and brave soldiers of the British crown, but relations had begun to deteriorate between the two. Indeed, relations went from poor to critical when the sepoys were ordered to dramatically alter their appearance and violate their religious customs by shaving their beards, removing religious marks on their foreheads, and replacing their turbans with British headwear. Sepoys who refused to give into these demands were court-martialed with threats of the loss of rank, dismissal, or even being flogged.

Mutiny

On July 10, 1806, in fear of becoming Christian converts, the sepoys of the 1st and 23rd Regiments of Native Infantry mutinied at Vellore, an old fortification. The mutineers slaughtered their own British officers and managed to kill and wound approximately 200 Europeans in total. Four companies of British infantrymen of the 69th Regiment, and a handful of women and children who escaped the surprise attack were pinned down in a few buildings located within the fortress walls. The closest relief force was the 19th Light Dragoons stationed in nearby Arcot. The night before the mutiny Gillespie was scheduled to dine with the commander of the Vellore garrison, Colonel Fancourt, an old friend from Jamaica. He planned to stay the night at Colonel Fancourt’s quarters, but fortunately for Gillespie, he unexpectedly canceled.

The next day, Gillespie received a message from a frantic officer of the munity as he was riding out to Vellore for breakfast.[8] Without delay, he turned around and headed back to Arcot. This excerpt of the poem Gillespie, by Sir Henry Newbolt, immortalizes the events:

He thundered back to Arcot gate,

He thundered up through Arcot town,

Before he thought a second thought

In the barrack yard he lighted down.

Trumpeter, sound for the Light Dragoons,

Sound to saddle and spur,' he said;

'He that is ready may ride with me,

And he that can may ride ahead.

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain,

Behind him went the troopers grim,

They rode as ride the Light Dragoons

But never a man could ride with him.

Their rowels ripped their horses' sides,

Their hearts were red with a deeper goad,

But ever alone before them all

Gillespie rode, Gillespie rode.

Alone he came to false Vellore,

The walls were lined, the gates were barred;

Alone he walked where the bullets bit,

And called above to the Sergeant's Guard.

'Sergeant, Sergeant, over the gate,

Where are your officers all?' he said;

Heavily came the Sergeant's voice,

'There are two living and forty dead.'

'A rope, a rope,' Gillespie cried:

They bound their belts to serve his need.

There was not a rebel behind the wall

But laid his barrel and drew his bead.

There was not a rebel among them all

But pulled his trigger and cursed his aim,

For lightly swung and rightly swung

Over the gate Gillespie came.

He dressed the line, he led the charge,

They swept the wall like a stream in spate,

And roaring over the roar they heard

The galloper guns that burst the gate.

Fierce and fain, fierce and fain,

The troopers rode the reeking flight:

The very stones remember still

The end of them that stab by night.

They've kept the tale a hundred years,

They'll keep the tale a hundred more:

Riding at dawn, riding alone,

Gillespie came to false Vellore.

The one hundred beaten mutineers were found hiding in the Vellore palace and placed, by Gillespie’s orders, against a wall and fired on by canister shot until every one of them was killed.[9] The brutality of this incident would foreshadow the violence of the 1857 Indian Rebellion.

Now, the story of Gillespie concludes here.

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Further Reading

• Kanchanmoy, Mojumdar. Anglo-Nepalese Relations in the Nineteenth Century. Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1973.

• Pemble, John. Britain's Gurkha War: The Invasion of Nepal, 1814-16. London: Frontline Books, 2009.

• Pemble, John. “Forgetting and Remembering Britain's Gurkha War.” Asian Affairs 40, no. 3 (2009): 361–376.

• Thorn, William. A Memoir of Major-General R. R. Gillespie. London: T. Edgerton, 1816.

• Thornton, Leslie Heber. Campaigners Grave & Gay: Studies of Four Soldiers of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1925.

• Wakeman, Eric. The Bravest Soldier, Sir Rollo Gillespie, 1766-1814, A Historical Military Sketch. London: William Blackwood and & Sons Ltd., 1937.

1. William Thorn, A Memoir of Major-General R. R. Gillespie (London: T. Edgerton, 1816), 8.

2. Eric Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, Sir Rollo Gillespie, 1766-1814, A Historical Military Sketch (London: William Blackwood and & Sons Ltd., 1937), xv.

3. Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, xvi.

4. Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, 16-20. Leslie Heber Thornton, Campaigners Grave & Gay: Studies of Four Soldiers of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1925), 98.

5. Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, 39-40. Charles Whitlock Moore, “Masonic Anecdote. The Late Major General Sir Robert Rollo Gillespie, K.C.B.” The Freemasons' Monthly Magazine IV (1845): 276.

6. Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, 58-59. Thorn, A Memoir of Major-General R. R. Gillespie, 39-40.

7. Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, 86-87.

8. Thornton, Campaigners Grave & Gay, 97.

9. Wakeman, The Bravest Soldier, 111.