Introduction: Ned Huthmacher fills us in on the Remember the Alamo reenactment!
This June, despite dodgy weather and supply problems that required a great deal of improvisation, hundreds of reenactors gathered to remember the Alamo amidst the green and pleasant surroundings of western England.
On any given night during the summer of 1969, if we are to believe Roger Ebert,  the stars of Sergei Bondarchuk’s Waterloo gathered in Rod Steiger’s suite to drink Johnnie Walker Red and tell dirty stories. The suite was the only one in the run down Bolshevik grey hotel in Uzhgorod Ukraine, that served as the cast accommodation. It consisted of two tiny rooms; “One to sleep in and one to breath in” said Christopher Plummer.  Steiger, Irish actor, Dan O’Herlihy (playing Marshal Ney) and Plummer often got together in the evenings before “Napoleon” departed to drink, joke and moan about the location. 
A morose Steiger, brooding over his recent divorce didn’t need much excuse to have a glass in his hand. Ebert remembered Steiger braced over a table one night in the hotel dining room, periodically drinking back measures of local wine to steady his nerves. His horse had been spooked by an areal explosion and bolted. Horses being spooked by explosions were a problem, and not just for the Russian cavalry. In a scene that didn’t make it past the editing room floor, Plummer and Terrence Alexander (playing Uxbridge) went on an unscheduled ride after the pyrotechnics went off at the wrong time .
“My family was destroyed by alcoholism,” Steiger cried dramatically. “I can’t let up!” Plummer and O’Herlihy laughed. “Joking, of course,” he said “Trying to bring my small measure of poetry into the world.”‘ 
The hallways of the hotel smelled of sweat and the dining room mixed this with the even more unpleasant tang of urine. When Christopher Plummer had arrived, after a horrendous train journey in a ramshackle carriage with no facilities save a hole in the floor, the most comforting meal that could be scrounged was a plate of chicken and a sad salad of poor tomatoes and cucumber. . He’d already been greeted by a welcome gift of caviar and a cordial welcome sent round by the director, which the messenger then asked him to pay for. To add insult to injury there was never anything to eat in the hotel except Borscht, which did nothing to improve Steiger’s mood. ‘”Borscht again!” Steiger said, stirring the thick rust coloured soup so the potatoes surfaced occasionally, like pale islands through the sour cream. “It’s the g******n stuff of life on this location. Borscht for lunch. Borscht for dinner. I’m afraid to come down for breakfast.”  He gazed morosely into the brownish red gloop and mused about his role and wether Napoleon would’ve cared a curse if Borscht had been on the menu every day. He pushed the bowl away from him and emptied his glass. Plummer tried to improve his mood with some artless but well meant flattery;
“It is the role, my dear sir, you were born for.”
“Don’t you read E.E. Cummings?” Replied Steiger “A World of made is not a world of born.”
“Then it is the role you were made for sir.”
Steiger didn’t argue further, “You can say that again.” 
Ukraine in 1969 was beautiful, scorching hot, and dirt poor. The actors were not allowed to fraternise with the locals who came to stare, nor to stray far from their lodgings. The hospital was a death trap, as were most of the rooms in the hotel. It was a rich agricultural area, but hungry because the bulk of their hard earned produce was the property of the state and by law sent to Moscow. The area was full of Soviet citizens that were either indifferent to, or hated Russia. In part the only reason Plummer’s wife was able to get to Uzhgorod was because the driver he had hired to transport them was a Hungarian with a Magyar’s disdain for the Russians, and stubbornly got them through checkpoint after checkpoint. Georgians, Transylvanians, Yugoslavians were also common nationalities to bump into and the area was volatile. Part of the reason the film was even possible was because of the buildup of Russian troops on the Czech border after the Warsaw Pact invasion in August 1968.
Sergei Bondarchuk didn’t understand Englishmen. Indeed his knowledge of English itself was scant at best. The first time he met Christopher Plummer, the Canadian actor was in makeup for his role as the Duke of Wellington. They were in Rome at the time and master makeup artist Alberto di Rossi was just informing Plummer his nose was more than big enough for the task of emulating “Old Nosey’s” famous beak, when the intimidating form of Bondarchuk strode in tailed by a stern group of what Plummer took to be KGB agents. He was a very Russian looking Russian. A large compact bear with frowning eyes and a pugnacious chin, after observing di Rossi’s work he voiced concern about the upper lip not being right. The Italian makeup artist had a sharp wit and asked if it wasn’t “stiff enough.” To his and Plummer’s surprise he responded in the affirmative and had to be informed that “Stiff upper lip” was an expression, not an ailment. After he had been made to understand, the taciturn Bondsrchuk turned on his heel and left without another word .
Rod Steiger said humorously that the director knew three phrases in English, “How are you?”, “I come back soon” and “Bonjour.”  For the scene where Wellington and Uxbridge mildly discuss his lost leg, he had something much more dramatic and emotional in mind, which would have seen a tearful Duke escorting his fallen comrade from the field. His feeling was that the reality was almost monstrous as Wellington seemed to be making fun of Uxbridge. He was talked around to sense, but Plummer distinctly thought the process had made “Bondars” wash his hands of the entire cold blooded, stiff lipped Anglo Saxon race. 
The long dark looks, the short sentences and the morose expressions from the Soviet director could well be explained by the sheer size of the undertaking at hand. Italian Producer Dino di Laurentiis had been trying to get Waterloo off the ground for 10 years. His production company wasn’t big enough to handle the monster alone, and no one else wanted the risk either. Russia was the only place such a logistically challenging movie could be made and Mosfilm stepped up to the plate . A giant budget made the Waterloo project one of the biggest movies in production, and a bigger responsibility, but Binderchuck was used to immense budgets. War and Peace had cost $100 Million. Even so, had it not been made in Russia, with the Red Army it would have cost three times that much. At the time it was said that Sergei Bondercuck commanded one of the biggest armies in the world. 15-16,000 Soviet troops had been mobilised to act as the various armies of 1815, including a full brigade of the Moscow Militia Cavalry, making the recreation three quarters the size of the real thing. Each man was played the princely sum of $1 a day for his trouble, a salary that seemed dazzling to them. In order to control his army Bonderchuk counted on a staff corps of Russian Generals, 3 of whom were military historians, who consulted on formations and tactics, General Kozakov, General Lushinsky, and General Oslikovsky, a former major, Anatoli Chemedurov was his assistant director.  What with these men, and his small troop of 4 interpreters the soft spoken, plainly dressed man, often mistaken for a Georgian farmer by curious visitors,  certainly seemed like a General himself.
It was obvious that despite the rubbish accommodation Mosfilm was ambitious in its outlook. For months the set director had been carefully manicuring a hitherto ordinary parcel of Ukrainian farmland near the Czech border into a facsimile of Mont St Jean Ridge, Belgium. He bulldozed two hills, deepened a valley, laid five miles of road and six miles of pipe to create mud. He sowed fields of rye and barley and recreated four historic buildings, it must stand as one of the most impressive set builds in history for sheer landscaping alone. To film the massive battle scenes, 100 foot towers had been constructed, a helicopter readied and an overhead railway built . The schedule was relentless but as usual at the mercy of delays, weather being one, and the importation of a giant telephoto lens from Italy, which kept the entire “army” hanging around doing nothing for a week while, rumour had it the Russians were making notes for a copy , which did nothing to ease tensions of army officers worried about overheads, or actors, stewing in their dump in Uzhgorod. Plummer and the rest of the cast, spent their time either drinking smuggled booze or socialising at dinner parties given by his wife, who had braved the Spartan living conditions to join him on set.
Roger Ebert had mused about the Soviets in drag; “If the Czechs did decide to rise up one day, would the Russians take time to change? Or hurry across the border in costume, Napoleon’s Old Guard against the students?” . On one morning the cast had driven out to the set, a couple of miles in a suspensionless van over bad roads, but driven (in Plummer’s case) by a excellent man they called Fred, to find it empty. Apparently there had been some emergency and the troops had been scrambled, uniforms and all to go to fight the enemy. 
The Russian infantry and cavalry were quartered in a massive encampment near the field. They had been taught close order drill, and 2,000 had been taught how to load and fire muskets and they were having quite a good time. Soon after breakfast they marched to the film set and were outfitted, fifteen minutes afterwards they were expected to be in position. The Russian technicians were happy too, and gorged themselves on the pasta and vino Bondarchuk flew in from Italy every other day for lunch . The Moscow Militia Cavalry, who Plummer identified as Cossacks and Tartars, undertook gruelling rehearsals for the massed charges, that were filmed from the tracks, aircraft and towers with the high powered Panavision lenses. 
These charges were awe inspiring to watch, but painful as well and not just because everyone was getting the feeling that their parts were becoming lost against the vast sea of extras. The Western, Yugoslavian and Russian stunt men could make their horses fall on command, but the cavalry mounts had no special training. Trip wires were used instead with fatal results. Watching one charge Plummer and the rest of the cast were horrified to see a horse rise from the ground with its neck bent at a ghastly angle. It pleading pitifully for help. Its rider heard the plaintive cries of distress, and unable to be restrained he sprinted to its side, ignoring all calls to get out of the shot. The animal was in dire pain, and whinnied piteously to its owner, who in no less internal anguish cast around desperately for a gun to end its ordeal. With none to hand, he took out a knife and with shockingly accurate precision cut the animal’s throat. When the cameras stopped rolling an eerie silence fell over the scene, penetrated only by the cries of the heartbroken soldier weeping over the body his dead friend. . Horses were to drop like flies during the 48 days of battle shooting, to the degree that when the prop department began to run out of fake carcasses and began to use the real thing. .
Whenever filmmakers and historians get together to create something, battles are fought over battles. During that summer in Ukraine, one of the men waiting in attendance on Bondarchuk was his British advisor. A colonel, who not only sported a monocle and moustache but habitually wore a kilt. His name was also unforgivably British; Willoughby Grey, whose great grandfather had actually charged with the 2nd Heavy Dragoons, Scots Greys at Waterloo. He is credited as playing Captain Ramsey of the RHA In the movie, and thus has one line and a brief appearance in the film. A generally affable fellow, who chummed around allot with the actors and was usually in on most of the big production calls. He was supposedly an expert on Wellington and the British army he commanded . It is due to Willoughby, (nicknamed “Willow” by the cast) and Plummer that all those witty lines got given to Wellington, and that he was allowed to show some of his repressed emotion.
Plummer, unhappy about the dry treatment the Duke was getting in the film, cornered Willow and said “You know practically every recorded statement the Duke ever made. Let’s put them in the script, even if they are out of context. The writers have all gone; let’s give him back some of his wit and style.” Of course Willow agreed, most of the lines in the film were indeed said at one time or another, although in different ways. Bondarchuk accepted these alterations with good grace, as he’d never liked the script much anyway, and tolerated everything from unauthorised script changes to Steiger’s on the spur ad-libs.
Wellington’s bearing was also helped by the fact that Plummer was given a wonderful old former police horse from Moscow called Stok, and was completely deaf after having going through so many gun battles. Willow spent days organising the scene were the French cavalry charge the squares, assisted by second unit and assistant director Major Chemedurov. On the day appointed 5 large squares of “British” infantry had been formed on one of the hills, but for some reason Bondarchuk refused to shoot it, snapping through an interpreter “It may be authentic, but it’s not cinema.”
Willow calmly argued that it would indeed be cinematic if he put his areal cameras to good use, but that just made the Russian dig his heels in. Plummer thought he was feeling threatened by someone who had done their homework. “But this is correct” the Colonel insisted “This is how it happened. I can’t change it. I won’t change it.” Silence from the Russian corner.
“There is really no point in my being here at all if you won’t listen to anything I say!” And he stormed off. Behind him trailed the Russian Generals who had all taken his side, together the soldier historians marched stiffly along the ranks of waiting cavalry, a picture of injured military dignity. The Generals were impressed by his stand, and invited Willow to their tent where they all promptly got pickled toasting him in vodka and discussing the battle, with Chemedurov serving as the interpreter. In the end Willow won his Waterloo and the areal shot of the squares remains the most admired part of the film. .
One by one the actors fulfilled their duties and got out of dodge. Plummer, Terrence Alexander, Willow and Jeffrey Wickham, appealing to Bondarchuk to let Michael Wilding finish his scenes first due to an encroaching illness. Jack Hawkins having soldiered through his scenes while recovering from an 1968 operation to restore his voice, (he’d had his Larynx removed due to cancer in 1966 and died in 1973), and packed up, much to the relief of the cast who worried about his exposure to all the smoke.
Living conditions had brightened up in Uzhgorod that September with the arrival of the Georgians. Sergo Zaquariadze, playing Blucher was a big star in the Soviet Union, he had the red carpet treatment and for the time they were there the hotel almost became liveable. He brought good company and copious amounts of red wine. Apparently he had more scenes than what most audiences remember, stills show the famous meeting at La Belle Alliance & Plummer remembered watching a dramatic scene where he is presented with Napoleons captured hat but, they didn’t make it. Or if they did the phantom director’s cut has never surfaced and is perhaps merely legend. When the Georgians left, things returned to drudgery and the remaining cast wondered when it would all be over. When it was finally his time to go, Plummer was glad to get away, but reflected later he’d not have missed the adventure of filming the battle of “Batty-Poo” for the world.
See you again for another adventure in Historyland. Josh.
Pirates are some of the most mythologised people in history, and perhaps we should be worried about that. In some alternative philosophy they might be considered the ultimate condemnation of the capitalist system. Profiteers out for self enrichment, constantly chasing enough treasure to retire on, and taking it from anyone they can dominate. And they have been enmeshed into popular culture for it.
They were made to be childhood hero’s, romantic figures of fiction who represent a perverse form of freedom to many. Those people who use the skull and crossbones as a sort of banner of their rebellious spirit and independence perhaps might not think piracy a desirable profession if they knew the reality.
A short life. A hard life. A cruel life. A life made up largley of boredom, punctuated by fear, it was also a mostly squalid existence, deeply unsanitary in most aspects and opposed to most standards of moral decency. Pirates were in a sense anarchists who were a living misery to those they enoucntered.
Over the last 20 years quite a few books have come out claiming to tell the real story. If you read them all you’ll probably begin to get the picture. Honestly I was quite surprised to find a new book, and I was curious what it’s angle was. In turns out that this is part History part historiography. Appearing sort of like a load of grapeshot, a scatter gun effect of information that offers the reader a selection of truth and tales.
I like this book. It’s a book that doesn’t take itself too seriously. If we are to be brutally honest a book not very different from other exposes about Pirates, and no disrespect to the author but David Cordingly’s “Beneath the Black flag” will give you a better idea of the reality of life with the Pirates in a single volume. Yet this book is not just running back over the same tired revelations about the famous Buccaneers. Indeed there are quite a few pirates you’ll not have heard of in here. This is a book that is about the popular perception of pirates.
The book is separated into many short sections, and in a way could be considered an authentic pirate lifestyle handbook. It covers famous and not so famous pirates, aspects of the culture, and all the usual things but it also includes lists of sea shanties, terminology, books, movies and everything you’ll need to impress your firends on talk like a pirate day.
Helen Hollick, a historical fiction writer from the UK has branched out into pirates after most famously to my mind writing about Saxons and 1066. She brings her colourful turn of phrase and writer’s verve to every chapter. And she credits Pirates of the Caribbean for lighting the spark. Indeed Jack Sparrow crops up so many times, with a wink and a nudge he might have a case for getting royalties.
All joking aside, this book covers some very interesting little known facets of pirate life, and will prove an amusing and perhaps useful read. The goal of which is to entertain as well as educate.
Hardcover: 304 pages
Publisher: Amberley Publishing (15 May 2017)
Gill Blanchard charts the life of an interesting 17th century figure, who’s career spanned the civil wars, the commonwealth and the Restoration. To gain a greater understanding of any period in history, biographies like this are invaluable. You will gain a greater insight to 17th century England by studying its people, as uounwill the politics and wars, because it was men like Lawson who took part in them.
Lawson, a perennially cash strapped, unshakeably pious, die hard Republican, of obscure origins emerged from the merchant service when he ran coal up and down the country, to play a somewhat obscure part in the civil war and on to become a rear admiral of the commonwealth and fought against the Dutch in the 1650s.
His life is an up and down voyage over a troubled sea. Where his values were constantly put to the test by friend and foe alike. He hurts most fully upon the stage during the restoration crisis that preceded the return of the monarchy. When the commonwealth was split over what was to be done after Cromwell’s totalitarianism had thrown the new republic on the rocks. Lawson who had already spent time in the tower after being implicated in a plot to kill the Lord protector, had faced down the army in a land and sea standoff which effectively ended when Monck took control, but it is probably even less appreciated that Lawson then played a vital part in the restoration of King Charles II.
Blanchard has painted an excellent portrait of a fascinating figure. A man who could stand as an excellent conduit to the great events and movements of this turbulent period. It’s unlikely for instance that a general reader will care to give their time to a study of non conformism in the 17th century, but through works like this the issue is brought to the surface, as is the curiously haphazard nature of 17th century English naval affairs, where soldiers became admirals, sorry “General’s at Sea”, and colliers could end up commanding fleets and the fates of nations.
In a way it is an ironic life. A republican who opposed monarchy, yet helped bring it back & then was mortally wounded fighting under the royal standard he had fought to pull down in the civil wars.
His death, as it happened, from a wound incurred by the shattering of his kneecap at the Battle of Lowestoft is actually a prime example of why surgeons would usually amputate any joint wound, and his demise was a direct consequence of efforts to remove bone fragments and the ball.
A comparison with Nelson is perhaps warranted. Indeed Lawson is somewhat singular amongst the more famous admirals of his day, in that he actually knew how to sail, and was a seaman, unlike General Monck or his sometime adversary Prince Rupert. Lawson was of the breed of Drake and Raleigh, and for his day he was a new kind of admiral, a man who new his business, and who came from obscure origins. He was the sort of man that the modern navy would be built upon.
Lawson Lies Still in the Thames is a splendid book with which to delve deeper into this topsy turvy era.
The world of interpretive history is sometimes confusing and mysterious, they tend to be the people who know all about Historyland. And this week hopefully we will get a little sneak peek into the effort and dedication that goes in to creating Historical impressions that spark our imaginations. A podcast called Helping History Happen with Allison Pettengill recently featured an interview with Historical Interpreter Kyle Jenks in an episode called “Creating High Quality Historical Interpretation” that… well I’ll let the guest fill in the details:
On 24 and 25 June at least 750 reenactors from all over the world will gather at Weston Park, Staffordshire to commemorate the Battle of the Alamo, historically fought on 6 March 1836 at San Antonio de Bexar, Texas.
When the subject of the pivotal battle of the Texian Revolution comes up, the lush green countryside of the west-country isn’t the first thing that springs to mind. The parkland of a stately home hardly conjures up visions of Spanish missions set on the wide prairie. Nor do people immediately associate Britain with the sort of enthusiasm for the subject that one might presume most Americans have.
Yet it turns out that there is as much enthusiasm for the legendary last stand on the “right” side of the Atlantic as there is on the “left”. Musician Phil Collins, a man born in Chiswick, London, freely admits to the Alamo being his obsession and as of 2014 owned one the largest private collections of Alamo memorabilia in the world.
“Alamo” Mo Jones, from Wales, was one of the principle founders of a website dedicated to the famous 1959 movie The Alamo, starring John Wayne, and since 2008 the accompanying discussion forum remains the only place on the internet principally oriented towards the history and popular culture surrounding the battle.
The influence of that movie should not be underestimated, it wasn’t an instant commercial success, but it proved a popular one and is calculated to leave an impression on a young mind. I was impressed with the VHS in the 90s so you can imagine what the big screen version must have done for the legacy of the siege.
We need not look very far therefore to find yet more cultural inspiration for the British wanting to play out this important moment in US history. Already Davy Crockett was an internationally recognised symbol of the old frontier thanks to Disney’s TV 1950’s series starring Fess Parker, and perhaps more importantly the naggingly catchy title song that a young Phil Collins performed at Butlins before he became famous.
By 1984, when the last Alamo reenactment was held in the U.K. Yes there have been others! Over 200 people dressed up, in what was then period accurate costume, and stormed a prefab fort, the one occurring this June will at the most conservative estimate have 4 times the manpower in the field.
So is Nostalgia the answer? It would be if all the participants were over 50. Although fond memories of childhood adventure heroes plays a part, the event is well timed. Firstly it comes only two years after the largest Waterloo reenactment in history. Over 6,000 people have been left with the taste of powder in their mouths, and access to a musket suitable for the Texas Revolution, about half of which wore a uniform in 2015 that with a little tampering can double as a Mexican one cutting costs in half.
Britain has a growing Napoleonic reenactment community, many of whom love the idea of such an original event despite not really knowing all about it. With so many participants the Alamo at Weston Park is set to be the biggest “horse and musket” reenactment in a hobby of which the large scale shows are dominated by the English Civil War.
Although when the project was announced in early 2016 some worried that everyone would want to be a Texian, it soon turned out that the Brits have no particular problem with playing the “bad guys”. By comparison it’s usually quite hard to muster a decent number of soldados to storm American Alamo’s. At some of this year’s Texas Revolution gatherings there was a distinct lack of Mexican opponents to fight. Yet it cannot be said that Americans are ignorant of the significance of the Alamo. Especially in the south it is one of the revered moments in the formation of the republic.
Why then is it so hard to muster even 50 people to reenact the Alamo in a country that hosts the largest reenactments in the world?
The answer is politics. And not just Republican and Democrat this goes beyond petty presidential elections. The reenactment scene in America is governed by several bodies, all of which construct events to their own rules and regulations, and won’t or can’t work with the others as a result.
The UK Alamo is being staged in honour of the 300th anniversary of the Grand Masonic Lodge of England, and the American Civil War Society of the UK was invited to form the core of each side. Although their Facebook page lists he group as the host, it is not an official ACWS run event.
Heading up the organisation of the event is Paul Barrass, who will be playing Santa Anna. Paul and his admin staff are firm in their resolution to keep this all about the history:
“All we ask is no politics or religion follow the safety rules and please leave your egos at the door”. Says Barrass, who confirms an “unprecedented level of cooperation in putting together this event”.
Author and longtime Alamo forum member Ned Huthmacher who is travelling from the US to be at Weston Park in June confirmed this opinion on the forum and Facebook: “One reason why there is so many reenactors being recruited into the Mexican army is they have no real connection-loyalty to the history of the battle, but just want to get in on a large scale reenactment. Also many of the recruits do/have already done Napoleonic reenactments.”
Ned is one of those generous souls who’s willing to share his enthusiasm and experience with anyone, and in the world of Internet forums, he and the old guard of the John Wayne the Alamo forum do the traditions of southern hospitality proud. When I asked why Britain and not America he replied that the most concise reason is “no infighting amongst all the different reenactor groups”. Terence Boniface wrote on Facebook “the organisers have selected the Alamo because no group reenacts that event here.”
And it has worked spectacularly so far, with a possible maximum turnout of 120 defenders and 1,000 Mexicans, some coming from as far afield as Inverness. Not too far from the original numbers at the battle in 1836 where on a cold Texas night in March 185-260 Texians (some of them Scots) were overrun and wiped out by 1,800 Mexican soldiers. It has been noted that this reenactment will be the biggest ever recreation of the battle outside of a movie production.
Strange as it may seem the events of 1836 have always had an interest value to the people of Britain. Coverage in the newspapers were reporting the fighting in Texas in the very year they were happening, with an understandable lag as the news crossed the Atlantic. Interest was resumed around the time of the Mexican American war, and it is well known that several Alamo defenders actually came from Britain. In the end we can only admit that Courage and sacrifice are International virtues that speak to us all, and that is why even Britain remembers the Alamo.
. I have no doubt that this recreation will inspire more interest in the story for new generations and offer a unique day out this summer.
If you’re interested in going or contacting the organisers, follow the links below.
My first sight of the Trireme Olympias was as I turned a page of an Osprey Book about the Greek and Persian Wars. Thrilling isn’t it? But if a picture can blow a fellow away, imagine what it must have been like to sail on her. If I’m honest I’ve never given much thought to who actually put Olympias through her paces. Luckily today’s guest post has been written by just such a man, who urged by an article written by journalist, essayist, historian and biographer Byron Rogers who is an “historian of the quirky and forgotten, of people and places other journalists don’t even know exist or ignore if they do”’embarked on an true adventure in a Historyland all his own, and shared by a select few. Olympias was built between 1985 and 1987 as an accurate replica of the ship that probably saved western civilisation. Designed by John F. Coates who consulted with many other learned people on the project, Olympias was built in Greece between 1985 and 1987. The information gathered during her many sea trials revolutionised the understanding of ancient seamanship and set a bar for all subsequent experimental archeologists. The author of the following story took part in the 1987 trials as one of “Happy few” who helped bring the Tireme back to life: Continue reading “A Memory of the Olympias or “THAT BLOODY BYRON ROGERS” by Nigel Hillpaul.”
What if Napoleon had escaped after Waterloo? Some people ask me.
“He’d have gone to America” I say. It’s an easy question to answer because the motives of the emperor at that time were still clear and his power of choice was still his own. Most people do not ask, what if Napoleon had escaped from St Helena. Continue reading “Book Review: Napoleon in America by Shannon Selin.”