Diamonds are forever and so are the stories attached to them. This is a book about a diamond, and the lengths people went to in order to possess it. In the end it is a story about possessiveness, belonging and ownership.
It is a human story, a chunk of rock, no matter how great in value cannot speak for itself. It’s character is very much formed by its owners, and the fact that these people wished to own it says something about them in turn.
As the centuries pass, and the diamond takes on yet more handed down significance, afforded by generations of ownership and individual lives, it has grown a life of its own, a life perhaps as faceted as its etched surface that envelopes the lives of those that would posses it. They must understand what it says about them to want it. After so much time, Koh I Noor has a voice and it comes from centuries of history.
The premise of this book, (well presented and richly illustrated) is to tell the real story of the world’s most infamous diamond. This as opposed to the potted history’s collected by the British after they gained possession of it after the 2nd Sikh War. This it succeeds in marvellously. The two authors go back into Indian Legend to explain the significance of such stones as the Koh I Noor, and then follow it right down to the present day controversy of who should possess it.
William Dalrymple tackles the immense job of tracking the stone from early Legends and down through it’s hectic early life as a Mughal, then Persian then Afghan and then Sikh trophy. This section takes up part 1 of the story and ends with the death of the Maharaja Ranjit Singh, Dalrymple does a stellar job of reducing down whole centuries into chapters, but inevitably perhaps more elbow room is required and the narrative ebbs and flows.
Anand takes up the baton of the story in part 2 which traces the path of the diamond from the hands of the dead Ranjit Singh 1st Sikh War to its loss to the British, its travel to Britain and recutting, and then to the modern day. This part of the book is maybe a touch better written but perhaps not as academically pleasing. The narrative flows easily and is vivid as it is informative. The diamond, and attendant movements and politics play a background role to the people who own it, the lives of its principle Indian owners are investigated thoroughly, (so much so that I must admit to forgetting at times what the book was about.)
Distance is lost somewhat in the second half of the book, but that’s because we suddenly go into closeup. First of all there is so much more documentation available for Anand to draw on, which helps her build her narrative up. However I could not help but feel a certain unease when it came to the passages about the battles of the Sikh Wars. Now I will just say that the battles and politics surrounding the diamond are central to this story and need to be included to understand why it is important.
Nevertheless I wondered if it was necessary to at all times mention the (undeniable) prowess of the Sikh Army and then observe that whenever they were defeated by the British it was only ever down to either treachery or (apparently) better British weapons. I always flinch slightly whenever I come across patterns like this.
I tried to decide wether or not this mattered to anyone else but myself, wether or not I was being too pedantic, too critical or unfair. Yet I could not escape from the resolution that the authors had chosen to include this information, and associated titbits, and therefore having done so perhaps would have done well to have attempted to reach a balance of perspectives. For instance I could have picked at a few minor things to do with the Duke of Wellington but I decided that if readers wanted to read about the Duke in full they’d read another book, but the fighting is directly associated with the story of the diamond whereas Wellington is incidental.
This I think brings us back to the way the book tends to delve into the biographies of the main owners, and sometimes strays from actually discussing the subject at hand. Then when it does return to topic, using the Koh I Noor as a sort of connector to carry the story onwards, it is discussed in such a way, especially in the latter half of the book, as to suggest that everybody concerned had no other motive for doing anything than to gain possession of the diamond.
Sometimes this quirk can be seen in TV documentaries where a specific thesis is being presented, and where a single, secret, hitherto forgotten pivot becomes the reson-d’être of the entire story. I found therefore checks and balances to my enjoyment of the book, but on the whole I liked it, and it was a fascinating trip down a path less travelled, a joy to read. Then again nothing is perfect to everyone.
A book that shines in its ability to string together thousands of years of history, involving politics, war, personalities and rivalries into a fluid tale. In many ways parting the mists of myth that surround the diamond. A highly readable, exciting and poignant work, that cleverly tells the history of the diamond and at the same time using it as a vehicle to tell the history of India
It is a book that admittedly carries with it a few unanswered questions. In the end when the subject of ownership is raised we are left in the air. All we know is that some in India want it back, and some in Britain would see the act of giving it back as tantamount to admitting to a greater national guilt, perpetrated by earlier generations but nevertheless festering under the surface.
The book indirectly asks us to beg the question we return to the question, what does that say about those who want it back, and those who want to keep it? This stone that is now so heavy with the weight of history. There is no longer in either country an Empire for it to represent. Why defend what is no longer in existence? Why use Koh I Noor as a dagger of blame?
For all the controversy about ownership, right and wrong one of the most potent legends about the Mountain of Light is that it brings ill fortune to those who posses it. Koh I Noor is the original cursed stone. For centuries it has been fought over, and aptly, one owner was instantly identified as a conquerer for it can only be possessed by those who have vanquished another.
After reading this book I am tempted to say that yes, the stone must be cursed. When it became malevolent is impossible to say, but perhaps the curse isn’t what the stone does to people in terms of spells or incantations. But like all great treasures the curse lies in what people do to each other in order to possess it.
Paperback: 80 pages
Publisher: Osprey Publishing (27 July 2017)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1472818296
Conan Doyle wrote that no enemy of Britain had done her so much damage as the Boer’s with their ancient theology and their very modern rifles. This book gets to the heart of that statement.
This is a capsule of tactical thought. Proving that this Osprey series retains its core strength of highlighting fighting experience from ground level and how actual combat can drive change in doctrine.
The Boer Wars are fertile ground for this discussion, and Ian Knight is as usual a capable guide to South African military history. It will I think rest rather neatly alongside his previous title about the Zulu war, and the other combat about the fighting in east Africa between Askari forces in ww1 as a very useful and accessible study of colonial warfare in Africa.
One of the main selling points of any Osprey book is by detailed maps, unit breakdowns and examinations of weapons and tactics in a very specific area, and this book delivers on all points. Can one ever tire of seeing photos of flinty looking Boer’s and comparing them to the at first neat but increasingly capable looking British forces?
The pages are replete with fascinating images, in addition to Johnny Shumate’s full page spreads, and the added bonus of one of Woodville’s paintings deployed as a double page layout.
Knight utilises some key eyewitness sources to bring realism to bush warfare in the Boer War. All in all the British come off the worst, even with their attempts to match Boer mobility and firepower with their own mounted infantry tactics.
It seems almost like if the Boers had been able to match British industry and supply they would probably have won the second war. Not that winning the first one wasn’t a brilliant feat on its own. But although efforts were made to make the Victorian army more “irregular” it was not really troops in the open that turned the tide.
It was economics, it was constriction, and ultimately the power of a rich industrial nation versus a poor agrarian one. In the end Boer Commandants could raid as far into British territory as they liked, and it still wouldn’t change the writing on the wall.
It’s not even as if the army kept any of the lessons learned in South Africa past the actual fighting. By WW1 very little remained of the keys of dispersal, concealment and manoeuvre that had been present during the Boer War.
Though many would cite the excellent marksmanship of the BEF in 1914, learned so the enemy supposed, in many colonial campaigns it was lucky they did not encounter a Boer Commando who, though mythologised as crack shots, were indeed experts at practical marksmanship when opposed to a European foe, demonstrated here in the final action and Elands Neck.
Of note is the fact that the war in east Africa only swung in favour of the allies when some ex Boer commandants took over in the theatre. A sharp, highly enjoyable addition to the series by Ian Knight.
I do love military art. Part of the reason I am writing a history blog at all is because of the drama I saw in paintings. I have mentioned before that military painting is not as popular as it once was. Nevertheless it is not to be underestimated. Recently there has been an exhibition at the National Army Museum London of the work of battlefield artists. Commemorating combat and conflict in paint remains the most poignant homage to soldiering in my opinion.
No one since the Late Angus McBride has made gouache paint sing such an atmospheric song like Giuseppe Rava. Each painting is a story, one that can be read, something is always happening, even when people are not shooting or killing each other. The light and shade, and the effect it creates in Rava’s pieces evoke so strongly an element of the story that one might be able to in places hear what cannot be heard and smell what cannot be smelled.
Much like McBride, Rava’s strength lies in depictions of cold steel and forgotten civilisations, which he imbues with an immediacy and hot blooded warmth that would make one believe he had just seen the image he has created. The best military illustrators and artists can see a moving scene unfold and freeze it at the most dramatic or poignant moment. In this book, time and time again you will be able to see those moments, where time has suddenly been stopped and recreated.
The book, a neat, clean looking production, is light and easy to put on a shelf. There is a very generous and thoughtful introduction by author Gabriele Esposito, who has collaborated with Rava on several publications. I appreciated very much his comment about how military history without the art is a sad thing.
Format wise there is almost 200 paintings. About half are familiar to me from Rava’s work for Italeri and Hät miniatures. I adored that artwork as a kid, I was inspired by it, I copied it. I loved how scarred his shields were and I marvelled at his powers of perspective when rendering soldiers charging towards the viewer. His bravery with composition made me want to emulate those luging spears and rushing warriors with my pencils. They brought the action to life.
There is no explanatory text accompanying the plates. Only titles. To be extremely picky I think there should have been some sort of supporting explanations beside the art. In most of the other military art books I have, this is the way the paintings are presented, but although I prefer the relationship between word and visual, the lack of text doesn’t detract from the excellence of the illustrations.
The paintings are separated by era, starting with antiquity and going down into the mid 20th century. The selection highlights Rava’s versatility over a vast range of subject matter, from the ancient Egyptians to the world wars. Standout amongst the selection I feel are: The elevation of a Byzantine emperor; a model of quiet dignity and imperial grandeur. The battles of Ravenna and Ivry are favourites of mine, as are some of the Greco Persian subjects, I think the alternate view of the flag raising at Iwo Jima is good for its fresh perspective, also the novelty of the charge of the Italian Cavalry in 1917, plus I do rather like the painting of Wellington’s Staff in 1815.
A must for fans of historical art and illustration, especially, fans of Rava’s work and those enthusiasts who love a good action packed battle scene.
Where do I start? This is a headspinning book, filled with secrets that have yet to be revealed. It’s like reading one long cliffhanger with the sure knowledge the sequel that reveals what happens is going to be a long time coming.
First off we get a crash course on how to decipher codes, and indeed in doing so we learn how to create them. We are even given a cipher to break, the author suggesting that we may want to stop reading and have a go “attacking” a problem or two. Then we are into the thick of a mind bending puzzle about the efforts to crack the mysterious writing held in a medieval manuscript.
Along the way we get to know the nuts and bolts, jargon and some of the methods used by cryptographers, my favourite nugget is the oh so apt short hand for basic encoded messages or Monoalphabetic substitution cipher MASC. See? Easy memory hook because it’s just like Mask, it masks the intention!
Now after thoroughly grasping that, I proceeded onwards and got completely turned around when the maths came in. I continued in a mixture of comprehension and incomprehension until we got to the Ancient Ciphers where at least I knew which way was up.
With amazing thoroughness, wit and easy communication the author immerses the reader in the world of Cryptanalysis Remember these are unsolved problems, and so each chapter is highly tantalising as a series of brilliant minds each take a turn at tackling ciphers which in the end remain as enigmatic as their creators originally intended. They truly must rank as some of the best in history, just because they have resisted the efforts of centuries of scientific thought to the present day.
Although all the subjects tackled were equally fascinating in some way or another, I did identify most with the ancient ciphers. It was also very pleasing to see Adrienne Mayor’s Research play a part when it came to “nonsense” words, which I recalled being impressed with in her excellent book on Warrior Women. It is also an excellent surprise to see the Vikings mentioned here. No I wasn’t aware of medieval Norse codes, nor that Caesar used ciphers, or that the Greeks had coded signal systems, but I did know that the Vikings had strong links to the Eastern Roman Empire, which is probably why their ciphers so closely approximate Greek ones.
Did I understand everything I read? No. I’m not mathematical. Did I ever feel lost? Strangely no. The author is good at conveying complex ideas, which when they are not series of equations come across very clearly. There is an almost conversational tone to the book in the way Bauer playfully interacts with the reader, in a way it’s almost like he’s offering all the codebreakers out there the chance to collaborate, or at least take part in the debate.
Do not mistake me, this is a serious look at the facts and methods here. Authored by an expert in cryptanalysis who was a lecturer for the NSA. In short it might well be more than you bargained for, but if this book has taught me anything it is not to take anything at face value. Speaking as a mathematically challenged member of the reading public I nevertheless asset by the 3rd chapter, I was able to detect the presence of a cypher in the images shown of carved stones without looking at the text for explanation. No I didn’t try to crack it, I kept reading! But that proves that Unsolved has the power to educate.
Some of the ciphers here are obviously fresh meat for conspiracy theorists. Indeed some of the code breakers mentioned are highly unscientific in their theories. Yet it’s far from just a jumble of uninspiring theory, as it rarely takes a stance to suppose anything that is not in evidence. Indeed I might go so far as to say that this is a very inspiring book, and will likely engage an active mind more closely than you might think.
I must admit that when I picked up this volume, with its slightly mystic cover design, and immodest weight I at first thought that I wouldn’t like it but if a good mystery is your cup of tea then this is likely to be the most original and absorbing book you will read this year.
Some years ago a French mayor suggested changing the Gare du Nord to Fontenoy in a tit for tat response to Waterloo being the EU terminus. Most, even in France would probably frown and say “Fonte-What?” Chances are if you read Osprey Books you won’t be one of those people, and those who appreciate 18th century history will certainly not be ignorant of the most important battle of the War of the Austrian Succession.
Nevertheless public consciousness of what is perhaps the most conclusive French victory over British arms is not good. It is quite possible some know a general outline of the fight, but it really deserves a closer look. There is a sort of terrible grandeur to the simplicity of the fight. The dramatic theatricality that all stand up fights have. Also to commend it to the student of military history and strategy is the brilliance of the French commander’s generalship and his own heroic personality.
Fontenoy was the peak of Marshal de Saxe’s career. The campaign demonstrated his excellent strategic planning, and expert understanding of his enemy. Meanwhile the allies under the Duke of Cumberland showed themselves as dull and gullible puppets that played willingly into the hands of the French. The battle itself is almost like a European Gettysburg, in which one force believing too much in its own superiority flings itself against a determined foe and pays the price.
This, above even the stunning performance of the British infantry, is Saxe’s hour. And when we read the crisis of the fight it is hard not to cheer out-loud when the Marshal’s foresight pays off and he wins the field. Michael McNally should be praised for a crisp and stirring narrative through this title, demonstrating an excellent grasp of both sides strengths and weaknesses. Though the battle should probably be honestly described as a bit of a slogging match, the campaign itself was one that must stand alongside some of the finest feats of arms in terms of Saxe’s use of deception and foresight that forced his enemy to play to his tune.
Personally I had heard of Fontenoy as a boy when I was told that it was the first battle in which the Black Watch (then the 43rd highlanders) were engaged. From an allied point of view there was little to rejoice in, and it highlights the questionable reliability of allowing princes the supreme command of troops. The Duke of Cumberland perhaps might have made a decent tactical, brigade commander, but was lost in the big picture. Hence when it came to the limited field at Culloden the next year he was able to triumph, but Fontenoy shows us that he was a flawed commander when pitted against a soldier who knew his business.
The maps are very helpful in this book, and the full colour spreads are colourful and exciting. The best is the charge of the Irish brigade, and illustrates what the artist is best at, that being up close and personal scenes of combat. In my opinion he is not so suited to more sprawling scenes, the first 2 pager of the French position at Fontenoy quickly loses me, partly due to the impossibility of the flag in the foreground being spread out as if strings were attached to its corners, while all the other flags are hanging limp from their poles. The charge of the French Cavalry I like, at first I was a little sceptical of the composition in that the French are awfully close to the enemy for a cavalry charge. However look closely and you will see the pistol bearing cavaliers turning their mounts, whose reins and forelegs are rigid as they stall before the steady British line.
Fontenoy was a defining battle. One that should rank amongst the toughest fought of the 18th century, McNally has done the tale justice in this fine book.
In 1713, peace of Utrecht left Spain free to drive logwood cutters out of Campeche and into piracy in New Providence. The Peace also left almost 40,000 privateers (mostly Dutch and English) out of work, many in the West Indies. Facing economic depression and a life of hardship in the merchant service or the Royal Navy, many were eager to find an alternate way out. When the Spanish treasure fleet wrecked in a hurricane off the coast of Florida in 1715, the lure of easy money meant that many of these dangerous types went “a wrecking”, and easily slipped back into their predatory ways in doing so.
Read here for more information on how it all started. (https://adventuresinhistoryland.wordpress.com/2015/07/30/causes-of-the-golden-age-of-piracy-in-5-steps/ )
Like a virus the pirate fad spread across the Caribbean and up the North American seaboard. It took everyone by surprise, the British armed forces, as was typical at the end of a war were laying off men, Both the army and the navy were spread thin. In 1716, when pricey really kicked off there where only 13 ships in American waters (3 to be ordered home that year) of which only 8 were in the West Indies.
By comparison between 1716 and 1718 there are estimated to have been 1,500 to 2,000 Pirates active. 800-1,000 of these were active in Bahamas (double of the law abiding population). Nassau on New Providence Island was their main base, and they were working out of around 20 ships that ranged from frigate sized ships like Whydah, & Queen Anne’s Revenge, to the more common sloops which needless to say a frigate, was not equipped to chase. One of the most disconcerting things about the “Golden Age” was the size of ships pirates were now operating in. When he was killed in 1719 Howell Davis commanded a 32 gunner.
The problem now was association, webs of pirates were emanating generally from two main sources, namely two influential captains named Hornigold and Jennings, who were at the heart of the entire thing. What was worse was that the entire system perpetuated itself down a line a string of protégés recruiting fresh and promising lieutenants and almost training them and they repeat the process when they become captain. It has been asserted that a line can be traced through Hornigold and Jennings to almost every other pirate during the period, and that all track back in some way to the Bahamas.
It didn’t help that pirating was almost a culture amongst seamen in the Caribbean and that brutalised sailors of the merchant service trucking slaves from west Africa or sugar, cotton and tobacco from the Americas, looked on Buccaneers like Henry Avery and Henry Morgan as heroes. Therefore the authorities needed to concoct a plan. They lacked the manpower and material to actively hunt the Pirates, though pirate hunters would play a part in their strategy, so they played to their strengths. Reinforcements were moved into the troubled area. Frigates, unsuitable for chasing small ships, were positioned as guard ships over ports and strategic trade routes. A royal pardon was decreed to any pirate that would surrender and with leeway given for initiative on the whole this was a highly effective course of action.
Nevertheless a crime wave of this size was always going to be difficult to tackle. And by 1718 some thought that piracy was causing trade in the Americas to grind to a halt. Big time Pirates like, Davis, Bellamy, Blackbeard, and in 1719, Roberts were constructing pirate fleets. Blackbeard’s flotilla had evaded HMS Scarborough and even blockaded the port of Charleston, which he held to ransom and in 1720 Roberts would hang the governor of Martinique. Nature however had a hand in getting the ball rolling, and as the tide of the “Golden Age” reached its peak it ever so slightly began to recede.
On April 26 1717 Sam Bellamy and all but 9 of his crew were caught in a hurricane off Cape Cod and were drowned. Both his ships went to the bottom and 6 survivors were hanged for piracy in Boston. The coming of a Royal Pardon for all Pirates arrived in the Caribbean with a new Governor. Captain Woodes Rogers, himself something of a buccaneer, had been appointed governor of the Bahamas, which at that time was not so much a colony as a pirate Republic. He was a man the authorities knew they could trust to sterilise the islands of Pirates, and he came to the West Indies with full powers to restore order. In one hand he would hold the pardon, in the other a rope end.
Rogers approach was known in the Bahamas before his sails came in sight. And one Bahamian diehard named Charles Vane, wanted to defend his actions with powder and shot. When Rogers appeared at New Providence in July Vane sailed out of Nassau with a fire ship and his guns blazing. Yet though Vane and a few others were unrepentant the ringleaders, Hornigold and Jennings had seen the writing on the wall. In 1718 there were now 16 RN ships in American waters of which 7 were in Caribbean. Initially Captain Vincent Pierce of the HMS Phoenix took the signatures of 209 pirates willing to surrender at Nassau, and Jennings had personally convinced 150 to follow him to do the same though these may be part of the total.
Rogers would report that he had pardoned 300 pirates at New Providence, he also set some of them, like Hornigold, to track down their old colleagues.
The appearance of royal authority in this lawless colony seemed to have given some false hope because in May there were only 12 RN ships on the West Indian and American stations in total and only 5 in Caribbean, Rogers own ships would have brought that up to 7, however though many influential Pirates had given up at Providence, Blackbeard was prowling along the Atlantic seaboard of North America from a new base at Ocracoke Inlet, blockading Charleston and seizing ships as he went. The most notorious of America’s Pirates, a protege of Hornigold’s and a sometime colleague of Bellamy and Vane, however was crafty, he had taken the King’s pardon in September and placed himself beyond the reach of the law. However this had not lasted long and he was back at sea off Carolina by November, this infuriated Governor Spotswood of Virginia who, unable to raid into a neighbouring state, turned to the Royal Navy for help.
On 22 November 1718 two rented civilian sloops sailed into Ocracoke inlet on the coast of Carolina. Working with the tide they entered a sheltered lagoon. They were well manned and commanded by an experienced officer, eager for promotion. 35 year old Lieutenant Robert Maynard. His stealthy approach surprised the Pirates, who had been holed up in there for weeks. A desperate running battle ensued, and Blackbeard lashed the navy ships with cannon fire that they were unable to return as they had no guns. It ended with a savage 10 minute boarding action in which Blackbeard was set upon and decapitated, his head, worth £100 in Virginia, was hanged from the bowsprit of Maynard’s ship as it sailed home, not since Perseus had slain the gorgon had such a head been associated with such terror.
To some the death of Blackbeard and the resumption of war with Spain, might have seemed to suggest that the pirate menace was officially on the wane. In 1718 56 pirates which included the deeply unfortunate Stede Bonnet and men from Blackbeard’s ship, plus men pulled in by Hornigold were tried for piracy of which about 49 were executed. But it wasn’t over. Although no pirate would ever come close to inspiring such fear as Blackbeard, he was small time compared to the man who appeared off the Brazilian Coast in July of 1719. Newly elected after Howell Davis was killed at Principe, Bartholomew Roberts was a curious pirate. He was celibate, teetotal, fairly clean mouthed and liked to dress well. A Welshman of obscure background he had originally been a slaver but he had been seduced by the lure of piracy, with its free society and it’s quick rewards for little labour.
Beginning his career with the capture of no less a prize than a Portuguese treasure ship, he spent the next four years roving from the Caribbean to West Africa, snapping up a incredible tally of 470 prizes, and gathering the largest pirate fleet yet seen, powerful enough to attack convoys and indeed capable of engaging the navy. In this time other Pirates were caught. Charles Vane was finally brought in, and Jack Rackham, “Calico Jack”, who is really only famous for the two women Pirates that sailed with him, both men went to the scaffold. And though the greatest of the Pirates seemed untouchable he was feeling the walls closing in.
In 1720 there were 14 Royal Navy ships in American Waters 6 of which are in Caribbean. All were predominantly large vessels, the navy never had enough frigates and sloops, the numbers of Pirates active were in decline, due to the realisation that piracy was not paying and that the easy life of plunder and good times was illusory at best, for more and more rotting carcasses were to be seen hanging from the gibbets of major harbours, tagged with the sign “Pyrates ye be warned”. In 1722 it seemed to Roberts that the best course was to sail for West Africa, were the hunting was still good, he arrived to find that this was true, but that two navy ships were expected to arrive in a month or so.
One of them was HMS Swallow, 50 guns, commanded by Captain Chaloner Ogle. A fairly brilliant officer destined for a successful career, though eventually attaining a greater rank than Maynard would, he never attained the sort of fame as the man who killed Blackbeard. Ogle had heard that Roberts was about and had remained watchful since reaching the coast of Sierra Leone. This paid off on 5 February 1722 when he sighted the Pirate flotilla careening at Cape Lopez. Ogle knew his business and as soon as he came in sight veered sharply away to so as to give the impression Swallow was fleeing. One of Roberts’ ships obligingly gave chase, but found out too late that she was chasing a ship of the line. The ensuing fight was short and one sided, and with the odds evened up Ogle headed back for Cape Lopez.
Five days later Ogle found Roberts still at his former anchorage. In the time he’d been away the Pirates had captured a ship and were now mostly drunk. When Swallow came into view the Pirates thought it was their sister ship returning, but it soon proved otherwise. Roberts gathered his hungover crew and hoisted his sails. He planned to run the gauntlet of Swallow’s fire, give them a broadside and then strike out for open water. Both ships closed on each other, Roberts was conspicuous on deck shouting orders, guns were run out as they passed a terrific exchange of artillery shattered the silence of the sea. Fumbling on the pirate ship allowed the navy gunners to unleash a second crippling broadside before the Royal Fortune could sail away. When the smoke cleared Bartholomew Roberts was dead, and by the time Ogle’s men boarded the pirate ship, his body had been weighted down and thrown overboard.
Many point to this as the end of the golden age of piracy, and indeed it was only the small timers left, all of whom were either hunted down or disappeared into obscurity.
After Roberts’ death pirate numbers began to drop dramatically. The last and most vicious wave appeared in the wake of Roberts, yet there was only 1,000 active in 1723, when the infamous Edward Low, was captured at Cape Fear, which equates roughly to perhaps 10 ships, 500 in 1724, and between 1725-6 it has been estimated that less than 200 were active across the Americas. Between 1718 and 1723, there were 16 trials of pirates. Six of which dealt with men who were from, or were large names in pirate community. Of 304 tried, 210 were hanged.
Although the authorities were taken by surprise by the scale and virility of the great wave of piracy, they had formulated an effective response very quickly. By stationing well armed ships at key ports and trade routes, they forced the Pirates to move in more predictable ways and by utilising privateers, former Pirates and cutting out operations, headed by capable men like Maynard and Ogle, the navy started to make piracy a much less attractive pastime. Added to this was the lure of pardon, a carrot and stick plan came into effect deployed artfully by Rogers, and by 1718 the Pirates operating in American and West Indian waters had been reduced by perhaps 350-400, and numbers would continue to diminish by approximately 500 a year until eventually by 1730 the Golden Age of piracy had faded into gory legend. It would stay that way until the early 19th century when yet another depression and destabilisation, caused by the end of another Great War would trigger one last western upsurge of piracy but that’s another story.
First appeared on Britannia Magazine Facebook Page. 2016.
Sources.
Pirate: The Golden Age. Angus Konstam.
Pirates: 1660-1730. Angus Konstam.
The Pirate Ship 1660-1730. Angus Konstam.
Blackbeard: Angus Konstam.
Blackbeard’s Last Fight. Angus Konstam.
General History of Piracy: Captain Johnson.
Republic of Pirates: Colin Woodward.
Under the Black Flag: David Cordingly.
If a Pirate I Must Be: Richard Sanders.
Spanish Gold: David Cordingly.
On any given night during the summer of 1969, if we are to believe Roger Ebert, [1] 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. The suite consisted of two tiny rooms; “One to sleep in and one to breath in” said Christopher Plummer. [2] 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. [3]
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 [4].
“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.”‘ [5]
Christopher Plummer. Wikipedia.
The hallways of the hotel smelled of sweat and the dining room mixed this with the even more unpleasant tang of urine. Ogilvy suggested that the scent in the corridors emanated from the concierges who were all babushka type women who were stationed on every landing. 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. [6]. 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.” [7] 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.” [8]
Rod Steiger‘s performance, was described by one Italian crew-member in terms anyone will understand when they see the film. He framed his face with his hands and held them in front of his face and said ‘This is Rod Steiger‘s long shot.’ Then he ‘zoomed in’ on his eyes and said ‘This is Rod Steiger”s close up.’ O’Herlihy likewise had experience of Steiger’s ‘performance’ on and off the set. When discussing the scene where Ney confronts Napoleon on the march to Paris, a scene O’Herlihy had particularly liked and signed up to do, Steiger announced that he had done some work on it and the new scene was now genius. Upon outlining the genius, which he punctuated with announcements that O’Herlihy ‘would love it’ and that it was ‘brilliant’ he explained that the scene now had almost no dialogue and consisted of a great deal of screen time for Steiger and very little for O’Herlihy. ‘Me not saying anything is brilliant?’ Dan asked. ‘Absolutely! The silence you see? The tension! The drama! It’s brilliant!’ But O’Herlihy told Ogilvy that when it came to tension and drama, silence had very little to do with it.
Ian Ogilvy played De Lancey, Wellington’s QMG, or as Ogilvy put it, Christopher Plummer’s glorified echo. It being his chore to listen to some undertone direction from Plummer, turn in the saddle and bellow it to the waiting staff officers. Like Plummer’s wife, Ian’s spouse Diane had opted to go out to western Ukhrain with their newborn son and six year old daughter rather than live part for the shoot and it seems Plummer was not exaggerating about the trials of getting to the location. Most of the British principles left Rome for Hungary and then took the train from Budapest into the USSR. Jack Hawkins’ raucous Bon voyage party making it all the more difficult to reach the station on time. The train from Budapest smelled like a lavetory, the Windows didn’t open and the seats were little but wooden slats. With their children asleep in the overhead luggage nets, the Ogilvy’s hunkered down as the train rattled and bumped its way across the Hungarian plain.
In the rarely flattering dawn light the, hungover and exhausted movie-stars paraded, zombie-like, for Soviet customs at the border station at Chop. They were confronted by stern faced officials who treated them with egalitarian indifference. The British submitted wordlessly to a search of their luggage and the Soviet customs men did a thorough job of going through their belongings. This was no mean feat as the Ogilvy’s alone had baggage for two months. They were especially on the lookout for written materials that might contain anti communist propaganda, and they found it. Jack Hawkins had bought a playboy before setting out into the unknown. Ian Ogilvy had watched with amusement as an official scrutinising a colouring book belonging to one of his children was then suddenly drawn to the side of his comrade investigating Hawkin’s magazine. A gentle, lustful, trickle of officials soon began flowing towards the object of interest, much to the amusement of Hawkins. The Ogilvy’s used the distraction to pack up and quietly slip away. At length the vital piece of western capitalist printing was confiscated, and when Hawkins asked for it back he was met by a simple, stern ‘Nyet’.
When they got there, they found the hotel as uninviting as everyone else had. According to Ogilvy though it was the pride of Uzghurod. The rooms were small, with members of the cast and crew packed four to a room in the case of the Ogilvy’s. It was infested with cockroaches, and the bathing water was tepid, weak in flow and varied in colour. The food was inedible and Ogivly’s wife stalwartly made do with whatever she could scrounge to make do, a pearl of great prize being the obtainment of a saucepan. Meanwhile the compound like surroundings seemed to have awakened old instincts in former POW Rupert Davies who plays Gordon had escaped four times from Stalag Luft III, and now improvised a toaster from bits and pieces he had collected. One day he conveniently fell asleep with the bath running which drowned all his cockroaches.
Jack Hawkins was a silent and brooding fellow, unable to articulate except by asophagal breathing, he would wait until he had something pithy to say and then bang his fist on the nearest flat surface and gulp something out about the mendacious nature of their dismal surroundings. ‘Blaze of f*****g colour’ he would say, pointing to a single flowerin an empty bed, ‘can’t fool me’ he gulped once, pointing to a truck that passed by each day no matter what, ‘B****y thing is empty. Trying to convince me that somebody’s busy in this god forsaken place.’
Jack Hawkins. Wikipedia.
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 were they allowed to stray far from their lodgings. If you tried to leave the town, then a guard with a machine gun would turn you back with a Nyet. Nyet was a word everyone got used to, although one Yugoslav stuntman decided he’d had enough of it when a waiter denied him an egg with the monosybalic negative for which the stuntman threw the waiter bodily across the room. 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.
Dan O’Herlihy. Wikipedia.
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 [9].
Rod Steiger said humorously that the director knew three phrases in English, “How are you?”, “I come back soon” and “Bonjour.” [10] 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. [11]
Bondarchuck (L) and Orson Welles (R) who played a small part in Waterloo.
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 [12]. 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,[13] a former major, Anatoli Chemedurov was his assistant director.[14] [15] 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, [16] certainly seemed like a General himself.
Movie producer, Dino di Laurentiis. Wikipedia.
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 [17]. 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 [18], 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?” [19]. 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. [20]
Rod Steiger at the 40th academy awards. This win was not because of Waterloo. IMDB.
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 [21]. 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. [22]
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. [23]. 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. [24]. This was vividly recorded by Ian Ogilvy. The actors were trained on their horses to get used to loud noises before going on location, riding at various paces while a Russian cavalry office threw some manner of fireworks at their horses legs. However sometimes this was all for nought as Ogilvy remembered being given a fresh horse one day and being informed his former steed was dead, no explanation was given but it was pointed out to him sometime later, lying stuffed with straw as a prop. Animals were treated harshly on this movie, there was no animal welfare commission here, and if a horse died it died and no apart from the poor militiaman Ogilvy senses few tears were shed. But though quite callous in this respect the Yugoslav stuntmen would do all they could to save a horse if they could. Once Ogilvy saw a group of them stop working and rush to the aid of an exhausted animal drowning in the mud, lifting it free and then staying with it until it recovered and ignoring the calls from the Russian production team.
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 [25]. It is due to Willoughby, (nicknamed “Willow” by the cast) Hawkins and Plummer that all those witty lines got given to Wellington, and that he was allowed to show some of his repressed emotion. Plummer was unhappy about the dry treatment the Duke was getting in the film. It’s the biggest b****y performance I’ve ever seen!’ Christopher Plummer said after watching several hours of Steiger’s rushes ‘He rips down the curtains, he chews up the carpets, he bellows, he screams, he cries – and to top it all apparently Napoleon’s either got the most frightful indigestion, or the worst case of piles the world has ever seen! I can’t compete with that! What the hell am I to do when it’s my turn?’ He asked Hawkins plaintively one day. Hawkins banged on the table and cleared his throat, pumping oxygen into his asophagus in order to frame a few choice syllables. ‘Every time they – gulp – cut to Wellington -gulp – say something droll. Gulp. Audience will start -gulp – to look forward to -gulp – seeing funny Wellington after -gulp – five minutes of hammy old Napoleon.’ According to Ogilvy this sent Plummer to work finding every droll thing Wellington ever said. Plummer cornered Willow and told him: “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. [26].
Apparently the film was shot by nationality. First the French, then the British and then the Prussians with slight overlap. 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. That summer it was known that the moon landing was in the offing but the Russians weren’t exactly keen on advertising the achievement. O’Herily was still around and obviously wanted to see it and so bought an old TV set and installed it in his room where he tuned it to a Czhech station. Jack Hawkins put his long range radio into service and at 4.:56 am on 21 July the remaining Anglo American Brigade watched the event as it happened in Dan O’Herily’s room.
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. Ogilvie remembered his eight weeks in soviet controlled Ukraine as an arduous slog, and when the wheels of his BEA left the runway at Budapest the passengers all cheered. 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.
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