Custer of the West: Hollywood fact or fiction?

January 23, 2016 / Mrs Dud / 2 Comments

CUSTER OF THE WEST starred Robert Shaw in the lead role in 1967 and was a vague representation of the facts of the ‘Battle’ of the Little Big Horn and Custer’s last stand. There was also a rather less factual Errol Flynn version in 1941 called They Died with Their Boots on. What the 1967 version sadly lacked, which the 1941 version seemed very proud of, was the tune ‘Gary Owen’ which was taken up by Custer as the 7th Cavalry’s march – to hear it Click here (need sound of course).

George Armstrong Custer was born in December 1839 in New Rumley, Ohio. He went to West Point in 1857 and graduated last in his class in 1861 just in time for the commencement of the American Civil War in April of that year. He performed courageously under the command of General George McClellan who saw to his promotion to acting captain but when McClellan was relieved of his command, Custer was reverted back to lieutenant. General Alfred Pleasonton took over from McClellan and under him came Custer’s introduction to the world of extravagant uniforms and political maneuvering, and the young lieutenant became his protégé and soon regained his rank of (full) captain. Custer distinguished himself by fearless and aggressive actions in some of the numerous cavalry engagements and he was rewarded (and so not by mistake as in the Errol Flynn film!) with promotion as the youngest brevet [1] brigadier of the volunteers at the age of 23.

Cadet George Custer at West Point, c 1859 – to be last in his class on graduation in 1861

Whilst on leave during the Civil war he married Elizabeth ‘Libbie’ Bacon in February 1864. Her father was Judge Daniel Bacon who, initially, had not approved of Custer as a match for his daughter as he (Custer) was the son of a blacksmith. Well, this all changed when Custer had become a hero of the Civil War ….. oh, and a brigadier general.

Brevet Brigadier General Custer, 1865

When the war ended, Custer was returned to his rank of captain but it was not long before he was commissioned a lieutenant colonel and assigned to the newly formed 7th Cavalry based at Fort Riley in Kansas where he joined the General Winifred Scott Hancock campaign against the Cheyenne ‘Indians’/Native Americans (see last post – I need to call them ‘Indians’ for context purposes). However after the Hancock campaign, Custer was court martialled for going absent without leave (AWOL) – he had become indifferent and frustrated with the campaign and abandoned his post to go and see his wife – and he was suspended from duty for one year. He returned to duty before the suspension had expired at the request of General Philip Sheridan who wanted Custer for the Indian campaign.

Libbie Custer (1842-1933)

Now the Indian campaign took a bit of a turn when gold was found in the Black Hills of Dakota. These hills were owned by the Lakota Sioux Indians headed by Chief Sitting Bull as a result of the Treaty of Fort Laramie in 1868. The government needed to control them because of the gold and the fact that 15,000 miners had moved into the Hills setting up towns such as Custer and Deadwood (remember that place from Wild Bill Hickok post August 23, 2014). So, in the autumn of 1875, the government offered Sitting Bull $6 million for the land but the sum was turned down. President Ulysses Grant then made two fateful decisions: (1) he would not stop miners flooding into the Black Hills; and (2) all Lakota and Cheyenne Indians must report to the reservations by January 1876 or be treated as hostiles (thus reneging on the Fort Laramie Treaty). The Indian tribes refused to comply.

Sitting Bull portrait

This seemed to be a great opportunity for more glory for Custer. By now he had been gambling and making bad business decisions and was in severe financial difficulties and needed a ‘way out’. A campaign against the Lakota Indians was a good option. Unfortunately he was called to Washington to give evidence at the Congressional Committee trying to discredit President Grant’s Administration’s handling of contracts with the Indian Agencies on the frontier. Custer managed to try and implicate the President’s brother, Orvil, which was a mistake. The President was furious and decided to keep Custer on the sidelines of the Indian war and ignored all requests from Custer to see him to apologise. Eventually, General Alfred Terry, who needed Custer, eventually got him re-instated. So, in 1876, he headed to the Back hills in search of redemption and glory.

President Ulysses S. Grant (1822-85)

By January 1876 the Lakota Indians under Sitting Bull had not moved to the reservation and General Terry had orders to force him and his followers to do so or destroy them in the process. The plan was a three pronged assault on the Indian village of Sitting Bull’s alliance of Lakota Sioux and Cheyenne around Yellowstone River and four of its close tributaries, the Bighorn, Rosebud, Tongue and Powder (see map below). Terry (and Custer), with 1200 men, would approach from the east from Fort Lincoln; Colonel Gibbon, with 440 men, from the west from Montana; and General Crook, with 1100 men, from the south from Wyoming. Terry and Custer left via separate routes to clear up any Indian stragglers. Apparently Terry had said to Custer that if he (Custer) got there before him to leave him some action. Custer allegedly replied, simply, “No” (but I have no source for that…). Custer was a ‘dog off the leash’.

Plan of assault on the Indian camp at Little Big Horn

On the 25th June 1876, Custer, indeed, arrived about a day before Terry. Crook had arrived first and camped by the Rosebud River only to be attacked by a large force of alliance Indians under Crazy Horse and only just managed to avoid total defeat and retreated south. He reported this disaster to General Sheridan but made no effort to notify Terry. Custer wanted glory for himself alone and, despite the tiredness of his soldiers who had been on the move all day, he insisted on going into action immediately. As a result he split his force into three battalions, one under himself, another under Major Marcus Reno and the other under Captain Frederick Benteen. Neither of these officers liked Custer and the feeling was mutual, particularly as Reno was an alcoholic. Benteen was sent south and west, to cut off any attempted escape by the Indians; Reno was sent to charge the southern end of the encampment; and Custer rode north, hidden to the east of the encampment by bluffs, planning to circle around and attack from the north. This split was to prove fatal.

Major Reno (1834-89)

Custer had 208 officers and men under his command (including his two brothers, Tom and Boston, his nephew, Henry ‘Autie’ Reed, and his brother-in-law, Lt Calhoun), with an additional 142 under Reno, just over 100 under Benteen, 50 soldiers with Captain McDougall’s rearguard, and 84 soldiers under 1st Lieutenant Edward Gustave Mathey with the pack train. The Lakota/Cheyenne coalition may have fielded over 1800 warriors (although reports on this number vary).

Capt. Benteen, c1865

Reno was the first to encounter resistance when he was attacked some 500 yards from the village. He was forced to retreat back up into the hills having lost a quarter of his battalion. Here he met up with Benteen who asked where Custer was. By this time Benteen had received a note from Custer to come quick (see below) but he did nothing. In fact he and Reno sat and talked for about one hour and a half. A Capt. Thomas Weir, a friend of Custer, was so frustrated with Reno and Benteen’s inaction, particularly as they could all hear gunfire in the distance, that he rode off to investigate. Benteen was shamed into following him.

Capt. Thomas Weir (1838-76)

In the meantime Custer had arrived on the hill north of the Indian camp and saw it for the first time and realised how mistaken he had been about the number of hostiles involved. He sent the above mentioned note to Benteen, “Benteen, come on. Big village. Come quick. Bring packs.” He then waved hist hat and shouted, “Hurrah boys, we’ve got them. We’ll finish them up and then home to our stations” (bearing in mind there were no survivors I’m not sure of the source of this alleged quote – although one source suggests that a couple of Custer’s Indian scouts were sent away before the final battle). What followed was a complete massacre of Custer’s force. The precise details of Custer’s fight are largely conjectural since none of his men (the five companies under his immediate command) survived the battle. The accounts of surviving Indians are conflicting and unclear. Custer, himself, died with bullet wounds to the chest and head. With him on the hill were both his brothers, his nephew and his brother-in-law as mentioned above). This was indeed Custer’s last stand on ‘Last Stand Hill’ (as it is known today) as depicted in both Hollywood films, but not the last stand of his whole force.

Custer’s note to Benteen

Archaeology

There has been an archaeological survey of the battlefield which has produced some interesting results, including around 5,000 artifacts. The finds consist mainly of spent cartridges. It is known that the soldiers used the 1873 Springfield breach-loading ‘trapdoor’ carbine (a point the 1967 film fails to accept as, in the last stand, its soldiers use repeating Henrys/Winchesters), so finds of cartridges belonging to this gun indicate positions of Custer’s soldiers. Any other rifle cartridges indicate the positions of the Indians. It was discovered that the Indians were using 47 different types of guns from muzzle-loading ‘antiques’ to the modern repeating Henry rifle (similar to the famous Winchester). From such finds it is believed that at least 800 Indians were armed with a rifle of some description. Henry rifles had been given to the Indians by the government to shoot buffalo – there’s irony for you!

Above and below: the 1873 Springfield single-shot breach-loading ‘trapdoor’ carbine

It was these rifles that gave an idea as to why Custer failed in his encounter – other than being hopelessly outnumbered that is. Simply he allowed the Indians to get too close. The Springfield carbine is great at a long distance skirmish as it has an accurate range of around 600-700 yards, whereas the Henry repeater has an effective range of only 200 yards. However, once close-in the advantage reverses. The Henry can fire 13 rounds in 30 seconds compared with only 4 rounds from the single-shot Springfield. It doesn’t take rocket science to work out who the odds are against at short range affrays.

The 1860 Henry repeating rifle

The distribution of the cartridges indicated that something like a third (or more) of Custer’s men had been separated from Custer and killed before being able to join him on ‘Last Stand Hill’ (where Custer was found), about a third were killed on the hill and a third (perhaps less) killed trying to escape down the hill to Deep Ravine near the river Bighorn.

On top of Last Stand Hill near where Custer fell (see his marker) looking to Deep Ravine in the distance

In the distance from Last Stand Hill can be seen more markers of those who fell trying to escape to the river through Deep Ravine

Footnote

[1] A brevet was a warrant giving a commissioned officer a higher rank title as a reward for gallantry or meritorious conduct, but without receiving the authority, precedence, or pay of real rank.

POSTSCRIPT

One year after the battle, Custer’s remains and those of many of his officers were recovered and sent back east for reinternment in more formal burials. Custer was buried again with full military honours at West Point Cemetery on October 10, 1877 – a great honour for someone who finished last in his graduation class! The battle site was designated a National Cemetery in 1876.

Major Reno was dismissed from the army in 1880 due to alcoholism and died 9 years later. Benteen lasted a little longer but was suspended from duty due to being drunk and disorderly. He retired in 1888 but his inactivity at Bighorn continually hung over him.

Sitting Bull did not take a direct military role in the Battle of the Little Bighorn; instead he acted as a spiritual chief. He escaped to Canada but later found himself working for Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show. He died in 1890 aged 58/59.

Sitting Bull (1831-90)

You can visit the site of the battle and it has a Visitors Centre (of course). But I did read a guide to the site which said, ‘Where ever you go, watch out for rattlesnakes!’

P.P.S. Finally, I always find these topics difficult because I love the Wild West and it’s ‘heroic’ characters. They are part of the ‘Great American Way’, However, the the more I read about Custer, the more I dislike him. Accepted, he was very courageous but that was part of his ego, arrogance and flamboyance – which got him the nickname ‘Lucky’ (he should never have lasted as long a she did with his crazy military antics). But that luck was to run out. I’m an avid supporter of the Native Americans and believe they were treated very badly by the US government and this leaves an imbalance with the ‘heroic romanticism’ of How the West Was Won. But that’s just my opinion.

Kit Carson in the Wild West

January 16, 2016January 16, 2016 / Mrs Dud / Leave a comment

I WAS RUMMAGING though some of my books the other day and came across my Kit Carson’s Cowboy Annual of 1958 which had somehow survived my childhood. This particular volume includes a couple of tales of Davy Crockett. Great ‘Boys Own Adventure’ stuff! Of course in those days I assumed these were real characters until one of my ‘friends’ ruined it all by telling me they were only heroic fellows of some writer’s vivid imagination. Bit like hearing Santa Claus is not …… no, I can’t say it. Well, just how wrong was my friend! But I think it took me several years to find out.

My 1958 Annual – Davy Crockett, Kit Carson, and friendly Native-American (I think he’s Chief Bear Paw from one of the the Davy Crockett yarns in the annual)

If you want more on Davy Crockett, see my Alamo post, August 16, 2014. As for Kit Carson, or to be more precise, Christopher ‘Kit’ Houston Carson, he was born in Madison County, Kentucky in December 1809. He began his working life as a saddler but that was not for him. He lasted two years at that and then, at the age of sixteen, he joined a group of traders bound for Santa Fe, New Mexico. He learnt (and interpreted) Spanish, worked at a variety of tasks including cook, wagon driver, and in a copper mine, before linking up with a fur trapping party heading for California. He spent a year trapping along the rivers of Arizona and southern California before returning to New Mexico, in 1831, to join the trapper, Thomas Fitzpatrick. With his band of men he headed for the Rocky Mountains. He spent ten years travelling around Western America learning of all the routes and passages through the territories.

Early photo of Kit Carson in beaver hat

During this period he came in contact with the Indians (I know we must call them Native Americans but I have to use the old phrase for context). Then in 1836, he married an Arapaho woman named Waanibe (Singing Grass), and had two children of which only one survived (Adeline). His wife also died in about 1841 giving birth to the second child. He married again, this time to a Cheyenne woman named Making-Out-Road (don’t ask), but it did not last. He then split the next eight years between his daughter who was being educated in St Louis (and staying with Carson’s sister) and trapping in Taos, New Mexico.

In case you didn’t know the whereabouts of New Mexico

In 1842 he met a traveller/explorer, John C. Frémont, in St Louis. Frémont was planning to survey a route to the west – to be known as the Oregon Trail – and Carson was to be his guide. Three expeditions took place between 1842 and 1845 and both Frémont and Carson had their reputations sealed – Frémont as an explorer and Carson as a frontiersman guide. The American public was fascinated by tales from the Wild West, of Indians and trail blazers, and of unsettled land ‘there for the taking’. In 1843 Carson married his third wife, a Mexican, Josefa Jaramillo. She was 14 years old and they were to have eight children (not sure where he found the time).

John C. Frémont Josefa and son

Both Frémont and Carson found themselves caught up in the Mexican War of 1846-48 when the Mexicans demanded that Americans leave California. Needless to say they refused and the Mexicans lost the war and California. Carson spent most of his time as a courier carrying messages/dispatches between command posts and to Washington. It was quite a dangerous task but Carson survived it.

Billy Williams as Kit Carson in 1950s TV series, Adventures of Kit Carson (no, I don’t remember it either)

It was around this time (1847) that the first ‘dime novel’ story about Carson’s adventures was produced. It was called An Adventure of Kit Carson: A Tale of the Sacramento. It was printed in Holden’s Dollar Magazine. Many followed. As with Wild Bill Hickok (see my post, August 23, 2014), Carson’s fame was boosted by these dime novels which bore no relation to his actual activities. Not that it mattered too much to Carson because he was illiterate so couldn’t read them anyway! Some of Carson’s actual accomplishments were made famous in Dr De Witt C. Peters’ book, The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson published in 1858. Exactly 100 years later my Kit Carson’s Annual was published!

One the the dime novels of Kit Carson

In 1849 Carson settled near Taos and became an agent in the Office of Indian Affairs trying to keep peace and to ensure fair treatment with the Native Americans. Quite often Carson did not see eye-to-eye with his Territorial Governor, David Meriwether, and they often fell-out over the treatment of the Native Americans. Although Carson was in favour of good treatment to them he did find himself fighting hostile tribes and this got him repudiation as an Indian-fighter (sorry, Native American-fighter just doesn’t sound right).

Kit Carson from De Witt C. Peters’ The Life and Adventures of Kit Carson (1858)

The Civil War broke out in 1861 (to 1865) and Carson was appointed lieutenant colonel commanding the First New Mexico Volunteers Regiment for the Union. He fought (on the losing side) against the Confederates at the Battle of Val Verde, but also found himself involved in successful campaigns against the Apache and Navajo Indian tribes between 1862 to 1864. In fact, he was very tired by this time (aged only 54) and did not want to fight the Indians and asked his commanding officer, Major James Carlton, if he could resign. Carlton said no and told Carson that he was to completely wipe out all the male adult Navajo Indians and capture all women and children. Carson did not often disobey orders but this was one time when he planned to do so. He had no intention of killing a whole tribe of male Indians (actually he couldn’t find them, but that’s not the point!). However, he destroyed their food supplies and crops forcing them to surrender to avoid starvation. There followed the ‘Long Walk of the Navajos’ to Bosque Redondo (a disastrous ‘reservation’ in its own right). It consisted of some 9,000 Indians and many died on route – the military figures differ greatly from those given by the Native Americans.

Handouts/09.21.06/email from David Steinberg/Kit Carson2/Kit Carson

Lt Col Kit Carson

Carson was then involved in a large battle against Comanches and Apaches at Adobe Walls, an abandoned trading post. The battle raged on but proved indecisive. In fact, Carson retreated to New Mexico. He remained in the army until 1867, retiring as a brigadier general. Then, in May 1868, eight days before the signing of the treaty allowing the Navajo Indians to return to their homeland, Carson died of an abdominal aortic aneurysm at the age of 58.

Last photo of Carson taken around March 1868, two months before his death

Travels in Crete 7: the Greek Epiphany

January 9, 2016January 9, 2016 / Mrs Dud / 5 Comments

I KNOW I SAID last week that it would be Kit Carson this week, but just back from Crete where I witnessed the Epiphany celebration in the village of Mochlos on Wednesday January 6th. The Epiphany is the twelth night after Christmas and marks the end of that festivity. This is why one of the old wives’ tales has it that it is bad luck to have Christmas decorations up after the twelfth night. Also Shakespeare’s play Twelfth Night was written to be performed as a Twelfth Night entertainment. The earliest known performance took place at Middle Temple Hall, one of the Inns of Court, on Candlemas night (festival celebrating Jesus being represented at the Temple), 2nd February 1602 (just thought I’d mention that in case you have read my post on Middle Temple – December 27, 2014).

Setting up the table on the small quay by the water (centre right) in Mochlos

The Twelfth Night/Epiphany also marks a visit to the baby Jesus by three Kings, or Wise Men, (Melchior, Caspar and Balthazar – representing Europe, Arabia and Africa respectively). The word ‘Epiphany’ comes from Greek and means to show, referring to Jesus being revealed to the world.

Getting ready to roll …..

The Baptism of Christ symbolizes the rebirth of man which is why, until the fourth century, Christians celebrated the New Year in with the Baptism of Christ on January 6. In Greece (and other Western Christian Churches) that day is the feast of the Epiphany, called the Theophany, and customs revolve around the Great Blessing of the Waters. It marks the end of the traditional ban on sailing as the heavy winter seas are cleansed of ‘mischief’. At this ceremony, a cross is thrown into the water, and (sometimes) the men dive into the sea to retrieve it for good luck.

The Priest blessing the Cross before throwing it into the water – no one dived in after it (well, he had tied a ribbon to it and so it was not going very far!!)

This year the day was sunny and hot (as can be seen from the photos) and a delightful experience. We were all given free raki and cake by the youngsters of the village after the blessing.

Blessing ends – time for free raki!

Just to show I was really there – and enjoying the sun after the blessing

Okay, next week Kit Carson

The Romans and the Space Shuttle

January 2, 2016January 2, 2016 / Mrs Dud / 4 Comments

WHAT HAVE THE ROMANS DONE FOR … the Space Shuttle? Well, does the statement, “We’ve always done it that way” ring any bells?

Back in the Victorian days in England, engineers built train tracks a standard 4 feet, 8.5 inches (143.5 centimetres) apart – called the gauge. They were simply following the pattern of the previous tramway tracks, which, in turn, were following the old wagon width spacing between wheels. Why? Because they were all using the same old tooling that had existed back in the days of wagon transportation.

Old British tram (on 4 ft 8.5 ins track)

English railway track – 4 feet, 8.5 inches (143.5 centimetres) apart

So why were these wagon measurement so odd? Well, wagons used that particular wheel spacing because it fitted already existing ruts in the roads and any other size could cause damage to the wagons and discomfort to any passengers .

Wagon chassis (4 ft 8.5 ins wheel track)

So where did those existing ruts come from, I hear you ask? Ancient Rome, I answer. The Romans built very good roads to assist the movement of their legions which used chariots and wagons. These roads were not limited to Rome but spread throughout the Empire, including Great Britain. Some of these road were still being used in Victorian England along with their Roman wheel ruts. And what was that wheel spacing of these ancient ruts? 4 feet, 8.5 inches, of course.

Roman chariot road tracks (4 ft 8.5 ins apart)

Now in the United States of America it was the English who designed the railways and they use their own ‘tried and tested’ system involving the 4 feet, 8.5 inch gauge of track. So the United States standard railroad track is also based on the original specifications for an Ancient Roman chariot.

And bureaucracies live forever. So the next time you are handed a specification and wonder what horse’s ass came up with it, you may be exactly right, because the Roman chariots were made just wide enough to accommodate the backsides of two horses – which happens to be 4 feet, 8.5 inches.

One half of the factor

What has this got to do with the Space Shuttle, you are wondering?

A Space Shuttle has two big solid rocket boosters (SRBs) attached to the sides of the main fuel tank. These SRBs are made in Utah, USA, and had to be transported by rail to the launch site in Florida. The railroad line runs through several tunnels in the mountains over this route and, of course, the SRBs had to fit through those tunnels. As the tunnels are only slightly wider than the railroad track, the SRBs have to be the size of the track, which is ….. as wide as two horses’ backsides.

SRBs ether side of the Space Shuttle main fuel tank

So, there you have it – part of one of the most advanced means of transport in the world today has a design factor based on Ancient Roman travel several hundred years ago and featuring a consideration of two horses’ backsides.

Next week: Kit Carson in the Wild West

Battle of Waterloo

December 5, 2015 / Mrs Dud / 1 Comment

ONE LAST anniversary before the year is out – this time the Battle of Waterloo which took place two hundred years ago on 18th June 1815. It seems to be a year of historical anniversaries.

1812-1814 saw the War of the Sixth Coalition between Napoleon and the allies which included Austria, Prussia, Sweden, Great Britain and a number of German states. In 1814, while Great Britain, Spain and Portugal invaded France across the Pyrenees, the Russians, Austrians and their allies invaded France across the Rhine and, after the Battle for Paris, entered into negotiations with members of the French government for the abdication of Napoleon Bonaparte. Nobody had anything against the French – this was a ‘personal thing’ against Bonaparte. It ended with the Treaty of Fontainebleau and the exile of Napoleon to Elba in April 1814.

Abdication of Napoleon at Fontainebleau

But not for long. Napoleon escaped from Elba in February 1815 and marched on Paris with the intention of claiming the throne from King Louis XVIII of France. Napoleon simply did not know when to quit.

The Seventh Coalition was established between allied countries with Great Britain, the Netherlands and Prussia in particular not wishing to see Napoleon back in power. Napoleon had decided that the best course of action for success was to move before the Coalition could fully mobilise. He met the coalition armies at Waterloo (in present day Belgium).

Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821) – never knew when to quit!

Napoleon’s troops of some 118,000 outnumbered the Coalition’s of about 70,000 (the figures vary depending on source). Not only that but the latter were inexperienced and ill-equipped. Also, two days before the battle Napoleon had routed a Prussian force under Gebhard Leberecht von Blücher. Things didn’t look good for the Coalition. But the allies were led by Field Marshall Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington, and he had other ideas. Fortunately for him Blücher had rallied his 30,000 (approx) Prussians and joined in the affray early in the evening and by 8.30 pm Napoleon was defeated (see link at the end for more information on the battle).

Duke of Wellington (1769-1852) – born just 3 months before Napoleon

Wellington was to describe the battle as ‘the nearest run thing you ever saw in your life.’ Around 44,000 men and 12,000 horses were killed or wounded (again these figures depend on source).

The famous image of Wellington at Waterloo

This battle brought the War of the Seventh Coalition to an end and became a defining moment in European history and the end of Napoleon’s reign as Emperor of France. Napoleon escaped to Paris but a month later surrendered on broad HMS Bellerophon on the 15th July 1815. He was sent to St Helena, and island off the west coast of Africa, where he died in May 1821.

'Scene in Plymouth sound in August 1815' oil on canvas by John James Chalon, 1816

HMS Bellerphon (John James Chalon, 1816)

For a detailed (and colourful) description of the Battle of Waterloo click here.

If you go down to the woods today ….

November 28, 2015 / Mrs Dud / 1 Comment

THE OTHER WEEKEND I was left alone for a night whilst Sarah went to see her mother in Hampshire. Well, I thought I was alone – then, after a glass of wine or two, I realised I was not alone at all. There were our teddy bears all keen to be spoken to.

We have two teddy bears in the conservatory, Horatio and Mortimer, and they guard the chairs from possession by our cat. Then there are three more teddy bears in the house – my bear who, believe it or not, is called Teddy and is as old as I am; and Sarah’s two teddy bears, one as old as her and one brought back from Hong Kong by her father returning from his Royal Naval duties in the mid-1960s. These three teddy bears live together in the lounge/study but I decided that they could come and join Horatio, Mortimer and myself in the conservatory that evening.

Horatio (admiral bear)

Mortimer (barrister bear)

Sarah’s ‘one-eyed’ white teddy (as old as her); my blue teddy (as old as me, complete with Brighton College school scarf); Sarah’s brown musical teddy (from Hong Kong)

There are one or two other smaller teddy bears around the house but they are a little shy and difficult to talk to, so we’ll leave them alone.

The name teddy bear comes from ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt, the President of the USA, 1901-1909. It came about when Roosevelt went on a hunting trip in Mississippi in 1902 to which he had been invited by the Governor of the State, Andrew H. Longino. After three days hunting most of the hunters had found a bear but Roosevelt had not. Then Roosevelt’s attendants, led by Holt Collier, captured an elderly black bear which had been chased by the dogs. Collier tied the bear to a tree and called for Roosevelt to come and shoot it.

Theodore ‘Teddy’ Roosevelt (1858-1919)

When Roosevelt arrived at the scene he declined to shoot the bear as that would have been unsportsmanlike. However, the bear was greatly distressed having been attacked by the dogs and so Roosevelt ordered it to be put down. The incident was ‘recorded’ in a cartoon by Clifford Berryman in The Washington Post on the 6th November 1902 – it shows a small black bear held by an attendant with Roosevelt turning away refusing to have anything to do with the situation. Later similar cartoons showed the bear even smaller and in much fear.

The cartoon in The Washington Post

A Brooklyn shopkeeper, Morris Michtom, saw the cartoon and created a small soft bear cub and put it in his shop window with a sign, ‘Teddy’s bear’. In fact, he had written to Roosevelt, sending him a bear, and the President had allowed him to use his name ‘Teddy’. The toy bears were a great success and Michtom set up the Idea Novelty and Toy Co selling them.

Early 1900s teddy bear in the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, Washington, manufactured by Benjamin Michtom, son of Morrris, and owned by Theodore Roosevelt’s grandson, Kermit Roosevelt (no comments on that name please you muppets)

Interestingly, about the same time, and unaware of Michtom and his creation, the German, Richard Steiff, nephew of Margarete Steiff whose company manufactured toy fabric animals (but not bears), hit on the idea of a bear. He exhibited a type ’55 PB’ at the Leipzig Toy Fair in March 1903 and Herman Berg, a buyer for George Borgfeldt, New York, ordered 3000 of them for the USA. Neither Michtom nor Steiff were aware of each others activities but soon the name ‘Teddy’ became linked to all such bears.

Replica of a Steiff 55 PB

Anyway, back to my teddy bears …….. Ah, I must go now as I see two gentlemen in white coats are knocking on my door.

The Curse of Cowdray House

November 21, 2015 / Mrs Dud / 1 Comment

THESE DAYS most people know Cowdray Park in Midhurst, West Sussex, for its polo (and golf course) and ochre-coloured estate buildings. But there is a magnificent ruin of a Tudor house also there – okay, you knew that as well. But did you know why it’s a ruin? The monk’s curse of course!

The original house, named Coudreye, was built between 1273 and 1284 by Sir John Bohun. It was acquired by Sir David Owen (Henry VII’s uncle) on the death of his wife, Mary Bohun, in 1496. He built the current Cowdray House in 1520. In 1529, Sir Owen’s son, Henry, sold the house to Sir William Fitzwilliam. It became the home of Sir Anthony Browne when he inherited it from Sir William, his half-brother, in 1543. It remained one of his principal residences until his death just five years later in 1548.

Cowdray House as it may have looked c1545

The house was then inherited by his son, also Sir Anthony Browne – later 1st Viscount Montague. Much the same time (following the Dissolution of the Monasteries of 1536-41), Sir Anthony is said to have expelled the monks from the nearby Priory at Easebourne. An embittered monk raged into Cowdray House where Sir Anthony was feasting and cursed his family line, shouting, “by fire and water, thy line shall come to an end and it shall perish out of this land” [1]. Harsh, bearing in mind it wasn’t Sir Anthony who had dissolved the monasteries ……

Sir Anthony Browne, 1st Viscount Montague, 1528-92 (portrait by Hans Eworth 1569)

Well, the curse rather fizzled out. That is until 200 years later in the 18th century. Cowdray House, under the ownership of the 8th Viscount Montague (George Browne), was destroyed by fire on the 24th September 1793, ironically, during restoration work. A few days later, the Viscount (unaware of the fire) drowned foolishly attempting to shoot the rapids at the falls of the Schauffhausen on the Rhine. The 9th Viscount died childless in 1797 and with that the peerage became extinct. There’s more. The 8th Viscount’s sister, Elizabeth, became heir to Cowdray and married William Stephen Poyntz and in the summer of 1815 their two sons were drowned in a boating accident off Bognor Regis in West Sussex. Cowdray House was never restored and remains a ruin today. Spooky or what?!

The House after the fire (above and below)

The Cowdray estate was sold ‘out of the family’ by Poyntz’s three daughters to the 6th Earl of Egremont in 1843. In 1908 the 8th Earl sold the estate (including the ruin) to Sir Weetman Dickinson Pearson, later (in 1917) 1st Viscount Cowdray.

Battle of the Solent (Mary Rose) painting

On the subject of the Mary Rose (as I was last week), Cowdray House was also famous for its painting of the Battle of the Solent when Henry VIII’s ship, Mary Rose, sunk (see also post, March 21). Well, I say ‘famous’ – it would have been if the painting still existed. Unfortunately it was destroyed in the 1793 fire. But fortunately a copy had been made eight years earlier.

The Cowdray ‘copy’ of the Battle of the Solent (6ft in length)

The original of this painting was probably painted between 1545 and 1548 for Sir Anthony Browne who was Master of the King’s Horse (he was the father of ‘the cursed’ Sir Anthony Browne, 1st Viscount Montague – see above). He is shown prominently in the centre of the image riding a white horse following just behind King Henry VIII who is also mounted (see just above the large English flag bottom middle – and see pic below). The picture was one of a set of five which adorned the walls of the dining hall at Cowdray House.

Henry VIII and Sir Anthony Browne (on white horse) from the Cowdray ‘copy’

The Society of Antiquities of London commissioned the Sherwin brothers to make a watercolour copy of the original wall painting of the Portsmouth scene and this was completed by 1775. Recording the image had been made at the suggestion of Sir Joseph Ayloffe (1708 – 1781) who read a paper to the Society about the wall paintings at Cowdray House in 1773. Thank goodness for Sir Joseph!

Footnote

[1] There is another version: Prior to his inheritance of Cowdray House, Sir Anthony Brown had received Battle Abbey in East Sussex (where the Battle of Hastings had allegedly taken place). A dispossessed monk from Battle Abbey is said to have cursed the family with those words.

Dan Snow on the Mary Rose

November 14, 2015November 16, 2015 / Mrs Dud / Leave a comment

I WAS LUCKY enough to have been able to attend a talk last month by Dan Snow on the Mary Rose at the Mary Rose Museum (it was open to Patrons and Friends of the Mary Rose and I was invited by a Patron – Sarah). Now I know I talked about the Tudor ship before this year (see post March 21) but that’s not the purpose of this post – not entirely anyway, but I don’t intend to repeat anything said in that previous post. One of the most interesting factors of Dan’s talk was his references to the history surrounding the ship rather than the actual ship itself.

Dan Snow (23rd Oct) – great talk on the Mary Rose and very at ease as a speaker

He reflected on the fact that the ship was the ‘missing link’ in the history of war at sea. Well, no longer ‘missing’ of course. In the ancient world war at sea was simply a matter of transporting soldiers on ships to the opposition, also featuring soldiers on ships. The two ships would then grapple together and the soldiers would board the other ship and fight hand-to hand. As time went on bows and arrows were a little more prominent as a form of ‘artillery’. It wasn’t until the 16th century that the idea of firing cannons at another ship became an interesting way of winning a battle. If the ship sunk or was immobilised its soldiers could not fight. Henry VIII came to this conclusion hence the Mary Rose was the first ship to carry large cannons for this purpose when she was built in 1510/11.

Ancient sea battles – soldiers awaiting to board an opponent’s ship for a ‘land’ battle

The problem was the weight of these cannons (or guns) which required much re-reinforcement to ship’s design and may have been a part-cause of the Mary Rose’s demise in 1545 – imbalance of weight following her re-fit and enlargement in 1536 (but the sinking was looked at in my previous post so we won’t go there again).

Heavy cannons of the Mary Rose

So the so-called ‘Battle of the Solent’ was a turning point of sea battles. I use the word ‘battle’ loosely as it was not much of a battle – in fact, had it not been for the sinking of the Mary Rose, it would have been quite forgettable. Anyway, sea battles afterwards were never the same again. Soldiers made way for cannons and sea warfare turned into a ‘slugging-it-out’ of heavy ironware. Trafalgar of course leaps to mind as a very obvious example. This really went on into the 20th century. The last heavyweight sea battle of ships at war was probably the Battle of Jutland in 1916 (I refer to it in advance of its anniversary next year). Although the Second World War had its share of sea fights (sinking of the Bismark, etc) but there were none as large as Jutland. Aircraft have taken over from soldiers and ships as battle-winners and some ships have become transportation for those aircraft – sort of full circle for ships usage in warfare.

Image of the Battle of Jutland

An interesting misconception that Dan raised was this idea that the United Kingdom had never been successfully invaded again since 1066. This was not at all true. We have been invaded several times since which is why our monarchs over the years have not always been English in origin – we have just not been invaded by a large sea force. This led onto another misconception that the English Channel had protected us from invasions. It was never the English Channel as such but the ships of our Navy.

British navy projecting our shores against the Spanish Armada in 1588

Questions at the end raised some intriguing issues. Dan was asked which, he thought, was our worst defeat at sea. Winston Churchill’s fiasco in the Dardanelles in 1915 immediately sprang to my mind but Dan’s far superior historical knowledge identified the Battle of Chesapeake (or Virginia Capes) in 1781 off Virginia. It was against the French and although the battle was tactically inconclusive it was strategically a major defeat for the British since it prevented the Royal Navy from reinforcing or evacuating the blockaded forces of Lieutenant General Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown Virginia. Dan observed that for success the French only needed a draw, the English needed a victory. It was a draw and resulted in Cornwallis’ surrender and a turning point, two years later, to the British recognition of the independent of the United States of America.

Battle of Chesapeake 1781

Another question was what Dan thought about the treatment of Nelson’s Lady Hamilton. His answer was a little evasive – he should have read my post last week! But that was followed with a conversation Dan would have most liked to have witnessed – the one between Nelson and Wellington (then Sir Arthur Wellesley but the youngest Major General in the British army) whilst they were waiting in an anti-chamber in the Colonial Office at Downing Street on the 12th September 1805 to see Lord Castlereagh . The details of the meeting are a little unclear (Nelson is said not to have recognised Wellesley and treated him with indifference before leaving the room, only to return a different man – having, perhaps, being told who Wellesley was) but there ensued a lengthy conversation between the two militarily geniuses, unfortunately unrecorded.

Tribute: Admiral Lord Nelson

Nelson and Wellington – interesting conversation between the two?

It was a fascinating talk from a fascinating character well-versed in historical knowledge throughout the Ages.

Thanks Dan – and the Mary Rose Trust – for a great talk

The Linnean Society

November 7, 2015 / Mrs Dud / Leave a comment

A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO I rambled on about Alfred Wallace and Charles Darwin and their work being read out by Charles Lyle and Joseph Hooker at the Linnean Society (click here if you want to read that paper). One of my readers asked about this Society, having never heard of it before. The Linnean Society of London is situated at Burlington House in Piccadilly. Burlington House is not so much a house, more of a large building surrounding a square that also incorporates such learned institutions as the Society of Antiquaries (founded 1707 – of which I’m a Fellow, but I’m sure I’ve told you that!), the Geological Society (founded 1807), the Royal Astronomical Society (1820), and the Royal Society of Chemistry (1841).

Burlington House c1874

The Linnean Society was founded in 1788 for the dissemination of taxonomy and natural history. It took its name from the Swedish naturalist, Carl von Linné (or, prior to his ennoblement, Carolus Linnaeus – which sometimes causes a misspelling of the Society as Linnaean). He laid the foundations for the modern biological naming scheme of binomial nomenclature (this is a formal system of naming species of living things by giving each a name composed of two parts – e.g. Homo sapiens). He is known as the father of modern taxonomy and is also considered one of the fathers of modern ecology.

Carl von Linné 1707-78 (by Alexander Roslin in 1775)

The Society’s purpose is to promote the study of all aspects of the biological sciences, with particular emphasis on evolution, taxonomy, biodiversity, and sustainability (defining behaviour). Its collections include some 14,000 plants, 158 fish, 1,564 shells, 3,198 insects, 1,600 books and 3,000 letters and documents. A former Fellow of the Society was, of course, Charles Darwin from 1854. Women were admitted into the Society after a ballot in December 1904. A Marian Farquharson had been the ‘women’s rights’ campaigner behind this but she was not admitted until 1908 (don’t ask) – and then she was too ill to sign the roll (there’s no justice).

The first admission of women Fellows to the Linnean Society of London in 1905

The Linnean Society founded and published several journals that are still in publication today: the Biological Journal of the Linnean Society, focusing on evolutionary biology of all organisms; the Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society, focusing on plant sciences; and the Zoological Journal of the Linnean Society, focusing on animal systematics and evolution.

So now you know.

For more on the Society click here

Battle of Agincourt

October 31, 2015January 2, 2016 / Mrs Dud / 4 Comments

ONCE UPON A TIME, 600 years ago, we had the Battle of Agincourt. Yes, another anniversary and this was on the 25th October 1415 to be exact (okay, sorry, I’m a week late, it was last Sunday). A great victory by the English under Henry V based on a change of tactics (sort of).

Henry V (1387-1422)

Henry’s army landed in France on the 13th August 1415. They were not, as someone suggested to me the other day, transported by his famous ship the Grace Dieu (whose remains are still beneath the River Hamble at Burseledon near Southampton) as she was launched in 1418, or by Henry’s other famous ship, the Holigost (whose remains have just recently been discovered some 50 yard from the Grace Dieu), as she was launched in November 1415.

‘Morning of the battle of Agincourt’ (John Gilbert, 19th century)

Early medieval battle tactics were simply a head-on charge of heavily armoured horseman followed by a gruesome and savage hand-to hand combat. Aka the chivalry and bravery of Knights in armour. Such Knights would also supply infantry to support their king’s cause in the oncoming furor. The coming of the Tudors and the use of the long bow was to change this. This is not to say Henry V invented this type of bow as it was used in England before him. The Assize of Arms of 1252 and Edward III’s declaration of 1363 encouraged ownership and early practice of the long bow as it was very difficult to use (requiring great strength/skill to pull). It was used to great effect at the Battle of Crécy in 1346 at the beginning of the Hundred Years’ War (which actually lasted 116 years, 1337-1453, but let’s not go there) and also at Poitiers in 1356.

English yew long bow (6ft 6in, 2m long; 105 lbf, 407 N draw force)

The long bow was, of course, so successful at Agincourt that it allowed a numerically inferior English (and Welsh) force of around 9,000 (which included 7,000 bowmen) to defeat a French force of around 12,000. There does not appear to be any reliable sources on causalities but it is understood the French losses were high whereas English losses were very low – one account suggests 450 English to 4,000 French. Included in the English fatalities was Edward of Norwich, the Duke of York.

Edward of Norwich, Duke of York (1373-1415)

Obviously the English were led by their king, Henry, but the French were not troubled by their monarch, Charles VI, as he suffered from a severe psychotic illnesses – that was his excuse anyway (we’ll call him ‘sick-note Charlie’). The French were therefore commanded by a Charles D’Albret. The battlefield was possibly the most significant factor in deciding the outcome. The land had been recently ploughed and was hemmed in by dense woodland. This favoured the English both because of its narrowness and the thick mud through which the French knights had to pass over making advancement very slow. It also meant that “the living fell on top of the dead, and others falling on top of the living were killed as well” (Gesta Henrici Quinti – anonymous contemporary account). In fact, the French were so tightly packed they could hardly use their swords (account by a French monk, St Denis).

Battle of Agincourt

Interestingly the French bowmen seemed to play very little part in the battle. They had been deployed behind the French troops. The French delayed the attack expecting more troops to join them. This gave the English archers time to set up their defensive stakes and by the time the French horsemen charged the English bowmen were ready for them. The French Knights could not outflank the bowmen because of the surrounding woodland, instead they headed into a ‘woodland’ of sharpened stakes embedded into the ground. Not a good option. These stakes caused much injury to the French horses who, in turn, panicked and unseated many of their riders into the mud to be left to the mercy of the English infantry. Once a heavily armoured knight was stuck in the mud he wasn’t going anywhere!

Mud of Agincourt (Donato Giancola 2007)

Retreating French horses and horseman ran over advancing French infantry, trampling or scattering them. It was chaos. When the English bowmen ran out of arrows they simple grabbed whatever weapon they had and attacked the French men-at arms. By this time armour had become more of a disadvantage – knights were hot and tired within these armoured suits and could “scarcely lift their weapons” (see St Denis above). They had great difficulty in defending themselves against the much more nimble and lightly armoured English bowmen.

According to one source, Henry, in rescuing his brother, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, received an axe blow to his helmeted head, knocking off a piece of his crown. So, clearly he was right in the thick of it, not like the French king, ‘sick-note Charlie’.

Henry rescuing his brother …..

The battle lasted some three hours.

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