History — Blog

I'm researching the East India Company for my latest book (The Marquess Who Loved Me, coming soon, I swear), and I'm stumbling across all sorts of fascinating anecdotes and snippets of travel letters. Consider this gem, from a biography of John Palmer of Calcutta. Before John Palmer became the wealthiest English merchant in Calcutta, he was a 15-year-old boy in the Navy. Here's a snippet from a letter he wrote to his mother after seeing action:

I was in the third action, which I assure you was remarkably severe, I was stationed on the quarter deck, which place was one continued scene of slaughter, not having less than ten men killed or wounded; I fortunately escaped unhurt. I say fortunately for I was of some service that day.

Way to make your mum feel better, John Palmer!

By the way, Palmer's rise to greatness was swift, but he had a penchant for fathering children (his wife, rumored to be an Anglo-Indian, was five months pregnant when they married and went on to have more than a dozen kids), a dangerous combo of innate generosity and bad character judgment, and an extreme willingness to take in houseguests (for example, a penniless orphan was sent to him from England, looking for a husband, and she lived with them at least four years with no success even in the sausage fest that was British society in Calcutta - there must be a story there). In 1830, his bad decisions and horde of mooching children caught up with him, and his downfall caused a Lehman Brothers-esque domino collapse of the Calcutta financial houses. If only he had been nicer to his mother...karma's a b*tch.

[source: THE RICHEST EAST INDIA MERCHANT: JOHN PALMER OF CALCUTTA, 1767-1836, by Anthony Webster. I checked my copy out from Stanford Library, but you can find it on Amazon here. It's probably not worth $80 unless you're hardcore into the East India Company, but if you can find it in a library, it makes for some interesting insight into the financial companies and private traders that operated despite the EIC's 'monopoly' even before 1813]

I haven't posted in ages, but it's Anzac Day in Australia and New Zealand (or rather, it was yesterday for them...it's already tomorrow there, if I'm not being too confusing). Anzac Day is April 25, and while I won't claim any sort of expertise on the history of Australia, New Zealand, or their armed forces, I did go through a slightly obsessive phase over World War I and World War II. And I visited Australia and New Zealand for four weeks in 1999, which was totally amazing. And whenever I go to Europe I meet awesome Australian travelers, who are always the most fun to hang out with in random situations. And I loooooove that "Down Under" song by Men At Work, which I probably shouldn't admit...

Anyway. Anzac Day. Anzac Day commemorates the veterans of all wars that Australia and New Zealand have fought in, but it initially started as a remembrance of the landing at Gallipoli in 1915, when Australians and New Zealanders (Anzacs), as part of the Allied forces, invaded that part of Turkey seeking to control the Dardanelles and the sea route to Istanbul, Russia and the Black Sea. The casualties on both sides were massive, ultimately resulting in a Turkish victory many months later. But even though Gallipoli was small in comparison to the brutal, dragging, disastrous trench warfare of the Western Front, it had a major impact on the development of the national identities of Australia, New Zealand, and Turkey, which at that point was part of the last gasp of the Ottoman Empire but eventually remade itself as a democratic, secular society.

You can read all about Anzac Day and Gallipoli on Wikipedia or any number of other resources on the web, but I'll leave you with two quotes:

I do not order you to fight, I order you to die. In the time which passes until we die, other troops and commanders can come forward and take our places. - Lt. Col. Mustafa Kemel's orders to the Ottoman 57th Infantry on the morning of the invasion, when the defenders had run out of ammo and only had bayonets left. All of the 57th either died or were wounded at Gallipoli, and Mustafa Kemel went on to become Ataturk and lead independent Turkey.

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Those heroes that shed their blood And lost their lives. You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies And the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side Here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, Who sent their sons from far away countries Wipe away your tears, Your sons are now lying in our bosom And are in peace After having lost their lives on this land they have Become our sons as well. - Dedication read by Ataturk (Mustafa Kemel) in 1934, during the first commemoration by Anzac veterans at Gallipoli.

The pictures are from the Australian War Memorial in London, and I took these when I visited in 2008. It's a really lovely setting - at Hyde Park Corner, opposite the southeast corner of Hyde Park (steps from Rotten Row), in the same little park as the Wellington Arch, and across Piccadilly Street from Apsley House (Wellington's home, which is now a great little museum).

And that's my bit of Anzac Day remembrance - not at all related to the Regency, but my love of history and deep, abiding empathy/sympathy/fascination/sadness for those who fought and died in both world wars sometimes trumps the Regency. I hope to blog more regularly, though, so look for more Regency ramblings soon!