The War of 1812 between the United States and Great Britain was fought at sea and along the Canadian border. Allied with the British were many native tribes, resentful at American expansion into their traditional territories. A tribal confederacy under the Shawnee chief Tecumseh and his mystical brother known as The Prophet had consistently opposed yielding land to the Americans but had suffered a number of reversals.
In the autumn of 1813, the British and their native allies were being pushed back from positions below the Great Lakes. Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry had won the Battle of Lake Erie capturing an entire British squadron, which prompted the famous phrase, “we have met the enemy and he is ours” and ashore the future president William Henry Harrison was also successful. He recaptured Detroit and launched an invasion of Upper Canada. On this day Harrison’s forces met a British army under Henry Procter backed by hundreds of Tecumseh’s warrior in what is now southern Ontario. The British wilted under an American charge but Tecumseh’s forces stood their ground. In the fighting Tecumseh was shot and killed.
The battle itself was of little significance as the victorious Americans were obliged to withdraw but the death of Tecumseh was a catastrophe for the native cause. Their confederacy collapsed and hopes of a pan-native resistance died.
The longest-serving and probably greatest of the Ottoman emperors was Suleiman, known in the West as “the Magnificent” and to the Turks as “the Lawgiver”. Born in 1494 to Sultan Selim the Grim, he followed his father’s policy of aggressive expansion of his empire and Sunni Islam.
In 1521 Suleiman struck into Serbia and captured Belgrade. The next year he took the important fortress of Rhodes from which the Knights of St John had bedevilled Islamic shipping in the eastern Mediterranean. In 1526 he smashed the Hungarians at Mohács and killed their king, but in 1527 he received a setback in his war on Christian Europe — his forces were turned back after an unsuccessful siege of Vienna. Fortunes in the battle between the Ottoman Empire and the Habsburg Holy Roman Empire would ebb and flow for centuries.
Next to face Suleiman’s armies were the Persians, recently made subject to the Shi’ite Safavid dynasty. A series of wars for the next three decades would advance the Turkish realm deeper into western Asia.
At sea Ottoman navies battled the Portuguese in the Red Sea and Indian Ocean as far away as what is now Indonesia. In the Mediterranean Turkish fleets and their allies in the pirate states of North Africa had success against the ships of the Italian city states and Spain — a cynical alliance (is there any other kind?) with the French made that task easier.
In Turkey Suleiman was best known for codifying non-Sharia Islamic law and for sponsoring a flowering of arts and architecture. He himself was a poet of note.
Unlike previous Ottoman sultans, Suleiman married one of his concubines, a blonde Ukrainian beauty, daughter of an Orthodox priest, captured in a slaving raid and sold to the palace. Though their love affair was of epic proportions it did the empire no good. Under Roxelane’s influence, Suleiman killed two of his abler sons by other women in order to make her child, Selim, his heir. On his death in 1566 the apex of Ottoman grandeur had been reached, never again to be surpassed.
Lovers of excruciatingly bad poetry have long honoured the shade of Irish-born Scottish poet William McGonagall, a weaver turned compulsive rhymester who to his dying day fancied himself among the greatest of his calling.
And, indeed, poetry was a calling. In 1877, when McGonagall was unemployed and in his 50s, he had a vision: I seemed to feel as it were a strange kind of feeling stealing over me, and remained so for about five minutes. A flame, as Lord Byron has said, seemed to kindle up my entire frame, along with a strong desire to write poetry; and I felt so happy, so happy, that I was inclined to dance, then I began to pace backwards and forwards in the room, trying to shake off all thought of writing poetry; but the more I tried, the more strong the sensation became. It was so strong, I imagined that a pen was in my right hand, and a voice crying, “Write! Write!“
For the next 25 years McGonagall proclaimed his creations on street-corners, in pubs, and in a circus where he was content, for fifteen shillings a night, to be pelted with refuse while he recited. He died penniless and was buried in an unmarked Edinburgh grave but his memory lives on as long as poems like the one appended below, “The Death and Burial of Lord Tennyson”, are still treasured. His works are in print and, for their soporific qualities, make splendid bed-time reading.
Alas! England now mourns for her poet that's gone- The late and the good Lord Tennyson. I hope his soul has fled to heaven above, Where there is everlasting joy and love.
He was a man that didn't care for company, Because company interfered with his study, And confused the bright ideas in his brain, And for that reason from company he liked to abstain.
He has written some fine pieces of poetry in his time, Especially the May Queen, which is really sublime; Also the gallant charge of the Light Brigade- A most heroic poem, and beautifully made.
He believed in the Bible, also in Shakspeare, Which he advised young men to read without any fear; And by following the advice of both works therein, They would seldom or never commit any sin.
Lord Tennyson's works are full of the scenery of his boyhood, And during his life all his actions were good; And Lincolnshire was closely associated with his history, And he has done what Wordsworth did for the Lake Country.
His remains now rest in Westminster Abbey, And his funeral was very impressive to see; It was a very touching sight, I must confess, Every class, from the Queen, paying a tribute to the poet's greatness.
The pall-bearers on the right of the coffin were Mr W. E. H. Lecky, And Professor Butler, Master of Trinity, and the Earl of Rosebery; And on the left were Mr J. A. Froude and the Marquis of Salisbury, Also Lord Selborne, which was an imposing sight to see.
Singleton was a vocalist and radio star before getting the role she is best remembered for, playing Lucille Ball’s nemesis Carolyn Appleby on Love Lucy.
1934 Brigitte Bardot
It is difficult to believe that Mademoiselle Bardot, who is still the epitome of the French “sex kitten”, was born the same year as Bonnie and Clyde were gunned down and the Dionne quintuplets dazzled the media. Bardot made 47 films before retiring in 1973 and becoming, first, an animal rights activist and then a critic of Muslim immigration.
1952 Sylvia Kristel
The Dutch model achieved soft-porn film immortality by starring in 1974’s Emmanuelle, Emmanuelle 2, Emmanuelle 3, Emmanuelle 4, Emmanuelle 7, Private Lessons, and Lady Chatterley’s Lover. She did not have a happy life, was addicted to cocaine, and died of throat cancer in 2021.
1967Mira Sorvino
Academy Awards for supporting actors and actresses go to the strangest people — Walter Brennan won three of them. Mira Sorvino was tabbed for the prize in 1995 for her role as a prostitute in Woody Allen’s The Mighty Aphrodite. She has also been honoured by entomologists: an excretion of the sunburst diving beetle has been named “mirasorvone”.
From The Spectator: In the early morning of September 26 1983, Stanislav Petrov of the Soviet Union’s Air Defense Force was on duty, monitoring his country’s satellite system, when the siren sounded. His computer indicated that the US had just launched five nuclear-armed intercontinental ballistic missiles, and protocol required him to notify superiors immediately. Soviet strategy was to ‘launch on warning’, and many in Moscow believed Ronald Reagan was planning a first strike. But Petrov had a gut feeling this was a false alarm. Five missiles seemed too few, and the system itself was new. He did not inform superiors and within a few minutes it became clear that he had been right. Much of the world could have been destroyed within an hour if Petrov had followed protocol.
He says he was the only officer in his team who had received a civilian education. “My colleagues were all professional soldiers, they were taught to give and obey orders.” So, he believes, if somebody else had been on shift, the alarm would have been raised.
A few days later Mr Petrov received an official reprimand for what happened that night. Not for what he did, but for mistakes in the logbook.
He kept silent for 10 years. “I thought it was shameful for the Soviet army that our system failed in this way.” But, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the story did get into the press. Mr Petrov received several international awards.
He does not think of himself as a hero. “That was my job”, he said. “But they were lucky it was me on shift that night.”
Richard Porson was born on Christmas Day in 1759 to a working-class English family but his brilliance and remarkable memory attracted sponsors who paid for his education at Eton and Cambridge. He soon developed a reputation as a keen scholar of the classics, publishing editions of Aeschylus, Xenophon and Aristophanes. Porson lost his teaching position at Cambridge because he was not in holy orders but his supporters pooled together enough money to give him a comfortable annuity. In 1792 he became Regius Professor of Greek at Cambridge, a position with few duties and less remuneration but in 1806 he was made librarian of the London Institution which came with a handsome salary.
Porson was an engaging conversationalist, though his excessive drinking and lack of personal hygiene were often remarked on. In 1808 he died of a stroke. Chambers has an anecdote to illustrate Porson’s unconventional behaviour:
The circumstances connected with Porson’s marriage are rather curious. He was very intimate with Mr. Perry, the editor of the Morning Chronicle, for whom his sister, Mrs. Lunan, a widow, kept house. One night the professor was seated in his favourite haunt, the Cider Cellars in Maiden Lane, smoking a pipe with a friend, when he suddenly turned to the latter and said: ‘Friend George, do you not think the widow Lunan an agreeable sort of personage, as times go?’ The party addressed replied that she might be so.
‘In that case,’ replied Porson, ‘you must meet me at St. Martin’s-in-the-Fields at eight o’clock to-morrow morning,’ and thereupon withdrew after having called for and paid his reckoning. His friend was somewhat puzzled, but knowing that Porson generally meant what he said, resolved to obey the summons, and accordingly next morning presented himself at the appointed hour at the church, where he found Porson, with Mrs. Lunan and a female friend, and a parson in full canonicals for the solemnisation of matrimony. The service was quickly got through, and thereupon the party quitted the sacred building, the bride and bridegroom going each different ways with their respective friends.
The oddity of the affair did not end here. Porson had proposed to Mrs. Lunan some time before, but had insisted on her keeping it a secret from her brother; and now that the ceremony was completed, seemed as determined as ever that nothing should be said of the marriage, having apparently also made no preparations for taking his bride home. His friend, who had acted as groomsman, then insisted that Mr. Perry should be informed of the occurrence; and Porson, after some opposition, consenting, the two walked together to the residence of the worthy editor, in Lancaster Court, where, after some explanation, an arrangement was effected, including the preparation of a wedding-dinner, and the securing of apartments for the newly-married couple.
After dinner, Porson, instead of remaining to enjoy the society of his bride, sallied forth to the house of a friend, and after remaining there till a late hour, proceeded to the Cider Cellars, where he sat till eight o’clock next morning! Not-withstanding what may well be called this most unprecedented treatment of a wife on her wedding-day, it is said that during the year and a half that the marriage subsisted, Porson acted the part of a kind and attentive husband, and had his wife lived, there is great reason to believe that she might have weaned him in time from his objectionable habits.
Lemon Henry “Blind Boy” Jefferson was born to a family of Texas sharecroppers. Visually impaired since birth, he became a street musician, playing gospel music and dance tunes, developing a unique vocal and guitar style. In the 1920s his talents were discovered and recording contracts made him a rich man. Hits like “See That My Grave is Kept Clean” and “Matchbox Blues” sold well and inspired later musicians such as the Beatles. Jefferson died in 1929 in mysterious circumstances, either in a blizzard, in a street robbery, or of a heart attack. He was indicted into the inaugural class of the Blues Hall of Fame.
Here Jefferson sings “Black Cat Moan”:
Let us also salute those other blues musicians with snappy nicknames: Lightning Hopkins, Blind Boy Grunt, Cripple Clarence Lofton, Muddy Waters, Peg Leg Sam, Washboard Sam, Backwards Sam Firk, Ironing Board Sam, Magic Sam, Watermelon Slim, Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson, Howlin’ Wolf, Cow-Cow Davenport, Taj Mahal, and the immortal Johnny “Big Moose” Walker.
The second great Persian incursion into Greece in 480 had seen the invaders victorious on land at Thermopylae and defeated at sea at Salamis. Emperor Xerxes had returned to Asia but he had left a large army under Mardonius which he expected to complete the conquest of Hellas the following year.
Mardonius had been instrumental in putting down rebellions by Greek cities in Ionia but had not been chosen in 490 BC to be part of the first doomed Persian expedition which was defeated by the Athenians at Marathon. He was said to have been the driving force at the court of Xerxes in convincing the emperor to undertake another assault on the Greek mainland.
In the early part of 479 BC, Mardonius invested great effort in trying to pry Athens away from its coalition with the other cities who still defied Persia – Greeks were notoriously unstable in their alliances – but was unsuccessful. Consequently, he moved south into Attica, occupied Athens, and burnt it to the ground. This prompted the Athenian exiles to demand that Sparta and its allies act. They argued that it was the Athenian navy which had protected the Peloponnesus in 480 BC and if they didn’t get the military support they needed they would agree to Persian terms.
The Spartans responded and under Pausanias they led a multi-city force of hoplites and archers north against the Persians. Mardonius was reluctant to fight in the hilly terrain around Athens and so withdrew to the Boeotian plain where his cavalry could perform better.
On September 22 the two armies clashed outside Plataea. The troops of Mardonius were more numerous, including in their forces fighters from all across their empire as far away as India as well as Greeks from cities who had “medized” (bowed the knee to Persia). The Greeks on the other hand were more heavily armoured and in this mismatch they prevailed, killing the Persian general, routing his army, taking massive amounts of booty.
This battle and a near-simultaneous victory over Persian naval units at Mycale meant the end of the Persian threat to mainland Greece and the beginning of a new phase in the war.
Clark Gable. Marlon Brando. Mel Gibson. Hollywood heart-throbs have thrice portrayed the English seaman who led a rebellion aboard His Majesty’s Ship Bounty in 1789.
Fletcher Christian was born in 1764 to a middling English family which fell into debt forcing him to take to a life in the navy. Despite his late start to his career at sea he proved to be a capable sailor and rose to the rank of master’s mate, a junior officer. Several times he served under Lieutenant William Bligh who asked him in 1787 to join the crew of Bounty on a mission to transport a thousand breadfruit plants from Tahiti to the West Indies where they would be grown to serve as food for the slave labour on plantations.
Unfortunately, the Bounty’s sailors found life on Tahiti with its tropical breezes, laidback lifestyle, and sexually complaisant women to be more attractive that the lash, hard labour, and salt beef that the navy offered. After five months of relative bliss they resented being called back to their duties, particularly resenting Bligh’s methods of discipline. On April 28, 1789 Fletcher Christian led a mutiny which captured Bligh and forced him and 18 loyalists into an open ship’s boat before sailing away.
Christian’s hope was to find an island where he and his men could hide from the Royal Navy. His revisit to Tahiti lost him half his men who preferred to remain there but he recruited (or, rather, kidnapped) a number of male and female Tahitians to join him in founding a colony — somewhere. He chose remote Pitcairn Island where he landed on January 23, 1790. After stripping Bounty of any useful items, Christian ordered the ship to be burnt to the waterline, making escape impossible.
Though Pitcairn was a tropical paradise, the behaviour of the mutineers was bestial. With a few years all of the sailors except one, and all of the Tahitian men had died, most of them murdered. Christian was cut down by a group of Tahitians while tending his garden. His descendants survive on the island to this day.
The Axis powers of World War II were famous for their use of English-speaking radio personalities such as Lord Haw-Haw and Tokyo Rose as disseminators of propaganda. What is less well-known is the use of jazz and swing music by the Nazis in attempts to demoralize Western troops and civilian audiences.
Joseph Goebbels used the radio programme “Germany Calling”, first broadcast on this day in 1939, as a means of mocking enemy leaders and sowing discontent. In order to attract listeners in America and Britain he sanctioned musical numbers that were otherwise banned in Germany as being “Negermusik”, “degenerate”, “African”, or “Jewish”. He hired jazz musicians who had performed in underground clubs to do their patriotic duty on radio as “Charlie and His Orchestra”.
Here are the lyrics of Charlie’s version of “You’re Driving Me Crazy”, 1940.
Here is Winston Churchill’s latest tearjerker: Yes, the Germans are driving me crazy! thought I had brains, But they shattered my planes. They built up a front against me, It’s quite amazing, Clouding the skies with their planes.
This first clip is an early broadcast. The second two date from 1944 as the invasion of western Europe drew closer.
Announcers like Lord Haw-Haw were treated harshly after the war because they tended to be citizens of Allied powers but the musicians of Charlie’s orchestra went on to have successful careers in post-Hitler Germany.
