You, my only one, dearest, in isolation we are waiting for darkness. We considered the possibility of hiding but decided not to do it since we felt it would be hopeless. The famous trucks are already here and we are waiting for it to begin. I am completely calm. You—my only and dearest one, do not blame yourself for what happened, it was our destiny. We did what we could. Stay healthy and remember my words that time will heal—if not completely—then—at least partially. Take care of the little golden boy and don’t spoil him too much with your love. Both of you—stay healthy, my dear ones. I will be thinking of you and Misa. Have a fabulous life, we must board the trucks.
Into eternity, Vilma.
Kadashman-Enlil to Amenhotep III, c.1370 BC
Fathers often take a view about who their daughters should marry, and that has not changed over the three millennia since this letter was written. It is from one king to another, and royal daughters have often been treated as political pawns by their fathers.
The Babylonian king Kadashman-Enlil was a contemporary of the Egyptian pharaoh Amenhotep III the Magnificent, and the two were frequent correspondents.
This is one of the Amarna letters, carved on clay tablets, that were discovered in 1887 in the new sacred capital Akhenaten (today el-Amarna), founded by Amenhotep’s son Pharaoh Akhenaten. These diplomatic letters, 382 of them, written in Akkadian cuneiform, were probably stored in the Bureau of the Pharaoh’s Correspondence, and may well be the most revealing letters of the early ancient world.
Here, Kadashman-Enlil smarts at the insult of being refused one of Amenhotep’s daughters, before offering one of his own daughters in return for gold. Egyptian monarchs regarded themselves as far too important to give their daughters to foreign rulers—but the Babylonian is clearly irritated by this pharaonic arrogance, an irritation that may only be soothed with gold, gold, and more gold….
How is it possible that, having written to you in order to ask for the hand of your daughter—oh my brother, you should have written me using such language, telling me that you will not give her to me as since earliest times no daughter of the king of Egypt has ever been given in marriage? Why are you telling me such things? You are the king. You may do as you wish. If you wanted to give me your daughter in marriage who could say you nay?
But you, keeping to your principle of not sending anybody, have not sent me a wife. Have you not been looking for a fraternal and amical relationship, when you suggested to me—in writing—a marriage, in order to make us become closer? Why hasn’t my brother sent me a wife?
…It is possible for you not to send me a wife, but how could I refuse you a wife and not send her to you, as you did? I have daughters, I will not refuse you in any way concerning this….
As to the gold about which I wrote you, send me now quickly during this summer…before your messenger reaches me, gold in abundance, as much as is available. I could thus achieve the task I have undertaken. If you send me this summer…the gold concerning which I’ve written to you, I shall give you my daughter in marriage. Therefore, send gold, willingly, as much as you please. But if you do not send me gold…so I can achieve the task I have undertaken, why haven’t you sent me any earlier willingly? After I have finished the task I have undertaken, why would I wish for gold? Even if you sent me 3,000 talents of gold I would not accept them. I would return them and would not give you my daughter in marriage.
Oliver Cromwell to Valentine Walton, 4 July 1644
Even victory has its heartbreaks. Two days after his defeat of the forces of Charles I at Marston Moor, one of the bloodiest battles of the English Civil War and the largest ever fought on English soil, Oliver Cromwell writes to his brother-in-law, Valentine. He celebrates the victory as a “great favor from the Lord” for his side, “the Godly Party,” but also has to inform Walton that his son, young Valentine, has been killed in the battle. This is a classic letter of English history: as the Parliamentarian cavalry commander, Cromwell is the military genius who has created the Ironside cavalry that will decisively contribute to victory over the king.
Born in 1599 in Huntingdon, Cromwell was an obscure provincial gentleman until elected to Parliament at the height of its crisis with King Charles. Having no military experience, he recruited his own troop, ultimately commanding the New Model Army. Ruthless and fanatically religious, known as “Old Ironside,” this psalm-singing general emerged from the Civil War as the dominant parliamentary leader, reluctantly overseeing the execution of the king. In the new republic known as the “Commonwealth” he defeated all challengers, including the Scots, and led an invasion of Ireland, during which he suppressed the Catholics in a series of massacres. In 1653 he was elected as a quasi-king with the title Lord Protector. This letter shows his sanctimony and harshness—it is hard to forget the image of mowing down the royal cavalry like “stubble to our swords” but, having lost children himself, Cromwell also shows his softer side.
To my loving Brother, Colonel Valentine Walton: These
It’s our duty to sympathize in all mercies; and to praise the Lord together in chastisements or trials, that so we may sorrow together.
Truly England and the Church of God hath had a great favor from the Lord, in this great victory given unto us, such as the like never was since this war began.
It had all the evidences of an absolute victory obtained by the Lord’s blessing upon the Godly Party principally. We never charged but we routed the enemy. The Left Wing, which I commanded, being our own horse, saving a few Scots in our rear, beat all the Prince’s horse. God made them as stubble to our swords. We charged their regiments of foot with our horse, and routed all we charged. The particulars I cannot relate now; but I believe, of twenty thousand the Prince hath not four thousand left. Give glory, all the glory, to God.
Sir, God hath taken away your eldest son by a cannon shot. It brake his leg. We were necessitated to have it cut off, whereof he died.
Sir, you know my own trials this way: but the Lord supported me with this, That the Lord took him into the happiness we all pant for and live for. There is your precious child full of glory, never to know sin or sorrow any more. He was a gallant young man, exceedingly gracious. God give you His comfort. Before his death he was so full of comfort that to Frank Russel and myself he could not express it, “It was so great above his pain.” This he said to us. Indeed it was admirable. A little after, he said, One thing lay upon his spirit. I asked him, What that was? he told me it was, That God had not suffered him to be any more the executioner of His enemies. At his fall, his horse being killed with the bullet, and as I am informed three horses more, I am told he bid them, Open to the right and left, that he might see the rogues run. Truly he was exceedingly beloved in the Army, of all that knew him. But few knew him; for he was a precious young man, fit for God. You have cause to bless the Lord. He is a glorious Saint in Heaven; wherein you ought exceedingly to rejoice. Let this drink up your sorrow; seeing these are not feigned words to comfort you, but the thing is real and undoubted a truth. You may do all things by the strength of Christ. Seek that, and you shall easily bear your trial. Let this public mercy to the Church of God make you to forget your private sorrow. The Lord be your strength: so prays
Your truly faithful and loving brother,
OLIVER CROMWELL
Toussaint L’Ouverture to Napoleon, 12 July 1802
“I was born a slave but nature gave me the soul of a free man.” François-Dominique Toussaint was a black slave on the French colony Sainte-Domingue on the island of Hispaniola. Intelligent, gifted, and educated, he was freed from slavery and then managed a French plantation as well as somehow picking up a mix of Western and Creole medical knowledge, ultimately running his own estate with his own slaves. But in 1791, the French Revolution inspired a rebellion by the slaves of the island and he soon emerged as their leader. By 1793, he had earned the nickname L’Ouverture, “The Opener,” in
battle, and made this declaration: “Brothers and friends, I am Toussaint L’Ouverture; perhaps my name has made itself known to you. I have undertaken vengeance. I want Liberty and Equality to reign in St. Domingue. I am working to make that happen. Unite yourselves to us, brothers, and fight with us for the same cause.”
Fighting first with the Spanish against the French, then vice versa, then against the French again, L’Ouverture became governor-general, autocrat for life of the first black republic, issuing a constitution while remaining formally under France. Napoleon Bonaparte, first consul of France, sent an army. L’Ouverture ordered his commander Dessalines to burn Port-au-Prince: “Set that place on fire….Don’t forget we have no other resource than destruction and flames….Tear up the roads with shot; throw corpses and horses into all the fountains; burn and annihilate everything in order that those who’ve come to reduce us to slavery may before their eyes have the image of hell they deserve.” But Toussaint was tricked and captured. His wife, Suzanne, and family were arrested. Here, held on a French warship, the broken Toussaint writes this pitiful letter begging for the freedom of his family. Shipped to France, he died in prison but within a year, the French were defeated and his creation, Haiti, achieved independence.
CITIZEN FIRST CONSUL: I will not conceal my faults from you. I have committed some. What man is exempt? I am quite ready to avow them. After the word of honour of the Captain-General who represents the French Government, after a proclamation addressed to the colony, in which he promised to throw the veil of oblivion over the events which had taken place in Saint Domingo, I, as you did on the 18th Brumaire, withdrew into the bosom of my family. Scarcely had a month passed away, when evil-disposed persons, by means of intrigues, effected my ruin with the General-in-chief, by filling his mind with distrust against me. I received a letter from him which ordered me to act in conjunction with General Brunet. I obeyed. Accompanied by two persons, I went to Gonaïves, where I was arrested. They sent me on board the frigate Creole, I know not for what reason, without any other clothes than those I had on. The next day my house was exposed to pillage; my wife and my children were arrested; they had nothing, not even the means to cover themselves.
* * *
Citizen First Consul: A mother fifty years of age may deserve the indulgence and the kindness of a generous and liberal nation. She has no account to render. I alone ought to be responsible for my conduct to the Government I have served. I have too high an idea of the greatness and the justice of the First Magistrate of the French people, to doubt a moment of its impartiality. I indulge the feeling that the balance in its hands will not incline to one side more than to another. I claim its generosity.
Salutations and respect,
Toussaint Louverture
Alexander I to his sister Catherine, 20 September 1805
This letter shows how royal families are different from the rest of us. Tsar Alexander I was tall, blonde, handsome, and all-powerful, but he was also flawed: he colluded in the murder of his own father, a crime he never recovered from. His greatest love was “Catiche,” the little sister who was so much younger that he treated her more like a girlfriend than a sibling. In 1805, as Alexander confronts Napoleon for the first time, he writes her what amount to half love letters, saying he wants to kiss the nose and feet of “the Little Mad Thing.” But in some ways, Catiche was tougher than Alexander. A few weeks after this, he was catastrophically defeated by Napoleon.
Absurd Little Mad Thing,
Get out of your head that to answer you is a trouble to me. As soon as I have a moment it is a real pleasure, for I love few things in the world like my Bisiam.
The news you gave me of Aunt was a real pleasure to me, if she is kind enough to think of me. I assure you no day goes by without my thinking of her. Tell her so, I beg of you, from me. Farewell, light of my eyes, adored of my heart, polestar of the age, wonder of Nature, or better than all these, Bisiam Bisiamovna with the snub nose.
There is a lot left of the white grease which they put on the wheels. I should like to send you some to keep up that kind of softness in the muscles of the nose on which I press the tenderest of kisses.
All yours, heart and soul, Alexander.
Charles I to Charles II, 29 November 1648
Charles I succeeded his father, James I, in 1625. Determined to rule without the restraints of an overmighty Parliament, Charles was successful in this respect until multiple crises forced him to call a new Parliament in 1640. The confrontation between king and Parliament, exacerbated by religious conflicts, led to a civil war that Charles ultimately lost. Here, in late 1648, as Oliver Cromwell and his New Model Army consolidate control of the kingdom, Charles I is being held by parliamentary forces in Newport where, after a failed attempt to escape to the continent, he is engaged in fruitless negotiations to save both his throne and life.
Charles knows that many on the parliamentary side now regard him as a feckless “Man of Blood” who can no longer be trusted, and support a republic. Even the unthinkable is now possible: the trial and execution of a divinely sanctioned monarch. Most of the royal family, including his beloved wife Henrietta Maria, have escaped to the continent. Their eldest son Charles, prince of Wales, is in the Hague. The king writes to his son, knowing he may never see him again. It is a letter on kingship—but also on how to behave and how to live—from a doomed father to a faraway son.
In January 1649 the king was tried, sentenced to death, and beheaded. England became a republic and protectorate until 1660, when the son acceded to the throne as Charles II.
NEWPORT, NOVEMBER 29, 1648
Son,
By what hath been said, you may see how long we have labored in search of peace. Do not you be discouraged to tread these ways, to restore yourself to your right; but prefer the way of peace. Show the greatness of your mind, rather to conquer your enemies by pardoning than punishing. If you saw how unmanly and unchristianly this implacable disposition is in our evil willers, you would avoid that spirit. Censure us not, for having parted with too much of our own right; the price was great; the commodity was security to us, peace to our people. And we are confident another Parliament would remember how useful a King’s power is to a people’s liberty.
Of how much have we divested ourself, that we and they might meet again in a due Parliamentary way to agree the bounds for Prince and people! And in this, give belief to our experience, never to affect more greatness or prerogative than what is really and intrinsically for the good of our subjects (not satisfaction of favorites). And if you thus use it, you will never want means to be a father to all, and a bountiful Prince to any you would be extraordinarily gracious to. You may perceive all men trust their treasure, where it returns them interest: and if Princes, like the sea, receive and repay all the fresh streams and rivers trust them with, they will not grudge, but pride themselves, to make them up an ocean.
These considerations may make you a great Prince, as your father is now a low one; and your state may be so much the more established, as mine hath been shaken. For subjects have learned (we dare say) that victories over their Princes are but triumphs over themselves; and so, will be more unwilling to hearken to changes hereafter.
The English nation are a sober people; however at present under some infatuation. We know not but this may be the last time we may speak to you or the world publicly. We are sensible into what hands we are fallen; and yet we bless God we have those inward refreshments, that the malice of our enemies cannot disturb. We have learned to own ourself by retiring into ourself, and therefore can the better digest what befalls us; not doubting but God can restrain our enemies’ malice, and turn their fierceness unto his praise.
To conclude, if God give you success, use it humbly and far from revenge. If He restore you to your right upon hard conditions, whatever you promise, keep. Those men which have forced laws which they were bound to observe, will find
their triumphs full of troubles. Do not think anything in this world worth obtaining by foul and unjust means.
You are the son of our love; and, as we direct you to what we have recommended to you, so we assure you, we do not more affectionately pray for you (to whom we are a natural parent) than we do, that the ancient glory and renown of this nation be not buried in irreligion and fanatic humor: and that all our subjects (to whom we are a political parent) may have such sober thoughts as to seek their peace in the orthodox profession of the Christian religion, as it was established since the Reformation in this kingdom, and not in new revelation; and that the ancient laws, with the interpretation according to the known practices, may once again be a hedge about them; that you may in due time govern, and they be governed, as in the fear of the Lord.
C.R
Svetlana Stalina to her father, Josef Stalin, mid-1930s
What happens when your children decide to play dictator for a day? Growing up in the Kremlin, Svetlana, the daughter of the Soviet dictator Josef Stalin, likes to play this game. From the age of seven to eleven, she often writes orders that every child in the world would love to put into effect. One day, she orders her “First Secretary” (Stalin) and other “Secretaries” (of the Communist Party) that all homework be cancelled in all Soviet schools. Stalin enormously enjoyed playing the game and signed all her orders, as did the rest of the politburo. They were then pinned up on the board in the Stalin kitchen. Stalin called her “Svetlana the Boss” or “Setanka, Mistress of the House,” and usually answered: “I obey. Setanka’s little secretary. Stalin.” Svetlana signed herself “First Secretary of the Communist Party” or “Boss.” In this “order,” she demands to know what is really happening in the very secretive ruling Central Committee through which her father terrorized the Soviet people. Sometimes Stalin requested more orders: “write to me more often: your Little Secretary [Stalin] will soon not know what to do if he doesn’t receive your daily orders and commands.”
Written in History Page 6
