Throughout the 1920s, stock prices in the United States were rising rapidly, driven largely by speculative investments. People were borrowing money in order to buy shares and stock in companies, and many believed the market would keep rising forever. The problem was that stock prices became vastly overinflated and disconnected from the actual value of the companies. In addition, unequal wealth distribution between the rich and poor was rife. While some were getting richer, the majority of workers weren’t seeing wages grow at the same pace. Additionally, industries like farming were struggling with overproduction and falling prices. The agricultural industry was hit especially hard by a series of droughts, further damaging the economy. With no regulations, banks were poorly managed and the system was vulnerable to mass withdrawals, which would become a problem when confidence in the market collapsed.
On October 22nd, 1929, also known as Black Tuesday, investors started to realise the market was overvalued. Stock prices began to fall rapidly. A panic began to set in, and many tried to sell their stocks all at once. This led to a market panic, and the New York Stock Exchange had to call in bankers to try to stabilise the situation. Despite their efforts, the market continued to tumble. On October 29th, now known as the infamous Black Tuesday, the stock market completely collapsed. There was an overwhelming wave of selling, with nearly 16 million shares traded. The Dow Jones Industrial Average, a stock market index of prominent companies listed on stock exchanges in the United States, lost 12% of its value on that single day.
A graph of the value of Dow Jones
This began the Great Depression, a severe and prolonged economic downturn that began in 1929 and lasted through most of the 1930s, becoming the longest and deepest economic depression of the 20th century. It affected not just the United States but many countries around the world, with devastating social, political, and economic consequences. Unemployment reached unforeseen highs, many families lost their homes and political instability was rife.
In the United States, Democrat Candidate Franklin D. Roosevelt introduced the New Deal, a series of programs aimed at providing relief, recovery, and reform. These included public works projects, banking reforms, Social Security, and labour protections. While the New Deal did not end the Great Depression, it helped alleviate some of its worst effects and reshaped the role of government in the economy. Roosevelt is largely considered to be one of the greatest Presidents in US History and fundamentally remodelled the Democratic Party into what it is today.
Franklin D. Roosevelt, President of the United States (1933-1945)
In the United Kingdom, the Great Depression lead to the rise of Keynesianism, a belief that during times of economic downturn, governments should step in and increase public spending to stimulate demand. This idea became a cornerstone of post-depression economic policy. This was a system that ran strong in the United Kingdom up until 1979 and the radical neoliberalism of Margaret Thatcher.
Clement Attlee, Labour Prime Minister (1945-1951)
In Germany, the Depression led to the rise of the Nazi Party, an extremist far right faction that believed that the previous democratic Weimar Government had led Germany to failure, led by Adolf Hitler. He capitalised on the widespread discontent and promised to restore Germany’s economy. He then used state-led economic programmes to reduce unemployment and revive the economy, whilst also putting much of the blame for the crash on the Jews as a scapegoat. As a result, anti-semitism was widespread in Germany, leading to the ultimate acceptance of state sponsored anti-semitism, such as Kristallnacht and eventually the Holocaust. Hitler later went on to start World War 2, which lead to over 70 million people dying.
By the autumn of 1918, Germany was collapsing both militarily and politically. The Spring Offensive had failed, Allied counterattacks were steadily forcing the German armies back towards their own borders, and the arrival of hundreds of thousands of fresh American troops made it increasingly clear that Germany could not win the war. The situation at home was equally severe. The Allied blockade had contributed to severe shortages of food and fuel, while years of war had exhausted the German population. Strikes and demonstrations were becoming increasingly common, and support for the imperial government was weakening.
The German military leadership itself had begun to recognise that the war could not be won. In late September, senior commanders Paul von Hindenburg and Erich Ludendorff informed the government that Germany should seek an immediate armistice. Their recommendation was partly intended to secure the best possible peace terms before the military situation deteriorated further. It also transferred responsibility for ending the war from the military leadership to the civilian government, a decision that would later contribute to the damaging “stab-in-the-back” myth that Germany’s defeat had been caused by politicians rather than military failure.
(L-R) Hindenburg, Kaiser Wilhelm and Ludendorff discussing military strategy
Germany’s allies fell one after another. Bulgaria surrendered in September, the Ottoman Empire signed an armistice in October, and Austria-Hungary began to disintegrate as its many nationalities declared independence. Germany now stood alone. Prince Maximilian of Baden became Chancellor in October and began introducing constitutional reforms intended to transform Germany from an authoritarian imperial system into a parliamentary democracy. The Kaiser remained head of state, but responsibility for government was increasingly transferred to the Reichstag. These reforms, however, came too late to prevent the revolutionary movement that was already developing. The immediate trigger came from the German navy.
On October 24th 1918, the German naval command ordered the High Seas Fleet to prepare for one final operation against the British Royal Navy. The plan was effectively a last gamble: the fleet would sail out and engage the much larger British fleet in what many sailors believed would be a suicidal battle. After four years of war, the sailors had little interest in dying for a war that was already effectively lost. On October 29th, sailors at Wilhelmshaven began refusing orders. The mutiny spread to Kiel, where thousands of sailors refused to participate in the operation. The authorities attempted to suppress the rebellion by arresting some of the mutineers, but this had the opposite effect. Workers joined the sailors, demonstrations broke out and workers’ and soldiers’ councils began forming.
A group of soldiers holding a sign stating “”Soldiers’ council […] long live the socialist republic”
These councils were inspired partly by the soviets of the Russian Revolution, although the German movement was not simply a copy of Bolshevism. They generally demanded an end to the war, political democracy, improved conditions for workers and the removal of the old imperial political establishment. Germany’s existing political parties were themselves divided over how far the revolution should go. The rebellion spread rapidly across the country. Councils emerged in cities including Hamburg, Bremen, Lübeck, Hanover, Cologne and Munich. In Bavaria, the monarchy was overthrown and a socialist-led republic was proclaimed under Kurt Eisner. Germany was now experiencing a political crisis alongside its military defeat.
The largest socialist party, the Social Democratic Party of Germany (SPD), wanted to prevent the country from descending into the kind of revolutionary civil war that had devastated Russia. Its leaders supported parliamentary democracy and believed that Germany should become a democratic republic rather than a socialist state governed through workers’ councils. More radical socialists disagreed. The Independent Social Democratic Party (USPD) wanted a much more extensive transformation of German society, while the revolutionary Spartacus League, associated with Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht, advocated a socialist revolution inspired by the Russian Bolsheviks. The possibility of a Bolshevik-style revolution terrified Germany’s conservative establishment. The SPD therefore found itself in an unusual position: it was leading the movement towards democracy while simultaneously attempting to prevent the revolutionary left from overthrowing the parliamentary system.
A group of socialists declaring the Bremen Soviet Republic
The crisis reached its climax in Berlin. On November 9th 1918, Chancellor Prince Maximilian of Baden announced that Kaiser Wilhelm II had abdicated, although the precise constitutional circumstances of his departure were complicated and the announcement was made before Wilhelm had formally signed an abdication document. Wilhelm had lost the support of much of the military and political establishment and eventually fled across the border into the neutral Netherlands. Germany’s monarchy had effectively collapsed. On the same day, two competing visions for Germany’s future were publicly proclaimed. Philipp Scheidemann, an SPD politician, announced from a window of the Reichstag that Germany was a republic. Only a few hours later, Karl Liebknecht proclaimed a “free socialist republic” from the Berlin Palace.
The distinction was significant. The German Revolution had not produced a single unified revolutionary movement. Republicans, parliamentary social democrats, revolutionary socialists, conservatives and military leaders all had different visions for what should replace the Kaiser. Friedrich Ebert, leader of the SPD, became the dominant figure in the provisional government. His priority was to end the war and establish order. He reached an agreement with the army’s senior commander, Wilhelm Groener, in which the military leadership agreed to support the new republican government in return for the government’s commitment to preserving the army and preventing a communist revolution. The new government requested an immediate armistice. To negotiate it, a German delegation led by politician Matthias Erzberger travelled through the devastated battlefields of northern France before arriving in the Forest of Compiègne. There, deep in the woods, stood the private railway carriage of Marshal Ferdinand Foch, the Supreme Allied Commander. It was an intentionally symbolic setting. Germany, which had dictated harsh peace terms to defeated Russia just months earlier, now found itself on the receiving end.
A carriage of the same design on display in a museum. The original carriage was destroyed by the SS in 1940
When the German delegation entered Foch’s railway carriage during the early hours of 8 November, they hoped that President Woodrow Wilson’s Fourteen Points might provide the basis for a relatively moderate peace. Instead, Foch bluntly asked what they wanted before presenting them with a lengthy list of Allied demands. There would be virtually no negotiation. Germany was ordered to evacuate Belgium, France, Luxembourg and Alsace-Lorraine, withdraw all forces east of the Rhine, and allow Allied occupation of bridgeheads on the river. Thousands of artillery pieces, machine guns, aircraft, locomotives and railway wagons were to be handed over, while the powerful German High Seas Fleet was to be interned. The Allied naval blockade would remain in place until a permanent peace treaty had been signed.
The German delegates considered refusing the terms. They knew they were severe and feared the reaction at home. Yet the alternative was equally bleak. The German Army was exhausted, revolution was spreading through the country, and the Allies were preparing to continue their offensive if negotiations failed. With no realistic prospect of improving their position, Erzberger signed the armistice shortly after 5 a.m. on 11 November 1918.
An illustration of the French and German delegations discussing the terms of surrender
Although the agreement had been signed, the fighting did not stop immediately. The ceasefire would not take effect until 11 a.m., giving armies six more hours of combat. Across the Western Front, artillery continued to fire, patrols continued to clash, and commanders launched attacks to improve their positions before the deadline. More than 10,000 men became casualties during those final hours, including around 2,700 killed. Among the last was the American soldier Henry Gunther, who charged a German machine-gun position just one minute before the armistice came into force and was shot dead at approximately 10:59 a.m.
Then, at exactly 11 o’clock on the morning of 11 November 1918 – the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month – the guns fell silent. After more than four years of industrialised warfare, the First World War had finally come to an end. The armistice did not bring lasting peace, however. It merely paused the fighting while diplomats prepared the Treaty of Versailles, whose controversial terms would reshape Europe and sow many of the grievances that contributed to the outbreak of the Second World War just two decades later.
I was in a fever of excitement as I listened to the address. The reverend old gentleman seemed to be trembling when he informed us that the House of Hohen-zollern should no longer wear the Imperial Crown, that the Fatherland had become a ‘Republic’, that we should pray to the Almighty not to withhold His blessing from the new order of things and not to abandon our people in the days to come. […] A feeling of profound dismay fell on the people in that assembly, and I do not think there was a single eye that withheld its tears. As for myself, I broke down completely when the old gentleman tried to resume his story by informing us that we must now end this long war, because the war was lost, he said, and we were at the mercy of the victor. […] It was impossible for me to stay and listen any longer. Darkness surrounded me as I staggered and stumbled back to my ward and buried my aching head between the blankets and pillow. I had not cried since the day that I stood beside my mother’s grave.
Adolf Hitler, Corporal in the German Army, Mein Kampf
As the Ottoman Empire joined the Central Powers, the war against Russia in the Caucuses had reached a stalemate. One thing Russia desperately needed was supplies. First Lord of the Admiralty, Winston Churchill, believed that they needed to secure the land around the Dardanelles Strait, which would then lead into the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea beyond, allowing a secure supply line to Russia. It could also possibly help the Western Front, by opening up a new front to divert the German forces onto 3 fronts.
A map of the area
The first attempt at securing the strait was on March 18th, 1915 via a naval attack through the straight in an attempt to take out the Ottoman artillery guns. However, Ottoman sea mines had been placed in the strait and that, combined with the Ottoman gun fire, sank 3 battleships and the ships eventually had to retreat. On the 25th of April, 75,000 troops, comprising of French, British, Australian and Kiwi troops, commanded by General Ian Hamilton landed on the beaches of the Gallipoli Peninsula. Despite not having proper landing craft, instead having to row over, a decent beach head was formed.
The Anzac forces had landed North of their intended target and were now inside a cove. Due to their valiant efforts, the cove was named Anzac Cove.
British Officers in a trench at Gallipoli
However, once the beach head was formed, trench warfare soon began to set in. What made the trench warfare here worse was the glaring sun and the dysentery epidemic. Hamilton ordered another 60,000 men to attack Suvla Bay from the water. However, due to hesitation from Allied high command, the Ottoman’s had managed to dig defences and the bay was eventually recaptured by Mustafa Kemal Pasha on August 10th. The attempt to break the stalemate was a disastrous failure.
As allied and Ottoman casualties began to increase, the stalemate was no closer to breaking. Eventually, on December 7th, an evacuation was ordered, with the last troops leaving Gallipoli on January 6th of the next year.
Despite its significance in Australian, Kiwi and Turkish history, the Gallipoli campaign is still considered to be one of the greatest catastrophe for the allies during the war. One of the main problems with the campaign was that, despite the Allied advantage, no orders were issued and due to the lack of coordination the allies could not advance. They were instead ordered to dig in, which was considered to be highly counterproductive. The campaign ultimately failed to take the pressure off Russia, which many attribute as the reason of the Russian Revolutions of February and October of 1917.
Well, I thought the same as everybody else. Everybody said ‘It’ll be over by Christmas and you’ve got to get out soon, otherwise you won’t see anything’. But I don’t know if it was my opinion, or if everybody was saying it. One certainly changed one’s mind when we found how well-organised Jerry was compared with us for instance.
Bill Haine, a British Soldier in WW1
Despite what many claimed at home, the war was not over by Christmas. Winter was setting in and the fighting had slowed even more than before. Whilst the Christmas Truce of 1914 is seen as a unique one, ceasefires had been occurring all over the Western Front. A “turn a blind eye” attitude was becoming common place, despite orders from command. The harsh winter was also getting to the soldiers. The feeling of the first Christmas away from home was beginning to set in so gifts were sent. Kaiser Wilhelm sent cigars for the officers and pipes for the ranks while Princess Mary of Harewood sent out cigarettes, sweets and cards.
On Christmas Eve, the rain that had been flooding trenches for weeks had finally stopped, and the ice froze the floor of the trenches over, reducing the risk of trench foot significantly. Soon, snow fell upon No Mans Land and the gun fire slowly but surely dwindled into silence. Filled with merriment and joy, the German’s began to sing Silent Night in their trenches. The British officers, hearing this, believed it to be a challenge and began singing their own carols back at the Germans. However, what began as a competition eventually turned into a harmonisation of English and German voices. Many officers met by the wire, agreeing not to exchange gunfire the next day. However, such friendliness was not shared with the French or Belgian troops, as they were under occupation by the Germans at the time. However, they did agree to stop shooting in order to bury their dead.
Christmas Day came. Many British soldiers looked over the parapet to see German Soldiers standing upright in No Mans Land. The two sides got out and buried their dead. The two sides found they shared a communal experience, of having had their friends die and being sick of the war. Extra gifts given to them by their wives and families were exchanged. One notable exchange was between Captain Edward Hulse of the Scots Guard and Lieutenant Thomas of the 15th Westphalians. Thomas gave Hulse a Victoria Cross and a series of letters belonging to an officer who had been killed in a German trench in a previous attack, hoping to have them returned to his family. Touched by his empathy, Hulse gave Thomas his scarf he had received the night prior. Not having anything to give back, Thomas ordered a German troop to find the gloves given to him by his family in order to give them to Hulse. Unfortunately, Hulse ended up being killed in action the following April at the Battle of Neuve-Chappelle while trying to help his commanding officer. Thomas’ fate remains unknown
German and British troops playing football together on the battlefield
The most famous part of this truce were the football matches played between the two sides. Both sides brought out their own footballs, playing kick-about between the two trenches. However, not all was done with best intentions. This time of peace was used to repair dugouts and spy on the enemy. Some were cautious, with incidents of people spotting daggers being drawn and British soldiers not wanting to smoke German cigarettes for fear of poisoning.
Eventually, high command stepped in, fearing that the war would not go on if their troops knew their enemy as people. For some, the armistice was swift and done with by Boxing Day. Others carried on, pushing until New Years Eve. German command dispatched snipers whilst the French ordered artillery barrages. For high command, they believed the war machine had to go on and all human connection must be stamped out. There was never another ceasefire like this, not just in this war but any war since then.
For much of the nineteenth century, war still retained an element of glamour in the European imagination. Military service could be portrayed as an adventure, a test of courage and a path to honour. Paintings, newspapers and patriotic literature often presented battles as dramatic clashes between soldiers and their commanders, with cavalry charges, colourful uniforms and heroic acts of individual bravery. This did not mean that nineteenth-century people were unaware of the horrors of war. The Napoleonic Wars had killed hundreds of thousands, whilst conflicts such as the Crimean War and the American Civil War demonstrated just how destructive modern weapons could be. However, the image of the soldier as a heroic figure remained powerful. The First World War would fundamentally challenge that image.
A notoriously glorified painting of Napoleon Bonaparte crossing the Alps during the War of the Second Coalition
The nineteenth century inherited much of its image of warfare from an earlier age. Battles were often depicted as grand spectacles in which generals directed armies from horseback whilst soldiers demonstrated courage and discipline on the battlefield. The Napoleonic Wars had helped create this mythology. Napoleon Bonaparte became one of the most celebrated military figures in European history, whilst paintings of battles emphasised movement, colour and heroic leadership. Military uniforms themselves were often deliberately striking, helping commanders distinguish units and contributing to the ceremonial character of armies. Nationalism strengthened this romantic view. As European nation-states developed, military service increasingly became associated with patriotism and citizenship. Soldiers were portrayed as men willing to sacrifice themselves for their country, whilst military victories became symbols of national greatness. By the late nineteenth century, this image could still be seen in popular culture. Young men were encouraged to view military service as an opportunity for adventure, friendship and honour. Yet warfare was already changing.
The technology of warfare was developing much faster than the romantic image surrounding it. The invention and improvement of the machine gun, modern artillery, smokeless powder, rapid-fire rifles and increasingly accurate ammunition meant that crossing an open battlefield was becoming extraordinarily dangerous. The American Civil War had already demonstrated some of these dangers. Rifled muskets increased the range and accuracy of infantry fire, whilst railways and telegraphs allowed armies to mobilise and coordinate on an unprecedented scale. The Crimean War had also demonstrated the consequences of industrial-age logistics and weaponry. The Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71 provided another warning. Modern artillery and mass armies could produce enormous casualties in a relatively short period of time.
A painting of the declaration of the German Empire after the Franco-Prussian War
Yet military thinking did not always keep pace with technological change. Many European armies continued to place considerable emphasis on offensive spirit, discipline and morale. The belief that determined soldiers could overcome defensive positions remained powerful. When the First World War began in 1914, millions of men marched to war believing that the conflict would be relatively short. Few understood what industrial warfare was about to become.
The first trenches of the First World War were relatively simple defensive positions. Soldiers dug into the ground for protection from enemy fire, often creating little more than elongated foxholes. As the war on the Western Front settled into stalemate, however, these temporary positions developed into enormous defensive systems. A typical trench system was not simply one trench facing another. There could be several lines of trenches, connected by communication trenches and supported by dugouts, machine-gun positions, artillery batteries, supply areas, command posts and medical facilities. Reserve units could be stationed behind the front line, ready to reinforce troops during an attack. The front itself stretched for hundreds of miles from the Belgian coast to the Swiss frontier. What had initially been expected to be a war of movement had become a war in which armies could remain within the same general positions for months or even years.
An image of early trenches on the Western Front
Life in the trenches was rarely glamorous. Rain could turn the ground into mud, whilst poor drainage created an environment in which soldiers were constantly wet and cold. One of the most notorious consequences was trench foot, a condition caused by prolonged exposure to cold and damp conditions which could result in severe swelling, tissue damage and, in extreme cases, amputation. Rats became common around trench systems, attracted by food waste and the bodies of dead soldiers. Lice spread rapidly and contributed to the misery of daily life. Soldiers were also constantly exposed to the possibility of death. Artillery shells could strike without warning. Snipers targeted exposed soldiers. Machine guns could sweep exposed areas of the battlefield, whilst mines and grenades created additional dangers. Even when there was no major attack, the psychological pressure could be enormous. Soldiers could spend days or weeks waiting for an enemy bombardment or attack, knowing that they might be ordered over the parapet at any moment.
Between opposing trench systems was the area that became known as No Man’s Land. It was rarely the completely empty space suggested by the name. It was often covered in shell craters, barbed wire, broken equipment, destroyed trees and the remains of buildings. In some sectors, the landscape had been so heavily bombarded that it bore little resemblance to the countryside that had existed before the war. Crossing it was extraordinarily dangerous.
An image of No Man’s Land
A typical attack might begin with an artillery bombardment intended to destroy enemy positions, cut barbed wire and suppress defending troops. Once the barrage lifted or moved forward, infantry would leave their trenches and attempt to cross No Man’s Land. Defenders could respond with machine-gun and rifle fire, artillery and grenades. The resulting casualties could be enormous. However, the popular image of commanders simply ordering soldiers to walk slowly in straight lines into machine-gun fire is misleading. Tactics evolved throughout the war. Armies experimented with creeping barrages, infiltration tactics, improved communications, grenades, mortars, tanks and coordinated infantry-artillery attacks. The problem was that military technology was developing so quickly that armies were constantly trying to adapt to it.
The quality of trenches varied enormously depending on the location, the soil, the length of time a position had been occupied and the resources available. German forces generally had an advantage in the construction of defensive positions, particularly in sectors where they had time to establish permanent fortifications. Their trenches were often deeper and more elaborate, with substantial dugouts beneath the ground. Some German dugouts could contain sleeping quarters, command rooms, medical facilities and storage areas. Certain positions were remarkably sophisticated by the standards of the battlefield. Allied trenches varied considerably. British and French forces also constructed extensive defensive systems, and their positions became increasingly sophisticated as the war continued. The difference was partly a consequence of strategy. After the German retreat to the Hindenburg Line in 1917, German forces deliberately constructed deeply fortified defensive positions designed to absorb artillery bombardments and resist infantry attacks. The idea that British trenches were universally shallow while German trenches were universally deep therefore oversimplifies the reality. Conditions varied substantially across the Western Front.
Although machine guns became one of the defining symbols of trench warfare, artillery was responsible for the majority of battlefield casualties. Artillery could destroy trenches, bury soldiers alive and turn entire landscapes into craters. Soldiers could be exposed to bombardments lasting hours or even days. The psychological consequences could be devastating. Men subjected to prolonged bombardment sometimes experienced uncontrollable shaking, paralysis, blindness, nightmares, panic and emotional collapse. During the war this was often called shell shock. At first, many military authorities believed that men suffering from shell shock were cowards or were attempting to avoid combat. As the scale of the problem became apparent, however, medical understanding gradually changed.
An image often used to demonstrate shell shock
What we now recognise as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is not exactly synonymous with shell shock, and historians and psychologists debate how closely the two conditions correspond. Nevertheless, the experience of shell shock demonstrated something that the romantic image of warfare had largely ignored: modern warfare could inflict psychological injuries as profound as its physical ones.
In 1915, another terrifying weapon appeared on the Western Front. Germany used chlorine gas at the Second Battle of Ypres in April 1915. The gas was released from cylinders and carried towards Allied positions by the wind. The attack demonstrated the terrifying potential of chemical warfare. Chlorine damaged the lungs and could cause suffocation. Other chemical agents, including phosgene and mustard gas, were introduced later. Chemical weapons had been restricted by international agreements before the war, including the 1899 Hague Declaration concerning the use of projectiles intended to diffuse asphyxiating or deleterious gases. The First World War nevertheless saw their widespread use by both sides. Gas did not become the dominant killer of the war – the vast majority of casualties were still caused by conventional weapons – but it became one of its most feared symbols. Protective equipment also evolved. Soldiers were issued increasingly effective gas masks, and armies developed warning systems and procedures for responding to attacks. The image of soldiers choking beneath clouds of poisonous gas became another powerful reminder that warfare had entered a new technological age.
An image of German Soldiers releasing some chemical gas
The greatest shock of trench warfare was perhaps not any individual weapon, but its duration. The soldiers who went to war in 1914 had often expected a short conflict. Instead, the Western Front became a largely static battlefield lasting for more than four years. The Battle of the Somme in 1916 became one of the clearest demonstrations of the scale of industrial warfare. On the first day alone, the British Army suffered tens of thousands of casualties. The offensive ultimately produced enormous losses on both sides for relatively limited territorial gains. Verdun, Passchendaele and numerous other battles produced similar experiences. This did not mean that every attack achieved nothing. Armies learned, adapted and sometimes captured strategically important territory. But the enormous cost of attempting to break through heavily defended positions demonstrated how difficult it was to achieve decisive results against a prepared industrial defence. The battlefield had become a machine in which enormous quantities of ammunition, equipment and human lives could be consumed.
The First World War therefore transformed the popular image of warfare. The cavalry charge remained a powerful symbol of military heroism, but tanks, aircraft, machine guns, heavy artillery and poison gas increasingly defined the battlefield. Individual bravery still mattered, but courage could not protect a soldier from an artillery shell exploding hundreds of metres away. This was perhaps the most important change in the perception of war. The nineteenth-century image of war had often focused on the individual soldier’s courage. The First World War increasingly demonstrated the power of impersonal forces: industrial production, artillery, logistics, communications and mass mobilisation. A soldier could perform an extraordinary act of bravery and still be killed moments later by an artillery barrage whose source he could not even see. Artists and writers increasingly reflected this change. The patriotic literature of the early war years gradually gave way to a much darker cultural memory. Poets such as Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon described the mud, exhaustion, fear and destruction of the trenches rather than the glory of battle. Owen’s poetry in particular challenged the idea that dying in war was inherently noble, famously describing the experience of soldiers dying from gas and the suffering of men exposed to industrial warfare. Photography and newspapers also brought the war closer to civilians, although censorship meant that the public did not see the full reality of the front. For millions of families, however, the absence of a son, husband or brother made the cost of war impossible to ignore. The war had not simply changed warfare. It had changed the way Europeans understood it.
Stormtroopers Advance Under a Gas Attack, an anti-war piece of art by Otto Dix
The First World War did not completely destroy the romantic image of military service. Heroism, patriotism and sacrifice remained important ideas throughout the twentieth century. Governments continued to use them to encourage recruitment and maintain morale. But the experience of industrialised warfare made it increasingly difficult to portray war simply as an exciting adventure. The trenches became a symbol of something fundamentally different: a war in which ordinary soldiers endured prolonged fear, disease, exhaustion and bombardment, often for objectives they could barely understand from the front line. The transformation was not instantaneous, nor was it entirely caused by the trenches. The nineteenth century had already seen devastating industrial wars, and people had long understood that warfare could be brutal. What the First World War did was bring the consequences of modern technology, mass armies and industrial production together on an unprecedented scale. By 1918, the old image of the glorious battlefield had been profoundly damaged. War could still be presented as heroic. But it could no longer so easily be presented as glamorous. The trenches had become one of the defining symbols of the twentieth century: a reminder that modern warfare was no longer primarily a contest between individual warriors seeking glory, but an industrial struggle capable of consuming entire generations.
Following Austria-Hungary’s declaration of war on Serbia, Europe’s intricate alliance system rapidly transformed a regional conflict into a continental one. Russia began mobilising its vast army on 30 July 1914 in support of Serbia. Germany, honouring its alliance with Austria-Hungary, viewed Russian mobilisation as an act of war and issued an ultimatum demanding that it cease. When the ultimatum expired, Germany declared war on Russia on 1 August. Two days later it declared war on Russia’s ally, France.
A newspaper announcing the outbreak of war
For German military planners, this was the nightmare they had long feared: a two-front war. France lay to the west, Russia to the east. Fighting both simultaneously would stretch Germany’s resources to breaking point. Although Russia possessed an enormous army, its mobilisation was expected to take several weeks because of its vast territory and comparatively underdeveloped railway network. Germany therefore believed it had a short window of opportunity to defeat France before turning its full attention eastward.
The strategy had been devised almost a decade earlier by Field Marshal Count Alfred von Schlieffen, Chief of the German General Staff until 1906. Schlieffen argued that France’s eastern frontier was protected by an extensive chain of modern fortresses stretching from Switzerland to Luxembourg. A direct assault would likely become bogged down in costly siege warfare. Instead, he proposed an enormous sweeping manoeuvre through the neutral countries of Luxembourg, Belgium and, in his original plan, much of the Netherlands. The bulk of the German Army would advance around the French fortifications, swing south-west of Paris before wheeling east, trapping the French Army against the German border in one gigantic encirclement. If everything went according to plan, France would be defeated in little more than six weeks, allowing Germany to transfer hundreds of thousands of soldiers by rail to face the slowly mobilising Russians.
A photo of Schlieffen, 1906
By the time war broke out in 1914, however, Schlieffen was dead. His successor, Helmuth von Moltke the Younger, believed the original plan was too ambitious. He modified it by reducing the strength of the powerful right wing that was meant to sweep through Belgium and abandoned the invasion of the Netherlands altogether, hoping to preserve Dutch neutrality and keep valuable trade routes open. Historians still debate whether these changes fatally weakened the plan or whether Schlieffen’s original design had always been unrealistic.
On 2 August German forces occupied Luxembourg before crossing into neutral Belgium the following day. Belgium had refused German demands to allow its army free passage, and Britain – one of the guarantors of Belgian neutrality under the Treaty of London of 1839 – issued an ultimatum demanding Germany withdraw. When Germany ignored it, Britain declared war on 4 August 1914.
A newspaper announcing the British declaration of war on Germany
The invasion did not unfold as German commanders had hoped. The heavily fortified city of Liège offered unexpectedly fierce resistance, delaying the German advance for almost two weeks. Although enormous siege guns eventually reduced the Belgian forts, the delay disrupted Germany’s carefully planned timetable and allowed both France and Britain additional time to mobilise their forces. As German troops advanced through Belgium, reports emerged of civilians being executed and entire towns, most famously Leuven, being burned in retaliation for suspected resistance. Whether every allegation was accurate or not, these events became known collectively as the Rape of Belgium and were widely used in Allied propaganda, severely damaging Germany’s international reputation.
Meanwhile, the French launched Plan XVII, an ambitious offensive into Alsace and Lorraine in the belief that aggressive attacks would overwhelm the Germans. Instead, French armies were met by devastating machine-gun and artillery fire during the Battle of the Frontiers. Within weeks, the offensive collapsed with enormous casualties, forcing the French into a general retreat towards Paris.
An illustration of the French attack in the Lorraine offensive
To the north, the small but highly professional British Expeditionary Force (BEF) entered the war alongside France. On 23 August it fought its first major engagement against the Germans at the Battle of Mons. Although heavily outnumbered, British rifle fire inflicted surprising casualties and briefly slowed the German advance. Nevertheless, the BEF was eventually forced to retreat alongside the French, beginning what became known as the Great Retreat. By early September, German armies had advanced to within forty miles of Paris, and it appeared that the Schlieffen Plan was on the verge of delivering the rapid victory Germany had expected.
Instead, the offensive reached its breaking point. Exhausted soldiers had marched hundreds of miles in little over a month, supply lines stretched ever longer, and communication between German armies became increasingly difficult. Crucially, General Alexander von Kluck, commanding Germany’s powerful right wing, altered his line of advance by turning east of Paris rather than sweeping around the city as Schlieffen had envisaged. This exposed a dangerous gap between the German First and Second Armies.
The original intended direction of attack of the Schieffen plan
Recognising the opportunity, the French commander Joseph Joffre ordered a massive counterattack. Reinforced by troops famously transported to the front in hundreds of Parisian taxis, French and British forces struck the exposed German flank during the First Battle of the Marne in early September 1914. Facing encirclement themselves, the Germans withdrew to the River Aisne. The Schlieffen Plan had failed.
Neither side was willing to accept defeat. Instead, both armies repeatedly attempted to outflank one another in a series of manoeuvres known as the Race to the Sea, extending the front further and further north until it reached the Belgian coast. The final major engagement of this race took place at the First Battle of Ypres, where repeated German attacks failed to break the Allied line.
An illustration of Germans surrendering to British Highlander Divisions at Ypres
Unable to outmanoeuvre one another, both sides began digging defensive trenches. Within weeks, a continuous line of earthworks, barbed wire and fortified positions stretched from the English Channel to the Swiss frontier. What many had expected to be a short, decisive war had instead become a brutal war of attrition that would last more than four years and claim millions of lives.
RMS Titanic was the largest ship afloat by the time of her construction in 1912. The second of three in a line of Olympic-class ocean liners, she had passenger accommodation described to be “of unrivalled extent and magnificence,” especially the first-class section, which contained a Grand Staircase, Turkish baths, a pool, and high-end dining, including the luxurious À la Carte Restaurant. Even third-class, despite being less luxurious than second or first-class, was still deemed in higher quality than its contemporary counterparts. White Star Line, the company that created the Olympic-class ships, stated that the class “as far as it is possible to do so, [is] designed to be unsinkable.”
An image of the Titanic setting sail from Southampton
Whilst it was common practice for many companies to claim their ships were unsinkable, White Star Line specifically highlighted the bulkhead system, which was designed in a way that the Titanic could stay afloat with any two adjoining out of its 16 main compartments open to the sea. In addition the height of the bulkhead deck above the water line in flooded condition was well above the requirements, and the vessel would have been able to float with 3 adjoining compartments flooded in 11 of 14 possible combinations. The subdivisions could be sealed from each other with cast iron watertight doors.
The ship, under the command of Captain Edward John Smith, set off on its maiden voyage from Southampton on April 10th, 1912. Almost immediately, the ships bad luck began, when she nearly collided with the SS City of New York while departing the harbour, leading to her departure being delayed by 45 minutes. Eventually, she arrived in Cherbourg, France, to take on more passengers before once again stopping in Queenstown, Ireland, before departing to her final destination of New York City on April 11th. By the time she left the shores of Ireland, she had 892 crew members on board and 1,320 passengers. Among her passengers was Joseph Bruce Ismay, the chairman and managing director of White Star Line, and Thomas Andrews, the managing director of the company that built the Titanic in Ireland. One crew member of note was Harold Bride, one of the wireless operators. The passengers of first-class consisted of some of the richest people in the world whilst third-class consisted of many immigrants seeking a new life in the land of opportunity. Many of these people would not make it to shore.
Last image of the Titanic, taken off the coast of Ireland
Over the next few days, multiple warnings were issued regarding icebergs in the North Atlantic. The last one, on April 14th, was from the German Ship Amerika at around 13:45, and was relayed to Captain Smith by Bride, who claimed that the note was immediately discarded by the bridge without reading. Bride returned to the wireless room and began sending out messages from the passengers once more. At around 18:00, both Ismay and Andrews were in the first-class lounge and smoking rooms, where Ismay had allegedly been showing off the note regarding the iceberg warning. Ismay then retired to his quarters by 21:00 and went to bed. By 23:30, Bride was asleep and the primary operator, Jack Phillips, was operating the Marconi machine, made for radiotelegraphy. In order to receive messages from the distant Cape Race in Newfoundland, Phillips had the machine turned up to maximum volume. However, when the nearby SS Californian notified the Titanic of it stopping due to the ice fields, the high volume meant the message was received incredibly loudly by Phillips. He punched back a rude snarky message, telling the Marconi operator aboard the Californian to keep out of the signal. As most operators were in their mid-twenties, they were used to the friendly abuse they would send each other. The operator aboard the Californian, tired anyway, turned off the machine and went to bed.
Nine minutes later, with the cloudless night and a new moon, vision was limited when lookout Fredrick Fleet spotted an iceberg a mere 500 metres away from the Titanic‘s bow. Fleet cried “Iceberg, right ahead!” This message was quickly relayed to the bridge, who ordered that the Titanic change course towards the starboard side to avoid a head on collision. However, it had just managed to strike the ship below the waterline, breaching the front six compartments of the ship. One passenger is first-class described the noise as sounding “as though someone had drawn a giant finger along the side of the ship.” Around seven minutes after the collision, the crew were ordered to shut down the engines, which was standard procedure after a collision but they also feared that the cold water would combine with the high pressure steam and cause an explosion.
A diagram of the Titanic and its bulkheads. The green lines indicate the damaged areas
The stopping of the usual hum of the engines stirred many from their sleep, including Bride, Andrews and Ismay. Andrews left his quarters and went to investigate the damage sustained to the ship. He determined that at least five of the compartments had been breached by the iceberg, which was more than the ship could sustain and made him the first person to grasp the true severity of the situation. He directly reported this information to Captain Smith, who relayed this information to Bride and Phillips, telling them to send out calls for assistance upon his command. Ismay, who spoke to officers on deck, was informed that the ship had been struck but was not aware of the extent of the damage.
Meanwhile, the nearby Californian, that was closest ship to the Titanic, had its Marconi machine investigated by an officer. Whilst he knew some of morse code, he did not realise the machine was turned off so, when he didn’t hear anything from the other end, concluded that it was not worth checking again for the rest of the night. The Californian‘s Marconi machine was never checked again. When he joined the captain on deck, they observed the Titanic slow and eventually stop before the lights dimmed. When the captain raised concern, the officer explained that the lights were often dimmed on ocean liners in order to get the passengers to sleep and allow the service crew to get an early night in.
A map of the positions of ships in the vicinity of the Titanic
Meanwhile, Andrews informs Smith that the ship may sink within the next hour and a half. Smith then orders Bride and Phillips to begin sending out the distress signal, CQD. Shortly after this, Ismay spoke to Smith, who also warned him of the severity of the situation, whilst officers began to uncover the lifeboats and abandon ship. The crew began waking up passengers and ordering them to put on life jackets and come up to the deck. Many passengers, however, saw this as somewhat silly and took it as a joke to just get in the lifeboats for half an hour or so. The band came on board deck and began playing tunes to keep up spirits. Despite this, both Andrews and Ismay assisted with the evacuation process, prioritising women and children first as a part of official policy. Whilst many other ships were too far away or on the other side of the dangerous ice wall, the RMS Carpathia was 58 nautical miles south of the Titanic‘s position and received a message from Cape Race regarding the ship. The captain, Arthur Rostron, ordered the Carpathia go full steam ahead towards the Titanic‘s position. It would take them three hours to reach the Titanic
Back on board, Bride and Phillips, having switched to the newly introduced SOS signal, were informed by Smith of the true severity of the situation. Meanwhile, distress signals went up in the form of fireworks and lights flashed in morse code. However, the Californian‘s crew determined that they must have been having som kind of party and that the light was just the bobbing of the ships masthead. On deck, the situation escalated. The crew, most of them unfamiliar with emergency lifeboat procedure, did not know how much weight the boats could withstand, as they were designed to immediately ferry passengers to another nearby ship. As a result, many boats were lowered only half full. This was also partially due to some officers that interpreted “women and children first” as women and children only, and would rather launch a half full lifeboat with only women and children aboard than let any men get on. As chaos erupted on the deck, Andrews realised that, due to the company’s decision to reduce the number of lifeboats from 48 to only 16, was nowhere near enough to accommodate even a fraction of the people on board the ship.
An illustration depicting the evacuation on deck
Down below in the ship’s lower quarters, third-class passengers were promised by officers that they would be allowed onto the deck in groups of 50. However, after only three groups went up, the officers allegedly became distracted and left much of the rest of third-class down in the hold. As the radiotelegraphy system was overwhelmed with messages, the signals jammed for several minutes before Bride and Phillips returned to punching SOS messages. However, as water reached the generators, the power on the ship began cutting out and the range of the Marconi machine decreased. Eventually, their transmitter on Cape Race went out of range, meaning that they could no longer send messages on behalf of the Titanic. Whilst trying to communicate with the Carpathia, Phillips received the overpowering message from the German ship Frankfurt, which had a very powerful transmitter. The Frankfurt had been consistently asking the Titanic what was wrong. Whilst Bride and Phillips had initially joked about the stupidity of the operator, it is suggested that this was moment when Phillips lost his rag with the Frankfurt.
You are a fool, [shut up] – [shut up] – [shut up] and keep out
Phillips’ message to the Frankfurt
Phillips left the office and stood on the deck. Whilst he had only felt the ship before, he now saw it. Part of the bow was becoming submerged in the icy waters of the Atlantic. He saw Smith atop the bridge yelling out to the officers to bring the lifeboats back and take on more passengers. Near one of these boats that was about to disembark, Ismay, along side another first-class passenger, allegedly asked if there were any women and children nearby. When they got no response, the pair hopped into the lifeboat and set out to safety. Whilst the passenger who got on with Ismay, William Carter, stated that they had both checked around for any women and children, Carter’s wife described his behaviour aboard the ship as “cruel and barbarous treatment and indignities to the person,” apparently leaving her and their children to fend for themselves aboard the ship. Carter and his wife divorced only two year later.
Drawing from a book criticising Ismay by comparing his survival to a list of notable individuals who perished with the Titanic
This action from Ismay was perceived as a widely controversial one. He was ostracised from London high society life and eventually resigned his position at White Star Line. In a 1943 Nazi propaganda film about the Titanic, he was portrayed as a corrupt British business man, who ordered the Titanic to try and set a transatlantic speed record that led to the collision with the iceberg, a myth that still persists to this day. In actuality, he had briefly consulted the idea of breaking a speed record with Smith but it didn’t go much further. Lord Mersey, who led the 1912 British inquiry on the Titanic, concluded that Ismay had helped many other passengers before finding a place for himself on the last lifeboat to leave the starboard side.
At around 01:50, Smith gave up trying to call back the lifeboats and proceeded to relieve Bride and Phillips of their posts. Whilst Bride got ready, Phillips continued to punch out messages. Noticing him struggling to adjust the machine and send out messages, Bride joined his side again and the pair continued to send out messages. It was also around this time that Andrews was spotted last. The most often cited place for this sighting was in the first-class smoking lounge, with water lapping at his feet whilst in deep thought. He was never seen again.
A portrait of Andrews
After sending one last message to the Carpathia regarding its power capabilities, the ship’s lights turned a sickly red and the Marconi machine died. The ship was now alone, slowly sinking into the icy waters of the Atlantic, with the nearest help two hours away. She would sink under the waves in the next 20 minutes. The Californian had noticed that the Titanic was disappearing below the horizon and an officer attempted to notify the sleeping captain, who merely grunted and rolled over. By the time the officer returned to deck, the Titanic was gone.
Meanwhile, Phillips ordered Bride to retrieve the back-up transmitter before a crew member from the boiler room began throttling Phillips in an attempt to take his life jacket. The pair then proceeded to fight the man, before knocking him to the ground. According to Bride’s account, Phillips then grabbed the wireless key and beat the stoker over the head until the shin deep water inked with blood and the man went limp. Not knowing whether the man was dead or merely unconscious, the pair rushed out to deck. The ship, now with its stern elevated out of the water, had mere minutes left. Bride attempted to assist crewmen in lowering Lifeboat Collapsible B, and spotted Phillips running to the back of the deck. Suddenly, the oars holding the boat slipped, trapping Bride underneath it. Eventually the water lapped up, taking Bride and the boat off the deck and into the icy waters. Meanwhile, port holes created suction that pulled desperate swimmers back into the ship. The collapsing funnel caused a splash that toppled most people from the boat before they scrambled back on.
A depiction of Collapsible B from A Night to Remember
Two minutes before total submersion, the power went out. The area was plunged into total darkness, with what remained of the ship blotting out the stars in the sky. Eventually, the ship split in half, before the rest of the ship was eventually dragged down into the icy depths. In all, it took 2 hours and 40 minutes for the Titanic to sink. Reportedly, Ismay could not watch as she sank beneath the waves.
I had never seen so many shooting stars. I recalled a legend that every time there’s a shooting star, somebody dies
Jean Hippach, 1st Class Survivor
A gif depicting the sinking of the Titanic
Screams of passengers attempting to get onto lifeboats slowly went quiet as they eventually succumbed to hypothermia. On the still upside down Collapsible B, Bride clung to the side, one foot still submerged in water. He informed Charles Lightoller, a second officer, of the incoming Carpathia, who then ordered that the men attempt to balance the boat. However, as the night progressed, the boat continued to sink and the survivors were up to their knees in water. Some, not being able to handle the pain, collapsed and drifted away. Aboard the boat, Lightoller led a speaking of the Lord’s Prayer, before, eventually, the Carpathia arrived at 04:00. Some set off fireworks to signal the ship, some lit pieces of paper whilst one woman reportedly set her hat on fire. Collapsible B merely screamed for help, with Lightoller using his whistle to attract the rescue boats.
Upon being brought aboard, Bride collapsed. Ismay was in deep shock and was uncharacteristically withdrawn. He apparently ate very little and was allegedly sedated by a doctor at one point. Whilst some saw it as avoidance, others saw it as trauma. However, he assisted in compiling lists of survivors. When Bride awoke, he was given one of these lists in order to assist sending out the lists for newspapers. He was distraught to find that Phillips’ name was not on it. Eventually, public inquiries in both the US and Britain were held regarding the disaster. The Senate Inquiry, led by Senator William Alden Smith, determined that the disaster was not unavoidable and that the speed that the Titanic was going at the time should have been slowed due to the warnings that the bridge had received, implicitly blaming Ismay for this decision. It also concluded that the lifeboat provisions were beyond inadequate and that the crew were unskilled to deal with such an evacuation. It also put partial blame on the Californian, for not taking any action even when the Titanic disappeared. Meanwhile, the British Inquiry determined that the speed was standard practice at the time and assigned little personal blame. However, it still determined that evacuation procedure was not up to standards and that the lifeboats were inadequate to save even half of the passengers on board. As a result, maritime regulations were enforced, requiring lifeboats for all individuals on board, 24-hour messenger operation and an Internal Ice Patrol. Both Bride and Ismay testified at the inquiries. In all, over 1,500 died in the sinking of the Titanic. It is, by far, the most well known commercial nautical disaster of all time.
In 1888, London was the largest city on the planet. At the height of the industrial revolution, this was the peak of capitalism, with many factory owners making lots of money very quickly.
A photo of London in the late 19th Century
However, just down the road from where all these rich men lived in Kensington were their workers, who lived in the infamous Victorian London Slums, which were rife with cholera outbreaks, rats and typhoid. Many of the men laboured in the highly dangerous factories to make a living for their family whilst the children were hired as chimney sweeps, where some would get trapped and die. The women sometimes turned to prostitution in order to make a living. One of the most famous of these slums was the expansive district of Whitechapel.
An East End Slum in Whitechapel
On the 31st August 1888 at around 3:40 am, Charles Cross was walking down Buck’s Row in Whitechapel when he saw a woman lying on her back on the ground. He rushed over, to find her hands cold to the touch. Robert Paul came to his side and the two analysed the body. However, not wanting to be late for work, the two men left the scene, hoping to find a police officer on their way. This effort was, thankfully, for naught as 5 minutes later PC John Neil happened upon the same body himself.
Neil, who had a lantern so could see much better, found a large cut across the woman’s throat. It was deemed to be relatively fresh, as the wound was still bleeding and different parts of the body were still warm. Another constable arrived who grabbed a doctor who determined that she had been dead for half an hour, which meant that Cross and Paul found the body only 10 minutes after the murder.
She was quickly rushed to the morgue not long after, where she was identified as Mary Ann Nichols, a 43 year old woman with 6 children who had turned to prostitution in order to get into a lodging house she had been denied from earlier that night. She was last seen, by a close friend, walking down Whitechapel Road, around 800 metres from her murder site, whilst visibly drunk. This was around 2:30, only one hour before her death.
A drawing of Nichols
The doctors determined that there were two slits to the throat as well as a slice across the abdomen and that she had been disembowelled. Whilst no organs had been removed, the doctors still determined that the killer had a decent anatomical knowledge. Many police officers compared it to another murder earlier that month, that being Martha Tabram. Both women were prostitutes, killed incredibly violently and ferociously, had no discernible motive for their respective murders and were around the same age. However, the difference was in the wounds. Whilst Tabram had been repeatedly stabbed, Nichols wounds were more consistent with slashes and slices. Despite this, the police still suspected the two murders of being linked.
On September 8th, a little over a week after the first murder, at 4:45 am, John Richardson was walking along Hanbury Street before making a stop at No. 29. He walked through the house to check the security of the basement door in the back yard before sitting on the back doorstep, where he trimmed a piece of leather from his boot. He then left the premises back through the front door and closed it behind himself, continuing on his walk to work. An hour later, a tenant on the third floor by the name of John Davis walked down stairs. The front door was now wide open but the back door was closed. Davis walked outside only to find the body of a woman lying on her back by the fence in the yard.
A photo of the back yard of 29 Hanbury Street
A doctor and a police officer soon arrived on the scene. The doctor said that she had been “terribly mutilated”. The specifics include a deep cut in her throat and her intestines had been lifted from her body and wrapped around her neck. By the woman’s feet they found a cloth and two combs, which were suspected to be belonging to the victim but had been arranged by the murderer.
At the mortuary she was identified as Annie Chapman, a 47 year old woman, who occupied herself with crochet work, flower selling and casual prostitution on the side. The last official sighting of Chapman was when she was denied lodging at 35 Dorset Street due to insufficient funds. However, at 5:30, a woman named Elizabeth Long saw Chapman conversing with a man just metres away from 29 Hanbury Street. Many suspect that this man, who Long could not see as his back was facing her, was the killer.
A photo of Chapman
However, this creates a conflict, as the doctor determined the time of death was at 4:30. Richardson claimed that when he entered the backyard at 4:45 there was no body, and that it was impossible for him to not have seen it if it was there. The doctor did concede saying that he mainly judged the time of death based off the temperature of the body, which could’ve been effected by the cold night. This would place Chapman’s death between 5:30 and 5:45 in the morning. However, this creates a chilling reality, where, with the dim light of dawn slowly creeping through the streets, the residents of 29 Hanbury Street would have had an unobstructed view of the murder. However, no-one was reported as having observed the murder.
At the mortuary, marks were discovered on her fingers, consistent with someone aggressively taking off a ring. Other parts of the abdomen were removed and not found, including Chapman’s womb. Doctor’s determined that, because of this, the killer must have some kind of anatomical knowledge, whether that be a surgeon, a medical student or a butcher.
Many in Whitechapel began to question the competence of the police, despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them. In an attempt to stop the attacks, a man named George Lusk established the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, a vigilante task force set on hunting down the killer. Due to a leather apron being found at the scene of Chapman’s murder, newspapers began to suspect that a Jewish man was behind the attacks, due to a Polish Jewish boot maker in Whitechapel named John Pizer often being characterised by his leather apron. The Vigilance Committee began to severely harass Jewish Businesses.
A cartoon depicting a police man playing Blind Man’s Bluff, attempting to demonstrate their incompetance
The newspapers whipped the people up into a frenzy, which encouraged many people to write into the police offices and newspapers claiming to be the murderer. Many of these were dismissed as pranks or false allegations. However, one sent to the Central News Agency in London caught their eye. The letter, which arrived on the 27th of September, read as follows in bright red ink.
Dear Boss,
I keep on hearing the Police have caught me, but they won’t fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shan’t quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now? I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with, but it went thick like glue and I can’t use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. ha. The next job I do I shall clip the lady’s ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn’t you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good Luck. Yours truly Jack the Ripper
Don’t mind me giving the trade name
PS Wasn’t good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it. No luck yet. They say I’m a doctor now. ha ha
The letter sent to the Central News Agency
The name at the bottom of the letter would ring throughout history as one of if not the most famous serial killer of all time. The Agency forwarded this to the police, who were more skeptical. However, their opinion would soon change.
On September 29th, just two days after the “Dear Boss” Letter, 40 Berner Street was holding a meeting for the Socialist Club. The meeting came to a close and some chose to stay and drink. At half past midnight, Joseph Lave used the side entrance, which led into Dutfields Yard, to grab some fresh air. He lingered for 10 minutes, facing into Berner Street before retreating into the building. Moments later a man named Morris Eagle, who was a member of the club and had come back after escorting a woman home, turned right off Berner Street into Dutfields Yard and used the same entrance into No. 40.
A map of the street
Barely 20 minutes went by before a horse and carriage, driven by Louis Diemschutz, made the same turn that Eagle did, turning right into Dutfields Yard off Burner Street. However, once he entered the yard, the horse veered to the left. He looked down and saw the body of a woman lying by the wall. He went inside to check on his wife before a small crowd gathered outside. They determined that the woman was dead and then dispersed to find a police officer.
The name of the victim was Elizabeth Stride, a 44 year old cleaner and prostitute. She had been spotted 3 times through out the night with a man described as having a “respectable appearance” the last one of these being at around 12:35, about 25 minutes before the body was found.
A photo of Stride
The most notable sighting was by Israel Schwartz, who spotted a man violently shoving a woman at the entrance of Dutfields Yard. Schwartz crossed the street, deciding to not intervene, before the man yelled “Lipski”, a Jewish slur, which encouraged another man to follow Schwartz for quite some distance. Whether this was a co-conspirator or the man was simply frightened too and happened to walk down the same way as Schwartz is up to interpretation. This occurred only 5 minutes before the body was discovered and it is believed that the woman was Stride and the man shoving her was the killer.
She did not have as many brutal wounds as the other victims, with just a slit of her throat, which lead many to believe that she was not actually a victim of the Ripper. However, what many believe is that when Diemschutz rolled his cart down Dutfields Yard, he had inadvertently interrupted the murder, and the murderer had hidden at the end of the alleyway. Once Diemschutz went inside to check on his wife, it is believed that the murder slipped out of the yard and went on the hunt for another victim.
Later that night, at around 1:45, PC Edward Watkins discovered another body on his patrol route around the area of Mitre Square, only 15 minutes away from Dutfields Yard. She was taken to the mortuary and identified as Catherine Eddowes, a 46 year old street vendor and prostitute. Eddowes had been jailed earlier that night, for being so drunk she collapsed on the pavement, and was not released until 1 in the morning. 35 minutes later, she was spotted in the company of a man near an entrance to Mitre Square.
A drawing of Eddowes
The post mortem found that she too had been disembowelled, with some of her organs being removed, most notably her womb and her left kidney, reinforcing their theory that the killer had decent anatomical knowledge. What was also notable was that there had been a small incision made on her left earlobe. This indicated that the murderer was attempting to cut Eddowes’ ear off, as detailed in the letter, before he was, once again, interrupted. This was somewhat confirmed by a postcard sent 2 days later. Whilst it was much shorter than the letter sent on the 27th, many detectives still believed this to be from the actual killer, as it was written before any information about the two murders had been released to the public or the press.
I was not codding dear old boss when I gave you the tip, you’ll hear about Saucy Jacky’s work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldn’t finish straight off. Had not got time to get ears off for police thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.
The postcard sent to the Central News Agency
In addition, two blocks away from Mitre Square, a piece of blood stained cloth was found on the pavement, which was found to be a part of Eddowes’ apron that she was wearing. Above it, in large sprawling text on the wall, was written:
The Juwes are the men that will not be blamed for nothing
The graffito found on Goulston Street.
A cartoon depicting the discovery of the writing
The meaning of this is heavily debated. Was it written by the killer in an attempt to divert attention away or towards the Jewish Community of London? Was it just discarded there by chance under to some anti-semitic graffito by someone who wasn’t the killer? To this day, no-one knows the answer to any of these questions. No matter what the case was, Commissioner Charles Warren ordered it to be removed for fear of civil unrest.
A final confirmed letter was sent to George Lusk on the 16th of October and was redirected to the police force after its arrival. It appeared as though the handwriting was much worse than the previous two, as well as the spelling. However, some suspect that this was done on purpose to throw the police off to make the killer seem uneducated.
From hell.
Mr Lusk, Sir I send you half the Kidne I took from one women prasarved it for you tother piece I fried and ate it was very nice. I may send you the bloody knife that took it out if you only wate a while longer signed
Catch me when you can Mishter Lusk
A photo of the “From Hell” letter
With the letter there was a parcel which, as the letter described, contained half a human kidney. There was no way of confirming, however, if this was actually Eddowes’ kidney or something that a medical student had done as a prank. Whatever the case may be, this is what many believe to be the final letter from Jack the Ripper, and there was relative peace in London for quite some time. For over a month, not a single murder was reported and many believed that the Ripper had simply stopped.
[I]t daily becomes evident that the Whitechapel murderer has gone out of business [and i]t is pretty certain that, despite […] the bravado exhibited by Jack the Ripper in his recent letter, the monster has become frightened at the magnitude of the police arrangements for his detection and has suspended his horrible work for the present, if not for good.
The Dunkirk Observer Journal, October 29th, 1888
In the property of Millers Court on November 9th, 1888, landlord John McCarthy had noticed that the tenant of number 13, one Mary Jane Kelly, had fallen behind on her rent. At around 10:45 am, he instructed his assistant, Thomas Bowyer, to collect the money. Bowyer knocked on the door twice and, after receiving no response, decided to peer through the window to see if Kelly was home. After seeing what was inside he quickly ran to his boss and summoned him to look upon the horror in 13 Miller’s Court.
The sight we saw I cannot drive away from my mind. It looked more like the work of a devil than of a man. [Kelly]’s body was lying on the bed undressed. She had been completely disembowelled, and her entrails had been taken out and placed on the table. It was those that I had seen when I looked through the window, and took to be lumps of flesh. The woman’s nose had been cut off, and her face gashed and mutilated so that she was quite beyond recognition. Both her breasts, too, had been cut clean away, and placed by the side of her liver, and other entrails on the table. I had heard a great deal about the Whitechapel murders, but I declare to God I had never expected to see such a sight as this. The body was, of course, covered with blood, and so was the bed. The whole scene is more than I can describe, I hope I may never see such a sight again.
John McCarthy’s testimony he gave to the press
Kelly was the youngest victim. She was somewhere in her mid twenties and was, up until the start of the month, cohabitating with a man named Joseph Barnett, who had split with Kelly on the 30th of October, due his disapproval of her life as a prostitute as well as the circles she hung around with.
A drawing of Mary Jane Kelly
Kelly was seen by Barnett in 13 Millers Court on the evening of November 8th, the former of which was in the company of a woman who was on her way out the door. Whilst many accounts conflict on this, Barnett claims he arrived anywhere between 7:00 and 7:45 and left before 9:00. At 11:45, Kelly’s neighbour spotted her entering her home with a man, whilst she was in a drunken state. She was heard singing by this same neighbour and was still singing by the time the neighbour left Miller’s Court at 1am.
It is then alleged that she left Miller’s Court and met up with George Hutchinson, asking for some spare coins as the two were well acquainted. When Hutchinson told Kelly he had no spare money, she walked down the street and was spotted in the company of a well dressed man by Hutchinson. Believing the presence of a well dressed man in the accompaniment of a woman like Kelly to be strange, he scrutinised the appearance of the man.
The central figure aligns with Hutchinson’s description of the man
Hutchinson then shadowed the couple up to Miller’s Court, whereupon the man gave Kelly a red handkerchief before being invited inside. The detail about the red handkerchief matches up with the testimony of the last person to see Eddowes alive, who described the man he sighted as having a “reddish handkerchief” tied around his neck. Hutchinson then stuck around for around an hour before leaving.
Once Kelly’s neighbour returned, at around 3:00, there was now no sound or light coming from Kelly’s room. At 4:00, the residents above and across from Kelly heard “cries of murder” from nearby, whilst other residents heard absolutely nothing at all. Doctors were unsure where to place the time of death as, despite Hutchinson’s testimony, some believe that he embellished the truth or simply lied in order to gain more public attention. The certainty was not helped by the fact that some witnesses described seeing and even speaking to her as late as 8 or 10 o’clock on the morning of November 9th.
These 5 murders described above are the suspected “Canonical Five” Victims. Whilst there were some murders in the area before and some since, these are usually the ones collectively agreed upon as the murders that were committed by Jack the Ripper. To this day, the case still remains unsolved. With hundreds upon hundreds of suspects, ranging from Charles Cross, who discovered the body of Nichols, to Lewis Carroll, the writer of Alice in Wonderland, the case will likely never be solved. Even with all these advances in modern science, with some DNA tests being conducted on cloth samples, this one simple question can not be answered nearly 200 years later.
Who was Jack the Ripper?
A cartoon depicting the nearly impossible manhunt for Jack the Ripper
By the middle of the nineteenth century, the British Empire ruled the world’s largest navy and possessed trading networks that stretched across the globe. Yet one geographical mystery remained unsolved. Merchants travelling from Europe to the markets of East Asia still had to sail around either the southern tip of Africa or South America, journeys that could take many months. If a navigable sea route could be found through the Arctic islands north of Canada, it would dramatically shorten travel times and become one of the most valuable trade routes in the world. This elusive route became known as the Northwest Passage.
A map of trade routes before 1845
For centuries, explorers had searched for it. Some returned empty-handed. Others never returned at all. By the 1840s, however, many believed that only a small section of the route remained unmapped. The British Admiralty decided that one final expedition might complete the puzzle.
To lead it, they selected Sir John Franklin. At fifty-nine years old, Franklin was one of Britain’s most experienced Arctic explorers. He had served in the Royal Navy during the Napoleonic Wars and had already led several expeditions into the Canadian Arctic. His record was mixed. During an overland expedition in 1819–1822, his men had suffered extreme starvation, becoming so desperate that they resorted to eating scraps of leather from their boots. The ordeal earned Franklin the nickname “the man who ate his boots”. Nevertheless, he was widely respected within the Navy for his determination, leadership and ability to maintain morale under the harshest conditions.
A photo of John Franklin
The expedition he was given in 1845 was the most advanced polar venture Britain had ever attempted. Two bomb vessels of the Royal Navy, HMS Erebus and HMS Terror, were selected for the mission. Both ships had already proven themselves in Antarctic exploration and were specially reinforced for service in Arctic ice. Their hulls were strengthened with additional timber and iron plating, while their interiors were fitted with steam heating systems to make life more bearable during the long polar winters. Each vessel was also equipped with a converted steam engine and retractable propeller, giving them a limited ability to manoeuvre independently of the wind.
In addition, the expedition also served as a showcase for several of Britain’s newest technologies. If the propellors needed fixing they would use the new invention of the diving suit to go down and break the ice with a stick. They also brought canned food onto ships, in order to cut down on contractions of scurvy, a disease brought about by lack of Vitamin C in a diet, a very common plight for sailors. In order to preserve the crew’s mental health, books, sports equipment and even costumes for theatre productions were brought aboard. A total of 129 officers and sailors were chosen, many of them experienced seamen who believed they were embarking on a voyage that would secure their place in history.
A drawing of HMS Erebus and HMS Terror
On 19 May 1845, the Erebus and Terror departed from Greenhithe in Kent to cheering crowds. The mood was optimistic. The ships represented the very best of British naval engineering, commanded by one of the Empire’s most celebrated explorers. Few doubted that Franklin would return as the man who finally discovered the Northwest Passage. Instead, neither he nor a single member of his expedition would ever be seen alive again.
Around a month into the expedition, they stopped in Greenland, to gather more supplies, send letters home from the crew and send 5 men back who had contracted illnesses. In late July of 1845, two whaling ships spotted the Erebus and Terror entering Baffin Bay. This was the final confirmed sighting of the expedition.
A map of the area the expedition was set to travel through
As 1846 turned into 1847, and 1847 into 1848, there was still no sign of the Erebus or Terror. At first, few people were alarmed. Arctic expeditions were expected to disappear from civilisation for years at a time, and Franklin had carried enough provisions to sustain his men through multiple winters. Yet as the months passed, anxiety began to grow.
No one was more concerned than Franklin’s wife, Lady Jane Franklin. Convinced that something had gone wrong, she repeatedly pressured the Admiralty to launch a search expedition. Officials initially hesitated, believing that Franklin was simply trapped by ice and would eventually return. Lady Franklin refused to accept inaction. She organised a public campaign, appealed to newspapers, lobbied politicians and wealthy patrons, and transformed the search for her husband into a national cause. Under mounting public pressure, the Admiralty finally authorised a series of search expeditions in 1848.
A portrait of Lady Jane Franklin
For two years, ships combed the Arctic with little success. Then, in August 1850, searchers made their first major discovery on the bleak shores of Beechey Island. There they found the remains of a winter camp and three neatly marked graves. The headstones identified the dead as John Torrington, William Braine and John Hartnell, all members of Franklin’s expedition who had died during the winter of 1845-1846. The discovery revealed that Franklin’s ships had spent their first winter sheltering at Beechey Island, waiting for the sea ice to thaw before continuing southward. Although only three men had died, the graves were the first concrete evidence that the expedition had reached the Arctic and that not everything had gone according to plan.
More than a century later, in the 1980s, the three bodies were exhumed by archaeologists. Preserved by the permafrost, they were found in an extraordinary state of conservation, providing researchers with a rare glimpse into the expedition’s early hardships. Scientific analysis revealed signs of pneumonia, tuberculosis and severe physical stress. Investigators also detected unusually high levels of lead in the remains, leading to speculation that the crew may have suffered from lead poisoning, possibly from the ships’ water systems or the solder used in food tins. Modern researchers continue to debate how significant a role lead played in the disaster, but it is widely accepted that malnutrition, disease and the extreme Arctic environment were all major factors.
The graves on Beechey Island. The fourth one, furthest left, is for a member of the search party
The most important discovery came nearly a decade later. In 1859, a search party led by Captain Francis McClintock found a cairn – a mound of stones used as a marker – on the northwest coast of King William Island, more than four hundred miles south of Beechey Island. Hidden inside was a written message from the expedition, the only official communication ever recovered from Franklin’s men after they disappeared into the Arctic.
H.M.S.hips Erebus and Terror Wintered in the Ice in Lat. 70°5’N Long. 98°23’W Having wintered in 1846-7 [sic] at Beechey Island in Lat 74°43’28’’N Long 91°39’15’’W
After having ascended Wellington Channel to Lat 77° and returned by the West side of Cornwallis Island. Sir John Franklin commanding the Expedition. All well. Party consisting of 2 Officers and 6 Men left the ships on Monday 24th May 1847.
Charles Frederick Des Voeux and Graham Gore (officers on the ships) May 28th, 1847
A drawing of the search party finding the cairn
However, they found in the margins a very different message than the one claiming everything was fine a year prior.
HMShips Terror and Erebus were deserted on the 22nd April 5 leagues NNW of this having been beset since 12th Sept 1846.
The officers and crews consisting of 105 souls under the command of Captain F. R. M. Crozier landed here — in Lat. 69°37’42’’ Long. 98°41’
This paper was found by Lt. Irving under the cairn supposed to have been built by Sir James Ross in 1831 — 4 miles to the Northward — where it had been deposited by the late Commander Gore in May June 1847.
Sir James Ross’ pillar has not however been found and the paper has been transferred to this position which is that in which Sir J. Ross’ pillar was erected.
Sir John Franklin died on the 11th of June 1847 and the total loss by deaths in the Expedition has been to this date 9 officers and 15 men.
Francis Cozier, April 25th 1848
And start on tomorrow 26th for Backs Fish River
James Fitzjames, April 25th 1848
The message found at King William Island revealed the expedition’s final known movements. Sometime after leaving Beechey Island in 1846, the Erebus and Terror had become trapped in pack ice off the northwest coast of King William Island. There they remained, unable to break free. Modern climate research suggests that the Franklin Expedition encountered an unusually severe period of Arctic ice, leaving even their heavily reinforced ships helpless.
An illustration of the ships frozen in the ice
The situation steadily deteriorated. On 11 June 1847, Sir John Franklin died, although the cause remains unknown. By the spring of 1848, a further twenty-four officers and sailors had also perished. With no prospect of the ships escaping the ice, Captain Francis Crozier and Captain James Fitzjames made a desperate decision. On 22 April 1848, the surviving 105 men abandoned the Erebus and Terror and set out on foot for the Canadian mainland.
The journey ahead was brutal. The men were hundreds of miles from the nearest permanent settlement and faced some of the harshest conditions on Earth. Contemporary evidence suggests they hauled heavy sledges loaded with boats, food and supplies across the frozen landscape, hoping to reach the Back River and eventually find rescue. None of them succeeded.
A painting of the men pulling the boats south
For years afterwards, the fate of the survivors remained a mystery. Then, in 1854, explorer John Rae returned from the Arctic with a disturbing account. During his travels, he spoke with local Inuit communities who possessed silverware, tools and other items that could be traced directly to Franklin’s expedition. More importantly, they described encountering groups of starving white men moving south and later discovering camps littered with bodies. Some of the remains, they claimed, showed signs that the dead had been cut apart for food.
Victorian Britain reacted with horror. Many people simply refused to believe the story. The idea that Royal Navy sailors could have resorted to cannibalism seemed incompatible with contemporary notions of British discipline and civilisation. Among the most vocal critics was Charles Dickens, who publicly dismissed the Inuit testimony and defended the reputation of Franklin’s men.
We submit that the memory of the lost Arctic voyagers is placed, by reason and experience, high above the taint of this so easily-allowed connection; and that the noble conduct and example of such men, and of their own great leader himself, under similar endurances, belies it, and outweighs by the weight of the whole universe the chatter of a gross handful of uncivilised people, with domesticity of blood and blubber.
Charles Dickens writing in his public journal, 1854
An illustration of Dickens from 1842
More than a century later, however, archaeology largely vindicated the Inuit’s account. During excavations conducted in the late twentieth century, researchers examined human remains recovered from King William Island. Many of the bones bore unmistakable cut marks made by knives. Others had been broken open in ways consistent with extracting marrow, a practice commonly associated with extreme starvation. The evidence suggested that, in their final days, at least some members of the expedition resorted to cannibalism in a desperate attempt to survive.
By then, it no longer mattered. Every member of the Franklin Expedition was dead. What had begun as Britain’s most ambitious Arctic voyage had ended as one of the greatest disasters in the history of exploration.
A 1945 photo of skulls discovered on King William Island, believed to belong to the Franklin Expedition’s crew
Not a single member of the Franklin Expedition ever returned home. For more than 175 years, historians, archaeologists and Inuit communities have worked together to piece together the fate of the 129 men who vanished into the Arctic. New discoveries continue to emerge even today, including the identification of additional remains and the recovery of artefacts from the wrecks of the Erebus and Terror, which were finally located in 2014 and 2016 respectively.
Ironically, the expedition’s greatest achievement came after its destruction. The numerous search missions launched to find Franklin mapped vast stretches of the Canadian Arctic and ultimately confirmed the existence of the Northwest Passage that he had set out to navigate. Although Franklin himself never lived to complete the journey, the knowledge gained from his expedition and the searches that followed helped solve one of the greatest geographical mysteries of the nineteenth century. In Victorian Britain, Franklin and his men came to be remembered not as failures, but as explorers who had pushed further into the unknown than any who came before them. Whether remembered as a tale of courage, tragedy, hubris or endurance, the story of the Franklin Expedition remains one of the most compelling mysteries in the history of exploration.
They Forged the Last Link with Their Lives
The words on the base of a statue of Franklin in Waterloo Place
The statue of Franklin on Waterloo Place in London
Napoleon returned to Paris from his campaign in Italy and was lauded as a hero. His campaign was so successful that the French Government believed that Napoleon was capable of an invasion of mainland Britain. However, as the War of the Second Coalition broke out, Napoleon soon realised that the French Navy was nowhere near powerful enough to take on the powerful Royal Navy. Instead, he decided to take out Britain’s supply line to India by taking control of Ottoman Controlled Egypt, whilst also securing the Sultan of the Indian Mysore Kingdom as a potential ally.
By 1798, Napoleon was elected to the French Academy of Sciences, after which he went to Egypt with 40,000 soldiers, and a collection of 167 scientists, mathematicians, naturalists, chemists and geodesists. However, on the way there, he managed to capture Malta, then under the control of The Order of St John of Jerusalem. They put up little fight and Napoleon only lost 3 men. On July 1st of 1798, Napoleon’s forces landed in Alexandria. They combatted the Ottomans on multiple occasions, most notably at the Battle of the Pyramids, which was located approximately 24km (15 miles) from the Great Pyramids of Giza. In the battle, there was less than 30 French casualties compared to the nearly 2,000 they inflicted.
A painting of the Battle of the Pyramids (July 21st, 1798)
Despite this increase to French morale, disaster struck when Admiral Horatio Nelson destroyed or captured all but 2 out of 17 French Ships in the Battle of the Nile. After this decisive loss in the Mediterranean Campaign, Napoleon travelled north to Damascus with 13,000 men, capturing the port towns of Gaza, Arish, Haifa and Jaffa. Most notably, Napoleon noticed that, when he attacked Jaffa, the defenders were largely made of Albanian prisoners of war on parole. As a result, when he conquered the town, he ordered the garrison to be executed by bayonet and drowning. Then, all the men, women and children were pillaged, murdered or raped for 2 days and nights.
Napoleon’s army eventually reached the city of Acre. Believing it to be an easy victory, Napoleon decided to only use infantry to attack the city, believing that they would capitulate easily. He believed it would only take two weeks to capture the city before he would then march on Jerusalem. However, after one and a half months, the city stood firm. Many believe this was in part due to the large Albanian population of the city, fearing that they may share the same fate as Jaffa if they fell. Not only that but the British came in to assist, supplying the city’s defences with fresh sailors and marines, and sunk multiple French siege artillery ships. Once the French forces had finally managed to make a break through the wall of the city they discovered that the defenders had built a much deeper wall within. A cold, hungry and plague ridden French Army eventually retreated on May 21st, 1799, after a two month long siege.
A painting of the Siege of Acre (March 20th – May 21st 1799)
Napoleon returned to Egypt, having lost over 5,000 men in the siege, 2,000 of whom had succumbed to the bubonic plague. After this humiliating defeat, Napoleon decided to return to France without his army, fearing that the French Republic may soon collapse. Or was it perhaps him taking advantage of an opportunity?
