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This is the moment when we find out just how mad a king Donald is

Irish Times

a day ago

Entertainment
Irish Times

This is the moment when we find out just how mad a king Donald is

Maybe the mad king, the other one, wasn't so mad after all. 'George III is Abraham Lincoln compared to Trump,' said Rick Atkinson, who is vivifying the Revolutionary War in his mesmerising histories The British are Coming and The Fate of the Day. The latter, the second book in a planned trilogy, has been on the New York Times bestseller list for six weeks and is being devoured by lawmakers on Capitol Hill. As the 'No Kings' resistance among Democrats bristles, and as President Trump continues to defy limits on executive power, it is instructive to examine comparisons of President Trump to George III. 'George isn't the 'royal brute' that Thomas Paine calls him in Common Sense,' Atkinson told me. 'He's not the 'tyrant' that Jefferson calls him in the Declaration of Independence, and he's not the sinister idiot who runs across the stage in Hamilton every night singing You'll Be Back.' READ MORE ('And when push comes to shove, I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love!') Yes, George III had manic episodes that scared people – depicted in Alan Bennett's The Madness of George III, a play made into a movie with Nigel Hawthorne and Helen Mirren. Palace aides are unnerved when the king's urine turns blue. 'He was in a straitjacket for a while, that's how deranged he was,' Atkinson said. 'His last 10 years were spent at Windsor, basically in a cell. He went blind and deaf. He had long white hair, white beard.' This is a poisonous moment for our country, with Trump unleashing our military on American citizens and letting ICE officers rough up Democratic lawmakers King George was relentless about his runaway child: America. 'He's ruthless,' Atkinson explained, 'because he believes that if the American colonies are permitted to slip away, it will encourage insurrections in Ireland, in Canada, the British Sugar Islands, the West Indies, in India, and it'll be the beginning of the end of the first British empire, which has just been created. And it's not going to happen on his watch.' Unlike Trump, who loves to wallow in gilt and repost king memes and rhapsodise about God's divine plan for him, George III did not flout the rule of law. 'The stereotype of him as an ogre is not historically true,' Atkinson said. 'He's called Farmer George because he's interested in agronomy and writes essays on manure.' The historian added: 'You can dislike him, but he's not a reactionary autocrat. He is very attentive to the requirements imposed on him as a consequence of the reforms in the 17th century, where he must be attentive to both houses of parliament. 'He's a child of the Enlightenment. He is a major supporter of both the arts and the sciences.' He plays the harpsichord and the organ and he's a great patron of the theatre.' (And doesn't try to co-opt it or force people to watch Cats.) Unlike Trump, Atkinson said, George III is not a narcissist: 'He's very committed to the realm, to his family. He marries this obscure, drab German princess, Charlotte, as in Charlottesville, Virginia, and Charlotte, North Carolina. They marry six hours after they meet. She learns to play God Save the King on the harpsichord on the voyage from Germany to England. He has the marriage bedroom decorated with 700 yards of blue damask and large basins of goldfish. 'Because, as you know, nothing says 'I love you' like a bowl of goldfish. He's devoted to her through 15 kids.' Atkinson said the only similarity between the pious monarch and the impious monarch manqué is 'the use of the military against their own people to enforce the king's will. There are incidents, the Boston Massacre, the Boston Tea Party.' He added: 'This proclivity for using armed forces for domestic suppression of dissent. That's a slippery slope in this country. It led to an eight-year war when George did it, and Lord knows where it's going to lead this time.' This is a poisonous moment for our country, with Trump unleashing our military on American citizens and letting ICE officers rough up Democratic lawmakers. He's still posting, madly, about the 2020 election being 'a total FRAUD,' and now he's calling for a special prosecutor to look into it. With the juvenile delinquent Pete Hegseth leading our military, Trump is recklessly jousting with Iran and threatening to assassinate the Iranian leader. The former opponent of forever wars in the Middle East is debating dropping bombs in the Middle East without military provocation against the United States – which did not work out well for us in the past – and dragging us into another unpredictable, interminable war. We find this truth to be self-evident: this is the moment when we find out just how mad a king Donald Trump is. Atkinson concedes he is as mystified as the rest of us by Trump's affinity for 'those who aren't bound by the rules by which we insist our leaders be bound. The fact that we're looking for a monarch to draw parallels to him is telling in and of itself, because that's not what we do. That's what the whole shooting match was about in the 1770s.' This article originally appeared in The New York Times

New York Times

2 days ago

Politics
New York Times

Who's the Mad King Now?

How the U.S. Army was born - and a free nation realized

CBS News

15-06-2025

General
CBS News

How the U.S. Army was born - and a free nation realized

A relic of the American Revolution is delicately ushered into the National Museum of the United States Army, at Fort Belvoir, Va. It's the First Rhode Island Regimental Flag. "And if it could talk, the stories it would tell," said Paul Morando, who has spent four years putting together this exhibit to honor the Army's 250th anniversary. The flag – so faded you could hardly tell it's a flag – was at Valley Forge, and then carried by soldiers at Yorktown. "This flag has not left the state of Rhode Island since 1784," said Morando. "We actually had to change the law to allow this flag to come out of the state and be put on display." The First Rhode Island Regiment's flag, brought to the National Museum of the United States Army, to be part of its exhibit, "Call to Arms: The Soldier and the Revolutionary War." CBS News As precious as the flag may be, what catches the eye is the life-like figures of real people who won the war for America's independence. "Our focus is on the individual soldiers' experience, what they sacrificed and why they fought," said Morando. Beginning with Sylvanus Wood, who fought the British at Lexington and Concord – the famous "Shot Heard 'Round the World." "It's the moment of no return," said Morando. "We are in it now, and it's only going to get worse after this." Crown Pulitzer Prize-winning historian Rick Atkinson has just published "The Fate of the Day," the second volume of his planned trilogy on the Revolutionary War, beginning when American militiamen took the field at Lexington and Concord. "It's the beginning of the war; it's the beginning of the country, actually," Atkinson said. "They are weekend warriors. They are soldiers who turn out once every few weeks to practice the manual of arms, to learn how to load a musket." They were facing British forces – professional soldiers with professional officers. Atkinson said of the King's military, "Men enlist in the army for life, usually. So, these are troops that know their business." The headline in the local paper called what happened next "Bloody butchery." "It's a long, brutal day for both sides, but particularly for the British," Atkinson said. "There are bodies all the way from Concord to Boston." The Americans had sent a message. "The Americans show that even though they're not the professional force that the British are, that they know how to fight, they know how to use weapons, and they know how to kill," Atkinson said. Two months later, the Continental Congress voted to replace the part-time militias with a full-time army. Why, if the militias had given the British more than they could handle, was an army necessary? "For one thing, they've got jobs," Atkinson said. "They're farmers, they're tradesmen. They've got families to take care of. You need to make this army into a force that can take on the British full-time." It was June 14, 1775, the birth date of the United States Army. It would be, Atkinson said, "the central institution that is going to determine whether or not the United States of America really does become a country." The commander of the new army is known today as the father of our country. Morando said, "It's hard to imagine what the Revolutionary War would have been like without George Washington." Atkinson called Washington "the indispensable man," based on "his ability to stay the course, to believe in the cause, to transmit his belief in the cause to the soldiery." Washington told his troops: "The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army." "He's got a vision – he refers to generations yet unborn," Atkinson said. "That would be us." In the summer of 1776, the Declaration of Independence was just a piece of parchment. Said Morando, "It was up to our soldiers to fight and secure that independence." In New York, a British force of 32,000 attacked Washington's new American Army – the first battle after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Morando said, "A lot is riding on this. He understands that if he loses this battle, he possibly could lose the war and the revolution itself." The British troops came ashore on Long Island, where Washington had dug in. "The British devise a plan in which they outflank him," said Atkinson. "It's a catastrophe. He nearly loses the whole game at this point." Washington barely escaped with his army, retreating across the Delaware River into Pennsylvania. He wrote to his brother: "I think the game is pretty near up." I asked, "What's so 'indispensable' about that performance?" Atkinson replied, "People were beginning to wonder, frankly, does this guy have the right stuff? He's going to show that, among other things, he's very bold, and when he is desperate, he's dangerous." In an act of daring immortalized in American history, Washington crossed back over the Delaware and caught the enemy by surprise. The British had lost their chance to destroy the American Army, and Washington would fight on for seven more years. B.J. Ervik directed a team of artists who recreated the sacrifice of those years, down to the bloody knuckles of Sergeant Major William Seymour recording the day's events in his journal. Ervik said, "I think that's a very reflective moment for somebody who might have just been in battle for a few days, and has a moment to reflect on what he's doing in life and what is happening around him." A figure representing Sergeant Major William Seymour, in a diorama at the National Museum of the United States Army. CBS News Retired Army Lt. Col. Alayne Conway posed for the figure of Anna Lane, handing a cartridge to her wounded husband. Passing the ammunition, you can see in her eyes the British are coming. "Wow! It's pretty powerful," said Conway. "I really see how strong she was." A figure representing Anna Maria Lane, who fought alongside her husband, John Wood, and was recognized for her military service. CBS News Leaders of today's Army got a VIP tour of their origin story, leading up to an audio-visual display of the battle at Yorktown, Virginia, where British troops finally surrendered. Dismissed early in the war as amateurs, the soldiers of the American Army withstood every hardship and challenge – and stood victorious. Through 1,300 battles and skirmishes, the Army had outlasted the British Empire. As American Major General Nathaniel Greene was quoted as saying, "We fight, get beat, rise, and fight again." Atkinson said, "One of the lessons we should take from the Revolution is we're capable of doing extraordinary things and overcoming extraordinary odds to get where we want to go." I asked, "It was nasty, brutish, and long. Should we so revere this war?" "I think we should revere what came out of it, and we should revere the sacrifices that went into it," Atkinson replied. "The creation of the American Republic – it's one of mankind's greatest achievements. And how can we not be proud of that?" The last thing one sees upon leaving this exhibit is a quote from Founding Father John Adams, and it is addressed to us: "You will never know how much it cost the present generation to preserve your freedom! I hope you will make a good use of it." READ AN EXCERPT: "The Fate of the Day" by Rick Atkinson For more info: Story produced by Mary Walsh. Editor: George Pozderec.

Book excerpt: "The Fate of the Day" by Rick Atkinson

CBS News

13-06-2025

General
CBS News

Book excerpt: "The Fate of the Day" by Rick Atkinson

Crown We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article. Following the introductory volume of his "Revolution Trilogy," 2019's "The British Are Coming," historian Rick Atkinson presents Volume Two, "The Fate of the Day: The War for America, Fort Ticonderoga to Charleston, 1777-1780" (Crown). He details the middle years of the War for Independence, in which George Washington's Army barely escaped annihilation by the forces wielded by King George III, leading to epic battles at Brandywine, Saratoga, Monmouth, and Charleston. Read an excerpt below, and don't miss David Martin's interview with Rick Atkinson on "CBS Sunday Morning" June 15! "The Fate of the Day" by Rick Atkinson Prefer to listen? Audible has a 30-day free trial available right now. The March of Annihilation Fort Ticonderoga, New York, July–August 1777 A rattle of drums at four a.m. on July 1, 1777, roused the British encampment at Crown Point, on the western lip of Lake Champlain. Soldiers stumbled from their tents, shrugged on their uniform coats, and gobbled down a cold breakfast with the indifference of men who expected no better. For the past fortnight the invasion force of eight thousand troops had sailed and rowed south for a hundred miles, from the Richelieu River in Quebec to within fifteen miles of the American stronghold at Fort Ticonderoga. Through mischance and rebel defiance, many of these same redcoats had failed to capture the fortress eight months earlier, despite standing at the gates. Now the prize again lay within grasp, and this time they intended to win through. "We are to contend for the king and the constitution of Great Britain, to vindicate law and to relieve the oppressed," orders issued the previous evening proclaimed. "This army must not retreat." By five a.m., the sun had crested the great shoulders of the Green Mountains to the east, gilding the craggy Adirondacks in the west. Platoon after platoon scuffed down to the shoreline to clamber aboard gunboats, longboats, and six-oared, flat-bottomed bateaux. Shouted orders carried across the lake, along with the creak of capstans and oarlocks. Soon the first vessels pulled away from the anchorage, to assemble mid-lake in battle formation. Army musicians caught the moment and struck up martial airs. "The music and drums of the different regiments were continually playing," a Royal Artillery lieutenant wrote, "and contributed to make the scene and passage extremely pleasant." More than a hundred birch-bark canoes led the flotilla. Each carried twenty to thirty warriors, mostly Iroquois sporting nose rings, slitted earlobes, and feathers in tufted topknots, their eyelids and cheeks daubed with vermilion paint. Some wore knife sheaths made from lynx skins and, a British officer recorded, an "arse clout, or covering for the privities." Arrayed across the mile-wide lake behind the Indian vanguard came the main battle force, "the most complete and splendid regatta you can possibly conceive," a witness reported: the three-masted frigate Royal George, built by shipwrights in Canada during the winter and carrying 26 guns, and smaller vessels named Inflexible, Carleton, Maria, and Royal Convert, as well as 44 gunboats, 23 longboats, 26 cutters, 260 bateaux, and a wallowing ninety-one-foot radeau, or raft, the Thunderer, ferrying barreled gunpowder and heavy cannons intended to blast Ticonderoga's walls to rubble. A brig, a gundalow, and a sloop—Washington, Jersey, and Lee—had been captured in October from the rebel general turned commodore Benedict Arnold, whose gallant, forlorn rearguard fight in these very waters had helped delay the earlier British attack until winter forced the invaders back to Canada. All told, this squadron carried 133 naval guns to complement the army's 130 field cannons, mortars, and howitzers, each barrel stamped with the king's monogram or other symbols of possession. Storeships and lake transports continued to arrive at Crown Point from the north, laden with almost five thousand tons of salt pork, hard biscuits, and other rations, along with siege tools, ammunition, rum, cattle, and civilian camp followers, whose numbers officially included 225 women and 500 children, although some hyperbolists would claim that the combined figure actually approached two thousand. "It looked," wrote Corporal Roger Lamb of the 9th Regiment of Foot, "like some stupendous fairy scene of a dream." By late afternoon, many troops had disembarked on either shore to join the advance regiments moving toward Ticonderoga, now just a few miles ahead. Bullfrogs croaked in the shallows, and white elderberry blossoms brightened the conifer thickets, "the birthplace of every biting insect," one miserable chaplain wrote. Some men smeared cedar sap on their faces in a vain effort to repel mosquitoes and deerflies. On the left, to the east, four thousand mercenaries plodded through the underbrush. Known collectively as Hessians, since most Germans hired by London to fight in America came from Hesse-Kassel, this contingent was largely from the small, impoverished duchy of Brunswick, whose ruling family had intermarried with the British royal family. Brunswick's duke collected £7 a year for each rented soldier, plus a blood-money bounty for every man killed or captured and an equivalent stipend for every three wounded. The troops earned the same eight pence a day as their British comrades, minus deductions for food and uniforms. Most of the German troops had spent an agreeable winter in isolated bivouacs along the St. Lawrence and Richelieu Rivers, developing a taste for beaver tail, salted sturgeon, and maple sugar. Jager scouts—professional hunters—led the column, distinctive in their green coats trimmed in crimson and black hats decorated with pompoms. Dragoons followed in leather breeches and woolen gaiters, dismounted for the moment but hopeful of finding American horses ahead. Armed with short carbines and three-foot broad-swords, many cultivated horizontal waxed mustaches and wore their hair in a queue down the back "like a Chinese mandarin," an admirer wrote. Grenadiers, artillerymen, musicians, gunsmiths, servants, and sutlers filled out the procession, prodded forward by blue-coated officers wearing silver sashes and wielding canes or pointed spontoons. During the voyage down the lake, some men had stripped to the waist to bask in the warm sun and, a surgeon reported, "have been badly sunburned, large blisters developing on their skin." The Germans were led by Major General Friedrich Adolph Riedesel. Thirty-nine years old, with a moon face and a ramrod bearing, he had forsaken his law studies in Marburg to take up soldiering, soon demonstrating a hussar's valor at Minden during the Seven Years' War. Fluent in French and conversational English, Riedesel considered the opportunity to command in North America to be "sent by Providence." He had sworn allegiance to George III, like each of his Brunswickers, and had predicted in a dispatch to his duke that "this campaign will finish the war." Although British officers could be insufferably supercilious toward their German allies, he got on well with the redcoats, even if they stumbled over the pronunciation of his name, calling him "General Red Hazel." Those redcoats could now be seen across the lake, moving south in a snaking column parallel to the Germans. Brawny grenadiers, often used to lead assaults, had exchanged their tall bearskin hats for more practical felt caps trimmed in horse-hair. Each foot soldier carried a ten-pound musket, a sixteen-inch bayonet, a tin canteen, a linen haversack, and his own blanket—a battlefield luxury, since in peacetime five men typically shared two blankets. British infantrymen were among the finest soldiers in the world, but most of these troops were green; only the 47th Regiment of Foot had seen extensive combat, at Lexington and Bunker Hill, among other clashes. They were led nonetheless by an exceptional cadre of junior officers, thirty of whom would become generals, including eighteen destined to be full generals, the army's highest rank. In addition, another six future general officers could be found among the twenty-two Royal Artillery officers in the column. Squinting at both shorelines through his spyglass from the pitching deck of the Royal George, Lieutenant General John Burgoyne was as pleased with his invasion force as he was with himself. At fifty-four, he had endured a long and arduous climb to high command, and he intended to return to London to claim the laurels owed every victorious commander. Educated at Westminster School, where even mathematics was taught in Latin and boys were birched for the slightest transgression, he had joined the army at fifteen, earned a reputation as both a swordsman and a card sharp, then wrecked his career by eloping with Charlotte Stanley, the youngest daughter of a very angry earl. Effectively banished to France and forced to sell his commission, Burgoyne lived modestly with Charlotte on the Seine for seven years, growing vegetables, traveling the Continent, and making a living at whist and twenty-one. At last all was forgiven, and a belated reconciliation brought the couple back to England. Burgoyne returned to duty as an aging dragoon captain, just in time to win fame at the cannon's mouth in the Seven Years' War, notably in Normandy and Brittany against the French, and on the Tagus River near Lisbon against the Spanish. The king of Portugal gave him a diamond ring in gratitude, and he emerged from the struggle as a British war hero. Burgoyne's ascent continued in peacetime. Elected to the House of Commons, he was a diligent, independent military reformer. His insights from an inspection tour of Continental armies impressed George III, as did his parliamentary investigation of East India Company corruption. He and Charlotte shuttled between fine houses in Lancashire and Surrey and on Hertford Street, in tony Mayfair, an easy stroll from the London gambling tables at Brooks's club. An aspiring playwright, he also became a regular in the Green Room at Drury Lane Theater, where in 1774 the actor and impresario David Garrick directed Burgoyne's The Maid of the Oaks, a triumphant success. Excerpted from "The Fate of the Day" by Rick Atkinson Copyright © 2025 by Rick Atkinson. Excerpted by permission of Crown. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Get the book here: "The Fate of the Day" by Rick Atkinson Buy locally from For more info:

‘The Fate of the Day' Review: The Revolution's Middle Age

Wall Street Journal

23-05-2025

Politics
Wall Street Journal

‘The Fate of the Day' Review: The Revolution's Middle Age

The American Revolution defined the United States in an epic conflict that reached far beyond its shores. 'The Fate of the Day,' the second volume of Rick Atkinson's Revolution Trilogy, traces the war's growth from colonial revolt into a global stalemate that reflected both sides' refusal to flinch, showing how it affected ordinary people as well as examining the motives of the statesmen and soldiers who drove it. Varying his focus to capture compelling personalities and episodes along with the wider picture, Mr. Atkinson sustains dramatic tension in a detailed, comprehensive account of the Revolution's pivotal middle years. He frames the book with two British victories, at New York's Fort Ticonderoga in 1777 and Charleston, S.C., three years later. Neither achieved lasting success. Gen. John Burgoyne's victory at Ticonderoga delivered Lake Champlain, but the campaign ended months later with his humiliating surrender at Saratoga. Gen. Henry Clinton captured American Army and naval squadrons at Charleston, leading him to think that 'the spirit of rebellion might be thoroughly subdued in the two Carolinas.' He was mistaken. Throughout 1777, British campaigns sought to recover the momentum dented by Washington's Christmas 1776 attack over the Delaware. Burgoyne's success opened a path south toward the Hudson, but Gen. William Howe's decision to turn the main army at New York against Philadelphia rather than meeting Burgoyne at Albany divided what should have been a coordinated effort to isolate New England. According to Mr. Atkinson, the fault lay with a fatal lack of planning, exacerbated by quarrels among British generals with strong personalities. Howe's choices made little sense, especially when he approached Philadelphia via an extended voyage up the Chesapeake instead of more directly. He outfought Washington at Brandywine with a deft flanking maneuver helped by good intelligence but lacked the mobility to capitalize on his success by vigorously pursuing the enemy. After the Brandywine defeat, Congress fled Philadelphia, crossing the Susquehanna River and stopping at York more than 100 miles away. In December Washington posted his Army at Valley Forge, hoping, among other things, to deny British forces easy support from Pennsylvania loyalists, whose numbers the British government consistently overestimated—Mr. Atkinson rightly calls loyalist aid 'a political chimera that distorted British military decisions for years.'