When I do that I'll make sure to tag you with it, perhaps there will be some that I've missed.
Well, probably not something I'll be able to find :p
Really, the only subject I have a good amount of knowledge in detail is Bengali history - I like Indian socio-economic and technological history as well, but have not really read much on them beyond a few books and essays. And South India is almost completely a blind spot for me (Incidentally do you have any recommendations for South Indian history?)
 
Well, probably not something I'll be able to find :p
Really, the only subject I have a good amount of knowledge in detail is Bengali history - I like Indian socio-economic and technological history as well, but have not really read much on them beyond a few books and essays. And South India is almost completely a blind spot for me (Incidentally do you have any recommendations for South Indian history?)
Bengali history is something I'm mostly ignorant on myself - I read The Hooghly: A Global History which frankly I was quite disappointed by. Also the Company Weavers of Bengal: The East India Company and the Organization of Textile Production in Bengal, 1750-1813 but for some reason none of it stuck. I have a large number of books I want to read about the Bengal Renaissance but none that I have gotten around to yet. If you have any recommendations they're always useful for that subject!

As far as South Indian history, I quite recommend:
The Transition to a Colonial Economy: Weavers, Merchants, and Kings in South India, 1720-1800,
India, Modernity, and the Great Divergence (which also goes into Gujarat)
The New Cambridge History of India: The Marathas, 1600-1818
The Warrior Merchants, Textiles, Trade, and Territory in South India
Confronting Colonialism: Resistance and Modernization under Hyder Ali and Tipu Sultan
Tipu Sultan: The Search for Legitimacy,
Tipu Sultan: A Crusader for Change (extremely pro-Tipu biased but with a tremendous amount of information)
History of Tipu Sultan
Local States in an Imperial World: Society, Politics, and Identity in the Early Modern Deccan

With some more marginal ones including Indian Sufiism since the 17th century: Saints, books, and empires in the Muslim Deccan, and The Political Economy of Commerce: Southern India, 1500-1650.

There's still always more to read of course.
 
So it was more than Tipu, more than simply a sultan with his troops with inscriptions woven into their turbans. It was a land of Sufis, of saints, of fakirs, and it was a land in ferment, who prayed and looked to all comers for salvation. Who cared who saved you from the rapacious cavalryman, from the brutal infantryman, from the grasping hordes of camp follows, from the swarms of bandits, from the uncaring artillery, from famine and despair, save that you were indeed saved? From the sea to the sea, they prayed for a miracle. But to pray for a miracle has a very different meaning amongst those who believe in them, and so as the Years of the Sword entered their bitter, tragic, interminable third year, Tipu and his subjects dreamed of a miracle to rescue them from their long nightmare – and believed.
I really hope that miracle will come in the form of Napoleon getting his hands on the Steamboat from Robert Fulton instead of Great Britain.
 
Chapter 20, The Years of the Sword IV: To the Breaking Point
There is nothing on Earth like the arrival of the monsoon in India. The oppressive heat lies across the land, building as the blazing sun beats down upon the subcontinent, the plants turning into dry, burning hulks, building and building to a crescendo that seems unsupportable. Perhaps the gods forgot about India this year, and perhaps the angry wrath of the sun will incinerate the entire land, and the dread deepens and deepens in those long waiting weeks, baited breath to see if the monsoon and its life giving rains will come, and then suddenly the great towering clouds sweep in, more magnificent than any temple, any cathedral, any mountain, soaring pillars of white and gray, and the rain beats down, lusty and wild, pouring down upon the dying earth and quenching its thirst.[1]

Is it so surprising that Indians have always had such an appreciation for the divine, faced with the sheer unimaginable power of the great storm clouds? When they come, they show the sheer inconsequence of humanity in proper scale, and obligingly, during the monsoon season, much of human activity ceases. Armies too – and during the long months they go into remission, returning to their barracks, waiting for the rains to end. As long as the water beat down, as long as the roads were unpassable muddy tracts, even the most embattled sultan, raja, Mughal, king, or emperor was safe. But the rains would one day end, and Tipu Sultan, ruler of Mysore, looked with dread on a different type of storm which gathered upon the horizons as the clouds dissipated and the sun emerged from the gray clouds. He anticipated Fall, 1795, as a painful campaign: it would be even worse than he imagined.

In 1793, the Mysoreans had bought time for their flagging war effort when they had laid waste to Hyderabad, in a ruthless scorched earth campaign which devastated much of the Nizam’s territory, and had left the Nizam reeling and off-balance. In its wake, along with the sudden implosion of the military, the eviscerated prestige of the dynasty after the disaster of the Carnatic campaign, the collapse of the British army aiding them, and internal political tensions, the very survival of the Nizam’s state had looked to be in doubt.

But with the Mysoreans drawn south, and the British and the Marathas both with their hands occupied elsewhere, the Nizam got his stay of execution, and in the wake of the disasters, a new and more capable Hyderabi army, commanded by the French émigré officer Michel Joachim Marie Raymond had emerged as the hardened core of a new, more capable force. Raymond’s army itself had suffered cruelly in the Carnatic campaign, when it had fought the pursuing Mysoreans in a bloody rearguard action that had saved the Nizam, and which some of the more poetically-minded of his officers had named the Chanson de Raymond. In the aftermath, rebuilding it was a herculean task in of itself, much less saving Hyderabad as a whole, but one which the general had embarked on with relentless determination. Raymond had established arms factories, trained troops, expanded the artillery forces, and professionalized and modernized the Hyderabi military. In the desperate years of putting down rebellions (including many disaffected Arab mercenaries) and pretenders to the throne that had followed the deluge of 1793, Raymond’s army had steadily gained experience and an esprit de corps that would make it into one of the most capable in all of India.

As the 1795 monsoon trickled to an end, and the campaigning season for the 1795/1796 year opened up, the Nizam and Raymond at last felt ready for revenge on the Mysoreans. The Nizam still claimed the Carnatic from the Mysoreans, and Raymond’s army attacked south into the Carnatic. Unlike in 1793, the Hyderabi army had the artillery to knock out the Mysorean forts in quick order, and their advance was if anything even swifter than in 1793, but this time without leaving fortresses behind them. In a burst of revolutionary fervor, the French in Madras and Pondicherry declared war on the Nizam, declaring grandly that they would not rest until all of India having up until this point been technically in peace, and Madras rallied its forces for another year, secure that if they had defeated the British the year before, this year they would thrash the Nizam’s army.

It would prove a tragic miscalculation. Raymond’s army, battle-hardened, experienced, trained, and substantially more numerous than the British army, and supported by vastly greater cavalry forces, would ride roughshod over the revolutionary troops as well as whatever Mysorean forces were present. By the beginning of November, Madras was once again under siege, as the Nizam’s guns pounded the walls and venerable Fort George. Clouds of gray gun smoke framed the city and the besieged residents faced the magnificently attired household cavalry of the Nizam parading past the walls, while the far more grim spectacle of Raymond’s sepoys filled them with dread. The Royal Navy, still supreme in these waters despite setbacks in Europe and the vicious Franco-Mysorean privateering war, cut Madras off from the sea, and the baneful specter of famine threatened to stalk the city soon – if it was not to be the Nizam’s infantry that would take the city in plunder and sack.

All depended upon whether Tipu or Pondicherry would come to succor the city, but here too, the picture was grim. The British continued their relentless, if slow, march up through the Carnatic, against which the Franco-Mysoreans had little that they could do to oppose them, only to retard their advance. For in the West, the Marathas would bring the coup de grace against the Mysoreans. With their internal feuds settled, and the Mysoreans seemingly on the verge of collapse, and Tipu still stubbornly resistant to demands to surrender any of his territory, the Marathas wanted their pound of flesh and to settle the war, and gathered a new army under Parshuram Bhau which advanced upon Bangalore.

Tipu’s intelligence was well aware of the triple alliance that held him in a vise. Having to choose between the Carnatic and Bangalore, Tipu chose Bangalore, accepting his powerlessness against the British and the Nizam. With a brutally winnowed army from attrition, having lost much of its firepower and ground down in battle after battle against the British, he decided he couldn’t face the Marathas in an open field battle, and instead opted to bring all of the food surrounding Bangalore into the city, denying food to the Marathas, and to use his cavalry generals to raid the Maratha supply lines. His father, Haidar Ali, had used just such a tactic against the Marathas in the 1760s, when it had proved to be decisively effective. This time however, it turned out to be ineffective, since the Marathas paid off many of the Mysorean cavalry generals, increasingly pessimistic at the prospect of Mysorean victory. Maratha artillery was immensely powerful, but also slow and cumbersome, and it took a long time yet for it to trundle its way over the mountains towards Bangalore.

Their march was through land as dramatic as the monsoon. The great fortress of Madhugiri Betta, towering 4,000 feet above the plains, made of solid granite, stared down at them. Its bastions reared up into the heavens, the Sultan’s green banner facing down at them, so far above that it was lost amidst the clouds. If there had been enough troops, then the belt of iron and rock would have been impenetrable – but there were not. Through the plains beneath the great mountains marched the army, the impotent fortresses staring at them powerlessly. Soon, Bangalore was under siege.

It was the grimmest period of the war for Mysore, as Tipu sat besieged in his capital, spies giving him a hazy look at what happened as they smuggled their reports through the besieging Maratha lines. The British advanced remorseless north. Local Mysorean units and in desperation the French armies in Pondicherry tried to help out, to no avail as the British smashed any resistance. Meanwhile the Nizam’s armies besieged Madras, much of western Mysore was in rebellion or occupied, and now enemy guns themselves fired on his capital, sending shot careening through his gardens. Perhaps Allah had abandoned the Mysoreans, Tipu must have morosely thought, his prayers and charms having failed him, as the long years of catastrophe, defeat, retreat, and loss caught up to him in a black depression that rivaled that of the worst of 1793. On all sides, his empire crumbled.

But Allah must not have been so deaf as Tipu thought, for on November 4th,[2] the Maratha Peshwa, Madhavrao II, a young man dominated by the eminence grise of the Marathas Nana Fadnavis, threw himself from the balcony of his palace in an act of suicide that would rock the very foundations of the Maratha state.

[1]I hope that this actually is what the monsoon looks like, I haven’t seen it and this is based on a conversation with an acquaintance describing it.

[2]A historical event, very mildly later date.
 
Honestly, this entire war has a Paraguayan War feeling to it with the amount of people dying on each side.

I am actually excited for the post war to see where Mysore will go development wise. If a Mysore delegation ever visits Korea I hope they chance upon the design of the Hwacha and combine them with the rockets.
 
Related to this, I've been putting together a reading material list on Tipu Sultan (and to a lesser extent Hyder Ali, there simply isn't as much written on him), for collating the books I've read, what's worth reading, and seeing how historiography for them has changed over time. Still a work in progress, I've yet to read Sandeep Balakrishna's Tipu Sultan: The Tyrant of Mysore, and somebody else has put together another list with a wildly different list of books on it, and which I haven't (yet) been able to get, but perhaps people here would find it interesting.
 
Chapter 21: Indes paisibles, indes galantes: Naval War in the Atlantic
When comte Pierre André de Suffren de Saint Tropez, bailli de Suffren returned victorious from his campaign in the East Indies, as the most successful admiral in French history since Tourville under the Sun King, he was greeted with wild abandon and rejoicing. Fêted, overwhelmed with honors and decorations, greeted in public triumphs, and triumphantly entertained by King Louis XVI, Suffren was the hero of the day in France. Only Benjamin Franklin surpassed him for popularity and adoration, and next to Franklin’s conquests of the undergarments of the ladies of Versailles, Suffren’s campaigns certainly cut a second-rate figure.

Suffren was more than simply a returning celebrity however: he was also an active service military officer, who went back to service and was at several times even picked for commanding fleets in case of war with Britain. His relations with other officers had often been adversarial, as Suffren loved to shock them and to domineer them, but the Indian campaign had welded his captains into a loyal and devoted faction, who not only backed him – and were backed by him in the regular battles of influence that made up any peace-time navy’s principal and bloodiest fight – but aligned themselves on Suffren’s tactical ideas. They had tasted decisive victory in the Indian ocean campaign, and were determined to repeat it, on the basis of a simple formula – attack, aggression, and ruthlessness, with Porto Praya, when the French had launched a devastating surprise attack on the British fleet, and the continued hard-pressed fighting off of Kokilai that had put an end to Admiral Hughe’s fleet in the East Indies being lauded, taught and jealously envied by them.

This group of officers were named the Suffrenistes, as long as Suffren lived at least. But Suffren’s health had been undermined by his long service in the Indies and he died suddenly in 1788, before the French Revolution exploded into being. With his death, a new name had to describe his adepts: the Indiens, or the Indians, which then ran into a problem: they were not alone as far as factions went in French naval doctrine and thinking.

The other school of thought was the more conventional and classical French naval school, which instead took as their model De Grasse and his accomplishments in the American Revolutionary War. True enough, they pointed out, Suffren had won some important victories, but he had had the advantage of, after Porto Praya, generally operating at an advantage, had taken severe risks, and had nearly lost his transports off of Trikolai. And while Suffren had won, it was actually De Grasse’s less flashy battle at the Chesapeake that had been the most decisive strategic battle of the war – of the entire century in fact, some had muttered ambitiously, having won independence for the United States through clever maneuvering and excellent strategic appreciation. Aggressive offensive tactics for the French Navy, with inferiority in naval supplies compared to Britain that made replacing its fleets in wartime difficult, a smaller fleet, less bases available for repair, and a smaller naval manpower pool, made little sense. Instead of focusing on winning battles, the focus should be on winning campaigns: escorting armies, convoys, defending French possessions.

If Suffren’s school came from the East Indies, then the orthodox school stemmed from the West Indies. But the naming division between them would not be geographical in the end: instead it stemmed from Rameau’s famous 1736 opera. The Suffren school adopted the name of the Indiens gallants, while their opposing school received the vaguely mocking moniker of Les Indiens paisibles. Not to their contentment, but the names stuck, and came to define a factional split in French naval doctrine that would long shape French naval operations.

But regardless of what one was to call the differences, the time for theorizing was soon to come to an end as the increasingly radical French Revolution entered into war with Austria, in an escalating cycle of violence and extremism that saw the Republic embroiled in a war with almost all of Europe – and its navy called on to fight on at heavy odds. The Indiens gallants jumped at this, linking offensive and aggression naval action at the sea with the lévée en masse and revolutionary élan on land, and castigating their opponents as being conservative monarchists, nobles, and merchants more concerned with their own profits than the defense of endangered France. These accusations have broadly gelled into a popular stereotype about the two factions, the gallants viewed as being principally commoners and newly promoted while the paisibles were high ranking officers and nobles: social historians have again and again dismantled such a facile separation, but to no avail. Another element of this sterile debate is that it actually didn’t matter that much to the French fleet in the early years of the Revolution: with catastrophic declines in discipline in the ranks and authority in the officer corps, huge shortages of naval supplies, and collapsing naval administration, squabbles over tactical/operational doctrine ignored the real issues plaguing France.

This was proved by a disastrous beginning to the war for France, where the Brest fleet was struck by a major mutiny, which rendered it mostly combat ineffective, enabling a steady stream of British aid to Royalist rebels in the Vendee. Order would only be restored at the end of 1793 and beginning of 1794 by the institution of terror by the Republic’s infamous Representatives in Mission. In southern France, the mutiny of the Toulon fleet would neuter much of the nascent Republic’s seapower, either captured or destroyed by the British. The French were damaged but not out however, as the following years would prove.

With war engaged, this escalated to a series of increasingly bloody and pitched fleet battles. The first great engagement, the 1794 Second Battle of Ushant, saw the French fleet sortie to protect an inward-bound convoy of grain supplies, intended to save western France from a devastating famine. But despite greater caution in the French government, the French admiral Villaret de Joyeuse was also desirous of bringing the British to battle, believing that his strength would only further whither away and that like his hero Suffren, he needed to be aggressive if he was going to salvage the French situation. Howe, the British admiral, was equally determined to win a tactical victory after the failures of the Allies at Toulon the year before.

Second Ushant however, was marked by heavy fog which meant that the two sides actually blundered into each other, in a vicious melee where neither side’s admirals, on the French side the newly-minted admiral Villarey-Joyeuse, a former Suffren protege, or on the British side Admiral Howe, had much ability to actually command their forces. The French had tremendous enthusiasm and revolutionary élan, as well as marginally superior numbers, with some 27 ships of the line to 23 British ones, but the British had better seamen, their ships were in better state, and above all better gunnery and hadn’t suffered the same revolutionary purges. The confused and difficult point-blank naval fighting in the fog would cost both sides dearly, with the British getting the better of the first half of the battle, clearing for action faster than the French and managing to capture a stunning 6 French ships of the line.

But the French simply kept coming, and the British fleet, confused and uncertain with their prizes, and tangled up itself, was subsequently set upon by the rear of the French battle line, which managed to liberate most of the captured ships. By this time, both sides were so utterly confused that there were multiple examples of battle lines sailing right past each other, uncertain as to their identity, and in other case friendly ships cannonading themselves before frantic calls managed and to convince them of belonging to the same side. Both fleets proved to be completely discombobulated, and so disorganized in the fog that neither was able to reorganize themselves. The fighting ultimately saw some 7 French ships captured by the British, while 4 British ships were captured by the French, with substantially greater French casualties and damage.

If Second Ushant proved to be a British tactical victory, if not nearly as decisive as Howe wanted, the subsequent scattering of the fleets bore bitter fruit, since one of the squadrons ran into a British convoy, and overwhelmed its marginal escort. Although the convoy’s scattering meant that few of the merchants were actually captured by the squadron, the dispersed convoy took horrendous losses to frigates and privateers, more than half of it being captured, with a major commercial shock in London.

By the time both fleets had reconstituted themselves, regathered themselves, and repaired, it would be too late in the campaigning season for a second campaign to be carried out, Vilaret Joyeuse faced increasingly difficult political pressure from above in Paris for the eternal politician’s request to “do something.” The situation had been salvaged in western France by the French fleet’s salvation of the grain convoy, but France was still embattled, surrounded on all sides, and in fact victories by Republican armies on the Austrian front actually increased pressure on the fleet to try to strike a victory against Britain. But the problem was that revolutionary élan however, cannot make ships sail when their canvas is rotting, when their masts are broken, when their timber is falling apart, and the disastrous French financial situation left parlous resources available for the Republic’s fleets: the Committee of Public Safety’s plan, to send the fleet to sea in winter, would inflict terrific damage on the French fleet, which even if it didn’t sink in rough Atlantic weather would be incapable of repairing any losses.

Villaret Joyeuse instead carried out the most important maneuver that any French admiral could in the early 1790s: the political type. Instead of sending the French fleet out directly into the Atlantic, why not instead send it to aid the Republic’s allies, the heroic and embattled Mysoreans? Joyeuse was a pro-colonial figure, and his politicking, combined with the immense popularity that Mysore enjoyed in Paris in 1794/1795 as the only real ally that the Republic had, won the day: Joyeuse was able to keep most of his fleet, but in late winter/early spring 1795, he chose the only way he had to preserve his fleet: dispatching significant portion of it to India, with a squadron of French ships of the line under the admiral de Galles. It was largely an effort to try to distract attention from launching an ill-conceived winter campaign, but as it turned out, it would mark the first steps in transforming the French Revolutionary Wars into a truly global conflict: 1795 would be years in which both Indies would be aflame.
 
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Good to see Suffren's feats in the Indian theatre have left their mark on the Admiralty of France, but it makes sense that the initial madness of the French Revolution would through these consequences for a bedlam. Although I am curious to see if said changes allow Robert Fulton to get French backing in the creation of Steam ships, which would be a game changer against the British.
 
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saw the French fleet sortie to protect an inward-bound convoy of grain supplies, intended to save western France from a devastating famine

since one of the squadrons ran into the British convoy, and overwhelmed its marginal escort. Although the convoy’s scattering meant that few of the merchants were actually captured by the squadron, the dispersed convoy took horrendous losses to frigates and privateers, more than half of it being captured, with a major commercial shock in London.
Is it a British convoy captured by the French or is this the French grain convoy they sallied to protect?
other than that, i liked it, a interesting look at early republican naval efforts which is not something i have ever looked into.
 
Chapter 22: Live (somewhat) Free or Die, Victor Hughes and the Sister Republics of the Antilles
Your slaves do not need your generosity or your advice to shatter the
sacrilegious yoke that oppresses them. Nature speaks louder than philosophy
or interest. Already two colonies of fugitive negroes have been
established, and they are protected from your attacks by treaties and
by force. These flashes announce the lightning, and all that the negroes
lack is a leader courageous enough to carry them to vengeance
and carnage. Where is he, this great man, that nature owes to its
vexed, oppressed, tormented children? Where is he? He will appear,
do not doubt it. He will show himself and will raise the sacred banner
of liberty. This venerable leader will gather around him his comrades
in misfortune. More impetuous than torrents, they will leave ineffaceable
traces of their just anger everywhere. All their tyrants—Spanish,
Portuguese, English, French, Dutch—will fall prey to iron and
flame. The American fields will be transported to drunkenness from
drinking the blood that they have been awaiting for so long. And the
bones of innumerable unfortunates, piled up over three centuries, will
shake with joy. The Old World will join its applause to that of the
New. Everywhere people will bless the name of the hero who reestablished
the rights of the human species, everywhere monuments will be
erected to his glory. Then the Code noir will disappear, and the Code
blanc will be terrible, if the victors consult only the law of revenge!

Histoire philosophique et politique
des établissements et du commerce des Européens dans les deux Indes, Raynal​


It was always the burning of the cane fields that was the signal for revolt, the flames engulfing the great expanses of liquid gold watered by the blood of the slaves that stretched between the scattered islands of the plantation houses. When the cane inferno came, the fire of rebellion was not to be quenched save with blood, but it could be staunched with the barrier of the azure waves. But some fires are so great as to leap over any firebreak, to fly from island to island, to make a mockery of attempts to contain it. The dead stalks of cane, the sweet juice of the sugar, the blood of the slaves, had all been piled by the angel of history into fuel for the likes of an inferno which could not be by mortal hands extinguished.

The Caribbean had been a nexus of European power politics for more than a century by the time the French revolution destroyed the old world. During the 17th century it was the infamous abode of pirates and corsairs, preying on Spanish gold as it made its way on the great galleons to the insatiable money pit of His Most Catholic Majesty's tercios. But by the 18th century, commercial development, building off of the late 17th century precedents, shifted the region’s economy away from privateering and small scale tobacco cultivation to massive cultivation of sugarcane and to a lesser extent coffee, indigo, and cotton, fueling an unprecedented economic boom. The colonial trade of maritime powers like France and Britain expanded vastly and France's in particular became heavily based on the huge sugar and colonial trade from the Caribbean, producing a remarkable economic dynamism in Western France. Colonial trade rose to 25% of the total French trade, vital to French mercantile prosperity and the French balance of trade in Europe, and in both France and Britain the West Indies lobby was a potent political force.

This commerce was built on the backs of what became overwhelmingly slave societies. The proportion and number of slaves in the French Caribbean rose massively over the course of the century, fueled by huge imports of slaves, but also increasingly by natural growth as slaves acclimated to the climate and stable societies were brought up. This society was more than simply one of slaves and masters however: there were also the small whites, sometimes poor but often simply not possessing the same social status and power as the grand-blancs possessed, and freed blacks, the gens de couleur, many of whom themselves became increasingly wealthy and often owned slaves themselves, and represented an increasing proportion of the population. There were also marrons in the interior, escaped slaves who constituted their own societies, sometimes fighting against the administration, sometimes allies through returning escaped slaves, but in any case their own power and one with which formal treaties were often made to fit them into the colonial system as slave hunters. The overwhelming majority of society however, was the vast slave population, itself divided between creoles assimilated to the colonies, and more recently arrived Africans who came from a dizzying varieties of homelands in Africa. Society was based on their backs.

So when the French Revolution brought the question of slavery to the fore it was a debate whose outcome was of overwhelming importance to the fate of the entire structure and destiny of these distant French lands, and indeed the entire Caribbean. There was an inherent contradiction between the universal and inalienable rights of man, born free and equal - and the maintenance of hundreds of thousands of people in conditions of slavery. Not only were slaves (and the gens de couleur, the free blacks and mulattos) inspired in hope by the developments in France, they were also confronted by a weakened repressive apparatus, as the authority of royal France began to splinter and collapse. And back in the Metropole, anti-slavery societies, already beginning to develop in the 1780s, received a major impetus, particularly the Société des amis des Noirs. But the first signs of revolt however, ironically came from the Saint-Domingue creoles, who were eager to assert their authority and dominance in the colony with the collapse of royal authority, setting up their own rival government in the “War of the Tassles,” between the red of the local autonomists and the white of royal authority: a war ultimately won by the centralists.

But this petty squabble soon became meaningless as a far more serious contestation developed. The first was the gens de couleur who were rallied by Vincent Ogé who returned to attempt to gain the rights decreed in the home country for the gens de couleur libres. His rebellion was quickly smashed by the reunited whites, but it would not be long for a far more serious threat to emerge, as the slaves rose in revolt, burning plantations and seizing the land for themselves. An obvious solution to the problem of the miniscule white minority retaining control would have been to broaden its base, through the elevation of the maligned and beaten gens de couleur, the free blacks and mulattos. But instead they dug in their heels and refused this, and the situation continued to spiral out of control. Planters looked to foreign, ie. British and Spanish intervention to save themselves and their property: there were landings, crucial ports seized, and the maroons and rebellious slaves of the interior were folded into the Spanish alliance as a force of counter-revolution and revolt.

It would be in this context that Toussaint Bréda rose to power, a freedman planter who realized that the game was up for his old plantation, and instead chose to head to the hills and join the rebel groups present there. Among them, he rapidly rose to become a leader of men, forming a disciplined and capable army of highly motivated soldiers, allied to Spain. But Bréda had the foresight to see that things had changed, and that the days of slavery were over, and that the attempts of the Marron leaders to secure partial emancipation, partial freedom, were doomed to failure. It was in this context that Bréda opened up a communication with the ostensible French governor of the island, and fatefully changed his side: in May, 1794, he suddenly attacked and annihilated the maroon garrisons and drove the Spanish out of Saint-Domingue, soon followed by expelling British expeditionary forces in the ports atrophied by disease and attrition and setting himself on the path to supreme power and a new name: Toussaint-Louverture. This came at the same time as the formal abolition of slavery throughout the entire French empire, decreed by the National Assembly in Paris.

The question was however, whether there would be any colonies left for the decree to be applied. British intervention captured Martinique, St. Lucia, and Guadeloupe, with the support of the French planters, while Saint-Domingue was still in a state of effective civil war with Andre Rigaud leading the mulatto elements and L’Ouverture the blacks, and Spanish and British armies and proxies in operation. The opening of the war had seen the dispatch of a major British expeditionary force to the Caribbean, with powerful contingents of ships of the line and troops. True, it was lacking somewhat in light forces, the cruisers and frigates that would raid trade and deal with light vessels in shallow waters, with these forces bound up trying to halt French raids in the Atlantic and the vicious commerce raiding campaign in the Indian Ocean by French and Mysorean privateers and fleet elements, yet on the offense this would not be a serious problem.

At such a nadir, a singular personality reversed the catastrophe: commissar of the Republic Victor Hughes. Hughes was from a Marseille merchant house family, active in trade, but rallied to the Revolution and the Republic. Appointed as the Republic’s commissar in Guadeloupe, he arrived in early 1794 just after the British captured the island. He carried with him the promise of the abolition of slavery, and he managed to organize a liberating army of slaves and gens de couleur who promptly destroyed a royalist army of some 1,500 and went on to drive the British from the islands. Hughes abolished slavery - although a system of obligatory, forced, labor that freed the slaves but gave them the new status of a (theoretically) paid cultivateur who was supposed to remain on the plantations and work it is true, meant that the actual change was less dramatic - and from his base in Guadeloupe launched a campaign of very republican credentials: a people’s war for the end of slavery, to set the Caribbean alight and conveniently to strike a blow against the enemies of France. And for those not as motivated by Republican principles and liberty, a privateering campaign which became the bane of British, Spanish, and more inconveniently, American commerce in the region.

Hughe’s forces captured outlying islands of Guadeloupe, such as Marie Galante with small boats, but quickly became more ambitious: they recaptured French Lucia, and went on, in 1795, to capture the British colony of Antigua* - an immense propaganda triumph, with Hughes personally making the voyage to the island (narrowly, it must be said, escaping a British frigate which nearly ran down his ship before he escape under cover of darkness) to preside over a carefully choreographed ceremony of the breaking of chains of the British slaves, the distribution of Phyrgian bonnets to the now free men, and the enrollment of the former slaves into French military units and self-defense forces. It was engraved and illustrated into prints and distributed as propaganda by smuggled all across the Caribbean, and however small the pinprick was against the British Empire, the Committee of Public Safety dramatized it and trumpeted it at a time when there was little other way of striking directly against Britain. Sending the cultivateurs back to the plantations to get back to work was not trumpeted as much.

Other islands rose up in flame, such as St. Vincent where the Black Caribs alongside the French and slaves seized control of the island, encircling and then capturing Kingstown after reinforcements failed to arrive in time, while in Grenada Julien Fédon seized the island as a black republic. As elsewhere in the Caribbean, this set the stage for future intercine fighting and political tensions, particularly in St. Vincent where the battle lines were drawn between former slaves, Black Caribs, and white smallholders. They had different visions of what they wanted for the island, with the slaves wanting to become peasant farmers in their own rights, the Black Caribs to dominate government and establish themselves as the new ruling elite, and the white smallholders to pick up the place of the former plantation class. It would be an issue which would bedevil them, with only the sword of damocles of British intervention hanging over their head keep them in check. Dominica too saw a combined slave and Carib uprising throw out the British.

This also led to the question: what would be their status? As back in France, French authorities had to deal with the question of what they would do with territory that they declared “liberated.” This was complicated by the fact that a number of the islands that the French had in conjunction with slave revolts seized were prior French colonies, such as Saint Vincent, taken from France some 30 years before in the Seven Years’ War. Ultimately, Hughes opted to pursue a policy of “Sister Republics” similar to that in Europe. These were a mixed bag of democratic and anti-democratic beliefs, similar to Hughes’ own policies in Guadeloupe, with local parliaments, but with elections permanently displaced due to wartime emergency laws, and effectively functioned as French client states. The alternative was to federate them into a single republic, which Hughes viewed as more logical in light of their small size and non-viability as independent states, but he desired to ensure that they stayed firmly under his thumb and feared that a federation would be unwieldy and give rise to excessive independence.

Nevertheless, the Republics of Antigua, Grenada, Saint Vincent, and Dominica constituted the first officially independent nations in the Caribbean, and they did enjoy a real autonomy in drawing up their own constitutions, laws, and were even encouraged in establishing their own military units to assist with the war effort. As in Guadeloupe, this led a bifurcation of the status of the freed slaves in each of the islands, with the majority still tied to their plantations by restrictive policies, but an increasing minority gaining real freedom, arms, fighting experience, and even wealth in the army and as privateers, participating on raids that struck terror into the entire eastern Caribbean.

Hughes’ style of managed democracy however ran into problems on the island of greatest triumph: Antigua, the sole one which had never been a French colony or with a major French population present. While in the rest of the territories, there was a substantial indigenous population (or at least usable native - the ethnogenesis of the Black Caribs was heavily contested, but at any rate they saw themselves as descendants of the Caribs), and most often a significant French group left over from the days when the islands had been French colonies, there was no equivalent to this in Antigua, simply the presence of the British plantation owners and the slaves. Without an intermediary group to work through or different divisions to exploit, the Republic of Antigua had to base its popular support almost entirely on the former slaves, who proved to be unwilling to persist with the status of cultivateurs as in the other islands. The plantation system broke down in disorder and chaos as the British plantation owners fled the island as best as they could, and the new government had no choice but to accept the fait accompli: citing the abolishment of feudalism in France, they broke up the plantations and distributed the parcels of land to the cultivateurs, essentially turning them into a class of free peasants. Theoretically at least: the mechanism chosen to try to keep the system from devolving into subsistence agriculture was a system of punishing poll taxes, which in effect would force the new peasants to grow cash crops to pay them. Slaves of the British plantation owners, cultivateurs of the Republic’s commissars, smallholders of the Antiguan overseers - the work must go on, the sugar must be grown, and the sweat of a man’s brow turned to gold.

Plus ça change? Perhaps, but whatever the limitations of Hughe’s system, what mattered was that the slaves believed in freedom. And be it the talisman of the rights of man and the citizen for the French peasant, the Sonthonax decree of the abolition of slavery, or Tipu Sultan’s calligraphy on soldiers’ turbans that promised protection from bullets, man will die with a ready smile for a belief.

*These are based upon OTL different island offensives which the French came close to pulling off. Historically, the French were either defeated by British naval forces which forestalled them, such as at Antigua, or in the rest of the colonies they went up in revolt but later British reinforcements managed to stabilize the situation, generally around 6 months later. Here, the massive diversion of light ships to other theaters as covered in the Indian Ocean campaign as well as a more active French fleet in the Atlantic sucks up a disproportionate amount of British transport capacity and particularly cruisers which the British needed in order to deal with Hughes’ swarms of light boats and smuggling. As a result these operations are tipped over the edge and instead of narrowly failing they succeed. Antigua is my speculation upon Hughes’ system in conquered territory.
 
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Is it a British convoy captured by the French or is this the French grain convoy they sallied to protect?
other than that, i liked it, a interesting look at early republican naval efforts which is not something i have ever looked into.
I accidentally put "the" instead of "a," thanks for pointing it out. It was based upon the original Glorious First of June Campaign and there were both French and British convoys at sea, although the French one was dramatically more important in strategic terms considering the food supplies that it carried. The main point of it is to have a marginally better French tactical performance to avoid the Campagne du Grand Hiver and to get the French fleet around n the Indian Ocean for... later events.
 
Love how events in India led to this change! Seems like a plausible scenario where republican idealism and support for abolition run up against the demand for cash crops and not-slavery.
 
Good to see Suffren's feats in the Indian theatre have left their mark on the Admiralty of France, but it makes sense that the initial madness of the Fren, ch Revolution would through these consequences for a bedlam. Although I am curious to see if said changes allow Robert Fulton to get French backing in the creation of Steam ships, which would be a game changer against the British.
Unfortunately Fulton's steam boat designs really are white elephants in the early 1800s, not enough power or armament. Maybe useful for commerce raiding. But I'm always interested in scientific butterflies so I always appreciate the suggestions. We do have the changes in rocketry that need to put in an appearance eventually afterwards.
What a fantastic update, giving an unjustly neglected theatre of the wars its due.
It's been really interesting to read about, I still had a couple more books to work my way through (La Sigla de la Luces in particular looks fascinating), I had to cut short the research to post something before another month went by! Given how pitched fighting was in the Caribbean and the sheer degree of resources that the British committed to it in the 1790s, it is actually puzzling why it doesn't get more focus, especially in the current day when colonialism, slavery, racism, etc. are dominant issues in western societies.
Love how events in India led to this change! Seems like a plausible scenario where republican idealism and support for abolition run up against the demand for cash crops and not-slavery.
Much of Hughes' policy is OTL: A Colony of Citizens: Revolution and Slave Emancipation in the French Caribbean has some excellent details about it. Not only did the French want to keep the plantation sector going but they also were rather wary about granting freedom too quickly. Haiti did some similar stuff, my hope is that I can use the Sister Republics to show this evolving in different directions, particularly as I read more about African influence upon black revolts and republics in the 18th century Caribbean.
 
I really love this timeline, it covers both technological and social changes outside the West in the colonial era, which is always so very welcome, and the focus on the Indian subcontinent is a big plus personally. Kudos and looking forward always!
 
It's been really interesting to read about, I still had a couple more books to work my way through (La Sigla de la Luces in particular looks fascinating), I had to cut short the research to post something before another month went by! Given how pitched fighting was in the Caribbean and the sheer degree of resources that the British committed to it in the 1790s, it is actually puzzling why it doesn't get more focus, especially in the current day when colonialism, slavery, racism, etc. are dominant issues in western societies.

It's bleakly funny that in the British historical imagination, the 1790s are the time of Wilberforce. People are aware of France betraying the Haitians and trying to reimpose slavery and have absolutely no idea of the tens of thousands of Britons who fought a major campaign to extend tyranny through the islands.
 
Ultimately, Hughes opted to pursue a policy of “Sister Republics” similar to that in Europe. These were a mixed bag of democratic and anti-democratic beliefs, similar to Hughes’ own policies in Guadeloupe, with local parliaments, but with elections permanently displaced due to wartime emergency laws, and effectively functioned as French client states. The alternative was to federate them into a single republic, which Hughes viewed as more logical in light of their small size and non-viability as independent states, but he desired to ensure that they stayed firmly under his thumb and feared that a federation would be unwieldy and give rise to excessive independence.

Nevertheless, the Republics of Antigua, Grenada, Saint Vincent, and Dominica constituted the first officially independent nations in the Caribbean, and they did enjoy a real autonomy in drawing up their own constitutions, laws, and were even encouraged in establishing their own military units to assist with the war effort. As in Guadeloupe, this led a bifurcation of the status of the freed slaves in each of the islands, with the majority still tied to their plantations by restrictive policies, but an increasing minority gaining real freedom, arms, fighting experience, and even wealth in the army and as privateers, participating on raids that struck terror into the entire eastern Caribbean.
This is gonna have drastic effects on the Latin American War of Independence. As well as become an existential threat to the Slave owning states of the United States.
 
Chapter 23: The Years of the Sword V, The Sultan's Third Flight
The death of the Maratha Peshwa, Madhavrao II, plunged the Maratha Confederacy into a civil war. Maratha politics were highly complex, but the formal head of state, the Peshwa, was under the control of Nana Phadnavis, a Machiavellian eminence grise whose domination would drive the young Madhavrao II to his suicide and launch a succession struggle - one where there was no direct successor. This is all straightforward enough, but there were also major lords in play: most important of these were Shinde and Holkar. Shinde in the north had built up a formidable powerful European-style army with modern artillery and infantry, while Holkar in the center had a powerful military machine, if not quite as powerful as his northern rival. Other power players included Bajirao, the late Peshwa's cousin and the closest thing to a formal heir there was, and Bhonsle, the major eastern lord. The deadly game of musical chairs deserves its own dedicated discussion: for now, let it suffice that not all was well under heaven in Pune, the Maratha capital, as feuding factions saw the knives draw up.

The most crucial immediate development outside of the Maratha heartland, occurred in the south, where the Maratha army sieging the wartime Mysorean capital of Bangalore suddenly withdrew, general Parshuram Bhau leading his army back home, to involve himself in the Maratha power struggle, formally backing Bajirao, which would lead to him being installed as the Peshwa in 1796: it would be just the first step in the Maratha civil war, as Shinde’s powerful battle-hardened army moved south, smashing any opposition in its way, with only arrears of pay challenging it. It gave a blessed relief to the hopelessly embattled Mysoreans however, in the first miracle of the House of Mysore.

In response, Tipu Sultan of Mysore, jeeringly called the "Prisoner of Bangalore" during the Maratha siege, whose realm was crumbling under the immense pressure of British, Coorg, Travancore, Hyderabad, rebel, and until-now Maratha armies, seized his chance. There would be no hesitating as in 1794. He led his army west, past the deserted Maratha trench lines ringing Bangalore, escaping from the noose that had once wrapped about him, the tired cavalrymen on drooping horses, the infantry dust-stained, the artillery guns worn and drawn by battered teams: compared to the great columns that had once marched into Hyderabad, it was a bruised and ragged force. But morale had never been higher: had not the hand of God, Allah, fate, fortune, the deities, whatever you wished to call it, just shown itself? Even the dying are not yet dead, and with their last gasp the last Mysorean army was on the move. So they marched west, as Tipu threw the iron dice: he turned aside from his futile battles with the British and the Nizam’s conquering armies, and gambled everything on one last offensive to regain his lost kingdom. Tipu’s army marched on Seringapatam.

Seringapatam! His once-capital, and for the previous several years occupied by rebels of the Wodeyar dynasty. Formally, these rebels pledged loyalty to Chamaraja Wodeyar IX, although the Queen Mother, Maharani Lakshmammanni, bore much of the credit for organizing the Wodeyars’ triumph. Their victory had also brought the troops of the rebellious general Muhammad Ali into the fold, but this was a mixed blessing: they had low morale and little idea of what they were actually fighting for, beyond pay, and had already mutinied before. In any case however, they cemented the Wodeyars as a major military power in their own right, and enjoyed British subsidies and tax revenue from the western lands. But uncertain about his new army, and preferring to rely upon stone, Chamaraja chose to keep his armies inside Seringapatam and to await Tipu’s counter-attack behind prepared bastions.

In this, his decision was a wise one. Seringapatam was a heavily fortified city, and for Tipu, lacking in a heavy siege train, it might as well be upon the moon for all the good being in front of the walls would do for him. His light field pieces might have fired against the walls until the Day of Resurrection and still barely budged a stone. In disgust, he was about to turn his armies away and to try to bypass the city, when the second miracle of the house of the House of Mysore intervened: French technician and adventurer Jacques Levant proposed to him a thoroughly unorthodox plan….

Jacques Levant was an unorthodox man himself. He was an engineer, trained in the Ecole des ponts et chaussées, the foremost French engineering school in the dying years of the ancien régime. When the Revolution broke out he served in the revolutionary engineering and construction corps, but what caught his attention was his interest for balloons. Knowing Tipu Sultan’s intense interest for any technical devices, and aware of the estrangement between Mysore and France due to the sheer distance between them, the Committee of Public Safety decided to send a balloon corps to Mysore, similar to how in France they were preparing for the development of balloons that would lead, in 1794, to balloons being deployed at Fleurus. Levant enthusiastically volunteered, excited about the prospect of visiting a foreign land.

His voyage to India, onboard a French frigate squadron, was a difficult one, plagued by having to escape eager Royal Navy pursuers, storms, and the ever-present threat of disease, but in the end, in 1794, he arrived in India safe and sound. He showed off his balloon to the Sultan, who was delighted with it, as he was with most mechanical and scientific devices, ranging from European gun-milling machines, to microscopes, to clocks. When the balloon, carted up by buffalo train to Bangalore, sailed up into the cool morning air, it was to the awe and the astonishment of the sultan and the entire city – the first flying man-made object in India.

Unfortunately for Jacques, after his first few demonstrations, the rest of his stay in India was looking distinctly boring. He had ambitions of using his balloon to provide aerial reconnaissance to support the Mysorean armies, and indeed tried exactly this, but most battles in India were too quick and fast with lightning cavalry raids to enable the balloon to be of much use since by the time it was set up, he had ascended, observed the enemy, and sent back down messages, and these messages relayed (and translated) to Tipu, the only Mysorean army commander who had much use for it, the battle was already over. The Carnatic battles might have been the change in his fortunes, since they was the first real pitched battles he was witness to,, but with the hasty deployment of the Mysorean army on the field of battle, his balloon was still trapped back in the traffic jam of the Mysorean baggage and supply line. The only real employment Jacques got out of his balloon was for propaganda purposes, which proved to be a hit admittedly given the amazement that Indians expressed before the balloon rising into the sky, but very far from his dreams of a military triumph.

Somehow Jacques kept up with the rapid retreat of Tipu’s army from the Carnatic, fighting to keep his draft animals and their handlers in line and cooperating in moving his crated up balloon the hundreds upon hundreds of kilometers across southern India. It would have driven most men insane, but Jacques was driven by dreams of managing to make his fame in India, and with brutal, stubborn determination he drove his subordinates forward. Beasts fell by the road, peasants shuddered under his lash, but he kept the balloon moving remarkably swiftly - all in time just to get back to Bangalore, besieged, an inspiration to the besieged and useful for spying on the surrounding earthworks, but not much else. Like Tipu, his lucky break came with the Peshwa’s death and with his old resilience he tramped along with the army to Seringapatam.

Jacques had been impressed time and time again by the sheer degree of reverence and amazement that the Indians had expressed for his balloon, and he was also a man deeply impressed by Tipu. He was also something of a romantic, and the plan he came up with was as simple as it was insane: to use the balloon to loft Tipu, with him Jacques, and a few officers, into Seringapatam, and to convince the garrison to surrender. The Mysorean army was positioned to the north-east of the city, and so prevailing winds in the dry season, outside of the monsoon, meant that they would be, if all went well, able to float into the fortress. Of course the entire idea was from the realm of fantasies: the fort was far too small of a target, the Sultan’s life far too valuable to risk, and the winds far too potentially chaotic. But Jacques didn’t mention the drawbacks on the technical side.

It was a stunning proposal, and one which would never have been accepted except under the conditions of the most absolute duress. But Levant had judged his man right. It was exactly the sort of daring scheme using modern technology which appealed to the sultan, and just the sort of idea whose severe failings, such as the lack of any guidance, were not obvious to the neophyte. Tipu agreed. Ignorance is bless.

When the balloon rose up into the sky, in the still-cool morning airs, to the British advisors embarked upon the other side of the city, who had never seen a hot air balloon before, it was an incredible sight. For anyone else, it was a miraculous apparition. A crowd of bearers tugged the ropes forward on the balloon forward towards the city, and with a few close brushes – at one point their movement was so rapid that it nearly caused the basket to tumble over and spill its inhabitants out to the hard cold ground below – they got it going to the city, remarkably closely in fact, well within gun range, since the inhabitants were far too amazed at the balloon to shoot at them. And the wind, incredibly, stayed on path, and incredibly the balloon arrived over the city, and Jacques brought it down as he vented gas, managing to, with the body weight of the passengers, steer it to one of the squares near the gates.

The balloon landed with a heavy thud on the ground, almost knocking them over, but Tipu, a cavalryman used to such shocks, weathered the blow and jumped out. There was an assembled crowd of gaping people and in yet another strike of fortune a line of rebel soldiers formerly in Muhammad Ali's army there, looking confused, puzzled, and frightened, but armed. One of them started to raise his gun…

Dramatically, Tipu stepped forward and declared “I am your sultan, Tipu, lord of Mysore. Shoot me if you wish.” Wide-eyed, stunned at the sudden appearance of Tipu, the rebellious troops wavered, and Tipu stepped forward again and declared “Now open the gates and rally to me. Those who fight with me will be honored and rewarded, and those who fight against me will be dogs consigned to the lowest circle of hell!”

And thus the guards opened the gates, and true to his word, Tipu protected them, and the Mysorean army flooded in in the confusion. Remarkably, the city experienced little violence save for some intermittent looting, and the banner of the sultan flew over it, while the Wodeyar King Chamaraja was ferreted out and imprisoned for the time being, while Tipu dined in style that evening in his palace, delighted to refind his harem, wife, and most of his children were still there, although enraged that a few children had been taken away by the British for education in Bengal. The British and rebel armies were paralyzed at the event, and the already fragile morale of the armies of the late Muhammad Ali, amalgamated with the Wodeyars, shattered entirely. Never had there been a more heartfelt celebration in Tipu’s life, never had what alcohol there was flowed more freely, Koranic prohibitions be damned, never had the troops paraded more spiritedly, never had the fireworks and the fêtes been more brilliant! For a night, the war was over, in that bejeweled day of Seringapatam!

Truly the Years of the Swords were ones of suffering, for the very next morning, when dawn had barely risen, soldiers were dragged with pounding hangovers from protesting fairer companions and away from soft beds: Tipu, indefatigable as always, wasn’t going to let time slip through his fingers and lose his greatest victory, and once more the armies marched west.

It would be a whirlwind campaign that followed, Tipu’s march to the sea, the Mysorean light cavalry on their haggard horses, unable to be replenished after years of blockade, galloping along the mountain roads and along caravans of pack buffalo, as city after city surrendered - Mysore itself, Madikeri, Bidanu, Keladi, Bekala, the northern cities formerly held by the Marathas, and most dramatically of all, Mangalore, a British frigate squadron barely escaping from the city as the Mysorean cavalry closed in, and who captured intact the city’s docks, fortifications, and the remnants of the Mysorean navy, that French propagandists willingly compared to French cavalry seizing the ice-bound Dutch fleet in 1795. At a stroke, Tipu, the cornered fox, given up for dead, had roared back to life, and washed his sword and turban in the waters of the Arabian Sea.

The greatest laments and terror was the Christian population left behind, who Tipu blamed for collaborating with the British during the conquest of the Malabar coast: his actions were ugly, with mass deportations back to the interior, and forcible marriage of the women to Muslims. Tipu’s triumph was their tragedy, but there was no denying that for Tipu, it was the greatest victory of his life. The hand of fate had catapulted the tragic, embattled, doomed prisoner of Bangalore to a conqueror astride southern India as quickly as it had once laid him low.

These triumphs had to be weighed against however, the collapse of the Carnatic, as the British and the Nizam’s armies completed their conquests, defeating the remnants of Mysorean and French units. Both exhausted sides looked ready to prepare for the next climatic showdown, the next great campaign, the next final battle. Except…

Historians have shaken their heads at the events of Seringapatam, at the unlikeliness and miraculousness of it all. But the dawn of 1797 brought the real miracle, for after a grueling four years of war, the impossible happened - peace broke out.
 
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Delightful. The balloon ride is thoroughly implausible, and yet perfectly plausible; it is exactly the sort of escapade that would appeal to Tipu, and if ninety nine times out of a hundred timelines it was a disaster, in this one it is the sort of thing that becomes a legend far beyond India.

Clever Brandenburg parallels too.
 
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