#historical analysis

Idk why the last anon called me a white woman. But they made me realize there was one more analysis post from Reddit I hadn't migrated here.

This post is borne out of a conversation I was having with someone originally on Tumblr. The original poster had expressed some doubts about the veracity of Armand's story of how he became enslaved, and made some great points about how his memory may have been tampered by Marius. While I agreed with the broad strokes of the post, something stood out to me that I don't necessarily agree with. The poster said that there would be no merchant vessels in Delhi, since it's a land-locked area, and therefore that's some evidence for his memory being tampered with when it came to his experiences as a slave. I don't want to go into the nitty-gritties of the post cos it was very nuanced, but I wanted to lend this perspective as an Indian (and someone from Delhi!), because this was something that had struck with me as well on my first viewing of the show.

I think the geographical point might be overextended a bit, because Delhi not being a port city doesn’t actually make Armand’s story impossible. In the 1500s (and I have dated this to early 1500s, during the waning years of the Delhi Sultanate), maritime merchants sent agents far inland, and enslaved people were routinely moved from places like Delhi to west-coast ports by caravan, so a child sold in Delhi absolutely could end up on a ship without ever living near the ocean. His parents wouldn’t have had to travel hundreds of miles to personally sell him off, because the slavers and brokers handled that. To simplify, the absence of a local port doesn’t negate his story; it simply means that the first leg of his journey would have been overland rather than by river or sea. These inland-to-coast trafficking networks were not anomalies but a foundational part of the Indian Ocean economy, so his story fits comfortably within the historical realities of the period. I’ll include a couple of sources to support this claim further. To be clear, the stretch of the seas that would land Armand in Europe from India would be the Arabian Sea. Someone asked me about the Yamuna being possibly used as the main river in Delhi -  the Yamuna does not flow to the Arabian Sea or to any west-coast port. It joins the Ganga and flows east toward the Bay of Bengal, so the opposite direction from where Armand would need to go to reach a European-bound ship. It's also not used much for major commercial waterways.

Sources for the historians of the Indian Ocean slave trade describing maritime merchants relying on inland brokers and caravan networks to source enslaved people from interior India and move them to ports like Goa and Gujarat:

On a related note, I thought I’d chime into the larger fandom consensus that Armand is Muslim. To be perfectly honest, I don't see him as Muslim (or at least born Muslim), for a few reasons. So I have dated his date of birth to 1508 AD, a couple of decades away from the decline of the Delhi Sultanate and the beginning of the Mughal Empire. One of the first things to note is his name - Arun. Now, I know that he's a little unsure of his name, but let's say it *is* Arun. The Indian subcontinent had primarily been Hindu, till Islam arrived during the 7th century I think, but Islam’s influence particularly strengthened during the Delhi Sultanate and Mughal Empire eras, and a large portion of the local population converted to Islam. I don't want to get into the reasons behind that, they're complex and multi-factorial, but what's interesting to me in particular is that his name was Arun.

Now, if you know anything about Hindu names (I am an atheist but born into a Hindu family), Arun is like, almost stereotypically a Hindu name. The name means dawn, and is another name for the charioteer of Surya or the Sun (who is also worshipped as a God). So it's like, a name so deeply entwined with Hindu culture.

Typically during conversions to another religion, in this case from Hinduism to Islam, your name would also undergo a change, to something Persian or Arabic, not just to visibly identify with your new religion, but also because Hindu names are deeply entwined with your caste. This is where caste becomes impossible to ignore, because names, religion, and caste identity were tightly interwoven in 1500s North India. Again, caste is like, a deeply problematic (to say the least) but inevitable part of Hindu society, so I genuinely doubt that if he or his family had converted to Islam, they would retain their Hindu names. Something else to note - conversions would happen primarily for lower-caste Hindu people due to their social struggles as opposed to higher-caste Hindus, and it would be even more important for them to then visibly identify as Muslim. Conversion to Islam would mean being free of the shackles of the caste system (theoretically speaking - even in this day and age, the caste system has a stranglehold on Indian society, and non-Hindus are not always exempt from it either). Caste wasn’t just an identity marker - the roots of the caste system lie in identifying one’s occupation, social interactions, and mobility, which meant names (to this day, especially surnames) functioned like public caste indicators. Retaining a Hindu name after conversion would have kept those caste associations intact, and would undermine the very social protections and new status that conversion often provided. That’s why the continuity of a name like Arun makes his being born Muslim feel less likely in the historical context.

Ofc, there's a chance that he might have forgotten his Muslim name had there been conversion, but I doubt that. I leave space for that ambiguity. As for the Islamic prayers he offers in Dubai, I think of it as part of his cosplay as Fake Rashid. Again, I leave space for nuance here. He could have been drawn to Islam later on in life and might not strictly or visibly identify as Muslim, but given that religion played a key role in Bookmand's life, he might have been drawn to it. Unless you're deeply familiar with the Indian caste system and how fucked up it is, I can see how someone might very easily assume that he is (or born) Muslim. Again, I'm painting broad strokes for this, so my word isn't absolute and I don't like to give black and white answers cos nothing is set in stone when it comes to Indian culture especially. But I've yet to hear of Arun being a common  Indian Muslim name :)

Has reading Philippe and the Chevalier's biographies been turning me into an actual shipper? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-----

Okay so it totally did and I really wanted to translate this particular passage from Chev's bio because it's just... everything to me in this particular moment.

Also, yeah, it motivated me to depict their relationship which is definitely not necessarily "equal" but far more reciprocal, in a very literal sense, than what either have typically been credited for historically.

More (a lot more), including the translation, below! oh, and isolated versions to better see, uwu

Hello! Absolutely, here you go! Sorry this took a bit of time to answer—though, you’ll see why.

For those unaware, this ask is in reference to this post about a TAI writing update.

On May 2nd, 1797, Alexander Hamilton wrote to his paternal uncle, William Hamilton. The elder Hamilton had written his nephew on March 10, but his letter has not been found. Its contents are made somewhat clear by Alexander Hamilton’s reply: his uncle had reached out with some form of praise, gave Hamilton an account of family happenings in Scotland which was “extremely gratifying,” and presumably asked about Hamilton’s life up until that point.

This letter is notable as it is one of only a few surviving instances of Hamilton speaking about his youth, and also for the fact that this letter contains the fullest account of Hamilton’s life written by himself. For that being the case, however, the account is very straightforward—but still quite interesting. As Hamilton did his usual, I will break this up into sections for reading convenience.

Hamilton wrote concerning his youth:

You no doubt have understood that my father’s affairs at a very early day went to wreck; so as to have rendered his situation during the greatest part of his life far from eligible. This state of things occasionned a separation between him and me, when I was very young, and threw me upon the bounty of my mothers [sic] relations, some of whom were then wealthy, though by vicissitudes to which human affairs are so liable, they have been since much reduced and broken up. Myself at about sixteen came to this Country. Having always had a strong propensity to literary pursuits, by a course of steady and laborious exertion, I was able, by the age of Ninteen to qualify myself for the degree of Batchelor [sic] of Arts in the College of New York, and to lay a foundation, by preparatory study, for the future profession of the law.

While most of this paragraph concerns James Hamilton Sr., any personal reflection by Hamilton of his parenting and “separation” is absent. Most of the emotion here is centered on his mother, Rachel Facucett’s “relations” who as we know did not do the best at helping after her death, and his father’s financial situation—which Hamilton assumes his uncle is familiar with already. What I find more surprising than the lack of further detail about his family is the complete omission of his time working as a clerk for Nicholas Cruger. This was the longest job that Hamilton ever held consecutively, and as recorded by his son in his biography consisted of what Hamilton believed to be his most valuable education. Why Hamilton left this out in his sketch is unknown. Perhaps he thought his uncle would not want to hear about the details, or he considered that period of his life with a tainted view—still agreeing with his younger self’s assessment that he “contemn[ed] the grov’ling and condition” of his clerkship. Or perhaps, in light of Cruger’s business having been international, and this letter to be traveling internationally, Hamilton kept the details to himself in case other eyes would be able to view it. In a world where reputations were everything, what you said about a person could have far reaching effects, and no one could predict whether their letter would miscarry.

Hamilton’s claim that he was sixteen upon arriving in the American colonies would place his birth year at 1756-57, but I’m not opening that can of worms. In all honesty, I find it baffling that the debate over his age has gotten so much attention, and so heated. We place higher value on birthdays than Hamilton or his contemporaries did, so to an extent our interest in this question does make sense, but knowing his exact age does not change the impact of what he said and did throughout his life. Personally, I’m now of the belief that Hamilton, like with many other small things (dinners, social events, conversations, his watch), possibly forgot his exact year of birth—he does clarify with the word “about” in this letter.

That Hamilton was “qualified” for “the degree of Batchelor of Arts” to then “lay a foundation, by preparatory study, for the future profession of the law” is some interesting phrasing. Qualified seems to stand in for earned, in light of Hamilton making a point to mention the “course steady and laborious exertion” he underwent to qualify for the degree. But… Alexander Hamilton did not earn his bachelor’s degree—nor was he ever close to qualifying to earn it. Having entered King’s College (which here he refers to as the “College of New York”—separating it from its direct monarchical ties) in about 1773, Hamilton matriculated the following spring, likely as a member of “the Sophmore class” according to his friend Hercules Mulligan. This means that in 1776, when he would have been nineteen, he would have had a full year remaining before he could receive his degree. By the time Hamilton wrote this letter to his uncle, he had been presented an honorary doctorate by Dartmouth College, but he made no mention of this honorary degree in this letter. Hamilton choosing to present himself to his uncle as a degree holding lawyer is an interesting move, knowing that this was the first time Hamilton had any contact with his paternal family in a number of years. Like with smoothing over the details of his youth, this framing by Hamilton smoothes over the detail that he dropped out of college and never got his degree. The result begins to be a bit of a glossy picture. Hamilton was of course not the only student for whom the war upended their studies, resulting in losses of degrees earned, and he would have been well aware of this in light of continued relations with some of his college friends—making this presentation quite interesting.

Of his service in the American Revolution Hamilton continued:

The American Revolution supervened. My principles led me to take part in it. At nineteen I entered into the American army as Captain of Artillery. Shortly after, I became by his invitation Aide De Camp to General Washington, in which station, I served till the commencement of that Campaign which ended with the seige of York[town], in Virginia, and the Capture of Cornwallis’s Army. This Campaign I made at the head of a corps of light infantry, with which I was present at the seige of York[town] and engaged in some interesting operations.

Clearly, Hamilton was very proud of his participation at Yorktown, for starters. But more seriously, this brief section is interesting. Prior to being appointed captain of the New York Provincial Company of Artillery in March of 1776, Hamilton served in a local New York militia company named the Corsicans (and later possibly the Hearts of Oak) which, according to Nicholas Fish, he joined soon after the news of the battles of Lexington and Concord reached New York City on April 23, 1775. In June, Hamilton appeared on a list of men who, if the provincial government thought it necessary to raise its own troops, would be recommended for officer positions. This being not long after he had enlisted, it is interesting to see here that Hamilton completely omits this piece of the puzzle. Additionally, Hamilton does not explain what his “principles” which led him to “take part in” the war were, nor the challenges he faced while serving as Washington’s aide. With these details not included, the detail that “by his invitation” Hamilton became Washington’s aide serves to benefit both he and Washington’s public perceptions. That Washington invited Hamilton is true, but in the absence of nuance this detail holds significant weight, adding to the more rosy story Hamilton tells about himself in this letter.

Of his career following the war, Hamilton explained:

At the period of the peace with Great Britain, I found myself a member of Congress by appointment of the legislature of this state.

After the peace, I settled in the City of New York in the practice of the law; and was in a very lucrative course of practice, when the derangement of our public affairs, by the feebleness of the general confederation, drew me again reluctantly into public life. I became a member of the Convention which framed the present Constitution of the U States; and having taken part in this measure, I conceived myself to be under an obligation to lend my aid towards putting the machine in some regular motion. Hence I did not hesitate to accept the offer of President Washington to undertake the office of Secretary of the Treasury.

In that office, I met with many intrinsic difficulties, and many artificial ones proceeding from passions, not very worthy, common to human nature, and which act with peculiar force in republics. The object, however, was effected, of establishing public credit and introducing order into the finances.

That Hamilton only gives a one sentence paragraph to his first term serving in Congress both saddens and intrigues me. I’m particularly interested in how he acted in that body—how he voted, who he worked with and against, what the impact of his proposed legislation was or would have been, and ultimately how all of that shaped his early politics. But here, Hamilton seems to rush over it—only mentioning it due to having been appointed by the New York legislator, and thus adding to the “clean” picture. No details about his challenges during the 1782-1783 session, his collaboration with James Madison, or that he left the session early out of frustration, are mentioned. To Hamilton’s credit, the things he wanted to accomplish in that term did not see fruition until long after it, and a story in which you do not overcome your challenges is not always an enjoyable one. Going further on omissions, Hamilton does not discuss his second term in Congress (1788) or his time in the New York Assembly in 1787 at all—only stating that the “derangement of our public affairs . . . drew me again into public life.” Hamilton did indeed desire after his first term in Congress to remain a private citizen—going so far as to write a letter to Samuel London, publisher of the New York Packet in December of 1783 that he was “determined to decline public office” and wanted to make this determination clear in light of ongoing elections for the New York legislator, wherein Hamilton’s name appeared on a list for the Assembly, “to avoid in any degree distracting the votes of my fellow citizens.” However, Hamilton’s lengthy record of advocating for change during the 1780s stands to show that despite feeling “reluctant” he acted quite fervently. Though, I do find this admission interesting for the sake of personal reflection; Hamilton’s private letters during this decade are sparse—in light of secrecy rules within the Confederation Congress, and the 1911 New York State Archives fire which destroyed much of the Assembly’s papers pertaining to the session in which Hamilton served. Hamilton further admitting he thought it was his “obligation to led aid to” the Constitution’s “defense” is just one of those golden quotes in my book. This positioning does further service to the idea of this mini autobiography was written in such a way as to give William Hamilton a rosy picture of his nephew, but Hamilton did explain to James Madison in June of 1788—days before the New York Ratifying Convention was to begin—that “[f]or my own part the more I can penetrate the views of the Antifœderal party in this state, the more I dread the consequences of the non adoption of the Constitution by any of the other states, the more I fear an eventual disunion and civil war.” In essence, Hamilton thought it was his responsibility to see the successful ratification of the Constitution, or else the Union would dissolve into civil war (Hamilton made similar statements about his worries of civil war in other places, but to go through all those instances would result in a long tangent).

Hamilton’s paragraph concerning his tenure as Treasury secretary contains more of the same framing which flows throughout this account. The major difference, though, is the acknowledgment of “difficulties” that arose. It’s clear that the reason this was mentioned was purely for the satisfactory outcome—unlike his legislative service, Hamilton overcame the obstacles put in his way, making for a good story from his perspective. That Hamilton’s opposition was motivated by “passions, not very worthy,“ positions Hamilton on a moral high ground, which he did not stand on in reality. This streak of politics is further interesting for how simultaneously honest and vague it is. It acts as a small kernel of persuasion: presumably, William Hamilton had heard reports of his nephew’s actions while in Washington’s administration, and this is Hamilton’s way to guide the narrative in the direction he wanted. The short of this entire analysis boils down to that, but the notion stands out here.

Hamilton then goes on to discuss his thoughts on public office and the Treasury department further:

Public Office in this Country has few attractions. The pecuniary emolument is so inconsiderable as too amount to a sacrifice to any man who can employ his time with advantage in any liberal profession. The opportunity of doing good, from the jealousy of power and the spirit of faction, is too small in any station to warrant a long continuance of private sacrifices. The enterprises of party had so far succeeded as materially to weaken the necessary influence and energy of the Executive Authority, and so far diminish the power of doing good in that department as greatly to take the motives which a virtuous man might have for making sacrifices. The prospect was even bad for gratifying in future the love of Fame, if that passion was to be the spring of action.

The Union of these motives, with the reflections of prudence in relation to a growing family, determined me as soon as my plan had attained a certain maturity to withdraw from Office. This I did by a resignation about two years since; when I resumed the profession of the law in the City of New York under every advantage I could desire.

It is a pleasing reflection to me that since the commencement of my connection with General Washington to the present time, I have possessed a flattering share of his confidence and friendship.

This first paragraph is lovely for how bluntly Hamilton lays out his dislike and dissatisfaction with the costs of public service. At the same time, some frustration is clearly present in this paragraph that may have been left over from his time in office. The allusion to the effects of budding party politics on the executive branch indicates that Hamilton’s actual subject is his time in Washington’s cabinet. For a letter which was to be delivered across an ocean and could, as mentioned earlier, have miscarried easily, these thoughts are strikingly introspective and make me wonder at how Hamilton balanced the pros and cons of admitting them against the standing of his reputation. The emotion present in this paragraph is fascinating and does make me wonder how much of it was genuine or performative. Though, compared to the more straightforward story being laid out prior, this does come off as a bit of a pivot—or perhaps justification and intended contextual information.

The mentioning of Washington’s friendship on the other hand is no random inclusion. Hamilton understood Washington’s public perception, and directly tying himself to Washington in a letter to an almost complete stranger gives him some credibility. Hamilton’s shiny and polished narrative is admirable to the reader, but ending this section with the note that George Washington was his friend and supporter for many years adds to the polish. Of course, Hamilton did not always agree with Washington, but his thoughts there were only admitted in private to trusted ears.

Hamilton then transitions into discussing his private life:

In the year 1780 I married the second daughter of General Schuyler, a Gentleman of one of the best families of this Country; of large fortune and no less personal and public consequence. It is impossible to be happier than I am in a wife and I have five Children, four sons and a daughter, the eldest a son somewhat passed fifteen, who all promise well, as far as their years permit and yield me much satisfaction. Though I have been too much in public life to be wealthy, my situation is extremely comfortable and leaves me nothing to wish but a continuance of health. With this blessing, the profits of my profession and other prospects authorise an expectation of such addition to my resources as will render the eve of life, easy and agreeable; so far as may depend on this consideration.

This paragraph is very sweet and a nice turn from the more gloomy discussions of public office and politics. However, what is most striking is Hamilton’s remark that “[i]t is impossible to be happier than I am in a wife.” Two months after the writing of this letter, in August of 1797, the “Reynolds Pamphlet” would be published. And before that, rumors had been circulating about Hamilton’s affair with Maria Reynolds. What is also interesting is that even speaking of the present, Hamilton maintains a “clean” and rosy picture of himself and his life.

It didn’t work.

Killing Julius Caesar didn’t stop Rome from becoming an Empire. If anything it expedited the process. Because all the assassination did was turn Caesar into a martyr for his family and followers to turn into a standard to rally behind. The Republic fell, the Empire rose, and Caesar’s Assassination was the tipping point of it all.

In fact, there’s evidence Caesar had knowledge of the planned Assassination and went anyway, knowing what his death would turn him into. But why?

Fascists don’t get turned on by their followers when they die. They get turned on when they look weak.

By the time of his death, Caesar was sick. There’s evidence that he was incontinent and beginning to have mental problems. All in all, things that made him look weak.

I can’t say what would have happened in Brutus and the Senate had stayed their hand, but history would not have turned out the same way. Certainly, Caesar would not have been turned into a martyr with his assassination. If his followers had seen Caesar as he was, a shambling, dying, sick old man, would that have turned them on him? I can’t say.

It Was Never About the Witches - An Analysis of Belos’ Motivations from a Narrative, Historical, and Human Perspective

TW: mentions of incest, domestic violence, cults

Everybody tends to focus on the witch-hunting as the reason for Belos’ genocidal campaign, but I disagree. Belos’ obsession with witch hunting is akin to Luz’s obsession with “Good Witch Azura”: a shield for the real issues at play. 

Why do I say it wasn’t about the witch-hunting? I have two big reasons. One of those is because of the narrative structure of the show. The other is because historically, the witch hunts were never about the witches.

First, the narrative reasons

Luz and Belos are mirrors for each other

The show does a lot to play Luz and Belos off each other. They both start off with the idea that they’re something special in this world. They’re both semi-outsiders in Gravesfield; it’s stated that the brothers moved there later. They both have a fascination with glyph magic. I don’t think it is for nothing that one of Luz’s nightmares is becoming another Belos.

I don’t think it is unreasonable to say that witch hunting to Phillip was like Good Witch Azura was to Luz - a sort of an escapist fantasy. Fantasy in Phillip’s case is more the “when I grow up” type than the explicitly fictional sort, but more on that later. Right now, my point is that, in the same way that Luz had a hard time bonding a palisman because “be a witch” wasn’t her deepest wish, “be a witch hunter” wasn’t actually Phillip’s.

Which brings us to the historical reasoning:

It is NEVER about the witches.

Witch hunts don’t happen in a vacuum. Natural medicine was not uncommon. Kitchen gardens would have a selection of medical herbs grown alongside vegetables. Weird witchy sounding superstitions were not uncommon. Most of the time, nobody cared. 

We need to start thinking of witch hunts as less about the interplay of science and superstition and more about community scapegoating. The blaming of those things was because they needed to find a witch, so they will take any “evidence” they could find. Women were disproportionately targeted because they were lessers in society, and therefore more expendable.

I say this because there is this tendency to think of ourselves as so much better, so much more enlightened. We aren’t. We just find different witches. Scapegoating when things are going wrong is a way of feeling like you have control over a situation where you don’t.

That is the key ingredient in most witch hunts: a desire for control. Something bad is happening that you can’t explain or do anything about, and you don’t like feeling helpless to deal with it. Maybe it is an illness. Maybe it is the effects of war, or the longer-term effects of a natural disaster. These days we just find different witches. My culty fundamentalist upbringing had gay people.  I read a book in history class that claimed the Roman Empire fell because they were okay with gay people. More secular societies may blame immigrants, or completely innocuous religious practices that don’t affect anybody. (I’m looking at you, Quebec.)

Sometimes you do have a case where somebody is spearheading a witch hunt with malicious intent or, in the case of Belos, because they are completely incapable of recognizing that they may have messed up. You need some sort of power to do that, and even then It’s hard to do without the community dissatisfaction to back you up.

So if it wasn’t about the witch-hunting what was it?

We got the answer explicitly stated in the show, within a narrative structure that suggests that it was what was actually going on. (Paraphrased) “Sounds like Big Bro got a hot witch girlfriend and Little Bro couldn’t cope.”

The plans for the Day of Unity were less an obsession with witch hunting, and more the result of a centuries-long crash-out because his brother didn’t want to be his and only his. It wasn’t even choosing Evelyn instead of him. We can tell from the Hollow Mind portraits and the rebuses that Caleb didn’t think it had to be either his brother or his lover. 

Yes, that does sound incestuous, and the discomfort of that may be why I often see it left out of analysis of Belos’ actions. It’s inescapable though. The closest real world behaviour I can think of are the family annihilators who think their partner will leave them, or stalker exes who, in addition to their former partner, try to kill as many of the people their partner “chose” over them.

Does that mean that Belos was not racist against witches? Absolutely not, and I never said that. I AM saying that if Caleb had run off to Rhode Island and married a Quaker, Phillip would have been trying to replicate the Boston Martyrs in Connecticut, and later used King Phillip’s War as an excuse to mess up Rhode Island. I’d say lol about the name, but that was one of those wars that was an excuse to kill a bunch of indigenous people, so I won’t.

Puritans hated Quakers just as much as they hated witches; he could have easily justified it. Also, here is my usual rant that witch hunts weren’t Puritan-exclusive, and the thing that made Puritan New England uniquely horrifying was that it was a massive cult compound. One of the factors that led to the Salem Witch Trials was anxiety because it was getting harder for town authorities to establish their usual level of behavioural control.

Side note: The colonies of Providence Plantations and Rhode Island were explicitly established as places for people who were fed up with Puritan bullshit. Both colonies were started by ex-Puritans who got out. And, as ironic as Phillip murdering his brother in the city of brotherly love would be, this is pre-Pennsylvania, so that easy Quaker sanctuary isn’t an option. Look, Caleb was gonna run off to a red island one way or another.

I may have headcanoned Roger Williams as Caleb’s “Good Witch Azura,” because running away from Puritan nonsense in the most dramatic way possible and finding a home where the people Puritans want gone are just your friends and neighbours sounds pretty on-point. Phillip wants to become witchhunter-general like self-proclaimed “Witchfinder-General” Matthew Hopkins. Caleb wants to run away to Rhode Island in a blizzard.

So where does witch-hunting fit into it?

Here’s where we get more into my idea of Phillip’s obsession being more of an escapist fantasy.

The big driver is my history nerd side. There’s no way those two would be able to maintain a living from witch hunting. 

First off, that’s rarely how it worked. There was one case where it did - aforementioned Matthew Hopkins - he did his thing in the more populated England. Also, I’m personally convinced he was a con man. He made his money by going to villages that were already on edge because of the English Civil Wars, claiming to be an “expert” with a fake title, and said “I have the answer to your problems, you just have to pay me!”

That is the exact plot of The Music Man, except that Hopkins wasn’t selling musical instruments, he was selling murder.

Then, when that con ran thin and he wanted to retire, he wrote a book so he could still make money from it. It’s play-for-play from the grifter handbook.

That book, “The Discovery of Witches,” was influential in the Connecticut Witch Trials, which is the other reason I like seeing Hopkins as Phillip’s Azura. He even had a book to be obsessed with. Also, Belos did ultimately become a con man in a similar vein with his “wild witch” thing.

Now, conceivably, Phillip could have found a career where authority in witch hunts would have been a small part of the job, but that would have required him to become part of the clergy. That would have required higher education though, and Harvard seems like it would have been financially out of reach. There are records of clergymen complaining that they weren’t paid enough to send their own sons to Harvard; Caleb and Phillip wouldn’t have had a chance.

(Trivia: Harvard College was established so that Puritans in New England could train up new members of the clergy without sending them all the way back to England.)

Do I doubt that it was something he and Caleb shared? Absolutely not. I think the fact that it was probably contributed to Phillip’s crash-out. But, if we see it as ultimately an escapist fantasy that they got the opportunity to act on once or twice, that allows for a sort of nuance that you don’t get when you take the story presented in Gravesfield at face value. To be clear, I don’t think Gravesfield was lying, per se. I do think they were exaggerating a story they found mentions of once or twice to get tourism dollars like Salem.

Phillip can be all-in on the witch-hunting thing while Caleb’s attitude toward it could be just about anywhere. I personally like the idea that Caleb tacitly encouraged it because it kept attention off of him.

Anybody else notice that the source for the most stereotypically witchy nose in the show is a human? And, as orphans, they would have been in that group of society undesirables that would have made them easy targets should a scapegoat “witch” be desired to pin a town’s problems on. And, given the overall themes of the show, I suspect they were both pretty obviously neurodivergent. I mean, literal masks are a whole-ass theme.

At least they weren’t women. Even then, their sex wouldn’t have been a guarantee of safety. Caleb is the older one, so even if he isn’t explicitly aware of the danger, he’s going to be aware of it on some level. He doesn’t get any sort of bigger dreams. They gotta live somehow.

So here are these brothers, almost certainly with major attachment trauma, skirting a pretty dangerous place to be in Puritan society, seemingly united by a fantasy that’s only a fantasy in the sense that it’s not financially viable. At least Luz knew Good Witch Azura was fiction.

Then Caleb falls in love with a witch and leaves. Caleb’s perspective makes sense. The Boiling Isles would have felt significantly safer, and, if he is also struggling with the realization that they had been wrong about witches all along, he wouldn’t want to keep that up any longer. That’s how people get killed.

But, for whatever reason, he has done jack-all prior to temper Phillip’s witch hunter dreams. It is hard to change minds from that. Either because Caleb was too ashamed to say anything to Phillip after so long, or he did, and Phillip didn’t listen, Caleb seemingly abandoned his brother. But not really. He did leave behind the rebuses. He wanted Phillip to follow him.

That’s not what Phillip sees though. Witch hunting matters because that was the thing that, from his perspective, he and his brother shared. Given religious beliefs at the time, “he was bewitched” is not a completely unreasonable explanation for his brother’s sudden switch-up.

It’s also the reason that allows him to keep the idealized version of Caleb that exists in his head. It’s not dissimilar from the way some parents will try to blame others for their children’s actions that they disagree with. “He surrounded himself with the wrong people.” “She’s not gay; it’s because the woke agenda has made LGB123 cool now.” “He stopped talking to me because his partner made him.”

Hey, look, smaller scale witch-hunting!

It can be hard to accept when somebody you supposedly love does something you disagree with. That means giving up control. Taken to extremes, it means denying that person any agency in their own life. That person isn’t a person, they are a thing that you are owed.

(Insert quote from another notable witch about sin beginning when you see people as things. GNU Terry Pratchett)

Suddenly witch hunting has gone from a thing they shared to a Phillip’s coping strategy for his brother choosing to leave him. Caleb didn’t choose to leave. He was stolen from him.

Phillip had evidence that Caleb acted on his own free will though. He had the rebus. That didn’t register in his head though.

I don’t think Phillip set out with the intent of killing his brother. The cycle of grimwalkers suggests that. I’m fairly certain he set out with the intent of killing Evelyn and bringing his brother back. 

I rather suspect Phillip may have had a hard time coping in Gravesfield without Caleb as well. I don’t take his view in Hollow Mind of himself as a kid at face value (pretty big age jump between that and Phillip arriving in the Isles), although it is possible he was. Phillip was at least as old as Caleb was when their parents died, which may have factored into Caleb’s thinking. Even if Phillip was older, he definitely hasn’t been set up for success. First off, inevitable attachment trauma in a place unsympathetic to inevitable attachment trauma. Additionally, if we accept my theory that Caleb was afraid of getting accused of witchcraft himself, he did basically nothing to disavow Phillip of that fantasy, at least not enough for Phillip to easily adapt.

Bringing Caleb back also means restoring Phillip to his rightful place in society, and maybe more. He’d be a hero, braving the depths of hell to rescue his brother.

The murder happened when Caleb made it clear that he was not appreciative of Phillip’s rescue attempts like he should have been. If Phillip is forcing him to choose, he is going to choose his wife and kid(s).  Phillip can’t accept that though. Caleb would never choose someone over him. This Caleb is broken, defective, and what do you do with broken things?

Everything that follows is an extended crash-out from that action. Suddenly there is no brother to bring back. Maybe he thought that at first that a grimwalker would provide him that, but that notion was pretty quickly dissuaded. To prove himself worthy of returning home, he’s going to need to do something big. Also, there’s almost certainly a revenge motive - witches stole Caleb; they ruined his life -  but Evelyn herself was out of reach.

It’s all a blame game. Phillip can’t accept that anything in Caleb’s life isn’t about him. No, the witches made Caleb do it. He can’t accept that much of his current state is the consequence of his own actions. The part that wasn’t, the part that wasn’t in his control, puts blame in an uncomfortable place.  He can’t accept that the toxicity of Puritan society, as well as his own brother’s mistakes in raising him, played a big part in his pain. No, much easier to blame the witches.

It’s a very human thing, but Belos wasn’t limited to human solutions. Humans don’t have access to magic that allows them to unnaturally extend their lives, nor immortal semi-deities with access to apocalypse level magic they don’t understand. Humans don’t have access to such a straightforward way to create new emotional security blankets like the grimwalker spell.

Belos was fundamentally human, like Luz, like us. His story is a cautionary tale of refusal to accept blame (or place it where it belongs), and seeing the world as revolving around yourself.

The pattern of who held and who folded after 9 Thermidor is one of the more revealing things about the people in Augustin's life: Nobody comes out of this entirely clean, and the variations are genuinely instructive.

A note on sourcing upfront: this post draws primarily on Mary Young's chapter 19, which is the most comprehensive account of the immediate post-Thermidor fates assembled anywhere. Endnote references are included where the underlying source matters.

Philippe Lebas: Chose Death

He shot himself on 9 Thermidor rather than submit to arrest. This requires no analysis — it's undoubtedly the cleanest data point in the whole file. He had dinner with Augustin, Maximilien, Saint-Just, and David four days earlier on the Champs-Élysées. He chose to die with them rather than survive without them. Young doesn't editorialize, and neither will I.

Jean-François Ricord: Held for Approximately Zero Days

The news reached Nice on 18 Thermidor. Ricord went to Grasse, read a letter, came back: He wrote a proclamation to the people of the Alpes-Maritimes that managed to announce the executions without naming Augustin specifically — letting the Convention's own proclamation carry that weight. Then the next day he wrote to the Committee directly:

"I blush to have been the friend of Robespierre the Younger. It is true that I thought him honest; but from the moment of his treason he had no more implacable enemy than me... I am sorry I was not in the Convention to vote for the deaths of the criminal scoundrels who had the audacity to conspire against liberty."

Young's comment: "It is a vain speculation to ask what Ricord really thought of Augustin. But Augustin had probably cuckolded him. He had also made his colleague's life difficult by prolonged absences in Vesoul and Paris; he had always been a law unto himself. Certainly, Ricord may finally have concluded, he owed nothing to the memory of his friend, now become a dangerous embarrassment."

It also emerged that Ricord had already suppressed a Committee decree ordering Haller's arrest and given him a passport to Genoa. He had, in other words, protected Haller while preparing to denounce Augustin. The surviving and the denunciation were coordinated acts, not impulsive reactions.

Ricord was eventually sent back to Paris and had to defend his actions before the Convention. No serious action was taken against him.

Saliceti: From Artistic Distance to Competitive Denunciation

Saliceti had been absent from the Army of Italy for months, but Thermidor gave him the opportunity to reconstruct his relationship to the whole Midi operation from the safety of Barcelonette. His letter to the Committee: "You know that since the expedition to Oneglia I have not been with the Army of Italy and even asked you to recall me. But I can explain, now that we are free, that I did not wish to participate in the enormous abuses which in this part of the world were authorised with an impudence which made all republicans mourn."

He then joined Laporte and Albitte in a collective letter accusing Augustin, Ricord, Haller, and Bonaparte of betraying military plans to the enemy. The theory is that: Napoleon's mysterious journey to Genoa was cover for delivering the French armies to Piedmont. This is the accusation that got Napoleon arrested for eleven days before it collapsed.

Haller: Made It Out

Ricord's passport got Haller to Genoa before the Committee's arrest warrant could catch him: He made his way to Switzerland. In after years he was employed by Napoleon — which is either poetic justice or the Revolution's standard operating procedure, depending on how you look at it. "Papa Haller," who had been feeding the Army of Italy while making a fortune on the side, outlasted everyone who'd tried to manage him.

Napoleon: The Complicated Clearing of His Name

Napoleon was arrested at Fort Carré at Antibes on 29 Thermidor on the strength of the Saliceti/Laporte/Albitte accusations. He wrote letters protesting his innocence. One of them — to Tilly, the French chargé d'affaires in Genoa — contains the line we've already quoted: "I was somewhat affected by the catastrophe of Robespierre the Younger, since I loved him and believed him pure, but had he been my father I would have stabbed him had he aspired to tyranny."

He was released on 24 August, too useful to stay imprisoned. When he encountered Barras again in October 1795 and needed to clear himself of Robespierrist associations, he did so by telling a story about Augustin's humanity — the orphaned child clothed and brought to his table, the boy refusing to drink to the Republic, Augustin telling Ricord "Respect such a character. You would not do as much in similar circumstances." Young's note: "Perhaps Augustin's reproach to his friend struck home." It's a curious thing, to use the man's decency as your alibi.

Boizot: Congratulated Himself

The National Agent of Vesoul — the man who had written florid Rousseauistic letters to La Saudraye about the beauties of local life while simultaneously trying to build his career around Augustin's connections — immediately sent a congratulatory letter to the Convention on news of Augustin's death. He was "even more delighted," per Girardot (vol. III, p. 157), when shortly after "there was a celebration in which the effigies of the Robespierres were burned to the sound of drums and dancing of the people."

He then composed a letter, supposedly from both himself and Viennot, stating that they had never "merited the horrible favour of the tyrant Robespierre" and that he himself had "resisted them when they had power." He wrote this while sitting on his own letter to Guillodon de La Saudraye, which began "every day they try to destroy you" and called her influence over Augustin irresistible: He could not get Viennot to sign the letter.

Viennot: The One Who Held

Viennot — the apothecary of Vesoul, in whose study Augustin had found copies of all Maximilien's speeches, for whom Augustin had written an impassioned defense when he was arrested by Bernard's people — refused to sign Boizot's letter: He had to send it under his own name alone.

Young: "Viennot behaved with more dignity. He always maintained that Augustin was worthy of a better fate."

That's the entirety of what we have about Viennot's post-Thermidor stance, and it's enough.

Bernard de Saintes: Still Going About It in June 1795

Bernard was "still racked by the thought of his weakness with Robespierre the Younger" months later. He wrote a long statement documenting Augustin's behavior toward him — how Augustin had sworn at Besançon to destroy him, how after Thermidor he had received a "host of letters congratulating me on my escape from this tyrant, who would not have hesitated to denounce me had he not been executed himself." He accused the people of Vesoul of planning to put up a column in Augustin's memory and encase his speeches in a leaden coffer.

The people of Vesoul, by June 1795, had "plucked up enough courage to answer back." They denied the column and the leaden coffer. They said: "Robespierre the Younger never flattered us and we flattered him still less. He treated us as good citizens; he simply gave us justice. We judged him by the civil and moral qualities he showed among us."

This is the closest thing in the record to a defense of Augustin by people with no political stake in defending him. They had every reason to stay quiet. They didn't.

Guillodon de La Saudraye: A Little House Near Sens

M. de La Saudraye died in the spring of 1795. The widowed Guillodon — the "much-talked-about ex-marchioness" who had walked out of the Besançon Jacobin Club when a tinsmith demanded her removal, who had lobbied for the Vesoul patriots after Augustin left, who had tried to use her contacts for the people who'd needed her help — was very badly off. She sold part of her late husband's library and bought herself a small house near Sens.

That's the last we hear of her.

Sauli: "Faithful to the Noble Principles of His Life"

Sauli was arrested immediately on his return to Genoa — "perhaps too ingenuous to make a really good spy," as Young puts it. He was imprisoned for six months. He bore his captivity, per his biographer Pellet, with cheerfulness, writing to his family and reading history. Afterward he became the editor of a liberal newspaper in Genoa. He died in 1841. Pellet's epitaph: "faithful to the noble principles of his life."

The village of Jussey, not content with removing Augustin's name from its minutes, also removed all mention of Sauli on grounds that he had been "close to odious conspirators." He outlived them by nearly fifty years. (wooooo!!!)

Buissart: Attacked, Survived, Respected

Buissart underwent "unpleasant attacks" because of his documented close friendship with the Robespierres. In the end it had to be acknowledged that he had done everything in his power to help Arras during the Terror — those desperate letters to Maximilien, his wife's long stay at the Duplay house, his advocacy for the imprisoned judges. He took no further part in public life: He lived to a respected old age in Arras. His sons — "the little marmots" of Augustin's letters — grew up to be well-known lawyers in the town.

Charlotte: The Longest Arc

Charlotte stayed in Paris, in considerable poverty, until Napoleon received her and granted her a pension. She then, being Charlotte, pestered Napoleon and Joséphine to such a degree that they eventually closed their doors to her. She survived until 1834, accumulating and then repudiating different versions of her brothers' story, eventually collaborating with Laponneraye on the Mémoires that tried to rehabilitate both of them — and in the process, as we've now established at length elsewhere on this blog, sometimes inventing details and sometimes getting things demonstrably wrong about her own testimony.

She compared herself to the mother of the Gracchi: She signed the letter "De Robespierre."

Young's note on her: brief, dry, kind — "poor Charlotte did not return to Arras."

Lebon: Guillotined

After Thermidor, Lebon was recalled and guillotined. Arras was restored to the tranquillity Augustin had spent weeks trying to obtain for it. The petition asking that Augustin be sent to Arras as representative on mission had apparently been delivered on 10 Thermidor. The day he died.

The Pattern / Overview

Looking at the whole list: the people who held — Viennot, Sauli, the citizens of Vesoul, eventually Buissart — were the ones Augustin had done something real for, with his own administrative authority, at actual cost to himself politically. Viennot was defended personally and publicly at a moment when that defense created enemies. The Vesoul citizens got justice when the pressure was all pointing toward denunciation. Sauli was taken seriously as a political interlocutor and treated as an intellectual equal.

The people who folded — Ricord, Boizot, Saliceti, Napoleon in the first instance — were the ones for whom the relationship had been more complicated: mixed with self-interest, or with political calculation, or with the kind of intimacy that could too easily be reframed as manipulation or complicity once the wind changed.

Boizot is the clearest example of the second type. He'd written to La Saudraye calling Augustin irresistible and then burned his effigy while trying to get Viennot to co-sign a letter he'd forged in both their names. Viennot wouldn't sign it and the letter went out with one name.

The relationship between what Augustin actually did for people and how those people responded to his death isn't perfect — nothing in this period is — but it's legible. And it's a more honest memorial than most of what was written about him in either direction.

Sources:

Young, Mary. Augustin: The Younger Robespierre. London: Core Publications, 2011. Chapter 19 throughout, with endnote sources:

Ricord's proclamation and letter: Recueil des Actes du Comité de Salut Public (Aulard, ed.), vol. 15, p. 721 and 515.

Boizot and Viennot post-Thermidor: Girardot, Le département de la Haute-Saône pendant la Révolution, vol. III, pp. 153, 157, 160.

Bernard de Saintes post-Thermidor statement and Vesoul's reply: Lods, Un Conventionnel en Mission, pp. 258 and 298. [Read directly.]

La Saudraye's fate: Mathiez, "Robespierre Jeune en Franche-Comté." [Now cited directly in Annales, read directly.]

Sauli's fate: Pellet, "La Révolution de Gênes en 1797," in Napoléon, p. 225. (Via Young, not read directly.)

Buissart's fate: Barbier, p. 18. (Via Young, not read directly.)

Charlotte's post-Thermidor fate: Fleischmann, Robespierre et les femmes, p. 269. (Via Young.)

Napoleon's clearing of his name via Barras: Barras, Mémoires, vol. I, p. 310.

Haller's fate: confirmed in Young chapter 19 narrative; Napoleonic employment from same.

Luzzatto, Sergio. Bonbon Robespierre. Translated by me, 2025. ("Only Bonbon" chapter for the Lebon recall timing and miniature guillotines.)

I recently found this biscuit tin with a printed photo of the British Royal Family on it at an antique store near me. This antique store wasn’t anything special, basically just a bunch of high class, more bougie if you want to call it, items (for example; lots of silverware and paintings and furniture, basically no “knick knacks”). Here are more images:

Here is all of the information that was on the tag shown at the store itself.

“Biscuit Tin circa 1940”

Looking more into the tag on the side of the tin that was probably manufactured with it, I have concluded that this wasn’t a biscuit tin but a Tofee candy tin manufactured by Fillerys Toffee in Birmingham England.

Here is another version of this tin that is of the same candy type verses the one on my tin.

After more research I have found a similar tin of the same type and brand with the same young versions of Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret on Etsy. Here is the link and I will show photos.

Now we should more closely at the photos printed on the tins. Both of these photos are from the same photo session of the Royal Family by Marcus Adams in 1934. Here are actual images of the photos themselves

I can conclude from these findings that both of these tins are from 1934 at the earliest to 1940 at the latest because that is the latest date I have found. What would be reasonable for me to assume why these were made is that they were most likely commemorative objects made for King George VI’s coronation in 1936.

Back then photos of all different dates would be advertised no matter how “outdated” or not new they were so having this photo session wouldn’t be weird. Also the fact that my one’s label is in French makes it more likely to be for a larger event such as a coronation to attract wider sales among more people.

I do feel confident in going against the information that the antique store provided for me because I think that they didn’t pay much attention to the thing they were putting out. What gives me the green light is that they automatically assumed it was a biscuit tin when it literally said toffee on the side. There are also similar candy boxes that I’ve shown here manufactured by a candy company which could have been fixed if people did some research.

I bought this antique for 45 (about $47 post tax) American Dollars which would equate to 33.30 Pounds Sterling in modern UK pricing (bonus: it would also equate to about $781 in 1936 British money but I also got 40 shillings, that doesn’t seem right…guys someone pls fact check me idk 😅)