Bernard Cornwell: archery and Sharpe
I read Bernard Cornwell's Harlequin because of the archery theme, but didn't like it much thanks to all the rape and plunder. The lead character really enjoyed those aspects of his work. I can't help but wonder whether the author and modern male readers secretly think, "That sounds fun! Those were the days!"
Even though I didn't care for the characters, the book did its job as historical fiction in bringing to life a time period - the 1340s - I knew little about, and I found the author's note at the back mind-blowing for this information:
Benjamin Franklin, no fool, reckoned the American rebels would have won their war much more swiftly had they been practised longbowmen and it is quite certain that a battalion of archers could have outshot and beaten, easily, a battalion of Wellington's veterans armed with smoothbore muskets.
I found it hard to wrap my mind around the assertion that bows and arrows could have beaten soldiers with guns more than 400 years later. I guess the pace of technological advance has sped up immeasurably in recent times!
More information from the author's notes:
One or two longbows might do damage, but thousands would destroy an army, and the English, alone in Europe, were capable of assembling those numbers. Why? The technology could not be simpler, yet still other countries did not produce archers. Part of the answer is surely the great difficulty it took to become an expert archer. It needed hours and years of practice, and the habit of such practice took hold in only some English and Welsh regions. ... For some reason or another the Middle Ages saw a popular enthusiasm for the pursuit in parts of England and Wales that led to the rise of the longbow as a mass weapon of war.
Having not enjoyed Harlequin but not wanting to be left with a bad impression of Cornwell, the creator of Sharpe, I've been revisiting Sharpe (and Harper!) in both print and film. Somehow I'd never seen the final film, Sharpe's Peril, released in 2008. I'm sure Cornwell didn't write this part, but I wish they hadn't made Sharpe beat up and very nearly kill Hakeswill's son in a rage, based only upon who his father was. "Bad blood" is a very poor argument, especially coming from someone with Sharpe's background! I'm not going to count that one as "real" Sharpe, since it wasn't directly based on Cornwell's books.
The 15 years from the first film to the last one take quite a toll on a person, even if you're Sean Bean.
Cornwell has given us so many wonderful Sharpe-Harper scenes. Here's one of my favourites, from Sharpe's Siege (book version) when Sharpe tells Killick and Docherty that he'll let them go if they give him their word they won't fight against Britain for the duration of the war.
Docherty stared in puzzlement at Sharpe. "You'll let all of us go? All the crew?"
"I said so."
"And how do we know...?"
Harper spoke in sudden Gaelic. His words were brief, harshly spoken, and a mystery to every man in the room except to himself and Docherty. The American lieutenant listened to the huge Irishman, then looked back to Sharpe with sudden, unnatural humility. "You have my word."
I can't come up with what Harper could have said that would cause Docherty to look at Sharpe not just with respect but with sudden, unnatural humility, but it must have been incredibly complimentary.
Even though I didn't care for the characters, the book did its job as historical fiction in bringing to life a time period - the 1340s - I knew little about, and I found the author's note at the back mind-blowing for this information:
Benjamin Franklin, no fool, reckoned the American rebels would have won their war much more swiftly had they been practised longbowmen and it is quite certain that a battalion of archers could have outshot and beaten, easily, a battalion of Wellington's veterans armed with smoothbore muskets.
I found it hard to wrap my mind around the assertion that bows and arrows could have beaten soldiers with guns more than 400 years later. I guess the pace of technological advance has sped up immeasurably in recent times!
More information from the author's notes:
One or two longbows might do damage, but thousands would destroy an army, and the English, alone in Europe, were capable of assembling those numbers. Why? The technology could not be simpler, yet still other countries did not produce archers. Part of the answer is surely the great difficulty it took to become an expert archer. It needed hours and years of practice, and the habit of such practice took hold in only some English and Welsh regions. ... For some reason or another the Middle Ages saw a popular enthusiasm for the pursuit in parts of England and Wales that led to the rise of the longbow as a mass weapon of war.
Having not enjoyed Harlequin but not wanting to be left with a bad impression of Cornwell, the creator of Sharpe, I've been revisiting Sharpe (and Harper!) in both print and film. Somehow I'd never seen the final film, Sharpe's Peril, released in 2008. I'm sure Cornwell didn't write this part, but I wish they hadn't made Sharpe beat up and very nearly kill Hakeswill's son in a rage, based only upon who his father was. "Bad blood" is a very poor argument, especially coming from someone with Sharpe's background! I'm not going to count that one as "real" Sharpe, since it wasn't directly based on Cornwell's books.
The 15 years from the first film to the last one take quite a toll on a person, even if you're Sean Bean.
Cornwell has given us so many wonderful Sharpe-Harper scenes. Here's one of my favourites, from Sharpe's Siege (book version) when Sharpe tells Killick and Docherty that he'll let them go if they give him their word they won't fight against Britain for the duration of the war.
Docherty stared in puzzlement at Sharpe. "You'll let all of us go? All the crew?"
"I said so."
"And how do we know...?"
Harper spoke in sudden Gaelic. His words were brief, harshly spoken, and a mystery to every man in the room except to himself and Docherty. The American lieutenant listened to the huge Irishman, then looked back to Sharpe with sudden, unnatural humility. "You have my word."
I can't come up with what Harper could have said that would cause Docherty to look at Sharpe not just with respect but with sudden, unnatural humility, but it must have been incredibly complimentary.