“The Four Musketeers: The True Story of D'Artagnan, Porthos, Aramis & Athos”, by Kari Maund and Phil Nanson

223 pages, Tempus Publishing, ISBN-13: 978-0752435039

The Four Musketeers: The True Story of D'Artagnan, Porthos, Aramis & Athos is just that, tracing as it does the life of D'Artagnan and the Three Musketeers. The first chapter relates the true story of Charles de Batz-Castelmore, sieur d'Artagnan, who served as a musketeer from the 1630s until his death in June 1673. It talks about where he was raised in Gascony and how so many members of the king's musketeers came from Gascony because the leader of the musketeers was, in fact, M. de Treville, or more accurately Troisvilles, a Gascon himself, just like in the novel. Charles serves as a loyal supporter of the crown, supporting Troisvilles until he was able to transfer his loyalty to Cardinal Mazarin in the 1640s. From Mazarin, Charles learns to support the king, Louis XIV. He serves the Sun King by arresting the finance minister Nicolas Foucquet and guarding him during his two-and-a-half year trial before transporting to his imprisonment in Pignerol. Charles serves the king as a soldier, chief lieutenant of his musketeers until his death during the siege of Maastricht in 1673. The whole story is here in English rather than French as most of his biographies have been.

The next chapter relays what we know from historical evidence about Athos, Porthos, and Aramis. It turns out we know very little about Armand de Sillegue d'Athos d'Autevielle who died mysteriously in 1642 at the age of 20 or so. The authors speculate that he may have died in a duel or from a criminal assault in a highly dangerous Paris. Isaac de Porthau came from a wealthy family and returned to his family's home. Henri d'Aramitz came from a family that could trace its nobility back several centuries. He too served and returned to his family's estates.

The next chapter discusses the history of the musketeers as a military organization from its inception until its dissolution, while another chapter relates the life of Gatien Courtilz de Sandras, the writer who wrote the so-called memoirs of D'Artagnan 27 years after the latter's death. He included the names Athos, Porthos, and Aramis as well as a mention of an Englishwoman he called Miledi in these phony memoirs. Perhaps Sandras picked up these names from his conversations with two former companions of D'Artagnan's, Besmaux and Saint-Mars. The latter two were governors of the Bastille where Sandras was imprisoned during 1693-99.

Alexandre Dumas’ life is also related in a subsequent chapter along with a discussion of how he used researchers and collaborators to help draw up his story. Dumas used the memoirs of D'Artagnan among other documents and memoirs to put together the tales in the novel. It turns out most of the story is true in the sense that the events happened to someone, just not D'Artagnan or his friends.

The book closes with a survey of sequels by other authors as well as plays and movies that continue the legend of the musketeers. The book also has black-and-white and color photos of places, paintings, engravings, and items relevant to the text. It is highly readable but the authors could have taken some care proofreading the text, particularly dates in the life of D'Artagnan, i.e., 1566 instead of 1656, ninety years makes a difference.

“A Fine Brush on Ivory: An Appreciation of Jane Austen”, by Richard Jenkyns

230 pages, Oxford University Press, ISBN-13: 978-0199276615

Richard Jenkyns’ A Fine Brush on Ivory: An Appreciation of Jane Austen from 2004 is the very best kind of literary criticism; an elegant and fascinating exploration of the art and artistry of romance novelist Jane Austen. Austen's fans know that her novels are entertaining through repeated readings; Jenkyns explores the why of that happy fact.

Although Jenkyns does not quite come out and say so, Jane Austen was something of a perfectionist in her writing technique. Her stories are authentic, closely crafted, and subtle comedies of manners. She wrote for her own times, and Jenkyns helps us appreciate what might not be visible to the modern reader by peeling back the stories to examine the fine details of character and plot underneath. Jenkyns surveys the published novels and some of the juvenilia, but, inevitably, Pride and Prejudice gets a great deal of attention as her most successful work. Jenkyns explores the advantages of seeing the story through Elizabeth's eyes, including the result that Darcy remains something of a fascinating mystery to the end of the story. Supporting characters suggest surprising depth even with very brief appearances in the novel. Austen's characters successfully advance the storyline while behaving “in character” without the need for exotic events or circumstances.

Austen was not afraid to experiment within the narrow range of her experience and her improving technique. Jenkyns carefully disassembles Mansfield Park to reveal the complexities of its difficult plot. The conundrums inherent in the potential pairings of Mary and Henry Crawford with, respectively, Edmund Bertram and Fanny Price reveal the subtle workings of Austen’s writing technique. The outcome suggests that Austen deliberately set out to build a story around an atypical heroine and succeeded. Emma, perhaps the most straight forward of Austen's romantic comedies, turns out to have unexpected heroes and villains. Jenkyns notes that Persuasion was very possibly wrapped up in some haste as Austen began to succumb to the disease that would kill her, but still manages to combine the essential elements of her style in a successful if shortened novel.

A Fine Brush On Ivory is very highly recommended to fans of Jane Austen as a delightful and detailed exploration of her art. Readers need not agree with every item to appreciate Jenkyns' enthusiasm for the topic. Students with less familiarity with Austen will also find this book to be a fascinating and accessible introduction to her style.

“Caligula: The Corruption of Power”, by Anthony A. Barrett

334 pages, Yale University Press, ISBN-13: 978-0300046533

In his book Caligula: The Corruption of Power, Anthony A. Barrett provides an excellent, balanced view of Caligula in his work. Much like the title of the book implies, he attributes the emperor’s downfall to his own corruption and flaws, not insanity. Barrett uses the ancient sources well by analyzing the style of the historian and dismissing the details that are too extreme and those that do not make sense. The book flows from chapter to chapter quite well, never being dull or boring and is written in such a way that it falls between being for a general audience and those with prior knowledge, but leans more toward the academic side (not that this is necessarily a bad thing).

Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus – Caligula, or “Little Boots” as the Roman Legions in Germany dubbed him when presented to them in complete, miniature legionnaire gear as a child – was something of an enigma, not helped by the fact that his brief Imperium presumably was recorded by Tacitus in what is now a lost volume of the Annals. As Barrett notes, only too much of what written accounts remain were written by people who intensely disliked him. What Barrett does is discard the opinion and stick to the known facts. Once he does this, there is insufficient remaining, so he has to interpret what he knows and make reasonable guesses. On the whole, I think Barrett does an excellent job; the account is plausible, and in the end the reader has a fair account of what happened. The problem with Gaius is that there are so many contradictions; nevertheless Barrett's account is at least in account with the writings of Josephus and Suetonius, which is more than can be said for a number of other accounts. I have carried out a certain amount of independent research on Gaius, and while there are inevitable parts of his life that really cannot be properly accounted for and validated, I believe this book is about as good as anyone is going to get on this topic.

With the amount we really do not know about all of these classical figures, it's a wonder we can come to any conclusions at all. And yet, Mr. Barrett tries to read between the lines, reconcile conflicting accounts, and distill a reasoned, if speculative, look at one of Rome's most infamous emperors. What I really like about this book is the author's admission, in several places, that his opinion was just that, his opinion. Well thought out and supported though it was, he freely admits that reliable historical facts are hard to come by based on the accounts that have survived. Still, if nothing else, the author is able to show us two things: the inner workings of the empire in the power struggle between the Senate and the Royal House of Augustus, and how classical history should be researched, reasoned and viewed.