Next time: the backup singers and background dancers of history
I think its safe to say that I'm not a fan of using the sagas as historical documents meant to accurately portray the lives, beliefs, and actions of the figures, mythological or otherwise, that they depict.
But even I have a heart underneath all these layers of cynicism. The saga detailing the life of Harald Sigurdsson (Hardrade) has got some really great stuff in it. This isn't necessarily a false mustache and thick rimmed glasses kind of disguise, but I think it qualifies.
During his campaigns in Sicily in the service of the Varangian guard, Harald is tasked with taking a string of fortresses, each is naturally more impressive than the last. The fourth such castle is impenetrable to any sort of attack. His previous methods of attack, attaching burning straws to birds to burn the grain stores, and tunneling under the walls, are useless. Worst of all, Harald falls deathly ill. He set his tent a little farther away, and his underlings had to come farther to receive orders. The fortress sent out spies to discover what the matter was. They discovered that Harald had fallen deathly ill and was on death's door. He wished to be buried in the castle's church, and the garrison agreed to this request, knowing that it would bring rich gifts in the future to have such a great man buried there.
His men prepared a great coffin and gave it over to the castle's priests, once inside the gates, his men barred the gate open and drew their weapons and held the gates open, the rest of the Varangians then poured into the city and did what vikings did best.
This was even the basis for the finale to one of the season finales on History Channel's Vikings https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2fm7Unf9r8
Written in 1841, just about anything from Milligan's "History of Dueling" should be taken with a grain of salt - certainly he never met an anecdote he didn't like - but he does have one little story of a duelist in disguise that would fit here, and given that it was, by his claim, related in a newspaper less than 10 years earlier, perhaps it is less suspect than some of his other tales anyways, at least in the broad strokes.
A young Polish widow, the Countess 'Lodoiska R.' was being successfully courted by the German Baron Trautmansdorf. Another suitor, Baron de Ropp was none too pleased by the attentions enjoyed his rival, and circulated an offensive poem about Trautmansdorf, who sent de Ropp a challenge when word reached him of this. The two met for a duel, but, for reasons Milligan doesn't deign to explain, de Ropp didn't fight, and instead had a champion take his place, who made short work of Trautmansdorf. His second, so offended by de Ropp's behavior, immediately called him out as a coward, and insisted on their own duel, which de Ropp now took upon himself, with equal success. Only, after striking the mortal blow, he realized his opponent had been the Countess, disguised as a man so as to accompany her lover to the field of combat. Supposedly, now overcome with what he had wrought, de Ropp joined the fallen pair by falling upon his own sword.
A little less melodramatic, but much better attested, would be the life of James Miranda Stuart Barry, a British Army surgeon, who was better known in her youth as Margaret Ann Bulkley. Margaret took on the persona of James in her youth, and lived her entire public life as a man, the secret only being revealed with death. As Barry, Margaret was forced into a challenge of Captain Josias Cloete after an argument while stationed in the Cape Colony in 1819. In their meeting, Cloete was struck with a glancing shot to his temple, which did little actual damage being deflected by the stiff brim of his shako. 'Barry' was also struck, in the upper thigh, and was forced to decline treatment on the field and instead do so herself in private, as it was close enough to perhaps betray her true identity.
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A lot of pirates used deception to lure their victims. Most notably this was done by falsely flying the colors of friendly nations to get ships to approach before raising a black flag or “Jolly Roger” at close range to signal that they were pirates and intimidate the ships into surrendering.
One pirate who used some more elaborate and personal deceptions was Howell Davis. Trickery and deception was a recurring theme throughout his brief pirate career. He seems to have been quite clever and charming, and he was able to successfully convince several colonial governors that he was not a pirate by impersonating lawful merchants and privateers. By doing this he was even able to capture the governor of an English fort after being invited to dinner and force him to give him lots of money. However, eventually one of Davis’ impersonations was discovered and he met a violent death.
After spending three months in jail in Barbados for conspiring to steal the cargo of a merchant ship he had been captain of, in about October 1718 Davis fled to Nassau in the Bahamas where he wouldn’t be recognized and quickly joined another trading voyage as a common seaman. Since until earlier that year before the British government retook control, Nassau had been an infamous pirate haven, most of the rest of the crew on this voyage were former pirates who had accepted a royal pardon and Davis quickly conspired with them to mutiny and seize the ship. After doing this, Davis was elected captain and they resolved to go pirating.
After capturing a few ships at sea, Davis came to the island of St. Nicholas in the Cape Verde Islands off the west coast of Africa. The Portuguese governor took him for a lawful English privateer allied with Portugal and Davis and his crew stayed on the island for about five weeks where they were apparently treated lavishly. From A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates published in 1724:
…the Portuguese inhabiting there, took him for an English Privateer, and Davis going ashore, they both treated him very civilly, and also traded with him. Here he remained five Weeks, in which Time, he and half his Crew, for their Pleasure, took a Journey to the chief Town of the Island, which was 19 Miles up the Country: Davis making a good Appearance, was caressed by the Governor and the Inhabitants, and no Diversion was wanting which the Portuguese could shew, or Money could purchase; after about a Week’s Stay, he came back to the Ship, and the rest of the Crew went to take their Pleasure up the Town, in their Turn.
So friendly was their reception here that five of the pirates even chose to stay behind with local women. After this, they set sail again and plundered more ships around the Cape Verde Islands, but eventually had to stop to replenish their supplies of water. The island they chose was St. Jago, but the Portuguese governor of this island was more skeptical and distrusting of Davis and openly said that he suspected him to be a pirate.
Taken aback by this quite different reception than he had previously received, “Davis seemed mightily affronted, standing much upon his Honour, replying to the Governor, he scorn’d his Words; however, as soon as [the governor’s] Back was turned, for fear of Accidents, [Davis] got on board again as fast as he could.” Back on the ship, Davis proposed to his crew that they surprise the Portuguese fort that night and capture it. They accomplished this with the loss of three men, but many of the soldiers from the fort barricaded themselves in the governor’s house and held the pirates off until morning despite grenades being thrown in. When more soldiers came, the pirates retreated back to their ships after sabotaging the fort’s guns. The author of A General History wrote that “by this Enterprise they did a great Deal of Mischief to the Portuguese, and but very little Good to themselves.”
Despite this lack of real success, Davis next proposed an even more ambitious scheme to his crew. He proposed that they sail to the English fort of Gambia on the west coast of Africa where he knew a large amount of money was kept. Although the fort was much too well defended for one ship to take by outright force, Davis devised an elaborate scheme.
As they approached the fort, Davis ordered most of his crew to hide themselves below decks so that they appeared to be a regular trading vessel (which usually didn’t have as many crew). He then sailed under the fort this way without suspicion before going ashore with nine men dressed as sailors and merchants:
…having ordered out the Boat, he commanded six Men in her, in old ordinary Jackets, while he himself, with the Master and Doctor, dressed themselves like Gentlemen; his Design being, that the Men should look like common Sailors, and they like Merchants. In rowing ashore he gave his men instructions what to say, in Case any Questions should be asked them. (A General History)
At the landing place, they were “received by a File of Musqueteers, and conducted into the Fort, where the Governor accosting them civilly, ask’d them who they were, and whence they came?” They replied that they were English merchants come to trade for gum and elephant teeth on the coast, but that had been chased by two French men-of-war and therefore had to take refuge here. The governor was happy to give them refuge and trade with them, and apparently impressed by Davis’ manners he invited him and his officers to dine with him that evening. Two of Davis’ men then stayed with the governor while Davis then excused himself to check on his ship. However, like an expert criminal, Davis had been taking meticulous note of his surroundings:
While he was in the Fort, his Eyes were very busy in observing how Things lay; he took Notice there was a Sentry at the Entrance, and a Guard-House just by it, where the Soldiers upon Duty commonly waited, their Arms standing in a Corner, in a Heap; he saw also a great many small Arms in the Governor’s Hall…
When he returned to his ship, he told the men that when they saw the flag of the fort lowered, that was the signal that the fort was secured and for 20 of them to come ashore armed. He then brought two men with concealed pistols back in the boat with him to distract the guards and secure the guardhouse when he gave a signal. While preparing a bowl of punch before dinner, Davis and his officers suddenly drew their pistols:
Davis on a sudden drew out a Pistol, clapt it to the Governor’s Breast, telling him, he must surrender the Fort and all the Riches in it, or he was a dead Man. The Governor being no Ways prepared for such an Attack, promised to be very passive, and do all they desired, therefore they shut the Door, took down all the Arms that hung in the Hall, and loaded them.
Next Davis fired his pistol through the window which was the agreed signal for the pirates in the guardhouse, and they took the surprised soldiers prisoner with cocked pistols and locked them in the guardhouse after taking out all the arms. At the same time, Davis lowered the flag over the fort and 20 armed pirates rowed ashore and took control of the fort with virtually no resistance and without anyone killed on either side. With the entire fort and garrison under their control, the pirates celebrated and began looting and even convinced some of the captured soldiers to join them. They didn’t find nearly as much as they expected since a lot of money had recently been sent away, but they still got 2,000 pounds in gold which would be equivalent to something like $400,000 today.
In the pulps, the most common disguise was a pseudonym, so that H. P. Lovecraft might appear as Lewis Theobold, Jr., or Robert E. Howard as Patrick Ervin - and beyond that, male writers might appear as female, or vice versa. My favorite story from my field of interest, however, involves no great disguise, but one which served its purpose to great effect:
I’ve been going through Fredericksburg, off and on, for many years, and I don’t think it’s changed a bit. My friend, Tyson, and I found just about all the different kinds of liquor a man could think about, and I’ll admit my mouth watered and I cursed the poverty which kept me from indulging my epicurean tendencies. It looked like almost every other joint was a beer bar or a package house. As usual, we aroused no enthusiasm in the citizens; even when they took our money they did it with a suspicious, almost sullen air — most of them, that is; some were cordial enough — with which they favor most outlanders. I can understand their viewpoint, in way, for of all the white races represented in Texas, the Anglo-Americans of old pioneer stock are by far the most turbulent and belligerent. Not that we gave a damn; we started sampling the terrific beer they sell there, with our steak dinner, and what with that and some remarkably good whiskey, by the time we were ready to start north again, some hours later, we were totally indifferent to racial differences and prejudices. In fact, I seem to remember, when we stopped at a beer joint a few miles out for another drink, of using my scanty knowledge of German to convince the barman that I was a Prussian, and I must have succeeded, somehow, for he immediately thawed out and deluged me with a flood of conversation, directed mainly at the Mexican brewers who bring down the price of beer, and the three of us had an enjoyable time guzzling Texas Pride and cussing the corporations. I don’t know when I ever had a more hilarious souse.
Late medieval literature is rife with disguises, but less generally appreciated (and perhaps of more interest from a historical perspective) is the fact that some scribes and book owners had cause to disguise the manuscripts themselves.
George Bannatyne (1545-1608) was an Edinburgh merchant who left us the so called “Bannatyne Manuscript” (NLS, Adv. MS 1.1.6), a trove of Older Scots literature (some of it uniquely attested) including works by Robert Henryson, William Dunbar, Gavin Douglas, Richard Holland and Alexander Scott. Unlike the majority of surviving verse compilations of the era, Bannatyne inserts quite a good deal of his own material into the manuscript and gives a compelling story of the circumstances of his compilation. Edinburgh was hit by plague in 1568 and Bannatyne decamped to the countryside, like Boccaccio’s group of tale-tellers, in order to escape the worst of it. While there, to wile away the months, he collected his material and copied the manuscript as it survives.
Except that he didn’t. The manuscript is divided into five parts, and the content of each is introduced by Bannatyne’s own (truly abysmal) poetry. The poems that introduce parts four and five bear the dates 1568 – but the 8 has been written over 5 and 6 respectively. Bannatyne doesn’t do a bad job of it, and given that modern study of the manuscript really began with Walter Scott in the early nineteenth century, his little deception has only fairly recently been discovered – I believe it was first noticed by Alasdair MacDonald in 1986. It’s possible that parts one through three really were copied in 1568, but that need not be true. The book as a whole is clearly the endeavour of several years.
So why disguise it? We don’t know for sure of course, but some scholars have speculated that the book was being prepared as a draft copy for print publication. Bannatyne certainly lavishes far more attention on the explanation of the manuscript’s organisation than he would have needed to if it was for private use, and printing had really taken off in Scotland after a late start. The narrative neatness of the plague story is compelling and it already had literary cachet. If it was intended for print, however, it probably never made it – no copies survive.
While I’m on disguised dates in books, one more springs to mind. Oxford, BodL MS Fairfax 2 is an immense copy of the late version of Wycliffite Bible. The versions of the Wycliffite Bible were translated in the late fourteenth century, and the hand of the manuscript is unmistakably from the early fifteenth, and yet a date in the scribal hand (f. 385r) reads “m.ccc & iiij’ (1308). The prosaic suggestion of A. G. Watson (Catalogue of Dated and Dateable Manuscripts c.435–1600 in Oxford Libraries (1984), vol. I, no. 485), who consulted the manuscript under ultraviolet light, is that the scribe meant to write 1408 but was one “c” short, so erased and moved the “&” but then forgot to add a fourth “c”.
This seems a little contrived to me, however, and I favour the alternative suggestion of Mary Dove (The First English Bible (2007), p39, also considered by Elizabeth Solopova, Manuscripts of the Wycliffite Bible in the Bodleian and Oxford College Libraries (2017), p146). Dove suggests that in the wake of Archbishop Arundel’s Constitutions of 1407–9, which made ownership of an English Bible from after the time of Wyclif punishable with death by burning (although the Church does not seem to have exercised this right), a later book owner or reader carefully erased the scribe’s fourth “c” to disguise it as a perfectly legal book supposedly – impossibly! – copied in 1308. There certainly is an erasure in the manuscript which might account for both Watson’s and Dove’s explanations, but I find Dove’s to be both more straightforward and (although this has no bearing on historical fact) more narratively compelling.
Bonus round (I’m on a roll): The Auchinleck Manuscript (NLS, Adv. MS 19.2.1) is a collection of English verse produced in London in the 1330s. It was once quite heavily illuminated but – as is tradition – some scrapbooking antiquary, enterprising merchant or unpardonable vandal has snipped the pictures out. Of those that remain, one image has at some point been quite differently destroyed... for the purpose of disguise? A column of the text of Þe Wenche þat Loved þe King has been scraped and smudged out and the remainder on the next leaf has been cut out entirely. The header image survives but has been partially and ineptly scraped off. In spite of the efforts of our censor, the content of the image remains amusingly clear: we are left with the ghostly silhouette of two figures on a bed.
Generally, pop musicians often have to carefully balance the impulse to simply play music with their friends because it’s fun and maybe they can make money with a few different competing motivations: most notably, people under contract to a record company usually find that the record company may not look happily upon them using their skills to enrich other record companies.
As a result, The Beatles - on EMI/Parlophone - simply didn’t give Eric Clapton any credit for his guitar solo on ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps’. However, when George Harrison returned the favour by playing on Cream’s 1969 track ‘Badge’ - released on Polydor - he was credited as 'L’Angelo Misterioso'. Similarly, when Paul McCartney produced a 1968 track for the Bonzo Dog Band, ‘I’m The Urban Spaceman’, he did it under the name Apollo C. Vermouth (perhaps appropriately, Neil Innes of the Bonzo Dog Band would later write the music for the Beatles parody mockumentary film The Rutles, in which his songs - like the incredibly accurate 'Hold My Hand' - were instead claimed to be written by Stig Nasty and Dirk McQuigley). Speaking of which, Elton John’s 1974 cover of The Beatles’ ‘Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds’ apparently features one ‘Dr. Winston O’Boogie’ on 'reggae guitars' - this was of course a pseudonym for John Winston Lennon. And Nilsson’s 1972 album Son Of Schmilsson features one Richie Snare - i.e., Richard Starkey, better known as Ringo Starr - on several tracks on drums including 'Spaceman' (along with slide guitar on another track by one George Harrysong).
Elsewhere, the house backing band for Motown Records - dubbed The Funk Brothers, and prominently featured in the 2002 documentary *Standing In The Shadows Of Motown* - weren’t credited on Motown releases at all, and the likes of Paul McCartney wondered who exactly was playing those amazing bass lines he was trying to imitate. Given the enormous success of Motown in the 1960s, and their regular use of the same backing band, it's likely that the Funk Brothers played on more hits in the 20th century than anybody else in the business apart from perhaps the L.A.-based group now called The Wrecking Crew. And nobody knew their names until 1970.
It was 1970 when Marvin Gaye insisted on crediting his backing musicians on his epochal 1970 album What’s Going On, perhaps the first Motown Concept Album, that the general public could put a name to the bass lines (James Jamerson). Anyway, the Funk Brothers were on a salary and were breaching their employment contract by playing on music by other record companies. Nonetheless that band’s peerless ability to create danceable pop music backing tracks that just popped out of the speakers made them hot property amongst record producers in the know who desperately wanted hits, and Motown owner Berry Gordy would have been dumb to sack his golden geese, so perhaps he turned a blind eye as long as it wasn't too egregrious a breach of contract.
As a result, there are several examples of the nucleus of the Funk Brothers playing on records that were not released on Motown. Famously, the record producer at the Chicago-based Brunswick Records would bus in the Funk Brothers on weekends to do some recording at double their usual rate. This means that Jackie Wilson’s Brunswick Records hit 'Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher’ not only sounds like it has Funk Brothers on it - it does. Other examples of the Funk Brothers lending a hand to outside record labels away from Berry Gordy’s prying eyes include hits like Fontella Bass’s ‘Rescue Me’ (on Chess Records’ pop label Checker) and John Lee Hooker’s ‘Boom Boom’ (on Vee Jay). Perhaps the most egregious example of Motown people in disguise escaping from Gordy’s clutches is Freda Payne’s ‘Band Of Gold’, on Invictus Records. The song was written by R. Dunbar & E. Wayne, according to the label; however in reality the song was written by the former (enormously successful) Motown songwriting team Holland/Dozier/Holland, who’d quit Motown a couple of years previously to start their own record label but who were still legally under contract. And who obviously knew the Funk Brothers well enough to sneak them into a session away from Berry Gordy’s prying eyes.
Speaking of John Lee Hooker, after the initial success of his ‘Boogie Chillen’ on Modern Records in 1948, Hooker circa 1951-1953 began rob record for several different record labels under pseudonyms, unconcerned with copyright or contracts and happy to receive money from different record labels. ‘Minor’ record labels like Modern typically, at this point, made a lump sum payment to the likes of bluesmen and then kept any profit. This didn’t really encourage loyalty, and when Hooker discovered that other record labels were happy to record him, he would make up some variant on his usual blues form and record it under a different name; in the early 1950s, Hooker recorded songs like ‘Gotta Boogie’, ‘Love To Boogie’ and ‘New Boogie Chillen’ that were all basically ‘Boogie Chillen’ reprises. This made it look to some observers that John Lee Hooker-style blues were a big trend; however, the trend was basically just Hooker recording under pseudonyms like John Lee Cooker, Delta Slim, and Birmingham Sam And His Magic Guitar.
In the late 1980s, the Traveling Wilburys - a band with some sense of history and a bunch of famous people on different record labels - premised the band on the idea that they’d be playing in disguise, under pseudonyms; certainly each of the band members were on different record labels (in the late 1980s, Orbison being on Virgin, Dylan being on Columbia, Petty being on MCA, Jeff Lynne being on Epic, and George Harrison's self-owned record label being distributed by Warner). So, for example, George Harrison - the former L’Angelo Misterioso - became Nelson Wilbury in the Traveling Wilburys, while Bob Dylan (who’d recorded under the name Blind Boy Grunt in the early 1960s to evade record company scrutiny) became Lucky Wilbury. Mind you, all of the Wilburys on 'Handle With Care' had record company approval to appear in the band, because it was a golden promotional opportunity, and because it only takes one look at the music video for even half-hearted music fans to go "holy shit, that's George Harrison, and that's Roy Orbison!"; the Wilbury aliases were more of a fond remembrance of the old days than a contractual demand.
Definitely the most famous pirate to use impersonation and disguise was Mary Read who dressed as a man throughout her life.
According to A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates published in 1724, Mary Read was born out of wedlock in England to a woman whose husband had gone missing at sea. This woman already had a son by her husband, but he died at a year old which was when Mary Read was born. Read's mother hid this from her husband's family and began dressing Mary Read up as a boy in place of her dead son in order to get money from her husband's mother.
Eventually the grandmother died and they stopped getting money, and by the time Read was thirteen she was apprenticed as a maid, but "Here she did not last long, for growing bold and strong, and having also a roving Mind, she enter'd herself onboard a Man of War." This must have been during the Spanish War of Succession (1702-1714), and she apparently then served as a foot soldier in Flanders and then in a regiment of horse and "behaved herself so well in several Engagements, that she got the Esteem of all her Officers." The only source that I know of for this part of her life is the aforementioned book whose reliability is sometimes questionable, but I know some women have served in other wars dressed as men and Mary Read seems to have convincingly passed herself off as a man with and fought daringly later, so I don't think it's unreasonable that this happened.
Eventually she was discovered and married one of the soldiers from her company, and they opened up an inn in Flanders. However, soon her husband died and the war ended which brought the soldiers back home and caused her business to fail. Then she joined the army again, but soon decided to sail on a Dutch ship for the West Indies. During the voyage the ship was taken by pirates who apparently made her join their crew since she was the only English"man" aboard--still without discovering her sex. Soon after, in about 1718, these same pirates all accepted a royal pardon for piracy that was being offered at the time and settled down. Mary Read wasn't able to find another way of making a living, so she soon went to Nassau in the Bahamas and joined as a privateer against the Spanish.
However, most of the privateer crew were former pirates and they soon mutinied to become outright pirates again. Read joined them and the author of A General History writes:
It is true, she often declared, that the Life of a Pyrate was what she always abhor'd, and went into it only upon Compulsion, both this Time, and before, intending to quit it, whenever a fair Opportunity should offer it self; yet forced Men, and had sail'd with her, deposed upon Oath, that in Times of Action, no Person amongst them was more resolute, than she and Anne Bonny; and particularly at the time they were attack'd and taken, when they came to close Quarters, none kept the Deck except Mary Read and Anne Bonny, and one more upon which, she, Mary Read and Anne Bonny, and one more; come up and fight like Men, and finding they did not stir, fired her Arms down the Hold amongst them, killing one, and wounding others.
She soon fell in with the pirate John "Calico Jack" Rackham and his mistress Anne Bonny (who never disguised herself as a man but did apparently fight) and there is a convoluted story about how she befriended another man on the ship who had been forced to join the pirates and then defended him in a duel by killing his opponent after secretly revealing she was a woman, which may or may not be true. At any rate, she did apparently have a lover on the ship and everyone onboard must have known she was a woman by that point. When the pirates were eventually captured in October 1720 off the coast of Jamaica, it was only her, Anne Bonny and one man (perhaps Mary Read's lover) who defended it while the rest of the pirates were too drunk below decks to even put up a fight.
At the trial, all of the pirates were hung in November 1720 except for Mary Read and Anne Bonny who mysteriously both fell pregnant and "pleaded their bellies." Mary Read soon died of fever in prison while Anne Bonny disappeared.
Sources:
A General History of the Robberies and Murders of the Most Notorious Pyrates published in 1724/26 by Charles Johnson/Daniel Defoe/Nathaniel Mist (Charles Johnson is a pseudonym long thought to have been Defore, but Mist is the most likely author)
Pirates: Terror on the high seas from the Caribbean to the South China seas edited by David Cordingly
Among the most distinguishing features of the Taiping rebels was their long hair, a rejection of the shaved forehead that symbolised obedience to the Manchus. This led to immense problems when trying to identify people who had clearly recently changed hairstyles (a suspiciously pale forehead could tell as much as unusually short forehead hair), and stories abound of merchants growing their hair out to trade with the Taiping and then tanning their newly-shaven scalps to trade with the Imperials. Apparently, it became common practice for civilian men in the warzones to have a proper queue ready hidden in their hats so that the rest could be shaved off quickly in the event of Imperial recapture.