The death of a revolutionary. The People's Champion murdered.
When great figures are murdered the truth is frequently covered up. This article is an attempt to bring into the public domain the true story of what happened when of the most promising and charismatic young politicians of the eighteenth century was done to death; and to expose the coverup that has been happening since.
The sad story of a great life cut short.
This article is been written in order to celebrate the life, and protest the death, of a revolutionary hero. In the normal course of events we all must come to the grave, but when a person, who was rightly called The Peoples Champion, meets with the premature, and rather messy death, that was visited on the hero of this story, all right thinking people should take to the streets to demand an end to the coverup that has continued for more than two centuries now.
Much ink has been spilled in discussing the circumstances surrounding the deaths of great people, especially if they met with violent deaths, or there was something of the mysterious in the way that they met their maker.
How many have speculated over the death of Julius Caesar. Did he know he was going to be killed that morning? Was Brutus his son? There have been speculations over the death of Napoleon Bonaparte. Was he poisoned by his doctor? Did arsenic in the wallpaper slowly kill him? More recently much has been written about the death of the late US President John Kennedy. How many bullets were used? Was there more than one killer? Did the "Officially named" assassin have anything to do with it at all?
I could go on for ever. The variety of theories are so many, in all these cases, as well as in many others that it could keep conspiracy theorists speculating until the final dissolution of the universe, and then some.
However, it is not with the intention of raking over any of these already over raked paths that I am writing today.
I do want to discuss a death, and the central character in my tragic tale is a very famous, indeed revolutionary, personage from history. He did meet with a rather sudden, and dare I say it messy end. and the circumstances that surrounded his cutting off in the early part of a very promising political career have never been properly investigated, or, should I say more correctly, the results of what inquiries were made at the time have been deliberately suppressed, and kept from the eyes of posterity, lest revulsion at the deception that has been practiced by successive governments of all hues might spark a bloody revolution.
I speak,of course, of the murder of Mr Humpty Dumpty, and I want to straightaway say that the character assassination that has been given to his memory since his death is just as nefarious as the fact of his murder in the first place.
The only version of what happened to this great revolutionary patriot and campaigner for the rights of domestic animals, to be allowed in the public domain is the nursery rhyme.
Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall.
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses
and all the King's men
couldnt put Humpty Dumpty together again.
I have to tell you now that this is far from the complete story, but before pointing out the inaccuracies in the above doggerel it is first neccessary for me to outline the history of Humpty Dumpty, and the reasons why he was sitting on that wall in the first place.
The account I am about to give you comes from the secret archives of The Ancient Society of Secret Historians, of which I am the current president. The story is being put into the public domain today for the first time. A copy of all relevant documentation is being deposited with The British Library. The originals are being sent to the US Library of Congress. No doubt there will be a rush of scholars to peruse them after this story is told.
But to get back to the story. Humpty Dumpty was indeed an egg. He was born to a goose who lived in the parish of St Pancras just outside the city of London in the year 1752. The odd thing about him, and the one thing that distinguished him from all his brother and sister eggs is that he had arms and legs. He also had a mouth and rudimentary nostrils, and there were signs of little ears growing on the side of his shell. Possibly because of his peculiar appearence his mother deserted him, and he was found the following morning by the farmers wife when she was collecting the eggs. Being a kind woman she took the unusual egg/baby into her house, and as time passed and Humpty grew up, into her heart.
Our story now fast forwards to the year 1773, and the circumstances that lead him to become a great revolutionary. Humpty Dumpty was twenty one. He had been educated privately by the famous Doctor Samuel Johnson who had heard about the unusual circumstances of his birth, and thus decided to take a hand in the progressing of his life. It had been decided not to send him to school. They believed that the boisterousness of the local schoolboys might be too much for his delicate carapace. Anyway in this year he got invited to dine with the Lord Mayor of London, a singular priviledge for one from such humble origins as he was. He was collected from the farmhouse in the Lord Mayor's own coach and he was conveyed with much honour to the Mansion House. A great evening was had by all, but it was on his way back home that our hero had his "Road to Damascus" moment. The coach passed through a market that was being set up for the next morning's trade. There were farmers, and farmer's wives shouting and jostling as they set up their stalls, and amidst all the noise and confusion were some sights that sent a sword of horror into the heart of Humpty Dumpty. There were geese in cages, and some that were hanging up without their heads; and in boxes being stacked up were hundreds of eggs. The realisation that such a hideous death would be the eventual fate of all these that he considered his blood relatives just hit him like a blow to the head, and he was conveyed in a faint back to St Pancras.
From that day on his life took a radically different course. He was no longer content to be just another minor celebrity, feted by the "Great and Good" when it suited their interests. He decided to enter politics, and on a very revolutionary ticket too. His peculiar DNA had given him the ability to talk to farmyard fowls and he set about agitating among them in order to make them aware of their oppressed condition. The movement grew and spread like wildfire among all the fowl in the kingdom. Chickens started erecting barricades in henhouses,eggs were been hidden. Geese and ducks were attacking farmers and market traders. Even King George III was assaulted at an agricultural show by two militant Rhode Island Reds. Within six months the entire agricultural sector was in chaos. There was even talk of revolution among the poorer sections of the human population, because they depended for their nourishment on a ready supply of cheap eggs, and these were now being witheld by the feathered revolutionaries.
Things had reached fever pitch. The whole country was on the edge of a cliff. Word of the revolt was reaching the continent of Europe. There were isolated incidents in France. There was a danger of a general conflagration.
Everybody was talking about Humpty Dumpty and the revolution that seemed to be about to change the world forever.
He didnt fall off. He was blown off.
A monster meeting was arranged for 2nd November 1773. It was to be addressed by Humpty Dumpty, and was to be held in Hyde Park. Millions of Fowls were expected to attend, as well as a large contingent of human supporters from the lower classes of society. Afterwards it was rumoured that there would be a march on Parliament to overthrow the government. There was a carnival atmosphere in the park Goslings and ducklings turned up with their parents. Some chickens even gave birth to eggs, so relaxed and confident were they all.
At half past three Humpty Dumpty climbed up onto the wall to address the vast crowd. Exactly what happened next I am not absolutely sure. At least four shots rang out. The body/head of revolutionary leader exploded in a mess of albumen and yolk, and at least one of the people nearest to him was injured by some shell fragments.
Some say that there was only one shooter, with three guns; but one eyewitness has made a deposition that he heard a bang coming from a grassy knoll to the left of the wall, and a puff of smoke from the same area.
While the crowd were still reeling in horror from the contemplation of what had just happened the thunder of hooves were heard. Most of the people, and the fowls, scattered in panic. A large contingent of The Kings horses and men galloped up. They dismounted by the "scrambled" remains of poor Humpty Dumpty. This is where the malevalence of authority is really shown in all it's depravity. The official version says that they tried to "put him together again". This is a vile lie. The same witness that left testimony about the fourth shot also said that the representatives of the government actually made their horses trample on the pathetic remains, while they laughed and gave each other "high fives".
That was the end of the revolt. The death of the only person/egg that could communicate with farmyard fowls meant that there was no longer an effective revolutionary leader and all the Geese, Chickens, and Ducks returned to the life of slavery and exploitation that they suffer today. No doubt sometimes they dream about the day when another "Hybrid Hero" might be born to lead them to a much better life. All history of the revolt was suppressed by the tyranical government. The only account that was allowed to survive is the nursery rhyme, and that eventually became the only one that was remembered. The revolt in the american colonies, followed shortly afterwards by the French Revolution and the Napoleonic wars meant that both government and people had many more things to occupy their minds. If it were not for a brave early member of The Ancient Society of Secret historians taking some depositions from the few people courageous enough to come forward the momentous events of 1773 might be erased forever from history.
The Proof. (In case you dont believe me.)
For those of you, for whom my international reputation for veracity is not enough, there is some actual evidence still preserved. It is in The Natural History Museum in London, and it is not generally available for show to the general public.
In a drawer in the basement of this museum there is a collection of egg fragments. These are labeled "Patagonian Orange Goose eggs". They are said to have been brought back by Charles Darwin from his famous voyage around the world. This is not what they are. The fact that they have "Powder burn" marks around the edges and that they are in company with the skeletal remains of arms and legs is the give away. On reciept of a written request permission can be given to view the exhibit.But you must sign The Official Secrets Act first, and agree not to take any photographs.