ABSTRACT
The first chapter of 1be Guns of August (Tuchman, 1962) entitled 'A Funeral' quickly became a classic example of a historian's power to ensnare readers into a carefully devised trap, for once read, there is little chance they will not leap forward, eager for the rest of the story. She has crafted in these fourteen pages a spectacular drama which Aristotle himself would have to applaud for its adherence to his own classical requirements. It takes place in less than one revolution of the sun; it contains a cast of notable nobles, along with Arthur Conan Doyle looking on from the sidelines as a reporter. And its plot centers around an assemblage of representatives from seventy nations at a turning point in their collective lives. It offers memorable dialogue: 'He is Satan. You cannot imagine what a Satan he is' (Tuchman, 1962, p. 2). Its theme boasts the impending fall of the royal houses of Europe, as the evil Kaiser uses every opportunity to scrutinize his enemies. Its mood and atmosphere offer the pomp and pageantry of a funeral procession of 'splendidly mounted princes'; and its rhythms range from rolls of muffled drums and wails of bagpipes to the solemn 'Dead March' from Saul (Handel, written in 1739). Hovering abov~ these ingredients is the suspenseful sense of irony the author creates, even in her first sentence, which she meticulously maintains throughout: 'So gorgeous was the spectacle on the May morning of 1910 when nine kings rode in the funeral of Edward VIII of England that the crowd, waiting in hushed and black-clad awe, could not keep back gasps of admiration' (Tuchman, 1962, p. 1). Of course, we want to know who and what they saw, and, as we keep reading, the drama unfolds in full color, complete with movement and sound, almost as if we are watching it on the stage or screen.
