The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection

by George MacDonald Fraser

  Someone was alive, though – alive and libelling me most damnably. Not that it wasn’t true, every vile word of it – oh, it was all too true, that was the trouble, but the devil with that, it was a foul, malicious blot on my good name … dear Christ, here was more!

  “… Flashman’s brutality had disgusted most even of his intimate friends …” No, by God, there was one downright, shameful lie – the kind of friends I had at Rugby you couldn’t have disgusted, not Speedicut and Rattle and that lot … What next? “Coward as he was, Flashman couldn’t swallow such an insult …” and then followed a description of a fight, in which I (“in poor condition from his monstrous habit of stuffing”) was soundly thrashed by a couple of fags and skulked off whining: “You shall pay for this …”

  I believe I foamed at the mouth at this point, and yet again at the description of my drunken expulsion from Rugby, but what was even worse was the scene in which the unctuous little swabs, Brown and East, were described as praying for “poor Flashman”. I hurled the book across the carriage, and set about thrashing my bearer, and only when I’d driven him howling on to the carriage-roof did I settle down and realise the full bitterness of what this vindictive biographer had done.

  He’d ruined me – half England must have read the beastly thing by now. Oh, it was plain enough why Cardigan had sent it to me, the spiteful swine. How could I ever hold up my head again, after this poisonous attack? – my God, just in my moment of supreme glory, too! What would my Cross and my Knighthood be worth now, with this venom spewed on me by “an Old Boy”?, whoever the brute was … probably some greasy little sneak whom I’d disciplined for his own good, or knocked about in boyish fun … well, by heaven he’d pay for it! I’d sue the wicked, scribbling son-of-a-bitch through every court in England, I’d have every lousy penny he owned, and the shirt off his back, and see him starve in the gutter, or rot in jail for criminal slander –

  “No!” I roared, shaking my first, “I’ll kill the bastard, that’s what I’ll do – after I’ve sued him! I’ll call him out, if he’s a civilian, and blow his mangy head off on Calais sands – I’ll horsewhip him publicly …”

  [At this point, with a torn page and several explosive blots, the fifth packet of the Flashman Papers comes to an end.]

  [N.B. – Flashman apparently never took action against Thomas Hughes, the author of Tom Brown’s Schooldays, which first appeared in 1857 and had achieved immense success before Flashman saw it in India. Probably he came to realise, after his first understandable indignation had subsided, that any harm it did to his reputation was trifling, and that the publicity of litigation could only make things worse. But it is possible that he made the threat of legal action, and demanded some retraction; it is at least interesting that when the sequel, Tom Brown at Oxford, appeared in 1861, Hughes devoted a preface to denying any identification of himself with Tom Brown: “… neither is the hero a portrait of myself [he wrote] nor is there any other portrait in either of the books, except in the case of Dr Arnold, where the true name is given.” The italics are the editor’s; the satisfaction was presumably Flashman’s.]

  * * *

  a Fans.

  APPENDIX I:

  The Indian Mutiny

  As far as it goes, and leaving aside those more personal experiences and observations which there is no confirming or denying, Flashman’s account of his service in the Mutiny seems both generally accurate and fair. His descriptions of Meerut, before and during the outbreak, of Cawnpore and Lucknow and Jhansi and Gwalior, are consistent with other eye-witness accounts; at worst, he differs no more from them than they do from each other. As to causes and attitudes, he seems to give a sound reflection of what was being said and thought in India at the time.

  It is still difficult to discuss certain aspects of the Mutiny without emotion creeping in; it was an atrociously bloody business, and it is not easy to appreciate entirely the immense intensity of feeling on both sides. How to explain the conduct of Nana Sahib at Cawnpore, on the one hand, or on the other, the attitude of the Christian and personally kindly John Nicholson, who wanted legislation passed for the flaying, impaling, and burning of mutineers? Flashman’s observations are not without interest, but it is really superfluous to comment on them; there should not be, for intelligent people, any question of trying to cast up the atrocious accounts, or attempting to discover a greater weight of “blame” on one side or the other. Fashions in these things change, as Flashman remarks, and one should beware of fashionable judgements. Sufficient to say that fear, shock, ignorance, and racial and religious intolerance, on both sides, combined to produce a hatred akin to madness in some individuals and groups – British, Hindoo and Muslim – but by no means among all.

  At the same time, it is worth remembering that the struggle which produced so much cruelty and shame was also marked by countless examples of self-sacrifice and human kindness almost beyond understanding, and by devotion and heroism which will last as long as British and Indian memory: the spirit which inspired the last stand of a handful of unnamed mutineers in Gwalior fortress was the same as that which held the wall of Wheeler’s entrenchment at Cawnpore.

  APPENDIX II:

  The Rani of Jhansi

  Lakshmibai, Maharani of Jhansi, was one of the outstanding leaders of the Mutiny, and a heroine of Indian history. She has been compared, not unjustly, to Joan of Arc; on the other hand, while the evil reputation which propaganda gave her in her lifetime has now been largely discounted, there remain some shadows over her memory.

  The general facts about her career, as Flashman learned them from Palmerston and Skene, and as he himself describes them, are accurate – her upbringing, marriage, political attitudes, part in the Mutiny, escape, campaigning, and death. What is less clear is when and why she became actively involved in the Mutiny, for even after the Jhansi massacre (see Notes) she professed friendship for the Sirkar; it may even be that, despite her bitterness towards the British, she would have stayed clear of rebellion if she could. What is certain is that, once committed, she led her troops with great resolution and personal bravery – she was, in fact, a fine swordswoman and rider, and a good shot, as a result of her upbringing among boys (Nana Sahib among them) at the Peshawa’s court.

  On a more everyday level, Flashman’s impressions of Lakshmibai and her court are borne out by contemporary accounts. He seems to have given a fair picture of her conduct of affairs and public behaviour, as well as of such details as her daily routine, her apartments, private zoo, recreations and tea-parties, and even clothing and jewellery. Other Britons who met her shared at least some of his enthusiasm for her looks (“remarkably fine figure … beautiful eyes … voluptuous … beautiful shape”, are among the descriptions, although one added that he thought her “not pretty”). The most apparently authentic surviving portrait shows her much as Flashman first describes her. Her personality seems to have been pleasant enough, if forceful (her two most quoted remarks are “I will not give up my Jhansi”, and the taunt thrown at Nana Sahib when they were children: “When I grow up I’ll have ten elephants to your one!”).

  But her true character remains a mystery. Whether she is regarded as a pure-hearted patriot, or as a devious and cruel opportunist is a matter of choice – she may have been something of each. Her epitaph was given by her most persistent enemy, Sir Hugh Rose, speaking of the rebel leaders; he called Lakshmibai “the best and bravest”.

  (For biographies see The Rebellious Rani, by Sir John Smyth, V.C., and The Ranee of Jhansi, by D. V. Tahmankar. Also in Sylvester, Forrest, Kaye/Malleson.)

  Notes

  1. Lord Cardigan, who led the Charge of the Light Brigade, was a popular hero after Balaclava, but a reaction set in against him in 1856, with rumours that he had shirked his duty, and even that he had not reached the Russian guns at all. The law-suit did not take place until 1863, when Cardigan sued Colonel Calthorpe for libel on the subject; it was established that he had been at the guns, and also that he had left his briga
de during the action which, although it did not reflect on his personal courage, left a large question-mark over his fitness for command.

  2. Punch also noted that at this dinner champagne was served at the rate of only one bottle per three guests.

  3. For once Flashman is exact with a date – it was on the 21st that Florence Nightingale had a two-hour meeting with the Queen at Balmoral. In fact, his recollections of Balmoral are so exact, even down to topics of conversation and the state of the weather on particular days, that one suspects he is indebted to the detailed diary which his wife Elspeth kept during their married life, and which forms part of The Flashman Papers. (For corroboration, see Queen Victoria’s Letters, 1827–61, ed. Benson and Esher; The Queen at Balmoral by F. P. Humphrey (1893); Life of the Prince Consort, 5 vols., by Sir T. Martin (1875–80); Twenty Years at Court, by Eleanor Stanley (1916); and A Diary of Royal Movements … in the life of Queen Victoria (1883).

  4. No record can be found of a visit by Lord Palmerston to Balmoral in late September, 1856; obviously it must have been kept secret, along with the disturbing news that chapattis had appeared in an Indian regiment: most histories of the Mutiny do not mention chapattis as appearing until early in 1857.

  For the rest, Flashman gives a fair picture of “Pam” as his contemporaries saw him – a popular, warm-hearted, impulsive, and (to some eyes) deplorable figure whom Disraeli described as a “painted old pantaloon”. Lord Ellenborough was a former Governor-General of India, and Sir Charles Wood, although at the Admiralty when Flashman met him, had been President of the Board of Control for India from 1853–55, and was to return to the India Office from 1859–66.

  5. The missionaries were greatly displeased at a government decision in 1856–7 that education in Indian schools should be secular. The fear of Christianisation was certainly present among Indians at this time, and is considered to have been a main cause of the Mutiny. Preaching army officers were regarded as especially dangerous: Governor-General Canning, who was was unjustly suspected of being an ardent proselytiser, actually said of one religiously-minded colonel that he was unfit to be trusted with his native regiment, and Lord Ellenborough delivered a strong warning in the House of Lords on June 9, 1857, against “colonels connected with missionary operations … You will see the most bloody revolution which has at any time occurred in India. The English will be expelled.” This contrasts with the statement of Mr Mangles, chairman of the East India Company: “Providence has entrusted the empire of Hindoostan to England in order that the banner of Christ should wave triumphant from one end of India to the other.”

  6. John Nicholson (1821–57) was one of the legendary figures of British India, and an outstanding example of the type of soldier-administrator who became known as “the desert English”, possibly because many of them were Scots or Irish. Their gift, and it was rare, was of winning absolute trust and devotion from the people among whom they worked in the East; Nicholson had it to an unusual degree, and when he was only twenty-seven the religious sect of “Nikkulseynites” was formed, worshipping him with a fervour which caused him much annoyance. As a soldier and administrator he was brilliant; as a Victorian case-study, fascinating. Since he served in the First Afghan War he would certainly have known Flashman, but it is interesting that they met as described here, since in late 1856 Nicholson should have been far away on the frontier. However, as he was about to enter on new duties at Peshawar about this time, it is conceivable that he came south first, and that they met on the Agra Trunk Road.

  7. The Guides was perhaps the most famous fighting unit in the history of British India. Raised by Henry Lawrence in 1846, and commanded by Harry Lumsden, it became legendary along the frontier as an intelligence and combat force of both infantry and cavalry (Kipling, it will be remembered, used the Guides’ mystique in his “Ballad of East and West”). It is interesting that Flashman recognised Sher Khan as an ex-Guide by his coat, since the regiment normally wore nondescript khaki rather than a military colour.

  8. Flashman’s assumption that the Rani would be much older was not unnatural. He had heard Palmerston describe her as “old when she married”, which, by Indian standards, she was, being well into her teens.

  9. The General Service Enlistment Act (1856) required recruits to serve overseas if necessary. This was one of the most important grievances of the sepoys, who held that crossing the sea would break their caste.

  10. Irregular cavalry units of the British Indian armies occasionally dressed in a highly informal style, so the Afghan rissaldar might conceivably have been wearing an old uniform coat of Skinner’s Horse (“The Yellow Boys”). But it is unlikely that he had ever served in that unit – the Guides would have been more his mark.

  11. The society of Thugs (lit. deceivers) were worshippers of the goddess Kali, and practised murder as a religious devotion which would ensure them a place in paradise. They preyed especially on travellers, whom they would join on the road with every profession of friendship before suddenly falling on them at a prearranged signal; the favourite method of killing was strangulation with a scarf. The cult numbered thousands before Sir William Sleeman stamped them out in the 1830s, but since many continued at large, and the Jhansi region was traditionally a hotbed of thugee, it is perfectly possible that ex-Thugs were active as Flashman says. In some cases it was possible to identify a former Thug by a tattoo on his eyelid or a brand on his back.

  12. “Pass him some of his own tobacco” – a grim joke by Ilderim’s companion. “Pass the tobacco” was the traditional verbal signal of the Thugs to start killing.

  13. There was indeed a Makarram Khan, who who served in the Peshawar Police, and later became a notable frontier raider at the head of a band of mounted tribesmen, fighting against the Guides cavalry. (See History of the Guides, 1846–1922).

  14. The offering and touching of a sword hilt, in token of mutual respect, was traditional in the Indian Cavalry. (See From Sepoy to Subedar, the memoirs of Sita Ram Pande, who served in the Bengal Army for almost fifty years. They were first published a century ago, and recently edited by Major-General James Lunt.)

  15. It is curious that Flashman makes no reference to dyeing his skin (as Ilderim had suggested) and indeed seems to imply that he found it unnecessary. But dark as he was, and light-skinned as many frontiersmen are, he must surely have stained his body, or he could hardly have passed for long in a sepoy barrack-room.

  16. Of the sepoys whom Flashman mentions by name, only two can be definitely identified as serving in the 3rd N.C. skirmishers at this time – Pir Ali and Kudrat Ali, who were both corporals, although Flashman refers to Pir Ali as though he were an ordinary sepoy.

  17. “Addiscombe tripe” refers to the officers, not the jemadars and n.c.o.s. Addiscombe was the military seminary which trained East India Company cadets from 1809 to 1861. Flashman’s prejudice may be explained by the fact that Lord Roberts, among other famous soldiers, went there.

  18. The fears and grievances which Flashman recounts probably give a fair reflection of the state of mind of many sepoys in early 1857. Rumours of polluted flour and greased cartridges, and stories like that of the Dum-Dum sweeper, reinforced the suspicion that the British were intent on interfering with their religion, breaking their caste, altering terms of enlistment, and generally changing the established order. To these were added the Oude sepoys’ discontent at the recent annexation of their state, which cost them certain privileges, and resentment at the changed attitude towards them (by no means imaginary, according to some contemporary writers) of a new generation of British officers and troops, who seemed more ignorant and contemptuous than their predecessors; this unfortunately coincided with the arrival in the Bengal Army of a better class of sepoys, possibly quicker to take offence – or, according to some writers, more spoiled.

  All these things combined to undermine confidence and cause unrest, and there was no lack of agitators ready to play on the sepoys’ fears. The belief that the British intended to Christianise Indi
a (see Note 5) was widespread, and reinforced by such reforms as the suppression of thugee and suttee (widow-burning). The resentment which reform had created among Indian princes has been referred to: in addition, educational innovations created disquiet (see Lawrence’s evidence to the Select Committee on India, July 12, 1859, E.I. Parliamentary Papers, vol. 18); so even did the development of the railway and telegraph. With all these underlying factors, it will be seen that the greased cartridge was eventually only the spark to the tinder. (See also Sita Ram, Lord Robert’s Forty-one Years in India, Kaye and Malleson’s History of the Sepoy War and History of the Indian Mutiny (1864–80), G. W. Forrest’s History of the Indian Mutiny (1904–12), and the same author’s Selections from the Letters, Despatches and C.S.P…. Government of India, 1857–8.)

  19. Mrs Captain MacDowall’s advice on the running of an Indian household might serve as a model for its time. (See the Complete Indian Housekeeper, by G. G. and F. A. S. published in 1883.)