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.
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 he, 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
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 diem 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 brigade 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
