A Singularly Unpleasant Creature: Let's Read Flashman!

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Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

I must digress briefly to remind you of the vast change that twenty-five years had wrought in my own fortunes. Back in �49, though a popular hero in England, I�d been a nameless fugitive in the States; now, in 1875, I was Sir Harry Flashman, V.C., K.C.B., with all the supposed heroics of the Crimea, Mutiny, and China behind me, to say nothing of distinguished service to the Union in the Civil War. No one had been too clear what that service was, since it had seen me engaged on both sides, but I�d come out of it with their Medal of Honour and immense, if mysterious, credit, and the only man who knew the whole truth had got a bullet in the back at Ford�s Theatre, so he wasn�t telling. Neither was I � although I will some day, all about Jeb Stuart, and Libby Prison, and my mission for Lincoln (God rest him for a genial blackmailer), and my renewed bouts with the elfin Mrs Mandeville, among others. But that ain�t to the point just now; all that signifies is that I�d gained the acquaintance of such notables as Grant (now President) and Sherman and Sheridan � as well as such lesser lights as young Custer, whom I�d met briefly and informally, and Wild Bill Hickok, whom I�d known well (but the story of my deputy marshal�s badge must wait for another day, too).

Ho mercy, that's a lot. Alright, in one sentance per:

Cameth the hour cameth the man.

"Other than that the play was fine, thank you for asking."

Great cavalry commander when he was around.

A bit too popular even for the government.

Cool head and a fast learner.

Just the man to point at your enemies.

Stood very tall (in the saddle). Alternately: How did it take this long to find an eastern man in blue who knew one end of the horse from the other?!

Sometimes blindly charging in shows shows the depth and sometimes it gets everyone killed.

♫Pushing up the ante, I know you've got to see me, read'em and weep...♫

Anyway, back in a bit.

Arbite fucked around with this message at 00:33 on Jun 12, 2022

# ? Jun 12, 2022 00:30

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# ? Jun 5, 2024 20:09

Norwegian Rudo: May 9, 2013

Keep Mrs. Mandeville in mind as this is one of the few outright mistakes Fraser (or Flashy?) makes in the series.

# ? Jun 14, 2022 10:46

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Norwegian Rudo posted:

Keep Mrs. Mandeville in mind as this is one of the few outright mistakes Fraser (or Flashy?) makes in the series.

Kinda reads like that, but that jumbled mess of American adventures could just be "all the stuff I got up to in-between 49 and 75", not in strict chronological order.

# ? Jun 14, 2022 16:34

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

So now you see Flashy in his splendid prime at fifty-three, distinguished foreign visitor, old comrade and respected military man, with just a touch of grey in the whiskers but no belly to speak of, straight as a lance and a picture of cavalier gallantry as I stoop to salute the blushing cheek of the new Mrs Sheridan at the wedding reception in her father�s garden.50 Little Phil, grinning all over and still looking as though he�d fallen in the river and let his uniform dry on him, led me off to talk to Sherman, whom I�d known for a competent savage, and the buffoon Pope, whose career had consisted of losing battles and claiming he�d won. They were with a big, abrupt cove, whiskered like a Junker, named Crook.

�And how the thunder do I keep �em out of the Black Hills?� he was demanding. �There are ten thousand miners there already, hungry for gold, and I�m meant to say, �Now, boys, you just leave the nuggets be, and run along home directly.� They�ll listen, won�t they?� he snorted, and then Sheridan was presenting me. I expressed interest in what Crook had been saying, and was enlightened.

It seemed that a few years earlier Washington had made a treaty with the Sioux Indians granting them permanent possession of the Black Hills of Dacotah, which the Sioux regarded as their Valhalla; no white settlers were to come in without Sioux permission, but now that gold had been found in the hills (by a scientific expedition sent out under Custer, in fact) the miners were swarming in, the redskins were protesting, and Crook had been told to get the intruders out, p.d.q.

�You may imagine, sir,� he told me sourly, �how a hard-case prospector will respond when I tell him that he, a free-born American, can�t go where he damned well pleases on American soil. Even if I do persuade or drive him out, he�ll slip back in again. Can�t blame him, sir; the gold�s there, and you can�t keep a dog from its dinner.�

�Treaty or no treaty,� says Pope solemnly.

�Treaty, nothing!� snaps Sherman; he was the same ugly, black-avised bargee who you remember observed that war is hell, and then proved it; I was interested to see that ten years hadn�t mellowed him. �That�s all I hear from the soapy politicians and Bible-punching hypocrites in Washington, and the virtuous old women who get up funds for the relief of our �red brothers� � how our wicked government violates treaties! But not a word about Indian violations, no, sirree! We guaranteed �em the Black Hills, sure � and they guaranteed us to keep the peace. How do they keep their bargain? � by ripping up the tracks, scalping settlers, and tearing six kinds of hell out of each other after every sun dance! How many of �em have settled on the reservations, tell me that!�

That's Sherman alright.

quote:

Pope wagged his fat head and said he understood that some thousands had come into the agencies, and settled down quietly.

�You don�t say!� cries Sherman scornfully. �Seen the Indian Office figures, have you? Out of fifty-three thousand Sioux, forty-six thousand are �wild and scarcely tractable� � those are the very words, sir. Oh, they�ll come in to the agencies, and collect the provisions we�re fool enough to hand out to them, and the clothes and blankets and rifles � you bet they�ll have the rifles! For hunting, naturally.� He prepared to spit, and remembered he was at a wedding. �Hunting white settlers and soldiers, I dare say. Know how many thousands of new rifles � Winchester and Remington repeaters, too � were shipped up the Missouri by Indian traders last year? How many million cartridges? No, you don�t know, because Washington daren�t say. And the benevolent government permits it, to hostiles who�ve no least notion of settling on reservations, or turning to farming, or accepting the education offered �em by a bunch of old women in pants back East who�d never dare put their noses west of St Louis. Is it any wonder the Sioux think we�re soft, and grow more insolent by the day?� He let out a great snort of disgust. �Oh, the hell with it, I need a drink.�51

He stumped off, and Crook shook his head. �He�s right on one thing: it makes no sense to arm the tribes while we keep our own troops short of proper equipment. Someone is going to have to pay for that policy sooner or later, I fear � probably someone in a blue coat earning $13 a month to guard his country�s frontier.�

It sounded very much like the usual soldiers� talk about politicians � except that Sherman and Sheridan at least weren�t usual soldiers. Sherman was commander-in-chief of the U.S. Army, and Little Phil commanded the Missouri Division, which meant the whole Plains country to the Rockies. I didn�t doubt they were well informed on the Indian question, and I knew the government was notoriously corrupt and inefficient, although Grant himself was said to be straight enough. Innocently I said I supposed the business of supplying the Indians was a very lucrative one; Pope choked on his drink, Sheridan shot me a glance, but Crook looked me straight in the eye.

�That�s the devil of it � a trader can get $100 in buffalo skins for one repeater, and twenty cents a cartridge. But that�s small beer to the profits of contractors who supply the agencies with rotten meat and mouldy flour, or agents who cook their books and grow fat at the Indians� expense.�

�Come now, George,� cries Pope, �not all agents are rascals.�

�No, some of �em are just incompetent,� says Crook. �Either way, the Indian goes hungry, so I guess I can�t blame him if he prefers not to rely on the agencies � except for weapons.�

�Forty-six thousand hostiles, well-armed?� says I. �That�s about twice the size of the U.S. Army, isn�t it?�

Mind, at the end of the Civil War the Union had a million under arms.

quote:

�Gentlemen, we have a British spy in our midst!� says Sheridan, laughing. �Yes, that�s about right � but not all of those Indians are truly hostile, whatever Sherman thinks. Only a handful, in fact. The rest simply don�t want to live on agencies and reservations. The few real wild spirits � Crazy Horse, Sitting Bull, and the like � don�t amount to more than a few thousand braves. There�s no danger of a general outbreak, if that�s what you�re thinking. No danger of that at all.�

And now came Elspeth tripping radiantly to reprove me for not presenting the famous General Crook � of whom she�d never heard, of course, but the little flirt knew a fine figure of a man when she saw one. So now Crook beamed and made a chest and bowed and called her �my lady� and absolutely behaved like a faithful sheepdog while I admired her performance with a jaundiced eye, and the talk murmured on under the trees in the drowsy summer afternoon; I did the polite with the prettiest bridesmaid at the punchbowl, and forgot all about Indians.

It came back a few hours later, though, when the coincidence happened. Until Sheridan�s wedding I hadn�t thought about redskins for years, and now, the very same day, the old West laid its horny hand softly on my shoulder for the second time.

Ain't that a turn of phrase.

Also here's Crook.

We'll see what comes from this infodump... next time!

# ? Jun 15, 2022 23:25

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

Elspeth and I were going in to dinner at the Grand Pacific, and I had turned into their big public lavatory to comb my whiskers or adjust my galluses; I was barely aware of a largish man who was examining his chin closely in a mirror and grunting to himself, and I was just buttoning up and preparing to leave when the humming ended in a rasping growl of surprise.

�Inyun! Joll-ee good! Washechuskaa Wind Breaker! Hoecah!�52

I bore up sharp, for I don�t suppose I�d heard Siouxan spoken in more than twenty years � and then I stood amazed. My companion had turned from the mirror, tweezers in hand, and was regarding me in delighted surprise. I gaped, for I couldn�t credit it; there stood a figure in evening trousers and coat, starched front and all � and above it the bronzed hawk face of a full-blooded Plains Indian brave, with a streak of paint just below the parting of his glossy black hair, which hung to his waist in long braided tails, one adorned with a red eagle�s feather. Well, I�d known American hotels were odd, but this beat all. The apparition advanced, beaming.

�You remember? At Fort Laramie, the year after the Great Sickness? You, me, Carson the Thrower-of-Ropes? Han?�b

Suddenly the years fell away, and I was back in the hollow where Wootton and I skinned the buffalo, and that awful visitation � the painted face with the coonskin hanging from its cap � and the feast with the Brul� at Laramie � �joll-ee good! joll-ee good!� � and the same black devil�s eyes glinting at me. By some freak of memory it was his Indian name that I remembered first.

�Sintay Galeska! Good God, can it be you?�

quote:

He nodded vigorously. �The Spotted Tail. Hinteh,c how long has it been? You have grown well, Wind Breaker � with a little frost in your hair.� He pointed to the grey in my whiskers, chuckling.

I was still taken all aback � as you would be if you�d met the King of the Cannibal Isles rushing naked round the South Seas, and twenty years later he tooled up to you in the Savoy in full evening fig, and began assailing you in broken English and a native tongue you�d all but forgotten. Why, the last time I�d seen him he�d been in breech-clout and war-bonnet, all smeared with buffalo blood � now he was rumbling on in Sioux, and I was struggling to identify those sonorous vowels, dredging words from the back of my mind.

�Hold on a moment � er, anoptah!d You�re Spotted Tail, the Brul�? The � the killer of Pawnees?� And instinctively my hand went up to crook a finger at my brow, which is sign-talk for Pawnee, the Wolf-Folk � heaven knew where that memory had come from, after so long. He crowed approvingly, nodding. �But � but what the devil are you doing � here, I mean?�

�Here? Grand Pacific?� He shrugged massively. �It not so good. Palmer House better � bully girl-servants, joll-ee pretty. But got no rooms, so my people and I come here. Huh!�

This was a ridiculous dream, obviously. �I mean, what are you doing � far from your lodge? In the city � in those clothes?�

�Ho!� I could have sworn his eyes twinkled. �The white man�s robes, very proper. I have been to the tipi of the Great Father in Washington. For pow-wow on high matters. Now we return to the place of my people � at my agency, the agency of Spotted Tail, on the White River. Two suns, in the iron horse, How-how! Wait.� And he thrust his great head at the mirror again, breathed gustily, tweaked a hair from his chin, and pocketed his tweezers. As he straightened his coat I saw with alarm that he had a revolver in his arm-pit and a scalping-knife in an embroidered scabbard thrust in his pants waistband.

�How! We eat now, together. Horse�s doovers and large snow puddings that make the tongue dead. Joll-ee good!� He grinned again and laid a huge paw on my shoulder. �My heart is as the lark to see again a friend from my youth, who remembers the time when the buffalo covered the plains like a blanket. Hunhe!e Come to grub!�

Still recovering as I was, I was suspecting that Mr Spotted Tail, chief of the Brul� Sioux, was something of a joker. My gift of language has always been good enough to enable me to turn my mind instantly to any tongue I�ve ever learned, no matter how long ago, so that within a minute of our meeting I was thinking in Siouxan. And while I knew how picturesque it was, with its splendid metaphors, I sensed that he was using them ironically as often as not. He didn�t have to talk to me about �the tipi of the Great Father�, or �snow puddings that make the tongue dead�; he could just as easily have said �White House� or �ice-cream� � he knew the names of Chicago�s hotels well enough, and had a smattering of English. But he was smart as paint, and I guessed it suited him to play the romantic stage-Indian when he came east on the �iron horse� to �pow-wow�.

Smart as paint would nowadays be more clearly stated as 'Bright as a fresh coat of paint."

quote:

But I couldn�t get over our strange meeting, and as we walked to the dining-room I demanded to know what he�d been doing, and where he�d learned English � not that he had much.

�In prison,� says he calmly. �At Fort Leavenworth, after we slew Grattan�s pony-soldiers and the Isantankaf put me in irons. Yun!g And when the great pow-wows began between my people and the chiefs of the Isanhanska,h they took us to Washington to talk of treaties. Heh-heh!i How they bit through our ears! Now I live at the agency with my people, the Burned Thighs, and they try to make us scratch the ground with iron spikes.� He shook with laughter. �And you, Wind Breaker? You have been beyond the big water all these years among the Washechuska? Tell me of �� He stopped abruptly, staring, and then like a big cat slid aside behind a potted palm, peering ahead over its fronds. �Hinte! Hoecah! Wah!�

I turned to see what had astonished him, and understood. My dear wife, who is nothing if not patient, was waiting on a couch by the dining-room doors, fanning herself idly, and innocently ignoring the admiring glances of gentlemen passing through. She was wearing something blue from Paris, as I recall, which left her mostly bare to the waist, and to impress the colonials she had decorated her upper works with the diamond necklace presented to her by the Grand Duke Alexis, a lecherous Russian lout of our acquaintance. I�m proud to say that she was a sight to gladden the heart; Spotted Tail was grunting deep and pointing like a gun-dog.

�Hopa! Ees,j hopa!k That,� says he reverently, �is a woman!�

�I believe you�re right,� says I. �My wife, don�t you know? Come along. My dear, may I present an old associate, Mr Spotted Tail, of the Sioux. Not the Berkshire Sioux, you understand, the Brul�s � my wife, Lady Flashman.� He took her hand like a stricken grandee, bowing over it from his imposing height until his braids met. He implanted a smacking kiss you could have heard in Baltimore on her glove, murmuring: �Oh, lady, so pleased, so beautiful, just bully!� and his black eyes positively burned as he straightened up. �Wihopawinl � wah! Hopa! Hopa!� My fair one gave him her most wide-eyed, guileless smile, which I knew for a sure sign that she was willing to be dragged into the long grass at a moment�s notice, and said in her shyest little voice that she was enchanted. He shot his cuff, thrust out an arm like a tree-trunk, delicately placed her glove on it, and stalked with her into the dining-room, crying �Bes!�m for the head-waiter. I followed on, marvelling; I wouldn�t have missed this for the salvation of mankind.

Spotted Tail certainly seems one to make the most of life's few bright spots. This enchanted evening will continue... next time.

# ? Jun 20, 2022 20:39

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Anyone who claimed that Fraser's prose was exceptionally good or praised it in this thread should read The Reavers. I do hope we'll at least get to quote a few chosen passages as an interlude between Flashman books (and also do an actual readthrough of Black Ajax, though censoring out all the racism would be a chore).

# ? Jun 21, 2022 22:48

sebmojo: Oct 23, 2010; Legit Cyberpunk

Xander77 posted:

Anyone who claimed that Fraser's prose was exceptionally good or praised it in this thread should read The Reavers. I do hope we'll at least get to quote a few chosen passages as an interlude between Flashman books (and also do an actual readthrough of Black Ajax, though censoring out all the racism would be a chore).

it sounds like the reavers is him writing a dumb book on purpose? the excerpts in the NYT review sound a little sub-pratchett, how does the book hold up?

# ? Jun 21, 2022 23:13

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

sebmojo posted:

it sounds like the reavers is him writing a dumb book on purpose? the excerpts in the NYT review sound a little sub-pratchett, how does the book hold up?

It's a ~~parody~~ ~~reworking~~ gag-dub of his own Candlemass Road. Much like how The Pyrates is a take on pirate movies, this is a take on Waverly \ whatever other Sotch romances. It's not really "dumb on purpose" - the main plot, as I said, i based on a totally serious book, just overdubbed and overstuffed with "gags".

A lot of reviewers think he's aiming at Pratchett, MST, or (if less charitable) Seltzer and Friedberg. Personally, I peg Fraser as someone who hasn't be paying attention to popular media since at least the 1980's, and the gag style as taken directly from 1960's pulp spy parodies. Run on sentences that keep piling on ~~modern-day~~ 50-year outdated references, aside glances and parentheticals to create a total mess of ~~hilarity~~ messiness.

quote:

Rumours abounded that His Majesty was already being ﬁtted out with tropical kit, Scottish courtiers were practising drawls and trying to stop saying �Whilk" and �umquhile,� the Scottish National Party were preparing banners reading �Home Rule in England� and �It�s Scotland�s Cheddar!,� London merchants were taking options on supplies of Japanese haggis, and Home Counties landowners were preparing to turn their estates into golf courses. But alle was uncertayne, and remayned to be seene.

quote:

Their mouths parted with a long, lingering squelch, and through a cinnamon mist in which dark eyes and lambent moustache still glowed, Lady Godiva came to herself and saw, in dishevelled bewilderment, that her erstwhile lip-ravisher was back in his seat with a jeweller's glass screwed in his eye, examining � nay, it could not be! � her priceless necklace (yes, it's the Dacre Diamonds, that fabulous collar nicked by Sir Acre Dacre from the harem of Suleiman the Improbable in the Third Crusade), her emerald earrings, sapphire fillet, pearl brooch, gold rings, and even her platinum zip-fastener, dammit! Dumbstruck Kylie was giving a creditable impersonation of a Black Hole � and now the gorgeous swine was slipping the lot in his pocket and regarding his victim with heavy-breathing admiration.

Xander77 fucked around with this message at 07:46 on Jun 22, 2022

# ? Jun 22, 2022 07:16

sebmojo: Oct 23, 2010; Legit Cyberpunk

Yeahhhh

# ? Jun 22, 2022 07:21

Remulak: Jun 8, 2001; I can't count to four.; Yams Fan

That�s some real Man From ORGY writing. Flashback to when I was 12 or so:

# ? Jun 25, 2022 02:57

Xander77: Apr 6, 2009; Fuck it then. For another pit sandwich and some 'tater salad, I'll post a few more.

Remulak posted:

That�s some real Man From ORGY writing. Flashback to when I was 12 or so:

Exactly.

That insight into 40 year old Fraser's fap material is fairly unwelcome.

# ? Jun 25, 2022 20:36

Grendel: Jul 21, 2001; Heh, heh, heh...bueno

Yeah, I was deeply unimpressed with The Reavers, Captain In Calico, and The Pyrates, but I quite liked Black Ajax. Frasier was a brilliant satirist, but less skilled at farce. I had the same problem with the Royal Flash movie - it leaned way too far into farce.

However, his non-fiction history of the reavers, The Steel Bonnets, was quite good...if a little biased. At one point, he describes a massacre of about 200 Scotsmen, all members of criminal clans, as "one of the most comprehensive and cruel examples of race persecution in British history".

# ? Jun 26, 2022 02:26

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

He even had a table reserved, with his followers already installed: a couple of young braves dressed civilized like himself, and a third with a coloured blanket over his shoulders, so it was hard to tell whether he was in faultless dinner rig underneath or not � he wore no shoes, though. But what took me aback was that there were two squaws (both wives of the chief�s) in fringed tunics, the whole party seated poker-faced at a large round table, heedless of the whisperings and amused glances of the civilised folk at neighbouring tables.

There were only two spare seats, so Spotted Tail simply heaved the blanket-clad chap to the floor, seated Elspeth next to himself with great ceremony, waved me to a seat on his other hand, pushed the menu aside, and barked: �Horse�s doovers!� These proved to be hors d�oeuvres, and when he had gallantly helped Elspeth by jabbing a huge finger at each plate in turn and grunting �Huh?�, he took the entire tray before himself and engulfed the lot in about two minutes � using a knife and fork, if you�ll believe it.

I suppose I ate, but I confess I was too fascinated to pay much heed. It was startling enough that a great hotel admitted Indians, until I realised that they were used to these occasional delegations passing to and from Washington, and not only tolerated them but made much of them for policy�s sake; also, they were a rare show for the other diners. I overheard covert whispers: �Why, they eat just like civilised people!� and �Isn�t that chief a card, though? Wouldn�t think to look at him he�s taken a hundred scalps, would you?� and �Well, they sure don�t look like savage Sie-oxes to me � I think it�s a great sell!� Drop in on them sometime in their dining-room and you�ll learn different, thinks I to myself.

But it was true: bar the outlandish contrast of the men�s braids and painted faces to their formal suits, and the women�s colourful buckskins, they weren�t at all unlike the other diners. Better-mannered, perhaps; they used the cutlery properly, didn�t gorge or belch (thinking back to Mangas Colorado, or Spotted Tail himself tearing a bloody buffalo hump in his fingers, I could only wonder), sat with perfect composure waiting for the courses, and preserved almost total silence during the meal. Ne�er mind what they looked like, they had dignity by the bucket. They didn�t stink, either, which astonished me � Spotted Tail, next to me, had evidently discovered cologne among other wonders of civilisation.

Unlike his fellows, he talked, so far as anyone can, to Elspeth. Another woman might have been bemused or shocked at finding herself dining with a painted savage, but my darling has never had but one rule: if it is male, between fourteen and eighty, and isn�t hump-backed or cross-eyed, charm it � which oddly enough she contrives to do by chattering incessantly and looking intent. Well, it means the chap can devote himself to looking at her, which Spotted Tail did most ardently; I realised with a qualm that with the paint and blood absent, he was a deuced fine-looking man, far handsomer even than most Sioux, and although he couldn�t understand one word in twenty of what she said he nodded and smiled most appreciatively. Once I heard him say: �You, lady, you not Washechuska � Eengleesh? Hopidan!n You � Scot-teesh? Scotch � ah!� He considered this, and when the waiter presently whispered to her; �French mustard, ma�am? English mustard?�, Spotted Tail threw back his great Sioux head, glared, and demanded: �For love-lee lady � why no Scotch mustard?�

It is a shame that Elspeth never has as much of a role as she did in Flashman's Lady, just her presence makes scenes better.

quote:

That sent her into trills of laughter, and Spotted Tail beamed and patted her arm; aye, thinks I, we must look out here. The young squaw beyond Elspeth evidently thought so too, for with an artless curiosity she leaned forward and began to finger Elspeth�s necklace and earrings, murmuring with admiration. Women being what they are, in a moment they were comparing beads and materials; Spotted Tail sighed and turned to me, so I asked him what had become of his small nephew, the Fair-Haired Boy. He sat back in astonishment.

�Little Curly? You don�t know? Inyun!� He shook his head at my ignorance. �The whole world knows him! He is a big Indian � maybe biggest war chief of all. He has great medicine, and his word runs from the Pahasappa to the Big Horn hills, all through Powder River country. His lance touches the clouds, that little horseman of yours. You haven�t heard of Tashunka Witko of the Oglala?� He repeated it in English. �Crazy Horse.�

Everyone was a baby at some point.

quote:

I said I�d heard his name for the first time that afternoon � and recalled in wonder the laughing mite I�d carried on my saddle. Well, I�d said in jest that he�d be a great man some day; now, I said, the Isantanka chiefs spoke of him as a maverick, the most hostile of Indians.54

�Ho-ho!� cries Spotted Tail angrily, which is the Sioux equivalent of �drat their eyes!� or strong disapproval. �Hiya!o He is a wild warrior � he counted coup on Fetterman and whipped the Long Knives at Lodge Trail Ridge. He is a fighter who hates Americans and has taken many soldier scalps, and they fear him because he makes no treaties and fights for his land and people. But his heart is good and his tongue is straight. Hiya! I am proud of Little Curly, as a kinsman and a Lacotah.p Wah!�

�But you don�t fight the Americans any more; you make treaties for the Burned Thighs, I suppose, since you live on an agency. You even go softly to talk to the Great Father in his tipi,� says I, to bait him, but he just gave me a long slow smile.

�Look you, Wind Breaker, I have seen fifty winters and three. My war-shirt bears more scalps of Pawnee and Crow and Shoshoni and Isantanka soldiers than any other in the Sioux nation. Four times I counted coup on Long Knives in the fight of Bear-That-Scatters under Fort Laramie. Is it enough? It is enough. I have seen the white man�s world now, the fire-canoes and iron horses, the great tipis that touch the clouds, the lodge where fair young maidens guard the Great Father�s gold, the cities where the people are like ants.� He grinned in embarrassment. �Once I thought they sent the same white people after us from city to city, to make us think they were more numerous than they are; now I know that in New York every day more people come from far lands than would make up the whole Lacotah nation. Can Spotted Tail�s lance and hatchet hold back all these? No. They fill the land, they sweep away the buffalo, they plant seed on the prairie where I ran as a young boy, they make roads and railways over the hunting-grounds. Now they will take the Black Hills, the Pahasappa, and there will be no free land left to the Indian.� He broke off to roar �Joll-ee good! Pudden!� as the waiter set about a gallon of ice-cream before him, which he sank as smart as you like and waved for a second helping.

�No, we cannot stop it,� he went on. �To fight is useless. This I know, and make the best terms I can for my own folk, because I see beyond these winters to the time when all the land is the white man�s, and my children must be part of it or wither to nothing. Now others do not see as I do: Crazy Horse and Little Big Man, Black Moon, Gall, and Sitting Bull, perhaps old Red Cloud. They would fight to the last tuft of buffalo grass. They are wrong, and if they go out to battle with the Long Knives I will stay in my lodge, not because my heart is weak but because I am wise. But my heart is Lacotah,� and he put back his great head and I saw the gleam in the black eyes, �and for those that take the last war-path I shall say: Heya-kie, it is a good day to die.�

He said it matter-of-fact, without bluster or self-pity, and there�s no doubt he was right � but then, he was probably the greatest of the Sioux leaders, certainly the cleverest � and as he�d pointed out, quite the most distinguished in war. If the Sioux had heeded him, they�d have been a sight better off today.

Author's Note posted:

This seems to represent Spotted Tail�s philosophy very fairly. A remarkable man, the Brul� chief was considered the Sioux nation�s foremost warrior in the 1840s and 50s; he was credited early in his career with counting 26 coups, and by the end of his life had more than a hundred scalps on his war-shirt. Following the wipe-out of Lt Grattan and his troops by the Brul� under their chief Bear-that-Scatters in 1854, Spotted Tail and four other braves agreed to �give their lives for the good of the tribe�, and surrendered, singing their death-songs. Spotted Tail was imprisoned at Fort Leavenworth, where he is said to have learned some English, and where his observations seem to have convinced him that it was futile to attempt resistance to the white man. Later, as chief of the Brul�s, he was a resolute champion of peace and reconciliation and, says his biographer Hyde, obtained advantages for the Sioux by persuasion which their militant leaders failed to win by war: �He was probably the greatest Sioux chief of his period � (and) played his part better than any of the other Sioux leaders.�

Spotted Tail was highly intelligent, good-natured, and strikingly handsome; the painting by H. Ulke, done in 1877, shows a bold, humorous face which might well have given Flashman cause for jealousy. Bishop Whipple called him �a picture of manly beauty, with piercing eyes�. The chief was also something of a dry wit: dining at the White House, he remarked that the whites had fine tipis, and was assured by President Grant that if he settled down to agriculture, the Government would give him an excellent tipi; Spotted Tail�s response was that if it was a tipi like the White House, he would think about farming. In 1877, it was partly through his efforts that Crazy Horse was persuaded to surrender, and possibly because of this and his �non-hostile� policy in general Spotted Tail was murdered four years later by Crow Dog. (See Hyde, Spotted Tail; Dunn; Poole.)

I can see why Flash should be worried.

We'll see where the evening takes them all... next time.

# ? Jun 26, 2022 05:44

Genghis Cohen: Jun 29, 2013

Grendel posted:

Yeah, I was deeply unimpressed with The Reavers, Captain In Calico, and The Pyrates, but I quite liked Black Ajax. Frasier was a brilliant satirist, but less skilled at farce. I had the same problem with the Royal Flash movie - it leaned way too far into farce.

I also didn't care especially for the Pyrates or the Reivers. Not so much I thought they were badly done, as because they mostly referenced a period of classic films I haven't the same memories of and affection for that he clearly did.

I agree that Royal Flash film was dire. My brother and I were so disappointed when we heard about it as teenagers and tracked a copy down! For anyone who hasn't seen it, it's Malcolm McDowell as Flashy, who is a good actor but must have been 10 stone soaking wet (140 pounds, or about 64kg) and was not plausible as a cad disguised as Victorian hero. It was mostly Bismarck's 3 goons chasing him around, more like the 3 stooges.

# ? Jun 26, 2022 22:10

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

After dinner he insisted that we accompany him to the theatre, taking Elspeth�s hand and positively pleading with her through me as interpreter. I translated those compliments which were fit for her ears, with the result that presently we were bowling off in a cab, with Spotted Tail up beside the driver in a tile hat, roaring at him to go faster. The squaws and blanket chap were left behind, and Elspeth and I shared the inside of the cab with the other two, fine young bucks named Jack Moccasin and Young Frank Standing Bear, who sat with their arms folded in grave silence. Elspeth confided to me that Standing Bear was quite distinguished-looking, and had an air of true nobility.

I might have guessed what entertainment Spotted Tail favoured. It proved to be the lowest kind of music-hall down in the Loop district � what they call burlesque nowadays � with sawdust on the floor, a great bar down one side of the hall doing a roaring trade, pit and gallery crowded with raucous toughs and their flash tarts, an atmosphere blue with smoke and a programme to match. Capital stuff altogether, comedians in loud coats and red noses singing filthy songs, and fat-thighed sluts in spangles and feathers shaking their bums at the orchestra. Elspeth, wearing her most fatuously ingenuous expression, affected not to understand a word � only I knew, when the chief buffoon regaled us with jokes that would have shocked a drunk marine, that behind her fan she was struggling to contain an un-Presbyterian mirth which was in danger of bursting her stays. During the Tableaux (�Scenes from the Sultan�s Seraglio,� �Forbidden Paris,� and �The African Slave Girl�s Dream of Innocence�) she fanned herself languidly and examined the chandelier. Spotted Tail sat wooden-faced and motionless during most of the show, except for a deep internal growling throughout the Tableaux, but when the conjurer came on he bellowed approval, winded me with an elbow in the ribs, and fairly pounded his fists at every trick. Each vanishing card, emergent rabbit, and multiplying handkerchief was greeted with roars of �Inyun! Hoecah! Hopidan! Wah!�, and when the buxom assistant finally stepped unharmed from a casket that had been thrust through with swords and riddled with pistol balls, the great chief of the Brul� Sioux arose from his seat, arms aloft, and bawled his applause to the ceiling.

That conjurer, he told me as we left the theatre, was the greatest medicine man in the world. Wah! he was gifted beyond all other mortals; the Great Father himself was a child beside him � indeed, why was that medicine man not made President? So flown was Spotted Tail that he banished Jack Moccasin to the box of the cab on the way home, so that he could sit with us and describe each trick in awestruck detail � at least, he described it to me and Young Frank Standing Bear, while Elspeth listened in polite incomprehension. For the rest, said Spotted Tail, it had been a pretty rotten show � except for the Tableaux; there had been one girl with red hair whom he would have gladly taken to his tipi, and the black beauties in the Slave�s Dream had reminded him of the girls he had seen in my wagons back in �49 � I hadn�t guessed, had I, he added with a sly grin, that he and his braves had stalked our caravan for two days in the hope of stealing one, but Blue-Eye Wootton had been too watchful. Heh-heh!

Ah, these two dance so beautifully.

quote:

I was thankful that Elspeth didn�t understand Siouxan; so far as she knew I�d crossed the Plains with a company of farmers and Baptists who said prayers night and morning. I was also pleased to learn that Spotted Tail was leaving next day; I didn�t tell Elspeth that he had compared her favourably, and in indelicate detail, with the female performers at the theatre, but there was no mistaking the enthusiasm with which he pressed her hand on parting � or the fact that the vain little baggage went slightly pink, lowering her eyes demurely and positively purring. The deuce with this, thinks I, there�ll be no more noble savages on this trip. And then:

�Harry,� says she, when we were in our room, �what does hopa mean?�

�Beautiful,� says I, middling sour. �And wihopawin, in case you didn�t catch it, is a woman of surpassing loveliness.�

�Gracious me, the things men say! Can you unhook me at the back, dearest? Well, I must say I think it was rather forward of your Mr Spotted Tail to pay me such compliments, although I�ve no doubt he meant no disrespect. He�s very gallant, for a barbarian, don�t you think? Quite distingu�, really � although his taste in entertainment is shockingly low.�

�He�s distingu�, all right,� says I, unhooking moodily. �Mostly for murder and robbery with violence. He�s killed more men than the cholera. Women, too, I shouldn�t wonder.�

�Thank you so much, my love. Oh, such relief! But, you know, Harry, while I allow that it is highly distasteful, I don�t see that it truly signifies if he has killed people or not. So have you � I�ve seen you � and so have any number of our military acquaintances, why, probably even that nice American general with the large beard whom we met today��

�Crook,� says I, reclining wearily.

�Yes, well, I daresay that in the course of his duties General Crook may well have taken human life � although he has such kind eyes � Harry,� says she earnestly, surveying herself in the delectable buff before the pier glass, turning this way and that with her hands on her hips, �do you think I�m hopa?�

�Come over here,� says I, taking notice, �and I�ll show you.�

�I believe I have increased slightly about the hips, and � elsewhere. Do you think it can be a consequence of the American cuisine � these rich puddings ��

�Don�t talk about �em, just bring �em here, there�s a girl. And if you want to lose weight, you know � a foolish whim, in my view � I can give you a capital massage, like the Turkish bath people. Here, I�ll show you!�

Married three-and-a-half decades at this point.

quote:

�Do you think it would be efficacious? If so, I should be most obliged to you, Harry, for I have read that it is beneficial, and I think I should not care to be too plump � Oh, you designing wretch! What deceit! No, now, desist this minute, for I see you are not really interested in reducing me at all��

�Ain�t I though? Come along, now, nothing like healthy exercise!�

�Exercise indeed! You are a shameless monster, to beguile me so � and at my age too! It is too bad, and you are a wicked tease � but � I�m gratified if you think I�m hopa. Mm-mh! � what was the other word � wippo-something?�

�Wihopawin � and no error! My God! Just shut up, will you?�

�They are such musical words � gently, dearest � are they not? They make me think of the brooding solitude of deep eternal forests, with stately Chingachgook beside the council fire � the fragrance of the peace-pipe and the cry of the elk among snow-clad peaks � Harry, my sweet, you are so vigorous that I am quite breathless, and fear for my digestion, perhaps if I go on top? � Well, now that we have met Mr Spotted Tail and his friends I am more resolved than ever to see the native Indians in their natural surroundings, just like the �Deerslayer� and ��

�Could we leave Fenimore Cooper for the moment, you babbling beauty?� says I, gasping as we changed over. �Oh! Ah! Elspeth, I love you, you adorable houri! Please, for heaven�s sake��

�� to observe them with their papooses and wigwams I�m sure would be highly edifying and instructive, for I believe they have many singular customs and ceremonies not to be seen elsewhere,� continued the lovely idiot, squirming in a way that any respectable matron would have forgotten years before, �and I am certain that Mr Tail would render us � yes, my hero, in a moment � every assistance, and it would be such a romantic journey, which you know so well, and it would be so selfish of you not to take me � and you are not selfish, I�m sure � I hope not � are you, Harry �?�

�No! Oh, God! Anything! I�ll � I�ll think about it! Please �!�

�Oh, thank you, kindest of husbands! Dear me, I believe I am about to swoon � now, when I count to three � one � two � you will take me, dearest Harry, won�t you? � two-and-a-half ��

As I said before, it was all her fault.

Well, with that scintillating passage the chapter ends. Let's see how he gets dropped in it... next time!

# ? Jul 4, 2022 07:03

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

Naturally I did my best to wriggle out of it next day, since the artful baggage had taken such unfair advantage of me, first provoking my jealousy and then my ardour, stirring her rump before the mirror � did I think she was hopa, forsooth � and extracting a half-promise when she had me in extremis. And she called me designing! And all because she had taken a passion for that damned Sioux, what with his feral charm and her nursery dreams of noble savages, forgotten while she�d had the social circus of Boston to distract her butterfly brain. They had revived under his smouldering regard, and I guessed she was having delicious shivers at the thought of him sweeping her off at his saddlebow and having his wicked will of her by the shores of Gitchee-Gummee. She�d been just the same with that fat greaser Suleiman Usman, who had filled her head with twaddle about being his White Jungle Queen � well, I wasn�t risking that again. The trouble with Elspeth, you see, is that while I doubt if she really wants to be abducted and ravished by hairy primitives � well, not exactly � she�s such a congenital flirt that she sometimes gets more than she bargains for.

So I wasn�t going to have her making a Western jaunt an excuse for renewing fond acquaintance with Master Spotted Tail, who�d have her in the bushes quicker than knife. But when I said that on reflection I�d decided that a trip West would be too taxing for her, there were tears and sobs of �But you promised ��, so in the end I gave way, secretly determining that whatever route we took would run well clear of his agency. Given that, I didn�t mind indulging her girlish fantasies with a brief tour of the wilds in a transcontinental Pullman; she could have her fill of Vast Plains and Brooding Forests from the window of a private hotel car, and never mind Chinga-chgook; we might stop off at some tame Indian village (one sniff of that would cure her notions), and perhaps a cattle-ranch or gold-mine. It could all be done in luxurious comfort and perfect safety.

You see, it was all changed since my early days. The map was being filled in; the great wilderness had its railroads and stage lines now, its forts and town and ranches and mines. It was still wild, in parts � some of it even virtually unexplored � but there wasn�t a true frontier any more, in the sense of a north-south line dividing civilization from outer darkness.

If you look at the map you�ll see what I mean. The train and the steamboat had forged the links across the continent and up and down, leaving only the spaces in between. The most important of these, for my story, was the great stretch of the High Plains in what is now Montana, Wyoming, and the Dacotahs; to east and north it was bounded by the Missouri river, along which the steamboats carried the Western traffic to the foot of the Rockies, and to the south by the railroad from Omaha to Cheyenne and the Great Salt Lake. These were the arteries of civilisation, along which you could travel as swiftly and safely (with luck, anyway) as from London to Aberdeen.

Wait no, that's not it...

quote:

It was the land they enclosed that was the trouble, for while the boats and trains might run round its limits, there wasn�t much going through it, not in a hurry. This was the last stamping-ground of the Sioux, the biggest and toughest Indian confederacy in North America, a greater thorn in Washington�s side than even my old friends the Apaches of the south-west. Fifty thousand Sioux, Sherman had reckoned, and their allies the Northern Cheyenne, first cousins to those stone-faced giants I�d met on the Arkansas. In those days the Sioux had been lords of the prairie from the Santa Fe Trail to the British border, from Kansas to the Rockies, tolerating the wagon-trains (give or take a raid now and then) and rubbing along quietly enough with the few troops that the Americans sent into the West.

All that had changed. The ever-advancing settlements, the bypassing of their country by rail and river, had forced the Plains Tribes back from the limits of civilisation around them, into their heartland, bewildered and angry. They�d broken out in Minnesota in �62, and been put down; when the government tried to put the Bozeman Road slap through their territory, Red Cloud had taken the war-path and fought them to a standstill; but although the road was given up and the forts abolished, their victory probably did the Sioux more harm than good, since it convinced the wilder spirits that the Yanks could be stopped by force. They didn�t see it was a struggle they must lose in the end, and so for twenty-five years the scrappy, unorganised warfare had smouldered on, with every now and then a real dust-up to stoke the growing hatred and mistrust on both sides. Crazy Horse had hammered Fetterman, Spotted Tail and Co. had lifted eighty cavalry scalps almost in Laramie�s backyard; on the American side the Cromwellian lunatic Chivington had butchered the Arapaho and Cheyenne at Sand Creek, and Custer on the Washita had descended on Black Kettle�s village with his flutes tootling Garryowen and left more than a hundred corpses in the snow. These were the solo pieces, so to speak, but always there was the accompaniment of burned settlements, derailed trains, and ambushed wagons, and punitive expeditions, dispossessions, and tribal evictions.

Naturally, each side blamed the other for bad faith and treachery and refusal to see reason � the Indian version of Washita, for example, was that Custer wantonly attacked a peaceful village, but one of his troopers told me he�d seen freshly-taken white scalps in the Indian lodges. Choose who you will to believe.

The wiser Sioux leaders, like Spotted Tail and Red Cloud, saw how it must end and made peace, but that solved nothing while the real Ishmaels like Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse remained beyond the pale. And even the treaty Indians broke out from time to time, for the agents who were meant to supply them cheated them blind as often as not, Washington neglected them, and life on a reservation or agency was a poor thing compared to roaming their ancestral plains and robbing when they felt like it.

No, not that either...

quote:

By 1875, though, it looked as though the thing must peter out at last; hunters and sportsmen had swept the buffalo off the prairie at a rate of a million a year, until they were all but extinct � and the Indian without buffalo is worse off than the Irish without the potato, for it�s clothing and lodging to him as well as food. Plainly even the wildest hostiles would have to chuck it and settle down soon; the discovery of gold in the Black Hills, which would inevitably mean the loss to the tribes of yet another stretch of territory, must only hasten the process, for it would leave them little except the barely-explored fastness south of the Yellowstone called the Powder River country, and with game so scarce they would have to call it a day or starve. That was the general view, so far as I could gather, and with it went the opinion that I�d heard from Sheridan: however it ended, there wouldn�t be a war. An ugly incident or two here and there, perhaps � regrettable, but probably inevitable with such people � but no real trouble. No, sir.

Which was most comforting to me, as I considered how to satisfy my darling�s hunger to see the Wild West; yes, the railroad would carry us well clear of the dangerous Sioux country � and Spotted Tail, incidentally. But before we set out, we must journey to Washington, for Elspeth�s social navvying in Boston had secured us an invitation to visit the capital � Washington in summer, God help me � and my lady was confident that we would be summoned to the White House, �for the President is your old comrade-in-arms, and it would be very curious if he were to overlook the presence of such a distinguished visitor as a Knight of the Bath�. I told her she didn�t know Sam Grant. As it turned out, her ignorance was nothing compared with mine.

Is there seriously no fancy gif of the expansion of rail lines on the continental US to be found anywhere?

Oh. Uh, Grant next time...

# ? Jul 8, 2022 22:43

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

Washington, a dismal swamp at the best of times, was sweaty and feverish, and so were its inhabitants, with Grant�s presidency soon to enter its final year and the whole foul political crew in a ferment of caballing and mischief. Any gang of politicos is like the eighth circle of Hell, but the American breed is specially awful because they take it seriously and believe it matters; wherever you went, to dinner or an excursion or to pay a call, or even take a stroll, you were deafened with their infernal prosing � I daren�t go to the privy without making sure some seedy heeler wasn�t lying in wait to get me to join a caucus. For being British didn�t help � they would just check an instant, beady eyes uncertain, and then demand to know what London would think of Hayes or Tilden, and how was the Turkish crisis going? (This at a time when Grace was making triple centuries in England, and I not there.)

We met Grant, though, and a portentous encounter it proved. It was at some dinner given by a Senator, and Burden, the military attach� from our Embassy, whom I knew slightly, was there. Grant was the same burly, surly bargee I remembered, more like a city storekeeper than the first-rate soldier he�d been and the disillusioned President he was. He looked dead tired, but the glances he shot from under those knit brows were still sharp; he gave a wary start at sight of me � it�s remarkable how many people do � and then asked guardedly how I did. I truckled in my manly way, while he watched me as though he thought I was there to pinch the silver.

�You look pretty well,� says he grudgingly, and I told him so did he.

�No I don�t,� he snapped. �No man could look well who has endured the Presidency.�

Yeah, it'll do that.

quote:

I said something soothing about the cares of state. �Not a bit of it,� barks he. �It�s this infernal hand-shaking. Do you realise how frequently the office demands that the incumbent�s fingers shall be mauled and his arm jerked from its socket? No human constitution can stand it, I tell you! Pump-pump-pump, it�s all they damned well do. Ought to be abolished.� Still happy old Sam, I could see. He growled and asked cautiously if I was staying long, and when I told him of our projected trip across the Plains he chewed his beard moodily and said I was lucky, at least the damned Indians didn�t shake hands.

Our appetites sharpened by these brilliant exchanges, we went in to dinner, which was foul, what with their political gas and heavy food. Between them they must have numbed my brain, and by damnable chance it was before the ladies had withdrawn that a Senator of unusual stupidity and flatulence, called Allison, happened to mention his impending departure for the West, whither he was bound with a government commission to treat with the Indians about the Black Hills. I didn�t pay much heed, until a phrase he used touched a chord in my memory, and I made an unguarded remark � my only excuse is that I was trying to escape the egregious stream of chatter from the Congressional harpy seated next to me.

�I make no doubt that our negotiations will have reached a fruitful conclusion by October, Mr President,� Allison was saying ponderously, �and that we shall be enabled to proceed to formal treaty no later than November � or, as I believe our Indian friends so picturesquely describe it, �The Moon When the Horns are Broken Off�.� He chuckled facetiously, and as my neighbour drew breath for another spate of drivel, I hastily addressed Allison without thinking.

�That�s correct only if you�re talking to a Santee Sioux, Senator,� says I, and I swear for once I wasn�t trying to be smart. �If he happens to be a Teton Sioux, then �The Moon When the Horns are Broken Off� is December.�

Oh Flash, you do it to yourself.

quote:

One of those remarks, I agree, which will stop any conversation in its tracks. Allison stared, and a silence fell, broken by Grant�s rasping question. �What�s that, Flashman? Do you happen to be an authority on the Indian calendar?�

Before I could turn the question, the prattling dunder-head I married was interposing brightly. �Oh, but Harry knows ever so much about Red Indians, Mr President! He travelled extensively among them in his youth, you know, and became thoroughly acquainted with many of their prominent men. Why, only lately, in Chicago, we met a most unusual person, a chief among the Stews, wasn�t he Harry? � anyway, a most imposing figure, although quite unpredictable, a Mr Spotted Tail, and what do you think? He and Harry proved to be old friends from the past, and it was the most amusing thing to hear them conversing at dinner in those outlandish sounds, and moving their hands in those graceful signs � oh, Harry, do show them!� How I�ve kept my hands from her throat for seventy years, God knows.

�Spotted Tail?� says Allison. �Why, that�s a singular thing � of course, he recently returned from Washington. I take it to be the same man � the leader of the Brul� Siouxes? Well, he is to be a principal spokesman for the Indians at our conference.�

�You speak Siouxan?� says Grant to me, quite sharp.

�My husband speaks many languages,� says Elspeth proudly, smiling at me. �Don�t you, my love? Why, it can make me quite dizzy to hear him��

�I never knew you�d been out West,� says Grant, frowning. �How did you come to know Spotted Tail?�

There was nothing for it but to tell him, as briefly as I could, and for once I didn�t make a modest-brag about it; I could have kicked Elspeth�s dainty backside, for I suspected no good would come of this. They were all attention � you don�t meet many dinner guests, I suppose, who�ve commanded a wagon-train and learned the lingo from Wootton and Carson, and they probably didn�t believe half of it.

�Quite remarkable,� says Grant. �You don�t happen to know Spotted Tail�s nephew � Chief Crazy Horse?�

Any damage had been done by now, so I couldn�t resist the temptation of saying that I�d put him on his first pony. (That I�m sure they disbelieved. Odd, ain�t it?) I added that since he�d been only six years old I could hardly claim to know him well. Grant only grunted, and no more was said until the women had taken themselves off and the cigars were going. Then:

�You said you and Lady Flashman were going West, didn�t you?�

�Purely for pleasure,� says I.

�Uh-huh.� He chewed his cigar a moment. �I doubt if anyone on Senator Allison�s commission knows Spotted Tail all that well. I�ve met him a few times � shrewd fellow. Terry�s your military representative, isn�t he?� he asked Allison. �He doesn�t know Indians at close quarters, exactly � and I�m positive he doesn�t speak Siouxan.� He studied me in a damned disconcerting way. �You wouldn�t care to lend Allison your assistance, I suppose? It wouldn�t take you much out of your way.�

�Mr President,� says I hurriedly, �I�m hardly an authority on the Indian question, and since I�m not an American citizen��

�I�m not suggesting you serve on the commission,� growls he. �But I know something about your gifts of persuasion and negotiation, don�t I? � and if Allison�s going to get anywhere in this infernal business, it�s going to take a power of informal and delicate dealing. He�ll need all the help he can get, and while he�ll have no lack of expert counsel, it can�t hurt to have the added assistance of a soldier of rank and diplomatic experience�� sardonic little bastard! ��who not only knows Indians, especially Spotted Tail himself, but can also understand what the other side is saying before the interpreters frazzle it up. You concur, Senator?�

�Why, indeed, Mr President,� says Allison gravely. �I�m persuaded that Colonel Flashman�s ah � unusual qualifications would be � ah, invaluable.� I guessed he didn�t care much for it. �If he can be prevailed upon, that is, to assist informally ��

�I�m sure he can,� says Grant firmly. �As to being a British citizen, it�s nothing to the point,� he went on to me. �It didn�t matter in the war, did it? Besides, I�m sure Burden here will agree,� and he nodded to our Embassy wallah, �that an Indian solution is almost as much in England�s interest as in ours. The Sioux could be a damned nuisance in Canada � they don�t respect national boundaries, those fellows � so I don�t doubt Her Majesty would be happy to lend us your friendly assistance.�

Burden didn�t hesitate, rot him. �I think I can say that we should welcome the opportunity of having Sir Harry Flashman accompany the commission as an observer, Mr President,� says he carefully. �As you point out, our respective interests converge in this matter.�

�I�m glad to hear you say so,� says Grant. �Well, Flashman?�

That was Grant all over. It was a tiny thing; my presence could hardly weigh in the balance � but Sam as a commander had never neglected the least possible advantage, and even one more voice in Spotted Tail�s ear might conceivably help. I didn�t know then, I confess, just how damned important Spotted Tail was. Grant was looking at me, lighting another cigar.

�What d�you say? No Medal of Honour in it this time, I�m afraid, but I�d esteem it a personal favour.�

I knew who else would, too � I could hear her in the distant drawing-room, regaling the other ladies with �Caller Herrin�� at the piano. Let me decline � and how the devil could I refuse Grant a personal favour? � and I�d never hear the end of it. What, deny her the chance to languish at �Mr Spotted Tail�? Well, perhaps when she saw him in his �natural surroundings� she�d be less enthusiastic for noble savages. Aye, perhaps. I�d watch the red bastard like a hawk.

�Happy to be of service, Mr President,� says I.

And away they goooo. I thought I remembered a very different interatction between Grant and Flash in this book but it turns out that's from #11. We'll, off to it... next time!

# ? Jul 11, 2022 23:25

withak: Jan 15, 2003; Fun Shoe

I am always sad that we will never get to read about what Flashman got up to during the Civil War. I think all we know is that he fought for both sides, and was liked by both Lee and Grant.

# ? Jul 11, 2022 23:46

Trin Tragula: Apr 22, 2005

Cricket: Slight Return

quote:

(This at a time when Grace was making triple centuries in England, and I not there.)

Dr W.G. Grace was often reckoned the greatest cricketer of all time until Bradman came along a couple of generations later, and one of the few men whose image transcends the sport. Primarily a batter who was still useful with the ball, he was a comic-book figure come to life, with a hefty frame and massive beard. He played in 44 straight first-class seasons, and was particularly renowned for his undying commitment to bending the rules without actually cheating (one possibly-apocryphal story tells of how he reacted to being given out LBW by telling the offending umpire that the suitably large crowd had come to watch him bat, not the umpire give him out), and his thoroughly shameless ability to make vast sums of money for playing cricket while also claiming to be an amateur. Flashy would surely have been a big fan, in a jealous way.

A century is when a single batter makes 100 runs in the same innings. In the modern game it's still a noteworthy achievement but top batters are expected to make them; in Grace's time they were relatively rare and cause for great celebration. Playing in an era when pitches were far worse and batting far harder, he was the first player to make a century of first-class centuries in his career (the exact figure is disputed by historians; the most common total has him 10th out of 23 to reach that mark). In August 1876 he made 344 for MCC against Kent, the first batter to score a first-class triple century, and then two weeks later he did it again with 318 not out for Gloucestershire against Yorkshire. 344 stood as the individual record until 1895, and it has only been beaten six times after that.

# ? Jul 13, 2022 01:26

Genghis Cohen: Jun 29, 2013

withak posted:

I am always sad that we will never get to read about what Flashman got up to during the Civil War. I think all we know is that he fought for both sides, and was liked by both Lee and Grant.

Seriously. One of the great unwritten books in my awareness.

Also would have been almost as ripe for Arbite's commentary as Flash for Freedom!

# ? Jul 13, 2022 23:45

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

As it turned out, I wasn�t � of service, I mean � but I take no blame for that. Solomon himself couldn�t have saved the Camp Robinson discussions with the Sioux from being a fiasco, not unless he�d gagged Allison to begin with. There is some natural law that ensures that whenever civilisation talks to the heathen, it is through the person of the most obstinate, short-sighted, arrogant, tactless clown available. You recall McNaghten at Kabul, perhaps? Well, Allison could have been his prize pupil.

To his blinkered eyes the problem looked simple enough. Despite General Crook�s efforts (and having heard him in Chicago I didn�t imagine they�d been too strenuous) white miners had continued to pour into the Black Hills that summer; gold camps like Custer City already had populations of thousands, and more arriving daily. The Sioux, rightly viewing this as a shameless violation of their treaty, were getting angrier and uglier by the minute. So, faced on one hand by a possible Sioux rising, and on the other by the fait accompli of the mining camps, Washington reached the conclusion you�d expect: treaty or no, the Sioux would have to give way. Allison�s task was to persuade them to surrender the hills in return for compensation, and that, to him, meant fixing a price and telling �em to take it or leave it. He didn�t doubt they would take it; after all, he was a Senator, and they were a parcel of silly savages who couldn�t read and write; he would lecture them, and they would be astonished at his eloquence, pocket the cash without argument, and go away. It didn�t seem to weigh with him that to the Sioux the Black Hills were rather like Mecca to the Muslims, or that having no comprehension of land ownership, the idea of selling them was as ludicrous as selling the wind or the sky. Nor did he suspect that, even if their religious and philosophic scruples could be overcome, their notions of price and value had developed since the days of beads and looking-glasses.

Camp Robinson, where he was to meet the Sioux chiefs, was a fairly new military post out beyond the settlements, not far south of the Black Hills; close by it was the Red Cloud Agency where the old Oglala chief lived with his followers, and a day�s march away was Camp Sheridan, near the agency of Spotted Tail and his Brul�s. These were the �peaceful� Sioux, who had come in to the agencies in return for annuities and other government benefits such as rations, clothes, weapons and schools; it was the fond hope that eventually they�d take to farming. Since they were well-behaved and powerful chiefs, the government chose to regard them as spokesmen for the whole Sioux nation, conveniently forgetting that most of the tribes were roaming wild in the Powder River country farther west, under the likes of Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, �but if they are so intractable and foolish as not to meet us, on their own heads be it,� says Allison smugly. �We can talk only to those who will talk to us, and if the hostiles will not share our deliberations, they cannot complain if the treaty is not to their satisfaction. We can only reach it and trust that reason will prevail with them after the event.� An optimist, you see.

This loving guy.

quote:

Even before we set out, the omens were bad. The peaceful agency tribes were fractious because in the hard winter just past they�d been kept short of the necessaries government should have been providing � one of the reasons Spotted Tail had been east in June was to complain. In his absence his younger braves had worked themselves into a frenzy at the annual sun dance and gone off for a slap at the Black Hills miners (and at their old foes the Pawnees, just for devilment); there had been a nasty brush between the Brul�s and Custer�s 7th Cavalry, and when Spotted Tail returned it had taken all his influence and skill to bring his bucks to heel.

To show willing, Washington had held an inquiry on the agencies, and found the Indians� complaints well grounded; they�d been swindled and deprived, but in spite of the findings no official or contractor was punished, although the agent at Red Cloud had been removed. So you can judge how content the agency Sioux were by the time our commission rolled out by rail and coach to Camp Robinson late that summer, Allison full of pomp and consequence, deep in discussions with his fellow-commissioners, while I lent an unofficial ear, and Elspeth in the hotel car cried out with excitement every time we passed a creek or a tree.

She got something to marvel at, though, on the last stage into Camp Robinson. It�s far out on the prairie, nestling among pretty groves beneath a range of buttes, and in all directions the grassy plain was covered with Indian villages as far as you could see; every Sioux in America seemed to have converged on the fort, and as our coach lurched by with its escort of cavalry outriders, Elspeth was all eyes and ears while Collins, the secretary to the commission, pointed out the various tribes � Brul�, Sans Arc, Oglala, Minneconju, Hunk-papa, and the rest. Mostly they just stared as we went by, silent figures in their blankets by the tipis and smoky fires, but once a party of Cheyenne Dog Soldiers rode alongside us, and Elspeth fairly clapped her hands and squeaked to see them cantering so stately, stalwart warriors in braids and full paint, shaking their lances in salute and chanting: �How! Hi-yik-yik! How!�

�Oh, brave!� cries she ecstatically. �How! How to you! Oh, Harry, how proud and splendid they look! Why, I declare they are so many Hiawathas! Ah, but how solemn they all look! I never saw so many melancholy faces � are they always so sad, Mr Collins?�

I wasn�t feeling too brisk myself; I�d supposed we�d be meeting the chiefs and a few supporters, but there were thousands of Sioux here if there was one, and that�s a sight too many.

�It takes three-quarters of the male population to make any agreement binding,� Collins told me, �so the more who attend the better. It�s what Red Cloud and Spotted Tail say that counts, of course, but we must have the democratic consent of the people, too.�

�Is Allison intending to canvass that multitude?� says I, incredulous. �Dear God, does he know how long it takes an Indian to decide to get up in the morning?�

Racism by ignorance meets racism by familiarity.

quote:

The fort itself was a fairly spartan affair of wooden houses and barracks, but Anson Mills, the commandant from Camp Sheridan, was on hand with his wife to make us welcome, and Elspeth was far too excited to mind the absence of city comforts.

The Mills gave a dinner of welcome that night, to which they had invited the chiefs for an informal foregathering; to my surprise Elspeth dressed in her plainest gown, without jewellery and her hair severely bunned, explaining to me that it would never do for her to outshine Mrs Mills, the hostess, �and anyway, I know you are sensible of our position, my dear, for we are not official here, and it does not do for us to put ourselves forward�. This was uncommon sense for her; she knew that I was really a camp-follower of the commission whom they might find useful, but I�d borne no part beyond listening to some of their discussions, answering a question or two from Allison, and talking a bit of shop with General Terry, the military representative. He was a tall, sprightly, courteous fellow who�d been a lawyer (Yale man, apparently) before the Civil War turned him into a soldier; I found him quick and a good deal more open-minded than most Yankee military chiefs. The other leading lights of the commission were Collins and a clergyman.

The chiefs came to dinner in style, six of them all in buckskins and feathers, led by the famous Oglala, Red Cloud, a grim savage with a face you could have used to split kindling. Other names I remember were Standing Elk and White Thunder, and towering over the rest, splendid in snowy tunic and single eagle feather, the well-known Tableaux-fancier and patron of Loop burlesque theatres. His black eyes widened momentarily at sight of me; then he was bowing and growling to Elspeth, who gave him a limp hand and her coolest smile, which alarmed me more than if she�d languished at him.

The dinner was a frost. From the first it was evident that the chiefs were thoroughly disgruntled, and at odds among themselves; I was seated between Red Cloud and Standing Elk, so that advantage could be taken of my linguistic genius; Red Cloud gave me one suspicious glare, and replied in monosyllables to the amiabilities and polite inquiries which Allison and the others addressed to him through me. You could feel the suspicion and hostility coming from them like a fog, and by the time desserts were served it was like being at a Welsh funeral. The chiefs were silent, Allison was aloof and huffy and the clergyman distressed, Mills was trying to look bland, and his wife, poor soul, was in a fearsome flutter, her hand shaking on the cloth in embarrassment. For once I thanked God for Elspeth�s artless prattle, directed ceaselessly at everyone in turn, and never taking silence for an answer. But only from Spotted Tail among the Indians did she get any response, and even that was formal courtesy; his mind was too busy elsewhere even for flirting.

All the gloom didn�t prevent our guests from punishing the victuals like starving wolves, I may say; Red Cloud�s longest conversational flight was to remark that they were a sight better than the rubbish his people had been getting from the agency, which I translated to Mrs Mills as a compliment to the cook. And when we rose, White Thunder, who�d been even more voracious than the rest, went round the table scraping the contents of every plate into a bag; he was even lifting some of the spoons until Spotted Tail growled something at him which I didn�t catch. As they took their departure the Brul� chief seemed to stare particularly at me, so once they were out, and Allison was exploding in pique at what he called �their cross-grained and sullen demeanour, upon my word, like the spoiled children they are!�, I took a slow saunter out to the verandah. Sure enough, there was Spotted Tail, a huge pale figure in the summer dusk; his fellow-chiefs were already down on the parade, studiously looking the other way while the grooms brought their ponies. He didn�t beat about.

�Why are you sitting with the Isantanka, Wind Breaker? What is this matter to do with the Wasetchuska Mother?�

What indeed. Well, we shall learn more... next time!

# ? Jul 14, 2022 06:53

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

�Nothing,� says I. �I�m here because I know you and speak your tongue.�

�They think I will listen to you? That you will grease their words so that I and my brothers will swallow them easily?� He wasn�t the genial companion of Chicago now; his tone was on the brink of anger. I answered matter-of-fact.

�They think that because I�m a soldier chief in my own country, I can help to open their minds fairly to you. And because I know something of you and your folk, I can open your minds fairly to them. I understand high matters, which an ordinary interpreter might not, and I will speak for both sides with a straight tongue.� He must know how much that mattered, and how many bitter misunderstandings had arisen through incompetent interpreters.

He watched me slantendicular and then put back his head. �Wah-ah. Bes! Then tell them this for a beginning. Since I came from Washington I have been in the Black Hills. There is much gold there, and now I have seen it. So we will not give up the hills, and we will not allow them to be taken from us.�

Well, that was damned blunt, before the talks had even started. No courteous preliminaries or hints or soundings; he�d never have said anything so flat to the commission, but he could drop it in my ear as an intermediary. It flitted across my mind � had wily Sam Grant foreseen something like this? Presumably it was what I was here for, and I felt a gratifying tingle at being on the inside of affairs (there�s an oily politician in the best of us, you see) and at the same time an apprehension as I realised that whatever I said might weigh heavy in the scale. God, what a chance for mischief! But I didn�t indulge it; I gave back bluntness for bluntness, because it seemed best.

�The hills have been taken from you already, haven�t they?� says I. �You�ve seen how many miners are up there. And you�ve said yourself that the lance and hatchet of Spotted Tail can�t stop them.�

I saw him stiffen, and then he says quietly: �There are other lances.�

�Whose? Sitting Bull�s? My little horseman�s � Crazy Horse? That won�t answer, and you know it. Look here, Sintay Galeska, this is nothing to me,� says I, and it was true. For once in my life I had no axe to grind; I didn�t give a blue light who had the Black Hills, since there was nothing in it for me either way. Tell you the truth I was feeling a most unaccustomed thing, a glow of virtue, as well as the pleasure of observing a drama in which I had no personal stake. I didn�t have to be patient of diplomatic niceties. If Allison had known what I was about to say, he�d have had apoplexy; for that matter I don�t suppose Red Cloud and his boys would have cared for it either. But when all the pussy-footing and lying and hypocrisy don�t matter to you, you can go straight to business and enjoy yourself.

Flashman at ease and not being a malicious rear end. Stange days.

quote:

�These talks are a sham,� I continued, �and you know it. The Black Hills are gone, and you�ll never get �em back. This lot won�t leave you a rag to your back if you resist them. So isn�t it time to get the best bargain you can? And make those mad bastards up in Powder River country understand that they�d better settle for it, or they�ll get worse? I�m not saying it�s right or fair; that don�t count. I�m just saying it�s common sense. And you know it, too.�

If it was straighter talk than he cared for, he still couldn�t deny it or say I spoke with a double tongue. He knew it was true.

�They�ll pay, you know,� says I. �How much, I can�t tell you. Certainly not what the hills are worth in gold value � but then you wouldn�t expect �em to, would you? No, you�ll just have��

�Ho-ho!� It came out in a bark, the warning-note of the Sioux when he�s heard something he doesn�t like. But his voice was quiet enough when he said: �You speak for the Isantanka; they seek to put fear into our hearts, so that we will be cowed into taking whatever they offer��

�Look,� says I, �if I was speaking for them, would I have admitted that they won�t pay what the hills are worth? No; I�d have told you the price they�ll offer is a fair one. I�m telling you the truth because I know you see it as clear as I do. Of course they�ll cheat you; they always have. Don�t you see � the Sioux aren�t going to win, either in a bargain or in a fight? So you must get as much as you can, while you can. Don�t let these talks fail; get the best price you can squeeze out of them, and try to get Sitting Bull and the other hostiles to like it. If you don�t, you�ll wind up poor or dead.�

He studied me poker-faced, stroking one of his long braids, and I wondered if he was hating me and all that he thought I stood for � hating me all the more, perhaps, because I knew as well as he did the bitter truth he was facing, that he must twist the Yankee purse to the last dollar for his people�s sake, and that at the same time he would be betraying them and the ideals they held sacred. It�s a damnable thing, the pride of a nation, especially when it�s coupled with the kind of mystic frenzy that they had about their precious Black Hills. Or pretended they had. At last he says:

�Will you tell the Isantanka all that has passed between you and me here?�

�If you want me to,� says I. �But I think it better I should tell them that Chief Spotted Tail is worried because his fellow-chiefs don�t want to sell the hills. I�ll tell them they would be best advised to offer a good price, and to take into account what it would cost in white blood and white money if the Sioux were pushed into fighting because the price isn�t high enough.�

�What price,� says he, �do you think would satisfy the Sioux?�

�I don�t know, and I don�t care, and I won�t try to guess. That�s for you to decide. But I�d want it in gold, on the barrel-head, and I wouldn�t budge an inch for anything less. I wouldn�t hand over my guns, that�s certain.�

Flash has always been presented as clear sighted but is rarely able to share his views without some consideration to his position relative his audience.

quote:

It was then, I think, that he began to believe if not necessarily to trust me. As why shouldn�t he, since I�d been telling truth straighter than I could ever remember? At any rate, he finally nodded, and said he would wait and see what was said publicly tomorrow. Almost as an afterthought, as he was about to go, he says conversationally:

�Why did your golden lady hide her beauty tonight? She wore no shining stones, and her milk-white flesh she covered in poor cloth. Have you been beating her, that she hides the bruises, or is she displeased and withdraws the loveliness that gives such joy to men?�

I explained, pretty cool, that she had left her fine dresses back east, as being unsuitable for the frontier, and he gave one of his astonishing rumbles, like a bull in a brothel. �Then my heart is sad,� growls he, �for the more one sees of her the better. My heart sings when I look on her. She shines. I would like to see all of her shining! Yun! I would like to �� and to my rage and scandal he absolutely said it, smacking his lips, and me her husband, too. Mind you, I suppose it was meant as a compliment. �Joll-ee good! Han, hopa! Joll-ee good!� And he stalked off, leaving me dumbfounded.

The commission were all attention when I reported what he�d said (about the Black Hills, I mean); my own side of the conversation I kept to myself. I said I believed he was ready to settle, if the bargain could be made to look respectable; he could probably sway Red Cloud, and between them they could surely convince three-quarters of the Indians who had come to listen. That would still leave the absent hostiles, but if the offer was good enough even they might find it hard to hold out.

Terry and Collins looked pleased, but the clerical wallah made a lip. �However generous the offer, we are asking them to surrender land which they esteem holy. And while we may justly abhor their superstitious frenzy, I ask myself if they will abjure it for � well, pieces of silver.� He blinked earnestly and Allison gave a patronising smile.

�With all respect, reverend, I�m not aware that their so-called religious fervour has any real spiritual depth. Their mode of life hardly suggests it, and I am not convinced that their concern for the Black Hills would be quite so great if there were no gold there. No, gentlemen,� says he complacently, �I�ve no doubt the Colonel is right, and that they will sell, and as to the price, we shall have to see. A savage whose notions of time and space are so peculiar that he cannot comprehend that a day�s journey on the railroad carries him farther than a day�s journey by pony, may have an equally eccentric view of real estate values. Pro pelle cutem I�m sure they understand: a skin for the worth of a skin, but whether they encompass the higher finance we shall discover.�

Pro pelle cutem is the motto of the Hudson's Bay Company, which had been operating for over two centuries at this point. Being better than the Americans at treating the native population is not an acceptable bar to clear. Well, more exploitation to come... next time!

# ? Jul 19, 2022 03:03

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

He did, too, the following day, when Spotted Tail got up in full council and blandly announced the price of the Black Hills: forty million dollars. I didn�t believe my ears, and watched with interest as I translated, for it�s not every day that you see a senatorial commission kicked in its collective belly. D�you know, they never blinked � and my suspicious hackles rose on the spot. There was a deal of huffing and consideration before Allison replied at judicious length, but all his palaver couldn�t conceal his point, which was that the government were prepared to offer only six million, and over several years at that. There was much nonsense about renting and leasing, in which Spotted Tail showed politely satirical interest, but now that he�d seen the dismal colour of their money it was so much waste of time; he concluded that they had best put it in writing, and stalked out. Red Cloud, by the way, hadn�t bothered to attend.

Allison wasn�t disturbed; let him conduct matters privately with the chiefs, and they�d see reason, all right. For the life of me I�m not sure whether he believed it or not, but it was nothing to me, and while they all caballed for the next few days I indulged Elspeth by squiring her round the Indian encampments. Since sightseeing is to her what liquor is to a drunkard, she didn�t seem to notice the stink and squalor, but exclaimed at the variety and colour of the barbaric scene, took a heroic interest in the domestic arrangements, waxed sentimental at the docile resignation of the squaws pounding corn and cooking their abominable messes, became quite excited at the sight of the young bucks playing lacrosse, and went into ecstasies over �the bonny wee papooses�. For their part, the Sioux took an equal interest in her, and a curious procession we made as we strolled back to camp arm-in-arm with a gaggle of curious squaws and loafers and children at our heels, and one impudent urchin insisting on carrying Elspeth�s parasol.

One day we spent at Camp Sheridan, driving across at Spotted Tail�s invitation; he sent Standing Bear, the young brave we�d met in Chicago, to escort us, and I noted with a jaundiced eye that here was another gallant from the same school as his chief. Not only was he as handsome a redskin as ever I saw, three inches over six feet and built like an acrobat, his attentions to Elspeth were of the most courtly, and I knew from the way he held himself as he rode alongside that he fancied himself most damnably, all noble profile and grave immobility.

Allison seems to be reminding him of Bismarck whose refusal to budge on the amount of money offered helped convince Flash that the business in Strackense might not end with him dead.

quote:

Spotted Tail welcomed us outside the fine frame house which the army had set aside for his use at Camp Sheridan, but after showing us round its empty rooms with a proprietorial pride, he explained gravely that he didn�t live here, but in a tipi close by. The advantage of this was that when the tipi got foul he could move it to a clean stretch of ground some yards away (like the Mad Hatter at the tea-party), a thing he could hardly have done with a two-storey house. What, clean the floors? He shook his head; his squaws wouldn�t know how.

To Elspeth�s delight he invited us to sit by him at his levee, where he heard complaints, settled disputes, and dispensed hospitality out of the extra rations the agency allowed him for the purpose. When we dined, though, it was on the traditional Plains Indians fricassee from the communal pot; Elspeth picked away, smiling gamely, and I hadn�t the heart to tell her it was mostly boiled dog. She didn�t flirt with him more than outrageous, and he was on his best dignified behaviour. When I asked him how the treaty talks were going, he simply shrugged, and I wondered was he preparing to concede and look pleasant.

Yes, says Allison when I tackled him later, it was all as good as settled. He was preparing the commission�s formal offer, to be delivered before the assembled tribes, and he had every confidence that Red Cloud and Spotted Tail would accept it, six million and all. Well, thinks I, I�ll believe it when I hear it.

Somehow this seems even more pig-headed then the when the British was punting own goal after own goal in the leadup to the mutiny.

quote:

Sure enough, it was on the morning of the assembly that we got the first whiff of mischief. At Red Cloud�s request the meeting was to take place out on the open prairie, some miles from the fort, where the Indian thousands could congregate conveniently, and we had already piled into the ambulance, with Anson Mills�s two cavalry troops flank and rear, and Elspeth and Mrs Mills waving from the verandah, when there was a shout from across the parade, and here came a party of mounted Indians, armed and in full paint, cantering two and two and led by a stalwart Oglala, Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses, whom I�d seen in Red Cloud�s entourage. As he rode up to Anson Mills, I noticed young Standing Bear in war-bonnet and leggings, with lance and carbine, at the head of one of the lines; I beckoned him to the tailboard and asked him what was up.

�How,� says he. �Chief Sintay Galeska sends word that you and the Isantanka chiefs should stay in the soldiers� camp today.�

�What�s that? But we have to go out to the meeting.�

�He thinks it better you should talk here than there.�

I didn�t like the sound of this, and neither did the others when I told them. We asked why, and Standing Bear shook his handsome head and said it was the chief�s advice, that was all; he added that if we insisted on going, he and Young-Man-Afraid had been ordered to ride with the cavalry as an additional escort.

That was enough for me. Didn�t I remember riding out from the cantonments on just such an occasion to parley with Akbar Khan? I said as much to Terry, who agreed it was disquieting, the perceptive chap. �But we cannot stay in camp,� says he. �Why, we should lose face.�

I observed that it might be preferable to losing our hair, but he pooh-poohed that, and Allison, after some waffling, backed him up. �It is a strange message, to be sure,� says he doubtfully, �but if Chief Spotted Tail were uneasy I am persuaded he would have come himself. In any event, not to keep the meeting would show a lack of faith which would be fatal to our whole negotiation. No, we must go � why, what harm can come to a government commission?�

I could have told him and added that he could go without Flashy, for one. But it wouldn�t have done, in front of Yankees, and with Elspeth watching, so I kept uneasily mum, and presently we were jolting out of camp, with the fat clergyman beside me sweating and twitching; I noticed Collins�s hand stray under his jacket, and wished I�d thought to come heeled myself.

My nerves were not steadied by the sight that greeted us at the little grove which was the meeting place. Every Sioux in the world seemed to be there; beyond the tarpaulin canopy where we were to sit they squatted in row on endless row, brown painted faces grim and unmoving, warbonnets and eagle feathers stirring in the breeze; every knoll and slope for a quarter of a mile was covered with them. The whole vast concourse was deathly silent; there wasn�t a cough or grunt, let alone a welcoming �How!� from all those thousands; as we took our seats the only sounds were the flapping of the canopy overhead, the stamp and jingle of Mills�s troopers, and the nervous rumblings of one set of bowels at least.

Mills ranged his troopers in line either side of our seats, while Young-Man-Afraid and Standing Bear sat their ponies out to the left, their mounted braves behind them, facing the great mass of waiting Sioux; I noticed Standing Bear make a little sign to Spotted Tail, who was seated with Red Cloud and the other chiefs in the front rank of our audience. Spotted Tail caught my eye and nodded, presumably in reassurance, which I needed, rather; sitting on my ridiculous camp-stool on the flank of the commission, looking at that mob, reminded me of being in the platform party on Speech Day when you�ve forgotten your address about Duty and Playing the Game, and the audience are already starting to snigger and pick their noses. Only this crowd weren�t sniggering.

I wonder how precisely one can date the government of the United States' opinion on the greater indigenous population shifting from 'great potential threat best handled with care' to 'nuisance that can be easily handled at some expense.' Anyway, we'll see what comes of this speech... next time!

# ? Jul 23, 2022 05:42

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

Allison got to his feet and cleared his throat, shooting nervous glances at the silent red assembly twenty yards off, and at that moment I noticed movement on the outer wings of the crowd. Mounted warriors were cantering in towards us, either side; they swept wide to outflank the canopy, and trotted in behind Mills�s two lines of troopers. I screwed round to watch, my hair on end, as the two long files of painted braves, lances and guns at the ready, took station behind our cavalry � by God, they were marking �em, man for man! Ten feet behind each trooper there was now a mounted Sioux, and there was no doubting the menacing significance of that. Allison stammered over the first few words of his address, and ploughed on, and I was preparing to translate aloud when a harsh voice cut in before me � a half-breed among the Indians was translating. So they�d brought their own interpreter with them; that might be significant, too.

There was a flurry of hooves to the left; Young-Man-Afraid and Standing Bear were moving their riders � in behind the lines of Sioux who were marking our troopers, so that they in turn were covered man for man! It was like some huge game of human chess, and damned unnerving if you were in the middle of the board; now there were three lines of silent horsemen either side of us, and the Sioux riders were neatly sandwiched in the middle; they didn�t like it, and turned muttering in their saddles. Standing Bear grinned and made a derisive gesture at them, and then edged his pony close to where I was sitting. I felt a sudden warm surge of relief; with that hawk profile and lance at rest against his muscular arm, he looked a confident likely lad to have at your elbow. Terry, beside me, glanced round coolly at the troopers and the Indians and whispered: �Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?�q John Charity Spring would have been all for him.

Allison was in full spate now, and my fears returned as I realised that what he was saying wasn�t even tactful, let alone conciliatory. Instead of arguing persuasively that white occupation of the Black Hills would really be in the Sioux�s interest, since they could make a thumping profit out of it, or something of that sort, he was taking a most minatory line, like Arnold lecturing the fags. The government must control the hills, and that was that; compensation would be paid, and if it became necessary to occupy more land in the Powder River country, a price would be settled for that too. I listened appalled; if the fool had wanted to put their backs up, he couldn�t have done it better � and not for the first time the suspicion crossed my mind: were they trying to provoke the Indians, to ensure that no treaty was reached, so that they�d have an excuse for disciplining �em once for all? If so, he�d picked a bloody clever time to light the train, hadn�t he, with several thousand Sioux getting shorter-tempered by the minute? For they were stirring now, and angry grunts and shouts of �Ho-ho!� were coming from around the arena; Allison raised his voice stubbornly, I heard the figure of six million mentioned again, and then he turned and plumped down in his seat, red-faced with oratory and determination.

Two books from now we'll see even more explicit sabotage of one's own responsibility. This whole business isn't even mentioned on Allison's wikipedia article.

quote:

One thing was clear: he hadn�t made it any easier for Red Cloud and Spotted Tail to accept with dignity. Red Cloud was getting to his feet, his face a grim mask; as he raised a hand to the assembly and faced the commission, silence fell again; he pushed back the trailing gorgeous wings of his war-bonnet and fixed us with his gleaming black eyes.

No one will ever know what he was going to say, for at that moment there was an outcry from the back of the crowd, and it was like some huge brown page turning as every head went round to look. There was a thunder of hooves in the distance, and through a gap in the low hills to the right came pouring a bright cavalcade of Indians, armed riders who whooped and yikked as they galloped towards us; the whole assembly was on its feet shouting, as they swept up to the clear space on our right flank, a surging, feathered horde two hundred strong, milling and waving their clubs and lances while one of their number trotted his pony forward in front of the commission.

He was a sight to take the eye even in that wild gathering, a lithe, brilliant figure who carried himself like an emperor. He was naked except for a short war-bonnet and breechclout, his face and chest glistening with ochre and vermilion, at his waist were strapped two long-barrelled Colts, a stone axe hung from his decorated saddle-blanket, and he carried a feathered lance. Standing Bear stirred and grunted as I looked anxious inquiry.

�Little Big Man,� says he. �The right arm of Tashunka Witko Crazy Horse,� and I began to sweat in earnest. These must be Oglala Bad Faces, the wildest of the wild bands from the Powder. The hostiles had come to the council at last.

I gabbled it in a whisper to Terry and Allison; the stout cleric goggled and Collins�s hand twitched again at his lapel. We waited breathless while Little Big Man checked his pony close by Red Cloud; he looked all round the assembly and then deliberately wheeled his pony so that his back was to us. I can still see that slim painted body and feathered head, the lance upraised; then he hurled it quivering into the turf at Red Cloud�s feet and his voice rang out:

�I will kill the first Lacotah chief who talks of selling the Black Hills!�

There was uproar, and I had to shout my translation in Terry�s ear. Mills was barking to his troopers to hold their line, but Young-Man-Afraid and half a dozen of his braves were round Little Big Man in a second, hustling him back towards his fellows, all yelling at once; the assembly were in tumult, but they weren�t breaking ranks, thank God; Spotted Tail was on his feet, arms raised, bellowing for order. Standing Bear tugged at my sleeve, and as I turned to follow his pointing finger I swore in amazement.

Behind where we sat was the ambulance, its horses cropping quietly at the grass and its driver standing on his box to watch the confusion � and cantering out of the trees towards the ambulance, a solitary rider, daintily side-saddle, waving her crop gaily as she saw me. I was out from under the canopy like a startled stoat, running towards her in rage and alarm; what the hell was she doing, I shouted, as I grasped her bridle.

Oh for God's sake.

quote:

�Why, I have come to see the great pow-wow!� cries the blonde lunatic. �My, what a splendid sight! What are they calling out for? Oh, see, there is Mr Spotted Tail! But I declare, Harry, I never knew there were so many��

�drat your folly, you should be in the camp, you � you mindless biddy!� I reached up and swung her by main force from the saddle.

�Harry, what are you doing? Oh, be careful � my dress! Whatever are you so agitated for? � and you must not curse in that dreadful way! Gracious me, I have only come to see the sight, and I think it was mean of you not to have brought me anyway � oh, look, look at those ones there with the horns and teeth on their heads � are they not grotesque? And the horsemen yonder � was ever anything so grand? Such colours � oh, I would not have missed it for anything!�

I was almost gibbering as I bundled her into the ambulance. �Get in there and sit still! For God�s sake, woman, don�t you know that this is dangerous? No, I cannot explain � sit there, and wait till I come, blast it! Keep her ladyship there!� I snarled at the startled driver, and ran back, followed by female bleats.

The space before the canopy was alive with jostling, shouting Indians; the vortex was the group round Little Big Man, arguing fiercely; the commission were on their feet, nonplussed, and Mills was whispering urgently to Terry. The great assembly was dissolving, some milling down towards us, others mounting their ponies. I saw weapons brandished as the whooping and yelling grew louder; here was Spotted Tail, his huge buckskinned figure thrusting through the throng as he shouted to Young-Man-Afraid; now he was under the canopy, addressing Mills.

�Put them into the ambulance, now! Away, at once, and make for the camp!�

Allison, mouth open, was about to deliver himself, but Spotted Tail seized his arm and almost ran him to the ambulance, while the troopers closed round us, keeping back the shouting crowd of Sioux riders. There was an undignified scramble into the ambulance, the clergyman dropping his spectacles and Allison his papers; you could feel the panic starting to spread like a wave; oh, Jesus, any minute now and the devils would be breaking loose; it was on a knife-edge � and Standing Bear was pushing me, not towards the ambulance, but to a riderless pony. That suited me: if hell was going to pop, I�d sooner take my chance in the saddle than in a crowded, lumbering wagon that would be the focus for their fury. Christ, Elspeth was in the ambulance!

Yeah, she's not showing her best features at this particular moment. We'll see how this incitement ends... next time!

# ? Jul 24, 2022 03:24

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

One thing Fraser does insanely well is to capture that rising dread as a situation goes from innocuous to cautious to alarming to dangerous to horrific. He plays with doing it at different speeds but for my money he�s best at the slow burn.

# ? Jul 25, 2022 11:51

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

There was nothing to be done about that; with Standing Bear knee to knee I urged my beast up against the canvas cover as the ambulance rolled away. We were surrounded by a phalanx of Mills�s bluecoats, with Young-Man-Afraid and his braves among them. Thank God Mills was cool, and every sabre was in its sheath. All round was a disordered, threatening mob of Indians, yelling taunts, but the ambulance was moving well now, its horses at the trot; it trundled under the trees and out on to the trail to camp, towards the big buttes, and I swallowed my fear and looked about me.

The prairie either side was thick with mounted braves, whooping and singing; I caught some of the words, about how they would make the Powder Country tremble beneath any invader, so that his bowels would loosen with fear; the lightning about the Black Hills would flash and blind him. The more din they made, the better I liked it, for it sounded like drunken exultation; they were seeing the Isantanka chiefs scuttling for safety, and with luck that would content them. But a false move by Mills or his men, an accidental shot on either side, or a spurt of blood-lust in just one of that galloping host, and in a twinkling it would be massacre.

We were running briskly for the camp now, and Mills�s men were in good order around us. Beyond them I watched the Sioux; there was one evil son-of-a-bitch in a horned headdress flourishing a hatchet and proposing that they should kill all the white men and burn their lodges; suddenly he wheeled between the troopers and rode screeching for the ambulance � and I saw one of the coolest, smartest tricks I remember. Standing Bear raced forward to head him off, and I yelped with terror, for I knew if he cut him down the whole mob would pour in on us. But as he came up beside the whooping Sioux, he simply reached out and caught the other�s wrist, laughing.

�D�you want to kill something, great warrior?� he shouted. �Very good, kill away! See that colt yonder � let�s see if you can kill that!�

There was a colt running loose among the riders; the fellow in the homed cap looked at it, rolled his eyes at Standing Bear, and with a great howl galloped away, drawing his pistol, letting fly at the colt. There were excited hoots as others took off after him. Standing Bear shrugged and shook his head as he fell back alongside me; I was cold with sweat, for I knew that only his quick thinking had saved us.

A pity to see bloodlust sated on the innocent, but...

quote:

The Sioux fell away after that, and we rolled on to the camp in safety, Mills sensibly holding one troop behind as rearguard while the other took the ambulance ahead. I stayed with him, since it always looks well to come in with the last detachment, scowling back towards the danger; it was safe enough now, and I knew that Elspeth was all right with the commission. Mills was thorough; he pulled up a mile from camp and we waited an hour while Young-Man-Afraid�s chaps scouted back; they reported that the Sioux were dispersing to their tipis, and Little Big Man�s hostiles had withdrawn. All was quiet after the sudden brief excitement, but I guessed it had been a damned near thing.

I finally rode in with the troop, rehearsing the rebuke I would visit on my half-witted wife. Of all the cake-headed tricks, riding out alone to watch the great pow-wow, indeed! Even she ought to have known that although it had been quiet enough about camp, it was folly for a woman to ride alone in wild country; if the meeting had boiled into real violence it would have been all up with her.

She wasn�t in our quarters, Mrs Mills hadn�t seen her, and I was making for Terry�s billet to inquire when I saw the ambulance driver, a bog Irish private, puffing his cutty by the stables. I hailed him, and he stared like a baffled baboon.

�Her leddyship, sorr? Now, an� Oi hivn�t seen hem nor hair of her since ye putt her in me cart.�

�You mean since you brought her back?�

�Oi didn�t bring her back,� says he, and the icy shock stopped me in my tracks. �Shure an� didn�t she hop out agin to see the show, jest after ye�d sated her down? I thought she was wid yourself, Colonel sorr, or the t�other gintlemen��

�You bloody fool!� I was absolutely swaying. �D�you mean she�s still back yonder?�

He gabbled at me, and then I was running for the stables in such panic as even I have seldom known. She was out there, among that savage, wicked horde � Christ, what might not happen in their present mood? The thoughtless, blind, stupid little � and on my unbelieving ears fell a sound that brought me whirling round with such a flood of relief that I almost cried out.

�Harry! Harry, dearest! Coo-ee!�

She was riding across the parade, touching her pony to hasten it to me, smiling brilliantly and not a thing out of place except her hat, which she had taken off so that her hair blew free about her face. I stood shaking with reaction as she slipped from the saddle and pecked me on the cheek.

Haaah, these two.

quote:

Instinctively I clamped her to me, shuddering.

�Why did you all hurry away so quickly? I thought I had been quite deserted,� cries she laughing, and then opening her eyes wide in mock alarm. �All alone and defenceless among wild Indians! It gave me quite a start, I can tell you!�

�You � you got out of the ambulance � after I told you��

�Well, I should just think so! I wanted to see what was happening. Was it not thrilling? All of them running to and fro, and making those whooping cries and shaking their feathers? Why were they in such a commotion? I hoped,� she added wistfully, �that they might do a war dance, or some such thing, but they didn�t � and then I noticed that you were all gone, and I was quite alone. I called out after the ambulance, but no one heard me.�

�Elspeth,� says I weakly. �You must never, never do such a thing again. You might have been killed � when I found you weren�t here, I��

�Why, my love, you are all a-tremble! You haven�t been fretting about me, surely? I was perfectly well, you know, for when a number of them saw me and brought their ponies about me, grunting in that strange way, and of course I couldn�t make it out, I was not in the least alarmed � well, not more than a wee bit ��

She wouldn�t be, either. I�ve known brave folk in my time: Broad-foot and Gordon, Brooke and Garibaldi, aye, and Custer, but for cold courage Elspeth, Lady Flashman, n�e Morrison, could match them all together. I could picture her in her flowered green riding dress and ribboned straw hat, perfectly composed while a score of painted savages ringed her, glowering.

A big whoop indeed. Let's get more of the aftermath... next time!

# ? Jul 25, 2022 22:15

Alris: Apr 20, 2007; Welcome to the Fantasy Zone!

Get ready!

Elspeth is the best.

# ? Jul 27, 2022 02:11

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

I choked as I held her, and asked what had happened.

�Well, one of them, very fierce-looking � he had two pistols and was painted all red and yellow�� for God�s sake, it must have been Little Big Man himself ��he came and snapped at me, shaking his fist; he sounded most irritable. I said �Good morning�, and he shouted at me, but presently he got down and was quite civil.�

�Why on earth��

�I smiled at him,� says she, as though that explained it � which it probably did.

��and he made the others stand back, and then he nodded at me, rather abruptly, and conducted me to Mr Spotted Tail. Then, of course, everything was right as could be.�

My alarm, my agonised relief, my sudden welling of affection, died in an instant. I swung round on her, but she was prattling on, one hand round my waist while she tidied her hair with the other.

�And he seemed so glad to see me, and tried to speak in English � ever so badly, and made us both laugh! Then he sent the others away, and managed to tell me that there had been some confusion, and we should wait a little and he would have sent me back to the camp. So that was all right, you see, and I�m sorry if it caused you any anxiety, dear one, but there was no occasion.�

Wasn�t there, though? She�d been with Spotted Tail an hour and better, with the others away, and not a civilised soul in sight � I knew what he was, the horny savage, and that she�d been pouting and ogling at him � All my old, well-founded suspicions came racing back � that first day, thirty-odd years ago, when she swore she was in the Park, and wasn�t, and frolicking half-naked with Cardigan while I lay blotto in the wardrobe, and cuddling with that fat snake Usman, and � oh, heaven knew how many others. I fought for speech.

�What did he do with � I mean, what did you � I mean � dammit, what happened?�

Keep your pants on.

quote:

�Oh, he showed me to such a pretty little grove, with a tent, where I should be comfortable while he went to business with his friends. But presently he came back and we chatted ever so comfortably. Well,� she laughed gaily, �he tried to chat, but it was so difficult, with his funny English � why, almost all he knows is �Joll-ee good!��

Was she taunting me with mock-innocent hints, the damned minx? I can never tell, you see. I craned my neck as we walked � hell�s teeth, there was loose grass sticking to the back of her gown, almost to the collar � there was even a shred in her hair! D�you get that with chatting? I gave a muffled curse and ground my teeth, and was about to explode in righteous accusation when she glanced up at me with those wondrous blue eyes, and for the hundredth time I knew that no one who could smile with that child-like simplicity could possibly be false � could she? And the fact that she�d patently been rolling in grass, positively wallowing in the stuff with her hair down? Eh? And Spotted Tail had had the cheek to tell me he was slavering for her � and they�d been alone for an hour in such a pretty little grove � Jesus, it must be the talk of the tipis by now!

�And then, after a little while, he bade me good-bye ever so courteously, and two of his young men conducted me home.�

Happy to serve as escorts, I'm sure.

quote:

What the devil was I to say? I�d no positive evidence (just plain certainty), and if I accused her, or even voiced suspicion, there would be indignation and floods of tears and reproach � I�d been through it all before. Was I misjudging her by my own rotten standards? No, I wasn�t either � I knew she was a trollop, and her wide-eyed girlishness was a deliberate mockery. Wasn�t it? No, blast it, it wouldn�t do, I�d have it out here and now��

�Oh, please, Harry, don�t look so angry! I did not mean to cause you distress. Were you truly anxious for me?�

�Elspeth,� I began thunderously.

�Oh, you were anxious, and I am a thoughtless wretch! And I am selfish, too, because I cannot be altogether sorry since it has shown me yet again how you care for me. Say you are not angry?� And she gave me a little squeeze as we walked along.

�Elspeth,� says I. �Now � I � ah �� And, as always, I thought what the devil, if I�m wrong, and have been misjudging her all these years, and she�s as chaste as morning dew � so much the better. If she�s not � and I�ll be bound she�s not � what�s an Indian more or less?

�I am truly penitent, you see, and it was perfectly all right, because Mr Spotted Tail took such excellent care of me. Was it not fortunate that he was there, in your absence?� She laughed and sighed happily. ��Joll-ee good!��

Huzzah! And that's the end of that chapter.

# ? Jul 27, 2022 22:02

sebmojo: Oct 23, 2010; Legit Cyberpunk

Those two are great

# ? Jul 28, 2022 06:19

Beefeater1980: Sep 12, 2008; My God, it's full of Horatios!

They so deeply deserve each other.

# ? Jul 28, 2022 06:49

McTimmy: Feb 29, 2008

What an amazing woman.

# ? Jul 30, 2022 16:58

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

If, as I strongly suspect, that turbulent afternoon�s work was a pleasant consummation for Lady Flashman and Chief Spotted Tail, it wasn�t for anyone else. The Black Hills treaty died then and there, slain by Senator Allison and Little Big Man. There followed another meeting at Camp Robinson � which I didn�t attend because I�d have exploded in his presence � at which Spotted Tail announced the Sioux�s formal rejection of the offer; Allison warned him that the government would go ahead anyway, and fix the price at six million without agreement, but the most they could get from him was a promise to send word of the offer to Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse, and if they accepted it then he and Red Cloud would give it their blessing. Which was so much eyewash, since everyone knew the hostiles wouldn�t accept. Standing Bear was to be the ambassador to the hostile chiefs, since he was apparently a prot�g� of Sitting Bull�s and well thought of by him.

�So nothing remains,� says Allison resentfully afterwards, �but for this commission to bear the bitter fruit of failure back to Washington. All your care and arduous labour, gentlemen, for which I thank you, have been in vain.� He was fuming with inward rage at being rebuffed by mere aborigines, and him a Senator, too; for the first and only time I saw his pompous mask drop. �These red rascals,� he burst out, �who wax fat on government bounty, have set us at defiance � defiance, I say! Well, the sooner they�re whipped into line, by cracky, the better!�

It's never the right senator who gets caned within an inch of his life.

quote:

I�ve wondered since how much either side really wanted a treaty. I believe Red Cloud and Spotted Tail were ready for any terms that even looked honourable, and if Allison had been more tactful and offered a half-decent price, they might have won over enough Sioux to make the opposition of the hostile chiefs unimportant. I don�t know. What I can say is that the Indians went away from Camp Robinson in bitter fury, and while Allison was personally piqued I�m not certain he was altogether surprised, or that Washington minded too much. I�ve wondered even if the commission wasn�t simply a means of proving how stubborn the Indians were, and puting �em in the wrong; perhaps of testing their mettle, too. If so, it failed disastrously, for it led Washington and the Army to draw a fatally wrong conclusion: after Camp Robinson it became accepted gospel that whatever happened, the Sioux wouldn�t fight. I confess, having seen the way they didn�t cut loose at the grove, it was a conclusion I shared.

So now, with all the treaty nonsense out of the way, the government set about bringing them to heel, ordering them to come in to the agencies before February of 1876. The message didn�t reach them all until Christmas, which meant it was next to impossible for them to comply, with the Powder country deep in snow. Shades of old Macaulay�s Glencoe, if you like � an ultimatum to wild tribes delivered late and in dead of winter, culminating in massacre. Whether the intentions of the U.S. Government were any more honourable than William III�s I can�t say, but they achieved the same result, in a way.

However, I wasn�t giving much thought to Indians that winter. Elspeth and I had concluded our western tour with a rail journey through the Rockies, a week�s hunting in Colorado, and then back to New York before the snow. I received a handsome testimonial from the Indian Bureau, and notes from Grant and Fisha thanking me for my services, which I thought pretty civil since the whole thing had been a fiasco � only a cynic like me would wonder if that�s why they thanked me. In any event, I was ready to wend our way home to England, and we would have done if it hadn�t been for the blasted Centennial.

A hundred years of vexing the British in ways great and small, among the lesser crimes.

quote:

1876 being the hundredth anniversary of the glorious moment when the Yankee colonists exchanged a government of incompetent British scoundrels for one of ambitious American sharps, it had been decided to celebrate with a grand exposition at Philadelphia � you know the sort of thing, a great emporium crammed with engines and cocoa and ghastly bric-�-brac which the n****** have no further use for, all embellished with flags and vulgar statuary. Our princely muffin the late Albert had set the tone with the Crystal Palace jamboree of 1851, since when you hadn�t been able to stir abroad without tripping over Palaces of Industry and Oriental Pavilions, and now the Yankees were taking it up on the grand scale. Elspeth was all for it; she suffered from the common Scotch mania for improvement and progress through machinery and tracts, and had been on one of the Crystal Palace ladies� committees, so when she fell in with a gaggle of females who were arranging the women�s pavilion at Philadelphia, it was just nuts to her. She was in the thick of their councils in no time � republican women, you know, love a Lady to distraction � and there could be no question of our going home until after the opening in May.

I didn�t mind too much, since New York was jolly enough, and Elspeth was happy to divide her time between Park Avenue and Philadelphia, where preparations were in full cry, with Chinks and dagoes hammering away, for the whole world was exhibiting its Brummagem rubbish, and great halls were being built to house it. I even attended one of Elspeth�s committee teas, and as a traveller of vast experience my views were ardently sought by the organising trots; I assured them that they must insist on the Turks bringing a troupe of their famous contortionist dancers, a sorority akin to the ancient Vestal Virgins; the religious and cultural significance of their muscular movements was of singular interest, I said, and could not fail to edify the masses.

Author's Note posted:

The great Philadelphia Centennial exhibition was opened on May 10, 1876, at Fairmount Park, by President Grant. The foreign contributions included a belly-dancer from Tunisia, but it is unlikely that she was sponsored by the ladies� committee, whose work was on an altogether more serious level. (See Frank Leslie�s Illustrated Historical Register of the Centennial Exposition, reproduced in 1974 with an introduction by Richard Kenin.)

Ah, the scandal! We'll get some of Flashman flummoxed and some reunions too... next time!

Arbite fucked around with this message at 04:26 on Aug 29, 2022

# ? Jul 31, 2022 21:30

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

Mostly, though, we were in and about the smart set, and New York society being as small as such worlds are, the encounter which I had just after Christmas was probably inevitable. It happened in one of those infernal patent circular hotel doors; I was going in as another chap was coming out, and he halted halfway, staring at me through the glass. Then he tried to reverse, which can�t be done, and then he thrust ahead at such a rate that I was carried past and finished where he had been, and he tried to reverse again. I rapped my cane on the glass.

�Open the damned door, sir!� cries I. �It�s not a merry-go-round.�

He laughed, and round we went again. I stood in the lobby as he tumbled out, grinning, a tall, lean cove with a moustache and goatee and a rakish air that I didn�t fancy above half.

�I don�t believe it!� cries he eagerly. �Aren�t you Flashman?�

�So I am,� says I warily, wondering if he was married. �Why?�

�Well, you can�t have forgotten me!� says he, piqued-like. �It isn�t every day, surely, that you almost chop a fellow�s head off!�

It was the voice, full of sharp conceit, that I remembered, not the face. �Custer! George Custer. Well, I�ll be damned!�

I would love to see how many practical props those old photo studios tended to have, as you can see with his hat resting there, vs amount of backdrops.

quote:

�Whatever brings you to New York?� cries he, pumping my fist. �Why, it must be ten years � say, though, more than that since our encounter at Audie! But this is quite capital, old fellow! I should have known those whiskers anywhere � the very picture of a dashing hussar, eh? What�s your rank now?�

�Colonel,� says I, and since it seemed a deuced odd question, though typical of him, I added: �What�s yours?�

�Ha! Well may you ask!� says he. �Half-colonel, and on sufferance at that. But with your opportunities, which we are denied, I�d have thought you�d have your brigade at the least, by now. But there,� cries he bitterly, �you�re a fighting soldier, so you�d be the last they�d promote. All services are alike, my boy.�

Here was one with a bee in his bonnet, I saw, and could guess why. In the war, you see, he�d been the boy general � I�m not sure he wasn�t the youngest in the Union Army � but like all the others he�d had to come down the ladder after the peace, and like a fool he was letting it rankle. I�d heard talk of him in the West, of course, for he�d been active against the Indians, and that he�d come under a cloud for dabbling in politics. Grant, they said, detested him.

�But see here,� he went on, �I�ve been itching to see you for ever so long, and wishing I�d looked you out after the war. You see, I never knew then, that you�d been in the Light Brigade!� I was mystified. �Balaclava! The noble Six Hundred!� cries he, and shot if he wasn�t regarding me with admiration. �But I hadn�t the least notion, you see! Well, that�s something I shall want to hear all about, I can tell you, now that chance has brought us together again.�

�Ah, well yes,� says I uncertainly. �I see ��

�Look here,� says he, sporting his ticker, �it�s the most confounded bore, but I have to call on my publisher � oh, yes, I�m more of a writer than a fighter these days, thanks to the Stuffed Gods of Washington.� He grimaced and took my hand again. �But you�ll dine with me, this evening? Is your wife in New York? Capital! Then we�d better say Delmonico�s � Libby will be head over heels to meet you, and we�ll make a party. Fight our battles o�er again, eh? First-rate!�

Yeah, she looks the type to launch a decades long misinformation campaign.

quote:

I wasn�t sure it was, as I watched him striding off through the falling snow. Aside from the Audie skirmish, Appomattox, and an exchange of courtesies in Washington, I�d hardly known him except by reputation as a reckless firebrand who absolutely enjoyed warfare, and would have been better suited to the Age of Chivalry, when he�d have broken the Holy Grail in his hurry to get at it. And while I�d met scores of old acquaintances in America, for some reason running into Custer recalled my meeting with Spotted Tail, with its uncomfortable consequences.

We dined at Delmonico�s, though, with him and wife, a bonny, prim woman who worshipped him, and his brother Tom, a handsomer edition of the Custer family who got on famously with Elspeth, each being an accomplished flirt. Custer was all high spirits and presented me to his wife with:

�Now, here, Libby, is the English gentleman who almost made a widow of you before you were married. What d�you think of that? Sir Harry Flashman, Victoria Cross and Knight of the Bath�� he�d been at the List, by the sound of it ��also formerly of the Army of the Confederacy, with whom I crossed sabres at Audie, didn�t I, old fellow?� The truth of it was that he�d been laying about him like a drunk Cossack among our Johnnie cavalry, and I�d taken one cut at him in self-defence as I fled for safety to the rebel lines, but if he wanted to remember it as a knightly tourney, let him. �Ah, brave days!� cried he, clapping me on the shoulder, and over the soup he regaled us with sentimental fustian about the brotherhood of the sword, now sheathed in respect and good fellowship.

He was all enthusiasm for Balaclava, demanding the most precise account, and vowing over and over that he wished he�d been there, which shows you he should have been in some sort of institution. Though when I think of it, the Charge was ready-made for the likes of him; he and Lew Nolan would have made a pair. When I�d done, he shook his head wistfully, sighed, regarded his glass (lemonade, if you please), and murmured:

��When shall their glory fade?� C��tait magnifique! � and never mind what some fool of a Frenchman said about it�s not being war! What does he think war is, without loyalty and heroism and the challenge of impossible odds? And you,� says he, fixing me with a misty eye, �were there. D�you know, I have one of your old troopers in my 7th Cavalry? You know him, my dear � Butler. Splendid soldier, best sergeant I�ve got. Well, sir,� he smiled nobly at me and lifted his glass, �I�ve waited a long time to propose this toast � the Light Brigade!�

I nodded modestly, and remarked that the last time I�d heard it drunk had been by Liprandi�s Russian staff after Balaclava, and d�you know, Custer absolutely blubbed on the spot. On lemonade, too.

Oh yeah, this is definitely the guy you want to keep the peace out on the frontier. Sheesh.

We'll see Flashman poke the sobbing sober sod... next time!

# ? Aug 21, 2022 03:14

Genghis Cohen: Jun 29, 2013

Arbite posted:

...

Yeah, she looks the type to launch a decades long misinformation campaign.

...

We'll see Flashman poke the sobbing sober sod... next time!

Really glad this is still going! What do you mean about Custer's wife/widow and a disinformation campaign? Was she a leading disseminator of some sort of idea that the Sioux started it, or that he didn't make a colossal tactical blunder?

# ? Aug 21, 2022 16:28

poisonpill: Nov 8, 2009; The only way to get huge fast is to insult a passing witch and hope she curses you with Beast-strength.

Custer was a huge mess of a person. He lost a lot of people�s money in crazy investments, shoved his nose into politics and made a bunch of enemies for now reason, constantly played nepotism games out of anguish about his rank, stole and deserted and was court marshaled twice, and constantly cheated on his wife. The only thing good about him was how well he could ride and fight, which saved his bacon after multiple blunders. Until it didn�t b

# ? Aug 21, 2022 17:27

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

�Ah, but you British are lucky!� cries he, after he�d mopped himself and they�d brought him a fresh salad. �When I reflect on the contrasting prospects of an aspiring English subaltern and his American cousin, my heart could break. For the one � Africa, India, the Orient � why, half the world�s his oyster, where he can look forward to active service, advancement, glory! For the other, he�ll be lucky if he sees a skirmish against Indians � and precious thanks he�ll get for that! � and thirty years of weary drudgery in some desert outpost where he can expect to end his days as a forgotten captain entering returns.�

�Come now,� says I, �there�s plenty of drudgery in our outposts, too. As to glory � you�ve had the biggest war since the Peninsula, and no man came out of it with brighter laurels than you did.� Which was true, although I was saying it to sweeten Libby Custer, who�d shown no marked enthusiasm for me on hearing how I�d almost cut off her hero in his prime. She beamed at me now, and laid a fond hand on Custer�s arm.

�That is true, Autie,� says she, and he gave her a noble sigh.

�And where has it led me, my dear? Fort Abe Lincoln, to be sure, under the displeasure of my chiefs. Compare my position with Sir Harry�s splendid record � Indian Mutiny, Crimea, Afghanistan, China, the lord knows where else, and our own war besides. Why, his Queen has knighted him! Don�t think, old fellow,� says he, earnestly, �that I grudge you the honours you�ve won. But I envy you � your past, aye, and your future.�

�Luck of the service,� says I, and because I was bored with his croaking I added: �Anyway, I�ve never been a general, and I�ve got only one American Medal of Honour, you know.�

This was Flashy at his most artistic, you�ll agree, when I tell you that I knew perfectly well that Custer had no Medal of Honour, but his brother Tom had two. I guessed nothing would gall him more than having to correct my apparent mistake, which he did, stiffly, while Tom studied the cutlery and I was all apologies, feigning embarrassment.

1... 2... Well look at that!

Who's this?

Wikipedia posted:

(Pictures taken shortly after the battle show a scar "with minor soft tissue damage to his lower jaw extending to a point just below the right ear"; though the wound to Tom's face was across blood-rich tissue and covered him in his own blood, had the bullet gone through the mouth or the soft tissue of the neck it would have likely struck a major vessel and have caused him to bleed to death.) Having captured the flag Custer held it aloft and rode back to the Union column. An officer of the Third New Jersey cavalry, seeing Custer ride back with the banner flapping, tried to warn him that he might be shot by his own side: "For God's sake, Tom, furl that flag or they'll fire on you!" Custer ignored him and kept riding towards his brother Armstrong's personal battle flag and handed the captured flag to one of Armstrong's aides while declaring, "Armstrong, the damned rebels shot me, but I've got my flag." Custer turned his horse to rejoin the battle, but Armstrong (who had only seconds before seen another of his aides be shot in the face and fall from his horse dead) ordered Custer to report to the surgeon. Tom ignored the order and his brother placed him under arrest, ordering him to the rear under guard.

Hah, peas in a pod.

quote:

�They send �em up with the rations, anyway,� says I, lamely, and Elspeth, who is the most well-meaning pourer of oil on troubled flames I know, launched into a denunciation of the way Jealous Authority invariably overlooked the Claims of the Most Deserving, �for my own gallant countrymen, Lord Clyde and Sir Hugh Rose, were never awarded the Victoria Cross, you know, and I believe there were letters in the Herald and Scotsman about it, and Harry was only given his at the last minute, isn�t that so, my love? And I am sure, General Custer,� went on the amazing little blatherskite with awestruck admiration, �that if you knew the esteem in which your name and fame are held in military circles outside America, you would not exchange it for anything.�

Not a word of truth in it, but d�you know, Custer blossomed like a flower, he had an astonishing vanity, and his carping about his lot had more of honest fury than self-pity in it. He knew he was a good soldier � and he was, you know, when he was in his right mind. I�ve seen more horse-soldiering than most, and if my life depended on how a mounted brigade was handled, I�d as soon see George Custer in command as anyone I know. His critics, who never saw him at Gettysburg and Yellow Tavern, base their case on one piece of arrant folly and bad luck, when he let his ambition get the better of him. But he was good, and felt with some justice that the knives had been out for him. I reflected, watching him that night, how the best soldiers in war are so often ill-suited to peacetime service; he�d been a damned pest, they said, at West Point, and since the war he�d been collecting no end of black marks � there was one ugly tale of his leaving a detachment to its fate on the frontier, and another of his shooting deserters; he�d been court-martialled and suspended, and only reinstated because Sheridan knew there wasn�t an Indian fighter to touch him. Certainly he hadn�t reached the heights he thought he�d deserved, thanks to his own orneriness, bad luck, and the malignant Stuffed Gods of Washington, as he called them.

The discontent showed, too. He was still in his middle thirties, and I swear without vanity he looked as old as I did at fifty-three. One reason I�d been slow to recognise him was that the brilliant young cavalier I�d seen bearing down on us at Audie, long gold curls streaming from beneath his ridiculous ribboned straw hat, had changed into a worn, restless, middle-aged man with an almost feverish glint in his eyes; his skin was dry, the hair was lank and faded, and the tendons in his neck stuck out when he leaned forward in animated talk. I wondered � and I ain�t being clever afterwards � how long he would last.

Eesh.

quote:

We saw a good deal of the Custers that winter, for although he wasn�t the kind I�m used to seek out � being Puritan straight, no booze, baccy, or naughty cuss-words, and full of soldier talk � it�s difficult to resist a man who treats you as though you were a military oracle, and can�t get enough of your conversation. He was beglamoured by my reputation, you see, not knowing it was a fraud, and had a great thirst for my campaign yarns. He�d read the first volume of my Dawns and Departures, and was full of it; I must read his own memoirs of the frontier which he was preparing for the press. So I did, and said it was the finest thing I�d struck, beat Xenophon into a cocked hat; the blighter fairly glowed.

Our womenfolk dealt well, too, and Tom was a cheery soul who kept Elspeth amused with his jokes (I�d run the rule over him and decided he was harmless). So we five dined frequently, and visited the theatre, of which Custer was a great patron; he was a friend of Barrett the actor, who was butchering Shakespeare at Booth�s, and would sit with his eyes glued to the stage muttering �Friends, Romans, countrymen� under his breath.

That should have made me leery; I�m all for a decent play myself, but when you see someone transported from reality by them, watch out. I shan�t easily forget the night we saw some sentimental abomination about a soldier going off to the wars; when the moment came when his wife buckled on his sword for him, I heard sniffing and supposed it was Libby or Elspeth piping her eye. Then the sniff became a baritone groan, and when I looked, so help me it was Custer himself, with his hand to his brow, bedewing his britches with manly tears. Libby and Elspeth began to bawl, too, possibly in sympathy, and had to be helped out, and they all had a fine caterwaul in the corridor, with Libby holding Custer�s arm and whispering, �Oh, Autie, it makes me so fearful for you!� Deuced ominous, you may think, and a waste of five circle tickets to boot. At least with Spotted Tail you got your money�s worth.

It was in February that Custer announced that he and Libby would have to leave New York for Fort Lincoln, the outpost far up the Missouri where his regiment was quartered; when I observed that I didn�t see how he could even exercise cavalry until the snow got properly away, he admitted flat out that they were going because they couldn�t afford to stay in New York any longer: his pockets were to let. Since I knew it would give offence, I toyed with the idea of inviting them to stay with us, but thought better of it; he might have accepted.

�The sooner I am back the better, in any event,� says he. �I must be thoroughly prepared for the spring; I must be. It may be the last chance, you see.� I noticed he was looking more on edge than usual, so I asked him, last chance of what? We were in the Century Club, as I remember; he took a turn up and down, and then sat abruptly, facing me.

�The last chance I�ll ever see of a campaign,� says he, and drummed his fingers on his knee. �The fact is that once this question of the hostile Sioux is settled, as it must be this year, there�s going to be precious little left for the U.S. Army to do � certainly nothing that could be dignified by the name of �campaign�. The Sioux,� says he grimly, �are the last worthwhile enemy we�ve got � unlike you we don�t have an empire full of obliging foes, alas! It follows that any senior officer aspiring to general rank had better make his name while the fighting lasts ��

�Hold hard, though,� says I. �It�s common knowledge that the Sioux won�t fight, isn�t it? Why, the Indian Office was quoted in the papers t�other day, doubting if five hundred hostile Indians would ever be gathered together in America again.�

�They�ll fight all right!� cries he. �They�re bound to. You haven�t heard the latest news: Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull have defied the government�s ultimatum to come in to the agencies by the end of January � there are thousands of �em camped up on the Powder this minute who�ll never come in! That�s tantamount to a declaration of war � and when that war begins this spring I and the 7th Cavalry are going to be in the van, my boy! Which means that the Stuffed Gods of Washington, who have done me down at every turn and would dearly love to retire me to Camp Goodbye to count horseshoes, will have to think again!� He grinned as though he could taste triumph already. �Yes, sir � the American people will be reminded that George A. Custer is too good a bargain to be put on the back shelf. My one fervent prayer,� added this pious vampire fiercely, �is that Crazy Horse doesn�t catch any fatal illness before the spring grass grows.�

How nice, somebody actually wants the Sioux around. Christ.

We'll get a few false starts on departing... Next time!

# ? Aug 25, 2022 02:09

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

�You�re sure he�ll fight, then?�

�If he don�t, he�s not the man I think he is. By gad,� cries he with unusual fervour, �I would, if it was my land and buffalo! So would you.� He smiled at me, knowing-like, and then glanced about conspiratorially, lowering his voice. �In fact, when we ride west in May, I�ll be taking whoever I choose in my command party, and if some distinguished visiting officer cared to accompany me as a guest, why �� He winked, an appalling sight since his eye was bright with excitement. �What about it? Fancy a slap at the redskins, do you? Heaven knows you must have soldiered against everyone else!�

That�s the trouble with my derring-do reputation � blood-thirsty asses like Custer think I can�t wait to cry �Ha-ha!� among the trumpets. I�d as soon have walked naked to Africa to join the Foreign Legion. But you have to play up; I made my eyes gleam and chewed my lip like a man sore tempted.

�Get thee behind me, Custer,� I chuckled, and ruefully shook my head. �No-o � I doubt if Horse Guards would approve of my chasing Indians � not that I�d care a button for that, but � Dammit, I�d give a leg to go along with you��

�Well then?� cries he, all a-quiver.

�But there�s the old girl, you see. She�s waved me off to war so many times, brave little soul � oh, I can leave her when duty calls, but �� I sighed, manly wistful. �But not for fun, George, d�you see? Decent of you to ask, though.�

�I understand,� says he solemnly. �Yes, our women have the harder part, do they not?� I could have told him they didn�t; Elspeth had led a life of reckless and probably wanton pleasure while I was being chased half round the world by homicidal n******. �Well,� says he, �if you should change your mind, just remember, there�s always a good horse and a good gun � aye, and a good friend � waiting for you at Fort Lincoln.� He shook my hand.

�George,� says I earnestly, �I shan�t forget that.� I don�t forget holes in the road or places I owe money, either.

Not a lot of wracked up dept in the Flashman stories, mostly just worrying about the width of funnel from which cash pours.

quote:

�God bless you, old fellow,� says he, and off he went, much to my relief, for he�d given me a turn by suggesting active service, the dangerous, inconsiderate bastard. �Tain�t lucky. I hoped I�d seen the last of him, but several weeks later, sometime in April, when Elspeth was off in the final throes of her Philadelphia preparations, I came home one night to find a note asking me to call on him at the Brevoort. I�d supposed him far out on the prairie, inspecting ammunition and fly-buttons, and here was his card with the remarkable scrawl: �If ever I needed a friend, it is now! Don�t fail me!!�

Plainly he was in a fine state of frenzy, so I tooled round to the Brevoort next morning, anticipating sport, only to find he was at his publisher�s. Aha, thinks I, that�s it: they�ve thrown him and his beastly book into the gutter, or want him to pay for the illustrations; still, Custer as an unhinged author might be diverting, so I waited, and presently he arrived like a whirlwind, crying out at sight of me and bustling me to his room. I asked if they�d set his book in Norwegian by mistake, and he stared at me; he looked fit for murder.

�Nothing to do with my book! I merely saw my publisher in passing � indeed, I�m only in New York because if I had stayed in that � that sink of conspiracy in Washington a moment longer, I believe I�d have run mad!�

�What�s the row in Washington? I thought you were out in Fort Lincoln.�

�So I was, and so I should be! It�s a conspiracy, I tell you! A foul, despicable plot by that scoundrel who masquerades as President ��

�Sam Grant? Come now, George,� says I, �he�s a surly brute, we agree, and his taste in cigars is awful � but he ain�t a plotter.�

He's scammed around, not through, or so his supportes (and most historians) say.

quote:

�What do you know about it?� snaps he. �Oh, forgive me, old friend! I am so distraught by this � this web they�ve spun about me ��

�What web? Now look here, you take a deep breath, or put your head in the basin there, and tell it plain, will you?�

He let out a great heaving sigh, and suddenly smiled and clasped my hand. Gad, he was a dramatic creature, though. �Good old Flash!� he cries. �The imperturbable Englishman. You�re right, I must take hold. Well, then ��

He�d been at Fort Lincoln, preparing for his precious Sioux campaign, when he�d suddenly been summoned to Washington to give evidence against Belknap, the Secretary for War, no less, who was in a great scandal because of bribes his wife was said to have taken from some post trader or Indian agent (I wasn�t clear on the details). Custer, not wanting to leave his regiment so soon before taking the field, had asked to be excused, but the jacks-in-office had insisted, so off he�d gone and given his evidence which, by his account, wasn�t worth a snuff anyway. The mischief was that Belknap was a great crony of Grant�s, and Grant was furious at Custer for having given evidence at all.

The whole thing stank of politics, and I guessed I wasn�t hearing the half of it. All the world knew Grant�s administration was rotten to the core, and I�d heard hints that Custer himself had political ambitions of no mean order. But what mattered just then was that he�d put Grant in a towering rage.

Oh ho?

Author's Note posted:

This gossipy summary of the Belknap case is true enough in its essentials, but what is still not clear is Custer�s motive in giving evidence at the time. He did have high political ambitions, and the corruption of the administration was no doubt a tempting target. But he was probably sincere in not wanting to leave his command to testify in person, for purely military reasons � and possibly also because he feared the consequences of embarrassing Grant at that particular moment. It was, perhaps, a question of timing � and Custer�s sense of timing could be deplorably bad. (For details of Custer�s correspondence with the Clymer committee, who summoned him to Washington, see A Complete Life of General George Armstrong Custer, by Frederic Whittaker, 1876; Dunn.)

Hah, oh dear. Incidentally, that's the book his wife supported in her early efforts to polish his image.

We'll see the more of that sour man and enjoy a fine bit of Flashman and literature colliding... next time!

# ? Aug 29, 2022 04:26

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

�He means to break me!� cries Custer. �I know his vindictive spirit. By his orders I am kept in Washington, like a dog on a lead, at a time when my regiment needs me as never before! It�s my belief Grant intends I shall not return to the West � that his jealous spite is such that he will deny me the chance to take the field! You doubt it? You don�t know Washington, that�s plain, or the toads and curs that infest it! As though I cared a rap for Belknap and his dirty dealings! If Grant would see me I would tell him so � that all I want is to do my duty in the field! But he refuses me an audience!�

I let him rave, and then asked what he wanted of me. He spun round like a jack-in-the-box.

�You know Grant,� says he fiercely. �He respects you, and he is bound to listen to you! You are his old friend and comrade � if you were to urge him to let me go, he could not ignore it. Will you? You know what this campaign means to me!�

I didn�t know whether to laugh more at his brazen cheek or his folly in supposing that Grant would pay the least heed to me. I started to say so, but he brushed it violently aside.

�Grant will listen to you, I say! Don�t you see, you must carry weight? You�re neutral, and free of all political interest � and you have the seal of the greatest American who ever lived! Didn�t Lincoln say: �When all other trusts fail, turn to Flashman�? Besides, Grant appointed you to the Indian Commission, didn�t he? He cannot refuse you a hearing. You must speak up for me. If you don�t, I can�t think who will � and I�ll be finished, on the brink of glorious success!�

�But look here,� says I, �there are far better advocates, you know. Sherman, and Sheridan, your friends��

�Sheridan�s in Chicago. Sherman? I don�t for the life of me know where he stands. By heaven, if Robert Lee were alive, I�d ask him � he�d stand up for me!�

What, no mention of McClellan?

quote:

He stood working his fists, his face desperate. �You�re my best hope � my only one! I beg of you not to fail me!�

The man was plainly barmy. If I carried weight in Washington it was news to me, and bearding Sam Grant on this crackpot�s behalf wasn�t my idea of a jolly afternoon. On the other hand, it was flattering to be asked, and it might be fun to help stir up what sounded like an uncommon dirty kettle of fish � and to see what effect my unorthodox approach might have on Grant � not for Custer�s sake, but for my own private amusement. I was at a loose end in New York, anyway. So I hemmed a bit, and finally said, very well, I�d come to Washington to oblige him, not that it would do the least good, mind �

�You are the noblest soul alive!� cries he, with tears in his eyes, and swept me down to luncheon, during which he talked like a Gatling about what I should say to Grant, and his own sterling qualities, and the iniquities of the administration. Not that I heeded much of it � my attention had been caught elsewhere.

It was her voice at first high and sharp and Yankee, at the dining-room door: �Yep. A table by the window. Oh-kay.� And then her figure, as she rustled smartly past in the waiter�s wake; fashionable women in the �70s dressed so tight they could barely sit down, and hers was the perfect hourglass shape � a waist I could gladly have spanned with my two hands, but for her upper and lower works you�d have needed the help of the lifeboat crew. Unusually tall, close on six feet from the feathered cap on her piled blue-black hair to the modish calf-boots, and a most arresting profile as she turned to take her seat. Commanding was the word for the straight nose and brow and the full, almost fleshy, mouth and chin, but the complexion was that dusky rose high colour you see on beautiful Italians, and I felt the steam rise under my collar as I drank her in. Then she turned her face full to the room � and arresting wasn�t the word.

Her right eye was covered with a patch of embroidered purple silk with a ribbon across brow and temple, matching her dress. Don�t misunderstand me; I don�t fancy �em one-legged or hunch-backed or with six toes, and after the first shock you realised that the patch was of no more account than an earring or beauty spot; nothing could distract from the magnetic beauty of that full-lipped arrogant face with its superb colouring � indeed, the incongruous note was her harsh nasal voice carrying sharply as she gave her order: �Mahk turrel soup, feelay Brev�urt medium rayr, Old Injun pudding. Spa warrer. Yep.� Well, she probably needed plenty of nourishment to keep that Amazonian figure up to the mark. Italian-American, probably; the ripe splendour of the Mediterranean with the brash hardness of the Yankee. Ripe was the word, too; she�d be about forty, which made that slim waist all the more remarkable � Lord God, what must she look like stripped? And in that happy contemplation I forgot her eye-patch altogether, which just shows you. My last glimpse of her as we left the dinning-room, she was smoking a long cigarette and trickling the smoke from her shapely nostrils as she sat boldly erect scanning the room with her cool dark eye. Ah, well, thinks I regretfully, ships that pass, and don�t even speak each other, never mind boarding.

Author's Note posted:

Tight waists were a fashionable joke at this time. Punch has a cartoon of three ladies who have dressed for the evening on the understanding that they will not even have to climb the stair.

A cursory glance around didn't locate this image, anyone else have luck?

Anyway, without interruption, my favorite scene in the book:

quote:

From that exotic vision to the surly bearded presence of Ulysses S. Grant was a most damnable translation, I can tell you. I had endured Custer�s rantings on the way down � release from Washington and return to his command were what I was expected to achieve � and while it seemed to me that my uncalled-for Limey interference could only make matters worse, well, I didn�t mind that. I was quite enjoying the prospect of playing bluff, honest Harry at the White House, creating what mischief I could. When Ingalls, the Quartermaster-General, heard what we�d come for, he said bluntly that Grant would have me kicked into the street, and I said I�d take my chance of that, and would he kindly send in my card? He clucked like an old hen, but presently I was ushered into the big airy room, and Grant was shaking hands with fair cordiality for him. He thanked me again for Camp Robinson, inquired after Elspeth, snarled at the thought that he was going to have to open the Philadelphia exhibition, and asked what he could do for me. Knowing my man, I went straight in.

�Custer, Mr President.�

�What�s that?� His cordiality vanished, and his burly shoulders stiffened. �Has he been at you?�

�He asked me to see you, since he can�t. As a friend of his��

�Have you come here to intercede for him? Is that it?�

�I don�t know, sir,� says I. �Is intercession necessary?�

He took a breath, and his jaw came out like a cannon. �Now see here, Flashman � the affairs of Colonel Custer with this office are no concern of yours, and I am astonished, sir, and most displeased, that you should presume to intrude in them. Poking your goddam nose � I will hear no representations from you, sir! As an officer of a � another country, you should know very well that you have no standing in this. Confound it! None whatsoever. I am gravely angered, sir!�

I let him boil. �May I remind you with the greatest respect, Mr President,� says I gently, �that I hold the rank of major, retired, United States Army, and also the Congressional Medal of Honour? If those do not entitle me to address the Commander-in-Chief on behalf of a brother-officer � then, sir, I can only offer my profound apologies for having disturbed you, and bid you a very good day.�

I stood up as I said it, perfectly composed, bowed slightly, and turned towards the door. If the little bugger had let me go I was prepared to turn on the threshold and roar in a voice they could hear in Maryland: �I deeply regret, sir, that I have found here only the President of the United States; I had hoped to find Ulysses S. Grant!� But I knew Sam; before I�d gone two steps he barked:

�Come back here!� So I did, while he stood hunched, glowering at me. �Very good � major,� says he at last. �Let�s have it.�

�Thank�ee, General.� I knew my line now, I thought. �It�s like this, sir: Custer believes, justly or not, that he has been denied a fair hearing. He also believes he�s being held in Washington to prevent his taking part in the campaign.�

I paused, and he looked at me flint-faced. �Well, sir?�

�If that�s true, General, I�d say he�s entitled to know why, and that he�s sufficiently senior to hear it from you in person. That�s all, Mr President.�

The brevity of it startled him, as I�d known it would. He stuck forward his bullet head, frowning. �That�s all you have to say? No other � plea on his behalf?�

�Not my biznay, sir. There may be political reasons I don�t know about. And I�m no longer your military adviser.�

�You never were!� he barked. �Not that that ever stopped you from advancing your opinions.� He stumped to the windows and peered out, growling; apparently he didn�t care for the view. �Oh, come on!� he snapped suddenly. �You don�t fool me! What have you got to say for this damned jackanapes? I may tell you,� he faced round abruptly, �that I�ve already had appeals from Sherman and Phil Sheridan, urging his professional competence, distinguished service, and all the rest of it. They also conceded, what they couldn�t dam� well deny,� he added with satisfaction, �that he�s a meddlesome mountebank who�s too big for his britches, and gave me sentimental slop about the shame of not allowing him to ride forth at the head of his regiment. Well, sir, they failed to convince me.� He eyed me almost triumphantly. �I am not inclined, either on professional or personal grounds, to entrust Colonel George A. Custer with an important command. Well � major?�

I couldn�t credit he hadn�t been swayed, at least a little, by Sherman and Sheridan, otherwise he wouldn�t be wasting time talking to me. My guess was they�d pushed him to the edge, and another touch would do it, if properly applied.

�Well, Mr President,� says I, �I�ve no doubt you�re right.�

�Damned right I�m right.� He frowned. �What�s that mean? Don�t you agree with Sherman and Sheridan?�

�Well, sir,� says I doubtfully, �I gather you don�t agree with them yourself ��

�What I agree or don�t agree with is not to the point,� says he testily. �You�re here to badger me on this fellow�s behalf, aren�t you? Well, get on with it! I�m listening.�

�Mr President, I submitted only that if he�s to lose his command he should be told so, and not kept kicking his heels in your anteroom��

�I�m not seeing him, so now! And that�s flat!�

�Well, beyond that, sir, it�s not for me to press my views.�

�That�s a day I�ll live to see!� scoffs he. �I know you � you�re like all the rest. You think I�m being unjust, don�t you? That I�m putting personal and political considerations � of which, by the way, you know nothing � above the good of the service? You want to tell me George Custer�s the finest thing since Murat��

�Hardly that, sir,� says I, and quietly gave him both barrels. �I wouldn�t give him charge of an escort, myself.�

I�m possibly the only man who�s ever seen Ulysses S. Grant with his eyes wide open. His mouth, too.

�Then hell you say! What are you talking about � escort? What�s the matter with you?� He stared at me, suspiciously. �I thought you were a friend of his?�

�Indeed, sir. I hope that wouldn�t prejudice me, though.�

�Prejudice?� He looked nonplussed. �Now see here, let�s get this straight. I�m not denying that Custer�s a competent cavalry commander��

�Jeb Stuart gave him the right about at Yellow Tavern,� I mused. �But then, Stuart was exceptional, we know��

�The hell with Stuart! What�s that to the matter? I don�t understand you, Flashman. I am not disputing Custer�s professional merits, within limits. I�m aware of them � no man better � Escort, indeed! What did you mean by that, sir?�

�Well, perhaps that was coming in a bit raw,� I admitted. �I�ve always thought, though, that George was a trifle excitable � headstrong, you know � inclined to play to the gallery ��

�He�s given proof enough of that!� says Grant warmly. �Which is one reason I intend to send out a man who won�t use the campaign as an excuse for gallivanting theatrically to impress the public for his own ambitious reasons.�

�Ah, well, that�s not my province, you see. I can only talk as a soldier, Mr President, and if I have � well, any reservations about old George � I daresay that having come up with the Light Brigade and Jeb Stuart I tend to��

�You and Jeb Stuart! �Jine the cavalree!�� He snorted and gave me another of his suspicious squints. �See here � have you got it in for Custer?�

�Certainly not, sir!� I was bluff indignation at once, and tried a contemptuous snort of my own. �And I�m absolutely not one of those cheap fogies who can�t forget he came foot of the class at West Point��

�I should hope not! We know what that�s worth.� He shook his head and glowered a bit. �I came twenty-first out of thirty-nine myself. Yeah. First in horsemanship, though.�

�I never knew that,� says I, all interest.

�Yes, sir.� He looked me up and down with a sour grin. �You dandy boys with lancer figures think you�re the only ones can ride, don�t you?� He hesitated, but being Sam, not for long. �Care for a drink?�

He poured them out, and we imbibed, and after he�d got the taste of it and ruminated, he came back to the matter in hand, shaking his head. �No, I�d be the last man to belittle Custer as a soldier. Escort! I like that! But as to seeing him � no, Flashman, I can�t do it. �Twould only make bad worse. I know what you mean about excitable, you see. Impassioned appeals to me as an old brother-in-arms � I won�t have that.� He gulped his drink and sighed. �I don�t know. We�ll say no more about it, then.�

Taking this for dismissal, I was ready to be off, well satisfied with having thoroughly muddied the waters, and he saw me to the door, affably enough. Then a thought seemed to strike him, and he coughed uncertaintly, glancing at me sidelong. Suddenly he came out with it, peering under his brows.

�Tell me � something I�ve often wondered, but never cared to ask. Would you be � that is, were you � the Flashman in Tom Brown�s Schooldays?�

I�m used to it by now, and vary my reply according to the inquirer. �Oh, yes, don�t you know,� says I. �That�s me.�

�Oh.� He blinked. �Yes, I see � well.� He didn�t know which way to look. �Uh-huh. But � was it true? What he says, I mean � about you?�

I considered this. �Oh, yes, I�d say so. Every word of it.� I chuckled reminiscently. �Great days they were.�

He scratched his beard and muttered, �I�ll be damned!� and then shook my hand, rather uncomfortably, and stumped off, with an anxious glance or two over his shoulder.

Author's Note posted:

President Grant was an admirer of Tom Brown�s Schooldays and its author, Thomas Hughes, the Radical MP and social reformer, who (like his book) became extremely popular in the United States � Hughes even helped to found a model community in Tennessee, which was christened Rugby, after his old school. During Grant�s visit to England in 1877, Hughes proposed the former President�s health at a private dinner at the Crystal Palace; Grant had been told that a speech from him was not expected, but he insisted on rising to express his gratification at hearing �my health proposed in such kind words by Tom Brown of Rugby�.

That was just lovely. And he doesn't see through Flashman but isn't overawed. Right up until the end, anyway.

We'll get Custer's reaction to all of this... next time!

# ? Sep 1, 2022 00:46

Genghis Cohen: Jun 29, 2013

Arbite posted:

What, no mention of McClellan?

A cursory glance around didn't locate this image, anyone else have luck?

Anyway, without interruption, my favorite scene in the book:

That was just lovely. And he doesn't see through Flashman but isn't overawed. Right up until the end, anyway.

We'll get Custer's reaction to all of this... next time!

Flashman's adventures in the civil war really is one of the great unwritten novels, for my money. The fact he served on both sides, he had the Medal of Honour, that great line from Lincoln . . . we will always wonder what happened.

# ? Sep 2, 2022 00:07

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# ? Jun 5, 2024 20:09

Arbite: Nov 4, 2009

quote:

I strolled out, and Custer leaped from ambush, demanding news.

�He thinks you�re a damned good cavalryman,� says I, �but he won�t see you.�

�But my reinstatement? I may leave Washington?�

�No go there, either, I�m afraid. He don�t hold it against you that you came last at the Point, by the way.�

�What?� He was fairly hopping. �You � you could not move him at all? He concedes me nothing? In heaven�s name, what did you say? Didn�t you urge my��

�Now, calm yourself. I�ve done you a better day�s work than you know, if I�m any judge. Sherman and Sheridan have been at him, too. So just rest easy, and it�ll come right, you�ll see.�

�How can I rest easy? If you have failed me � oh, you must have bungled it!� cries this grateful specimen. �Ah, this is too much! The corrupt, mean-spirited villain! I am to be kept like a lackey at his door, am I? Well, if he thinks that, he doesn�t know his man! I defy him!�

And he stormed off in a passion, vowing to catch the next train west, and Grant could make of it what he liked.

With a temperament like that it's a wonder he didn't reach theater command.

quote:

I ambled back to the hotel, whistling, and found a note at the porter�s cabin; Grant wanting me to autograph his copy of Tom Brown, no doubt. But it wasn�t. A very clerkly hand:

�The Directors of the Upper Missouri Development Corporation present their compliments to Sir Harry Flashman, etc., and request the privilege of a conference in Room 26/28 of this hotel at 3 o�clock, to discuss a Proposal which they are confident will be of mutual advantage.�

I�d had �em before, at home, fly-by-night company sharps hoping to enlist a well-known public man (if you�ll forgive me) in some swindle or other, and prepared to grease the palm according. I�d not have thought I was prominent enough over here, though, and was about to crumple it up when I noted that these merchants were at least flush enough to engage a suite of rooms. No harm in investigating, so at the appointed hour I rapped the timber of Number 26, and was admitted by a sober nondescript who conducted me to the inner door and said the company president was expecting me.

I went in, and the company president rose from behind a desk covered with papers and held out a hand in welcome. The company president was wearing crimson velvet today, and as before, the eye-patch and ribbon were to match.

�Good of you to be so prompt, Sir Harry.� Her handshake was firm and brisk, like her voice. �Yep. Pray be seated. A cigarette?� She had one smoking in a copper tray, and while I lighted another she sat down with a graceful rustle and appraised me with that single dark eye. �Forgive me. I�d expected you to be older. Yep. The letters after your name, and all.�

Curious tick.

quote:

If there�s one thing I can tolerate it�s a voluptuous beauty who expected me to be older. I was still recovering from my surprise, and blessing my luck. At point-blank she was even more overpowering than I�d have imagined; the elegant severity of the dress which covered her from ankle to chin emphasized her figure in a most distracting way. It was abundantly plain that her shape was her own, and certainly no corset � they were thrusting across the desk of their own free will, and the temptation to seize one and cry �How�s that?� was strong. No encouragement, though, from that commandingly handsome dark face with the crimson strip cutting obliquely across brow and cheek; the fleshy mouth and chin were all business, and the smile coldly formal. The high colour of her skin, I noticed, was artfully applied, but she wore no perfume or jewellery, and her hands were strong and capable. In a word, she looked like a belly-dancer who�s gone in for banking.

I said I believed I�d seen her lunching at the Brevoort, in New York, and she nodded curtly and disposed of it in her harsh nasal voice.

�Yep, correct. You were engaged, so I didn�t intrude. I meant to speak with you later, but they said you�d left for Washington. I had business here, so I figured to kill two birds with one stone. Oh-kay,� she drawled, and folded her hands on the table. �Business. I understand you have the acquaintance of Chancellor Prince von Bismarck.�

That was a facer. For one thing, �acquaintance� wasn�t how I�d have described that German ruffian who�d dragged me into his diabolical Strackenz plot and tried to murder me, and how did she�

�You allude to him in your book�� She tapped a volume on the table ��in a way that suggests you�ve met him. Dawns and Departures. Most interesting. I take it you do know him?�

�Fairly well,� says I, on my guard. �At one time we were � ah, close associates. Haven�t seen him for some years, though.� Twenty-eight, to be exact. I�d kept count, thankfully.

They would have a bit of a 'Not before I see you' encounter not too long after this, though.

We'll see where this mysterious beauty takes the conversation... next time!

# ? Sep 3, 2022 02:21

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > A Singularly Unpleasant Creature: Let's Read Flashman!

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