Notes

1.	John Arthur (Jack) Johnson (1878–1946), the first black boxer to win the world heavyweight title, was the most unpopular of champions and, in the opinion of the most respected ring historians, the best. He won the title in 1908 by beating Tommy Burns of Canada, having pursued him from America to England and finally to Australia, and lost it in 1915 to Jess Willard of the U.S.A. In the intervening years he was the object of a campaign of race hatred unique in sport; in that colour-conscious age Johnson’s arrogance in and out of the ring, his cruelty to opponents, his white wives, his complacent smile showing gold-capped teeth, his skipping bail to Paris to avoid a prison sentence in America (he had violated the Mann Act by taking a woman with whom he was having an affair across a State line), and above all, his undoubted supremacy in a game which had always been a peculiar source of white pride, brought out the very worst in the sporting public. None was more vicious than the novelist Jack London, who had covered Burns’s “funeral” as he called it, for the New York Herald, and who conducted the notorious “Whip the Nigger” campaign to “remove the golden smile from Johnson’s face”. He and others persuaded Jim Jeffries, a former champion, to come out of retirement to challenge for the title. The fight took place in Reno, Nevada, in 1910, and so highly charged was the atmosphere beforehand (fatal race riots had followed some of Johnson’s previous victories) that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was invited to act as referee; it was felt, rightly, that no sportsman on earth was so universally respected, or more likely to exert a calming influence. Doyle wanted to accept, but his own campaign against the atrocities in the Belgian Congo was demanding all his attention, and after a week’s hesitation he reluctantly declined. In the event, Johnson won easily, there were no disturbances, and the quest for a “White Hope” lasted another five years, until Johnson succumbed (voluntarily, in the opinion of many) to the gigantic but undistinguished Willard.
	Flashman’s view of Johnson was widely shared; his unquestioned brilliance as a ring mechanic apart, the black champion was not an endearing figure, but it is only fair to quote the opinion of another well-known Victorian, who had the rare distinction of meeting him in the ring and coming out on his feet. Victor McLaglen was an admired British heavyweight long before he became a film actor; he went six rounds to a draw in a “no-decision” bout with Johnson in 1909, and wrote afterwards that the champion “fought like a gentleman”, was “undoubtedly the hardest man to hit whom I ever met”, and was also “the most charming opponent”. (See Terry Leigh-Lye, In This Corner, 1963; Nat Fleischer and Sam Andre, Pictorial History of Boxing, 1959; M. and M. Hardwick, The Man Who Was Sherlock Holmes, 1964; Jack London, in the New York Herald, 1908; Victor McLaglen, Express to Hollywood, 1934.)
2.	Flashman was born in 1822, so the present memoir was presumably written in 1913, two years before his death.
3.	The famous march, one of many John Brown songs sung in the U.S. Civil War, is said to have originated in “a sarcastic tune which men in a Massachusetts outfit made up as ‘a jibe’ against one Sergeant John Brown of Boston”. If so, it soon became associated with the famous abolitionist; a Union soldier, Private Warren Lee Goss, records that when the 12th Massachusetts Regiment marched down Broadway on July 24, 1861, they sang “the then new and always thrilling lyric, John Brown’s Body”. Five months later Mrs Julia Ward Howe (1819–1910), the author, reformer, and abolitionist, wrote new words to the old tune; they subsequently appeared in the Atlantic Monthly as “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”. One tradition (hinted at by Flashman) is that she had been scandalised by the words which she heard soldiers singing; the accepted story is that she and a party of friends were singing patriotic songs, and one of them suggested to her that new verses would be appropriate. (See Stephen B. Oates, To Purge This Land with Blood, 1970, quoting Boyd B. Stutler, “John Brown’s Body”; Warren Lee Goss, “Going to the Front”, in Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, vol. 1, ed. R. U. Johnson and C. C. Buel, 1887.)
4.	For evidence that Benjamin Franklin (“Agent No. 72”) and his assistant, Edward Bancroft, were working for British Intelligence during their time at the American Embassy in Paris, and passed information to London which resulted in heavy American shipping losses, see Richard Deacon, A History of British Secret Service, 1980.
5.	Flashman is habitually vague about dates, and it is impossible to say when he left Calcutta – it may have been late in 1858 or even early in 1859, but he was certainly at the Cape sometime in January or February of the new year. In that case, it seems probable that the stranded wreck was the Madagascar (351 tons), which ran ashore off Port Elizabeth on December 3, 1858. (See Marischal Murray, Ships and South Africa, 1933.)
6.	The self-destruction of the ’Zoza tribe (more usually spelled Xhosa or Amaxosa) began late in 1856, when the belief arose that spirits of the dead, speaking through the medium of a girl of the tribe, had promised that if all cattle and crops were destroyed, these would be replaced in abundance on a certain day, and the hated white men driven from the land. In obedience to their chief, the Xhosas destroyed their food supplies entirely, and in the famine which followed more than 60,000 are believed to have died. (See sources to Note 9.)
7.	In view of recent South African history, and the common belief that 1994 would be the milestone marking the introduction of universal suffrage, it is worth noting that in Cape Colony in the 1850s, under British rule, every man had the vote, regardless of race or colour. The only qualifications were birth in the Colony and financial condition set so low that many non-whites were enfranchised. Like many progressive features of the old British Empire, it is one that modern revisionists are either unaware of or choose to forget. (See sources to Note 9.)
8.	The pollution of the Thames and the anti-smoking campaign were perennial topics; the Act of Parliament removing the disabilities of the Jews had passed in July, 1858, and Lionel de Rothschild had become the first Jewish M.P.
9.	Flashman’s summary of South African affairs in 1859, if characteristically sketchy, is accurate and perceptive, and his portrait of the Cape Governor is fair; if anything, he gives him more sympathetic treatment than he usually metes out to imperial proconsuls, a class of whom he tended to take a jaundiced view.
	Sir George Grey (1812–98) was that peculiarly Victorian compound of the man of action, scholar, visionary, and maverick. His guiding principles were the welfare and progress of the people he was given to rule, and getting his own way, and he pursued them with an energy and impatience which frequently brought him into conflict with his superiors at home, and eventually brought his career to a premature close, which was his country’s loss, for he was one of the best. He left the army when he was twenty-three to explore north-western Australia, an adventure of extreme danger and hardship in which he skirmished with Aborigines, was wounded, lost his supplies, and finally tramped alone into Perth, so altered by suffering that he was unrecognisable. He was twenty-nine when he was appointed Governor of South Australia, and subsequently of New Zealand, where he defeated the Maoris, won their friendship, and established a popular and prosperous administration before being transferred to the Cape in 1854. There he prevented a Kaffir uprising, encouraged settlement, and acquired something rare, if not unique, in South African history – the trust and respect of Britons, Boers, and tribesmen alike. Foreseeing that the peaceful development of the country depended on recognising and balancing the interests of all three (particularly between the Boers and the black tribes) he worked tirelessly to bring about a confederation, won the support of the Boers of the Orange Free State and the British of the Cape, and would have succeeded but for the reluctance of the home government to assume further responsibility and expense in Southern Africa. His persistence caused offence at the Colonial Office (“a dangerous man”), and he was recalled in 1859, a few months after Flashman met him. Palmerston’s new administration reinstated him, but his plan of confederation was shelved. In 1861 he was again Governor of New Zealand, fought in the Maori wars (personally leading the attack and capture of their main stronghold), and was making progress towards a settlement between settlers and Maoris when, his highly individual style having given renewed offence in Whitehall, he was recalled. He was only fifty-five. The rest of his life was spent mostly in New Zealand. He left behind a standard work, Polynesian Mythology, and splendid libraries at Cape Town and Auckland, but his great achievement was that, whatever his chiefs at home thought, the people of all races and colours whom he governed were invariably sorry to see him go.
	A handsome, slightly-built man with a cold eye and a quiet voice, Grey seems to have been quite as assured and impatient of opposition as Flashman found him: an idealist, he had a strong ruthless streak, and his portraits do not suggest a man whom it would be safe to cross. During his final months at the Cape his health was poor, and his marital relations were approaching a crisis – something with which we may be sure Flashman had nothing to do, or he would certainly have told us about it. (See G. M. Theal, History of South Africa, vol. 3, “Cape Colony, 1846–60”, 1908; James Milne, Sir George Grey, the Romance of a Pro-consul, 1899; G. C. Henderson, Sir George Grey, 1907; James Collier, Life and Times of Sir George Grey, 1909; W. H. S. Bell, Bygone Days, reminiscences of pioneer life in Cape Colony from 1856, 1933; J. Noble, Descriptive Handbook of the Cape Colony, 1875.)
10.	The first ministry of Lord Palmerston, who had sent Flashman on secret service to India shortly before the great mutiny of 1857, had ended in February, 1858, when he was succeeded as Prime Minister by the Earl of Derby. Palmerston regained office in June, 1859, a few months after the meeting of Flashman and Sir George Grey at the Cape.
11.	The outdoor swimming pool was an occasional feature of private gardens at the Cape: the Constantia mansion, the first large country house in the Colony, dating from the seventeenth century, had one in its grounds. (See Alys Fane Trotter, Old Colonial Houses of the Cape of Good Hope, 1900.)
12.	A native of New England, especially a typical seafarer from the coast of Maine, reputed to be unusually tough and reactionary, and supposedly so-called because the region lay east and downwind of the main American Atlantic ports. The term was also applied to ships.
13.	There was no British Embassy in Washington at this time: H.M. Government was represented by a minister, not an ambassador – a diplomatic distinction which Flashman could not be expected to appreciate.
14.	If so, it was a slow passage; a clipper would have done it in half the time, given favourable weather, which Flashman’s ship does not seem to have had.
15.	Captain Robert (“Bully”) Waterman was one of the foremost clipper captains of the day, famous for his record-breaking runs in the Sea Witch between China and New York, and notorious for the brutal discipline he imposed on his crews. Flashman mentions him twice in earlier packets of the Papers, but there is no evidence that they ever met.
16.	There is something of a literary mystery here. The Knitting Swede’s hostelry is mentioned in The Blood Ship, published some time early in this century by Norman Springer, but I cannot recall whether it was located in Baltimore or not. However, the two bucko mates of The Blood Ship were certainly Fitzgibbon and Lynch – the names of the skipper and mate of the vessel which carried Flashman to America. These things can hardly be coincidental.
17.	A remark attributed to Senator David R. Atchison of Missouri, when urging on Border Ruffians before the sack of Lawrence, Kansas, headquarters of the Free Staters, on May 21, 1856.
18.	Crixus’s account and Flashman’s interpolations between them provide a rough but balanced biographical summary of John Brown up to the spring of 1859. Whether the famous abolitionist was a Mayflower descendant has been disputed, but he certainly came of old American stock. Born in Torrington, Connecticut, on May 9, 1800, he received a rudimentary education and worked at various rural trades with indifferent success; his business ventures ended in failure, and he was usually hard pressed for money. He married twice, and had twenty children. His hatred of slavery, inherited from his father and nourished by his own observations, took an active form when he was still in his twenties, and his home was a station on the Underground Railroad. In 1851, at Springfield, Massachusetts, he organised a black defence group, the League of Gileadites, to resist slave-catchers and prevent fugitives from being returned to the South. It is not certain when he conceived the idea of invading Virginia, but he was talking about it as early as 1847, and in the winter of 1854–5 was discussing a raid on Harper’s Ferry and making notes on guerrilla warfare from Stocqueler’s Life of the Duke of Wellington. At this time several of his sons, imbued with their father’s abolitionist zeal, went to Kansas, where the “slave or free territory” issue was coming to a head, and were soon followed by Brown himself, ostensibly to set up in business but in fact to fight on the Free State side. He soon became the most notorious of the Border irregulars, organising a guerrilla band called the Liberty Guards, with himself as captain and four of his sons, Owen, Frederick, Salmon, and John, junior, among his followers, and earning a fearsome reputation as a result of one savage exploit in the summer of 1856.
	The Pottawatomie Massacre took place on the night of May 24–25, and arose directly from the destruction of the town of Lawrence (see Note 17 above) and another incident on the following day. On May 22 an anti-slavery orator, Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts, denounced the Lawrence attack in the U.S. Senate, and was then assaulted by Representative Preston Brooks of South Carolina, who invaded the chamber and thrashed Sumner, who was seated at his desk, so brutally with his cane that the unfortunate Senator did not recover for two years. Brown, who had been too late to defend Lawrence, and was in a fury because the citizens had not put up a fight, was already contemplating retaliation against the pro-slavers when news of “Bully Brooks’s” outrage reached him on May 23. At this, according to his son Salmon, the old man “went crazy – crazy!”, and on being urged to use caution, cried: “Caution, caution, sir, I am eternally tired of hearing that word caution! It is nothing but the word for cowardice,” and set off to strike back at “the barbarians”. This consisted of descending on three houses along the Pottawatomie Creek, first murdering a pro-slavery man named Doyle and two of his sons, then another named Wilkinson, and finally one Sherman. The killings were carried out with the utmost brutality, the men being forced from their beds and, despite the pleas of wives and the presence of children, hustled out into the dark and literally hacked to pieces with sabres; fingers, hands, and arms were severed and skulls split. Owen and Salmon Brown killed the three Doyles, and Brown’s son-in-law, Henry Thompson, and a man named Theodore Weiner, murdered the two other men. Brown himself does not seem to have struck a blow, although he probably fired a single shot into the corpse of the oldest Doyle. Later, when his son Jason taxed him with the killings, Brown said: “I did not do it, but I approved of it”. Nor did he ever deny responsibility, and only once offered anything like an excuse for the crime: according to an old Kansas settler, Brown claimed that the five had been planning to kill him. “I was satisfied that each of them had committed murder in his heart … and I felt justified in having them killed.” This is doubtful, and even Brown’s most admiring biographers are at a loss when confronted with Pottawatomie; one suggests that he was in a trance, another refers to the murders as “executions”, but none can offer an acceptable explanation, let alone a defence. At the time, Crixus’s view of the affair was shared by many in the North, who believed that Brown was justified by necessity, and that his terrorist tactics and subsequent skirmishing against the pro-slavery forces were of critical importance in the Kansas struggle. Certainly Pottawatomie did nothing to lessen support for Brown among Northern liberals; some might condemn it, but others, especially the group known as the Secret Six (see Note 32), gave him moral and financial assistance, and the great mass of abolitionists regarded him as a champion. He continued to operate against the pro-slavery forces with some success before being driven from his base at Ossawatomie in a battle in which his son Frederick was killed. For almost three years thereafter Brown divided his time between campaigning for the abolitionist cause in the East, and preparing in the field for his projected invasion of Virginia.
	There are many biographies of Brown, and they cover the closing years of his life in detail, drawing on a wealth of contemporary sources. Indeed, there is almost an embarrassment of information; one writer, Villard, has even been able to compile a daily calendar of his life from mid-1855 to his death in December 1859. Most of the early biographies, including those by Sanborn and Redpath, who knew Brown personally, are friendly: one, by Peebles Wilson, is a raging denunciation. Of special interest is the autobiographical sketch written by Brown in 1857, which is the best source for his early life, and is quoted in full in Villard. (See O. G. Villard, John Brown, 1910 (the fullest account); Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, 1885 (Sanborn was a friend and leading supporter): James Redpath, The Public Life of Captain John Brown, 1860 (Redpath was a newspaperman who met Brown in the field); H. Peebles Wilson, John Brown, Soldier of Fortune, 1913; Barrie Stavis, John Brown, the Sword and the Word, 1870; Oates; R. D. Webb, Life and Letters of Captain John Brown, 1861; Louis Ruchames (ed.), A John Brown Reader, 1959; Allan Keller, Thunder at Harper’s Ferry, 1958.)
19.	Hugh Forbes, the British adventurer whom Brown hired as an instructor and military advisor at $100 a month, shared certain characteristics with Flashman; he was tall, handsome, soldierly, plausible, and probably something of a confidence man. He was born about 1812, had been a silk merchant in Italy, claimed to have fought under Garibaldi, and styled himself “Colonel”, but when Brown met him in New York in 1857 he was eking a bare living as a fencing-master, translator and occasional journalist. In Brown’s employ he worked on a manual of guerrilla tactics and produced a pamphlet apparently designed to lure U.S. soldiers to the abolitionist cause, but his chief talent was for absorbing money to support his family whom he described as starving in Paris. Eventually he and Brown fell out over alleged arrears of pay and, perhaps more seriously, the Harper’s Ferry project: Forbes was convinced that an attempt to rouse the slaves for a guerrilla campaign must fail, and proposed instead a series of “stampedes” in which small parties of slaves would be run off from properties close to the North-South border, thus eventually making slave-holding impossible in the region, and forcing the “slave frontier” gradually southwards. It was at least a feasible plan, but Brown rejected it. Forbes then began writing to Brown’s leading supporters, from many of whom he had begged money, hinting that unless further payments were made he would divulge the invasion plan, a threat which he carried out in the spring of 1858, when he accosted two Republican Senators, Seward and Wilson, on the floor of the Senate, and told them what was planned. The Senators, both devoted abolitionists, seem to have kept the information to themselves, but warned Brown’s supporters, and the project was postponed. (See Villard; Sanborn.)
20.	The marble frontage, and later clues in Flashman’s narrative, suggest that the hotel was Brown’s, at the junction of Pennsylvania Avenue and Sixth Street. It was much patronised by Southerners. (See Margaret Leech, Reveille in Washington, 1942.)
21.	The Parcae, or Fates, of classical mythology were Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the arbiters of birth, life, and death. The dandy’s little joke lay in suggesting that they should have called themselves Eumenides (“the good-natured ones”), the name ironically applied by the Greeks to the Furies. The white hoods and the name “Kuklos” are strongly reminiscent of the infamous Ku Klux Klan, founded by Confederate ex-officers in Tennessee after the Civil War; originally a social and literary club, it became an anti-negro terrorist organisation which flourished intermittently into modern times. It certainly owed its name to the Greek kuklos, a circle (not, as the fanciful theory has it, to the triple click of a rifle being cocked), but there is no evidence either of its existence before 1866, or to suggest that it had its origins in the kind of Southern intelligence network which Atropos described to Flashman. The identities of “Clotho” and “Lachesis” cannot even be guessed at.
22.	Telemaque (“Denmark”) Vesey and Nat Turner led the two most notable slave revolts, in 1822 and 1831 respectively. Vesey, a mulatto who had bought his freedom with lottery winnings, organised a plot to take Charleston, but was betrayed by a slave out of affection for his owner, and went to the gallows with more than thirty black comrades; several whites who were implicated in the plot were imprisoned. Nat Turner, a black lay preacher who was inspired by the Bible to believe himself the chosen deliverer of his people, led a rebellion of some seventy slaves at Southampton, Virginia, in which more than fifty whites and twice as many blacks died; Turner himself was executed. How many other smaller outbreaks took place it is impossible to say; no doubt some went unrecorded. Unrest was certainly more widespread than Southerners cared to admit; the contention that slaves were happy or resigned concealed a genuine fear which was reflected in strict laws against black assembly and education, patrols, curfews, and the kind of savage treatment dealt out to a band of about seventy Maryland runaways who were executed or sold down the river in 1845. Rumours spread of a general slave conspiracy in the years before the Civil War, a by-product perhaps of Southern fears of the growing abolitionist feeling in the North, for they seem to have been unfounded.
23.	If Flashman and Annette had a table for two, as he seems to suggest, they were singularly favoured, since most American hotels of the period favoured the common table – “the comfort of a quiet table to yourself … is quite unknown”, complained a British traveller of the period. “The living [dining arrangements] at these hotels is profuse to a degree, but, generally speaking, most disagreeable: first, because the meal is devoured with a rapidity which a pack of fox-hounds, after a week’s fast, might in vain attempt to rival; and secondly, because it is impossible to serve up dinners for hundreds, without nine-tenths thereof being cold.” (See Henry A. Murray, Lands of the Slave and the Free, 1855.)
24.	Stephen A. Douglas (1813–61), leader of the Democrats in the North, was a portly, dynamic figure known to admirers as the “Little Giant” and to enemies as the “Dropsied Dwarf” (he was only five feet tall), and best remembered for the debates in which he successfully defended his seat as Senator for Illinois against Lincoln in 1858. Douglas was to the fore in the slavery question; his first wife was the daughter of a slave-holder, but Douglas himself was a champion of “popular sovereignty”, holding that it was up to the residents to decide whether a state should be slave or free, and his declaration that any territory could exclude slavery irrespective of the Supreme Court’s ruling cost him the support of many Southern Democrats. The party split before the Presidential election of 1860, with the Deep South States breaking away, and although Douglas was nominated as one of the candidates against Lincoln, he was heavily beaten. His second wife, Adele, was a noted beauty and leader of Washington society in the years before the Civil War.
25.	The cynic was Anthony Trollope, who gave this unflattering view of New York in his North America, 1862.
26.	Flashman’s impressions of New York are echoed by other British travellers of the mid-nineteenth century, as well as by American writers. Like them, he was struck by the size and up-to-date appointments of the hotels, with their hundreds of apartments, half-hour laundry services, no-smoking areas for ladies, dining-rooms which seemed to foreshadow mass-production, peanut shells, cigar fumes, and continual clamour and bustle which many European visitors, used to smaller and cosier establishments, found trying. Nor is he alone in his admiration of the city’s women, and the freedom and independence which they enjoyed (and asserted) compared to their European sisters; Trollope had the same experience of paying ladies’ fares on the omnibuses, and James Silk Buckingham, an English observer of the previous decade, enthused at some length about their beauty (“almost uniformly good-looking … slender and of good symmetry … a more than usual degree of feminine delicacy … a greater number of pretty forms and faces than [in England] … dressed more in the extreme of fashion …”). He also noted the deference shown to them by American men, and their dependence on it. A contemporary of Flashman’s, G. Ellington, devoted a long book to the city’s women of every class and kind, from the society set of Fifth and Madison Avenues to the fallen angels of the House of the Good Shepherd; he is a mine of information on fashions, parties, amusements, social behaviour (and misbehaviour), shopping, menus, and polite trivia, as well as on the female underworld – the “cruisers” of Broadway, the down-town cigar-store girls, the all-women gambling and billiard halls, and the drug scene. From him we learn of the popularity among society ladies and their imitators of powdered hands, the Grecian bend, dancing “the German”, blonde hair, and exaggerated high heels; he knows the price of everything from Murray Hill boarding-school fees to the going rate paid by white slavers for “recruits”, and presumably is a reliable guide to what was “done” – going to Saratoga and the White Mountains in summer – and what was “not done” – being seen anywhere south of 14th Street. Among other commentators, Theodore Roosevelt is critical of ’50s New York (which he was not old enough to remember personally), deploring its vulgarity, devotion to money, and slavish copying of Paris fashion, and is interesting on the “swamping” of “native American stock” (Dutch-Anglo-Scots-German) by Irish immigration, the growth of Roman Catholicism, the New York mob’s tendency to riot, the corruption of local politics, and the attempt by its Democrat mayor to align the city with the South in the Civil War by seceding from the Union and establishing the commonwealth of “Tri-Insula” (the three islands of Manhattan, Long, and Staten). The Hon. Henry Murray, whose strictures on public dining arrangements are mentioned in Note 23, is an entertaining source of domestic detail – barbers’ shops, hotel security, Bibles in bedrooms, and bridal suites (“the want of delicacy that suggested the idea is only equalled by the want of taste with which it is carried out … a matrimonial couch, hung with white silk curtains, and blazing with a bright jet of gas from each bed-post!”). Alexander McKay is worth reading on Anglo-American attitudes in general, and American sensitivity to British opinion in particular: his reporting of conversations is first-class. (See Murray; Trollope; James Silk Buckingham, America, 1841; G. Ellington, The Women of New York, 1869; Theodore Roosevelt, New York, 1895; Alexander McKay, The Western World, 1850.)
27.	The enamelling studio, in which ladies had their faces, shoulders, and busts coated with a mixture of arsenic and white lead, was the forerunner of the modern beauty salon. To judge from advertisements of the time, the range of cosmetics, treatments, and appliances for enhancing the female face and figure was almost as extensive as it is now; Flashman’s description is accurate, and the prices he quotes tally with those of one of the Broadway studios. What the effect of an application designed to last for a full year must have been can only be imagined. (See Ellington.)
28.	Allan Pinkerton (1819–84), the most famous of all private detectives and founder of the agency which bears his name, was born in Glasgow, the son of a police sergeant. He trained as a cooper, and became an enthusiastic member of the Chartist movement for workers’ rights, taking part in the Glasgow spinners’ strike and in the attempt to free a Chartist leader from Monmouth Castle, Newport, in 1839, when shots were exchanged between rioters and police. It was about this time that Flashman was engaged in training militia at Paisley, and was briefly involved in a disturbance at a mill belonging to his future father-in-law, John Morrison (see Flashman). Subsequently Pinkerton’s Chartist activities took him into hiding to avoid arrest, and in 1842 he emigrated to Chicago. He worked as a cooper at Dundee, Illinois, but crime prevention was evidently in his blood, and after running down a counterfeiting gang he was appointed deputy sheriff of Kane County, and later of Cook County, Chicago. Here he organised his detective agency in 1852–3, and had considerable success against railway and express company thieves. He foiled an assassination attempt against President-elect Lincoln in 1861, and in the Civil War became effective head of the U.S. secret service, but while he was an efficient spycatcher – he broke the Confederate espionage ring operated in Washington by the glamorous Rose Greenhow (see also Note 43) – he was less successful as a gatherer of military intelligence, and his over-estimation of Confederate strength in the peninsular campaign contributed to a Union reverse. He was eventually replaced, but his agency continued to flourish; one of its principal successes, ironically enough, was against a working-class movement, the Molly Maguires, who terrorised Pennsylvania coalfields for more than twenty years before being penetrated by a Pinkerton agent.
	Almost from his arrival in America Pinkerton had been a dedicated abolitionist and Underground Railroad agent. His house in Chicago was used as a “station” on the escape route to Canada, and after John Brown’s Missouri raid of December, 1858, in which eleven slaves were rescued, Pinkerton met them at Chicago, provided them with a railroad car and $500 which he raised at a meeting by personally taking round the hat, and saw them, “rejoicing at the safety of the Union Jack”, across the Canadian border.
	Physically he was as Flashman describes him – dour, tough, small but burly, and of nondescript appearance; in his best-known picture, taken during a meeting with Lincoln, he looks like a discontented tramp with a conspicuously clean collar.
	George McWatters, of the New York Metropolitan Police, was another Scot, born probably in Kilmarnock about 1814, and brought up in Ulster. He emigrated to the U.S. in the mid-1840s, studied law and collected debts in Philadelphia, took part (unsuccessfully) in the California gold rush, and settled in New York as a theatrical agent, his principal client being Flashman’s old paramour, Lola Montez. In 1858 he joined the New York police, and recorded his twelve years’ service in a wonderfully self-admiring autobiography which is nonetheless a mine of curious information about the New York underworld of his day. (See J. D. Horan and H. Swiggett, The Pinkerton Story, 1952; Allan Pinkerton, Thirty Years a Detective, 1884; Mrs Rose Greenhow, My Imprisonment, and the First Year of Abolition Rule at Washington, 1863; George S. McWatters, Knots Untied, or Ways and By-ways in the Hidden Life of American Detectives, 1873.)
29.	Flashman’s reaction to the hamburger is what one would have expected. He would not know it by that name; the expression “Hamburg steak” does not seem to have come into use until later in the century.
30.	For once we are able to assign a definite date to an incident in the Flashman Papers. Senator Seward, the Republican leader, sailed from New York for Europe on May 7, 1859, on the ocean steamer Ariel, receiving a tumultuous send-off from two Republican committees and three hundred well-wishers “with shouts and music, bells and whistles, dipping ensigns, waving hats, hands, and handkerchiefs”. (Frederic Bancroft, The Life of William H. Seward, 1900; G. G. Van Deusen, William Henry Seward, 1967.)
31.	William Henry Seward (1801–72), who had been a school-teacher and lawyer before embarking on a political career, was an implacable enemy of slavery. As Governor of New York he had refused to move against those who rescued slaves, passed laws to hinder the recapture of runaways, and in a memorable speech in 1858 coined the phrase “irrepressible conflict”, which “means that the U.S. must and will, sooner or later, become either entirely a slave-holding or entirely a free-labour nation”. His nomination as Republican candidate in the 1860 Presidential election was widely taken for granted, and when he visited Europe in 1859 he was received with the attention due to a President-elect: as he had forecast to Flashman, he met the Queen, Lord Palmerston (who had just become Prime Minister for the second time), the Foreign Secretary Lord John Russell, Gladstone, Lord Macaulay, and many other prominent figures. When the Republicans met in Chicago in the following year Seward was still firm favourite, but although he won the first two ballots he was defeated on the third by the comparatively unknown Abraham Lincoln, the “prairie lawyer” as Seward called him. He became Lincoln’s Secretary of State and rendered vital service to his country in the Trent Affair of 1861, when the seizure by an American warship of a British vessel carrying Confederate diplomats to Europe caused a crisis which might well have led to war. Three things helped to a peaceful solution: the breakdown of the transatlantic cable made hasty communication impossible; Prince Albert and the Queen moderated the tone of the British Government’s demand for the release with apologies of the diplomats, and Seward performed the apparently impossible by climbing down without losing face.
	It was a turning-point in American history, for if the U.S. had refused to yield, and war had followed, she could not have hoped to fight Britain and the Confederacy together; the Civil War would have been lost and Southern independence assured. Yet yielding would have outraged the American public, which was jubilant at Britain’s discomfiture, and might have weakened Lincoln’s government to the point where it could no longer save the Union. That Britain was for once entirely in the right, naturally made the problem no easier. Seward solved it with a reply to the British demand which was a masterpiece of flannel, confused the question brilliantly (he even contended that the diplomats’ persons were contraband), managed to suggest that America had won the argument, and concluded by saying that the diplomats would be “cheerfully liberated”. He heaped coals of fire on the lion’s head by granting free passage across American soil to the British expeditionary force which had been sent to Canada in anticipation of war with the U.S., but had been forced to put in at an American port because the St Lawrence was ice-bound. Seward’s other claim to fame is as the purchaser of Alaska in 1867.
	Flashman paints a fair picture of the shrewd, egotistical little statesman of whom it was said, justly or not, that he never spoke from conviction. His passion for cigars, and for informal behaviour (one observer described it as “lawless”) is well attested; in private he was genial, given to cursing, and to kicking off his shoes. He could not be described as an Anglophile, yet he obviously took entirely for granted what came to be called the “special relationship”; references to the natural “sympathy and affection” between the “European and American branches of the British race” are to be found in his speeches and letters. (See Bancroft, Van Deusen, and S. E. Morison, Oxford History of the American People, vol. 2, 1965. William Howard Russell describes an interview with Seward in My Diary North and South, 1862.)
32.	The Secret Six were Dr Samuel Howe, a devoted freedom fighter who had served in the Greek army against the Turks and aided the Poles against the Russians before becoming a pioneer in the education of the deaf and blind; Gerrit Smith, philanthropist, reformer, and Congressman who had run for the governorship of New York; Theodore Parker, a leading theological scholar and a tireless and influential abolitionist; George Stearns, a Boston businessman who, with Smith, was Brown’s principal source of funds; Thomas Higginson, a fiery clergyman who became colonel of the first black regiment during the Civil War; and Franklin Sanborn, schoolmaster, poet, and author, who was Brown’s biographer and most devoted supporter. (See Villard; Oates; Sanborn.)
33.	“Young Stearns”, the twelve-year-old son of George L. Stearns, one of the Secret Six, had given all his pocket money to John Brown two years earlier, to help the anti-slavery cause. In return, Brown wrote the boy a remarkable letter, his famous “Autobiography”, in which he describes his childhood in picturesque detail mingled with sound moral advice. The “Autobiography”, addressed to “My Dear Young Friend” and dated Red Rock, Iowa, 15th July, 1857, was much admired by Brown’s supporters as evidence of his warm human qualities, but excited the scorn of Brown’s fiercest critic, Peebles Wilson, who found it “valuable as an exhibit of his scheming to finance [his] operations”. No doubt Brown knew it would impress young Stearns’s parents, on whom he depended for funds, but that is not to say that he was being insincere, or was unmoved by the boy’s gift. Anyway, it is a fascinating document; simple, homely, naive perhaps, eccentrically punctuated, and quite beautifully written. One would have to be a hardened cynic to be altogether untouched by it, and if, as Wilson suggests, it was written for sordid motives, then Brown, in addition to being a fine English stylist, carried hypocrisy into the realms of high art. (See Peebles Wilson; Villard; Sanborn.)
34.	There are two words to describe John Brown’s appearance: grim and formidable. Even allowing for the fact that photography of the time required the sitter to hold his pose for some seconds, which often resulted in a fixed stare, the face that looks out of his pictures is a daunting one; the long Anglo-Saxon head, prominent nose and ears, wide mouth set like a trap, stern certainty of expression, and above all, the level implacable eyes (“piercing blue-grey, flashing with energy or drooping and hooded like an eagle”) bring to mind immediately words like Ironside, Yankee, Puritan, and Covenanter. It is, if not handsome (as most of his sons were), an extremely fine face, and it is easy to understand the spell that he seems to have cast over his followers and supporters; equally easy, too, to see why he was called a fanatic. The most impressive portraits show him clean-shaven: the early photograph, taken when he was in his mid-forties, one hand raised in pledge while the other holds the white flag; the imposing Boston portrait of 1858, by J. J. Hawes; the daguerreotype of 1857, in which he looks drawn and tired – quite the least convincing is the full-bearded painting by N. B. Onthank, based on a photo taken in the month when Flashman met him; by the time of his famous raid Brown had trimmed his beard short. Although only five feet nine inches in height, he looked taller, despite the stoop of his later years; he walked slowly, had a deep, metallic voice, normally wore a “serious and patient” expression, and had a fine head of dark brown hair sprinkled with grey.
35.	This promise of Brown’s explains what would otherwise have been an insoluble mystery: why, in the highly detailed records of the Harper’s Ferry raid, and in all the correspondence of John Brown and his associates, is there no mention of “Comber” and Joe Simmons? Plainly, Brown kept his word – as did those American agents and officers who were well aware of the presence in Brown’s band, and at the Ferry, of these two additional raiders.
36.	Brown visited London in 1849 on a wool-marketing venture which proved a costly failure. He travelled to Yorkshire, and spoke highly of English farming, stone-masonry, and roast beef, but thought the horses inferior to those of the U.S. He had time for a brief trip to the Continent, where he visited Paris, Hamburg, Brussels, and the field of Waterloo. The “poodle hair” story is to be found in his biographies.
37.	Undoubtedly Mrs Julia Ward Howe, who two years later became famous as the author of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”. (See Note 3.)
38.	This grim joke of Brown’s was obviously one he enjoyed repeating; it occurs in a different context in his biographies, as do many of the remarks which Flashman reports from their first meeting at Sanborn’s house. Artemus Ward’s description of Brown appeared in the Cleveland Plain Dealer of March 22, 1859.
39.	From the martial hymn, “Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Gates of Brass”, by James Montgomery (1771–1854).
40.	Jerry (Jeremiah Goldsmith) Anderson echoed his words to Flashman in a letter of July 5, 1859: “Their cries for help go out to the universe daily and hourly … there are a few who dare to answer this call … in a manner that will make this land of liberty and equality shake to the centre.”
41.	The speaker may have been Henry David Thoreau, the celebrated American writer, who makes the comparison in his “Plea for Captain John Brown” (A Yankee in Canada, 1866). Thoreau first met Brown in 1857, and became an immediate admirer, writing of his “rare common sense … a man of ideas and principles” and “his pent-up fire”. He also coined the description quoted earlier by Flashman: “A volcano with an ordinary chimney flue”.
42.	The first of Brown’s anecdotes is to be found in his own “Autobiography”, the second in Villard.
43.	It is remarkable that Flashman never mentions “the Senator” by name, and it is possible that he never knew it, but this was Henry Wilson of Massachusetts. The physical description fits, and Senator Wilson described his meeting with Brown at the Bird Club (an abolitionist group who dined regularly at a Boston hotel) when he testified before the Senate Investigating (Mason) Committee after the Harper’s Ferry tragedy; his account echoes Flashman’s. Whether the warning note reached him or not is unimportant; the date apart, it merely confirmed what he knew already, for he was one of the Republican Senators (Seward being the other) to whom Forbes had disclosed the plot a year earlier. Wilson was a fervent abolitionist, a former farm labourer and shoemaker who became chairman of the Senate Military Affairs Committee during the Civil War. He was one of many leading politicians (President Buchanan and Seward were others) who came under the spell of the magnetic Mrs Greenhow, the Washington hostess who was also a highly successful Confederate spy. When she was arrested by Pinkerton, love-letters signed “H” were found among her papers, but hand-writing experts decided that they were not Wilson’s, which in view of his official position was just as well. (See Leech.)
44.	Flashman is slightly misquoting Sir Francis Drake’s famous dispatch to Walsingham: “There must be a beginning of any great matter, but the continuing unto the end until it be thoroughly finished yields the true glory.”
45.	Newby’s Christian name was Dangerfield, but he may have been known jokingly as “Dangerous”. The average age of Brown’s followers was twenty-five; only two of them were over thirty, and this has led some commentators into the error of underrating them. In fact, they were a formidable party (in spite of Flashman’s occasional disparagements) with no lack of experience of irregular warfare, and the standard of their weapon handling and marksmanship appears to have been high. The ironical nickname “pet lambs”, which occurs in “John Brown’s Body”, speaks for itself. (For a full list of Brown’s band, see Appendix III.)
46.	Frederick Douglass (1817–95) was born in Maryland, the son of a white father and a Negro-Indian mother. He escaped from slavery in 1838, worked as a stevedore and handyman, and became a lecturer for the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society; his success as a speaker and journalist, combined with his fine presence and polished manners, gave rise to the suggestion that he had never been a slave at all, but he refuted this by publishing a detailed autobiography. He was frequently assaulted by pro-slavery supporters, for he went out of his way to fight segregation, and was also in danger from slave-catchers, but purchased his freedom in 1846 with funds raised on a visit to Britain. He published an abolitionist newspaper, The North Star, campaigned for women’s suffrage, was active in black recruiting during the Civil War, and held the post of marshal of the District of Columbia before becoming U.S. Minister to Haiti. As Flashman says, he was the most famous black man in America; as a campaigner for his people he was to the nineteenth century what Martin Luther King was to the twentieth.
47.	The “mutiny”, Brown’s resignation as leader, and his re-election, took place more or less as Flashman describes. Villard says that “twice at least” there was almost a “revolt” against the plan. Watson Brown’s letters to his wife at this time give an interesting indication of the feeling at Kennedy Farm; in them he describes the suicide of a local slave whose wife had been sold, and the murders of five other slaves, and says: “I cannot come home as long as such things are done here,” but it seems plain that, like some of his companions, he regarded Harper’s Ferry as a death-trap.
48.	Francis Meriam, the son of an abolitionist family, had made previous attempts to join Brown, but he was a frail, unbalanced youth, and according to Owen Brown his only qualification was his hatred of slavery. In September, 1859, he heard from a black freedman in Boston, Lewis Hayden, that Brown was short of money, and resolved to contribute part of a recent inheritance to the cause; he arrived at Harper’s Ferry on the day before the raid, and was brought to the farm – by Kagi, according to Flashman, by one of Brown’s sons, according to Villard.
49.	If Flashman’s map of Harper’s Ferry is primitive and incomplete, it should be remembered that he was drawing it more than half a century later, and relying entirely on his memory of only a small part of the town, observed mostly at night and in a state of some alarm. It was a curious-looking place that he saw in 1859, half-village, half-armoury, standing on its peninsula surrounded by heights, and enclosed along its river banks by the tracks of two railways, the Winchester & Potomac and the Baltimore & Ohio, which ran on trestles and stone embankments designed to prevent flooding; six years later it had been reduced to ruin by nine major Civil War actions fought in the vicinity, and with the old landmarks gone it is not surprising that most historians of the Brown raid have confined themselves to written descriptions, or that Flashman’s rough sketch leaves much to be desired. For example, in the area marked “Town”, where he has shown a bare right angle of shops and houses, there were many more buildings behind, as there were between the arsenal and the rifle works; there were also some minor buildings between the Wager House and the armoury railings, close to the tracks, and beside Gait’s saloon on the Shenandoah shore. He has forgotten that the arsenal and the large buildings adjoining (formerly an arsenal, then a storehouse) were within a railed enclosure, and has erred in showing the Shenandoah bridge farther downstream than it actually was. But despite these flaws, his map is accurate enough in its essentials – the relative positions of the Wager House, the armoury gates and engine-house, the arsenal, Galt’s saloon, the railway lines, and the forked covered bridge across the Potomac – as I have been able to verify by comparison with the U.S. Government Printing Office maps of 1859, made available to me through the kindness of Jeff Bowers and Kyle McGrogan of the Harpers Ferry National Historical Park. (See GPO publications, “John Brown’s Raid” and Harpers Ferry pamphlets of 1981 and 1993; Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, October 29, 1859; Dave Gilbert, A Walker’s Guide to Harper’s Ferry, and photographs and illustrations in Villard and others.)
50.	“Old soldier” was a natural mistake on Hashman’s part. Colonel Lewis Washington, great-grandnephew of George Washington, behaved with soldierly courage throughout the Harper’s Ferry raid, but in fact he held his military title as an aide to the Governor of Virginia. (See Keller.)
51.	It was a strange chance that brought two of America’s great military heroes together at a time when both were still virtually unknown. Robert Edward Lee (1807–70), a lieutenant-colonel of cavalry with a sound but unremarkable record as a military engineer and superintendent of West Point Military Academy, happened to be in Washington on leave from Texas in October, 1859; James Ewell Brown Stuart (1833–64), a subaltern who had invented a patent device for attaching a sabre to a belt, was waiting in the hope of showing it to the Secretary for War when news came of the Harper’s Ferry crisis and he was abruptly despatched to summon Lee to the White House. When Lee was sent to deal with Brown’s raid, Stuart accompanied him as aide – a curious beginning to a famous association. Only a few years later, Lee, as commander-in-chief of the Confederate armies, was being hailed by many as the greatest captain since Wellington, a reputation which his surrender to Grant at Appomattox did nothing to diminish, and “Jeb” Stuart’s skill and daring had made him the outstanding cavalry general of the U.S. Civil War; Lee called him “the eyes of the army”. (See Captain Robert E. Lee, Recollections and Letters of General Robert E. Lee, 1904, and works cited in Note 57.)
	Flashman, who served on both sides in the Civil War, as a Confederate staff colonel and as a major in the Union forces, with whom he won the Congressional Medal of Honor (mysteries which will no doubt be explained when the relevant packet of is Papers comes to light), seems to have known both men well. That he rode with Stuart is already established (see his interview with President Grant in Flashman and the Redskins). He refers to Lee as “my old chief” in the present volume, and in an earlier one (Flashman) recalls a conversation which suggests that they were more than official acquaintances.
52.	The young woman who intervened on Thompson’s behalf was Miss Christina Fouke (not “Foulkes”), sister of the Wager House’s proprietor. In a letter to the St Louis Republican she explained that she wanted to see the law take its course, and to prevent any outrage in the hotel.
53.	Although Flashman did not know it, his order for breakfasts for the raiders and hostages had been filled by the hotel, not without reluctance. The dishes were carried to the armoury by waiters, but Brown, Washington, and another hostage ate nothing, apparently suspecting that the food might have been poisoned.
54.	In fact there were eleven hostages in the engine-house, chosen by Brown as being the most important of the thirty-odd whom he had taken prisoner. The remainder were left in the watch-room, which was attached to the engine-house but had no communicating door.
55.	In view of Brown’s religious upbringing, it is not surprising that he was familiar with the famous last words of Bishop Hugh Latimer, burned at the stake in 1555: “Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England as shall never be put out.”
56.	Flashman’s memory must be playing him false here. There may have been a lantern in the engine-house during the parley with Captain Sinn, but Brown would hardly have left it burning afterwards to assist the besieging marksmen. Whatever illumination there was probably came from the engine-house stove.
57.	J. E. B. Stuart described the parley at the engine-house door in a letter to his mother, and seems to make it clear that this was his only interview with Brown. However, Captain Dangerfield, clerk of the armoury, who was one of the hostages in the engine-house, and gave a detailed account of his experiences to the Century Magazine, states that Stuart made an earlier visit to the engine-house during the night with a demand for surrender, and said that he would return at dawn for a reply. Dangerfield’s recollections are so convincing – he talked at length with Brown during the night, and gives a vivid description of the fighting and final storming of the engine-house – that it is difficult to know what to make of this discrepancy, unless Dangerfield confused Stuart with Captain Sinn, who as we know called on Brown to surrender during the night. (Sanborn; H. B. McClellan, Life and Campaigns of J. E. B. Stuart, 1885; John W. Thomason, Jeb Stuart, 1930.)
58.	Messervy was right. There was some trade in Harper’s Ferry souvenirs, including fakes of the pikes with which Brown had intended to arm the slaves.
59.	“There have been few more dramatic scenes in American history,” wrote O. G. Villard of the extraordinary interview with John Brown which took place only a few hours after his capture. It was recorded by a reporter from the New York Herald, and the essentials are given in Sanborn. What must strike anyone who reads it is Brown’s complete composure and alertness throughout; considering his wounded condition, it was a remarkable performance. Once or twice he gives a sharp retort to an aggressive question, but for the rest he is unfailingly courteous, measured, and even good-humoured. The impression he made on his interrogators was profound, and the report of Governor Wise of Virginia is particularly significant in view of the controversy about Brown’s sanity:
	They are mistaken who take Brown to be a madman. He is a bundle of the best nerves I ever saw … a man of clear head, of courage, fortitude and simple ingenuousness. He is cool, collected, and indomitable.
	Flashman’s brief version of the interview corresponds with the Herald report, but he differs on small points from Harper’s Weekly, which says that Brown’s hair “was a mass of clotted gore” and that “his speech was frequently interrupted by deep groans, reminding me of the agonised growl of a ferocious beast.”
60.	Because the Marines had been ordered to wear full dress, Lieutenant Green was carrying only a light ceremonial sword. This almost certainly prevented his killing Brown in the engine-house.
61.	Political reaction to the raid was predictable. Stephen Douglas spoke for the Democrats when he called it the inevitable result of Republican policy. The Republican leaders denounced it and disclaimed all responsibility, but could not deny their sympathy with Brown’s cause, if not with his methods. Lincoln thought it right that he should hang “even though he agreed with us in thinking slavery wrong. That cannot excuse violence, bloodshed and treason.” Seward condemned the raid as a criminal act of sedition and treason, but could pity the raiders “because they acted under delirium”. Neither statement did anything to mollify a South furious at the discovery that wealthy and influential Northerners like the Secret Six and others had been Brown’s paymasters. For their part, three of the Six took prompt evasive action: Sanborn decamped to Canada, but soon returned and was briefly arrested; Dr Howe and George Stearns followed him and stayed away until after Brown’s execution. Of the other three, Theodore Parker was dying in Europe; Thomas Higginson, the most militant of the Six, stayed put and tried, with Sanborn, to organise Brown’s escape (see Note 62); Gerrit Smith went temporarily mad and spent six weeks in an asylum. Of all Brown’s supporters, Frederick Douglass had most to fear; within hours of the raid a warrant was out for his arrest on charges of murder, treason, and inciting slave revolt, and he fled to Canada on the day after the raid, and subsequently to Britain.
62.	Plotting to rescue Brown began within a few days of his capture. A group who included two of the Six, Higginson and Sanborn, commissioned one of Brown’s defence counsel to investigate the possibility of an escape, but Brown himself refused to be party to any such attempt. Allan Pinkerton may also have considered the possibility of a jail-break; his biographer quotes him as follows: “Had it not been for the excessive watchfulness [of Brown’s captors] … the pages of American history would never have been stained with the record of his execution.”