Showing posts with label Charles Gordon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Charles Gordon. Show all posts

Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Old General What’s-his-name



      “Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “I believe I know this chap — but no, it can’t be, surely! Only he’s uncommonly like that old general . . . oh, what’s-his-name? You know made such a hash of the Khartoum business, with Gordon . . . yes, and years ago he won a great name in Russia, and the Mutiny — V.C. and knighthood — it’s on the tip of my tongue —”


Flashman and the Tiger, p.310, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 20 April 2012

Press-ganged



. . . I knew dam’ well it would run around Horse Guards and the clubs like wildfire in the morning . . . 
     “I say — you know Chinese Gordon's gone to the Sudan! Fact — and taken Flashman with him! Met him quite by chance at the station, told Wolseley and Cambridge he must have him along, wouldn’t dream of facing the Mahdi without him, They gave him his way, of course but wondered what Flashman, who’s retired, would think of being press-ganged at a moment’s notice. D’you what Flash Harry said, cool as you please? ‘Well, the least you can do, Gordon, is pay for my blasted ticket!’”


Flashman and the Tiger, pp.197-8, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 10 February 2012

The Mad Sapper



Well, soldiering under Joe Wolseley had been bad enough, but a at least he was sane. Gordon? I'd as soon go to war with the town drunk. The man wasn't safe — sticking forks in people and scattering tracts around railway carriages and accosting perfect strangers to see if they'd met Jesus lately, I ask you! No a holiday abroad was indicated before the Mad Sapper came recruiting.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.49, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Thursday, 9 February 2012

Contemplating the infinite



Hell of a place the Sudan, all rock and sand and thorn and the most monstorous savages in creation; Charley Gordon, my China acquaintance, had governed it in the 70s, and spent most of his time poring over the scriptures and chasing slavers before retiring to Palestine to watch rocks and contemplate the infinite.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.48, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Monday, 4 July 2011

Worth an extra division



      I ain’t one of your by jingoes, and I won’t swear that the British soldier is braver than any other — or even, as Charley Gordon said, that he’s brave for a little while longer. But I will swear that there’s no soldier on earth who believes so strongly in the courage of the men alongside him — and that’s worth an extra division any day. Provided you’re not standing alongside me, that is.


Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.255, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.



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Friday, 28 January 2011

The wages of ambition






      I watched his sedan jogging away across the plain in the wake of his tatterdemalion regiment, and thought, well, there’s another damned fool gone to collect the wages of ambition. I was right — and wrong. He found his bed in the paddy, as I’d foretold, and hardly anyone remembers even his name nowadays, but you may say without him Chinese Gordon might never have had a look-in.

Flashman and the Dragon, p.143, Fontana Paperback edition, 1986.



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Monday, 21 June 2010

Club members



      I’d never seen this before, although I’ve seen it more times than I care to count since – one man, mad as a hatter and drunk with pride, sweeping sane heads away against their better judgement. Chinese Gordon could do it, and Yakub Beg the Kirghiz; so could J.E.B. Stuart, and that almighty maniac George Custer. They and Brooke could have formed a club.


Flashman's Lady, p.139, Pan edition, 1979.



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Wednesday, 4 November 2009

A windy streak



I’ve often wondered since, if chaps like Chinese Gordon and Bobs and Custer always went about feeling the way I did that night – not knowing what fear was? It would account for a lot, you know. But God help anyone who’s born that way; I’m sorry for ’em. You can’t know any real peace of mind, I think, unless you’ve got a windy streak in you.



Flashman at the Charge, p.284, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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