SIR EVELYN BARING ARRIVES AT CAIRO
THE events briefly narrated in the last chapter will explain the
bitterness of heart with which in the late summer of 1883 I once more
prepared to leave England for Egypt on my road to India. What little
belief I may have retained in the honour or indeed the common honesty of
Mr. Gladstone’s Government in its relations with the unfortunate people,
which it had first passed under the harrow of its arms and then mocked
with the jibes of its diplomacy, had given place in me to a resentment
which seemed to impose it as a duty henceforth of my life to take sides
with the poor Nile dwellers against their European betrayers, and to do
my utmost to counterwork the financial and Foreign Office rogues in
their design of perpetuating their subjection.
In Egypt itself there seemed little for the present to accomplish. With
Churchill’s help I had succeeded in putting a stop to the worst excesses
of the restored regime. Malet and Colvin were both being removed to less
dangerous spheres of official activity, and the appointment of Major
Baring in their place at Cairo seemed a guarantee against any violent
renewal. Baring, who was afterwards to be Lord Cromer, had a reputation
at that time for large-mindedness which imposed upon the public, in
spite of his financial connections, and caused it to be believed that he
would do his best to hasten, not delay, the evacuation of Cairo. He was
supposed to represent Mr. Gladstone’s policy of a reconstruction of the
Khedivial autonomy on a basis of free institutions as declared in his
famous speech of 9th August, when he promised that “having given Egypt a
fair start England would wish her God speed.” It is worth recalling
this, and also John Morley’s testimonial to Major Baring’s sound Liberal
ideas, published at the time of his appointment in the “Pall Mall
Gazette,” if only for the contrast of his prediction with the notorious
sequel of Lord Cromer’s career. This is how Morley announced the event:
“Major Evelyn Baring is now semi-officially announced to have been
appointed Consul-General in Egypt in place of Sir Edward Malet. The
selection is a good one. Major Baring is something more than an eminent
Anglo-Indian; he is an experienced Anglo-Egyptian, familiar both with
men and affairs in the Nile Valley. His appointment will help to
reassure the public both at home and abroad as to the tendency of
English policy in Egypt, for it is well understood both at Cairo and in
London that Major Baring is not an advocate of a forward policy, and
that he is free from any delusions as to the possibility of inaugurating
a millennium in Egypt by placing it under ‘the masterful hand of a
British Resident.’ It is not in that direction that Major Baring will
lead the country in which he will be the accredited representative of
England.”
I had disburdened my mind to a certain extent of its anger by writing my
diatribe in verse (see “Secret History”) “The Wind and the Whirlwind,”
but I felt that a more active campaign was required of me, and Egypt
being, as it seemed for the present, closed to me, I had made up my mind
before publishing what I still had in view, a true history of the
Egyptian revolution and the intrigues which had ruined it, to pay a
visit to Arabi and his fellow exiles in Ceylon, and from there to go on
northwards and make good my knowledge of the Islamic situation by
visiting Mohammedan India. In this last design I had been encouraged by
that early apostle of Mohammedan reform, Seyd Jemal-ed-Din Afghani, a
sketch of whose biography has been given elsewhere, and whose
acquaintance I had made that spring in London. Since the time of his
having been expelled from Egypt in 1879 by the Anglo-French control,
Jemal-ed-Din had wandered through many lands both east and west, in
India first, whence he had been driven by the persecution of the
political police; and then in the United States, where he had
endeavoured to qualify by residence as an American citizen; and then,
after passing through London, lastly at Paris, where he had gathered
around him a group of Nationalist exiles banished from Egypt after Tel-
el-Kebir. I had talked my intended visit to India over with him, and he
had thought it might be of use; and it had been fixed that I was to
leave England at the beginning of September for the East, when the
incident occurred to which allusion has been made in my “India under
Ripon,” and which sent me once more to Egypt. As it relates to a point
which has been challenged by Lord Cromer in his “Modern Egypt,” I will
give some further account of it here, and it will serve as yet another
proof of the half intention there was still in Downing Street to recall
Arabi.
A few days before the date fixed for my departure an unexpected message
reached me from Mr. Knowles, the editor of the “Nineteenth Century
Review,” who, an old friend of Gladstone’s, had once before been used by
the Prime Minister to convey a message to me, and whom I knew to be
interested in Arabi’s case, begging me to call on him before starting on
my journey; and I consequently went to breakfast with him at his house
at Clapham on the morning of the 29th August. Knowles then informed me
that he had recently seen the Prime Minister, and that it was in
Gladstone’s mind, notwithstanding all that had occurred during the past
year, to recall Arabi to Egypt, and that he only needed an excuse of
some public kind to do so. His idea was that according to the new
Constitution decreed in harmony with Lord Dufferin’s despatch, Arabi
might be elected to one of the two consultative bodies which were to
form the basis of Egyptian self-government. Elections to the General
Assembly were about to be held, and, if it could be arranged that Arabi
should be returned as a member of it, it would serve as a reason for
urging his pardon on the Egyptian Government, and his recall from exile.
It was thought, too, that during my passage through Egypt I might
usefully suggest such a course to my friends there and so arrange the
matter. This plan, with its parliamentary device so characteristic of
Gladstone’s mind, was one which I could not refuse to fall in
with—though I knew how difficult it would be to carry out. It would, of
course, be impossible to do anything at all without our Government’s
help at Cairo. Knowles, however, told me that Malet, already for some
time appointed to Brussels, was to leave for his new post in a few days,
and that Baring, who was to succeed him at the Agency, was expected to
inaugurate the new regime in full accordance with Liberal principles.
Colvin, too, was on the point of leaving Egypt to resume his place in
India as before in the Civil Service. The field was therefore open, and
anything might be expected. I have a record of this conversation in
letters which I wrote at the time to Mrs. Howard, whose guest at Nawarth
I had recently been, and to Lady Gregory. These say:
“_30th August_, 1883.
“At James Street I found many important letters, among others a note
from Knowles, asking me to breakfast at Clapham; there he gave me the
news. He had seen Mr. Gladstone lately, and is assured he will both stay
in office, and, if he can find some way for his pride, restore the
National Party in Egypt. It appears they are quite aware the present
state of things cannot be made to go on, and Sir Evelyn Baring has been
appointed with _carte blanche_ to devise a new policy in place of
Malet’s and Dufferin’s, which have proved failures. Baring has written
an article for the ‘Nineteenth Century’ on Lord Ripon’s policy in India,
full of the most Liberal ideas, which will come out in October, and
Knowles thinks he will receive me with open arms. So he advises me to be
there soon after he arrives, and thinks the Government will be delighted
if we can get Arabi returned for Cairo, and other Nationalists for other
places.”
Lord Cromer’s article here referred to, and which will be found in the
October number of the “Nineteenth Century Review” of 1883, though not a
very striking one, is of importance in connection with the view taken of
it at the time in the minds of those who appointed him and with his
later views. It is a somewhat feeble plea for local self-government in
India and a free press. He declares himself to be on the side of those
“who have established a free press, who have promoted education, who
have admitted natives more and more largely to the public services in
various forms, and who have favoured the extension of Local Self-
Government.” The most forcible passage in the article says: “No one who
watches the signs of the times in India with even moderate care can
doubt that we have entered upon a period of change. The spread of
education, the increasing influence of a free press, the substituting of
legal for discretionary administration, the progress of railways and
telegraphs, the easier communication with Europe, and the more ready
influx of European ideas, are beginning to produce a marked effect upon
the people. New ideas are springing up. New aspirations are being called
forth. The power of public opinion is growing daily. Such a condition of
affairs is one in which the task of Government, and especially of a
despotic Government, is beset with difficulties of no light kind. To
move too fast is dangerous, but to lag behind is more dangerous still.
The problem is how to deal with this new born spirit of progress, raw
and superficial as in many respects it is, so as to direct it into a
right course, and to derive from it all the benefits which its
development is capable of ultimately conferring upon the country, and at
the same time to prevent it from becoming, through blind indifference or
stupid repression, a source of serious political danger. It is only what
ought to be expected by every thoughtful man, that after fifty years of
a free press, and thirty years of expanding education, with European
ideas flowing into the country on every side, and old indigenous
customs, habits and prejudices breaking down, changes should be taking
place in the thoughts, the desires and the aims of the intelligent and
educated men of the country, which no wise and cautious Government can
afford to disregard, and to which they must gradually adapt their system
of administration, if they do not wish to see it shattered by forces
which they have themselves called into being, but which they have failed
to guide and control.”
Again, in a second letter a week later, I wrote:
“_8th Sept._, 1883.
“We have taken our places for Suez by the French steamer which leaves
Marseilles on the 16th, and so hope to arrive at Cairo about the 25th.
By that time Malet and Colvin will have gone their ways, let us hope for
_ever_, and if there is anything in Knowles’s argument I shall find the
field open for me with Baring. At the same time I confess I am far from
sanguine. In the first place I do not trust Mr. Gladstone as you do, and
then I _know_ the difficulties; these will be immense, and without
really cordial co-operation from Baring I could do nothing at all that
would be any good. I rather suspect, too, that the Foreign Office may be
trying to make use of me by encouraging just so much opposition to the
elections as to make them appear spontaneous. But we shall see; half an
hour’s talk with Baring will probably be enough to show me whether it is
worth my while staying in Egypt or whether I should not rather go on to
India. . . . I had a very interesting talk with an Oriental yesterday
who tells me . . . that there are still strong influences about the
Sultan in favour of Arab independence in Egypt, and that, if the English
Government chooses, the party can be restored, but it all depends upon
the action of our Government.”
Parliament at the date of this letter had not long been prorogued, and
all the world was out of town. Gladstone, among the rest, was away; he
had gone yachting with Sir Donald Currie, his host on the occasion, Sir
Algernon West, and a party of his other friends, and was actually, I
believe, on the coast of Norway, and I could not wait for his return, my
own departure from England being fixed for the 12th of September.
Nevertheless, while I was considering the matter I received a note from
Sir Edward Hamilton, Gladstone’s private secretary, asking to see me
before I went, and the morning before I was to start I heard again from
him that he wished to see me. I went therefore to him the same morning
to Downing Street, and talked the matter of the restoration of the
National Party over with him, as described in “India under Ripon,” and
it was agreed between us that I was to call on Baring while passing
through Cairo, and that if Baring would help I would try to get the
Nationalist leaders elected at the elections; but all depended on the
co-operation of our officials. He asked me whether I was going to take
anybody with me to Egypt, and I said I had been thinking of taking
Sabunji, my Oriental secretary,[10] but that as he was looked upon with
so much suspicion by the Foreign Office I had resolved not to do so.
Later, however, I found it necessary to take him, and I let Hamilton
know my change of plan. The next day I started with my wife for Paris,
where, as I have explained in my other volume, I saw Sheykh Jemal-ed-
Din, and arranged with him the details of my Indian journey.
It was on this occasion that I first made acquaintance with James Sanua,
better known as Sheykh Abu Naddara, who was living in a little lodging
in the Avenue de Clichy, where he edited his paper and gained a
precarious livelihood as a master of languages. About this very worthy
Egyptian patriot, who has resided now in Paris for upwards of thirty
years and has gained a considerable position in the French journalistic
world, I will here say a few words. James Sanua was one of the earliest
sufferers for liberty on the Nile. An Egyptian Jew by birth, and a man
of considerable wit and education, he had become acquainted with Sheykh
Jemal-ed-Din, Sheykh Mohammed Abdu, and others of the Mohammedan
reformers, who with their wide ideas of religious tolerance received him
into their circle in the Azhar, and put him in the way of literary work.
They then, seeing that he had a pleasant wit, encouraged him in a plan
he had of starting a puppet show, which, under the guise of amusement,
was to spread political ideas among the lower class. This had an
immediate success, the butt of Sanua’s wit being, under various
disguises, always the Khedive Ismaïl. The Polichinelle of the puppet
show was a personage in spectacles, called _Abu Naddara_, Father of
Glasses, from whom Sanua took his adopted name—he was himself half blind
with a neglected ophthalmia. From this commencement he went on to
publishing a small newspaper, at first in manuscript, and then
lithographed, which was distributed by hand at Cairo and Alexandria. In
it the same tone of nonsense was kept up, and with good political
effect, among the people of the streets. It was continued for two or
three years; Ismaïl himself, who came to hear of it, joining, it is
said, in the laughter, until at last it overstepped the bounds of what
his despotism considered allowable, when it was suppressed and its
author summarily exiled. Sanua, however, was not to be beaten so easily,
and with the help of his friends found a refuge in Paris, and there
continued to print his “Abu Naddara” as a monthly sheet, and to get it
distributed as regularly as before in Egypt. At one time it had
considerable political importance, and was of sufficient interest to
induce the British Museum to desire a complete series of its numbers,
which I helped them to obtain. (See also Appendix E.)
About the actual condition of things in Egypt Sanua told me there were
two parties, the clerical, which looked to Constantinople for help, and
the lay, which was powerless because it had no leader. He and Jemal-ed-
Din were at that time on intimate terms with each other, and we spent
most of our time with them during the few days we were at Paris. On the
17th we left for Marseilles; and from this point I am able to take up my
narrative by transcription from my journal.
“_16th Sept._—On board the Pei Ho. Sat at dinner next a well-known
Syrian merchant of Alexandria, Naghib Zogheb, and learned his views,
which, no doubt, represent those of the commercial class generally. He
is all for continued occupation, annexation, or anything else that shall
secure commercial stability. He looks upon the English policy as ‘_très
fin_. It says little, and does a great deal.’ All posts are being filled
up with Englishmen. The low class Europeans do not like this, as it
takes the bread out of their mouths, but he and all respectable men are
pleased. He believes Egypt to be perfectly solvent, but the English have
been persuading the fellahin not to pay their debts to the usurers.
Zogheb is too great a man to be a usurer with the fellahin himself, so
as to assist the collection of the revenue, and thinks the English will
end by being not unpopular except with the ‘fanatics.’ The Khedive and
his Ministers are only dummies. Tewfik is _un homme nul_, disliked by
the _indigènes_, and despised by the Europeans.
“_17th Sept._—My Syrian neighbour is amusingly naïve. It appears that he
does lend money, but only in hundreds and thousands; indeed Sabunji
tells me he is the greatest of all the Alexandrian usurers, and at
dinner to-day he detailed to me some of his transactions. ‘To get money
from the Arabs,’ he says, ‘_il faut de la ruse_. They owe you £100; they
have not the money; you take produce from them worth £200, or you lend
them another £100 on the value of £200. Yet there are some of them who,
when brought before the Court, are so shameless as to deny their
signatures.’ I asked him at how much he reckoned the private debts of
the fellahin, and he told me to guess. I said, ‘Our Government pretends
they owe ten millions.’ He said, ‘Say twelve or fifteen, but their
creditors would be content with eight millions, if it was secured or
paid off and they could leave the country. The whole thing could be well
settled for ten millions.’ ‘There is no difficulty,’ he added, ‘in Egypt
except what is to be done with the _indigènes_. All the rest is simple.
Egypt should be colonized by Europeans, by Englishmen, and made to pay
all her debts.’ But the soil was getting worked out by overcropping,
losing about 15 per cent. yearly, set off by about 15 per cent. more
land being cultivated. He was again eulogistic of English cunning in
getting hold of Egypt. ‘They spent a deal of money in buying the
Bedouins, but it was money well spent. At Port Said they had had the
face to say when they disembarked that they came as friends to help the
Khedive; but all is fair when one’s own interest is concerned.’ For
himself he was glad they came and hoped they would remain.
“_18th Sept._—I have a new neighbour at table, another moneylender, a
Greek of Cairo. His views are not very different from the other’s, and
he thinks that the English Government is really serious about
withdrawing the troops.” [_N.B._—It was intended at the time to withdraw
the Cairo garrison at the end of the year, leaving only 3,000 men at
Alexandria as an “army of observation.”] “‘The misfortune is,’ he says,
‘that Mr. Gladstone is too loyal. He promised not to annex, and he
thinks it necessary to keep his promise. But you will see, the day the
English troops go, there will be another massacre of Europeans. The army
under Sir Wood will join the Arabs; they are all savages together. To
know the Arabs you must have lived with them. They are like beasts. You
take an Arab servant, you treat him well, he poisons you on the first
opportunity; you beat him, perhaps he loves you. The English have
destroyed respect for the Khedive. He will be the first person killed.
There is no government in Egypt. The Khedive hates the English. The
Arabs hate the Khedive. The poor Europeans join the Arabs against the
English. Every one who is interested in the country prays for Mr.
Gladstone’s retirement from office. Then the country will be annexed.’ I
asked him about Arabi, whether the Arabs still talked of him. He said:
‘They talk of him only as a vagabond. They do not love any one except a
man to beat them. Lord Dufferin was told by his Government to give them
a Constitution. He has given them one. But if you ask him what he thinks
of the Arabs, he will tell you the same as I do. Commerce is ruined in
the country because we are all waiting to see what will happen. Business
does not go on. We keep our money in our pockets for fear. The
uncertainty destroys our confidence.’ Poor usurers!
“_19th Sept._—Another talk with Zogheb. He says: ‘The whole question in
Egypt is this—to what extent could the fellah be replaced by other
labour? If he alone can dig and plough Europe _must_ come to terms with
him.’ I have written out my programme for the restoration of a National
Government in Egypt carefully, and have given it to Sabunji to
translate. He is also translating the ‘Wind and the Whirlwind.’
“_20th Sept._—Sabunji has made acquaintance with a young Circassian, a
naval officer. In common with the rest of the Egyptian navy he took no
part in the war, and detests the English cordially. The Circassians, he
said, were all against Tewfik because he was a fool, and because he had
betrayed the country to the English. If it had not been for Tewfik and
Sultan Pasha, the English would have been driven out of Egypt with the
courbash. Tewfik gave all the plans of Tel-el-Kebir and the Wady to
Wolseley, and Sultan Pasha helped them with the Bedouins. He was very
wroth with Sultan Pasha, ‘a dog, the son of a Coptic dog.’ Asked about
possible substitutes for Tewfik, he said, ‘Nobody thinks of Halim. A few
would like Hassan but he is not so popular as his father. Ismaïl is the
man we all want.’ He was with Dervish Pasha when he was arrested on his
return to Constantinople. He says Dervish was condemned to three years
imprisonment, but is now at large. He is young and a sailor, and has
probably spoken the truth as regards the general feeling of the
Circassians. They were all with Arabi in the last days and during the
war, just as the Sultan was. They hate the Arabs, but they hate the
English more.
“About three o’clock we sighted the P. and O. homeward mail, with Malet
probably on board.
“_21st Sept._—I asked my moneylending friends to-day at breakfast their
opinion of our various officials in Egypt. Colvin they said was a stupid
fellow, quite ignorant of finance. He had come as an officer of the
Cadastral Survey, and had been pushed on by influence into positions he
was quite unfit for. Blignières was really a financier, but Colvin, oh
no! Baring? That was quite a different thing. He was a man in a million.
He and Blignières had done everything between them that had been done
for Egypt. Baring was a master of finance, a man who knew his mind, and
was as firm as a rock. His appointment had made Egyptian stock go up
already. Malet was a diplomatist; he knew nothing of finance, he was
neither liked nor disliked; he was neither capable nor incapable.
Dufferin had been a great success; he was charming, gave parties, went
to the theatre, played cricket with the officers, conciliated everybody,
even the foreign Consuls. His report on Egypt was founded on the truth,
but it was full of _plaisanteries_. Wood[11] was an able man; he knew
how to manage the natives. The Arabs were like machines; they obeyed
their officers. Zogheb is of opinion they will continue to obey them,
even after the Army of Occupation is withdrawn.
“_22nd Sept._—Arrived at Port Said during the night, and sent Sabunji
like a raven from the Ark to get intelligence. He came back with the
news that Ibrahim Tewfik is governor of the place, the same agent of the
Khedive who got up the trouble with the Bedouins in Boheyra. He has, of
course, been promoted and rewarded. Sabunji got hold of a fellah and
went the round of the shops with him, looking in at the windows. In one
of them there was a picture of Arabi, and the man asked him if he knew
it. Sabunji feigned ignorance, and when the man told him it was Arabi,
asked if the people still thought of him. The man answered ‘Some do.’
‘How many?’ asked Sabunji, ‘the greater or the smaller number?’ ‘Perhaps
the greater,’ said the man.
“_24th Sept._—Landed about midday at Suez, and spent the remainder of
the day with the Wests (the British Consul and his wife). Senior wrote
about them thirty years ago that they were ‘looking forward daily to
their final departure from Suez,’ and here they still are. West is a man
who knows Egypt as well as, if not better than, any Englishman in the
country. His knowledge, however, is a little out of date, though he
spent three weeks as acting Consul at Alexandria between the riots and
the bombardment last year. I had a long discussion of the financial
position with him. He was surprised when I told him of Colvin’s opinion
of its hopelessness. Colvin was here only the day before yesterday on
his way to India, but did not talk to him about finance. With regard to
the elections, he said that people would elect the man in the district
they were most afraid of. At Suez they had chosen the Sub-Governor. In
most places they would choose the chief of the police.
“I asked him about the riots at Alexandria. He was of opinion that they
were planned. He could not say who planned them. If it was Omar Lutfi it
must have been also the Khedive, for Omar Lutfi was, and had always
been, a devoted partisan of Tewfik. But he had been of opinion when at
Alexandria that it was Arabi. If it was in fact the Khedive, the Foreign
Office did quite right not to enquire into it. Tewfik was our king in
our game of chess, and our business was to defend him. If anybody upset
him we must put him on his legs again. It didn’t do to enquire too
closely into those things. He had never seen Arabi, so could not judge
of his character.
“West talked a good deal about the Palmer expedition; thought Palmer had
much overrated his power of bringing the Bedouins over to the English
side. Palmer had not seen the Terrabin Arabs or the Howeytat. He, West,
had thought his second expedition with Gill and Charrington a very
foolish one. All the Bedouins believed that the Sultan had given Arabi
the sword of Islam and that he must be victorious. Of Colonel Warren’s
method of examining the ‘guilty ones’ he gave a graphic account. He used
to pretend friendliness with them, and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes
and endeavour through his interpreters—for he knew no word of Arabic—to
trip them up in conversation, and make them contradict each other. On
this kind of evidence he satisfied himself as to the identity of five
Bedouins as the men who had been actually told off to shoot Palmer and
his companions, but they were only the executioners. Ibn Mershid was the
Sheykh who gave the order, but Ibn Shedid, the Howeytat Sheykh at Cairo,
was afraid of him, and let him go. They had got Ibn Mershid’s wife and
children still in prison at Suez, and twelve Bedouins in all charged
with the affair. This is monstrous. I shall apply to Baring for an order
to see them, and get them released.
“_25th Sept._—To Cairo by the morning train. On the road there are still
some traces of the war, at Shaluf some human bones and a skull or two
lying about, but less than one would expect. The principal remains are
the iron hoops of packing cases, and broken tins of preserved meat. The
celebrated lines of Tel-el-Kebir are, after all, but a low bank and a
very shallow dry ditch. They would hardly stop a hunting field. Cairo
looks absolutely unchanged, but by reason of the time of year there are
hardly any foreigners in the town. The hotels are empty; we have the
Hôtel du Nil almost entirely to ourselves. The only sign of English
occupation that I have seen since landing in Egypt has been three men in
English uniform.
“At dinner to-day I sat next Colonel Kelly, who is working the police
and constabulary under Baker Pasha. He gives an absurd account of their
functions, which are restricted to paying and clothing the men, and
ordering their promotion. They take all their orders from the Prefect of
police, who unites the functions of chief constable, judge, jury, and
framer of the laws. The Prefect has under him a private service of
spies, and neither Baker nor this Colonel have any right to enquire
either why people are arrested, or what becomes of them afterwards. The
Englishmen are supposed to have a right of inspecting the prisons, but
out of Cairo and Alexandria they are prevented from really doing this by
the Mudirs who refuse them all access. Amongst the constabulary are two
battalions, 500 men each, one mounted, the other on foot, composed
entirely of Turks from Turkey. [This constabulary corps was sent three
months later with Baker to Souakin, where all composing it were routed
and slain by the Mahdists under Osman Digna.]
“_26th Sept._—Sent a note to Baring early, asking for an interview to
talk over the political situation, and got a very amiable answer,
inviting me to breakfast. Baring, who looks about fifty [he was really
forty-two], imposes on one a good deal as a man of sense and integrity,
and, without being exactly brilliant, seems capable of original ideas.
He breakfasted with his suite, among whom I found Aranghi, Malet’s Greek
dragoman, still in his same office, and from the circumstance I did not
augur well of any change of policy. We talked about India, the Rajputs,
Salar Jung, and other interesting topics. Baring said that Salar Jung
was the finest looking Oriental he had ever met, with admirable manners,
and great dignity. The present state of things at Hyderabad was much
‘mixed’ since his death, as all had depended on his personal character.
“After breakfast we went down to his room, which I knew so well as
Malet’s, and he asked me my views about the state of things in Egypt. I
gave him a sketch of the position two years ago, of the parties in the
Azhar, and the manner in which the Liberal party there had been
alienated from England, and the triumph of the fanatical party on the
restoration of the Khedive. He seemed to agree with me that a reform
should have a religious basis, but would not admit that the Turks and
Circassians were incapable of this. He explained that he had come to
Egypt originally as representative of the Bondholders, and that he had
always held the interests of these and of Egypt to be identical. The
Control had, in fact, done great good. While Controller he had always
refused to act in too close concert with the Consul-General, as he held
himself to be above all things one of the Khedive’s officers. He had
found that by showing the chief personages, even Riaz, that he only
wished their good he had generally succeeded in making them do as he
wanted. I objected that he had not prevented Riaz’s cruelty, his
arbitrary arrests and persecutions. He said that Riaz’s fault was that
he saw things too _couleur de rose_, he would not believe that
neglecting the just claims of the soldiers would raise a rebellion. With
regard to finance, which we next discussed, I was glad to find that
Baring held sound views on the point of the fellahin’s debts. He was for
settling them down to date, and restoring the old state of the law,
making mortgage impossible. He quite understood the evils attending the
mixed tribunals, as similar to those of the Civil Courts in India. He
said that they should be his first care. He did not, however, seem at
all hopeful of Egypt’s solvency. With the introduction of a new system
of government and the abolition of the courbash, the financial prospect
was a very doubtful one. He talked about the elections as a novel
experiment, which, if it had not succeeded this time, might another. I
explained to him that there was no such novelty in it whatever, and that
two years ago there had been elections which _had_ succeeded, and if
these last had not, it was because all liberty had been crushed. How
could a man vote independently as long as there was nothing in the
nature of _habeas corpus_ to secure him from arbitrary arrest? These
arbitrary arrests were, with the debts, the reason of the rebellion, and
would be again. He promised to have this provided against though
‘perhaps _habeas corpus_ was too much to give _all at once_.’ What the
country wanted above all was order and peace. I asked him if he did not
think of restoring the National Party, at least the civilian exiles; but
he said this was quite out of the question. They could not restore the
National Party without another revolution, and another revolution could
not be. He asked me whether the Nationalists had no leader in Egypt; I
said none that I knew of, the Reign of Terror had crushed all courage
out of the few who had not been exiled or imprisoned. In conclusion he
said, that as far as he was concerned, he should support the Khedive and
the Circassians with all his power. I saw that it was useless talking
further. Whatever Gladstone may dream of, or pretend to dream, it is
clear the Foreign Office has not changed its mind.”
This conversation, which I transcribe as it stands in my diary, is
extremely interesting as showing the ideas with which Lord Cromer
started on his long career as Resident in Egypt. The last part of it had
been carried on in rather a heated tone, for I had spoken my mind
strongly on the impossibility of any attempt either at carrying out the
promised constitution, or even of introducing practical reforms for the
emancipation of the fellahin, through the instrumentality of the
Circassian ruling class. At the time Baring refused to believe me, but
he afterwards acknowledged the truth of my view, though it was not till
many years later, by practically discarding all the Circassian Pashas
from active participation in the government. I did not speak to him of
the part Gladstone had had in my coming to consult him, saying only that
I had come from Downing Street, and that I understood that something in
the nature of a restoration of the National Party was there desired. I
should have spoken more plainly had he shown any indication of sharing
that idea, but it was clear from the outset that our views on this
subject were at a hopeless disaccord, and I left him much disappointed.
“This is an end therefore,” I wrote, “to any plans we may have had in
Egypt, and I have decided that we shall sail in the British India boat
on the 3rd.”
As this was the first occasion on which I met the present Lord Cromer of
the many meetings of which mention will be made in these memoirs, I will
here, for the benefit especially of Egyptian readers, attempt a sketch
of his very remarkable personality, not merely as I saw him first, but
as it revealed itself to me in after years. A member by birth of the
well-known London banking family, Baring Brothers, of Dutch, it is
generally said of Jewish, origin, Lord Cromer belonged from the
beginning of his career to the inner ring of the high finance of Europe,
and owed to it the cosmopolitan character, along with the energy for
work, and the clear business head distinguishing those who compose it.
Several members of the Baring family have in the last hundred years
entered English political life, and have been raised to the peerage, and
this with their great wealth has given the family an influence in the
official world, wider perhaps than that of any other that can be named.
Evelyn Baring himself was sixth son of the head of the firm, and having
but a younger son’s portion was given the army as a profession. He made
his education at Woolwich, and served for fourteen years in the
artillery, without however seeing any active service, and then in 1872
when his cousin, Lord Northbrook, also a Baring, was appointed Governor-
General of India, went to India with him as his private secretary. Thus
removed to civil employment, and having left the army with the rank of
Major, he found himself more in his true element than as a soldier, and
was able for the first time to prove his administrative worth, and he
did so with such credit that, on Northbrook’s term of office in India
coming to an end in 1876, a well-paid financial post was found for him
in Egypt, first as Commissioner of the Public Debt, and then as
Comptroller-General of Finance. This was the beginning of Lord Cromer’s
Egyptian career.
In 1880, the Whigs having once more come into office, Baring got further
advancement and returned to India with Lord Ripon, as his Finance
Minister. In all these posts he showed his family aptitude, having
precisely the qualities which money-dealing on a large scale demands. He
was a man of integrity and prudence, with sufficient imagination, and no
more, to foresee events likely to affect the financial situation, and he
had the promptitude of will and ready self-reliance required to deal
with each as it arose successfully. The same qualities served him,
though in a less degree, as administrator. Incapable, as I judge him, of
any very original conceptions, and with small powers of sympathy outside
the narrow school of English or rather European political thought in
which he was bred, he spent half a life time in the East without
understanding it or attempting to understand; also his judgement of
individuals was very fallible. Like all business men of practical
ability, his views were necessarily short ones, and he judged men rather
by a rapid calculation of averages, than by any clear individual
insight. Time in his busy life was too valuable to waste in long
deliberation, or in reconsidering a course once resolved on; a judgement
pronounced, whether on men or things, was always with him the _chose
jugée_, which was not worth further discussion. It must stand or fall on
the merits assigned to it, and could not block the way to new cases.
Personally I liked Lord Cromer. He had a reputation for rudeness, but I
do not think it was justified; at least he was never rude to me. On the
contrary, I found it a pleasure to talk with him, as I often did in
later years at Cairo on public business. He was always so concise and to
the point. He did not affect the mystery diplomatists mostly indulge in,
nor care to deceive or flatter, unless it might be a travelling
journalist or a too inquisitive M.P., whom he had an object in cajoling.
In talk with me he was generally sincere, whether in agreement or
disagreement; our views were not often the same, but when they differed
he did not resent speech in me as plain as his own. Above all he was
quick to understand, and as quick to decide; it was the secret of his
long success on his own lines in Egypt. His failure, when it came, was
due, I think, to what the French call the defect of his qualities, his
excessive economy of time which limited his view to work immediately in
hand, and his lack of the larger imagination which once or twice at
critical moments left him blind.
Such I found him personally. With a pen in his hand, however, and when
writing with a view to publicity, Lord Cromer was by no means the plain
direct man I found him in his private talk. His yearly reports, so far
from being straightforward, are models of insincerity, especially those
written in his later years, when the habit of political make-believe had
grown upon him with the double part he was daily called to play in the
“Veiled Protectorate.” No one knew better than he how, with a show of
frankness, to conceal an inconvenient truth, and how by the admission of
a minor error of judgement a larger mistake could be left undealt with.
He understood, too, in great perfection the art, through praise of his
subordinates, to praise, without seeming it, himself. Year after year
his reports used to be published, making an impression on the public
mind of being the simple record of great things performed by one
careless of personal fame, and at the same time so superior to his
readers in his knowledge of his subject as to have the right to say:
“This, I and those with me did; that we left undone; the result is what
you see.” To me, who knew more of Egypt than the public knew, his
reports revealed themselves as less candid, and very much less modest.
Reading them, they always reminded me of those first chapters of the
Book of Genesis in which at the end of each day of Creation “The Lord
saw all the work that he had done, and found it very good.” Yet, if we
turn to the same reports now in the light of later experience, we
recognize easily enough how vain-glorious and how fallacious most of
them are. As to his value as a historian, his book, “Modern Egypt,” is
not history at all in any sense of being a dependable record of things
which actually happened as they happened. It is a long piece of special
pleading in regard to his own administrative achievements, in which the
defects concealed at the time have latterly become very visible. Lord
Cromer never seems to have taken the trouble to consult any native
authority, or to have gone further afield than the Blue Books for his
knowledge of events unconnected with his own special work. Even about
these he is occasionally inaccurate, and seldom quite sincere. As a
diagnosis of the land he lived in for so many years without really
seeing it—for his mornings were spent at his desk, and his evenings in
the European society of Cairo—his final judgements are fallacious
through ignorance, the work of a stranger to Egypt rather than of one so
long resident there. His prediction of the future of Islam is a fallacy
already proved; and his adoption of Lord Milner’s foolish phrase about
Egypt being the “Land of Paradox,” a confession of ignorance inexcusable
in one with such long experience, and not a trifle absurd.
But to resume my journal.
The few days that I still spent in Egypt before taking steamer for
Colombo showed me only too clearly how hopeless the political position
was. On the 27th I called on Sir Benson Maxwell, who had recently been
appointed Adviser to the Egyptian Government in the Department of
Justice, which it was designed to reform. “He received me with great
cordiality, saying that, although rowing in a different boat from mine,
he had great sympathy with my ideas. He is a most liberal-minded man,
but, like Baring, he thinks he has discovered a vein of liberal feeling
among the Turks. Tewfik, Sherif, and Fakri, he believes, are opposed to
Constantinople and jealous of Egypt’s independence. He thinks the Turks
born to rule, the Arabs to obey. The Turks could be taught justice under
English guidance; they wished the English to stay and help them. Ali
Mubarak (but he is an Egyptian) had besought him not to desert them till
their scheme of justice was in working order. He had a great respect for
Sherif (the then Prime Minister) as an honest and good man. I told him
the first thing he ought to do was to abolish arbitrary arrest, and he
explained that something of the sort was included in his plan, but
nothing will be so much as begun before Christmas. I told him of the
case of the Bedouin women and children in prison at Suez, which moved
his indignation. It was military law, he said, not justice. We will see
if anything comes of it. Maxwell is an honest man and really believes
what he says, which is more than most of them do, but I am afraid the
Turks are making a fool of him. He will do his best and fail, and go
home, as many another has done before him. He goes home on leave in a
couple of days; his business of reforming justice being at a standstill.
He thought very little of Dufferin’s charter, but the odd thing is, they
all imagine it to be the first suggestion in the direction of free
government ever made in Egypt.”
The prediction I have just quoted of Sir Benson Maxwell’s failure in
Egypt was amply verified the following year, when, failing to get his
reforms adopted by the Khedive’s Government, and being ill-supported by
Baring, he finally retired from Egypt.
“Met Lionel Moore (formerly Oriental secretary at the Embassy at
Constantinople) and went shopping with him in the Bazaar. He was very
communicative, and told me amusing stories connected with the events of
June and July at Alexandria. He was staying with Cookson on the day of
the riot, and had been out driving in the direction of Ramleh. On coming
in to the Consulate at 3, Cookson asked him to go to the Governor’s,
Omar Lutfi’s, because he, Cookson, had been wounded, and might not
survive the day. He was to deliver this message: he was to ask Omar
Lutfi if he could put down the riot with the soldiers, or whether he,
Cookson, should ask help from the ships. He had accordingly gone to the
Governor’s house, and had found him sitting with Tulba at about 3.30,
and, on delivering his message, Omar Lutfi had referred him to the
officers, who rudely answered that there would be safety for all ‘_Amàn
li jamia_’; he had accordingly gone up to Tulba and called him a rascal,
and bade him provide for the safety of the town. On this Tulba, who had
his sword across his knees, half drew it, and Moore, who had provided
himself with a heavy stick, put himself in a defensive attitude, and
defied him to come on and he would take his sword from him, whereupon
Omar Lutfi and the rest had pushed him out of the room, and downstairs,
and out of the house. Another story was that he had gone with Beresford
to help him to sketch one of the forts, and had detained the soldiers
talking while the other made his drawing. Then he had gone away to
Syria, and did not come back till after the war. We talked about Malet.
He said he was the most incapable man in diplomacy. He knew how to turn
a dispatch so as to please the Foreign Office, but he was absolutely
ignorant of everything that went on in Egypt. I reminded him of what he
had told me last year of the arrangement made at that time (January
1882) between the English and French Governments, whereby it was agreed
that in case of intervention, a French force should land, and the
English fleet should watch the seaports. The agreement held good till
Gambetta’s fall. Going up the Mouski he told me that Tewfik had not a
single friend in the country. The Circassians and all were against him.
Halim would be a better man. He thought Arabi honest, but Tulba and
Mahmud Sami were poor scoundrels. He did not believe in the Arabs.
Baring had promised him a place, because he was the only Englishman in
Cairo, with Rogers, who knew Arabic.” [N.B.—An entire libel on Mahmud
Sami, who was a very distinguished man. But Tulba was of small account.]
This Lionel Moore was an Irishman by birth, a man of ability, much wit,
and a great knowledge of the East and Eastern languages. He had been
born in Syria, his father having been Consul at Jerusalem, and he spoke
Arabic almost as his mother tongue, so that he was commonly known in
diplomacy as the Irish Arab. He was brother of the Colonel Moore
mentioned in my “India under Ripon” as A.D.C. to the Duke of Connaught;
and he himself, as Oriental secretary at Constantinople, had accompanied
the then Prince of Wales in his tour in Palestine, and had remained a
favourite with the Prince. He was one of the _habitués_ of Marlborough
House when in England. He had, however, been obliged to leave the
diplomatic service on account of a mysterious illness which had attacked
him, and kept him, if I remember rightly, for two years semi-unconscious
at the Buckingham Palace Hotel. On recovery he was a changed man, and
had never fully regained the use of his wits, though he remained
talkative and amusing. But for this weakness, he would undoubtedly have
been given the re-employment he sought, for there was no man in Egypt
who could speak Arabic as he did of the purest kind and with a knowledge
of its literature, and a power of quotation such as he possessed. He
lived on for several years after this, and died some time in the
eighties.
“Anne went yesterday to see Arabi’s wife, and has gone to-day to see
some of the other ladies. They tell her that all the people here have
the idea that the exiles will soon come back, that they are protected by
a high personage in England, and that Tewfik is to go away. The
soldiers, too, think this.
“_28th Sept._—To breakfast with Moore, who told us much what he had told
me yesterday. He said most emphatically that Tewfik had not a single
friend in the country, and could not stay when the English were gone.
Then to Ali Fehmy’s house, a sad visit. Last time I was there I sat with
him and Arabi in the garden talking about the Sultan; now all is empty.
The old porter was full of tears and thanks, and told us how happy the
world would be if his master returned. We went on to another small house
to see Ali Fehmy’s daughter, a nice little Egyptian girl with a pleasant
voice, who talked sensibly about things. She is not married yet, and I
went upstairs with Anne to see her. I have written to Eddy Hamilton
telling him of my disappointment at the state of things here, and to
Sanua. I have also applied to the Domains Commissioner for the title-
deeds of my property at Sheykh Obeyd.
“_29th Sept._—Hotter than ever. Started at 5.30 for our garden (Sheykh
Obeyd) and stopped at Matarieh to meet Sabunji and his friend Count
Gerouais, with whom he had been staying at Ramleh. The Gerouais are
Syrians, ennobled some generations back by the Papal Court, and, what is
strange, they are ardent Nationalists. We found Sabunji disguised in his
proper dress of an Abbé, which gives him a most respectable appearance.
They brought us news, though less than we expected, the most important
being that Gerouais had sent his black servant to Damanhur to look for
Sheykh Mohammed Khalil, and had returned with the tale that he had died
a month before of cholera. His account showed the suspicion and terror
of the country districts, for the people he enquired of besought him one
and all to depart out of their coasts, an account which exactly
corresponds with one brought me yesterday, in answer to enquiries I had
made for other friends, of the Boab (gate-keeper) of the Azhar.”
The news of Khalil’s death distressed me much, as it was that of my
earliest friend at the Azhar, Mohammed Abdu’s most devoted disciple.
Poor man! as I afterwards learnt, he had been driven out of the Azhar on
the Khedive’s restoration on account of his connection with me, and had
wandered about afterwards with a heart broken over the misfortunes of
his country. He was of the salt of the earth, and his persecution shows
how relentlessly the best men of the Liberal Party were tracked and
punished by the reactionaries whom we had replaced in power.
“We found our garden undamaged, and gathered a dozen large pomegranates
to take to Arabi. During the war the Mudir of the district had had the
house broken into and had taken some of our things, including 17 rifles,
some pistols, and the small brass cannon I had bought two years ago for
Ibn Rashid (the Emir of Hail), an act which formed the basis of the
French fiction of my having bought a house and stored it as a ‘veritable
arsenal’ before the war. The things were taken to the citadel.[12] We
returned at half-past twelve, entertained Moore at breakfast, and
afterwards went with him to the Boulac Museum. After dinner Gerouais
came with old Salim Basalim and his son. From the old man we learnt a
good deal about the feeling of the people at Cairo. All classes, high
and low, hate Tewfik, but are in terror of their lives. His spies are
everywhere, but, where two or three are gathered together, they long for
the return of the exiles. I asked him what the people thought about me,
and he said: ‘Out of four two would be delighted to see you, and would
say so, one would be delighted but would not say so, and one would not
care.’ At first, after the war, people said: ‘What has Mr. Blunt been
doing that we hear nothing of him,’ and they were angry, saying he had
deserted them, but when Napier and Broadley came they knew that he was
still their friend. I explained the political situation in England as
far as it affected Egypt, the difference of ideas between the two
parties, the one which would annex, the other which would leave Egypt,
Lord Granville’s illiberal ideas, and Mr. Gladstone’s character. I bade
him tell his friends not to lose heart, that it was impossible the
present _régime_ could last, that with patience they would see the
exiles back, and the party of liberty restored. He promised to spread
this opinion everywhere, and said: ‘There are many in this town who, if
they knew you had passed down the street, would kiss the dust of your
footsteps.’ Then he looked about him in a frightened way, and said he
must go. They are all in terror of their lives.
“_30th Sept._—In the morning came Ali, our head gardener, who finished
his narrative of the seizure of our property. I told him the people were
donkeys, seeing I was the only friend they had had in England during the
war. He said they did not know what they were doing. They had wanted to
cut the water and take the coals of the engine, but fortunately were
prevented, or the garden would have been ruined.
“Next came a nephew of Arabi’s, who had been living on what was left of
the family estate near Zagazig. I asked him about the elections. He said
the fellahin were frightened at being put down on the register, and
understood it as a device for enlisting them in the army, but he was
afraid of talking. He was followed by Suliman Nashaat, a brother of Abd-
el-Aal’s, who was more courageous. He confirmed what the other had told
about the elections. In the towns the Governor or the Prefect of police
had sent round privately to tell the people who they were expected to
choose, and there was no opposition possible. Dufferin’s Constitution
would be well enough if they had an honest ruler, one who desired
liberty, but under Tewfik it was quite useless. There had never been
such tyranny in Egypt before, not even under Ismaïl Pasha. Ismaïl had
taken people’s money, but they were not molested as now by the police.
They were imprisoned now, and put to death on false charges, so that
there were many who wished Ismaïl back. Many of the Circassians were now
of the party of liberty, and wished a return of the exiles. The party of
liberty did not wish ill to the Europeans, and were at one with the
Copts and the Coptic Patriarch, while Boutros[13] and other rich Copts
were on the side of Tewfik. As soon as the English troops went the
people would rise against Tewfik and kill him. The soldiers would kill
their English officers—they were all ready. I told him that would be
very foolish. He reproached Arabi with having run away from Tel-el-
Kebir; Arabi, he said, used to take three hours saying his prayers
instead of attending to his business. It was not the place of a
commander to pray so much and run away so soon, and many complained that
he had thus lost his honour. Still the people liked him because he was
good, but he was more of an _alem_ than a soldier. His own brother, Abd-
el-Aal, would not have run away. Abd-el-Aal had written over and over
again to ask to be sent to Tel-el-Kebir, and he had been the last to
surrender. This is quite true. He then gave a touching picture of the
death of Yusuf Abu Diab, his brother’s aide-de-camp, who was hanged at
Tantah by the Khedive for saving the lives of Christians. Anne has
written the account down in full. He, Suliman Nashaat was in prison with
Yusuf, and afterwards went with him to the gallows, and received his
last words. Suliman Sami he had known well. It was true that Suliman had
burned Alexandria against Arabi’s orders, but he was hanged because he
would not give up certain papers. Kandil had had papers, and he was
promised his life if he would hold his tongue about the riots of June.
There were plenty of people who would give witness if the case was gone
into against the Khedive. In the Azhar every one was frightened. El
Abbasi, the new Sheykh El Islam, hated liberty. El Edwi, one of the most
courageous Sheykhs, had been exiled to his village, but the Khedive
thought now of sending him to the Mahdi to find out what his views were.
Suliman evidently sympathizes with the Mahdi, and half believes in him.
He said the issue would show whether he was sent by God. Anne has gone
to see Princess Inja Hanum.
“_1st Oct._—Last night a young man looked in who explained that he was a
friend of Wahby Bey’s, and that he had been arrested with twenty-five
others on a charge of having been connected with a Frenchman who went by
the name of Mohammed Said, and had formed or pretended to form a society
against the English called ‘Les Vengeurs.’ His only connection with him
was that the Frenchman had come to lodge in his house, and would not go
away. They had all been brought before a mixed commission, on which two
Belgians had sat, and their release was ordered. But Osman Pasha Ghaleb,
the Prefect of police, had detained most of them by superior orders from
the Palace on suspicion. The man Husseyn Bey brought me a letter from
one of them, Abd el Razak Bey, F.R.G.S., ex-director of the Naval
College, written in very good English, and asking me to come and see him
in the Zaptieh prison. Accordingly I wrote this morning to Sir E.
Baring, asking permission to pay the visit, but as no answer came, and
as we are going away to-morrow, I went with Husseyn Bey to try and get
in. The discipline of the prison is so lax that this was easy enough.
The man at the door brought a key for the asking, but they only let us
stay a few minutes. I got out of Razak, however, a most valuable piece
of information. He was in prison with Kandil, and knows he had papers
connecting the Khedive with the riots of June. Omar Lutfi got them from
Kandil on a promise of saving his life, but they meant all the same to
hang him, as they did Suliman Sami, who also had compromising documents.
I found with Abd el Razak in the prison four others, Mohammed Effendi
Fenni, late chief interpreter of the Council of Ministers, Mustafa Bey
Sidki, a brother of Husseyn Bey, a landed proprietor at Shubra, Huseyn
Sagr, and Saad-el-Zagloul, assistant editor of the ‘Wakaya’ under
Mohammed Abdu.[14] All these gave me messages to Arabi, and begged me to
look after their interests. Then we were hurried away.
“Went with Suliman to pay some visits to distinguished members of the
Party of Liberty as the National Party is now called. The first house we
called at was Emin Bey Shemsi’s, late deputy for Zagazig, and chairman
of a section; he had with him three friends, one whom he introduced as a
philosopher, another a tall vigorous young fellow, and a third, an old
fellah Notable from his own town. Shemsi used to be a country neighbour
and personal friend of Arabi’s. He is a very intelligent man, and of
some courage too, or he would not have received us, for he was only let
out of prison a few months ago, and is still watched by spies. I asked
him to tell the history of the two crises in which the Notables were
concerned last year. In the first, that which resulted in Sherif’s fall,
there was, he told us, very little difference of opinion. Sultan Pasha
alone supported Sherif. In the second, when Mahmud Sami summoned the
Chamber, they were more divided. They met at Sultan Pasha’s house before
the whole of their number had arrived at Cairo, and Sultan at first got
thirty to side with him, leaving forty-five in favour of the Ministry.
But on the occasion of the second meeting, when the windows were broken
by the mob and Arabi made his famous speech after the receipt of my
telegram, Sultan was left alone. There was no doubt in the world that
all Cairo, deputies, Ulema, merchants, and mob, insisted on Arabi’s
return to power.
“They then asked me to explain how it had come about, that with Mr.
Gladstone and the Liberal Party in power, there had been a war against
liberty, and I explained to them the financial conditions on which the
matter hinged, and the divergence between Mr. Gladstone and Lord
Granville. They were full of gratitude to me for the attempt I had made
to get them justice, and asked me what they were to do now to get
themselves out of the hands of their tyrants. I said it was first
necessary to prove to the world that they detested Tewfik, and desired
the return of Arabi, and I asked Shemsi about the possibility of
electing Arabi for the Chamber at Cairo. They laughed lugubriously, and
explained how the elections were managed. The voting took place in the
police station, under the superintendence of the police, and at each
station there were men in plain clothes to watch the voting and direct
the election on the part of the Government. A man who should have the
courage to write Arabi’s name on his paper would at once be hustled
away, and he and his family would be ruined. ‘You don’t understand,’ he
said, ‘how these things are done with us. It would be impossible that
any one should so much as speak of Arabi. If the election were free,
every one in Cairo would vote for him.’ I said: ‘If this is so, you have
nothing to do but to make a new revolt; the English troops are to be
withdrawn in the spring, and you must then get the Egyptian army on your
side. People must be ready to revolt once and twice and thrice for
liberty. Then they obtain it.’ There was a division of opinion as to the
probability of the soldiers joining. But they seemed to think the
English officers had them under their thumbs, and they next proposed to
go as a committee to London to lay their distress before the English
Government. I said I would do what I could to help them in this. But if
things are thus, their case is nearly hopeless. The revolt, to be of any
use, should be immediately on the departure of our troops, for with Lord
Salisbury in power it would only serve as a pretext for annexation.
Shemsi and the philosopher seemed to dread the departure of the English
troops. As long as Lord Dufferin had been here there was a check, but
Malet aided and encouraged Tewfik in his vengeance. We were to have met
at their house the telegraph clerk, Mustafa Bey, who sent the message
from Tewfik to Omar Lutfi ordering the riot at Alexandria, but he was
too frightened to come.
“Our next visit was to an ex-Mudir, a man of superior education and good
manners. We asked him about the reception recently given to Tewfik in
the provinces. His answer was, ‘If Riaz Pasha, who is my worst enemy,
were to come to see me, what should I do? I should meet him with a band
of music at the door. When we fear a man we meet him with a smile; dark
looks would bring endless trouble on our heads.’ He seemed less
timorous, however, than Shemsi, though he too had been in prison, and
came in the evening to repay our visit.
“Sabunji has got tired of being at Matarieh, and has come into the town.
This is foolish of him as he may get into trouble, but I have told him
we must all be off back to Suez to-morrow. Husseyn Bey came again at
nightfall to say that my visit to the prison is known, and that the
sentries have been put under arrest. He wants me to write to Baring to
ask his protection. If I do, I must of course tell Baring that I went
without his permission. It is curious that of all the people I have seen
not one will hear of English annexation, even as an escape from
imprisonment and persecution. They all declare they would then revolt
against any odds.
“_2nd Oct._—This morning Baring’s answer has come. He regrets that he
‘cannot give me the order asked for to visit the prison, such matters
being settled by the Egyptian Government, etc.’ Rot! I shall write and
tell him I have seen the prisoners, and recommend them to his
protection.” I did so in a letter dated 3rd October, with the speedy and
satisfactory result that on the 6th October Sir Evelyn Baring wrote the
following short dispatch to Lord Granville:
“I have the honour to inclose a copy of an important circular issued to
the Mudirs of the several provinces by the Minister of the Interior. It
is to be hoped that the issue of this circular will have the effect of
clearing the gaols of all persons who are improperly or unnecessarily
detained in prison.” And again 10th October: “I have the honour to
inclose herewith, extracted from the ‘Moniteur Egyptien’ of the 9th
inst., a decree granting a general amnesty to all offenders accused of
crimes connected with the rebellion, except to those accused of murder
or rape.”
Saad Zagloul and the rest of those with him in prison were consequently
released. I learned the news a few weeks later in Ceylon, and that it
was due to my intervention, though I cannot remember that any of the
prisoners wrote personally to thank me. My action on their behalf was, I
believe, a chief reason for my exclusion from Egypt during the following
three years, for Baring resented my interference with what ought to have
been his sole business. There is a passage in his “Modern Egypt” which
displays his displeasure and makes complaint of my correspondence with
Mr. Gladstone through Hamilton. His representations, however, to the
Foreign Office that it should be discontinued did not have the full
effect he supposes, though it made Hamilton cautious. Gladstone’s answer
to Granville, which Cromer with somewhat puerile malice quotes, proves
nothing more than that the two Ministers were in different camps about
Egypt, and that Gladstone was anxious to minimize to his colleague the
attention he paid to my opinion. Granville never forgave my action in
Egypt in 1882, but Gladstone knew that I had been right, though he did
not dare avow it publicly. He allowed Hamilton still to remain in touch
with me, as will be seen in the course of the present volume, as long as
he was in office. All that Cromer was able to effect when he discovered
that I had told the Prime Minister the truth, was that having shortly
after assumed the _rôle_ of masterly Resident he decreed my exclusion
from Egypt, and induced the Foreign Office to support him in continuing
it till 1886. My relations, however, with the other side of Downing
Street continued on a friendly footing as long as Gladstone remained in
power, while Cromer himself some years afterwards came round to my views
and tried to get up a native Egyptian Ministry favourable to England out
of the _débris_ of the Nationalist Party, going even to the length of
consulting me about those capable of composing it; but it was then too
late, and English policy in Egypt has floundered ever since in a
Serbonian bog of irreconcilable native hostility. He would have done
better to have taken my advice in 1883.
“The ‘Phare d’Alexandrie’ has a long article describing the displeasure
of the Khedive at my arrival, and at the visits paid me by relations of
the exiles, and there is also rather a nice paragraph in an Arabic paper
saying that I had returned to Cairo, and that feasts would have been
prepared for me, but those who should have been my hosts were no longer
there—strangers had come to eat up the banquet. We have left Cairo for
Suez. Gerouais was at the station to see us off with Sabunji, who, thank
God, has not been arrested.”
This is my last entry while in Egypt that year. From Cairo and again
from Suez I wrote two long letters to Hamilton for Mr. Gladstone’s
reading, one on 28th September, two days after I had seen Baring, and a
second on 3rd October, immediately before embarking for Ceylon. These
will be found in the Appendix.
The next six months, following on this brief visit to Cairo, were spent
by me in Ceylon and India, an account of which will be found already
published in my volume, “India under Ripon.” The only thing I did that
winter of importance for Egypt more than is there recorded was to obtain
from Arabi and his companions in exile at Colombo a clear statement of
the policy they would recommend, drawn up more or less on the lines of
Arabi’s memorandum of the year before, with such additions to it as the
events of the intervening twelve months might have suggested, especially
in regard to the Soudan and Dufferin’s unworkable charter. The document,
embodied in a letter I sent to the “Times” on 5th November and published
13th December, is one of historical importance, and will be found in the
Appendix.
It reiterates the truth which underlay the whole Egyptian position,
namely, that the supposed necessity of maintaining Tewfik on the
Khedivial throne at Cairo must, if persisted in, vitiate any attempt to
restore self-government to the Egyptians, or to free England from the
prolonged responsibility of protecting him with an occupying force. It
suggests in what way Constitutional Government could be restored, and
enumerates a variety of reforms, most of which have been subsequently
made part of English policy. About the Soudan, too, the affairs of which
were about to become a main subject of interest for those responsible
for Egypt’s welfare, it contains a remarkable paragraph, which may be
taken as the text of what will be found in the following few chapters of
this volume. And be it noted that at the time it was written, 3rd
November, no one at Cairo, still less in London, had begun to perceive
the truth that other than military means were necessary to deal with the
situation created by the Mahdi’s rebellion, if a great misfortune, both
for Egypt and for the Soudan, was to be avoided. Arabi, who as
Nationalist Minister of War in 1882, had been responsible for the
appointment of Abd-el-Kader Pasha to the post of Governor-General at
Khartoum, and who in the common interests of the two countries had put
himself into communication with the Mahdi, and was to a certain point in
sympathy with the cause Mohammed Ahmed represented as being that of a
revolt against the Turco-Circassian tyranny they had alike suffered
from, was in a far better position to understand how the difficulty
should be dealt with than any of those in whose hands its solution now
lay, and it is certain that, had he been able to maintain himself
against Wolseley at Tel-el-Kebir, no difficulty whatever would have
arisen in regard to retaining Khartoum, or even eventually of recovering
the lost provinces, had such been in the designs of nationalized Egypt.
The passage is as follows:
“Although he (Arabi) is of opinion that a certain connection will always
be necessary between the lower and upper waters of the Nile, he holds
that in the present military and financial position of Egypt it is
unwise to attempt the reconquest of all or, perhaps, of any of the lost
provinces. He believes that the movement of the so-called Mahdi is not
one merely of fanaticism, or that it is only a revolt of the slave-
dealers. He thinks that Mohammed Ahmed commands the goodwill of the
inhabitants, and that it would be far wiser for the Egyptian Government
to come to terms with him than to continue their military operations
against him. The Soudan brings nothing into the Cairo treasury, and if
Egypt is to enjoy liberty at home she should avoid ideas of conquest
abroad. The terms that could be made with the Mahdi Arabi has been too
long out of Egypt to judge; but from the communications which reached
him while in power he does not believe a friendly arrangement admitting
Egypt’s suzerainty impossible. The suzerainty of Egypt the Soudanese
would probably be glad to admit, for it would protect them against
European aggression.”
This question of the Soudan was being already much discussed among the
exiles while I was in Ceylon, though the defeat of Hicks was not yet
known. And, as it was to become a main subject of interest to us all
during the next two years, I may as well here present the general case
of it as it appeared to Nationalist eyes, for it will enable readers
better to understand both my own point of view and that prevalent at the
time in Egypt. It will serve, too, as a corrective to the false light in
which it is seen and described by nearly all European writers, who fail
to understand that Europe itself was the sole responsible cause of the
trouble. This is how I, looking at the matter, so to say, with Oriental
eyes, saw and see it.
The revolt in the Soudan stood in close analogy with that in Lower
Egypt. Both had a double character, beginning as the natural rebellion
of a people against long misgovernment, and taking later a religious
complexion when Christian Europe had intervened in support of the
tyrannical ruler against the people. The only difference between the two
cases lay in the fact that, whereas in Egypt the reformers were
enlightened men, representing the humaner and more progressive side of
Islam, the Soudanese reformers were reactionary and fanatical. It cannot
be too strongly insisted on that the great, the capital wrong committed
by our English Government in 1882 was less the destruction of the hopes
of free government in Egypt as a nation, than the treacherous blow its
armed intervention struck everywhere at the aspirations of liberal
Islam. Arabi, a devout but the least fanatical of Moslems, had come in
1882 to represent not Egypt only, but every Mohammedan land alarmed at
the encroachment of Christendom and looking to constitutional reform as
its surest safety. And it was just this leader of reform that
constitutional and Liberal England chose to strike down. What wonder
then that the defeat at Tel-el-Kebir should have been taken through all
Mohammedan lands as a set back to reform, an impulse to reaction? At
Constantinople it had the immediate effect of putting all power into the
hands of the Sultan Abdul Hamid’s fanatical following, and of enabling
him to crush what remained of the constitutional party and the party of
religious liberalism. In Persia it had consequences of much the same
reactionary nature, and throughout North Africa it determined the whole
character of religious thought on lines of fiercely bitter hatred of
Christendom. The French invasion of Tunis had been answered by the
counter-move of the fighting fraternity of the Senussia. The English
invasion of Egypt was answered by Mohammed Ahmed’s appearance in the
Soudan as Mahdi. It made it therefore imperative in 1883, if the Soudan
was not to be lost to the fanatics, that without delay a liberal
Mohammedan Government should be restored at Cairo capable of attracting
to it the humaner elements of Islam, and pitting them against the less
humane. Had this been done by the end of the year 1882, and the English
army withdrawn from Cairo, the situation at Khartoum could have been
saved without recourse to arms. Otherwise an English occupation of
Khartoum was the sole alternative to an immediate and complete
abandonment of the whole of the Upper Nile.
What was done, as we know, was to take neither one course nor the other.
It was decided that Tewfik was to be maintained at Cairo, propped up by
British bayonets; and at Khartoum that his authority was to be restored
without any military propping whatever—the authority of Tewfik, who had
come to be regarded as a renegade to Islam, almost as a _Kafr_, the
docile servant of a Christian Power! Was it to be expected that the
Soudanese, a fiercely Mohammedan population, proud of their Arab descent
and of their anti-crusading ancestry, should accept the domination of
one so contemptible, re-imposed on them by a Christian general and
without a Christian army at his back? Naturally and inevitably, no!
There was, besides, a special reason for anger against Tewfik, which I
do not find recorded in any history of the time, but which largely
contributed to the detestation in which he was held among the Soudanese.
One of the first acts of the restored regime at Cairo had been to arrest
the supreme head of the Malekite rite, which is that prevalent in the
Soudan and throughout North Africa, Sheykh El Aleysh, a venerable and
highly revered personage, who was treated with the utmost indignity,
and, as was currently reported, was done to death in prison by the
Khedive’s order. The news of this impiety was to the Soudanese a new
proof of Tewfik’s apostate character, and made a reconciliation between
him and them doubly impossible. Add to it the folly of recalling Abd-el-
Kader, and replacing him with the corrupt and incapable Court favourite
Ala-ed-Din Pasha, and giving him Hicks, an Englishman, but without an
English military backing, as his Chief of the Staff, and we see the full
madness from a Moslem point of view of the attempt made in the spring of
1883 to retain the Soudan; while perhaps the crowning folly of all was
to reinforce the Khedivial garrison at Khartoum with the broken remnants
of Arabi’s army disbanded after Tel-el-Kebir, and recruited afresh for
Tewfik’s service. Colonel Stewart, who was sent by Dufferin that winter
of 1882-83 to report on the condition of things in the Soudan, describes
the army Hicks was about to command as a congregation of raw
undisciplined recruits mixed with others on the point of mutiny. “The
question,” he says, “is whether they will remain faithful or desert,
knowing as they will that the Mahdi will not harm them. . . . At one of
the late skirmishes they were heard complaining, ‘O Effendina Arabi! If
you knew the position Tewfik has placed us in.’”
Certain historians have laid stress on the distinction to be drawn
between the policy of sending Hicks to hold Khartoum and the insanity of
sending him, with an army so disaffected and so ready to mutiny, against
the Mahdi in Kordofan. Hicks, they say, might have held his own at
Khartoum if the Egyptian Government had been content to leave him there.
I see no warrant for believing this. Hicks did his best and was a
gallant officer, but he was from the first a doomed man, as Gordon after
him was doomed. The fact of their Christianity, and of their holding
Tewfik’s commission, made it impossible for either of them to succeed in
stemming the rebellion; and, though both were able to hold out for a
while, nothing but a backing of European troops could have saved them
from failure. Hicks, just as Gordon did, gained at the outset an
ephemeral advantage, but only to be replied to by the revolt of the
Eastern provinces in favour of the Madhi; and, left without English
help, he would have been beleaguered at Khartoum, as Gordon was, and
compelled, as Gordon was, to surrender. His advance into Kordofan only
accelerated his ruin.
As to this expedition, for which Tewfik and his Ministers and Malet were
jointly responsible, it has been the fashion to consider it an act of
reckless folly on the part of the Egyptian Government, of lack of
intelligent prescience on the part of Malet. It was in my opinion
something more criminal than this. On the part of the Khedive and
Sherif, and especially of Omar Lutfi, the Minister of War, it was a
deliberate scheme to rid themselves of the last remnant of Arabi’s rebel
army and of an English officer obnoxious to their plans. They wanted, or
at least Tewfik wanted, a vengeance on the regiments which had headed
the revolt against him in 1881, a vengeance which had been denied him by
the amnesty after Tel-el-Kebir; while none of them wanted English
interference in the affairs of the Soudan. Be it remembered that Hicks’s
soldiers included Arabi’s own regiment of the Guard, or what was left of
it, and that Omar Lutfi, who had contrived with Tewfik the Alexandria
riots, had sent them to the Soudan in chains. Hicks and his regiments of
old Arabists, we may be quite sure, were ordered deliberately to their
death at Obeid. All Tewfik’s attitude towards Gordon later was in
accordance with this reading of the Hicks expedition, and it is the only
reading that explains what otherwise would remain an inexplicable act of
madness. As to Malet, he was, in this, as in all else, the Khedive’s too
facile dupe, his unconscious accomplice, just as he had been his dupe in
the case of the Alexandria massacre. He believed what Tewfik told him,
and did not look beyond. Nothing is more remarkable than the easy
indifference displayed by Malet in his published correspondence of that
summer as to all that was going on in the Soudan. Hicks saw the danger
and everybody else saw it. Malet saw nothing or saw only what the
Khedive told him. He did not care to see more.
An additional proof of this, if any be needed besides that of the Blue
Books, is supplied to me, though a negative one only, by my own talk
with Baring at Cairo in September, and the record of it already given. I
remember that in it, though our discussion ranged over the whole field
of his Egyptian difficulties, he did not so much as allude to the Soudan
as being one of those he had immediately to face—a remarkable omission
when it is considered that he had just been spending ten days with Malet
at his elbow, who must have had full time to bring his knowledge of
every branch of the Egyptian question up to date. Like Malet, Lord
Cromer’s lack of foresight during the whole of the first two months of
his arrival is most noticeable in the Blue Books. These show that his
sole anxiety in those last months before the storm broke in the Soudan
was the financial difficulty. His only reference to danger in that
quarter is where he records a conversation on 26th October with an
unnamed gentleman, who described the finance of the Soudan to him as
“_un trou inconnu_.” Of other than the financial danger there is not a
word. In his “Modern Egypt,” Cromer excuses himself from all
responsibility in regard to Hicks, by saying that Hicks had already
started on his campaign three days before his, Cromer’s, arrival. But
this is not strictly true.
Hicks, though he left Khartoum on the 8th September, remained on in camp
on the Nile bank at Duem till the 26th, and could have been still
recalled by telegraph had Cromer so insisted. What is true is that
Cromer did not foresee the consequences, as Malet did not foresee them.
Otherwise how is it possible to account for the optimism of his dispatch
of 6th October, where, in complete ignorance of the perils threatening
the restored regime, he wrote his confident dispatch reporting that
order having been now completely restored “the British garrison of Cairo
might with safety be withdrawn”? A small force of 3,000 men, to be
retained at Alexandria not as an army any longer of occupation but of
observation only, would, he assured Lord Granville, be “amply sufficient
to maintain the honour of Her Majesty’s arms against any force that it
may be supposed with any degree of probability it may have to
encounter.” I, as a stranger spending a week at Cairo, had found out
more than this; and Granville had hardly agreed to the evacuation before
the storm broke, and it was already too late to apply any remedy short
of the dispatch to Khartoum of a British army.
To bring my narrative back to the historical date at which I left it.
The rapid sequence of events was startling. On the 1st November news
reached Cairo that Captain Moncrieff, British Consul at Suakin, with 500
Egyptian troops in garrison there, having gone forth to give battle to
the rebels at Tokar on the Red Sea littoral, had been surprised and
slain. On the 19th November the first rumour of Hicks’s defeat was
received, and two days later, the 21st, knowledge came of the full
disaster. The whole of the Soudan west and south of Khartoum was
reported to be in insurrection, as well as the Eastern provinces; and
Colonel Coetlogon, the English officer left by Hicks in charge of the
Khartoum garrison, was telegraphing that Khartoum itself could not be
held “unless immediately succoured.” All then was for some weeks in
confusion at the Cairo War Office, and hardly less in London. Cromer, on
the very first news, one can hardly say otherwise than in a panic, had
advised the abandonment of the whole Soudan, and by return of telegraph
Lord Granville had agreed, and the necessary order of evacuation had
been given to the Egyptian Government. Some more weeks had then been
wasted in distracted counsels, and, on the 14th January 1884, Gordon was
dispatched on his mission to Khartoum. It was in this brief order that I
learned the events while travelling in India, and that the news about
Gordon reached me at Delhi. It was then that I wrote him that too
prophetic letter, the text of which is given in my “India under Ripon,”
warning him of the treachery of those who were sending him on his
mission and foretelling his defeat and death. For the convenience of my
present readers, I reprint it here in the Appendix.