COURSCHID PACHA.
A new viceroy is enthroned in Cairo, the viceroy Courschid Pacha,
and it is again the old story of wars, want of money, and oppression
of the people.
Courschid Pacha! What is he but a continuation of all the other
viceroys, governors, and caimacans who have ruled in Cairo since
Egypt has belonged to the Turkish empire? New taxes, new extortion,
and new wars. For the Mameluke beys have assembled on the plain of
Gheezeh and formed new plans, recruited their ranks with Arabians
and Nubians, and prepared to take the field against the rulers in
Cairo, and above all against their most hated enemy, the pacha
Mohammed Ali.
Such was the dignity conferred upon Mohammed by Courschid Pacha,
upon his entrance into Cairo, in the name of the grand sultan.
It is not to war against Courschid Pacha that the Mamelukes are
assembling their forces. To destroy Mohammed Ali, the soldier-king,
the real ruler in Cairo, is their aim; and, in order to accomplish
this, they even humble themselves before the viceroy, who is already
involved in a conflict with Mohammed. They seek to treat with him,
and with the grand-admiral of the Turkish fleet, sent by the Sublime
Porte to Alexandria to restore peace to the distracted country. To
him, the grand-admiral, the Mameluke beys address a letter offering
their services:
"The undersigned, knowing that your highness has come to Egypt to
put an end to the anarchy that prevails, offer, in the name of all
the beys, to unite their forces with those of Courschid Pacha, and
to assist him and your highness in all you may do and undertake,
provided Mohammed Ali and the Albanians be driven from the country."
This proposition receives the approval of Courschid Pacha, who hates
Mohammed as heartily as the Mamelukes do! Mohammed is the people's
idol. To him they apply for relief from oppression, and, whenever
there is any thing to be demanded of the viceroy, it is Mohammed,
supported by the cadis and sheiks, who loudly demands that right and
justice be done. Merely this: "Right and justice!" But this it is
that Courschid cannot accord them. He cannot accord right and
justice, he who is always in want and danger, he who is suffering
with the disease that has so long cursed the viceroys of Egypt--want
of money. When money is needed, it must be had, even if extorted
from the inhabitants of Cairo and its vicinity. And Mohammed often
interposes and prevents Courschid from executing his money-raising
schemes.
Courschid Pacha, incensed by this interference, complains to the
sultan at Stamboul, and requests that the sarecbsme, Mohammed Ali,
be relieved from duty at Cairo, and assigned to duty elsewhere. At
the same time, in order to make himself independent of the
Albanians, who are wholly under the influence of Mohammed Ali, he
causes a body of troops to be brought to Cairo for himself, a body
of Delis, wild, lawless troops, who carry terror and dismay wherever
they go. These Delis are now seen in Egypt for the first time; the
viceroy treats them tenderly, and Courschid, who has money for no
one else, has money for his Delis; and when he has none, he delivers
over to their mercy some village in the vicinity of Cairo, out of
which they pay themselves by pillage.
At last a day came when the people, so long bowed down in the dust,
arose like a lion, and refused to yield longer to such oppression.
"We will endure this no more; we will submit to this injustice and
oppression no longer!"
The cadis and sheiks repair to the citadel to announce the
determination of the people to the viceroy.
"The people refuse to submit further to this oppression. Neither
they nor we will endure it."
They say this to his face, proudly, fearlessly. He replies fiercely:
"I will hurl death into your midst if the people are not brought
back to humility and obedience, for I am your master--I alone!"
"You are our master while we recognize you as such, and no longer,"
replied the cadi, turning and leaving the room, followed by the
sheiks.
In the streets below he announces to the people: "Justice is not to
be obtained of Courschid Pacha, and we will submit to him no more!"
"No, we can and will not submit," say the cadi and sheiks, who,
accompanied by thousands of the people, have repaired to the palace
of the sarechsme.
"We announce to you, Mohammed Ali, in the name of the whole people,
we will recognize and obey Courschid Pacha no longer. This man's
cruelty and injustice are no longer to be endured."
"We declare him removed from his office; we declare him deposed from
the throne," cried the cadi, solemnly; and the sheiks repeat the
cry: "We declare him removed from his office; we declare him deposed
from the throne!"
And in the streets without, the people shout exultingly: "We declare
him deposed from the throne!"
Mohammed listens to these unusual outcries, and his countenance is
grave and solemn.
"You depose him from the throne, O cadi! But whom will you put in
his place?"
He asks the question slowly and quietly, and no one knows how wildly
his heart throbs within him. He is aware that the crisis is at hand,
and that what he has dreamed of since his boyhood, and worked and
toiled for during four long years, is now about to be decided. "Whom
will you put in his place?"
"Yourself, Mohammed Ali!" cried the cadi, solemnly. "Yes; you must
rule in Courschid Pauha's stead, for we are convinced that your aim
will be the welfare of the people."
"Me!" said Mohammed Ali, recoiling a step as if startled, and the
pallor which overspread his face could have been caused by alarm as
well as by joy.
"No, it is impossible, you cannot select me; I am not worthy of so
great an honor."
"You are worthy of this honor, and the people invest you with it
through me," cried the cadi. "Come, Mohammed Ali, Caimacan of Cairo,
our governor and master! I proclaim you to be such, in the name of
the people."
While Mohammed silently shakes his head, the cadi hastily throws
open the wide doors that lead out upon the balcony of the house,
steps out and proclaims, in such loud tones that the assembled
thousands who fill the spacious square can hear him:
"Coursechid Pacha is deposed, and we elect Mohammed Ali Pacha to be
our governor! Is this your will?"
"It is our will!" shout the populace, exultingly. "Courschid is
deposed, and Mohammed Ali is our governor! Long live Mohammed Ali!"
His head bowed down on his breast, Mohammed stands listening to the
grateful words: "Long live Mohammed Ali!"
The cadi re-enters the apartment. "You have heard their voice! Now
show yourself to the people. They have chosen you. Step out upon the
balcony with us, that they may salute you."
"It shall be as you say," said he, after a pause. "The people call
me, and I will greet them. May Allah assist me in advancing their
welfare!"
The cadi takes his hand and leads him out. Without, the assembled
thousands shout exultingly: "Long live our new governor! Our
caimacan! Our viceroy! Long live Mohammed Ali Pacha!"
These strains resound so loudly through the city, that they reach
the citadel. Everywhere in the streets exulting voices cry:
"Courschid Pacba is deposed, and Mohammed Ali is our governor!"
"I am alone viceroy here in Cairo," is the burden of a missive
penned by Courschid in the citadel, and, sent down by him to the
cadi and sheiks. "I alone am viceroy. Upon me the grand-sultan at
Stamboul has conferred this dignity, and a message will soon come
from our master announcing to you his decision with regard to the
rebel, Mohammed Ali. Until then I will assert my authority, and I
appeal to all faithful subjects, and to all who do not wish to
hazard their future with the rebels, and to perish with them, to
rally to the support of their lawful ruler."
And large numbers did so, many fearing, no doubt, the decision
expected from Stamboul.
But Mohammed was undaunted, and besieged the citadel of Cairo with
his faithful Albanians.
The bloody struggle arose between the besiegers and the besieged.
The cannon thundered death and destruction into the city, and, when
vigorous sorties occurred, the conflict sometimes surged far down
into the streets. But finally, after four days of fierce fighting,
the expected message arrived from Stamboul, and an unexpected one it
proved to be, to the viceroy, Courschid Pacha.
The grand-vizier had sent one of his confidants with the capidgi
bashi, with instructions to investigate, and make himself thoroughly
acquainted with the state of things, and learn who was right, and
who wrong; and the capidgi, and his associate, had done so; and now,
upon their arrival in Cairo, they summoned the cadi and sheiks, and
announced to them, and to Mohammed Ali, the firman of the grand-
sultan: "Mohammed Ali is confirmed in his office of Governor of
Cairo and Viceroy of Egypt; and the deposed viceroy, Courschid
Pacha, is ordered to repair to Alexandria, there to await the
further orders of his master."
A copy of this firman is sent up to the citadel, and Courschid
commanded to surrender the fortress, and leave the city immediately.
He at first declined to surrender, and demanded an interview with
the capidgi bashi and his associate. This was, however, refused him,
and he was at last compelled to yield, and give up the citadel.
Through the little side-gate that leads down to the Nile, Courschid,
accompanied by a few faithful followers, left the citadel, and was
conveyed in boats, that lay in readiness, down the river to Boulak.
From there, after a brief sojourn, he continued his journey to
Alexandria, and then on to Stamboul.
While Courschid is descending the secret stairway to leave the
citadel, Mohammed All and his warriors are ascending the hill in
triumph, marching to the strains of stirring military music. The
garrison of the fortress lay down their arms, and all cry,
exultingly: "Long live Mohammed Ali, our new viceroy!" He still
hears it as he enters the grand apartment where Courschid has been
in the habit of receiving him. He still hears it as he steps out
upon the wall of the fortress, and looks down upon the wondrous
city, at the Nile, at the palm-trees on the green shore beyond, and
at the yellow desert, on whose verge the pyramids tower aloft.
"Long live our new viceroy, Mohammed Ali!"
This cry resounds from a thousand voices, and Mohammed gazes out
upon the beautiful, heavenly world that is now his own, and an
ecstasy that almost makes his heart stand still, possesses his soul.
"Long live the Viceroy of Egypt!"
"I have reached my goal. I am the viceroy. They greet me with shouts
of joy, and wish me a long life. I will endeavor to reward them.
Poor, bleeding Egypt, shall progress under my rule. I will endeavor
to bring prosperity and happiness to those who have suffered so
much. This I swear, by Allah! I will raise this poor land up out of
the dust. Yes, I swear it, by Allah!"