THE RIVER WAR
An Account of the Reconquest of the Sudan
(1902 edition)
By Winston S. Churchill
CONTENTS:
Chapter
I. The Rebellion of the Mahdi
II. The Fate of the Envoy
III. The Dervish Empire
IV. The Years of Preparation
V. The Beginning of War
VI. Firket
VII. The Recovery of the Dongola Province
VIII. The Desert Railway
IX. Abu Hamed
X. Berber
XI. Reconnaissance
XII. The Battle of the Atbara
XIII. The Grand Advance
XIV. The Operations of the First of September
XV. The Battle of Omdurman
XVI. The Fall of the City
XVII. 'The Fashoda Incident'
XVIII On the Blue Nile
XIX. The End of the Khalifa
APPENDIX B
____________________________________________________________________
THE SOUDAN
>>> to illustrate the military operations <<<
1896-1898
|* Wady Halfa
/
(The Nile) /
_/
|
\_
/
| __* Abu Hamed
| _/ \
Dongola *\ _/ \ Suakin *
\ Merawi / \
\ */ \
\_ _ / \ Berber
\*
/\__ (The Atbara River)
_/ \_
Metemma */ \
/
|
Omdurman */
Khartoum /*\_
| \_
| \_ (The Blue Nile)
\ \
KORDOFAN \
|
(The White Nile)
____________________________________________________________________
CHAPTER I: THE REBELLION OF THE MAHDI
The north-eastern quarter of the continent of Africa is drained and
watered by the Nile. Among and about the headstreams and tributaries
of this mighty river lie the wide and fertile provinces of the Egyptian
Soudan. Situated in the very centre of the land, these remote regions
are on every side divided from the seas by five hundred miles of
mountain, swamp, or desert. The great river is their only means of
growth, their only channel of progress. It is by the Nile alone that
their commerce can reach the outer markets, or European civilisation can
penetrate the inner darkness. The Soudan is joined to Egypt by the Nile,
as a diver is connected with the surface by his air-pipe. Without it
there is only suffocation. Aut Nilus, aut nihil!
The town of Khartoum, at the confluence of the Blue and White Niles, is
the point on which the trade of the south must inevitably converge. It
is the great spout through which the merchandise collected from a wide
area streams northwards to the Mediterranean shore. It marks the extreme
northern limit of the fertile Soudan. Between Khartoum and Assuan the
river flows for twelve hundred miles through deserts of surpassing
desolation. At last the wilderness recedes and the living world broadens
out again into Egypt and the Delta. It is with events that have occurred
in the intervening waste that these pages are concerned.
The real Soudan, known to the statesman and the explorer, lies far
to the south--moist, undulating, and exuberant. But there is another
Soudan, which some mistake for the true, whose solitudes oppress the
Nile from the Egyptian frontier to Omdurman. This is the Soudan of the
soldier. Destitute of wealth or future, it is rich in history. The names
of its squalid villages are familiar to distant and enlightened peoples.
The barrenness of its scenery has been drawn by skilful pen and pencil.
Its ample deserts have tasted the blood of brave men. Its hot, black
rocks have witnessed famous tragedies. It is the scene of the war.
This great tract, which may conveniently be called 'The Military
Soudan,' stretches with apparent indefiniteness over the face of the
continent. Level plains of smooth sand--a little rosier than buff, a
little paler than salmon--are interrupted only by occasional peaks of
rock--black, stark, and shapeless. Rainless storms dance tirelessly over
the hot, crisp surface of the ground. The fine sand, driven by the wind,
gathers into deep drifts, and silts among the dark rocks of the hills,
exactly as snow hangs about an Alpine summit; only it is a fiery snow,
such as might fall in hell. The earth burns with the quenchless thirst
of ages, and in the steel-blue sky scarcely a cloud obstructs the
unrelenting triumph of the sun.
Through the desert flows the river--a thread of blue silk drawn across
an enormous brown drugget; and even this thread is brown for half the
year. Where the water laps the sand and soaks into the banks there grows
an avenue of vegetation which seems very beautiful and luxuriant by
contrast with what lies beyond. The Nile, through all the three thousand
miles of its course vital to everything that lives beside it, is never
so precious as here. The traveller clings to the strong river as to an
old friend, staunch in the hour of need. All the world blazes, but
here is shade. The deserts are hot, but the Nile is cool. The land is
parched, but here is abundant water. The picture painted in burnt sienna
is relieved by a grateful flash of green.
Yet he who had not seen the desert or felt the sun heavily on his
shoulders would hardly admire the fertility of the riparian scrub.
Unnourishing reeds and grasses grow rank and coarse from the water's
edge. The dark, rotten soil between the tussocks is cracked and
granulated by the drying up of the annual flood. The character of the
vegetation is inhospitable. Thorn-bushes, bristling like hedgehogs
and thriving arrogantly, everywhere predominate and with their prickly
tangles obstruct or forbid the path. Only the palms by the brink are
kindly, and men journeying along the Nile must look often towards their
bushy tops, where among the spreading foliage the red and yellow glint
of date clusters proclaims the ripening of a generous crop, and protests
that Nature is not always mischievous and cruel.
The banks of the Nile, except by contrast with the desert, display
an abundance of barrenness. Their characteristic is monotony. Their
attraction is their sadness. Yet there is one hour when all is changed.
Just before the sun sets towards the western cliffs a delicious flush
brightens and enlivens the landscape. It is as though some Titanic
artist in an hour of inspiration were retouching the picture, painting
in dark purple shadows among the rocks, strengthening the lights on the
sands, gilding and beautifying everything, and making the whole scene
live. The river, whose windings make it look like a lake, turns from
muddy brown to silver-grey. The sky from a dull blue deepens into violet
in the west. Everything under that magic touch becomes vivid and alive.
And then the sun sinks altogether behind the rocks, the colors fade out
of the sky, the flush off the sands, and gradually everything darkens
and grows grey--like a man's cheek when he is bleeding to death. We are
left sad and sorrowful in the dark, until the stars light up and remind
us that there is always something beyond.
In a land whose beauty is the beauty of a moment, whose face is
desolate, and whose character is strangely stern, the curse of war
was hardly needed to produce a melancholy effect. Why should there be
caustic plants where everything is hot and burning? In deserts where
thirst is enthroned, and where the rocks and sand appeal to a pitiless
sky for moisture, it was a savage trick to add the mockery of mirage.
The area multiplies the desolation. There is life only by the Nile. If a
man were to leave the river, he might journey westward and find no human
habitation, nor the smoke of a cooking fire, except the lonely tent of a
Kabbabish Arab or the encampment of a trader's caravan, till he reached
the coast-line of America. Or he might go east and find nothing but sand
and sea and sun until Bombay rose above the horizon. The thread of
fresh water is itself solitary in regions where all living things lack
company.
In the account of the River War the Nile is naturally supreme. It is
the great melody that recurs throughout the whole opera. The general
purposing military operations, the statesman who would decide upon grave
policies, and the reader desirous of studying the course and results
of either, must think of the Nile. It is the life of the lands through
which it flows. It is the cause of the war: the means by which we fight;
the end at which we aim. Imagination should paint the river through
every page in the story. It glitters between the palm-trees during the
actions. It is the explanation of nearly every military movement. By
its banks the armies camp at night. Backed or flanked on its unfordable
stream they offer or accept battle by day. To its brink, morning and
evening, long lines of camels, horses, mules, and slaughter cattle hurry
eagerly. Emir and Dervish, officer and soldier, friend and foe, kneel
alike to this god of ancient Egypt and draw each day their daily water
in goatskin or canteen. Without the river none would have started.
Without it none might have continued. Without it none could ever have
returned.
All who journey on the Nile, whether in commerce or war, will pay their
tribute of respect and gratitude; for the great river has befriended
all races and every age. Through all the centuries it has performed
the annual miracle of its flood. Every year when the rains fall and the
mountain snows of Central Africa begin to melt, the head-streams become
torrents and the great lakes are filled to the brim. A vast expanse of
low, swampy lands, crossed by secondary channels and flooded for many
miles, regulates the flow, and by a sponge-like action prevents the
excess of one year from causing the deficiency of the next. Far away
in Egypt, prince, priest, and peasant look southwards with anxious
attention for the fluctuating yet certain rise. Gradually the flood
begins. The Bahr-el-Ghazal from a channel of stagnant pools and marshes
becomes a broad and navigable stream. The Sobat and the Atbara from dry
watercourses with occasional pools, in which the fish and crocodiles
are crowded, turn to rushing rivers. But all this is remote from Egypt.
After its confluence with the Atbara no drop of water reaches the Nile,
and it flows for seven hundred miles through the sands or rushes in
cataracts among the rocks of the Nubian desert. Nevertheless, in spite
of the tremendous diminution in volume caused by the dryness of the
earth and air and the heat of the sun--all of which drink greedily--the
river below Assuan is sufficiently great to supply nine millions of
people with as much water as their utmost science and energies can draw,
and yet to pour into the Mediterranean a low-water surplus current of
61,500 cubic feet per second. Nor is its water its only gift. As the
Nile rises its complexion is changed. The clear blue river becomes thick
and red, laden with the magic mud that can raise cities from the desert
sand and make the wilderness a garden. The geographer may still in
the arrogance of science describe the Nile as 'a great, steady-flowing
river, fed by the rains of the tropics, controlled by the existence of a
vast head reservoir and several areas of repose, and annually flooded
by the accession of a great body of water with which its eastern
tributaries are flushed' [ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA]; but all who have
drunk deeply of its soft yet fateful waters--fateful, since they give
both life and death--will understand why the old Egyptians worshipped
the river, nor will they even in modern days easily dissociate from
their minds a feeling of mystic reverence.
South of Khartoum and of 'The Military Soudan' the land becomes more
fruitful. The tributaries of the Nile multiply the areas of riparian
fertility. A considerable rainfall, increasing as the Equator is
approached, enables the intervening spaces to support vegetation and
consequently human life. The greater part of the country is feverish and
unhealthy, nor can Europeans long sustain the attacks of its climate.
Nevertheless it is by no means valueless. On the east the province of
Sennar used to produce abundant grain, and might easily produce no less
abundant cotton. Westward the vast territories of Kordofan and Darfur
afford grazing-grounds to a multitude of cattle, and give means of
livelihood to great numbers of Baggara or cow-herd Arabs, who may also
pursue with activity and stratagem the fleet giraffe and the still
fleeter ostrich. To the south-east lies Bahr-el-Ghazal, a great tract of
country occupied by dense woods and plentifully watered. Further south
and nearer the Equator the forests and marshes become exuberant with
tropical growths, and the whole face of the land is moist and green.
Amid groves of gigantic trees and through plains of high waving grass
the stately elephant roams in herds which occasionally number four
hundred, hardly ever disturbed by a well-armed hunter. The ivory of
their tusks constitutes the wealth of the Equatorial Province. So
greatly they abound that Emin Pasha is provoked to complain of a pest of
these valuable pachyderms [LIFE OF EMIN PASHA, vol.i chapter ix.]: and
although they are only assailed by the natives with spear and gun, no
less than twelve thousand hundredweight of ivory has been exported in a
single year [Ibid.] All other kinds of large beasts known to man inhabit
these obscure retreats. The fierce rhinoceros crashes through the
undergrowth. Among the reeds of melancholy swamps huge hippopotami,
crocodiles, and buffaloes prosper and increase. Antelope of every known
and many unclassified species; serpents of peculiar venom; countless
millions of birds, butterflies, and beetles are among the offspring
of prolific Nature. And the daring sportsman who should survive his
expedition would not fail to add to the achievements of science and the
extent of natural history as well as to his own reputation.
The human inhabitants of the Soudan would not, but for their vices and
misfortunes, be disproportioned in numbers to the fauna or less happy.
War, slavery, and oppression have, however, afflicted them until the
total population of the whole country does not exceed at the most
liberal estimate three million souls. The huge area contains many
differences of climate and conditions, and these have produced peculiar
and diverse breeds of men. The Soudanese are of many tribes, but two
main races can be clearly distinguished: the aboriginal natives, and the
Arab settlers. The indigenous inhabitants of the country were negroes as
black as coal. Strong, virile, and simple-minded savages, they lived as
we may imagine prehistoric men--hunting, fighting, marrying, and dying,
with no ideas beyond the gratification of their physical desires, and
no fears save those engendered by ghosts, witchcraft, the worship of
ancestors, and other forms of superstition common among peoples of low
development. They displayed the virtues of barbarism. They were brave
and honest. The smallness of their intelligence excused the degradation
of their habits. Their ignorance secured their innocence. Yet their
eulogy must be short, for though their customs, language, and appearance
vary with the districts they inhabit and the subdivisions to which they
belong, the history of all is a confused legend of strife and misery,
their natures are uniformly cruel and thriftless, and their condition is
one of equal squalor and want.
Although the negroes are the more numerous, the Arabs exceed in power.
The bravery of the aboriginals is outweighed by the intelligence of
the invaders and their superior force of character. During the second
century of the Mohammedan era, when the inhabitants of Arabia went
forth to conquer the world, one adventurous army struck south. The first
pioneers were followed at intervals by continual immigrations of Arabs
not only from Arabia but also across the deserts from Egypt and Marocco.
The element thus introduced has spread and is spreading throughout the
Soudan, as water soaks into a dry sponge. The aboriginals absorbed the
invaders they could not repel. The stronger race imposed its customs and
language on the negroes. The vigour of their blood sensibly altered the
facial appearance of the Soudanese. For more than a thousand years
the influence of Mohammedanism, which appears to possess a strange
fascination for negroid races, has been permeating the Soudan, and,
although ignorance and natural obstacles impede the progress of new
ideas, the whole of the black race is gradually adopting the new
religion and developing Arab characteristics. In the districts of the
north, where the original invaders settled, the evolution is complete,
and the Arabs of the Soudan are a race formed by the interbreeding
of negro and Arab, and yet distinct from both. In the more remote and
inaccessible regions which lie to the south and west the negro race
remains as yet unchanged by the Arab influence. And between these
extremes every degree of mixture is to be found. In some tribes pure
Arabic is spoken, and prior to the rise of the Mahdi the orthodox Moslem
faith was practised. In others Arabic has merely modified the ancient
dialects, and the Mohammedan religion has been adapted to the older
superstitions; but although the gap between the Arab-negro and the
negro-pure is thus filled by every intermediate blend, the two races
were at an early date quite distinct.
The qualities of mongrels are rarely admirable, and the mixture of
the Arab and negro types has produced a debased and cruel breed, more
shocking because they are more intelligent than the primitive savages.
The stronger race soon began to prey upon the simple aboriginals; some
of the Arab tribes were camel-breeders; some were goat-herds; some were
Baggaras or cow-herds. But all, without exception, were hunters of men.
To the great slave-market at Jedda a continual stream of negro captives
has flowed for hundreds of years. The invention of gunpowder and the
adoption by the Arabs of firearms facilitated the traffic by placing the
ignorant negroes at a further disadvantage. Thus the situation in the
Soudan for several centuries may be summed up as follows: The dominant
race of Arab invaders was unceasingly spreading its blood, religion,
customs, and language among the black aboriginal population, and at the
same time it harried and enslaved them.
The state of society that arose out of this may be easily imagined. The
warlike Arab tribes fought and brawled among themselves in ceaseless
feud and strife. The negroes trembled in apprehension of capture, or
rose locally against their oppressors. Occasionally an important Sheikh
would effect the combination of many tribes, and a kingdom came into
existence--a community consisting of a military class armed with
guns and of multitudes of slaves, at once their servants and their
merchandise, and sometimes trained as soldiers. The dominion might
prosper viciously till it was overthrown by some more powerful league.
All this was unheeded by the outer world, from which the Soudan is
separated by the deserts, and it seemed that the slow, painful course
of development would be unaided and uninterrupted. But at last the
populations of Europe changed. Another civilisation reared itself above
the ruins of Roman triumph and Mohammedan aspiration--a civilisation
more powerful, more glorious, but no less aggressive. The impulse of
conquest which hurried the French and English to Canada and the Indies,
which sent the Dutch to the Cape and the Spaniards to Peru, spread to
Africa and led the Egyptians to the Soudan. In the year 1819 Mohammed
Ali, availing himself of the disorders alike as an excuse and an
opportunity, sent his son Ismail up the Nile with a great army. The Arab
tribes, torn by dissension, exhausted by thirty years of general war,
and no longer inspired by their neglected religion, offered a weak
resistance. Their slaves, having known the worst of life, were
apathetic. The black aboriginals were silent and afraid. The whole vast
territory was conquered with very little fighting, and the victorious
army, leaving garrisons, returned in triumph to the Delta.
What enterprise that an enlightened community may attempt is more noble
and more profitable than the reclamation from barbarism of fertile
regions and large populations? To give peace to warring tribes, to
administer justice where all was violence, to strike the chains off the
slave, to draw the richness from the soil, to plant the earliest seeds
of commerce and learning, to increase in whole peoples their capacities
for pleasure and diminish their chances of pain--what more beautiful
ideal or more valuable reward can inspire human effort? The act is
virtuous, the exercise invigorating, and the result often extremely
profitable. Yet as the mind turns from the wonderful cloudland of
aspiration to the ugly scaffolding of attempt and achievement, a
succession of opposite ideas arises. Industrious races are displayed
stinted and starved for the sake of an expensive Imperialism which they
can only enjoy if they are well fed. Wild peoples, ignorant of their
barbarism, callous of suffering, careless of life but tenacious of
liberty, are seen to resist with fury the philanthropic invaders, and
to perish in thousands before they are convinced of their mistake. The
inevitable gap between conquest and dominion becomes filled with the
figures of the greedy trader, the inopportune missionary, the ambitious
soldier, and the lying speculator, who disquiet the minds of the
conquered and excite the sordid appetites of the conquerors. And as
the eye of thought rests on these sinister features, it hardly seems
possible for us to believe that any fair prospect is approached by so
foul a path.
From 1819 to 1883 Egypt ruled the Soudan. Her rule was not kindly,
wise, or profitable. Its aim was to exploit, not to improve the local
population. The miseries of the people were aggravated rather than
lessened: but they were concealed. For the rough injustice of the
sword there were substituted the intricacies of corruption and bribery.
Violence and plunder were more hideous, since they were cloaked with
legality and armed with authority. The land was undeveloped and poor.
It barely sustained its inhabitants. The additional burden of a
considerable foreign garrison and a crowd of rapacious officials
increased the severity of the economic conditions. Scarcity
was frequent. Famines were periodical. Corrupt and incapable
Governors-General succeeded each other at Khartoum with bewildering
rapidity. The constant changes, while they prevented the continuity
of any wise policy, did not interrupt the misrule. With hardly any
exceptions, the Pashas were consistent in oppression. The success of
their administration was measured by the Ministries in Egypt by the
amount of money they could extort from the natives; among the officials
in the Soudan, by the number of useless offices they could create. There
were a few bright examples of honest men, but these, by providing a
contrast, only increased the discontents.
The rule of Egypt was iniquitous: yet it preserved the magnificent
appearance of Imperial dominion. The Egyptian Pro-consul lived in state
at the confluence of the Niles. The representatives of foreign Powers
established themselves in the city. The trade of the south converged
upon Khartoum. Thither the subordinate governors, Beys and Mudirs,
repaired at intervals to report the state of their provinces and to
receive instructions. Thither were sent the ivory of Equatoria, the
ostrich feathers of Kordofan, gum from Darfur, grain from Sennar, and
taxes collected from all the regions. Strange beasts, entrapped in the
swamps and forests, passed through the capital on their journey to Cairo
and Europe. Complex and imposing reports of revenue and expenditure
were annually compiled. An elaborate and dignified correspondence was
maintained between Egypt and its great dependency. The casual observer,
astonished at the unusual capacity for government displayed by an
Oriental people, was tempted to accept the famous assertion which Nubar
Pasha put into the mouth of the Khedive Ismail: 'We are no longer in
Africa, but in Europe.' Yet all was a hateful sham ['The government
of the Egyptians in these far-off countries is nothing else but one of
brigandage of the very worst description.'--COLONEL GORDON IN CENTRAL
AFRICA, April 11, 1879.] The arbitrary and excessive taxes were
collected only at the point of the bayonet. If a petty chief fell into
arrears, his neighbours were raised against him. If an Arab tribe
were recalcitrant, a military expedition was despatched. Moreover, the
ability of the Arabs to pay depended on their success as slave-hunters.
When there had been a good catch, the revenue profited. The Egyptian
Government had joined the International League against the slave trade.
They combined, however, indirectly but deliberately, to make money out
of it. [EGYPT, No.11, 1883.]
In the miserable, harassing warfare that accompanied the collection of
taxes the Viceregal commanders gained more from fraud than force. No
subterfuge, no treachery, was too mean for them to adopt: no oath or
treaty was too sacred for them to break. Their methods were cruel, and
if honour did not impede the achievement, mercy did not restrict the
effects of their inglorious successes; and the effete administrators
delighted to order their timid soldiery to carry out the most
savage executions. The political methods and social style of the
Governors-General were imitated more or less exactly by the subordinate
officials according to their degree in the provinces. Since they were
completely hidden from the eye of civilisation, they enjoyed a greater
licence in their administration. As their education was inferior, so
their habits became more gross. Meanwhile the volcano on which they
disported themselves was ominously silent. The Arab tribes obeyed, and
the black population cowered.
The authority of a tyrannical Government was supported by the presence
of a worthless army. Nearly forty thousand men were distributed among
eight main and numerous minor garrisons. Isolated in a roadless country
by enormous distances and natural obstacles, and living in the midst
of large savage populations of fanatical character and warlike habits,
whose exasperation was yearly growing with their miseries, the Viceregal
forces might depend for their safety only on the skill of their
officers, the excellence of their discipline, and the superiority of
their weapons. But the Egyptian officers were at that time distinguished
for nothing but their public incapacity and private misbehaviour. The
evil reputation of the Soudan and its climate deterred the more educated
or more wealthy from serving in such distant regions, and none went
south who could avoid it. The army which the Khedives maintained in the
Delta was, judged by European standards, only a rabble. It was badly
trained, rarely paid, and very cowardly; and the scum of the army of the
Delta was the cream of the army of the Soudan. The officers remained
for long periods, many all their lives, in the obscurity of the remote
provinces. Some had been sent there in disgrace, others in disfavour.
Some had been forced to serve out of Egypt by extreme poverty, others
were drawn to the Soudan by the hopes of gratifying peculiar tastes. The
majority had harems of the women of the country, which were limited only
by the amount of money they could lay their hands on by any method. Many
were hopeless and habitual drunkards. Nearly all were dishonest. All
were indolent and incapable.
Under such leadership the finest soldiery would have soon degenerated.
The Egyptians in the Soudan were not fine soldiers. Like their officers,
they were the worst part of the Khedivial army. Like them, they had been
driven to the south. Like them, they were slothful and effete. Their
training was imperfect; their discipline was lax; their courage was
low. Nor was even this all the weakness and peril of their position; for
while the regular troops were thus demoralised, there existed a powerful
local irregular force of Bazingers (Soudanese riflemen), as well armed
as the soldiers, more numerous, more courageous, and who regarded the
alien garrisons with fear that continually diminished and hate that
continually grew. And behind regulars and irregulars alike the wild
Arab tribes of the desert and the hardy blacks of the forests, goaded by
suffering and injustice, thought the foreigners the cause of all their
woes, and were delayed only by their inability to combine from sweeping
them off the face of the earth. Never was there such a house of cards
as the Egyptian dominion in the Soudan. The marvel is that it stood so
long, not that it fell so soon.
The names of two men of character and fame are forever connected with
the actual outburst. One was an English general, the other an Arab
priest; yet, in spite of the great gulf and vivid contrast between
their conditions, they resembled each other in many respects. Both were
earnest and enthusiastic men of keen sympathies and passionate emotions.
Both were powerfully swayed by religious fervour. Both exerted great
personal influence on all who came in contact with them. Both were
reformers. The Arab was an African reproduction of the Englishman; the
Englishman a superior and civilised development of the Arab. In the end
they fought to the death, but for an important part of their lives
their influence on the fortunes of the Soudan was exerted in the same
direction. Mohammed Ahmed, 'The Mahdi,' will be discussed in his own
place. Charles Gordon needs little introduction. Long before this tale
begins his reputation was European, and the fame of the 'Ever-victorious
Army' had spread far beyond the Great Wall of China.
The misgovernment of the Egyptians and the misery of the Soudanese
reached their greatest extreme in the seventh decade of the present
century. From such a situation there seemed to be no issue other than
by force of arms. The Arab tribes lacked no provocation. Yet they were
destitute of two moral forces essential to all rebellions. The first
was the knowledge that better things existed. The second was a spirit
of combination. General Gordon showed them the first. The Mahdi provided
the second.
It is impossible to study any part of Charles Gordon's career without
being drawn to all the rest. As his wild and varied fortunes lead him
from Sebastopol to Pekin, from Gravesend to South Africa, from Mauritius
to the Soudan, the reader follows fascinated. Every scene is strange,
terrible, or dramatic. Yet, remarkable as are the scenes, the actor is
the more extraordinary; a type without comparison in modern times
and with few likenesses in history. Rare and precious is the truly
disinterested man. Potentates of many lands and different degree--the
Emperor of China, the King of the Belgians, the Premier of Cape Colony,
the Khedive of Egypt--competed to secure his services. The importance of
his offices varied no less than their nature. One day he was a subaltern
of sappers; on another he commanded the Chinese army; the next he
directed an orphanage; or was Governor-General of the Soudan, with
supreme powers of life and death and peace and war; or served as private
secretary to Lord Ripon. But in whatever capacity he laboured he was
true to his reputation. Whether he is portrayed bitterly criticising to
Graham the tactics of the assault on the Redan; or pulling the head
of Lar Wang from under his bedstead and waving it in paroxysms of
indignation before the astonished eyes of Sir Halliday Macartney;
or riding alone into the camp of the rebel Suliman and receiving the
respectful salutes of those who had meant to kill him; or telling
the Khedive Ismail that he 'must have the whole Soudan to govern'; or
reducing his salary to half the regulation amount because 'he thought
it was too much'; or ruling a country as large as Europe; or collecting
facts for Lord Ripon's rhetorical efforts--we perceive a man careless
alike of the frowns of men or the smiles of women, of life or comfort,
wealth or fame.
It was a pity that one, thus gloriously free from the ordinary
restraining influences of human society, should have found in his
own character so little mental ballast. His moods were capricious and
uncertain, his passions violent, his impulses sudden and inconsistent.
The mortal enemy of the morning had become a trusted ally before the
night. The friend he loved to-day he loathed to-morrow. Scheme after
scheme formed in his fertile brain, and jostled confusingly together.
All in succession were pressed with enthusiasm. All at times were
rejected with disdain. A temperament naturally neurotic had been
aggravated by an acquired habit of smoking; and the General carried this
to so great an extreme that he was rarely seen without a cigarette. His
virtues are famous among men; his daring and resource might turn
the tide or war; his energy would have animated a whole people; his
achievements are upon record; but it must also be set down that few more
uncertain and impracticable forces than Gordon have ever been introduced
into administration and diplomacy.
Although the Egyptian Government might loudly proclaim their detestation
of slavery, their behaviour in the Soudan was viewed with suspicion by
the European Powers, and particularly by Great Britain. To vindicate his
sincerity the Khedive Ismail in 1874 appointed Gordon to be Governor of
the Equatorial Province in succession to Sir Samuel Baker. The name of
the General was a sufficient guarantee that the slave trade was being
earnestly attacked. The Khedive would gladly have stopped at the
guarantee, and satisfied the world without disturbing 'vested
interests.' But the mission, which may have been originally instituted
as a pretence, soon became in Gordon's energetic hands very real.
Circumstances, moreover, soon enlisted the sympathies of the Egyptian
Government on the side of their zealous agent. The slave dealers had
committed every variety of atrocity for which the most odious traffic
in the world afforded occasion; but when, under the leadership of Zubehr
Rahamna, they refused to pay their annual tribute, it was felt in Cairo
that their crimes had cried aloud for chastisement.
Zubehr is sufficiently described when it has been said that he was the
most notorious slave dealer Africa has ever produced. His infamy had
spread beyond the limits of the continent which was the scene of his
exploits to the distant nations of the north and west. In reality, his
rule was a distinct advance on the anarchy which had preceded it, and
certainly he was no worse than others of his vile trade. His scale
of business was, however, more extended. What William Whiteley was in
respect of goods and chattels, that was Zubehr in respect of slaves--a
universal provider. Magnitude lends a certain grandeur to crime; and
Zubehr in the height of his power, at the head of the slave merchants'
confederacy, might boast the retinue of a king and exercise authority
over wide regions and a powerful army.
As early as 1869 he was practically the independent ruler of the
Bahr-el-Ghazal. The Khedive resolved to assert his rights. A small
Egyptian force was sent to subdue the rebel slaver who not only
disgraced humanity but refused to pay tribute. Like most of the
Khedivial expeditions the troops under Bellal Bey met with ill-fortune.
They came, they saw, they ran away. Some, less speedy than the rest,
fell on the field of dishonour. The rebellion was open. Nevertheless it
was the Khedive who sought peace. Zubehr apologised for defeating the
Viceregal soldiers and remained supreme in the Bahr-el-Ghazal. Thence he
planned the conquest of Darfur, at that time an independent kingdom. The
Egyptian Government were glad to join with him in the enterprise. The
man they had been unable to conquer, they found it expedient to
assist. The operations were successful. The King of Darfur, who was
distinguished no less for his valour than for his folly, was killed.
The whole country was subdued. The whole population available after
the battles became slaves. Zubehr thus wielded a formidable power. The
Khedivial Government, thinking to ensure his loyalty, created him a
Pasha--a rank which he could scarcely disgrace; and the authority of
the rebel was thus unwillingly recognised by the ruler. Such was the
situation when Gordon first came to the Soudan.
It was beyond the power of the new Governor of the Equatorial Province
at once to destroy the slave-hunting confederacy. Yet he struck heavy
blows at the slave trade, and when in 1877, after a short visit to
England, he returned to the Soudan as Governor-General and with absolute
power, he assailed it with redoubled energy. Fortune assisted his
efforts, for the able Zubehr was enticed to Cairo, and, once there, the
Government refused to allow their faithful ally and distinguished guest
to go back to his happy-hunting grounds. Although the slave dealers were
thus robbed of their great leader, they were still strong, and Zubehr's
son, the brave Suliman, found a considerable following. Furious at his
father's captivity, and alarmed lest his own should follow, he meditated
revolt. But the Governor-General, mounted on a swift camel and attired
in full uniform, rode alone into the rebel camp and compelled the
submission of its chiefs before they could recover from their amazement.
The confederacy was severely shaken, and when, in the following year,
Suliman again revolted, the Egyptian troops under Gessi Pasha were able
to disperse his forces and induce him to surrender on terms. The terms
were broken, and Suliman and ten of his companions suffered death by
shooting [von Slatin, Baron Rudolf Karl. FIRE AND SWORD IN THE SOUDAN,
p.28.] The league of the slave dealers was thus destroyed.
Towards the end of 1879 Gordon left the Soudan. With short intervals he
had spent five busy years in its provinces. His energy had stirred the
country. He had struck at the root of the slave trade, he had attacked
the system of slavery, and, as slavery was the greatest institution in
the land, he had undermined the whole social system. Indignation had
stimulated his activity to an extraordinary degree. In a climate usually
fatal to Europeans he discharged the work of five officers. Careless
of his methods, he bought slaves himself, drilled them, and with the
soldiers thus formed pounced on the caravans of the hunters. Traversing
the country on a fleet dromedary--on which in a single year he is said
to have covered 3,840 miles--he scattered justice and freedom among the
astonished natives. He fed the infirm, protected the weak, executed the
wicked. To some he gave actual help, to many freedom, to all new hopes
and aspirations. Nor were the tribes ungrateful. The fiercest savages
and cannibals respected the life of the strange white man. The women
blessed him. He could ride unarmed and alone where a brigade of soldiers
dared not venture. But he was, as he knew himself, the herald of the
storm. Oppressed yet ferocious races had learned that they had rights;
the misery of the Soudanese was lessened, but their knowledge had
increased. The whole population was unsettled, and the wheels of change
began slowly to revolve; nor did they stop until they had accomplished
an enormous revolution.
The part played by the second force is more obscure. Few facts are so
encouraging to the student of human development as the desire, which
most men and all communities manifest at all times, to associate with
their actions at least the appearance of moral right. However distorted
may be their conceptions of virtue, however feeble their efforts to
attain even to their own ideals, it is a pleasing feature and a hopeful
augury that they should wish to be justified. No community embarks on
a great enterprise without fortifying itself with the belief that from
some points of view its motives are lofty and disinterested. It is an
involuntary tribute, the humble tribute of imperfect beings, to the
eternal temples of Truth and Beauty. The sufferings of a people or a
class may be intolerable, but before they will take up arms and risk
their lives some unselfish and impersonal spirit must animate them. In
countries where there is education and mental activity or refinement,
this high motive is found in the pride of glorious traditions or in a
keen sympathy with surrounding misery. Ignorance deprives savage nations
of such incentives. Yet in the marvellous economy of nature this very
ignorance is a source of greater strength. It affords them the mighty
stimulus of fanaticism. The French Communists might plead that they
upheld the rights of man. The desert tribes proclaimed that they fought
for the glory of God. But although the force of fanatical passion is far
greater than that exerted by any philosophical belief, its sanction is
just the same. It gives men something which they think is sublime
to fight for, and this serves them as an excuse for wars which it is
desirable to begin for totally different reasons. Fanaticism is not a
cause of war. It is the means which helps savage peoples to fight. It is
the spirit which enables them to combine--the great common object before
which all personal or tribal disputes become insignificant. What the
horn is to the rhinoceros, what the sting is to the wasp, the Mohammedan
faith was to the Arabs of the Soudan--a faculty of offence or defence.
It was all this and no more. It was not the reason of the revolt. It
strengthened, it characterised, but it did not cause. ['I do not believe
that fanaticism exists as it used to do in the world, judging from what
I have seen in this so-called fanatic land. It is far more a question
of property, and is more like Communism under the flag of
religion.'--GENERAL GORDON'S JOURNALS AT KHARTOUM, bk.i. p.13.] Those
whose practice it is to regard their own nation as possessing a
monopoly of virtue and common-sense, are wont to ascribe every military
enterprise of savage peoples to fanaticism. They calmly ignore obvious
and legitimate motives. The most rational conduct is considered mad. It
has therefore been freely stated, and is to some extent believed, that
the revolt in the Soudan was entirely religious. If the worst untruths
are those that have some appearance of veracity, this impression must be
very false indeed. It is, perhaps, an historical fact that the revolt
of a large population has never been caused solely or even mainly by
religious enthusiasm.
The reasons which forced the peoples of the Soudan to revolt were as
strong as the defence which their oppressors could offer was feeble.
Looking at the question from a purely political standpoint, we may
say that upon the whole there exists no record of a better case for
rebellion than presented itself to the Soudanese. Their country was
being ruined; their property was plundered; their women were ravished;
their liberties were curtailed; even their lives were threatened.
Aliens ruled the inhabitants; the few oppressed the many; brave men were
harried by cowards; the weak compelled the strong. Here were sufficient
reasons. Since any armed movement against an established Government can
be justified only by success, strength is an important revolutionary
virtue. It was a virtue that the Arabs might boast. They were indeed
far stronger than they, their persecutors, or the outside world had yet
learned. All were soon to be enlightened.
The storm gathered and the waters rose. Three great waves impelled the
living tide against the tottering house founded on the desert sand.
The Arab suffered acutely from poverty, misgovernment, and oppression.
Infuriated, he looked up and perceived that the cause of all his
miseries was a weak and cowardly foreigner, a despicable 'Turk.' The
antagonism of races increased the hatred sprung from social evils. The
moment was at hand. Then, and not till then, the third wave came--the
wave of fanaticism, which, catching up and surmounting the other waves,
covered all the flood with its white foam, and, bearing on with the
momentum of the waters, beat in thunder against the weak house so that
it fell; and great was the fall thereof.
Down to the year 1881 there was no fanatical movement in the Soudan.
In their utter misery the hopeless inhabitants had neglected even
the practices of religion. They were nevertheless prepared for any
enterprise, however desperate, which might free them from the Egyptian
yoke. All that delayed them was the want of some leader who could
combine the tribes and restore their broken spirits, and in the summer
of 1881 the leader appeared. His subsequent career is within the
limits of this account, and since his life throws a strong light on the
thoughts and habits of the Arabs of the Soudan it may be worth while to
trace it from the beginning.
The man who was the proximate cause of the River War was born by the
banks of the Nile, not very far from Dongola. His family were poor and
of no account in the province. But as the Prophet had claimed a royal
descent, and as a Sacred Example was sprung from David's line, Mohammed
Ahmed asserted that he was of the 'Ashraf,'(descendants of the Prophet)
and the assertion, since it cannot be disproved, may be accepted.
His father was a humble priest; yet he contrived to give his son some
education in the practices of religion, the principles of the Koran,
and the art of writing. Then he died at Kerreri while on a journey to
Khartoum, and left the future Mahdi, still a child, to the mercies of
the world. Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong; and a boy
deprived of a father's care often develops, if he escape the perils of
youth, an independence and vigour of thought which may restore in after
life the heavy loss of early days. It was so with Mohammed Ahmed. He
looked around for an occupation and subsistence. A large proportion
of the population of religious countries pass their lives at leisure,
supported by the patient labour of the devout. The young man determined
to follow the profession for which he felt his talents suited, and
which would afford him the widest scope. He became a priest. Many of
the religious teachers of heathen and other countries are devoid of
enthusiasm and turn their attention to the next world because doing so
affords them an easy living in this. Happily this is not true of all. It
was not true of Mohammed. Even at an early age he manifested a zeal for
God's service, and displayed a peculiar aptitude for learning the tenets
and dogmas of the Mohammedan belief. So promising a pupil did not
long lack a master in a country where intelligence and enthusiasm
were scarce. His aspirations growing with his years and knowledge, he
journeyed to Khartoum as soon as his religious education was completed,
and became a disciple of the renowned and holy Sheikh, Mohammed Sherif.
His devotion to his superior, to his studies and to the practice of
austerities, and a strange personal influence he was already beginning
to show, won him by degrees a few disciples of his own: and with them
he retired to the island of Abba. Here by the waters of the White Nile
Mohammed Ahmed lived for several years. His two brothers, who were
boat-builders in the neighbourhood, supported him by their industry. But
it must have been an easy burden, for we read that he 'hollowed out for
himself a cave in the mud bank, and lived in almost entire seclusion,
fasting often for days, and occasionally paying a visit to the head of
the order to assure him of his devotion and obedience.' [I take this
passage from FIRE AND SWORD IN THE SOUDAN, by Slatin. His account is the
most graphic and trustworthy of all known records of the Mahdi. He had
terrible opportunities of collecting information. I have followed his
version (chapter iv.) very closely on this subject.] Meanwhile his
sanctity increased, and the labour and charity of the brothers were
assisted by the alms of godly travellers on the river.
This virtuous and frugal existence was disturbed and terminated by an
untoward event. The renowned and holy Sheikh made a feast to celebrate
the circumcision of his sons. That the merriment of the auspicious
occasion and the entertainment of the guests might be increased, Sherif,
according to the lax practice of the time, granted a dispensation from
any sins committed during the festivities, and proclaimed in God's name
the suspension of the rules against singing and dancing by which the
religious orders were bound. The ascetic of Abba island did not join
in these seemingly innocent dissipations. With the recklessness of the
reformer he protested against the demoralisation of the age, and loudly
affirmed the doctrine that God alone could forgive sins. These things
were speedily brought to the ears of the renowned Sheikh, and in all the
righteous indignation that accompanies detected wrong-doing, he summoned
Mohammed Ahmed before him. The latter obeyed. He respected his superior.
He was under obligations to him. His ire had disappeared as soon as it
had been expressed. He submissively entreated forgiveness; but in vain.
Sherif felt that some sort of discipline must be maintained among his
flock. He had connived at disobedience to the divine law. All the
more must he uphold his own authority. Rising in anger, he drove the
presumptuous disciple from his presence with bitter words, and expunged
his name from the order of the elect.
Mohammed went home. He was greatly distressed. Yet his fortunes were
not ruined. His sanctity was still a valuable and, unless he chose
otherwise, an inalienable asset. The renowned Sheikh had a rival--nearly
as holy and more enterprising than himself. From him the young priest
might expect a warm welcome. Nevertheless he did not yet abandon his
former superior. Placing a heavy wooden collar on his neck, clad in
sackcloth and sprinkled with ashes, he again returned to his spiritual
leader, and in this penitential guise implored pardon. He was
ignominiously ejected. Nor did he venture to revisit the unforgiving
Sheikh. But it happened that in a few weeks Sherif had occasion to
journey to the island of Abba. His former disciple appeared suddenly
before him, still clad in sackcloth and defiled by ashes. Careless
of his plain misery, and unmoved by his loyalty, which was the more
remarkable since it was disinterested, the implacable Sheikh poured
forth a stream of invective. Among many insults, one went home: 'Be off,
you wretched Dongolawi.'
Although the natives of the Dongola province were despised and disliked
in the Southern Soudan, it is not at first apparent why Mohammed should
have resented so bitterly the allusion to his birthplace. But abuse
by class is a dangerous though effective practice. A man will perhaps
tolerate an offensive word applied to himself, but will be infuriated if
his nation, his rank, or his profession is insulted.
Mohammed Ahmed rose. All that man could do to make amends he had done.
Now he had been publicly called 'a wretched Dongolawi.' Henceforth he
would afflict Sherif with his repentance no longer. Reaching his house,
he informed his disciples--for they had not abandoned him in all his
trouble--that the Sheikh had finally cast him off, and that he would
now take his discarded allegiance elsewhere. The rival, the Sheikh el
Koreishi, lived near Mesalamia. He was jealous of Sherif and envied him
his sanctimonious disciples. He was therefore delighted to receive
a letter from Mohammed Ahmed announcing his breach with his former
superior and offering his most devoted services. He returned a cordial
invitation, and the priest of Abba island made all preparation for the
journey.
This new development seems to have startled the unforgiving Sherif. It
was no part of his policy to alienate his followers, still less to add
to those of his rival. After all, the quality of mercy was high and
noble. He would at last graciously forgive the impulsive but repentant
disciple. He wrote him a letter to this effect. But it was now too late.
Mohammed replied with grave dignity that he had committed no crime,
that he sought no forgiveness, and that 'a wretched Dongolawi' would
not offend by his presence the renowned Sheikh el Sherif. After this
indulgence he departed to Mesalamia.
But the fame of his doings spread far and wide throughout the land.
'Even in distant Darfur it was the principal topic of conversation'
[Slatin, FIRE AND SWORD]. Rarely had a Fiki been known to offend his
superior; never to refuse his forgiveness. Mohammed did not hesitate to
declare that he had done what he had done as a protest against the decay
of religious fervour and the torpor of the times. Since his conduct had
actually caused his dismissal, it appears that he was quite justified
in making a virtue of necessity. At any rate he was believed, and the
people groaning under oppression looked from all the regions to the
figure that began to grow on the political horizon. His fame grew.
Rumour, loud-tongued, carried it about the land that a great Reformer
was come to purify the faith and break the stony apathy which paralysed
the hearts of Islam. Whisperings added that a man was found who should
break from off the necks of the tribes the hateful yoke of Egypt.
Mohammed now deliberately entered upon the path of ambition.
Throughout Nubia the Shukri belief prevails: some day, in a time of
shame and trouble, a second great Prophet will arise--a Mahdi who shall
lead the faithful nearer God and sustain the religion. The people of the
Soudan always look inquiringly to any ascetic who rises to fame, and the
question is often repeated, 'Art thou he that should come, or do we look
for another?' Of this powerful element of disturbance Mohammed Ahmed
resolved to avail himself. He requested and obtained the permission of
the Sheikh Koreishi to return to Abba, where he was well known, and with
which island village his name was connected, and so came back in triumph
to the scene of his disgrace. Thither many pilgrims began to resort.
He received valuable presents, which he distributed to the poor, who
acclaimed him as 'Zahed'--a renouncer of earthly pleasures. He journeyed
preaching through Kordofan, and received the respect of the priesthood
and the homage of the people. And while he spoke of the purification of
the religion, they thought that the burning words might be applied to
the freedom of the soil. He supported his sermons by writings, which
were widely read. When a few months later the Sheikh Koreishi died,
the priest of Abba proceeded forthwith to erect a tomb to his memory,
directing and controlling the voluntary labours of the reverent Arabs
who carried the stones.
While Mohammed was thus occupied he received the support of a man, less
virtuous than but nearly as famous as himself. Abdullah was one of four
brothers, the sons of an obscure priest; but he inherited no great
love of religion or devotion to its observances. He was a man of
determination and capacity. He set before himself two distinct
ambitions, both of which he accomplished: to free the Soudan of
foreigners, and to rule it himself. He seems to have had a queer
presentiment of his career. This much he knew: there would be a great
religious leader, and he would be his lieutenant and his successor.
When Zubehr conquered Darfur, Abdullah presented himself before him
and hailed him as 'the expected Mahdi.' Zubehr, however, protested with
superfluous energy that he was no saint, and the impulsive patriot was
compelled to accept his assurances. So soon as he saw Mohammed Ahmed
rising to fame and displaying qualities of courage and energy, he
hastened to throw himself at his feet and assure him of his devotion.
No part of Slatin Pasha's fascinating account of his perils and
sufferings is so entertaining as that in which Abdullah, then become
Khalifa of the whole Soudan, describes his early struggles and
adversity:
'Indeed it was a very troublesome journey. At that time my entire
property consisted of one donkey, and he had a gall on his back, so
that I could not ride him. But I made him carry my water-skin and bag of
corn, over which I spread my rough cotton garment, and drove him along
in front of me. At that time I wore the white cotton shirt, like the
rest of my tribe. My clothes and my dialect at once marked me out as a
stranger wherever I went; and when I crossed the Nile I was frequently
greeted with "What do you want? Go back to your own country. There is
nothing to steal here."'
What a life of ups and downs! It was a long stride from the ownership of
one saddle-galled donkey to the undisputed rule of an empire. The weary
wayfarer may have dreamed of this, for ambition stirs imagination nearly
as much as imagination excites ambition. But further he could not expect
or wish to see. Nor could he anticipate as, in the complacency of a
man who had done with evil days, he told the story of his rise to the
submissive Slatin, that the day would come when he would lead an army
of more than fifty thousand men to destruction, and that the night would
follow when, almost alone, his empire shrunk again to the saddle-galled
donkey, he would seek his home in distant Kordofan, while this same
Slatin who knelt so humbly before him would lay the fierce pursuing
squadrons on the trail.
Mohammed Ahmed received his new adherent kindly, but without enthusiasm.
For some months Abdullah carried stones to build the tomb of the Sheikh
el Koreishi. Gradually they got to know each other. 'But long before he
entrusted me with his secret,' said Abdullah to Slatin, 'I knew that he
was "the expected Guide."' [Slatin, FIRE AND SWORD, p.131.] And though
the world might think that the 'Messenger of God' was sent to lead men
to happiness in heaven, Abdullah attached to the phrase a significance
of his own, and knew that he should lead him to power on earth. The
two formed a strong combination. The Mahdi--for such Mohammed Ahmed
had already in secret announced himself--brought the wild enthusiasm
of religion, the glamour of a stainless life, and the influence of
superstition into the movement. But if he were the soul of the plot,
Abdullah was the brain. He was the man of the world, the practical
politician, the general.
There now commenced a great conspiracy against the Egyptian Government.
It was fostered by the discontents and justified by the miseries of the
people of the Soudan. The Mahdi began to collect adherents and to extend
his influence in all parts of the country. He made a second journey
through Kordofan, and received everywhere promises of support from
all classes. The most distant tribes sent assurances of devotion and
reverence, and, what was of more importance, of armed assistance. The
secret could not be long confined to those who welcomed the movement. As
the ramifications of the plot spread they were perceived by the renowned
Sheikh Sherif, who still nursed his chagrin and thirsted for revenge. He
warned the Egyptian Government. They, knowing his envy and hatred of
his former disciple, discounted his evidence and for some time paid no
attention to the gathering of the storm. But presently more
trustworthy witnesses confirmed his statements, and Raouf Pasha, then
Governor-General, finding himself confronted with a growing agitation,
determined to act. He accordingly sent a messenger to the island of
Abba, to summon Mohammed Ahmed to Khartoum to justify his behaviour and
explain his intentions. The news of the despatch of the messenger was
swiftly carried to the Mahdi! He consulted with his trusty lieutenant.
They decided to risk everything, and without further delay to defy the
Government. When it is remembered how easily an organised army, even
though it be in a bad condition, can stamp out the beginnings of revolt
among a population, the courage of their resolve must be admired.
The messenger arrived. He was received with courtesy by Abdullah, and
forthwith conducted before the Mahdi. He delivered his message, and
urged Mohammed Ahmed to comply with the orders of the Governor-General.
The Mahdi listened for some time in silence, but with increasing
emotion; and when the messenger advised him, as he valued his own
safety, to journey to Khartoum, if only to justify himself, his passion
overcame him. 'What!' he shouted, rising suddenly and striking his
breast with his hand. 'By the grace of God and his Prophet I am master
of this country, and never shall I go to Khartoum to justify myself.'
[Slatin, FIRE AND SWORD, p.135.] The terrified messenger withdrew. The
rebellion of the Mahdi had begun.
Both the priest and the Governor-General prepared for military
enterprise. The Mahdi proclaimed a holy war against the foreigners,
alike the enemies of God and the scourge of men. He collected his
followers. He roused the local tribes. He wrote letters to all parts of
the Soudan, calling upon the people to fight for a purified religion,
the freedom of the soil, and God's holy prophet 'the expected Mahdi.'
He promised the honour of men to those who lived, the favour of God
to those who fell, and lastly that the land should be cleared of the
miserable 'Turk.' 'Better,' he said, and it became the watchword of
the revolt, 'thousands of graves than a dollar tax.' [Ohrwalder, TEN
YEARS' CAPTIVITY IN THE MAHDI'S CAMP.]
Nor was Raouf Pasha idle. He sent two companies of infantry with one gun
by steamer to Abba to arrest the fanatic who disturbed the public peace.
What followed is characteristically Egyptian. Each company was commanded
by a captain. To encourage their efforts, whichever officer captured the
Mahdi was promised promotion. At sunset on an August evening in 1881
the steamer arrived at Abba. The promise of the Governor-General had
provoked the strife, not the emulation of the officers. Both landed with
their companies and proceeded by different routes under the cover of
darkness to the village where the Mahdi dwelt. Arriving simultaneously
from opposite directions, they fired into each other, and, in the midst
of this mistaken combat, the Mahdi rushed upon them with his scanty
following and destroyed them impartially. A few soldiers succeeded in
reaching the bank of the river. But the captain of the steamer would run
no risks, and those who could not swim out to the vessel were left to
their fate. With such tidings the expedition returned to Khartoum.
Mohammed Ahmed had been himself wounded in the attack, but the faithful
Abdullah bound up the injury, so that none might know that God's Prophet
had been pierced by carnal weapons. The effect of the success was
electrical. The news spread throughout the Soudan. Men with sticks
had slain men with rifles. A priest had destroyed the soldiers of
the Government. Surely this was the Expected One. The Mahdi, however,
profited by his victory only to accomplish a retreat without loss of
prestige. Abdullah had no illusions. More troops would be sent. They
were too near to Khartoum. Prudence counselled flight to regions
more remote. But before this new Hegira the Mahdi appointed his four
Khalifas, in accordance with prophecy and precedent. The first was
Abdullah. Of the others it is only necessary at this moment to notice
Ali-Wad-Helu, the chief of one of the local tribes, and among the first
to rally to the standard of revolt.
Then the retreat began; but it was more like a triumphal progress.
Attended by a considerable following, and preceded by tales of the most
wonderful miracles and prodigies, the Mahdi retired to a mountain
in Kordofan to which he gave the name of Jebel Masa, that being the
mountain whence 'the expected Guide' is declared in the Koran sooner or
later to appear. He was now out of reach of Khartoum, but within reach
of Fashoda. The Egyptian Governor of that town, Rashid Bey, a man of
more enterprise and even less military knowledge than is usual in his
race, determined to make all attempt to seize the rebel and disperse his
following. Taking no precautions, he fell on the 9th of December into an
ambush, was attacked unprepared, and was himself, with fourteen hundred
men, slaughtered by the ill-armed but valiant Arabs.
The whole country stirred. The Government, thoroughly alarmed by the
serious aspect the revolt had assumed, organised a great expedition.
Four thousand troops under Yusef, a Pasha of distinguished reputation,
were sent against the rebels. Meanwhile the Mahdi and his followers
suffered the extremes of want. Their cause was as yet too perilous for
the rich to join. Only the poor flocked to the holy standard. All that
Mohammed possessed he gave away, keeping nothing for himself, excepting
only a horse to lead his followers in battle. Abdullah walked.
Nevertheless the rebels were half-famished, and armed with scarcely any
more deadly weapons than sticks and stones. The army of the Government
approached slowly. Their leaders anticipated an easy victory. Their
contempt for the enemy was supreme. They did not even trouble themselves
to post sentries by night, but slept calmly inside a slender thorn
fence, unwatched save by their tireless foes. And so it came to pass
that in the half-light of the early morning of the 7th of June the
Mahdi, his ragged Khalifas, and his almost naked army rushed upon them,
and slew them to a man.
The victory was decisive. Southern Kordofan was at the feet of the
priest of Abba. Stores of arms and ammunition had fallen into his hands.
Thousands of every class hastened to join his standard. No one
doubted that he was the divine messenger sent to free them from their
oppressors. The whole of the Arab tribes all over the Soudan rose at
once. The revolt broke out simultaneously in Sennar and Darfur, and
spread to provinces still more remote. The smaller Egyptian posts,
the tax-gatherers and local administrators, were massacred in every
district. Only the larger garrisons maintained themselves in the
principal towns. They were at once blockaded. All communications were
interrupted. All legal authority was defied. Only the Mahdi was obeyed.
It is now necessary to look for a moment to Egypt. The misgovernment
which in the Soudan had caused the rebellion of the Mahdi, in Egypt
produced the revolt of Arabi Pasha. As the people of the Soudan longed
to be rid of the foreign oppressors--the so-called 'Turks'--so those of
the Delta were eager to free themselves from the foreign regulators and
the real Turkish influence. While men who lived by the sources of the
Nile asserted that tribes did not exist for officials to harry, others
who dwelt at its mouth protested that nations were not made to be
exploited by creditors or aliens. The ignorant south found their leader
in a priest: the more educated north looked to a soldier. Mohammed Ahmed
broke the Egyptian yoke; Arabi gave expression to the hatred of the
Egyptians for the Turks. But although the hardy Arabs might scatter the
effete Egyptians, the effete Egyptians were not likely to disturb the
solid battalions of Europe. After much hesitation and many attempts at
compromise, the Liberal Administration of Mr. Gladstone sent a fleet
which reduced the forts of Alexandria to silence and the city to
anarchy. The bombardment of the fleet was followed by the invasion of
a powerful army. Twenty-five thousand men were landed in Egypt. The
campaign was conducted with celerity and skill. The Egyptian armies
were slaughtered or captured. Their patriotic but commonplace leader was
sentenced to death and condemned to exile, and Great Britain assumed the
direction of Egyptian affairs.
The British soon restored law and order in Egypt, and the question
of the revolt in the Soudan came before the English advisers of the
Khedive. Notwithstanding the poverty and military misfortunes which
depressed the people of the Delta, the desire to hold their southern
provinces was evident. The British Government, which at that time was
determined to pursue a policy of non-interference in the Soudan, gave a
tacit consent, and another great expedition was prepared to suppress the
False Prophet, as the English and Egyptians deemed him--'the expected
Mahdi,' as the people of the Soudan believed.
A retired officer of the Indian Staff Corps and a few European officers
of various nationalities were sent to Khartoum to organise the new field
force. Meanwhile the Mahdi, having failed to take by storm, laid siege
to El Obeid, the chief town of Kordofan. During the summer of 1883 the
Egyptian troops gradually concentrated at Khartoum until a considerable
army was formed. It was perhaps the worst army that has ever marched to
war. One extract from General Hicks's letters will suffice. Writing on
the 8th of June, 1883, to Sir E. Wood, he says incidentally: 'Fifty-one
men of the Krupp battery deserted on the way here, although in chains.'
The officers and men who had been defeated fighting for their own
liberties at Tel-el-Kebir were sent to be destroyed, fighting to take
away the liberties of others in the Soudan. They had no spirit, no
discipline, hardly any training, and in a force of over eight thousand
men there were scarcely a dozen capable officers. The two who were the
most notable of these few--General Hicks, who commanded, and Colonel
Farquhar, the Chief of the Staff--must be remarked.
El Obeid had fallen before the ill-fated expedition left Khartoum; but
the fact that Slatin Bey, an Austrian officer in the Egyptian service,
was still maintaining himself in Darfur provided it with an object. On
the 9th of September Hicks and his army (the actual strength of
which was 7,000 infantry, 400 mounted Bashi Bazuks, 500 cavalry, 100
Circassians, 10 mounted guns, 4 Krupps, and 6 Nordenfeldt machine guns)
left Omdurman and marched to Duem. Although the actual command of the
expedition was vested in the English officer, Ala-ed-Din Pasha, the
Governor-General who had succeeded Raouf Pasha, exercised an uncertain
authority. Differences of opinion were frequent, though all the officers
were agreed in taking the darkest views of their chances. The miserable
host toiled slowly onward towards its destruction, marching in a
south-westerly direction through Shat and Rahad. Here the condition of
the force was so obviously demoralised that a German servant (Gustav
Klootz, the servant of Baron Seckendorf) actually deserted to the
Mahdi's camp. He was paraded in triumph as an English officer.
On the approach of the Government troops the Mahdi had marched out of
El Obeid and established himself in the open country, where he made his
followers live under military conditions and continually practised them
in warlike evolutions. More than forty thousand men collected round his
standard, and the Arabs were now armed with several thousand rifles and
a few cannon, as well as a great number of swords and spears. To these
proportions had the little band of followers who fought at Abba grown!
The disparity of the forces was apparent before the battle. The Mahdi
thereupon wrote to Hicks, calling on him to surrender and offering
terms. His proposals were treated with disdain, although the probable
result of an engagement was clear.
Until the expedition reached Rahad only a few cavalry patrols had
watched its slow advance. But on the 1st of November the Mahdi left
El Obeid and marched with his whole power to meet his adversary. The
collision took place on the 3rd of November. All through that day the
Egyptians struggled slowly forward, in great want of water, losing
continually from the fire of the Soudanese riflemen, and leaving several
guns behind them. On the next morning they were confronted by the
main body of the Arab army, and their attempts to advance further were
defeated with heavy loss. The force began to break up. Yet another day
was consumed before it was completely destroyed. Scarcely five hundred
Egyptians escaped death; hardly as many of the Arabs fell. The European
officers perished fighting to the end; and the general met his fate
sword in hand, at the head of the last formed body of his troops, his
personal valour and physical strength exciting the admiration even of
the fearless enemy, so that in chivalrous respect they buried his body
with barbaric honours. Mohammed Ahmed celebrated his victory with a
salute of one hundred guns; and well he might, for the Soudan was now
his, and his boast that, by God's grace and the favour of the Prophet,
he was the master of all the land had been made good by force of arms.
No further attempt was made to subdue the country. The people of the
Soudan had won their freedom by their valour and by the skill and
courage of their saintly leader. It only remained to evacuate the towns
and withdraw the garrisons safely. But what looked like the winding-up
of one story was really the beginning of another, much longer, just as
bloody, commencing in shame and disaster, but ending in triumph and, let
us hope, in peace.
I desire for a moment to take a more general view of the Mahdi's
movement than the narrative has allowed. The original causes were social
and racial. But, great as was the misery of the people, their spirit was
low, and they would not have taken up arms merely on material grounds.
Then came the Mahdi. He gave the tribes the enthusiasm they lacked. The
war broke out. It is customary to lay to the charge of Mohammed Ahmed
all the blood that was spilled. To my mind it seems that he may divide
the responsibility with the unjust rulers who oppressed the land, with
the incapable commanders who muddled away the lives of their men, with
the vacillating Ministers who aggravated the misfortunes. But, whatever
is set to the Mahdi's account, it should not be forgotten that he put
life and soul into the hearts of his countrymen, and freed his native
land of foreigners. The poor miserable natives, eating only a handful
of grain, toiling half-naked and without hope, found a new, if terrible
magnificence added to life. Within their humble breasts the spirit
of the Mahdi roused the fires of patriotism and religion. Life became
filled with thrilling, exhilarating terrors. They existed in a new and
wonderful world of imagination. While they lived there were great things
to be done; and when they died, whether it were slaying the Egyptians
or charging the British squares, a Paradise which they could understand
awaited them. There are many Christians who reverence the faith of Islam
and yet regard the Mahdi merely as a commonplace religious impostor whom
force of circumstances elevated to notoriety. In a certain sense, this
may be true. But I know not how a genuine may be distinguished from a
spurious Prophet, except by the measure of his success. The triumphs of
the Mahdi were in his lifetime far greater than those of the founder
of the Mohammedan faith; and the chief difference between orthodox
Mohammedanism and Mahdism was that the original impulse was opposed only
by decaying systems of government and society and the recent movement
came in contact with civilisation and the machinery of science.
Recognising this, I do not share the popular opinion, and I believe that
if in future years prosperity should come to the peoples of the Upper
Nile, and learning and happiness follow in its train, then the first
Arab historian who shall investigate the early annals of that new nation
will not forget, foremost among the heroes of his race, to write the
name of Mohammed Ahmed.