All great movements, every vigorous impulse that a community may feel,
become perverted and distorted as time passes, and the atmosphere of
the earth seems fatal to the noble aspirations of its peoples. A wide
humanitarian sympathy in a nation easily degenerates into hysteria.
A military spirit tends towards brutality. Liberty leads to licence,
restraint to tyranny. The pride of race is distended to blustering
arrogance. The fear of God produces bigotry and superstition. There
appears no exception to the mournful rule, and the best efforts of men,
however glorious their early results, have dismal endings, like plants
which shoot and bud and put forth beautiful flowers, and then grow rank
and coarse and are withered by the winter. It is only when we reflect
that the decay gives birth to fresh life, and that new enthusiasms
spring up to take the places of those that die, as the acorn is
nourished by the dead leaves of the oak, the hope strengthens that the
rise and fall of men and their movements are only the changing foliage
of the ever-growing tree of life, while underneath a greater evolution
goes on continually.
The movement which Mohammed Ahmed created did not escape the common fate
of human enterprise; nor was it long before the warm generous blood of
a patriotic and religious revolt congealed into the dark clot of a
military empire. With the expulsion or destruction of the foreign
officials, soldiers, and traders, the racial element began to subside.
The reason for its existence was removed. With the increasing disorders
the social agitation dwindled; for communism pre-supposes wealth, and
the wealth of the Soudan was greatly diminished. There remained only the
fanatical fury which the belief in the divine mission of the Mahdi had
excited; and as the necessity for a leader passed away, the belief in
his sanctity grew weaker. But meanwhile a new force was making itself
felt on the character of the revolt. The triumph no less than the
plunder which had rewarded the Mahdi's victories had called into
existence a military spirit distinct from the warlike passions of the
tribesmen--the spirit of the professional soldier.
The siege of Khartoum was carried on while this new influence was taking
the place of the original forces of revolt. There was a period when a
neutral point was obtained and the Mahdist power languished. But the
invasion of the Eastern Soudan by the British troops in the spring and
the necessary advance of the relieving columns in the winter of 1884
revived the patriotic element. The tribes who had made a great effort
to free themselves from foreign domination saw in the operations of Sir
Gerald Graham and Lord Wolseley an attempt to bring them again under the
yoke. The impulse which was given to the Mahdi's cause was sufficient
to raise a fierce opposition to the invading forces. The delay in the
despatch of the relief expedition had sealed the fate of Khartoum, and
the fall of the town established the supremacy of the military spirit on
which the Dervish Empire was afterwards founded.
All the warlike operations of Mohammedan peoples are characterised by
fanaticism, but with this general reservation it may be said--that the
Arabs who destroyed Yusef, who assaulted El Obeid, who annihilated
Hicks fought in the glory of religious zeal; that the Arabs who opposed
Graham, Earle, and Stewart fought in defence of the soil; and that the
Arabs who were conquered by Kitchener fought in the pride of an army.
Fanatics charged at Shekan; patriots at Abu Klea; warriors at Omdurman.
In order to describe conveniently the changing character of the revolt,
I have anticipated the story and must revert to a period when the social
and racial influences were already weakening and the military spirit
was not yet grown strong. If the defeat of Yusef Pasha decided the whole
people of the Soudan to rise in arms and strike for their liberties, the
defeat of Hicks satisfied the British Government that those liberties
were won. The powerful influence of the desire to rule prompted the
Khedive's Ministers to make still further efforts to preserve their
country's possessions. Had Egypt been left to herself, other desperate
efforts would have been made. But the British Government had finally
abandoned the policy of non-interference with Egyptian action in the
Soudan. They 'advised' its abandonment. The protests of Sherif Pasha
provoked Lord Granville to explain the meaning of the word 'advice.' The
Khedive bowed to superior authority. The Minister resigned. The policy
of evacuation was firmly adopted. 'Let us,' said the Ministers, 'collect
the garrisons and come away.' It was simple to decide on the course to
be pursued, but almost impossible to follow it. Several of the Egyptian
garrisons, as in Darfur and El Obeid, had already fallen. The others
were either besieged, like Sennar, Tokar, and Sinkat, or cut off from
the north, as in the case of the Equatorial Province, by the area of
rebellion. The capital of the Soudan was, however, as yet unmolested;
and as its Egyptian population exceeded the aggregate of the provincial
towns, the first task of the Egyptian Government was obvious.
Mr. Gladstone's Administration had repressed the revolt of Arabi Pasha.
Through their policy the British were in armed occupation of Egypt.
British officers were reorganising the army. A British official
supervised the finances. A British plenipotentiary 'advised' the
re-established Tewfik. A British fleet lay attentive before the ruins
of Alexandria, and it was evident that Great Britain could annex the
country in name as well as in fact. But Imperialism was not the object
of the Radical Cabinet. Their aim was philanthropic and disinterested.
As they were now determined that the Egyptians should evacuate the
Soudan, so they had always been resolved that the British should
evacuate Egypt.
Throughout this chapter it will be seen that the desire to get out of
the country at once is the keynote of the British policy. Every act,
whether of war or administration, is intended to be final. Every
despatch is directed to breaking the connection between the two
countries and winding up the severed strings. But responsibilities which
had been lightly assumed clung like the shirt of Nessus. The ordinary
practice of civilised nations demanded that some attempt should be
made to justify interference by reorganisation. The British Government
watched therefore with anxious solicitude the efforts of Egypt to
evacuate the Soudan and bring the garrisons safely home. They utterly
declined to assist with military force, but they were generous with
their advice. Everybody at that time distrusted the capacities of the
Egyptians, and it was thought the evacuation might be accomplished if
it were entrusted to stronger and more honest men than were bred by the
banks of the Nile. The Ministers looked about them, wondering how
they could assist the Egyptian Government without risk or expense to
themselves, and in an evil hour for their fame and fortunes someone
whispered the word 'Gordon.' Forthwith they proceeded to telegraph to
Cairo: 'Would General Charles Gordon be of any use to you or to the
Egyptian Government; and, if so, in what capacity'? The Egyptian
Government replied through Sir Evelyn Baring that as the movement in
the Soudan was partly religious they were 'very much averse' from the
appointment of a Christian in high command. The eyes of all those who
possessed local knowledge were turned to a different person. There was
one man who might stem the tide of Mahdism, who might perhaps restore
the falling dominion of Egypt, who might at least save the garrisons of
the Soudan. In their necessity and distress the Khedivial advisers and
the British plenipotentiary looked as a desperate remedy to the man
whose liberty they had curtailed, whose property they had confiscated,
and whose son they had executed--Zubehr Pasha.
This was the agent for whom the Government of Egypt hankered. The idea
was supported by all who were acquainted with the local conditions. A
week after Sir Evelyn Baring had declined General Gordon's services he
wrote: 'Whatever may be Zubehr's faults, he is said to be a man of
great energy and resolution. The Egyptian Government considers that his
services may be very useful.... Baker Pasha is anxious to avail himself
of Zubehr Pasha's services.'[Sir Evelyn Baring, letter of December 9,
1883.] It is certain that had the Egyptian Government been a free agent,
Zubehr would have been sent to the Soudan as its Sultan, and assisted by
arms, money, and perhaps by men, to make head against the Mahdi. It is
probable that at this particular period the Mahdi would have collapsed
before a man whose fame was nearly equal to, and whose resources would
have been much greater than, his own. But the British Ministry would
countenance no dealings with such a man. They scouted the idea of
Zubehr, and by so doing increased their obligation to suggest an
alternative. Zubehr being rejected, Gordon remained. It is scarcely
possible to conceive a greater contrast than that which these two men
presented. It was a leap from the Equator to the North Pole.
When difficulties and dangers perplex all minds, it has often happened
in history that many men by different lines of thought arrive at the
same conclusion. No complete record has yet been published of the
telegrams which passed between the Government and their agent at this
juncture. The Blue-books preserve a disingenuous discretion. But it is
known that from the very first Sir Evelyn Baring was bitterly opposed
to General Gordon's appointment. No personal friendship existed
between them, and the Administrator dreaded the return to the feverish
complications of Egyptian politics of the man who had always been
identified with unrest, improvisation, and disturbance. The pressure
was, however, too strong for him to withstand. Nubar Pasha, the Foreign
Office, the British public, everyone clamoured for the appointment.
Had Baring refused to give way, it is probable that he would have been
overruled. At length he yielded, and, as soon as his consent had been
obtained, the government turned with delight to Gordon. On the 17th of
January Lord Wolseley requested him to come to England. On the 18th he
met the Cabinet. That same night he started on the long journey from
which he was never to return.
Gordon embarked on his mission in high spirits, sustained by that belief
in personality which too often misleads great men and beautiful women.
It was, he said, the greatest honour ever conferred upon him. Everything
smiled. The nation was delighted. The Ministers were intensely relieved.
The most unbounded confidence was reposed in the envoy. His interview
with the Khedive was 'very satisfactory.' His complete authority was
proclaimed to all the notables and natives of the Soudan [Proclamation
of the Khedive, January 26, 1884.] He was assured of the support of the
Egyptian Government [Sir E. Baring to Major-General Gordon, January 25,
1884.] The London Foreign Office, having with becoming modesty admitted
that they had not 'sufficient local knowledge,' [Earl Granville to Sir
E. Baring, January 22, 1884.] accorded him 'widest discretionary
power.' [Sir E. Baring to Earl Granville, February 1, 1884.] One hundred
thousand pounds was placed to his credit, and he was informed that
further sums would be supplied when this was exhausted. He was assured
that no effort would be wanting on the part of the Cairene authorities,
whether English or Egyptian, to afford him all the support and
co-operation in their power [Sir E. Baring to Major-General Gordon,
January 25, 1884.] 'There is no sort of difference,' wrote Sir Evelyn
Baring, 'between General Gordon's views and those entertained by Nubar
Pasha and myself.' [Sir E. Baring to Earl Granville, February 1,1884.]
Under these propitious auguries the dismal and disastrous enterprise
began.
His task, though difficult and, as it ultimately proved, impossible, was
clearly defined. 'You will bear in mind,' wrote Sir Evelyn Baring,
'that the main end to be pursued is the evacuation of the Soudan.' 'The
object... of your mission to the Soudan,' declared the Khedive, 'is to
carry into execution the evacuation of those territories and to withdraw
our troops, civil officials, and such of the inhabitants... as may wish
to leave for Egypt... and after the evacuation to take the necessary
steps for establishing an organised Government in the different
provinces.' Nor was he himself under any misconception. He drew up a
memorandum when on board the Tanjore in which he fully acquiesced in the
evacuation of the Soudan. In a sentence which breathes the same spirit
as Mr. Gladstone's famous expression, 'a people rightly struggling to
be free,' he wrote: 'I must say that it would be an iniquity to
conquer these peoples and then hand them back to the Egyptians without
guarantees of future good government.' Finally, he unhesitatingly
asserted: 'No one who has ever lived in the Soudan can escape the
reflection "What a useless possession is this land!"' And Colonel
Stewart, who accompanied him and endorsed the memorandum, added: 'And
what a huge encumbrance to Egypt!' Thus far there was complete agreement
between the British envoy and the Liberal Cabinet.
It is beyond the scope of these pages to describe his long ride across
the desert from Korosko to Abu Hamed, his interview with the notables at
Berber, or his proclamation of the abandonment of the Soudan, which
some affirm to have been an important cause of his ruin. On the 22nd of
February he arrived at Khartoum. He was received with rejoicing by the
whole population. They recognised again their just Governor-General and
their present deliverer. Those who had been about to fly for the north
took fresh heart. They believed that behind the figure of the envoy
stood the resources of an Empire. The Mahdi and the gathering Dervishes
were perplexed and alarmed. Confusion and hesitancy disturbed their
councils and delayed their movements. Gordon had come. The armies
would follow. Both friends and foes were deceived. The great man was at
Khartoum, but there he would remain--alone.
Whatever confidence the General had felt in the power of his personal
influence had been dispelled on the journey to Khartoum. He had no more
illusions. His experienced eye reviewed the whole situation. He saw
himself confronted with a tremendous racial movement. The people of the
Soudan had risen against foreigners. His only troops were Soudanese. He
was himself a foreigner. Foremost among the leaders of the revolt were
the Arab slave dealers, furious at the attempted suppression of their
trade. No one, not even Sir Samuel Baker, had tried harder to suppress
it than Gordon. Lastly, the whole movement had assumed a fanatical
character. Islam marched against the infidel. Gordon was a Christian.
His own soldiers were under the spell they were to try to destroy. To
them their commander was accursed. Every influence was hostile, and in
particular hostile to his person. The combined forces of race, class,
and religion were against him. He bowed before their irresistible
strength. On the very day of his arrival at Khartoum, while the
townsfolk were cheering his name in the streets and the batteries were
firing joyful salutes, while the people of England thought his mission
already accomplished and the Government congratulated themselves on the
wisdom of their action, General Gordon sat himself down and telegraphed
a formal request to Cairo for Zubehr Pasha.
The whole story of his relations with Zubehr is extremely
characteristic. Zubehr's son, Suliman, had been executed, if not by
Gordon's orders, at least during his administration of the Soudan and
with his complete approval. 'Thus,' he had said, 'does God make gaps in
the ranks of His enemies.' He had hardly started from London on his
new mission, when he telegraphed to Sir Evelyn Baring, telling him that
Zubehr was a most dangerous man and requesting that he might be at once
deported to Cyprus. This was, of course, quite beyond the powers or
intention of the British Agent. The General arrived in Cairo like a
whirlwind close behind his telegram, and was very angry to hear that
Zubehr was still in Egypt. Before starting up the river he went to see
Sherif Pasha. In the ex-Minister's ante-room he met the very man he had
determined to avoid--Zubehr. He greeted him with effusion. They had a
long talk about the Soudan, after which Gordon hurried to the Agency and
informed Sir Evelyn Baring that Zubehr must accompany him to Khartoum at
once. Baring was amazed. He did not himself disapprove of the plan.
He had, in fact, already recommended it. But he thought the change in
Gordon's attitude too sudden to be relied on. To-morrow he might change
again. He begged the General to think more seriously of the matter.
Gordon with his usual frankness admitted that his change of mind had
been very sudden. He had been conscious, he said, of a 'mystic feeling'
that Zubehr was necessary to save the situation in the Soudan.
Gordon left Cairo still considering the matter. So soon as he made his
formal demand from Khartoum for the assistance of Zubehr it was evident
that his belief in the old slave dealer's usefulness was a sound
conviction and not a mere passing caprice. Besides, he had now become
'the man on the spot,' and as such his words carried double force. Sir
Evelyn Baring determined to support the recommendation with his whole
influence. Never was so good a case made out for the appointment of so
bad a man. The Envoy Extraordinary asked for him; Colonel Stewart, his
colleague, concurred; the British Agent strongly urged the request; the
Egyptian Government were unanimous; and behind all these were ranged
every single person who had the slightest acquaintance with the Soudan.
nothing could exceed the vigour with which the demand was made. On the
1st of March General Gordon telegraphed: 'I tell you plainly, it is
impossible to get Cairo employees out of Khartoum unless the Government
helps in the way I told you. They refuse Zubehr.... but it was the only
chance.' And again on the 8th: 'If you do not send Zubehr, you have
no chance of getting the garrisons away.' 'I believe,' said Sir Evelyn
Baring in support of these telegrams, 'that General Gordon is quite
right when he says that Zubehr Pasha is the only possible man. Nubar is
strongly in favour of him. Dr. Bohndorf, the African traveller, fully
confirms what General Gordon says of the influence of Zubehr.' The Pasha
was vile, but indispensable.
Her Majesty's Government refused absolutely to have anything to do with
Zubehr. They declined to allow the Egyptian Government to employ him.
They would not entertain the proposal, and scarcely consented to discuss
it. The historians of the future may occupy their leisure and exercise
their wits in deciding whether the Ministers and the people were right
or wrong; whether they had a right to indulge their sensitiveness at
so terrible a cost; whether they were not more nice than wise; whether
their dignity was more offended by what was incurred or by what was
avoided.
General Gordon has explained his views very clearly and concisely: 'Had
Zubehr Pasha been sent up when I asked for him, Berber would in
all probability never have fallen, and one might have made a Soudan
Government in opposition to the Mahdi. We choose to refuse his coming
up because of his antecedents in re slave trade; granted that we had
reason, yet, as we take no precautions as to the future of these lands
with respect to the slave trade, the above opposition seems absurd.
I will not send up 'A' because he will do this, but I will leave the
country to 'B', who will do exactly the same [Major-General Gordon,
JOURNALS AT KHARTOUM.]
But if the justice of the decision is doubtful, its consequences were
obvious. Either the British Government were concerned with the Soudan,
or they were not. If they were not, then they had no reason or right to
prohibit the appointment of Zubehr. If they were, they were bound to see
that the garrisons were rescued. It was an open question whether Great
Britain was originally responsible for the safety of the garrisons.
General Gordon contended that we were bound to save them at all costs,
and he backed his belief with his life. Others may hold that Governments
have no right to lay, or at any rate must be very judicious in the
laying of burdens on the backs of their own countrymen in order that
they may indulge a refined sense of chivalry towards foreigners. England
had not misgoverned the Soudan, had not raised the revolt or planted the
garrisons. All that Egypt had a right to expect was commiseration. But
the moment Zubehr was prohibited the situation was changed. The refusal
to permit his employment was tantamount to an admission that affairs
in the Soudan involved the honour of England as well as the honour of
Egypt. When the British people--for this was not merely the act of the
Government--adopted a high moral attitude with regard to Zubehr,
they bound themselves to rescue the garrisons, peaceably if possible,
forcibly if necessary.
With their refusal to allow Zubehr to go to the Soudan began the long
and miserable disagreement between the Government and their envoy.
Puzzled and disturbed at the reception accorded to his first request,
Gordon cast about for other expedients. He had already stated that
Zubehr was 'the only chance.' But it is the duty of subordinates to
suggest other courses when those they recommend are rejected; and with
a whole-hearted enthusiasm and unreserved loyalty the General threw
himself into the affair and proposed plan after plan with apparent hope.
Gordon considered that he was personally pledged to effect the
evacuation of Khartoum by the garrison and civil servants. He
had appointed some of the inhabitants to positions of trust, thus
compromising them with the Mahdi. Others had undoubtedly been encouraged
to delay their departure by his arrival. He therefore considered that
his honour was involved in their safety. Henceforward he was inflexible.
Neither rewards nor threats could move him. Nothing that men could offer
would induce him to leave Khartoum till its inhabitants were rescued.
The Government on their side were equally stubborn. Nothing, however
sacred, should induce them to send troops to Khartoum, or in any way
involve themselves in the middle of Africa. The town might fall; the
garrison might be slaughtered; their envoy--But what possibilities they
were prepared to face as regards him will not be known until all of this
and the next generation are buried and forgotten.
The deadlock was complete. To some men the Foreign Office might have
suggested lines of retreat, covered by the highest official praise, and
leading to preferment and reward. Others would have welcomed an order to
leave so perilous a post. But the man they had sent was the one man of
all others who was beyond their control, who cared nothing for what they
could give or take away. So events dragged on their wretched course.
Gordon's proposals became more and more impracticable as the best
courses he could devise were successively vetoed by the Government,
and as his irritation and disappointment increased. The editor of his
Journals has enumerated them with indignant care. He had asked for
Zubehr. Zubehr was refused. He had requested Turkish troops. Turkish
troops were refused. He had asked for Mohammedan regiments from India.
The Government regretted their inability to comply. He asked for a
Firman from the Sultan to strengthen his position. It was 'peremptorily
refused.' He proposed to go south in his steamers to Equatoria. The
Government forbade him to proceed beyond Khartoum. He asked that 200
British troops might be sent to Berber. They were refused. He begged
that a few might be sent to Assuan. None were sent. He proposed to
visit the Mahdi himself and try to arrange matters with him personally.
Perhaps he recognised a kindred spirit. The Government in this case very
naturally forbade him.
At last the quarrel is open. He makes no effort to conceal his disgust.
'I leave you,' he says, the 'indelible disgrace of abandoning the
garrisons.' [Major-General Gordon to Sir E. Baring (telegraphic),
received at Cairo April 16.] Such abandonment is, he declares, 'the
climax of meanness.' [Ibid, despatched April 8.] He reiterates his
determination to abide with the garrison of Khartoum. 'I will not leave
these people after all they have gone through.' [Major-General Gordon
to Sir E. Baring, Khartoum, July 30; received at Cairo October 15.] He
tosses his commission contemptuously from him: 'I would also ask her
Majesty's Government to accept the resignation of my commission.'
[Major-General Gordon to Sir E. Baring (telegraphic), Khartoum, March
9.] The Government 'trust that he will not resign,' [Earl Granville
to Sir E. Baring, Foreign Office, March 13.] and his offer remains
in abeyance. Finally, in bitterness and vexation, thinking himself
abandoned and disavowed, he appeals to Sir Evelyn Baring personally:
'I feel sure, whatever you may feel diplomatically, I have your
support--and that of every man professing himself a gentleman--in
private'; [Major-General Gordon to Sir E. Baring (telegraphic), received
at Cairo April 16.] and as a last hope he begs Sir Samuel Baker to
appeal to 'British and American millionaires' to subscribe two hundred
thousand pounds to enable him to carry out the evacuation without, and
even in spite of, the Governments of Cairo and London; and Sir Samuel
Baker writes a long letter to the Times in passionate protest and
entreaty.
Such are the chief features in the wretched business. Even the
Blue-books in their dry recital arouse in the reader painful and
indignant emotions. But meanwhile other and still more stirring events
were passing outside the world of paper and ink.
The arrival of Gordon at Khartoum had seriously perplexed and alarmed
Mohammed Ahmed and his Khalifas. Their following was discouraged, and
they themselves feared lest the General should be the herald of armies.
His Berber proclamation reassured them, and as the weeks passed without
reinforcements arriving, the Mahdi and Abdullah, with that courage
which in several great emergencies drew them to the boldest courses,
determined to put a brave face on the matter and blockade Khartoum
itself. They were assisted in this enterprise by a revival of the
patriotic impulse throughout the country and a consequent stimulus to
the revolt. To discover the cause it is necessary to look to the Eastern
Soudan, where the next tragedy, after the defeat of Hicks, is laid.
The Hadendoa tribe, infuriated by oppression and misgovernment, had
joined the rebellion under the leadership of the celebrated, and perhaps
immortal, Osman Digna. The Egyptian garrisons of Tokar and Sinkat were
beleaguered and hard pressed. Her Majesty's Government disclaimed all
responsibility. Yet, since these towns were not far from the coast, they
did not prohibit an attempt on the part of the Egyptian Government to
rescue the besieged soldiers. Accordingly an Egyptian force 3,500 strong
marched from Suakin in February 1884 to relieve Tokar, under the command
of General Baker, once the gallant colonel of the 10th Hussars. Hard by
the wells of Teb they were, on the 5th of February, attacked by about a
thousand Arabs.
'On the square being only threatened by a small force of the enemy...
the Egyptian troops threw down their arms and ran, carrying away the
black troops with them, and allowing themselves to be killed without
the slightest resistance.' [General Baker to Sir E. Baring, February 6
(official despatch), telegraphic.] The British and European officers
in vain endeavoured to rally them. The single Soudanese battalion fired
impartially on friend and foe. The general, with that unshaken courage
and high military skill which had already on the Danube gained him
a continental reputation, collected some fifteen hundred men, mostly
unarmed, and so returned to Suakin. Ninety-six officers and 2,250 men
were killed. Krupp guns, machine guns, rifles, and a large supply of
ammunition fell to the victorious Arabs. Success inflamed their ardour
to the point of madness. The attack of the towns was pressed with
redoubled vigour. The garrison of Sinkat, 800 strong, sallied out
and attempted to fight their way to Suakin. The garrison of Tokar
surrendered. Both were destroyed.
The evil was done. The slaughter was complete. Yet the British
Government resolved to add to it. The garrisons they had refused to
rescue they now determined to avenge. In spite of their philanthropic
professions, and in spite of the advice of General Gordon, who felt
that his position at Khartoum would be still further compromised by
operations on his only line of retreat [Sir E. Baring to Earl Granville,
Cairo, February 23.], a considerable military expedition consisting of
one cavalry and two infantry brigades, was sent to Suakin. The command
was entrusted to General Graham. Troops were hurriedly concentrated.
The 10th Hussars, returning from India, were stopped and mounted on the
horses of the gendarmerie. With admirable celerity the force took the
field. Within a month of the defeat at Teb they engaged the enemy almost
on the very scene of the disaster. On the 4th of March they slew 3,000
Hadendoa and drove the rest in disorder from the ground. Four weeks
later a second action was fought at Tamai. Again the success of the
British troops was complete; again the slaughter of the Arabs was
enormous. But neither victory was bloodless. El Teb cost 24 officers and
168 men; Tamai, 13 officers and 208 men. The effect of these operations
was the dispersal of Osman Digna's gathering. That astute man, not for
the first or last time, made a good retreat.
Ten thousand men had thus been killed in the space of three months in
the Eastern Soudan. By the discipline of their armies the Government
were triumphant. The tribes of the Red Sea shore cowered before them.
But as they fought without reason, so they conquered without profit.
As soon as Gordon had been finally refused the assistance of Zubehr
Pasha, it was evident that the rescue of the garrisons was impossible.
The General had been sent as the last hope. Rightly or wrongly, his
recommendations were ignored. His mission was an admitted failure. After
that the only question was how to bring him away as quickly as possible.
It was certain that he would not come willingly. Force was necessary.
Yet it was difficult to know how to apply it. After the victories in the
Eastern Soudan the opportunity presented itself. The road was open. The
local tribes were crushed. Berber had not then fallen. The Mahdi was
himself still on the road from El Obeid to Khartoum. Sir Evelyn Baring
saw the chance. He did not then occupy the formidable and imposing
position in Egyptian politics that he has since attained. But with
all his influence he urged the despatch of a small flying column to
Khartoum. His idea was simple. One thousand or twelve hundred men were
to mount on camels and ride thither via Berber. Those who fell ill or
whose camels broke down would have to take their chance by the
roadside. The plan, however, broke down in the military detail. Only one
honourable course remained--a regular expedition. This the British Agent
at once began to urge. This the Government obstinately refused to admit;
and meanwhile time was passing.
The situation at Khartoum became grave even before the breach between
General Gordon and Mr. Gladstone's Cabinet was complete. While the
British Government was indulging in vengeful operations in the Eastern
Soudan, the Mahdi advanced slowly but steadily upon the town with a
following variously estimated at from fifteen to twenty thousand men. On
the 7th of March Colonel Stewart telegraphed from Khartoum: 'The Mahdi
has attempted to raise the people of Shendi by an emissary.... We may be
cut off;' [Lieut.-Colonel Stewart to Sir E. Baring, March 7, 1884.] and
on the 11th Gordon himself reported: 'The rebels are four hours distant
on the Blue Nile.' [Major-General Gordon to Sir E. Baring, March 11,
1884.] Thereafter no more telegrams came, for on the 15th the wire was
cut between Shendi and Berber, and the blockade had commenced.
The long and glorious defence of the town of Khartoum will always
fascinate attention. That one man, a European among Africans, a
Christian among Mohammedans, should by his genius have inspired the
efforts of 7,000 soldiers of inferior race, and by his courage have
sustained the hearts of 30,000 inhabitants of notorious timidity, and
with such materials and encumbrances have offered a vigorous resistance
to the increasing attacks of an enemy who, though cruel, would yet
accept surrender, during a period of 317 days, is an event perhaps
without parallel in history. But it may safely be predicted that no one
will ever write an account which will compare in interest or in detail
with that set forth by the man himself in the famous. 'Journals at
Khartoum.'
The brief account has delighted thousands of readers in Europe and
America. Perhaps it is because he is careless of the sympathy of men
that Charles Gordon so readily wins it. Before the first of the six
parts into which the Journals were divided is finished, the reader has
been won. Henceforth he sees the world through Gordon's eyes. With
him he scoffs at the diplomatists; despises the Government; becomes
impatient--unreasonably, perhaps--with a certain Major Kitchener in the
Intelligence Branch, whose information miscarried or was not despatched;
is wearied by the impracticable Shaiggia Irregulars; takes interest in
the turkey-cock and his harem of four wives; laughs at the 'black
sluts' seeing their faces for the first time in the mirror. With him he
trembles for the fate of the 'poor little beast,' the Husseinyeh, when
she drifts stern foremost on the shoal, 'a penny steamer under cannon
fire'; day after day he gazes through the General's powerful telescope
from the palace roof down the long brown reaches of the river towards
the rocks of the Shabluka Gorge, and longs for some sign of the
relieving steamers; and when the end of the account is reached, no
man of British birth can read the last words, 'Now mark this, if the
Expeditionary Force--and I ask for no more than two hundred men--does
not come within ten days, the town may fall; and I have done my best for
the honour of our country. Good-bye,' without being thrilled with vain
regrets and futile resolutions. And then the account stops short. Nor
will the silence ever be broken. The sixth instalment of the Journals
was despatched on the 14th of December; and when it is finished the
reader, separated suddenly from the pleasant companionship, experiences
a feeling of loss and annoyance. Imagination, long supported, is brushed
aside by stern reality. Henceforward Gordon's perils were unrecorded.
I would select one episode only from the Journals as an example of
the peculiarity and the sternness of Charles Gordon's character--his
behaviour towards Slatin. This Austrian officer had been Governor of
Darfur with the rank in the Egyptian service of Bey. For four years
he had struggled vainly against the rebellion. He had fought numerous
engagements with varied success. He had been several times wounded.
Throughout his province and even beyond its limits he bore the
reputation of a brave and capable soldier. The story of his life of
suffering and adventure, written by himself, is widely known, and he is
thought by those who have read it to be a man of feeling and of
honour. By those who enjoy his personal acquaintance this belief is
unhesitatingly confirmed. He had, however, committed an act which
deprived him of Gordon's sympathy and respect. During the fighting in
Darfur, after several defeats, his Mohammedan soldiers were discouraged
and attributed their evil fortune to the fact that their commander was
an infidel under the curse of the Almighty. Slatin therefore proclaimed
himself a follower of the Prophet, and outwardly at least adopted the
faith of Islam. The troops, delighted at his conversion and cheered by
the hope of success, renewed their efforts, and the resistance of the
Governor of Darfur was prolonged. The end, however, was deferred,
not averted. After the destruction of General Hicks's army Slatin was
compelled to surrender to the Dervishes. The religion he had assumed
to secure victory he observed to escape death. The Arab leaders, who
admired his courage, treated him at first with respect and kindness, and
he was conducted to the Mahdi in his encampment before Khartoum. There
during the siege he remained, closely watched but not imprisoned.
Thence he wrote letters to Gordon explaining his surrender, excusing his
apostacy, and begging that he might be allowed--not even assisted--to
escape to Khartoum. The letters are extant, and scarcely anyone who
reads them, reflecting on the twelve years of danger and degradation
that lay before this man, will refuse their compassion.
Gordon was inflexible. Before the arrival of the letters his allusions
to Slatin are contemptuous: 'One cannot help being amused at the Mahdi
carrying all the Europeans about with him--nuns, priests, Greeks,
Austrian officers--what a medley, a regular Etat-Major!' [JOURNALS AT
KHARTOUM.] He is suspicious of the circumstances of his surrender. 'The
Greek... says Slatin had 4,000 ardebs of dura, 1,500 cows, and plenty
of ammunition: he has been given eight horses by the Mahdi.' He will
not vouch for such a man; but he adds, with characteristic justice, 'all
this information must be taken with reserve.'
At length the letters came. At the peril of his life, when ordered to
write and demand the surrender of the town, Slatin substituted an appeal
to Gordon to countenance his escape. This is the uncompromising minute
in the Journals: 'Oct. 16. The letters of Slatin have arrived. I have no
remarks to make on them, and cannot make out why he wrote them.' In the
afternoon, indeed, he betrays some pity; but it is the pity of a man
for a mouse. 'He is evidently not a Spartan... he will want some
quarantine... one feels sorry for him.' The next day he is again
inexorable, and gives his reasons clearly. 'I shall have nothing to do
with Slatin's coming here to stay, unless he has the Mahdi's positive
leave, which he is not likely to get; his doing so would be the breaking
of his parole which should be as sacred when given to the Mahdi as
to any other power, and it would jeopardise the safety of all these
Europeans, prisoners with Mahdi.'
Slatin's position, it should be observed, was not that of an officer
released on parole, but of a prisoner of war in durance in the enemy's
camp. In such circumstances he was clearly entitled to escape at his
own proper risk. If his captors gave him the chance, they had only
themselves to blame. His position was not dissimilar from that of the
black soldiers who had been captured by the Dervishes and were now made
to serve against the Government. These deserted to Khartoum daily, and
the General fully acquiesced in their doing so. As to Slatin's escape
affecting the treatment of the other European prisoners, it must be
observed that when at various times escapes were effected from Omdurman,
and ultimately when Slatin himself escaped, no ill-treatment was
inflicted on the rest of the prisoners; and even had such ill-treatment
been the certain consequence of an escape, that need not have debarred
a man, according to the customs of war, from attempting to regain his
liberty. Nothing but his free and formal promise, obtained in return
for favours received, can alienate that right. If the Mahdi chose to
slaughter the remaining prisoners, the responsibility rested with the
Mahdi.
Slatin was, however, in no position to argue his case. His
correspondence with Gordon was discovered. For some days his life hung
on a thread. For several months he was heavily chained and fed on a
daily handful of uncooked doura, such as is given to horses and mules.
Tidings of these things were carried to Gordon. 'Slatin,' he observes
icily, 'is still in chains.' He never doubted the righteousness of the
course he had adopted, never for an instant. But few will deny that
there were strong arguments on both sides. Many will assert that they
were nicely balanced. Gordon must have weighed them carefully. He never
wavered. Yet he needed Slatin. He was alone. He had no one in whose
military capacity he could put the slightest confidence. Again and again
in the Journals he expresses his want of trustworthy subordinates. He
could not be everywhere, he said. 'Nearly every order has to be repeated
two or three times. I am weary of my life.' 'What one has felt so much
here is the want of men like Gessi, or Messadaglia, or Slatin, but I
have no one to whom I could entrust expeditions.....'
This was the man who would have employed Zubehr and bowed to expediency.
But Zubehr had never 'denied his Lord.'
The actual defence of Khartoum is within the province of the Journals,
nor shall I attempt a chronological account. After the 10th of
September, when General Gordon sent Colonel Stewart and Messrs. Power
and Herbin down the river in the ill-fated Abbas steamer, he was
altogether alone. Many men have bowed to the weight of responsibility.
Gordon's responsibility was undivided. There was no one to whom he could
talk as an equal. There was no one to whom he could--as to a trusty
subordinate--reveal his doubts. To some minds the exercise of power
is pleasant, but few sensations are more painful than responsibility
without control. The General could not supervise the defence. The
officers robbed the soldiers of their rations. The sentries slumbered at
their posts. The townspeople bewailed their misfortunes, and all ranks
and classes intrigued with the enemy in the hope of securing safety
when the town should fall. Frequent efforts were made to stir up the
inhabitants or sap their confidence. Spies of all kinds pervaded the
town. The Egyptian Pashas, despairing, meditated treason. Once an
attempt was made to fire the magazine. Once no less than eighty thousand
ardebs of grain was stolen from the arsenal. From time to time the
restless and ceaseless activity of the commander might discover some
plot and arrest the conspirators; or, checking some account, might
detect some robbery; but he was fully aware that what he found out
was scarcely a tithe of what he could not hope to know. The Egyptian
officers were untrustworthy. Yet he had to trust them. The inhabitants
were thoroughly broken by war, and many were disloyal. He had to feed
and inspirit them. The town itself was scarcely defensible. It must
be defended to the end. From the flat roof of his palace his telescope
commanded a view of the forts and lines. Here he would spend the greater
part of each day, scrutinising the defences and the surrounding country
with his powerful glass. When he observed that the sentries on the forts
had left their posts, he would send over to have them flogged and
their superiors punished. When his 'penny steamers' engaged the Dervish
batteries he would watch, 'on tenter-hooks,' a combat which might be
fatal to the defence, but which, since he could not direct it, must be
left to officers by turns timid and reckless: and in the dark hours of
the night he could not even watch. The Journals, the only receptacle of
his confidences, display the bitterness of his sufferings no less than
the greatness of his character. 'There is no contagion,' he writes,
'equal to that of fear. I have been rendered furious when from anxiety I
could not eat, I would find those at the same table were in like manner
affected.'
To the military anxieties was added every kind of worry which may
weary a man's soul. The women clamoured for bread. The townsfolk heaped
reproaches upon him. The quarrel with the British Government had cut
him very deeply. The belief that he was abandoned and discredited, that
history would make light of his efforts, would perhaps never know of
them, filled his mind with a sense of wrong and injustice which preyed
upon his spirits. The miseries of the townsfolk wrung his noble,
generous heart. The utter loneliness depressed him. And over all lay the
shadow of uncertainty. To the very end the possibility that 'all might
be well' mocked him with false hopes. The first light of any morning
might reveal the longed-for steamers of relief and the uniforms of
British soldiers. He was denied even the numbing anaesthetic of despair.
Yet he was sustained by two great moral and mental stimulants: his
honour as a man, his faith as a Christian. The first had put all courses
which he did not think right once and for all out of the question, and
so allayed many doubts and prevented many vain regrets. But the second
was the real source of his strength. He was sure that beyond this
hazardous existence, with all its wrongs and inequalities, another life
awaited him--a life which, if he had been faithful and true here
upon earth, would afford him greater faculties for good and wider
opportunities for their use. 'Look at me now,' he once said to a
fellow-traveller, 'with small armies to command and no cities to govern.
I hope that death will set me free from pain, and that great armies
will be given me, and that I shall have vast cities under my command.'
[Lieut.-Colonel N. Newham Davis, 'Some Gordon Reminiscences,' published
in THE MAN OF THE WORLD newspaper, December 14, 1898.] Such was his
bright hope of immortality.
As the severity of military operations increases, so also must the
sternness of discipline. The zeal of the soldiers, their warlike
instincts, and the interests and excitements of war may ensure obedience
of orders and the cheerful endurance of perils and hardships during a
short and prosperous campaign. But when fortune is dubious or adverse;
when retreats as well as advances are necessary; when supplies fail,
arrangements miscarry, and disasters impend, and when the struggle
is protracted, men can only be persuaded to accept evil things by the
lively realisation of the fact that greater terrors await their refusal.
The ugly truth is revealed that fear is the foundation of obedience. It
is certain that the influence of General Gordon upon the garrison and
townspeople of Khartoum owed its greatest strength to that sinister
element. 'It is quite painful,' he writes in his Journals in September,
'to see men tremble so, when they come and see me, that they cannot
hold the match to their cigarette.' Yet he employed all other methods
of inspiring their efforts. As the winter drew on, the sufferings of the
besieged increased and their faith in their commander and his promises
of relief diminished. To preserve their hopes--and, by their hopes,
their courage and loyalty--was beyond the power of man. But what a great
man in the utmost exercise of his faculties and authority might do,
Gordon did.
His extraordinary spirit never burned more brightly than in these last,
gloomy days. The money to pay the troops was exhausted. He issued notes,
signing them with his own name. The citizens groaned under the triple
scourge of scarcity, disease, and war. He ordered the bands to play
merrily and discharged rockets. It was said that they were abandoned,
that help would never come, that the expedition was a myth--the lie of a
General who was disavowed by his Government. Forthwith he placarded
the walls with the news of victories and of the advance of a triumphant
British army; or hired all the best houses by the river's bank for the
accommodation of the officers of the relieving force. A Dervish shell
crashed through his palace. He ordered the date of its arrival to be
inscribed above the hole. For those who served him faithfully he struck
medals and presented them with pomp and circumstance. Others less
laudable he shot. And by all these means and expedients the defence of
the city was prolonged through the summer, autumn, and winter of 1884
and on into the year 1885.
All this time the public anxiety in England had been steadily growing.
If Gordon was abandoned, he was by no means forgotten. As his mission
had been followed with intense interest throughout the whole country,
so its failure had caused general despondency. Disappointment soon gave
place to alarm. The subject of the personal safety of the distinguished
envoy was first raised in the House of Commons on the 16th of March by
Lord Randolph Churchill. Availing himself of the opportunities provided
by Supply, he criticised the vacillating policy of the Government,
their purposeless slaughter in the Eastern Soudan, and their failure to
establish the Suakin-Berber route. He proceeded to draw attention to the
perilous position of General Gordon at Khartoum.
'Colonel Coetlogon has stated that Khartoum may be easily captured; we
know that General Gordon is surrounded by hostile tribes and cut off
from communications with Cairo and London; and under these circumstances
the House has a right to ask her Majesty's Government whether they
are going to do anything to relieve him. Are they going to remain
indifferent to the fate of the one man on whom they have counted to
extricate them from their dilemmas, to leave him to shift for himself,
and not make a single effort on his behalf?' [HANSARD'S PARLIAMENTARY
DEBATES, March 16, 1884.]
The Government remained impassive. Lord E. Fitzmaurice made some sort of
reply, and there were Ministerial cheers. But the subject, Once raised,
was not allowed to drop. Inspired and animated by the earnest energy
of a young man, the Opposition were continually growing stronger. The
conduct of Egyptian affairs afforded ample opportunity for criticism and
attack. All through the summer months and almost every night Ministers
were invited to declare whether they would rescue their envoy or
leave him to his fate. Mr. Gladstone returned evasive answers. The
Conservative Press took the cue. The agitation became intense. Even
among the supporters of the Government there was dissatisfaction. But
the Prime Minister was obdurate and unflinching. At length, at the end
of the Session, the whole matter was brought forward in the gravest
and most formal way by the moving of a vote of censure. The debate that
followed Sir Michael Hicks Beach's motion was long and acrimonious. Mr.
Gladstone's speech only increased the disquietude of his followers and
the fury of the Opposition. Mr. Forster openly declared his disagreement
with his leader; and although Lord Hartington in winding up the debate
threw out some hopes of an expedition in the autumn, the Government
majority fell on the division to twenty-eight. And after the prorogation
the controversy was carried on with undiminished vigour outside the
walls of Parliament, and the clamour in the country grew louder and
louder.
It is usual to look upon Mr. Gladstone's conduct in the matter of the
relief of Gordon as dictated by benevolent weakness. History may take
another view. Strong and stubborn as was the character of the General,
that of the Minister was its equal. If Gordon was the better man,
Gladstone was incomparably the greater. It was easy for the First
Minister of the Crown to despatch an expedition against savages. He was
accustomed to the exercise of power. Compared with the resources of
the Empire, the enterprise was insignificant. Few men have feared
responsibility less than Gladstone. On the other hand, the expressed
desire of the nation was a force to which he had always bowed--to which,
indeed, he owed his political existence. Yet, in spite of the growing
agitation throughout the land, he remained stern and silent. Most men
do what is right, or what they persuade themselves is right; nor is
it difficult to believe that Mr. Gladstone did not feel justified in
involving the nation in operations in the heart of the Soudan for the
purpose, not of saving the life of the envoy--for Gordon had but to
embark on his steamers and come home--but simply in order to vindicate
the personal honour of a man. And it is possible that a feeling of
resentment against the officer whose intractable nature was bringing
such odium upon the Government may have coloured his resolution with a
darker tinge.
But for all his power and influence he was forced to give way. The
Government which had long ignored the call of honour abroad, was driven
to the Soudan by the cries of shame at home. Lord Hartington, at that
time Secretary of State for War, must be dissociated from the general
censure which his principal colleagues have incurred. He was the first
to recognise the obligation which lay upon the Cabinet, and through the
Cabinet upon the nation, and it was to his influence that the despatch
of the relieving expedition was mainly due. The Commander-in-Chief and
the Adjutant-General, who were fully alive to the critical position at
Khartoum, added their recommendations. But even at the last moment Mr.
Gladstone was induced to sanction the advance only by the belief that
the scale of the operations would be small, and that only a single
brigade would be necessary. The decision was taken forthwith by the
Ministry and announced to the nation. The Adjutant-General, however,
asked for a very different force from what the Government had
anticipated, and the single brigade was expanded into an expedition of
ten thousand men, selected from the whole army.
To reverse the decision was now, however, impossible, and the 'Gordon
Relief Expedition' began. The commander to whom the conduct of the
operations had been entrusted reviewed the situation. He saw himself
confronted with a task which was easy and safe if it were undertaken at
leisure, and which was doubtful and perilous if begun in haste. All the
fruits of a long and successful career were staked on the result, and
it is scarcely wonderful that he declined to be swift and reckless.
Shrewdly estimating the military difficulties, he made his plans for a
methodical and deliberate advance which would leave nothing to luck,
and which resembles in character that afterwards carried out by Sir
H. Kitchener. He excluded the idea of a wild glorious rush which might
result in astonishing success or terrible disaster.
Troops and stores were steadily collected at Wady Halfa and along the
Nile. The new Camel Corps, consisting of four regiments, practised their
drills and evolutions. To pilot the boats up the Cataracts voyageurs
were brought from Canada. At length, when all preparations were
complete, the expedition started. The plan was simple. A strong column
of infantry in boats was to work up the river. In case that should not
arrive in time, the Camel Corps was to strike across the Bayuda Desert
from Korti to Metemma. Having arrived there, a small detachment was
to be thrown into Khartoum by Gordon's steamers to sustain the defence
until the arrival of the main body in March or even April of 1885, when
the town could be regularly relieved.
The dramatic character of the enterprise and its picturesque and
original features fascinated the nation, and the advance was watched
with breathless interest. The fortunes of the River Column have been
graphically described by one who played no small part in their attempt.
'The Campaign of the Cataracts' [By Sir William Butler] is a record of
hard and unceasing toil. Day after day the long lines of soldiers hauled
on the tow-ropes or pulled at the oars of the broad-bottomed boats.
Night after night they camped on the banks amid the grim desolation of
the Monassir Desert. Yet their monotonous labours were encouraged by the
knowledge that as soon as the bend of the river at Abu Hamed was reached
the strong north wind would carry them swiftly to Khartoum. And it
seemed a strange and bitter irony that the order to turn back and the
news that all had been in vain was announced to the troops on the very
day when they had cleared the cataracts and were moving forward at five
times their former speed.
The Desert Column started from Korti on the 30th of December. Their
strength did not exceed 1,100 officers and men, but they were the flower
of the army. Dropping their communications, they set forth along the
caravan route towards Metemma. The knowledge which we have since gained
of the resources of the Mahdists enables the peril of their desperate
venture to be fully appreciated. Although the Dervishes were neither so
well armed nor trained as at a later date, they were nearly as numerous
and equally devoid of fear. Their tactics were more in accordance with
modern conditions: their fanaticism was at its height. The British
force, on the other hand, was equipped with weapons scarcely comparable
with those employed in the concluding campaigns. Instead of the powerful
Lee-Metford rifle, with its smokeless powder, its magazine action, and
its absence of recoil, they were armed with the Martini-Henry, which
possessed none of these advantages. In place of the deadly Maxim there
was the Gardner gun--the very gun that jammed at Tamai, and that jammed
again at Abu Klea. The artillery was also in every respect inferior
to that now in general use. Besides all this, the principles of
fire-discipline and of scientific musketry were new, little understood,
and hardly admitted. Nevertheless, the Camel Corps went boldly forward,
and engaged an enemy whose destruction ultimately required the strength
of a better-armed and better-instructed army twelve times as strong.
On the 3rd of January they reached Gakdul Wells. A hundred miles of
their march was accomplished. But they were now delayed by the necessity
of escorting a second column of supplies to Gakdul, and after that until
the arrival of reinforcements which raised their strength to 1,800 of
all ranks. The interval was employed in building two small forts and
establishing an advanced depot; nor was it until the 13th that the march
was resumed. The number of camels was not sufficient for the necessities
of the transport. The food of the camels was too poor for the work they
had to perform. By the 16th, however, they had made fifty miles,
and approached the wells of Abu Klea. Here their further advance was
disputed by the enemy.
The news of the advance of the Desert Column had been duly reported to
the Mahdi and his Arab generals. A small party of English, it was said,
with camels and some cavalry, were coming swiftly to the rescue of the
accursed city. Their numbers were few, scarce 2,000 men. How should they
hope to prevail against 'the expected Mahdi' and the conquering Ansar
who had destroyed Hicks? They were mad; yet they should die; not one
should escape. The delay in the advance offered ample opportunity.
A great force of Arabs was concentrated. Slatin relates how several
thousand men under important Emirs were detached from the army before
Khartoum and marched northward eager for the slaughter of 'the enemies
of God.' At Metemma the main strength of the Jaalin tribe was collected.
With the reinforcements from Omdurman the total force of the Arabs
actually at hand was not less than 10,000, and behind were many
thousands more. They permitted the little column to advance until their
retreat, if defeated, was impossible, and then, confident of victory,
offered battle near the wells of Abu Klea.
The Camel Corps remained halted during the morning of the 16th, and
built a small fort, in which they placed their reserve of stores, and
made some arrangement for the reception of wounded. At one o'clock they
moved leisurely forward, passed through the rocky defile which led into
the valley of Abu Klea and bivouacked. Early the next morning the force
moved out in square formation and advanced upon the enemy. The most
savage and bloody action ever fought in the Soudan by British troops
followed. Notwithstanding the numbers and the valour of the Arabs, that
they penetrated the square, and that they inflicted on the troops a
loss of nine officers and sixty-five men killed and nine officers and
eighty-five men wounded--10 percent of the entire force--they were
driven from the field with great slaughter, and the Desert Column camped
at the wells.
On the morning of the 18th they rested, placed their wounded in the
small fort they had built, and buried their dead. In the afternoon they
continued their advance, marched all through the night, and, having
covered twenty-three miles, halted exhausted, almost within sight of the
river, at daylight on the 19th. Meanwhile the enemy had again collected
in great strength, and an effective rifle fire was opened on the column.
Sir Herbert Stewart received the wound of which a few weeks later he
died. The command devolved upon Sir Charles Wilson. The position was
desperate. Water was running short. The Nile was only four miles away;
but the column were impeded by their wounded and stores, and between
the river and the thirsty men lay the Dervish army, infuriated by their
losses and fully aware of the sore straits to which their astonishing
enemy was now reduced.
It now became necessary to divide the small force. Some must remain to
guard the baggage and the wounded; the others must fight their way to
the water. At three o'clock in the afternoon of the 19th, 900 men left
the hastily made zeriba and marched towards the river. Without their
camels or those of the transport they appeared insignificant, a mere
speck on the broad plain of Metemma. The Dervishes hastened to clinch
the matter.
The square advances slowly and painfully over the stony ground, with
frequent jerky halts to preserve order and to pick up the wounded.
Little puffs of white smoke dot the distant sandhills. Here and there a
gaudy flag waves defiantly. In front the green tops of the palm-trees by
the Nile tantalise but stimulate the soldiers. On the left the great mud
labyrinth of Metemma stretches indefinitely. Suddenly the firing stops.
The low scrub in front is alive with the swarming figures of the enemy.
All the flags dance forward together. Ragged white figures spring up
in hundreds. Emirs on horses appear as if by magic. Everywhere are
men running swiftly forward, waving their spears and calling upon the
Prophet of God to speed their enterprise. The square halts. The weary
men begin to fire with thoughtful care, The Dervishes drop thickly. On
then, children of the desert! you are so many, they are so few. They are
worn with fatigue and their throats are parched. You have drunk deeply
of the Nile. One rush will trample the accursed under the feet of the
faithful. The charge continues. A bugle sounds in the waiting square.
The firing stops. What is this? They lose heart. Their ammunition is
exhausted. On, then, and make an end. Again the smoke ripples along the
line of bayonets and fire is re-opened, this time at closer range and
with far greater effect. The stubborn grandeur of the British soldier is
displayed by desperate circumstances. The men shoot to hit. The attack
crumples. The Emirs--horse and man--collapse. The others turn and
walk--for they will not run--sullenly back towards the town. The square
starts forward. The road to the river is open. With dusk the water is
reached, and never have victors gained a more longed-for prize. The Nile
is won. Gordon remains.
Sir Charles Wilson, having collected his force, remained three days by
the bank of the Nile before attempting any further advance on Khartoum.
He has explained why this delay was necessary, to the satisfaction of
most military critics. Nor is it easy to believe that men who had made
such splendid efforts would have willingly lost a single moment. On the
fourth day he embarked on two of Gordon's steamers, which awaited the
relieving column, and taking with him twenty British soldiers and a few
blue-jackets set forth towards the Shabluka Gorge and the town that lay
beyond. On the 27th of January the rescuers came in sight of Khartoum
and under the fire of the enemy. Many of their perilous adventures seem
to belong to romance rather than to reality: the tiny gimcrack boats
struggling with the strong stream of the cataract, running the gauntlet
of the Arab guns, dropping disconsolately down the river with their
terrible news, or wrecked and stranded on the sandbank; Stuart-Wortley
rowing to the camp before Metemma for help; Beresford starting in the
remaining steamer; the bursting of the boiler by a Dervish shell;
Benbow mending it in a single day; Wilson's rescue and the return to
the entrenchment at Gubat. But the scene that appeals to the imagination
above all the others is that where with both banks ablaze with musketry
and artillery, the black smoke pouring through the shot-holes in the
funnels, the water rising in spurts from the bullets, the men who had
come so far and braved so much stared at the palace roof and, seeing no
flag flying, knew that all was over and that they had come too late.
The news of the Dervish defeats at Abu Klea and Abu Kru impelled the
Mahdi to a desperate venture. The English were but 120 miles away. They
were few, but victorious. It was difficult to say what force could stop
such men. In spite of the wrath of the true God and the valour of Islam
they might prevail. The Mahdi depended on success for existence. The
tremendous forces of fanaticism are exerted only in a forward direction.
Retreat meant ruin. All must be staked on an immediate assault. And,
besides, the moment was ripe. Thus the Arab chiefs reasoned, and wisely
resolved to be reckless. Thus the night of the 25th of January arrived.
The band played as usual in the evening. Gradually the shadows fell and
it became dark. The hungry inhabitants betook themselves to bed. The
anxious but indomitable commander knew that the crisis impended, and
knew also that he was powerless to avert it. Perhaps he slept, satisfied
that he had done his duty; and in the silence of the night the savage
enemy crawled stealthily towards the town. The weary and disheartened
sentinels, weakened by famine and tired of war, maintained a doubtful
vigilance along the ramparts. The subsiding waters of the river had
left a bare gap between the White Nile and the wall. Perhaps there was
treachery besides. On a sudden the loud explosion of musketry broke
the stillness of the night and the slumbers of the people; and with
a continual shouting thousands of Dervishes swarmed through the
unprotected space and entered Khartoum.
One mob of assailants made their way to the palace. Gordon came out to
meet them. The whole courtyard was filled with wild, harlequin figures
and sharp, glittering blades. He attempted a parley. 'Where is your
master, the Mahdi?' He knew his influence over native races. Perhaps
he hoped to save the lives of some of the inhabitants. Perhaps in that
supreme moment imagination flashed another picture before his eyes; and
he saw himself confronted with the false prophet of a false religion,
confronted with the European prisoners who had 'denied their Lord,'
offered the choice of death or the Koran; saw himself facing that savage
circle with a fanaticism equal to, and a courage greater than, their
own; marching in all the pride of faith 'and with retorted scorn' to a
martyr's death.
It was not to be. Mad with the joy of victory and religious frenzy,
they rushed upon him and, while he disdained even to fire his revolver,
stabbed him in many places. The body fell down the steps and lay--a
twisted heap--at the foot. There it was decapitated. The head was
carried to the Mahdi. The trunk was stabbed again and again by the
infuriated creatures, till nothing but a shapeless bundle of torn flesh
and bloody rags remained of what had been a great and famous man and the
envoy of her Britannic Majesty. The blood soaked into the ground, and
left a dark stain which was not immediately effaced. Slatin mentions
that the Arabs used often to visit the place. Ohrwalder went himself,
and more than six weeks after the capture of the town, saw 'black spots'
upon the steps. But they have all since been obliterated.
Such, briefly, is the story of the fall of Khartoum and of the death of
Gordon. The fact that the two steamers arrived only two days after the
capture of the town has given colour to the belief that, but for the
three days' delay at Metemma, the catastrophe might have been averted.
This view appears incorrect. The Arabs had long held Khartoum at their
mercy. They hoped, indeed, to compel its surrender by famine and to
avoid an assault, which after their experience at El Obeid they knew
must cost them dear. Gordon has stated in his Journals that the town
became defenceless by the middle of December. The arrival of twenty
British soldiers and a few officers could not have materially affected
the situation--could only, in fact, have increased the loss. Yet nearly
everyone who reads the tale will wish--in spite of reason--that some
help, however little, had reached the lonely man; that before the
darkness fell he had grasped an English hand, and learned that his
countrymen had not abandoned him, had not forgotten--would never forget.
It may not be possible as yet to fix the exact place which Charles
Gordon will occupy in English history. It is certainly a high one.
Whether he will rank as a commander with Peterborough, Wolfe, and Olive,
those who come after us must decide. We may, however, assert that he was
a man of stainless honour and enduring courage, who in varied capacities
displayed a fertile and abundant genius. He was careless alike of the
honours and comforts of the world, and looked forward with firm faith
to the rewards of a future state. The severity of his religion did not
impair the amiability of his character. The uncertainty of his moods may
have frequently affected the soundness of his opinions, but not often
the justice of his actions. Gordon's statue, set up in the indignant
grief of the nation in the space which is appropriated to the monuments
of Great Captains by sea and land, claims the attention of the
passer-by, not only because it is comparatively new. The figure, its
pose, and its story are familiar even to the poorest citizens of London
and to people from all parts of the United Kingdom. Serene amid the
noise of the traffic, as formerly in that of the battle, the famous
General seems still, with bowed head and thoughtful countenance, to
revolve the problems of the dark Soudan and, inattentive to the clamour
of men, inquires what is acceptable to God.
With the capture of the city and the death of the envoy the reason for
the expedition disappeared. It remained only to withdraw the troops. The
stores which had been brought across the desert at a terrible cost were
thrown hastily into the Nile. The battered steamers which had waited
so long at Metemma were hurriedly dismantled. The Camel Corps, their
extraordinary efforts futile and their camels killed, marched back on
foot to Korti. Their retreat was pressed by the exultant enemy. The
River Column, whose boats after months of labour had just cleared the
Cataracts, and who had gained a success at Kirbekan, were carried
back swiftly by the strong current against which they had hopefully
struggled. The whole Expeditionary Force--Guards, Highlanders, sailors,
Hussars, Indian soldiers, Canadian voyageurs, mules, camels, and
artillery--trooped back forlornly over the desert sands, and behind
them the rising tide of barbarism followed swiftly, until the whole vast
region was submerged. For several months the garrison of Kassala under
a gallant Egyptian maintained a desperate resistance, but at last famine
forced them to surrender, and they shared the fate of the garrisons
of El Obeid, Darfur, Sobat, Tokar, Sinkat, Sennar, and Khartoum. The
evacuation of the Soudan was thus completed.