THE DAWN OF THE NEW PERIOD
The period which was to be that of the regeneration of Egypt and its
people was ushered in by social and political storm and tempest. But
the first warning note of its coming, after a brief moment of panic,
was unheeded by the people. Nearly three centuries had passed since
the country had been invaded by an enemy. That enemy was now the
sovereign Power, and under the grasping, selfish rule of its executive
the trade and commerce of the country had almost entirely disappeared,
and thus isolated from the rest of the world the people had no
conception of the growth of the power and civilisation of the European
nations. They were, therefore, completely ignorant of the events and
political impulses that were, though for the moment indirectly only,
shaping the future that lay before them.
There were both Englishmen and Frenchmen in the country at the time,
but the rulers of the land, arrogant in their petty might, and the
people not less so in their degradation, alike held all foreigners in
contempt, and thus profited nothing from their presence. They had,
therefore, no means of knowing what the relations between the two
great European Powers were, or of anticipating how those relations
were liable to affect their country. Yet the fact that brought about
the opening of the modern period in their history and thus decreed the
ultimate fate of the country was the mutual hostility that swayed the
two Powers. This hostility had no relation to Egypt or its people,
and, but for contributing causes, could never have affected these, yet
it was the desire of the French Government to strike what it fondly
hoped would prove a decisive blow at the growth of English power in
the East, that was the chief inspiring cause of its decision to order
the invasion of Egypt. The Directory, which was at the time the
governing body in France, had indeed more than one reason for taking
this step, nor was it under the Directory that the eyes of the French
had been turned to the valley of the Nile for the first time.
Leibnitz, in 1672, had urged upon Louis XIV. the conquest of the
country as an object worthy of his attention, declaring that the
possession of it would render France the mistress of the world, and
though nothing was done at that time to realise the far-seeing policy
he advocated, there can be no doubt that the idea was never abandoned.
Talleyrand, indeed, said that on his accession to office, he had found
more than one project for its accomplishment lying in the pigeon-holes
of the Foreign Office, and he himself entered heartily into the
scheme, believing that it would be a most important move towards the
fulfilment of his theory that the future of France depended upon the
extension of her influence along the shores of the Mediterranean.
Volney, the traveller and author of the "Ruins of Empires," having
visited Egypt had, in 1786, reported that it was in a practically
defenceless condition, and Magallon, the French Consul at Alexandria,
having for years urged the Government to interfere on behalf of its
subjects in Egypt, had, in 1796, made a voyage to France with the
express purpose of protesting against the indignities and ill-usage
from which they were suffering, and fully confirmed the views of
Volney and Leibnitz. The Directory were thus at once shown the
possibility of acquiring a colony of the utmost value and provided
with a reasonable excuse for its annexation. These and other
arguments, against which the fact that the French nation was then at
peace and on good terms with the Sultan of Turkey, the sovereign of
the country, weighed as nothing, decided the Directory. In March,
1798, therefore, the order to organise an expedition for the conquest
of Egypt was given to Bonaparte, and two months later, on May 19th, he
set out in command of a vast armada, sailing from Toulon and other
ports of the south of France.
Thus it was the aspirations of the French nation for the extension of
its influence in the Mediterranean and for the acquisition of new
colonies and its conquest rivalry with England, and not events in the
country itself, that heralded the dawn of the new period, and
eventually, though chiefly indirectly, produced the greatest change in
the condition and prospects of the people that their history records.
The rapidity with which the French expedition was prepared, and the
secrecy with which its destination was concealed, led the Directory
and Bonaparte himself to hope that it would escape all risk of
interference on its way to Egypt. In this they were not disappointed,
but hearing of the assembling of a great military and naval force in
the south of France, and believing that it was intended to make a
descent upon the Irish coast with a view to co-operation with the
rebels there, Lord Vincent warned Nelson to watch for, and, if
possible, destroy it. The people of India were then, however, like
those of Ireland, in negotiation with the French, and in particular
the famous Tippoo Sultan, "The Tiger of Mysore," longing to be
revenged for the defeat and losses Lord Cornwallis had inflicted upon
him, had sought their aid. Nelson was aware of this, and having a
strong sense of the danger to English interests in India and the East
generally the possession of Egypt by the French would be, guessed the
real destination of the expedition, and finding that the French had
got away to sea, immediately started in pursuit, and, acting upon his
own conception as to its aim, steered straight for Egypt. Bonaparte
had, however, after leaving the French coast, proceeded to Malta,
which he seized, and being thus delayed some days on his way to Egypt,
Nelson passed without falling in with him, and thus it was that on
June 21st the Alexandrians were startled by the approach of the
English Fleet.
As soon as the character of the ships thus unexpectedly appearing on
their coast became known the town was thrown into a state of the
greatest excitement, and the Governor, believing that the fleet was a
hostile one, sent off to Cairo the messengers whose arrival there I
have already chronicled, and at the same time sent other messengers to
summon the Bedouins, or nomad Arabs, inhabiting the neighbouring
deserts, to assist in the defence of the town.
Nelson lost no time in sending ashore to seek news of the French, but
the reception given to his officers was far from friendly. Refusing to
credit the statement that the English came as friends and protectors
and not as enemies, the Governor openly expressed his distrust, and in
doing so simply voiced the feelings of the people. Utterly ignorant of
everything outside the narrow range of their own experience, it was
indeed impossible for these to comprehend how the occupation of Egypt
by the French could be a matter of vital importance to the English. So
when Nelson's officers assured the Governor that they asked nothing
more than to await the arrival of the French and to buy a few supplies
of which the fleet was in need, he answered them that they could have
nothing. "Egypt," said he, "belongs to the Sultan, and neither the
French nor any other people have anything to do with it, so please go
away."
It was a bold speech, and as foolish as it was bold, for no one knew
better than the Governor himself that he was quite powerless to oppose
the English if they wished to land, or to take what they needed by
force. It was a speech, too, worth noticing, for it affords a clue to
much that puzzles the ordinary critic of Egyptian history. Judged by
any known canon of social or international courtesy or policy, it was
not less inexcusable than indiscreet, for it was as likely to enrage
an enemy as to anger a friend, but it was just what one knowing the
people might have expected--the utterance of the impulse of the
moment, and, therefore, a full and truthful statement of the speaker's
thought. For to the Egyptian mind the visit of a fleet of foreign
ships of war could have no other object than the conquest or raiding
of the country, hence the English Fleet must be a hostile one. It was
neither lawful nor wise to give provision or succour of any kind to an
enemy, therefore they had nothing to say to the English but "Please go
away."
It was thus that the people of Alexandria argued then, and it is thus
that the people of Egypt generally still argue. For they have always
been incapable of taking a broad or general view of any subject. No
matter how many-sided a question may be, they, as a rule, can see but
one aspect of it at a time. They look, in fact, at all things through
a mental telescope that, bringing one narrow and limited aspect of a
subject into bold and clear relief, shuts from their vision all that
surrounds it. Hence when, as they can and sometimes do, they change
their point of view, the change is commonly as abrupt as it is
thorough, and those who see only the surface tax them with fickleness.
Of late years there have been signs that, at all events, the educated
classes are learning to reason on surer and safer grounds; but if the
reader would understand their story, he must ever bear in mind the
narrow basis of their judgments and, therefore, of their actions.
While the answer of the Governor to the English is thus illustrative
of a point to be remembered in the character of the Egyptians, the
life-story of the man himself also helps us to more fully grasp their
mental attitude under the changing circumstances of the period. This
Governor, Sayed Mahomed Kerim, was an Egyptian of humble birth, but
one of Arab blood, claiming to be a Sayed or Shereef; that is to say,
a descendant of the Prophet Mahomed's family, and thus one of the Arab
nobility. In his early manhood this man, who as a Sayed, was and is
blessed and prayed for by every Mahomedan in the world at every time
of praying, was glad to fill the modest post of a weigher in the
Customs. Gifted with intelligence and other qualities that commended
him to his superiors, by their favour and his own ability he rose
rapidly to become the local Director of Customs, and eventually, as we
find him, Governor of the town. That in this position he had the
confidence and respect of his townsmen seems clear; and it is thus
evident that, tyrannical and oppressive as was the rule under which
they lived, there was an open path to place and power for able men.
Bribery and corruption, it is true, were rife, so much so, that we may
safely assume that Sayed Mahomed did not attain his high position
wholly without their aid, but they did not play the dominating part
assigned them by historians of the time.
We shall see but little more of this Sayed Mahomed, for though still a
young man, he had but a short span of life to run, yet the little we
shall see makes him a notable man, and one that should be studied.
Bold, impulsive, proud and fearless, with that decision of character
so praised by Foster; quick to decide and unalterable in his
decisions, deciding rightly from his own standpoint, but often with
too limited a view--emphatically more of an Arab than an Egyptian
type, and yet in the few glances we get of him, illustrating, most
aptly, the Egyptian character. Thus, as his answer to the English was
essentially Egyptian and not Arab in substance and manner, so also was
his subsequent action. For an Arab in such a strait would have sought
to gain time by fair-speaking, so that he might take such measures as
he could, or at the worst secure better terms, whereas Sayed Mahomed
spoke in a manner that, had the English been, as he supposed, enemies,
must have precipitated hostilities, and having done so, again
Egyptian-like, made no adequate attempt to protect the town from the
possible consequences of his rashness.
Whether fortunately or otherwise no man can say, Nelson, too intent
upon the object he had in view to be moved from his immediate purpose,
took the rebuff offered him calmly, and, after a day's rest off the
port, sailed away, leaving the Alexandrians to congratulate themselves
upon their own astuteness and to indulge themselves in vain-glorious
anticipations of the prodigies of valour they were to perform should
the French land upon their shores.
A week having passed by without the appearance of an enemy, the people
had regained their wonted calm, when as unexpectedly as though no
warning had been given of its coming the French fleet of twenty-one
vessels of war and over three hundred transports was seen in the
offing heading for the port. This sudden and unlooked-for proof of the
reality of the danger they had refused to credit produced the utmost
consternation.
Once more the Governor despatched messengers in all haste to the
capital, and describing the French fleet as one "without beginning or
end," begged earnestly, but all too late, for aid.
The people of Cairo, like those of Alexandria, when their first alarm
at the arrival of Nelson's fleet had passed away, seeing in his
departure a confirmation of their own conception of his visit, ceased
to think of the matter save as the subject of jest, but were
overwhelmed with dismay at the new alarm, even the Government, which
had been but little moved by the first, being now stirred to activity
and a sense of danger.
The Government of Egypt was then, at least nominally, such as it had
been constituted after the Turkish conquest in 1517 by Sultan Selim.
Keenly recognising the impossibility of enforcing his authority in a
province of the Empire so far off and so difficult of access from his
own capital, the Sultan had, not unwisely, contented himself with
organising a system of government that was, in his opinion, the one
most likely to ensure the permanency of his sovereignty and guarantee
him the receipt of a goodly share of the wealth of his new possession.
Egypt was placed, therefore, as the other provinces of the Empire then
were, and still are, under the government of a Pacha, who was in
effect, though he was accorded neither the style nor the honour of
that rank, a viceroy. But the Sultan, anxious to hold the Pacha in
check by some power ever present and active, divided the territory
under his charge into twenty-four districts, and placed each of these,
as a kind of local governorship, in the hands of a Mamaluk chief or
Bey. Of the Beys chosen for these posts seven were to form a Dewan, or
Council of State, nominally to advise and assist, but in reality to
control the Pacha, whose decisions this Council was empowered to veto.
All real power was therefore vested in the Mamaluks, who, it is
perhaps scarcely necessary to recall, were the troops that, originally
brought into the country as slaves by the Fatimite Caliphs, had
gradually developed their power and influence until their chiefs had
become feudal lords, holding lands and keeping, according to their
individual means, troops of mounted followers, whose physical
qualities and effective training rendered them one of the finest
bodies of cavalry that has ever existed. As must invariably happen
when a weak and incompetent Government seeks the aid of slaves or
mercenaries to sustain its failing dominion, the Mamaluks had
eventually acquired such power that they were enabled to usurp the
government of the country, and had, as we have seen, maintained their
position as Sultans of Egypt from the time of Salah ed Deen up to the
Turkish conquest. Under the system of government established by the
Sultan Selim, though unable to regain the absolute independence they
had lost, they soon recovered almost all their former influence and
power, and as they controlled the military strength of the country,
the small Turkish garrison being quite helpless to oppose them, they
soon became, as before, the real rulers of the land. Being invariably
foreigners, or the immediate descendants of foreigners, Circassians,
Armenians, or other slaves, it was but natural that these Beys should
have no sympathy for the people of the country, and, with the
arrogance characteristic of a military body that has attained
political power, despised all outside of their own ranks, and held it
a disgrace to intermarry with the Egyptians. Actuated by none but the
most selfish aims, they sought and cared for nothing but their own
interests, each of them being a veritable Ishmael, looking upon all
men as his enemies, only accepting the co-operation of his fellow
Mamaluks as a necessary measure of defence, confiding in the loyalty
of his immediate followers only so far as he was able to control them
by rendering their faithfulness to him conducive to their own
interests. Among themselves they of necessity accepted the domination
of the one who by force of arms, intrigues, or other favouring
circumstances, was in a position to enforce his will against that of
the others, and, as might be expected, the Bey who held this prominent
position was the one to whom the post of Sheikh el Beled, or Governor
of Cairo, was accorded, that being the post of all others the most
coveted by them, this Bey being, in practice, the real Governor of the
country, his power being only limited by the necessity he was under of
consulting and conciliating the wishes of the other members of the
Dewan.
It may seem strange that with the power they thus possessed the
Mamaluks should continue to offer even a faint show of respect to the
Pacha, or of loyalty to the Empire, for light as was the yoke these
laid upon them, it was sufficiently galling to men who lived as they
did each wholly absorbed in the prosecution of his own personal aims
and interests, and the more so that, as the wealth of the country
declined under their greedy and ruthless rule, the remittances of
revenue exacted by the Sultan was a yearly draft that seriously
limited their resources. But if the Mamaluk hated and despised all men
not of his own class, he was in turn hated by all others with a hatred
all the fiercer and more bitter that it had no outlet. Thus, with no
friend upon whom he could rely save his own right arm, the Mamaluk
chief, however powerful, was fain to accept the patronage of the
Sultan as the only aid he could look for in his combat with the world,
and he must needs, therefore, be content to pay for that aid with a
certain tribute of grudging loyalty. Nor must it be forgotten that,
ever ready to combine and co-operate against a common foe, each
Mamaluk was equally ready to turn his hand and sword against his
fellow if thereby he might gain aught for himself. Had it not been for
the mutual distrust the knowledge of this fact forced upon them, they
might easily have regained the independence wrested from them by the
Turks. This had, indeed, been momentarily accomplished by Ali Bey,
who, in 1766, not only succeeded in setting himself up as Sultan of
Egypt, but aspiring to extend his rule, had attacked and conquered the
Mahomedan holy cities of Mecca and Medina in Arabia. His triumph was,
however, but shortlived, for Mahomed Bey, the most trusted of his
favourites, to whom he had confided the command of an army for the
conquest of Syria, abandoned his task, and revolting, took his master
Ali prisoner by a treacherous ambush. Unable alone to maintain the
power he had thus for the moment seized, the traitor at once tendered
his submission to the Sultan, and was, in reward for his "fidelity,"
appointed Pacha of Egypt. His tenancy of this office was, however, but
brief, his death soon after, leaving the country once more a prey to
the mutual rivalries of the Beys. In the contest for supremacy that
followed, two of these, freed slaves of his, though constantly opposed
to and frequently in arms against each other, eventually agreed to
share the power between them, the one, Murad Bey, becoming the
military chief of the Mamaluks, and the other, Ibrahim Bey, the Sheikh
el Beled.
Under the joint sway of these two men the country enjoyed a brief
period of greater quiet and peace than it had known for a long time,
and although the tyranny and oppression from which they suffered was
little if at all abated, the people had been so completely despoiled
before and had so little to lose that, as "He that is down need fear
no fall," they had but small anxiety for the morrow.
This was the condition that existed on that memorable night of the
23rd of June in 1798, the eve of the day upon which Cairo had its
first warning of the approach of the French. Could a plebiscite of the
hopes and fears of the people have been taken on that evening, we may
be sure that it would have been unfavourable to any change, and that
they would have elected to bear the ills they had, rather than face
the possibly far worse any change might bring to them.