The River War | Page 7

armed as the

soldiers, more numerous, more courageous, and who regarded the alien
garrisons with fear that continually diminished and hate that
continually grew. And behind regulars and irregulars alike the wild
Arab tribes of the desert and the hardy blacks of the forests, goaded by
suffering and injustice, thought the foreigners the cause of all their
woes, and were delayed only by their inability to combine from
sweeping them off the face of the earth. Never was there such a house
of cards as the Egyptian dominion in the Soudan. The marvel is that it
stood so long, not that it fell so soon.
The names of two men of character and fame are forever connected
with the actual outburst. One was an English general, the other an Arab
priest; yet, in spite of the great gulf and vivid contrast between their
conditions, they resembled each other in many respects. Both were
earnest and enthusiastic men of keen sympathies and passionate
emotions. Both were powerfully swayed by religious fervour. Both
exerted great personal influence on all who came in contact with them.
Both were reformers. The Arab was an African reproduction of the
Englishman; the Englishman a superior and civilised development of
the Arab. In the end they fought to the death, but for an important part
of their lives their influence on the fortunes of the Soudan was exerted
in the same direction. Mohammed Ahmed, 'The Mahdi,' will be
discussed in his own place. Charles Gordon needs little introduction.
Long before this tale begins his reputation was European, and the fame
of the 'Ever-victorious Army' had spread far beyond the Great Wall of
China.
The misgovernment of the Egyptians and the misery of the Soudanese
reached their greatest extreme in the seventh decade of the present
century. From such a situation there seemed to be no issue other than
by force of arms. The Arab tribes lacked no provocation. Yet they were
destitute of two moral forces essential to all rebellions. The first was
the knowledge that better things existed. The second was a spirit of
combination. General Gordon showed them the first. The Mahdi
provided the second.
It is impossible to study any part of Charles Gordon's career without
being drawn to all the rest. As his wild and varied fortunes lead him
from Sebastopol to Pekin, from Gravesend to South Africa, from
Mauritius to the Soudan, the reader follows fascinated. Every scene is

strange, terrible, or dramatic. Yet, remarkable as are the scenes, the
actor is the more extraordinary; a type without comparison in modern
times and with few likenesses in history. Rare and precious is the truly
disinterested man. Potentates of many lands and different degree--the
Emperor of China, the King of the Belgians, the Premier of Cape
Colony, the Khedive of Egypt--competed to secure his services. The
importance of his offices varied no less than their nature. One day he
was a subaltern of sappers; on another he commanded the Chinese
army; the next he directed an orphanage; or was Governor-General of
the Soudan, with supreme powers of life and death and peace and war;
or served as private secretary to Lord Ripon. But in whatever capacity
he laboured he was true to his reputation. Whether he is portrayed
bitterly criticising to Graham the tactics of the assault on the Redan; or
pulling the head of Lar Wang from under his bedstead and waving it in
paroxysms of indignation before the astonished eyes of Sir Halliday
Macartney; or riding alone into the camp of the rebel Suliman and
receiving the respectful salutes of those who had meant to kill him; or
telling the Khedive Ismail that he 'must have the whole Soudan to
govern'; or reducing his salary to half the regulation amount because 'he
thought it was too much'; or ruling a country as large as Europe; or
collecting facts for Lord Ripon's rhetorical efforts--we perceive a man
careless alike of the frowns of men or the smiles of women, of life or
comfort, wealth or fame.
It was a pity that one, thus gloriously free from the ordinary restraining
influences of human society, should have found in his own character so
little mental ballast. His moods were capricious and uncertain, his
passions violent, his impulses sudden and inconsistent. The mortal
enemy of the morning had become a trusted ally before the night. The
friend he loved to-day he loathed to-morrow. Scheme after scheme
formed in his fertile brain, and jostled confusingly together. All in
succession were pressed with enthusiasm. All at times were rejected
with disdain. A temperament naturally neurotic had been aggravated by
an acquired habit of smoking; and the General carried this to so great
an extreme that he was rarely seen without a cigarette. His virtues are
famous among men; his