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The River War

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In the miserable, harassing warfare that accompanied the collection of
taxes the Viceregal commanders gained more from fraud than force. No
subterfuge, no treachery, was too mean for them to adopt: no oath or
treaty was too sacred for them to break. Their methods were cruel, and
if honour did not impede the achievement, mercy did not restrict the
effects of their inglorious successes; and the effete administrators
delighted to order their timid soldiery to carry out the most savage
executions. The political methods and social style of the
Governors-General were imitated more or less exactly by the subordinate
officials according to their degree in the provinces. Since they were
completely hidden from the eye of civilisation, they enjoyed a greater
licence in their administration. As their education was inferior, so
their habits became more gross. Meanwhile the volcano on which they
disported themselves was ominously silent. The Arab tribes obeyed, and
the black population cowered.

The authority of a tyrannical Government was supported by the presence
of a worthless army. Nearly forty thousand men were distributed among
eight main and numerous minor garrisons. Isolated in a roadless country
by enormous distances and natural obstacles, and living in the midst of
large savage populations of fanatical character and warlike habits,
whose exasperation was yearly growing with their miseries, the Viceregal
forces might depend for their safety only on the skill of their officers,
the excellence of their discipline, and the superiority of their weapons.
But the Egyptian officers were at that time distinguished for nothing
but their public incapacity and private misbehaviour. The evil reputation
of the Soudan and its climate deterred the more educated or more wealthy
from serving in such distant regions, and none went south who could
avoid it. The army which the Khedives maintained in the Delta was, judged
by European standards, only a rabble. It was badly trained, rarely paid,
and very cowardly; and the scum of the army of the Delta was the cream of
the army of the Soudan. The officers remained for long periods, many all
their lives, in the obscurity of the remote provinces. Some had been sent
there in disgrace, others in disfavour. Some had been forced to serve out
of Egypt by extreme poverty, others were drawn to the Soudan by the hopes
of gratifying peculiar tastes. The majority had harems of the women of
the country, which were limited only by the amount of money they could
lay their hands on by any method. Many were hopeless and habitual
drunkards. Nearly all were dishonest. All were indolent and incapable.

Under such leadership the finest soldiery would have soon degenerated.
The Egyptians in the Soudan were not fine soldiers. Like their officers,
they were the worst part of the Khedivial army. Like them, they had been
driven to the south. Like them, they were slothful and effete. Their
training was imperfect; their discipline was lax; their courage was low.
Nor was even this all the weakness and peril of their position; for
while the regular troops were thus demoralised, there existed a powerful
local irregular force of Bazingers (Soudanese riflemen), as well armed
as the soldiers, more numerous, more courageous, and who regarded the
alien garrisons with fear that continually diminished and hate that
continually grew. And behind regulars and irregulars alike the wild Arab
tribes of the desert and the hardy blacks of the forests, goaded by
suffering and injustice, thought the foreigners the cause of all their
woes, and were delayed only by their inability to combine from sweeping
them off the face of the earth. Never was there such a house of cards as
the Egyptian dominion in the Soudan. The marvel is that it stood so long,
not that it fell so soon.

The names of two men of character and fame are forever connected
with the actual outburst. One was an English general, the other an Arab
priest; yet, in spite of the great gulf and vivid contrast between their
conditions, they resembled each other in many respects. Both were earnest
and enthusiastic men of keen sympathies and passionate emotions. Both
were powerfully swayed by religious fervour. Both exerted great personal
influence on all who came in contact with them. Both were reformers.
The Arab was an African reproduction of the Englishman; the Englishman
a superior and civilised development of the Arab. In the end they fought
to the death, but for an important part of their lives their influence on
the fortunes of the Soudan was exerted in the same direction. Mohammed
Ahmed, 'The Mahdi,' will be discussed in his own place. Charles Gordon
needs little introduction. Long before this tale begins his reputation
was European, and the fame of the 'Ever-victorious Army' had spread far
beyond the Great Wall of China.

The misgovernment of the Egyptians and the misery of the Soudanese
reached their greatest extreme in the seventh decade of the present
century. From such a situation there seemed to be no issue other than
by force of arms. The Arab tribes lacked no provocation. Yet they were
destitute of two moral forces essential to all rebellions. The first
was the knowledge that better things existed. The second was a spirit
of combination. General Gordon showed them the first. The Mahdi
provided the second.

It is impossible to study any part of Charles Gordon's career
without being drawn to all the rest. As his wild and varied fortunes
lead him from Sebastopol to Pekin, from Gravesend to South Africa,
from Mauritius to the Soudan, the reader follows fascinated. Every
scene is strange, terrible, or dramatic. Yet, remarkable as are the
scenes, the actor is the more extraordinary; a type without comparison
in modern times and with few likenesses in history. Rare and precious
is the truly disinterested man. Potentates of many lands and different
degree--the Emperor of China, the King of the Belgians, the Premier of
Cape Colony, the Khedive of Egypt--competed to secure his services.
The importance of his offices varied no less than their nature. One day
he was a subaltern of sappers; on another he commanded the Chinese army;
the next he directed an orphanage; or was Governor-General of the Soudan,
with supreme powers of life and death and peace and war; or served as
private secretary to Lord Ripon. But in whatever capacity he laboured
he was true to his reputation. Whether he is portrayed bitterly
criticising to Graham the tactics of the assault on the Redan; or
pulling the head of Lar Wang from under his bedstead and waving it in
paroxysms of indignation before the astonished eyes of Sir Halliday
Macartney; or riding alone into the camp of the rebel Suliman and
receiving the respectful salutes of those who had meant to kill him;
or telling the Khedive Ismail that he 'must have the whole Soudan to
govern'; or reducing his salary to half the regulation amount because
'he thought it was too much'; or ruling a country as large as Europe;
or collecting facts for Lord Ripon's rhetorical efforts--we perceive a
man careless alike of the frowns of men or the smiles of women, of life
or comfort, wealth or fame.

It was a pity that one, thus gloriously free from the ordinary
restraining influences of human society, should have found in his own
character so little mental ballast. His moods were capricious and
uncertain, his passions violent, his impulses sudden and inconsistent.
The mortal enemy of the morning had become a trusted ally before the
night. The friend he loved to-day he loathed to-morrow. Scheme after
scheme formed in his fertile brain, and jostled confusingly together.
All in succession were pressed with enthusiasm. All at times were
rejected with disdain. A temperament naturally neurotic had been
aggravated by an acquired habit of smoking; and the General carried this
to so great an extreme that he was rarely seen without a cigarette. His
virtues are famous among men; his daring and resource might turn the
tide or war; his energy would have animated a whole people; his
achievements are upon record; but it must also be set down that few more
uncertain and impracticable forces than Gordon have ever been introduced
into administration and diplomacy.

Although the Egyptian Government might loudly proclaim their detestation
of slavery, their behaviour in the Soudan was viewed with suspicion by
the European Powers, and particularly by Great Britain. To vindicate his
sincerity the Khedive Ismail in 1874 appointed Gordon to be Governor of
the Equatorial Province in succession to Sir Samuel Baker. The name of
the General was a sufficient guarantee that the slave trade was being
earnestly attacked. The Khedive would gladly have stopped at the
guarantee, and satisfied the world without disturbing 'vested interests.'
But the mission, which may have been originally instituted as a pretence,
soon became in Gordon's energetic hands very real. Circumstances,
moreover, soon enlisted the sympathies of the Egyptian Government on the
side of their zealous agent. The slave dealers had committed every
variety of atrocity for which the most odious traffic in the world
afforded occasion; but when, under the leadership of Zubehr Rahamna,
they refused to pay their annual tribute, it was felt in Cairo that
their crimes had cried aloud for chastisement.

Zubehr is sufficiently described when it has been said that he was
the most notorious slave dealer Africa has ever produced. His infamy had
spread beyond the limits of the continent which was the scene of his
exploits to the distant nations of the north and west. In reality, his
rule was a distinct advance on the anarchy which had preceded it, and
certainly he was no worse than others of his vile trade. His scale of
business was, however, more extended. What William Whiteley was in
respect of goods and chattels, that was Zubehr in respect of slaves--
a universal provider. Magnitude lends a certain grandeur to crime; and
Zubehr in the height of his power, at the head of the slave merchants'
confederacy, might boast the retinue of a king and exercise authority
over wide regions and a powerful army.

As early as 1869 he was practically the independent ruler of the
Bahr-el-Ghazal. The Khedive resolved to assert his rights. A small
Egyptian force was sent to subdue the rebel slaver who not only
disgraced humanity but refused to pay tribute. Like most of the Khedivial
expeditions the troops under Bellal Bey met with ill-fortune. They came,
they saw, they ran away. Some, less speedy than the rest, fell on the
field of dishonour. The rebellion was open. Nevertheless it was the
Khedive who sought peace. Zubehr apologised for defeating the Viceregal
soldiers and remained supreme in the Bahr-el-Ghazal. Thence he planned
the conquest of Darfur, at that time an independent kingdom. The Egyptian
Government were glad to join with him in the enterprise. The man they had
been unable to conquer, they found it expedient to assist. The operations
were successful. The King of Darfur, who was distinguished no less for
his valour than for his folly, was killed. The whole country was subdued.
The whole population available after the battles became slaves. Zubehr
thus wielded a formidable power. The Khedivial Government, thinking to
ensure his loyalty, created him a Pasha--a rank which he could scarcely
disgrace; and the authority of the rebel was thus unwillingly recognised
by the ruler. Such was the situation when Gordon first came to the Soudan.

It was beyond the power of the new Governor of the Equatorial Province
at once to destroy the slave-hunting confederacy. Yet he struck heavy
blows at the slave trade, and when in 1877, after a short visit to
England, he returned to the Soudan as Governor-General and with absolute
power, he assailed it with redoubled energy. Fortune assisted his efforts,
for the able Zubehr was enticed to Cairo, and, once there, the Government
refused to allow their faithful ally and distinguished guest to go back
to his happy-hunting grounds. Although the slave dealers were thus robbed
of their great leader, they were still strong, and Zubehr's son, the brave
Suliman, found a considerable following. Furious at his father's captivity,
and alarmed lest his own should follow, he meditated revolt. But the
Governor-General, mounted on a swift camel and attired in full uniform,
rode alone into the rebel camp and compelled the submission of its chiefs
before they could recover from their amazement. The confederacy was
severely shaken, and when, in the following year, Suliman again revolted,
the Egyptian troops under Gessi Pasha were able to disperse his forces and
induce him to surrender on terms. The terms were broken, and Suliman and
ten of his companions suffered death by shooting [von Slatin, Baron
Rudolf Karl. FIRE AND SWORD IN THE SOUDAN, p.28.] The league of the slave
dealers was thus destroyed.

Towards the end of 1879 Gordon left the Soudan. With short intervals
he had spent five busy years in its provinces. His energy had stirred the
country. He had struck at the root of the slave trade, he had attacked the
system of slavery, and, as slavery was the greatest institution in
the land, he had undermined the whole social system. Indignation had
stimulated his activity to an extraordinary degree. In a climate usually
fatal to Europeans he discharged the work of five officers. Careless of
his methods, he bought slaves himself, drilled them, and with the soldiers
thus formed pounced on the caravans of the hunters. Traversing the country
on a fleet dromedary--on which in a single year he is said to have covered
3,840 miles--he scattered justice and freedom among the astonished natives.
He fed the infirm, protected the weak, executed the wicked. To some he gave
actual help, to many freedom, to all new hopes and aspirations. Nor were
the tribes ungrateful. The fiercest savages and cannibals respected the
life of the strange white man. The women blessed him. He could ride unarmed
and alone where a brigade of soldiers dared not venture. But he was, as he
knew himself, the herald of the storm. Oppressed yet ferocious races had
learned that they had rights; the misery of the Soudanese was lessened, but
their knowledge had increased. The whole population was unsettled, and the
wheels of change began slowly to revolve; nor did they stop until they
had accomplished an enormous revolution.

The part played by the second force is more obscure. Few facts are so
encouraging to the student of human development as the desire, which most
men and all communities manifest at all times, to associate with their
actions at least the appearance of moral right. However distorted may be
their conceptions of virtue, however feeble their efforts to attain even
to their own ideals, it is a pleasing feature and a hopeful augury that
they should wish to be justified. No community embarks on a great
enterprise without fortifying itself with the belief that from some
points of view its motives are lofty and disinterested. It is an
involuntary tribute, the humble tribute of imperfect beings, to the
eternal temples of Truth and Beauty. The sufferings of a people or a
class may be intolerable, but before they will take up arms and risk
their lives some unselfish and impersonal spirit must animate them.
In countries where there is education and mental activity or refinement,
this high motive is found in the pride of glorious traditions or in
a keen sympathy with surrounding misery. Ignorance deprives savage
nations of such incentives. Yet in the marvellous economy of nature this
very ignorance is a source of greater strength. It affords them the
mighty stimulus of fanaticism. The French Communists might plead that
they upheld the rights of man. The desert tribes proclaimed that they
fought for the glory of God. But although the force of fanatical passion
is far greater than that exerted by any philosophical belief, its
sanction is just the same. It gives men something which they think is
sublime to fight for, and this serves them as an excuse for wars which
it is desirable to begin for totally different reasons. Fanaticism is
not a cause of war. It is the means which helps savage peoples to fight.
It is the spirit which enables them to combine--the great common object
before which all personal or tribal disputes become insignificant.
What the horn is to the rhinoceros, what the sting is to the wasp,
the Mohammedan faith was to the Arabs of the Soudan--a faculty
of offence or defence.

It was all this and no more. It was not the reason of the revolt.
It strengthened, it characterised, but it did not cause. ['I do not
believe that fanaticism exists as it used to do in the world, judging
from what I have seen in this so-called fanatic land. It is far more
a question of property, and is more like Communism under the flag
of religion.'--GENERAL GORDON'S JOURNALS AT KHARTOUM, bk.i. p.13.]
Those whose practice it is to regard their own nation as possessing a
monopoly of virtue and common-sense, are wont to ascribe every military
enterprise of savage peoples to fanaticism. They calmly ignore obvious
and legitimate motives. The most rational conduct is considered mad.
It has therefore been freely stated, and is to some extent believed,
that the revolt in the Soudan was entirely religious. If the worst
untruths are those that have some appearance of veracity, this impression
must be very false indeed. It is, perhaps, an historical fact that the
revolt of a large population has never been caused solely or even mainly
by religious enthusiasm.

The reasons which forced the peoples of the Soudan to revolt were
as strong as the defence which their oppressors could offer was feeble.
Looking at the question from a purely political standpoint, we may say
that upon the whole there exists no record of a better case for rebellion
than presented itself to the Soudanese. Their country was being ruined;
their property was plundered; their women were ravished; their liberties
were curtailed; even their lives were threatened. Aliens ruled the
inhabitants; the few oppressed the many; brave men were harried by cowards;
the weak compelled the strong. Here were sufficient reasons. Since any
armed movement against an established Government can be justified only by
success, strength is an important revolutionary virtue. It was a virtue
that the Arabs might boast. They were indeed far stronger than they,
their persecutors, or the outside world had yet learned. All were soon
to be enlightened.

The storm gathered and the waters rose. Three great waves impelled
the living tide against the tottering house founded on the desert sand.
The Arab suffered acutely from poverty, misgovernment, and oppression.
Infuriated, he looked up and perceived that the cause of all his miseries
was a weak and cowardly foreigner, a despicable 'Turk.' The antagonism
of races increased the hatred sprung from social evils. The moment was
at hand. Then, and not till then, the third wave came--the wave of
fanaticism, which, catching up and surmounting the other waves, covered
all the flood with its white foam, and, bearing on with the momentum of
the waters, beat in thunder against the weak house so that it fell;
and great was the fall thereof.

Down to the year 1881 there was no fanatical movement in the Soudan.
In their utter misery the hopeless inhabitants had neglected even the
practices of religion. They were nevertheless prepared for any enterprise,
however desperate, which might free them from the Egyptian yoke. All that
delayed them was the want of some leader who could combine the tribes
and restore their broken spirits, and in the summer of 1881 the leader
appeared. His subsequent career is within the limits of this account,
and since his life throws a strong light on the thoughts and habits
of the Arabs of the Soudan it may be worth while to trace it from
the beginning.

The man who was the proximate cause of the River War was born
by the banks of the Nile, not very far from Dongola. His family were
poor and of no account in the province. But as the Prophet had claimed
a royal descent, and as a Sacred Example was sprung from David's line,
Mohammed Ahmed asserted that he was of the 'Ashraf,'(descendants of
the Prophet) and the assertion, since it cannot be disproved, may be
accepted. His father was a humble priest; yet he contrived to give his
son some education in the practices of religion, the principles of
the Koran, and the art of writing. Then he died at Kerreri while on
a journey to Khartoum, and left the future Mahdi, still a child,
to the mercies of the world. Solitary trees, if they grow at all,
grow strong; and a boy deprived of a father's care often develops,
if he escape the perils of youth, an independence and vigour of thought
which may restore in after life the heavy loss of early days. It was so
with Mohammed Ahmed. He looked around for an occupation and subsistence.
A large proportion of the population of religious countries pass their
lives at leisure, supported by the patient labour of the devout. The
young man determined to follow the profession for which he felt
his talents suited, and which would afford him the widest scope.
He became a priest. Many of the religious teachers of heathen and other
countries are devoid of enthusiasm and turn their attention to the
next world because doing so affords them an easy living in this.
Happily this is not true of all. It was not true of Mohammed. Even at
an early age he manifested a zeal for God's service, and displayed a
peculiar aptitude for learning the tenets and dogmas of the Mohammedan
belief. So promising a pupil did not long lack a master in a country
where intelligence and enthusiasm were scarce. His aspirations growing
with his years and knowledge, he journeyed to Khartoum as soon as his
religious education was completed, and became a disciple of the renowned
and holy Sheikh, Mohammed Sherif.

His devotion to his superior, to his studies and to the practice
of austerities, and a strange personal influence he was already
beginning to show, won him by degrees a few disciples of his own:
and with them he retired to the island of Abba. Here by the waters of
the White Nile Mohammed Ahmed lived for several years. His two brothers,
who were boat-builders in the neighbourhood, supported him by their
industry. But it must have been an easy burden, for we read that he
'hollowed out for himself a cave in the mud bank, and lived in almost
entire seclusion, fasting often for days, and occasionally paying a visit
to the head of the order to assure him of his devotion and obedience.'
[I take this passage from FIRE AND SWORD IN THE SOUDAN, by Slatin. His
account is the most graphic and trustworthy of all known records of
the Mahdi. He had terrible opportunities of collecting information.
I have followed his version (chapter iv.) very closely on this subject.]
Meanwhile his sanctity increased, and the labour and charity of the
brothers were assisted by the alms of godly travellers on the river.

This virtuous and frugal existence was disturbed and terminated
by an untoward event. The renowned and holy Sheikh made a feast to
celebrate the circumcision of his sons. That the merriment of the
auspicious occasion and the entertainment of the guests might be
increased, Sherif, according to the lax practice of the time,
granted a dispensation from any sins committed during the festivities,
and proclaimed in God's name the suspension of the rules against singing
and dancing by which the religious orders were bound. The ascetic
of Abba island did not join in these seemingly innocent dissipations.
With the recklessness of the reformer he protested against the
demoralisation of the age, and loudly affirmed the doctrine
that God alone could forgive sins. These things were speedily brought
to the ears of the renowned Sheikh, and in all the righteous indignation
that accompanies detected wrong-doing, he summoned Mohammed Ahmed
before him. The latter obeyed. He respected his superior. He was under
obligations to him. His ire had disappeared as soon as it had
been expressed. He submissively entreated forgiveness; but in vain.
Sherif felt that some sort of discipline must be maintained among
his flock. He had connived at disobedience to the divine law.
All the more must he uphold his own authority. Rising in anger,
he drove the presumptuous disciple from his presence with bitter words,
and expunged his name from the order of the elect.

Mohammed went home. He was greatly distressed. Yet his fortunes were
not ruined. His sanctity was still a valuable and, unless he chose
otherwise, an inalienable asset. The renowned Sheikh had a rival--nearly
as holy and more enterprising than himself. From him the young priest
might expect a warm welcome. Nevertheless he did not yet abandon his
former superior. Placing a heavy wooden collar on his neck, clad in
sackcloth and sprinkled with ashes, he again returned to his
spiritual leader, and in this penitential guise implored pardon. He was
ignominiously ejected. Nor did he venture to revisit the unforgiving
Sheikh. But it happened that in a few weeks Sherif had occasion to
journey to the island of Abba. His former disciple appeared suddenly
before him, still clad in sackcloth and defiled by ashes. Careless of
his plain misery, and unmoved by his loyalty, which was the more
remarkable since it was disinterested, the implacable Sheikh poured forth
a stream of invective. Among many insults, one went home: 'Be off,
you wretched Dongolawi.'

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