 CHAPTER II. THE FATE OF THE ENVOY. 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 toward brutality. Liberty leads to license. 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 course and are withered by the winter. It is only when we reflect that the decay gives birth to fresh life, and that new enthusiasm 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 Muhammad Ahmad 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 traitors, the racial element began to subside. The reason for its existence was removed. With the increasing disorders the social agitation dwindled, for communism presupposes wealth, and the wealth of the Sudan was greatly diminished. There remained only the fanatical fury which the belief in the divine mission of the Maudi 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 Maudi'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 modest power languished. But the invasion of the eastern Sudan by the British troops in the spring, and the necessary advance of their 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 Wulsley an attempt to bring them again under the yoke. The impulse which was given to the Maudi's cause was sufficient to raise a fierce opposition to the invading forces. The delay and the dispatch 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 characterized by fanaticism. But with this general reservation it may be said that the Arabs who destroyed Yousef, who assaulted El-Obiad, who annihilated Hicks, fought in the glory of religious zeal, that the Arabs who opposed Graham, Earl, and Stuart fought in defense 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 Klia, warriors at Omdamran. 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 Yousef Pasha decided the whole people of the Sudan 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 Khadiv'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 Sudan. They advised its abandonment. The protests of Sherif Pasha provoked Lord Granville to explain the meaning of the word advice. The Khadiv 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-Obaid, 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 Sudan was, however, as yet unbalested, 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 reorganizing the army. A British official supervised the finances. A British plenipotentiary advised the re-established Tufik. 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 Sudan, 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 dispatch is directed to breaking the connection between the two countries and winding up the severed strings. But responsibilities which have been lightly assumed clung like the shirt of Nessus. The ordinary practice of civilized nations demanded that some attempts should be made to justify interference by reorganization. The British government watched therefore with anxious solicitude the efforts of Egypt to evacuate the Sudan 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. Fourth with 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 Bering that as the movement in the Sudan 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 modism, who might perhaps restore the falling dominion of Egypt, who might at least save the garrisons of the Sudan. In their necessity and distress the cadavial 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, Zuber 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 Bering had declined General Gordon's services, he wrote, Whatever may be Zuber'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 Zuber Pasha's services. From Sir Evelyn Bering, Letter of December 9, 1883. It is certain that had the Egyptian government been a free agent, Zuber would have been sent to the Sudan as its sultan, and assisted by arms, money and perhaps by men, to make head against the Madi. It is probable that at this particular period the Madi 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 Zuber, and by so doing increased their obligation to suggest an alternative. Zuber 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 is 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 pass 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 Bering 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 clamored for the appointment. Had Bering refused to give way, it is probable that he would have been overruled. At length he yielded, and as soon as this consent had been obtained the government turned with delight to Gordon. On the seventeenth of January Lord Wulsley requested him to come to England. On the eighteenth 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 Kediv was very satisfactory. His complete authority was proclaimed to all the notables and natives of the Sudan, in the proclamation of the Kediv, January 26, 1884. He was assured of the support of the Egyptian government in a communication from Sir E. Bering to Major General Gordon, January 25, 1884. The London Foreign Office, having with becoming modesty admitted that they had not sufficient local knowledge, taken from Earl Granville to Sir E. Bering, January 22, 1884, accorded him whitest discretionary power. From Sir E. Bering 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 caroene authorities, whether English or Egyptian, to afford him all the support and cooperation in their power. Sir E. Bering to Major General Gordon, January 25, 1884. There is no sort of difference, wrote Sir E. Eveline Bering, between General Gordon's views and those entertained by New Barpasha and myself. Sir E. Bering to Earl Granville, February 1, 1884. Under these propitious auguries, the dismal and disastrous enterprise began. His task, no difficult and, as it ultimately proved, impossible, was clearly defined. You will bear in mind, wrote Sir Eveline Bering, that the main end to be pursued is the evacuation of the Sudan. The object of your mission to the Sudan, declared the Kediv, 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 organized government in the different provinces. Nor was he himself under any misconception. He drew up a memorandum when on board the Ten Jury, in which he fully acquiesced in the evacuation of the Sudan. 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 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 Sudan can escape the reflection, what a useless possession is this land? And Colonel Stewart, who accompanied him and endorsed the memorandum, added, 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 Kurosko to Abu Hamad, his interview with the Notables at Berber, or his proclamation of the abandonment of the Sudan, 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 recognized 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 air. 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 Sudan had risen against foreigners. His only troops were Sudanese. 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 Zubair Pasha. The whole story of his relations with Zubair is extremely characteristic. Zubair's son, Suleiman, had been executed, if not by Gordon's orders, at least during his administration of the Sudan 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 Bering, telling him that Zubair 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 Zubair was still in Egypt. Before starting up the river, he went to see Sharif Pasha. In the Ex-Minister's anti-room he met the very man he had determined to avoid, Zubair. He greeted him with a fusion. They had a long talk about the Sudan, after which Gordon hurried to the agency and informed Sir Evelyn Bering that Zubair must accompany him to Khartoum at once. Bering 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. Tomorrow 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 Zubair was necessary to save the situation in the Sudan. Gordon left Cairo still considering the matter. So soon as he made his formal demand from Khartoum for the assistance of Zubair 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 Bering 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 agents 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 Sudan. Nothing could exceed the vigor 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 refused Zubair, but it was the only chance. And again on the 8th. If you do not send Zubair, you have no chance of getting the garrisons away. I believe, since Sir Evelyn Bering in support of these telegrams, that General Gordon is quite right when he says that Zubair Pasha is the only possible man. Nubar is strongly in favour of him. Dr. Bondorf, the African traveller, fully confirms what General Gordon says of the influence of Zubair. The Pasha was vile, but indispensable. Her Majesty's government refused absolutely to have anything to do with Zubair. 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 Zubair Pasha been sent up when I asked for him, Berber would in all probability never have fallen, and one might have made a Sudan government in opposition to the Madi. We choose to refuse his coming up because of his antecedents in the 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. From Major General Gordon, Journals at Cartoon. But if the justice of the decision is doubtful, its consequences were obvious. Either the British government were concerned with the Sudan or they were not. If they were not, then they had no reason or right to prohibit the appointment of Zubair. 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 Sudan, had not raised the revolt or planted the garrisons, all that Egypt had a right to expect was commiseration. But the moment Zubair was prohibited, the situation was changed. The refusal to permit his employment was tantamount to an admission that affairs in the Sudan 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 Zubair, they bound themselves to rescue the garrisons peacefully if possible, forcibly if necessary. With their refusal to allow Zubair to go to the Sudan began the long and miserable disagreement between the government and their envoy. Puzzled and disturbed at the reception according to his first request, Gordon cast about for other expedience. Hida already stated that Zubair was the only chance, but it is the duty of subordinates to suggest other courses when those they recommend are rejected. And with a wholehearted 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 Maadi. 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 perform it 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 Zuber. Zuber 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 two hundred British troops might be sent to Berber. They were refused. He begged that a few might be sent to Aswan. One were sent. He proposed to visit the Mahdi himself and try to arrange matters with him personally. Perhaps he recognized 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. Bering, telegraphic, received a Cairo April 16. Such abandonment is, he declares, the climax of meanness. Ibid dispatched 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. Bering, Khartoum July 30, received a 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. Bering, telegraphic, Khartoum March 9. The government trusts that he will not resign. Earl Granville to Sir E. Bering, 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 Bering 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. Bering, telegraphic, received a 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 in treaty. Such are the chief features in the wretched business. Even the blue books and 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 Mohamed Ahmed and his caliphous. 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 block a 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 Sudan, where the next tragedy, after the defeat of Hicks, is laid. The Hadindoa tribe, infuriated by oppression and misgovernment, had joined the rebellion under the leadership of the celebrated, and perhaps immortal, Osman Dignan. 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 thirty-five hundred strong marched from Suikin in February 1884 to relieve Tokar under the command of General Baker, once the Gallant Colonel of the Tenth Hussars. Hard by the wells of Teb they were, on the fifth 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. Behring, February 6, official dispatch, telegraphic. The British and European officers in vain endeavored to rally them. The single Sudanese battalion fired impartially on Fran Den Faux. The general, with that unshaking courage and high military skill which had already on the Danube gained him a continental reputation, elected some fifteen hundred men, mostly unarmed, and so returned to Suikin. Ninety-six officers and twenty-two hundred fifty men were killed. Crop guns, machine guns, rifles, and a large supply of ammunition fell to the victorious Arabs. Success inflamed their ardor to the point of madness. The attack of the towns was pressed with redoubled vigor. The garrison of Sincat, eight hundred strong, sallied out and attempted to fight their way to Suikin. 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. Bering de Earl Granville, Cairo, February 23, a considerable military expedition consisting of one cavalry and two infantry brigades was sent to Suikin. 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 gendarmory. 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 three thousand Hadindoa and drove the rest in disorder from the ground. Four weeks later a second action was fought at Tamay. 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 twenty-four officers and one hundred sixty-eight men, Tamay, thirteen officers and two hundred and eight men. The effect of these operations was the dispersal of Asma-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 Sudan. By the discipline of their armies the government were triumphant. The tribes of the Red Sea sure 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 Zubair 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 that it 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 Sudan 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 Obayed to Khartoum. Sir Evelyn Bering 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 dispatch 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 Sudan, the Mahdi advanced slowly but steadily upon the town with the following variously estimated at from fifteen to twenty thousand men. On the seventh 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. Lieutenant Colonel Stewart to Sir E. Bering March 7, 1884. And on the eleventh Gordon himself reported, The rebels are four hours distant on the Blue Nile. Major General Gordon to Sir E. Bering March 11, 1884. Thereafter no more telegrams came, for on the fifteenth 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 seven thousand soldiers of inferior race, and by his courage have sustained the hearts of thirty thousand 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 three hundred and seventeen 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 one. 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 dispatched. Is weary by the impracticable Shiaiga Irregulars, takes interest in the turkey-cock in 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 Hussania, 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 installment of the journals was dispatched on the fourteenth 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. of the peculiarity and the sternness of Charles Gordon's character, his behaviour towards Slatton. This Austrian officer had been Governor of Darfur with the rank in the Egyptian service of Bay. 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. Slatton 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, Slatton 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 apostasy, 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 illusions to Slatton 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 étame jour, from the journals at Khartoum. He is suspicious of the circumstances of his surrender. The Greek says Slatton had four thousand Ardebs of Dura, fifteen hundred cows, and plenty of ammunition. He had 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, Slatton substituted an appeal to Gordon to countenance his escape. This is the uncompromising minute in the journals. October 16. The letters of Slatton have arrived. I have no remarks to make on them, 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 Slatton'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 jeopardize the safety of all these Europeans, prisoners with Mahdi. Slatton's position, it should be observed, was not that of an officer released on parole, but of a prisoner of war endurance, and 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 cartoom daily, and the general fully acquiesced in their doing so. As to Slatton's escape, affecting the treatment of the other European prisoners, it must be observed that when at various times escapes were affected from Omderman, and ultimately when Slatton 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 Customers of War, from attempting to regain his liberty. Nothing but his free and formal promise obtained in return for favors received can alienate that right. If the Madi chose to slaughter the remaining prisoners, the responsibility rested with the Madi. Slatton 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 dura, such as his given to horses and tools. Tidings of these things were carried to Gordon. Slatton, he observes icely, 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. But he needed Slatton. 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 Gessie, or Messigdalga, or Slatton, but I have no one to whom I could entrust expeditions. This was the man who would have employed Zuber and bowed to expediency, but Zuber had never denied his lord. The actual defense 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 Messier's 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 trustee's abordinate, 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 defense. 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 r-debs of grain were 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 in spirit 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 scrutinizing the defenses 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 could watch on tenterhooks, a combat which might be fatal to the defense, but which, since he could not direct it, 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 clamored 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 overall 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 anesthetic 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 the 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. From Lieutenant Colonel N. Neum 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 realization 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. Fourth with 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 whole. For those who served him faithfully he struck medals and presented them with pop and circumstance. Others less laudable he shot, and by all these means and expedience 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 Sudan, and their failure to establish the Suwak and Berber route. He proceeded to draw attention to the perilous position of General Gordon at Khartoum. Colonel Kurt Ligon 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? From Hansard's parliamentary debates, March 16, 1884. The government remained impassive. Lord E. Fitzmorris 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. After 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' Beaches' 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 Hardington, in winding up the debate throughout 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 vigor 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 dispatch 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 express 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 Sudan 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 honor 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 colored 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 honor abroad was driven to the Sudan by the cries of shame at home. Lord Hardington, 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 recognize the obligation which lay upon the Cabinet, and through the Cabinet upon the nation, and it was to his influence that the dispatch 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 Wadi Haifa and along the Nile. The new Camel Corps, consisting of four regiments, practiced 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 and boats was to work up the river. In case that should not arrive in time, the Camel Corps was to strike across the Bayouda Desert from Korti to Matema. Having arrived there, a small detachment was to be thrown into cartoom by Gordon's steamers to sustain the defense 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 upon 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 Montessier Desert. Yet their monotonous labors were encouraged by the knowledge that as soon as the bend of the river at Abu Hamid was reached, the strong north wind would carry them swiftly to cartoom. 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 it five times their former speed. The desert column started from Qorti on the thirtieth of December. Their strength did not exceed eleven hundred officers and men, but they were the flower of the army. Dropping their communications they set forth along the caravan route towards Matema. The knowledge which we have since gained of the resources of the modest 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 Clia. 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-core 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 Clia. 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 Amirs were detached from the army before Khartoum and marched northward eager for the slaughter of the enemies of God. At Matema the main strength of the Jailan tribe was collected. With reinforcements from Amderman, the total force of the Arabs actually at hand was not less than ten thousand, 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 Clia. The camel corps remained halted during the morning of the sixteenth 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 Clia and bivouacked. Early in 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 Sudan by British troops followed. Notwithstanding the numbers and the valor 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, ten 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 eighteenth 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 nineteenth. 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 denial was only four miles away, but the column was impeded by their wounded in 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 nineteenth, nine hundred men left the hastely-made Sariba and marched towards the river. Without their camels or those of the transport they appeared insignificant, a mere speck on the broad plain of Matema. 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 sand-hills. Here and there a gaudy flag waves defiantly. In front the green tops of the palm trees by the Nile tantalize, but stimulate the soldiers. On the left the great mud labyrinth of Matema 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. Amirs 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 reopened, 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 amours, 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 cartoom. He has explained why this delay was necessary to the satisfaction of most military critics. Nor is it easy to believe that men who have 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 in a few blue jackets set forth towards the Chebleucas Gorge and the town that lay beyond. On the twenty-seventh of January the rescuers came inside of cartoom and under the fire of the enemy. Many of their perilous adventures seemed to belong to romance rather than to reality. The tiny Jimcrack boats, struggling with the strong stream of the cataract, running the gauntlet of the Arab guns, dropping disconsolately down the river were their terrible news, or wrecked and stranded on the sandbank. Stuart Wortley rowing to the camp before Matema for help, Varys Ford starting in the remaining steamer, the bursting of the boiler by a dervish shell, Bembo mending it in a single day, Gordon's rescue, and the return to the entrenchment at Goobat. 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 shotholes and 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 Kliya and Abu Kruh impelled the Madi 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 valor of Islam, they might prevail. The Madi 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 a loud explosion of musketry broke the stillness of the night and the slumbers of the people and with the continual shouting, thousands of dervishes swarmed through the unprotected space and entered cartoom. 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 Maudi? 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 a 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 a 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 Maudi. 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. Orwalder went himself, the 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 color to the belief that, but for the three days delay at Matema, the catastrophe might have been averted. This view appears incorrect. The Arabs had long held Khartoum at their mercy. They hoped, indeed, to compel it surrender by famine and to avoid an assault, which after their experience at El Obaid they knew must cost them dear. Gordon has stated in his journals that the town became defenseless 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, Wolf and Olive, those who come after us must decide. We may, however, assert that he was a man of stainless honor and enduring courage, who in varied capacities displayed a fertile and abundant genius. He was careless alike of the honors 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 passerby, 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 among 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 Sudan, 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 in Matema were hurriedly dismantled. The camel-court, their extraordinary efforts futile and their camels killed, marched back on foot to Korty. 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 Kerbakan, were carried back swiftly by the strong current against which they had hopefully struggled. The whole expeditionary force, guards, highlenders, sailors, hasars, 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 Kasala 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-Obeyed, Darfur, Sobat, Tokar, Sincat, Senar, and Khartoum. The evacuation of the Sudan was thus completed.