Nor if the lower classes were thus effectually shut out from French influence were the better informed much less widely separated from them. Children fighting for garden plots and brass-headed nails!Ruskin might have written that parable to illustrate the aspect which French ambitions offered to the Ulema. Garden plots and brass-headed nails! Things useful and desirable in themselves, but not worth fighting for. "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!" that is for ever the song of the Ulema, and though with Pope they hold that "Not a vanity is given in vain," yet they will not admit that any given vanity is worth fighting for. They are ready enough to turn aside in Vanity Fair and to enjoy its vanities, but they never forget that they are vanities. As the old Arabic has it, "This world is a place of going, not a place of staying." Why, then, toil and moil for mere vanities that we must leave behind us? If we labour at all let it be for treasures, not vanities—treasures that once they are ours are ours for all time and all eternity, treasures that all the armies of all the Bonapartes and Sultans and Beys in the world cannot rob us of—deeds of charity and deeds of piety, kindly words and kindly acts, mercy and forgiveness.
This is the philosophy of the Egyptian and of the Eastern, as it is that of Christ Himself. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God and thy neighbour as thyself." Christian clergymen of all denominations teach it and preach it, Christian citizens profess it, Christian civilisation applauds—and ignores it. That most insignificant-looking of letters, the Greek iota, was sufficient to split the Christian Church in twain, but this philosophy has never caused a breath or whisper of dissent or discord. The Christian priest, the Moslem Sheikh, the Brahman Guru, the BuddhistLama, all are agreed in this, in the dogma, though not all in its application. The Eastern takes it very literally. The European looks upon it as a pretty ideal, good to be spoken of now and then, but having nothing whatever to do with the realities of actual life. Whence Plugson of Undershot, whom Carlyle places on a level with the Chactaw Indians, with, as I think, scant justice to the Chactaw, whose ideal is, or rather was, a higher one that Plugson's, seeing that Plugson has no higher ideal than his own individual interests, whereas the Chactaw always had the honour of his tribe in mind, and would, if need be, die for that very unsubstantial figment, whence it is evident that the Chactaw had in reality advanced towards the highest real civilisation a full stage further than has Plugson. For all true civilisation is, in spite of certain philosophers' opinions, the negation of individualism. The very lowest type of humanity is the man thinking, acting only for himself, like the brutes of the forest, knowing no ambition, no need, beyond his own individual wants or wishes. Such men as these are only possible in a "highly civilised" community, and will be found most abundantly in the most civilised and among the highest, or at least the wealthiest classes of these. Among mere savages, by a merciful provision of nature, such men wage such ruthless war with each other that it is well-nigh impossible for two to survive. But if these men exist in and are a product of civilisation, it is only as the scum floating on the surface of the molten metal, as base, as mean, and worthless as the dregs that lie at its bottom.
As to the Egyptian, neither a Plugson nor yet a Chactaw, he is rather to be compared to poor old Abbot Hugo, or some of his patient, faithful monks, striving in a certain halting, faltering, wholly incompetent, and yet withal more or less earnest way to do right—very prone, like Christian himself, to be tempted over the stile into the pleasant-looking byways of the road, and to start back at the sight of the lions at Mr. Interpreter's house, and yet, like Faithful, resolute enough to stand unabashed in the pillories of Vanity Fair and to face undaunted the terrors of the Valley of the Shadow. How could such men as these fall down and worship the golden calf of the French Republic? How could the French, whose farthest horizon was no further off than the short limits of "the average duration of life," comprehend the Egyptian?
The first brief fraternising of the two peoples had been as the momentary intermixing of water and oil suddenly thrown into a common receptacle; thereafter their inherent mutual repugnance inevitably drove them apart, and in the calm that followed the riot the separation became daily more and more complete. Hence it was that Gabarty and all his kind, while they could admire and wonder at the marvels the French showed them, and could and did appreciate much of the law, order, and good discipline they obeyed, yet, weighing these things in the balance of man's relations to the infinite as they conceived these to be, rejected them.
It is not to be supposed that the Egyptians measured in any such way as I have done thedifference between themselves and the French, or that they thought of, or were even aware of, the philosophy by which they were guided. They simply looked upon the French from a very simple, practical, everyday point of view, first as usurping foreigners, and secondly as men with a wholly unaccountable, extraordinary, and irrational conception of life and its needs; a people showing a strange indifference to that oldest and most indisputable of all truths—that man is mortal, and who, giving all their thoughts and energies to vain theories and ambitions, were hopelessly bewildered and befogged by their own cleverness, madly bartering true happiness for a brilliant but worthless imitation; a people the more mad and the more foolish that there was no need for them to make such an unprofitable trade. For in the French conception of civilisation and happiness there was little if anything absolutely irreconcilable with the Egyptian view. There was no reason why men should not profit to the utmost from all the arts, sciences, knowledge, or progress of any kind, but these things should be sought as the complement and completion of better things and not as the ultimate good, and they could be sought much better if the people were not worried by the endless forms and formalities, needless rules and regulations, and idle and burthensome restraints the French put upon them.
This was, and is, the Egyptian's ideal of civilisation—not unlike that of Carlyle and Ruskin: civilisation as a means and not as an end—an ideal of which we at home seem at last to be getting a faint, glimmeringperception, as evidenced by the victory of the "living wage" verity over the "supply and demand" falsity—a victory whereby English civilisation has been advanced a long step towards the Egyptian and Islamic ideal for which the rabbit-brained "smart set" and other puerilities and senilities have so much contempt. Unfortunately the Egyptian fails to see the duty that his ideal imposes upon him, and thus only too well justifies the criticisms of those who take the imperfections of the man as those of his ideals. They did not, and they as yet do not, clearly see that however high and noble a man's ideal may be, it is useless and vain unless it be converted into action. The best of seed kept in a glass case for men to admire is but an unprofitable perfection. That it may be prolific, beneficial to men, it is needful to take it from its case and plant it in the soil to grow. So with our ideals—however perfect, however beautiful, they are worthless unless planted in the soil of that strenuous effort President Roosevelt has so rightly lauded. Perhaps some day, when Englishmen in general begin to see these things more clearly, when we begin to understand that after all the swelling of the budget and the filling of our individual pockets are not the highest, nor indeed high aims at all, when we can openly accept and act upon the creed of Burns, that "the rank is but the guinea's stamp," then perhaps we may be able to help the Egyptian also to a higher and purer conception of true civilisation. At present, not possessing that article, it is scarcely possible for us to transfer it to or share it with the Egyptian or any one else.
The months succeeding the suppression of the revolt were months of peace though scarcely of honour, and certainly not of content. The people were no longer harassed by daily innovations or angered by daily arrests and executions, and looking forward to the early coming of a Turkish army as certain to sooner or later bring them relief, they submitted passively to the presence of the French. The Dewan, which had been suspended from the time of the revolt, was at the end of the year re-formed, and Bonaparte took the opportunity to issue a proclamation in which he had the foolish arrogance to claim to be inspired. This, addressed to Mahomedans, was a gross mistake, and is yet another proof of his inability to learn from experience or to comprehend the task he was so blunderingly pursuing. The Egyptians received the proclamation with the ridicule it deserved, but they were careful to keep their opinion of it to themselves, having learned very thoroughly the exact value of the "liberty, equality, and fraternity" of which they had heard so much, and knew perfectly well that "liberty" mustby no means be taken to include the liberty of criticising the French. As to "equality," Bonaparte did certainly show some impartiality—at all events in matters not directly affecting the French. Thus some native Christians, who had been too bold in availing themselves of their new-found liberty to insult the Moslems, were summarily punished, not so much probably for the offence as to discourage their provoking reprisals from which the French might suffer. Some soldiers too, who had been captured after raiding the house of a Moslem and outraging the women in it, were executed, this being a serious offence against discipline. These matters were referred to by the General in his proclamation as evidence of his friendship for and desire to do justice to the people. But the people put their own construction upon these acts and his allusion to them. The whole tenor of the system under which they were so unwillingly living was, in their opinion, utterly opposed to justice and reason, and they could not bring themselves to conceive these incidents as anything more than mere concessions made to mislead them. They had always been accustomed to receive in their private affairs a certain amount of justice under the Beys. This was indeed usually of a very rough and ready kind. Thus one of the Beys one day passing through the town meeting a citizen who had just bought some meat from a butcher in the market, took it into his head to see whether the seller had given his customer full weight, and finding that he had not done so at once ordered the deficiency to be supplied from the butcher'sown body. French justice was less fantastic and impulsive than this, whether it was more effective is not so certain, but it had to the Egyptian mind the great defect of being in general less amenable to the pleadings of mercy, and was, like the Beys', so often misdirected as to become injustice. Thus Bonaparte gained but little from his good intentions in this respect. As to "Fraternity," the cannon of the revolt had been the stormy requiem of all possibility of that. The battered houses of the town were infinitely more eloquent to the people than all that Bonaparte could say, and he could have but little assistance in preaching or enforcing his ideas on this subject, for the French generally, though quite loyal, were scarcely enthusiastic in their efforts to realise his wishes in this direction, and could in any case do but little, while the native Christians who could have done much, unable to rise above the pettiness of their own vindictive feelings, so far from seeking to promote friendship between the French and the Moslems, lost no opportunity of exciting the one against the other. So poor Fraternity lay neglected in the tomb that Bonaparte's blundering had so speedily and so unnecessarily dug for it.
All through the occupation the worst friends that the French had were the Christians of the country. Divided among themselves, they were at one, though not united, in the feelings with which they quickly learned to regard the French. There was no open disunion nor apparent discord, but the bitterness of sectarian animosities that prevailed among themwas of the keenest. The Franks being Christians of the "Orthodox" or Greek Church held the Copts as heretics, and these looked upon those as infidels. Nor were they less divided by their political and social ideas and habits, and, as such rival sects always are, were more strongly moved by their mutual distrust than by their common Christianity. This, indeed, served them as a bond only for evil in their common hatred for the Moslems. These, though they had for centuries to endure more oppression, injustice, and tyranny than either of the two Christian peoples had ever suffered from, were conscious of and showed a dignity and self-respect that was galling and offensive to the others. Our friends the historians lose no opportunity of condemning the Moslems for this characteristic, denouncing it as "arrogant pride," "fanatical conceit," and I know not what else. But though the Moslem too often renders himself liable to criticism on this point, his fault in no way abrogates the truth that the self-respect that is in varying degrees the birthright of all men is to him alone justified by his religion, for Islam alone of all religions, while teaching the frailty of man's nature, teaches also the doctrine that man is naturally inclined to good, and that his sins and his follies are the result not of a corrupt nature but of ignorance and false teaching—a nobler and truer conception than the degrading superstition that it is their nature to do evil. The Moslem, unlike those Methodists whose sole anxiety in life is for the salvation of their own miserable souls, has no salvation to seek. As a Moslem he is assured of eternal happiness. It isinevitable, therefore, that he should respect himself, even as the Christian who has but a jot of belief in the teaching of his religion cannot look upon himself as other than a "child of wrath," by nature evil and a lover of evil. Truly a grovelling, debasing creed. And it is with creeds as with ideals. That they should influence the whole life and nature of a man it is by no means necessary that he should be conscious of their influence, much less that he should analyse or even be capable of analysing it. Whence no degradation, no tyranny, no misery can deprive the Moslem of the self-respect that is his inheritance—a self-respect no other religion permits, and one that no follower of any other religion can by any possibility enjoy, since he who has it must be a believer in the essential doctrines of Islam and thus, though he know it not, a Moslem. This is an essential difference that must for ever hold all Moslem peoples apart from all others. I have shown already how not the Moslem only, but all Easterns measure life by a standard irreconcilable with that of the European, and when we put the influence of these two causes together we get a current of thought, native to the Moslem wherever he is found, no outside influence or power can stem or divert. And this being so, apart from all considerations of their respective political relations, it is evident that the Moslems and Christians of Egypt as of other countries could not be otherwise than opposed to each other, and that the very causes that made them so served to sever both alike from the French. As Orientals the native Christians had, in spite of their differences, many thoughts and many habitsand customs that they shared with the Moslems, but which were wholly unacceptable to the French. Nor were the French less disappointed by the attitude of the Moslems to them than were the Christians by that of the French towards them. They had expected from the French a preference they did not get, and a patronage that was withheld, while the openly professed friendship of Bonaparte for the Moslems and their religion was to them the act of a traitor and a renegade, and none the less so that they, like the Moslems, were by no means misled as to the real nature of the friendship or of its object.
Great as was the hatred of the Christians for the Moslems it was not, as we have seen, sufficient to prevent their joining these in their protest against a French reform that touched their own prejudices; but though that incident might have taught them that it would be to their own interests to conciliate Moslem feeling, so far from attempting anything of the kind they hastened to avail themselves of the collapse of the revolt to indulge in language and acts offensive to the Mahomedans. Believing that the permanency of French rule was now assured, they abandoned all the restraints they had been compelled to submit to in the time of the Beys, and which they had been more or less chary of neglecting under the early pro-Moslem policy of their successors. Having suffered but little from the event that had proved so disastrous to the Moslems, they had ample funds to enable them to follow their own inclinations, and, throwing aside the simplecostumes and habits prescribed for them by the old law, went abroad clad in gold-embroidered garments, carrying weapons and mounted upon horses—all luxuries that had long been forbidden to them—and did not fail to flaunt their new-born liberty in the eyes of the Moslems, and openly exult in the discomfiture that had overtaken these.
Meanwhile a party of the French army was in constant pursuit of the fugitive Mamaluks, and small parties were being sent from Cairo to punish raiding Bedouins or villages that obstinately refused to pay the taxes imposed upon them. These latter always returned to Cairo with such booty of flocks and herds and other property as they had been able to obtain, all of which was appropriated to the use of the French. However excusable or even necessary this continuation of military operations may have been, it had a most disastrous effect upon the trade and commerce of the country. The small foreign trade that the country still possessed at the time of the invasion had ceased altogether, and the disturbed condition of the country had been almost equally fatal to local trade. Communications between Cairo and distant towns, even Alexandria and Damietta, were rare and uncertain, and the attempts of the French to maintain a postal service between the scattered portions of the army had almost completely failed. As a consequence of the general disorder thus prevailing, the merchants and dealers of Cairo suffered so heavily that large numbers of them were reduced to indigency and compelled to seek a livelihood by any means that offered. Some who had contrived to save a smallamount from the wreck of their business opened restaurants or coffee-houses, or took to the sale of fruits and cakes and other small articles that were in demand among the French, while yet others gained a living by hiring the donkeys they had once themselves ridden in state to the soldiers, who had taken to donkey-riding and racing as one of their chief amusements.
The approach of the second year of the occupation brought no change in the condition of affairs, but rumours of the coming of a Turkish army were growing not only more frequent but more consistent, and Bonaparte, believing that it would be better for him to assume the offensive than to await an attack, began to hasten the carrying out of preparations for the conquest of Syria. The prospect of active service was hailed with pleasure by the troops, but the native Christians were dismayed at the idea of any large body of the French army leaving the immediate vicinity of the town, fearing that the Moslems would seize the opportunity to avenge themselves for the insults and injuries they had been bearing at their hands. Urged by this fear and with the idea of inducing Bonaparte to postpone his departure if not to abandon it altogether, some Syrians went to him and told him that the Moslems were preparing a new revolt. Fortunately for the Moslems these mischief-makers, in the excess of their cunning and anxiety to influence the French, gave a number of alleged details which Bonaparte at once saw afforded him a possibility of testing the truth of the information given. Some precautions were taken, but it was soonevident that the Moslems had no intention whatever of modifying in any way the pacific attitude they had assumed. Enraged at the attempt to mislead him, Bonaparte not only had the offenders arrested but issued an order that all the Syrians in the town were to resume the distinctive costume and be subjected to the other restrictions that had formerly been imposed upon them by the Beys. The annual fast of the month of Ramadan, during which the Moslems abstain from eating, drinking, and smoking from early dawn until sunset, beginning about this time, a proclamation was issued forbidding all non-Moslems to eat, drink, or smoke in the streets, or in sight of those who were fasting, and a Christian who was caught smoking was promptly arrested and bastinadoed. These and other concessions that were made to Moslem sentiment were not altogether unappreciated by them, but coming as they did at a time when, as they were well aware, the French had more than usual interest in gaining their goodwill, they could not but regard these things as the husks of the corn that the French were to eat, and saw, therefore, but little reason to be grateful for them, but they at least returned them in kind by according the French the passive submission they were so anxious for, and so, satisfied by the conduct of the people that he could safely withdraw the bulk of his army, Bonaparte started for Syria.
With the story of this ill-fated expedition we have nothing to do, for though usually given at great length in the histories of the country it forms no part of its history, the Egyptians having no further interestin it than that arising from their sympathy with the people attacked. They heard with pleasure of the difficulties and privations the army had to encounter and endure, with regret of its successes, and with sincere rejoicing of its ultimate discomfiture. It was in vain that Bonaparte sent them the most rose-coloured reports; no one accepted or believed them. The cold-blooded butchery of six thousand disarmed prisoners at Jaffa was an incident of the expedition which historians in vain try to gloss over or excuse, but with all the fawning fallacies with which they seek to save the honour of their hero, the massacre was one of the most brutal and inexcusable atrocities of all those that sully the pages of history. No sophisms can defend it, for not only was there not the slightest ground for a plea of justification, but the measure was a stupid and impolitic blunder. The soldiers, we are told, carried out their revolting task of shooting down the bound and helpless victims with the greatest reluctance. It was a notable example of the power of discipline, the immediate, unquestioning obedience of the soldier; but such discipline as this! When we think of the men on the fast-sinkingBirkenheadfalling into rank and standing to order as the doomed vessel made her final plunge one feels that discipline may be great and glorious—but the discipline that stained the sands of Jaffa with the blood of six thousand unarmed, pinioned men!
Meanwhile the Ramadan having come to an end, the people of Cairo celebrated the Eed, or feast with which they return to the ordinary routine of life, in much the same way but with much less feasting andrejoicing than usual. According to the regular custom in all Mahomedan towns and villages, the people assembled on the first day of the feast to celebrate it with special prayers and thanksgivings, and we get a curious insight into their manner of regarding the ceremonies of their religion from an incident that occurred on this occasion. By some strange forgetfulness the Imam, or official leader of the prayers, omitted to recite the Fatiha, the prayer which is in Islam that which the "Lord's Prayer" is in the Christian Church, with the addition that it is always recited as the opening prayer whenever and wherever Moslems worship. Under all ordinary circumstances the Moslem idea of propriety in a mosque or place of prayer is such as prevails in the churches of Europe, but the reverent attention that is customarily given to the Imam will not stand any great strain and so, reminded by a storm of protests from the thousands of worshippers present, the Imam on this occasion had to recommence the service! Let the reader try and imagine the congregation at some great festival in St. Paul's or St. Peter's roaring at his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, or his Holiness the Pope that he had omitted the collect for the day, and peremptorily ordering him to recommence the service!
Two months later, in May, 1799, the great Eed, or day of sacrifice, was kept, but in this as in all things the shadow of the French occupation overhung the people and embittered their feelings. Sheep, which for several reasons are the animals generally chosen for sacrifice, could not be had, partly because theflocks of the neighbouring villages had been almost wholly consumed by the French and partly because the restless condition of the country prevented those of more distant places being sent into the town. So the salvos of artillery with which according to custom the occasion was celebrated were listened to by the people but failed to awaken the usual enthusiasm, and, fired as they were by the unorthodox hands of the French gunners, were to the Moslems little better than a mockery.
Early in the year when the plague had first appeared rigorous police regulations had been issued for the protection of the French, who suffered from the dread of epidemics so universal in Christian Europe, but which, as readers of Kinglake's "Eothen" will remember, so slightly disturb the Oriental mind. As the year had advanced the plague had shown no signs of disappearing, and new and more stringent orders were issued in the hope of restricting it. Dire penalties were therefore imposed for concealing a case or a death, or for neglecting the prescribed sanitary precautions, and some idea of the frantic terror that possessed the compilers of these regulations may be gathered from the fact that death was the punishment proclaimed for any one sick of the plague who should dare enter any other house than his own dwelling.
Thus the first year of the French occupation and the year of the Moslem calendar came to an end within a few days of each other, and Gabarty winds up his long and yet all too brief record of the woes and tribulations of the twelve months by saying thatit had been full of "unheard-of events, the most important being that the people of Egypt had been unable to make the pilgrimage to Mecca!"
A very notable conclusion of the year's story—a conclusion that tells us much of the people and their most extraordinary and irrational way, as you no doubt think it, of looking upon the affairs of life. The coming of the French, the terrible sufferings of the panic-stricken town, the gathering of that wild storm of revolt, its bursting, collapse, the long-delayed hope of relief, the daily outraging of the most cherished prejudices of the people—all these, the great flood of evil and sorrow that was the one recollection of that miserable time for all the people—all this was of less importance than the fact that a few hundred individuals had been unable to perform the dangerous journey to Mecca!
Death, want, misfortune and misery of every kind had filled the record of the year for one and all of the people, but this one thing in which but a few of them only could have any direct personal interest, this was "the most important event of the year!"
Is it any wonder that the people refused to fall down and worship the golden calf of the French Republic that Bonaparte and his Staff were so vainly trying to exalt!
That the reader may the more justly appreciate Gabarty's comment on the history of the year he must recall two facts with reference to the composition of his history—first that it was written at the time. It is not a record compiled in after years when the feelings, emotions, and thoughts of themoment had been forgotten or blurred, It was rather a diary scribbled down from day to day, and one written, too, with no special object other than that of recording the principal occurrences of the time. A mere narrative, not written in support of a theory, nor as a study of men or things, nor as a text for the exposition of the author's views, but simply in the plainest and most literal sense a mere narrative. Secondly, it is not as an opinion but as a fact that he puts this failure of the pilgrimage down as the most important event of that disastrous year. And he puts it down as a fact in terms that show clearly that he believes that as a matter of opinion it is one no one who may ever read his history will for a moment think of questioning or doubting in any way.
If the reader can by any possibility bring himself to comprehend in the faintest degree the true purport of this summing up of the year's history he will have got a long, a very long, way on the road to a clear comprehension of the Egyptian as he was in 1798, and as he still is.
It may help the reader somewhat to form some idea of his own on this subject if I turn aside for a moment to tell him what this pilgrimage to Mecca is, and how it is regarded by the Moslems of Egypt and other countries.
Itself surrounded by the hills of the desert district of the Hegaz, the city of Mecca has grown around and encircles a great rectangular open but cloister-bounded space, in the centre of which rises a flat-roofed building occupying a mere spot in thevast courtyard, and which, but for its height, might be termed a cube, clothed on all sides by a hanging cloth of the deepest black, relieved only by a band of Arabic lettering wrought in gold. Nature herself has produced no more impressive sight than that presented by this small building thus strangely garbed and hid away in the wastes of the desert. In size, in form, in all things save its sable garment gently swaying to the slightest breeze, the building is one that would never draw from the stranger a second glance, but as it is, once seen it dwells upon the mind for ever with a vividness of detail no other sight can produce. This is theBeit Allah, the "House of God" of Islam, first erected, as Moslem tradition relates, by the Prophet Abrahim, and ever since a place of pilgrimage for all true worshippers of God. Hither while yet Christianity and Islam were yet unknown, in the "days of ignorance," when the Arabs still worshipped idols of stone, they came from all parts of the Arab-speaking world as pilgrims, counting all the many dangers of the road as nought compared to the rich rewards awaiting in the future those who should accomplish this duty. Enjoined upon the Moslems as one of the five great obligations of their creed, the pilgrimage to-day draws Moslems from the most distant parts of the world by long and tedious journeys through the wildest and least-civilised parts of the earth, heedless of dangers and difficulties, counting it a gain to suffer by the way, and content to die once their eyes have fallen upon the sacred building. And of all Moslems the Egyptian, and most especially the Cairene, hasa special and peculiar interest in the pilgrimage since it is the privilege of Cairo to supply from year to year the newKiswa, or clothing for theBeit Allah.
Here, then, we have a partial clue to the importance attached to the failure of the pilgrimage by the Cairenes, but, as I have said, the failure was one that directly affected but a few hundreds of the people—those who under more favourable circumstances would have taken part in the pilgrimage. But these, from the point of view of their own pilgrimage, would accept the impossibility of performing it in that year as a matter of destiny, and would have regarded the impoverishment of their resources caused by the endless exactions of the French as a greater evil, as one not only preventing their making the pilgrimage in that year, but possibly also in future years, since the expenses of the journey are such that to the ordinary pilgrim they are only to be met by the economy of years.
There was, therefore, some other reason why the failure of the pilgrimage should be looked upon as so great a calamity, and if the reader will recall the incident of the omitted prayer at the festival of the Eed, it may assist in guiding him to the solution of the problem, for in that incident we get an aid to the understanding of the Egyptian's attitude towards his religion and his interpretation of its duties. This and other matters that I have had occasion to speak of may perhaps enable the reader to understand at least this much—that this people has a standard of good and evil very different to his own, and that no scale of weal and woe that he could draw outwould be at all likely to commend itself to their acceptance. He who has grasped this fact will have gained a position from which he may hope to pursue his study of the Egyptians and their history, with at least one solid, indisputable fact to guide him—a fact that, almost impossible as one would think it to be, the ordinary historian of the country seems quite unable to realise. It is true that in so many set words or phrases they tell their readers that the Egyptian does not reason or think as other men do, but having said so much they describe and criticise their actions and thoughts without the least reference to this fundamental and controlling fact. Nor is it the historians alone who make this crass mistake. Men living in the country, nay, even those born and reared in it, and living in the closest intimacy with Egyptians, are no wiser, and hence, whenever Egyptian thought or opinion run counter to their own, they all agree in attributing the difference to "stupidity" or "fanaticism." And what is still less realised is that this difference is not limited to the Moslems, but is shared by the Christians of the country. Severed from each other as the Moslem and Eastern Christian are in thought and aspiration, they are, though not wholly one, strongly sympathetic in their estimates of European civilisation as it is commonly presented to them. The active effect of their sympathy is partly nullified by the interest the Christian has in seeing the predominant power in the hands of his coreligionists, and it was this interest, and this interest alone, and not any sympathy with French views or French ideals, that gained fromthe Christians of Egypt whatever of support they gave the French. In all books on the East it is tacitly assumed by the writers that were the East Christianised it would be in full sympathy with European thought. No greater error is conceivable. The Coptic or the Syrian clerk in the service of the Egyptian Government of to-day, compelled as he is by the official regulations, attends his office in European dress, but goes home to throw that off at the first possible moment to resume the garb of the country, the loose, flowing garments that good sense and experience alike tell him are not only the most comfortable but the most healthy in a climate such as that of Egypt. And as in this so in other things. Like the Moslem, he accepts many of the comforts and conventions of European life, but like him he rejects not a few of these that north of the Mediterranean are deemed indispensable.
These were things that the French did not and perhaps could not see. And there was yet another obstacle they had to surmount, but of the presence of which they seem to have been oblivious. The civilisation that the French wished to plant in Egypt had not been the growth of a day, but the fruit of centuries of slow and halting progress. Had it been possible for a foreign power to have attempted to introduce that civilisation into France, say in the ninth or tenth century, what manner of reception would it have had? Think you that the French people of that time would have hailed the innovations forced upon them with rapturous delight? that they would at once have appreciated everylittle detail, and hastened to abandon all their time-honoured habits and customs to adopt those of their new teachers? How did our Hereward the Wake look upon the innovations of the Norman Conqueror? Was it with an ecstasy of admiration that Gurth the swineherd thought of the Norman civilisation of his day? Was it enthusiasm for the benefits advancing civilisation was bestowing upon them that led the Luddites in their machine-wrecking riots? The parallels are not perfect I admit, yet there is in them a sufficient resemblance of circumstance and fact to justify the comparison, and more than enough to discredit the conclusions that so many authors have drawn from the attitude of the people of Egypt towards the French.
We have not reached the pleasant lands of our modern civilisation wafted by a gentle breeze on a smoothly gliding bark, but have won our way through storm and tempest by paths bedewed with blood and tears, and withal our progress has been less a striving for good than a flight from evil, and though we are not perhaps all sensible of it, our appreciation of our civilisation is largely our appreciation of our triumph over evils and difficulties. The ignorant and thoughtless, whether of the "Smart Set" or of the slums, do not see this. They and all of their class take life, as do their cats and dogs and the beasts of the field, as they find it. Yet he who can and will think must admit that it is so, and, admitting this, will see that in addition to the other causes that prevented the Egyptians accepting the French and their reforms there was this very important one, that they couldnot in any way appreciate them as reforms, seeing that they were not yet conscious of the existence of the evils they were intended to remedy. To the Egyptian, as I have said before, the life he had been living under the Mamaluks needed but little to make it perfect. Moderate taxation and the abolition of the erratic tyranny from which the people suffered were the two things wanted to make his life wholly desirable and pleasant. These evils, so far from being abolished by the French, were, in the opinion of the Egyptian, increased a hundredfold. And to these the French added a host of minor evils: worrying and wearisome regulations, cramping the liberty and freedom the people had always enjoyed, thwarting their natural instincts and burthening them with a sense of control they had never before experienced.
Again, I ask, what wonder was it that they did not fall down and worship the golden calf of the Republic?
It was the middle of June, 1799, before Bonaparte got back to Cairo from Syria. His prolonged siege of Acre had been an utter failure, and save for a little worthless loot the whole expedition had been but a sample of that which his whole life was to be—a selfish, reckless waste of human life, useless, unprofitable, and, in spite of the servile adulation it has had, entirely contemptible. That this man was personally brave, skilful in war, a clever general—in short, that he was a man of many abilities that, rightly exercised, would have entitled him to respect and admiration—is perfectly true, but it is not more true of him than of many that the world has rightly and properly agreed to class as criminals. Seeking nothing but his own gain, in this futile expedition he had sacrificed thousands of lives, wrecked hundreds of innocent homes. More than a third of his army had perished, including twelve hundred of his sick and wounded abandoned to the vengeance of the enemy for his own ruthless slaughter of his prisoners. Such is the great hero of modern civilisation!
But defeated and discomfited as he was, he enteredCairo in triumph with banners flying, drums beating, and all the rest of the idle fanfaronade and pompous puerilities associated with triumphal entries. Five long hours the grand procession occupied in passing through the city gates, and thenceforth for three days and nights his coming was celebrated with loud rejoicings and feastings, and the Egyptians looked on and even took such part in the hollow mockery as they were commanded to do, but they were in no way deceived; the gaunt skeleton of defeat and failure was clothed but not concealed by the gaudy glare of lying pretence.
So the "Great" Bonaparte paid honour to himself, heedless of the droning of the surges on St. Helena's distant shore.
A month later the long-expected Turkish army arrived by sea, and, landing at Abou Kir on the 14th of July, was besieged by the French under Bonaparte himself on the 25th. Although aided by Sir Sidney Smith, who was in command of a fleet that had already assisted in the defence of Acre, the Turks, defeated by starvation, had to yield on the 2nd of August.
The news of the arrival of the Turks had been received in Cairo with unbounded joy, though none but a few of the hot-headed lower classes had given any open expression to their feelings, but when Bonaparte returned to the city with a long file of Turkish prisoners the despondency of the people was overwhelming; yet, though it was felt by all to be a rebinding of the chains of their bondage, they gave no sign, and the life of the town went on in thelistless way that was becoming habitual to it. It was the easier for the people to bear this reverse that they by no means looked upon it as in any way a final one. The defeat of the Turks was but the defeat of a small force taken at great disadvantage, and one which they did not doubt was but the advance guard of an army against which the French could make no stand. Meanwhile, the period of the inundation having arrived, the rising of the Nile was celebrated by order, as it had been the year before, but this time with an abandon on the part of the Christians that gravely shocked Gabarty, who tells us that the eve of thefêtewas spent by them in boats on the river, or in the open along its banks, with feasting and drinking and women and music. "On this occasion," he writes, "they forgot their self-respect and cast modesty aside for indecency, raillery, impudence, and impiety. The pen refuses to paint the scandals of the night. Licence was carried to its extreme, and the dregs of the people, following the example set them, the debauchery and effrontery were without limit." All night the Bacchanalian festival was continued, the outrageous orgie ceasing only with the utter exhaustion of the degraded devotees of pleasure.
Some four days later Bonaparte gave a fresh proof of his greatness by deserting the army that had served him so faithfully, and, abandoning his dream of founding an Eastern Empire, hastened back to Europe to pursue with unabated enthusiasm his own selfish ambitions. His departure, like his coming and all his stay, was accompanied by the silly rigmarole of braggart falsehoods he was never tiredof issuing, and which deceived no one but himself. He was going, so he said, to open communications with France, and was to return in three months to exterminate "the enemies of order."
Under General Kleber, whom Bonaparte had named as his successor in the command of the French army, matters went smoothly enough, although he was less affable in his treatment of the natives than Bonaparte had been. He, like all the French, was heartily sick of the country, and longing for an opportunity of escaping from it. The first glamour of the occupation had long since passed away, and the dreary monotony of their lives, coupled with the debilitating effect of the climate, needed only the cowardly desertion of their chief to plunge the French into a state of deep despondency. The task entrusted to General Kleber was one, therefore, sufficient to try the ablest, and it was not lessened by the complete destruction of trade and commerce, the heavy expenses of the army, and the difficulty of dragging any further large supplies from the impoverished people. It is not surprising, therefore, that when the arrival of a Turkish army from Syria was announced, the General hastened to accept the offer of the English Admiral to give the French army a safe and honourable opportunity of retiring. A convention was signed by which it was agreed that the French were to evacuate the country within three months. This being promptly made known to the Egyptians, the people rejoiced openly and without restraint, the lower classes going so far as to insult and abuse the French to their faces, to the greatindignation of Gabarty, who does not fail to condemn their conduct not only as foolish but as unworthy of a self-respecting people. A few days later a Turkish officer arrived, and was received with rapturous acclamations. The day following the Vizier Yosuf, who was in command of the Turkish forces, issued his first orders to the people through the mouth of the officer they had thus cordially welcomed. Nothing could well be briefer or more explicit than these orders. They were but two in number, and were, first, that the people were to receive the officer in question as Chief of Customs, with the power of establishing monopolies of all food supplies; and secondly, the immediate raising of a sum of three thousand purses, to be paid to the French as a contribution towards the expenses of their evacuation of the country. "Thus," says the always candid Gabarty, "from the first moment the country had to suffer two evils at the hands of the Turks." But the tax levied was quickly collected, the people paying gladly to hasten the departure of the French. "Blessed be the day on which the infidel dogs quit us," was the cry raised, loudest of all by those who had most availed themselves of the presence of the French to indulge in a laxity of living offensive to all the better classes. Notwithstanding the reminder the people had so promptly received that the Turks, however much they were to be preferred to the French, were by no means lenient rulers, the rejoicings for their coming were universal among the Moslems, and though there were not a few of the more enlightened andsensible who were wise and bold enough to protest against the offensive treatment of the French, the current of popular feeling was too strong, and carried with it even men who had heretofore kept their heads. So once more the children of the schools were led by their masters through the streets, as they had been at the first arrival of the French, chanting songs in derision of, or of malediction on, the hated feringhees.
But if the Moslems were exultant, the Christians of the town were plunged in despondency and were keenly lamenting the folly that had led them to outrage Moslem sentiment in the manner they had done. Fearful that in the excited state of the people these would now seek to avenge the wanton insults that had been offered them, they withdrew from the streets and public places and hid in their houses, awaited in trembling fear the attack they anticipated would be made upon them. But the people were thinking of other things, and were too full of joy at the promise of their early escape from the bitter thraldom of the French to have a thought to spare for the minor grievances which they had endured from their Christian countrymen, and so these were left in peace.
Meanwhile small parties of the Turkish troops began to enter the town, and these, according to a pleasant custom that survives in the Turkish army up to the present day in outlying parts of the Empire, at once proceeded to constitute themselves partners in the commercial affairs of the people, without the aid of notaries or anything more than thevery simplest of procedures. Seating themselves on the mustabahs, or raised fronts of the shops that serve at once as seats for the customers and counters for the display of the shopman's goods, they simply waited until a customer arrived and then demanded from the shopkeeper a share of his profits, alleging, not always untruthfully, that they had assisted in the sale of the goods by praising their quality, cheapness, and so forth, and, when a customer appeared unconvinced, not unfrequently by threatening him with violence should he refuse to complete a purchase. Needless to say, customers and dealers alike soon learned to shun the transaction of business in the presence of these "partners." Complaints were made to the new Governor of the town, but the only satisfaction accorded to the indignant plaintiffs was that they ought to be pleased at the opportunity of contributing to the upkeep of the troops that had come to defend them from the French and free the country from their infidel rule.
Eager as the people were to be rid of the French, these were not less so to get away from a town that no longer had any charm for them, and was associated with so much of disappointment. The work, therefore, of preparing for the evacuation was carried on with goodwill, and the citadel and the forts around the town were handed over to the Turks, while the French assembled themselves in camps in and about the Esbekieh.
The three months allowed for the evacuation was drawing to a close when the folly of the British Government suddenly altered the whole position.The convention which Sir Sidney Smith had accorded the French had been drawn up on a thorough understanding of the actual facts with which he had to deal. Knowing well that it was entirely out of his power to dictate terms to the French, and realising how greatly it would be to the advantage of his own country that the French should retire, he had treated with Kleber rather as a friend than as an enemy. But the Government, with absolutely nothing to guide it but Sir Sidney's report, declined to listen to his advice or to accept the action he had taken, and ordered him to insist upon the French making an unconditional surrender. A wiser and stronger man than Sir Sidney would have ignored instructions so fatal to the honour and interests of his own country, and so gratuitously insulting to brave and honourable foes; but, to the great misfortune of all concerned, Sir Sidney had not the courage to do justice to himself, and so communicated the decision of the Government to General Kleber. The blow was a bitter one. Honourable as the convention he had accepted had been, it had demanded some sacrifice of pride on the part of the French to adopt it, and Kleber was perfectly justified in terming the demand now made "insolent." Thus the madness of our Government at the moment when the French were straining every nerve to leave the country, forced them to remain, and not only gave them fresh and good reason to detest us, but laid a train of anti-English feeling in Egypt that bears consequences prejudicial to English interests even to the present day.
Finding his hope of an early return to Europe thus shattered, Kleber took the only line of action open to him, and showed his ability as a general by immediately re-entering the forts around the city which the Turks, finding a residence in the town itself more in accordance with their ideas of comfort, had neglected to occupy. This done, he hastened to attack the Turkish army, which was encamped at Materiah, some five miles from the town, and taking it by surprise and wholly unprepared for action, believing itself in peaceful and unthreatened possession of the country, routed it with ease and without loss. This attack was naturally regarded as a most treacherous one by the Turks and Egyptians, for until the French had actually opened fire upon the Turks these had remained in careless security without the least suspicion that anything could occur to bring them into conflict with the French. But it is quite impossible to blame Kleber. For the French an early and complete victory was now a matter of life and death. To have given the Turks an opportunity of attacking them in the forts around Cairo would have been suicidal madness. With no possibility of relief they could only have held out against a siege until the sickness and famine that were bound to assail them should have accomplished the work of the enemy more effectually than its military strength could.
As the time fixed for the evacuation had approached the excitement in the town had increased, but when the French re-seized the forts and gave other proofs of a sudden activity in a new and, to theEgyptians, wholly inexplicable direction, rumours of the wildest kind were circulated. Of these the one that gained most credence was that the French had discovered it to be the intention of the Turks and the English to surround and massacre them while on their way to the coast. Utterly false as this report was, the outbreak of hostilities between the French and the Turks gave it such apparent verification, that there are not a few of the Egyptians who still believe it.
The Turkish army, utterly discomfited by the French, after having made but a poor defence, took the road towards Syria, with the exception of a part which, finding itself between the French and the town, decided to seek the shelter of the latter. With these were a number of Mamaluk Beys and their followers, who at the first news of the arrival of the Turks had hastened to join them. The Turks who thus entered the town were under the command of Nasooh Pacha, a bigot and fanatic of high rank but little ability. His arrival was greeted by the assembling of a crowd of all the worst characters of the town, who flocked after him as he made his way through the streets, anxious to learn the truth as to what had happened. His first act was to give a general but definite order for the massacre of all the Christians.
We have seen how at the last meeting of the Mamaluk Dewan, and again at Rosetta, proposals to massacre the Christians had been rejected. Now, however, there was no question of a proposal, but a distinct and definite order was given by a Pacha,a Turk, an orthodox Moslem, a high officer of the Empire, and one who at the moment carried with him all the weight of being the immediate representative of the Sultan and Caliph of Islam. Those of the people to whom the order was given were of the lowest and most ignorant class, precisely the one to which such an order might be expected to be welcome, people having nothing to risk but their personal safety, and thinking little of this as weighed against the prospect of a rich harvest of loot. A wild rush was made, therefore, for the Christian quarters of the town, the mob slaying on its way the few Christians who happened to be overtaken by it and unable to escape. Hastily barricading their doors and windows the Christians made a bold stand, and the mob, which was much more anxious to plunder the houses than to slaughter their inhabitants, devoted their unwelcome attentions to the least protected of these, and troubling nothing as to whether the houses attacked were those of Christians or Moslems, were busily engaged in their work of destruction when the quarters in which they were, were swept by Turkish troops, who, without staying to expostulate or explain, quickly routed the rioters with much heavier slaughter than these had been guilty of, and charging them, more ruthlessly and more effectively than they had charged the Christians, promptly restored order. This vigorous suppression of the riot and intended massacre was the work of Osman Agha, an officer of the Turkish army who, though of less degree than Nasooh Pacha, had no sooner heard of the riot than he protested not merely by word of mouth, but bythe more practical measure of despatching troops in hot haste with strict orders to spare none of the rioters that did not at once desist. Thus once more the Christians found Moslem protectors ready to defend them against Moslem foes. We shall see later on how the Christians showed their gratitude.
The riot having been thus promptly suppressed, the Turkish officers turned their attention to the defence of the town from the attack by the French, which they rightly judged would not long be delayed. A hurried survey of the available means of defence showed that these were of the poorest. Gunpowder and munitions of all kinds were deficient in quantity and defective in quality, but there was no thought of submission to the coming foe, and, directed by the troops, the people were set to work once more to barricade the entrances to the town. The memories of the sufferings that had accompanied and followed the great revolt against the French were still vivid in the minds of the people, but their enthusiasm was as great as it had been while yet the horrors of a siege were unknown to and undreamt of by them. Some of the Mamaluk chiefs, seeing how woefully the town was deficient in the things most urgently needed to enable it to make a stand, were anxious to withdraw, but neither the Turkish troops nor the people would consent to their doing so, and they had perforce to remain and take their part in the defence.
Fighting was commenced by an attack upon the house of Elfi Bey, in the Esbekieh quarter, which Bonaparte having chosen as his residence wasstill in the occupation of the French. One day's firing having exhausted the supply of cannon-ball, the defect was made good for the moment by charging the guns with metal weights collected from the shops in the bazaars, and such other missiles as could be found. Under the direction of Osman Agha, shot and powder factories were established, and all the craftsmen of the town whose skill could be applied to the manufacture of defensive arms or materials were put to work to provide what was needed, or the best substitute that could be improvised. Being unable to ascertain anything of the movements or intentions of the French, the chiefs decided that it was imperatively necessary to be ready for an assault upon the town at any moment. Orders were given, therefore, that all the townsmen as well as the troops were to take up positions behind or near the barricades, and were to remain on the spot day and night, sleeping as best they could at their posts.
For eight days the fighting was continued in this way, the firing being confined to the north-west end of the town, or that facing the position occupied by the French. On the eighth day the return of General Kleber, who had been in pursuit of the flying Turkish army, brought about a change. With the troops he had with him, and those already in garrison, he had a force quite equal to the siege of the town in regular form, and he lost no time in surrounding the two towns, Cairo and Boulac, as Gabarty expresses it, "as a bracelet encircles the arms." Thenceforth the siege wascarried on with vigour. Amply provided with arms and ammunition, the French poured a ceaseless hail of shot and shell upon the towns, not only from the forts around, but also from the heights of the Mokattam hills, which command the greater part of the city of Cairo.
For ten days and nights the siege and bombardment went on unceasingly. For ten days and nights the people and the troops were without any rest worthy of the name, and the long strain was beginning to tell upon their energies. To add to the horrors of the bombardment under which the buildings of the town were steadily crumbling away and filling the streets with their ruins, not only was death busy, but hunger and thirst were beginning to assail the living. Food was not only scarce, but what there was was ruthlessly appropriated by the Turkish troops, and the water was not only short but bad. Still, all ranks kept manfully to their task, and while the lower classes laboured cheerfully at what work there was for them to do, in clearing the streets of the wreckage that threatened to block them entirely, and in attending upon the troops, carrying ammunition to and fro as needed, and so on, the highest of the Turks and Egyptians moved constantly among them, encouraging them and bidding them hope for the best. Of the Christians many had escaped from the town to seek shelter with the French, in whose ultimate triumph they had the fullest and withal most justifiable confidence. Of those that remained in the town, not a few lent what aid they could toits defence, partly to conciliate the mob and partly no doubt in recognition of the protection given them by the leaders of the people, as evidence of their loyalty to the Sultan, and as the line of conduct most likely to conduce to their own interests. Many who under the Mamaluks had grown wealthy and under the French had escaped having to bear anything like their fair share of the burthens laid upon the people, now bid for popularity by contributing funds towards the defence. But the steadily growing weakness of their position, the exhaustion of the people and the troops, and the prospect of an utter failure of food and other supplies compelled the leaders to think of making terms with the French while they were yet in a position to profit from whatever concessions they could obtain. And the French knowing pretty well how things were going in the city, and having no desire for useless bloodshed, made repeated offers to treat. But the people would hear nothing of a surrender, and nothing of treating for terms. They had had enough of the French, and would have no more of them, if by any means, by any sacrifice, they could get rid of them. The Turkish Vizier with his army was sure to come to their relief soon, and perhaps the English, for were not the English the enemies of the French? And Mourad Bey with a large force of Mamaluks and troops was not far off, and he too must come sooner or later to their aid. So they would rather starve and thirst and suffer until help came; and besides, was it not evident that the French mustbe nearly exhausted? if not, why did they offer terms?
At last the chiefs took action for themselves, and a deputation of Sheikhs was sent out to the French headquarters to treat for terms.
Kleber received the deputation courteously, but reproached them for having taken the part of the Turks, and given these their aid and support. The Sheikhs very justly replied that they had but followed the advice he had himself given them when announcing the approaching departure of the French. Eventually it was agreed that there should be a truce of three days to enable the Turkish troops and all who cared to go with them to leave the town. "As to the people," said Kleber, "they have nothing to fear; are they not our people?" Full of hope and joy at the result of their mission, the Sheikhs returned to report what they believed would be accepted as good news by the famine-stricken garrison. But far from accepting the terms offered, the people insulted the Sheikhs and denounced them as traitors. "If," said they, "the Christian dogs were not at the end of their resources they would not be so ready to make peace." So fighting was resumed, and carried on on both sides with vigour until the 25th of April.
Boulac was the first to fall. A heavy thunderstorm had broken over the devoted towns, and torrents of rain had quickly converted their unpaved streets into quagmires, that rendered walking almost impossible. With abundance of skill andmaterial at their disposal, and in robust health and spirits, the French had every advantage over the famished, exhausted and undisciplined mob that had so long faced them at such desperate odds, yet it was but foot by foot only that they succeeded in forcing their way to victory through streets heaped with the bodies of the slain.
It was a heroic fight, that of this poor famine-pinched, undisciplined mob against the well-fed, well-clothed veterans of France. Strange that our friends the historians, who are always so impartial and free from bigotry and fanaticism, can see in this desperate defence nothing more than the contumacy of an ignorant and foolish people. Strange, for, after all, "how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of their gods?" For this in the very literal sense of the words was what these poor starving Egyptians were doing, it being not the least of their complaints against the French that these had desecrated the graveyards of the city, and defiled the temple in which they worshipped God.
A wild carnival of pillage and brutality followed the fall of the town, and then the troops that had been investing Boulac turned with revived appetite to assist in the siege of Cairo. There, as at Boulac, the scarcity of food and water, and the want of proper rest and shelter, had reduced the people to a condition that would have justified their abandoning the hopeless struggle without further effort; yet it was not the people, but theirchiefs—the Mamaluk Beys and the Turkish officers—men whose experience told them how unavailing the attempt to hold out must prove, that spoke or thought of treating with the foe. They had, as we have seen, already made an effort in that direction, now, finding the French gradually gaining ground, pushing their way slowly but surely into the town and, to add fresh terrors to those by which the unhappy defenders were almost overwhelmed, firing the houses as fast as they could reach them, the chiefs once more asked for terms, and were accorded three days in which to quit the town. Even then the people would have refused to yield, and it was with difficulty that their leaders at last forced from them a sullen and unwilling submission. Kleber, in addition to granting the Turks and Mamaluks three days within which to evacuate the town, undertook to supply funds and transport to enable them to go, but demanded the exchange of hostages. All who wished were to be free to depart with the retiring troops. These were liberal terms, but still the people were unwilling to submit, and when the French hostages arrived they had to be protected by a large body of the Turkish troops, and even Osman Agha himself, who throughout the siege had been foremost in the defence, and ever where danger was thickest, even he had to seek protection from the wrath of the mob that still furiously cried out against the admission of the French.
At length, peace and order having been restored, the Turks and Mamaluks made haste to leave thetown, and a general amnesty having been proclaimed, Cairo was once more treated to a grand triumphal entry of the French, and was once more directed to decorate and illuminate itself in token of rejoicing.
For the third time the people settled down to bear the rule of the French with what patience they could, and, in the manner that still characterises their daily lives, the quarrel of the moment having been abandoned, they let it sleep and went about their affairs as much as possible as if nothing had ever occurred to interrupt them. Not that they were in the least reconciled to the French, or that they had ceased to long for redemption from the slavery in which they were held. Far from that, but loyal to the terms they had accepted, they desisted from all open or, indeed, covert opposition. It would have been unreasonable to ask or expect more than this. So the truce having once been made the French, though they did not think so, were absolutely safe from any molestation or annoyance from the people who, as a body, with all their faults, fear God, and, obeying the law of Islam, observe their covenants even when made with an enemy.
One might have thought that this people, who had so strenuously resisted the making of peace, who had turned against the most trusted of their own leaders for accepting terms, who, in the hope of rendering peace impossible, had frantically attempted to attack the hostages—one might have thought that this people would have repudiated the terms, and have sought every opportunity to injure and annoy theFrench. Nor could they with any reason have been held altogether blamable in refusing to abide by terms made in direct opposition to their wishes. Yet this is, as I have said, just what they did not do, and peace once established, the French went about among them as safe and as free from molestation as though the people had no grievance against them.
Let us turn now and see how the French interpreted the amnesty they had accorded the people.