eminent victorians-第72章

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procured　him　some　degree　of　consideration；　and；　though　he

occasionally　suffered　from　the　caprices　of　his　masters；　he　had　so

far　escaped　the　terrible　punishment　which　had　been　meted　out　to

some　other　of　the　Mahdi's　European　prisoners　that　of　close

confinement　in　the　common　gaol。　He　was　now　kept　prisoner　in　one

of　the　camps　in　the　neighbourhood　of　Khartoum。　He　managed　to

smuggle　through　a　letter　to　Gordon；　asking　for　assistance；　in

case　he　could　make　his　escape。　To　this　letter　Gordon　did　not

reply。　Slatin　wrote　again　and　again；　his　piteous　appeals；　couched

in　no　less　piteous　French；　made　no　effect　upon　the　heart　of　the

Governor…General。　'Excellence！'　he　wrote；　'J'ai　envoye　deux

lettres；　sans　avoir　recu　une　reponse　de　votre　excellence。　。。。

Excellence！　j'ai　me　battu　27　FOIS　pour　le　gouvernement　contre

l'ennemion　m'a　feri　deux　fois；　et　j'ai　rien　fait　contre

l'honneurrien　de　chose　qui　doit　empeche　votre　excellence　de

m'ecrir　une　reponse　que　je　sais　quoi　faire。　JE　VOUS　PRIE；

Excellence；　de　m'honore　avec　une　reponse。　P。S。　Si　votre

Excellence　ont　peutetre　entendu　que　j'ai　fait　quelque　chose

contre　l'honneur　d'un　officier　et　cela　vous　empeche　de　m'ecrir；

je　vous　prie　de　me　donner　l'occasion　de　me　defendre；　et　jugez

apres　la　verite。'　The　unfortunate　Slatin　understood　well　enough

the　cause　of　Gordon's　silence。　It　was　in　vain　that　he　explained

the　motives　of　his　conversion；　in　vain　that　he　pointed　out　that

it　had　been　made　easier　for　him　since　he　had；　'PERHAPS　UNHAPPILY；

not　received　a　strict　religious　education　at　home'。　Gordon　was

adamant。　Slatin　had　'denied　his　Lord'；　and　that　was　enough。　His

communications　with　Khartoum　were　discovered　and　he　was　put　in

chains。　When　Gordon　heard　of　it；　he　noted　the　fact　grimly　in　his

diary；　without　a　comment。



A　more　ghastly　fate　awaited　another　European　who　had　fallen　into

the　hands　of　the　Mahdi。　Clavier　Pain；　a　French　adventurer；　who

had　taken　part　in　the　Commune；　and　who　was　now　wandering；　for

reasons　which　have　never　been　discovered；　in　the　wastes　of　the

Sudan；　was　seized　by　the　Arabs；　made　prisoner；　and　hurried　from

camp　to　camp。　He　was　attacked　by　fever；　but　mercy　was　not　among

the　virtues　of　the　savage　soldiers　who　held　him　in　their　power。

Hoisted　upon　the　back　of　a　camel；　he　was　being　carried　across　the

desert；　when；　overcome　by　weakness；　he　lost　his　hold；　and　fell　to

the　ground。　Time　or　trouble　were　not　to　be　wasted　upon　an

infidel。　Orders　were　given　that　he　should　be　immediately　buried；

the　orders　were　carried　out；　and　in　a　few　moments　the　cavalcade

had　left　the　little　hillock　far　behind。　But　some　of　those　who

were　present　believed　that　Olivier　Pain　had　been　still　breathing

when　his　body　was　covered　with　the　sand。



Gordon；　on　hearing　that　a　Frenchman　had　been　captured　by　the

Mahdi；　became　extremely　interested。　The　idea　occurred　to　him　that

this　mysterious　individual　was　none　other　than　Ernest　Renan；

'who；'　he　wrote；　in　his　last　publication　'takes　leave　of　the

world；　and　is　said　to　have　gone　into　Africa；　not　to　reappear

again'。　He　had　met　Renan　at　the　rooms　of　the　Royal　Geographical

Society；　had　noticed　that　he　looked　boredthe　result；　no　doubt；

of　too　much　admirationand　had　felt　an　instinct　that　he　would

meet　him　again。　The　instinct　now　seemed　to　be　justified。　There

could　hardly　be　any　doubt　that　it　WAS　Renan；　who　else　could　it

be？　'If　he　comes　to　the　lines；'　he　decided；　'and　it　is　Renan；　I

shall　go　and　see　him；　for　whatever　one　may　think　of　his　unbelief

in　our　Lord；　he　certainly　dared　to　say　what　he　thought；　and　he

has　not　changed　his　creed　to　save　his　life。'　That　the　mellifluous

author　of　the　Vie　de　Jesus　should　have　determined　to　end　his　days

in　the　depths　of　Africa；　and　have　come；　in　accordance　with　an

intuition；　to　renew　his　acquaintance　with　General　Gordon　in　the

lines　of　Khartoum；　would　indeed　have　been　a　strange　occurrence；

but　who　shall　limit　the　strangeness　of　the　possibilities　that　lie

in　wait　for　the　sons　of　men？　At　that　very　moment；　in　the　south…

eastern　corner　of　the　Sudan；　another　Frenchman；　of　a　peculiar

eminence；　was　fulfilling　a　destiny　more　extraordinary　than　the

wildest　romance。　In　the　town　of　Harrar；　near　the　Red　Sea；　Arthur

Rimbaud　surveyed　with　splenetic　impatience　the　tragedy　of

Khartoum。　'C'est　justement　les　Anglais；'　he　wrote；　'avec　leur

absurde　politique；　qui　minent　desormais　le　commerce　de　toutes　ces

cotes。　Ils　ont　voulu　tout　remanier　et　ils　sont　arrives　a　faire

pire　que　les　Egyptiens　et　les　Turcs；　ruines　par　eux。　Leur　Gordon

est　un　idiot；　leur　Wolseley　un　ane；　et　toutes　leurs　entreprises

une　suite　insensee　d'absurdites　et　de　depredations。'　So　wrote　the

amazing　poet　of　the　Saison　d'Enfer　amid　those　futile　turmoils　of

petty　commerce；　in　which；　with　an　inexplicable　deliberation；　he

had　forgotten　the　enchantments　of　an　unparalleled　adolescence；

forgotten　the　fogs　of　London　and　the　streets　of　Brussels；

forgotten　Paris；　forgotten　the　subtleties　and　the　frenzies　of

inspiration；　forgotten　the　agonised　embraces　of　Verlaine。



When　the　contents　of　Colonel　Stewart's　papers　had　been

interpreted　to　the　Mahdi；　he　realised　the　serious　condition　of

Khartoum；　and　decided　that　the　time　had　come　to　press　the　siege

to　a　final　conclusion。　At　the　end　of　October；　he　himself；　at　the

head　of　a　fresh　army；　appeared　outside　the　town。　From　that

moment；　the　investment　assumed　a　more　and　more　menacing

character。　The　lack　of　provisions　now　for　the　first　time　began　to

make　itself　felt。　November　30ththe　date　fixed　by　Gordon　as　the

last　possible　moment　of　his　resistancecame　and　went；　the

Expeditionary　Force　had　made　no　sign。　The　fortunate　discovery　of

a　large　store　of　grain；　concealed　by　some　merchants　for　purposes

of　speculation；　once　more　postponed　the　catastrophe。　But　the

attacking　army　grew　daily　more　active；　the　skirmishes　around　the

lines　and　on　the　river　more　damaging　to　the　besieged；　and　the

Mahdi's　guns　began　an　intermittent　bombardment　of　the　palace。　By

December　10th　it　was　calculated　that　there　was　not　fifteen　days'

food　in　the　town；　'truly　I　am　worn　to　a　shadow　with　the　food

question'；　Gordon　wrote；　'it　is　one　continuous　demand'。　At　the

same　time　he　received　the　ominous　news　that　five　of　his　soldiers

had　deserted　to　the　Mahdi。　His　predicament　was　terrible；　but　he

calculated；　from　a　few　dubious　messages　that　had　reached　him；

that　the　relieving　force　could　not　be　very　far　away。　Accordingly；

on　the　14th；　he　decided　to　send　down　one　of　his　four　remaining

steamers；　the　Bordeen；　to　meet　it　at　Metemmah；　in　order　to

deliver　to　the　officer　in　command　the　latest　information　as　to

the　condition　of　the　town。　The　Bordeen　carried　down　the　last

portion　of　the　Journals；　and　Gordon's　final　messages　to　his

friends。　Owing　to　a　misunderstanding；　he　believed　that　Sir　Evelyn

Baring　was　accompanying　the　expedition　from　Egypt；　and　some　of

his　latest　and　most　successful　satirical　fancies　played　around

the　vision　of　the　distressed　Consul…General　perched　for　days　upon

the　painful　eminence　of　a　camel's　hump。　'There　was　a　slight　laugh

when　Khartoum　heard　Baring　was　bumping　his　way　up　here　a

regular　Nemesis。'　But；　when　Sir　Evelyn　Baring　actually　arrived

in　whatever　condition　what　would　happen？　Gordon　lost　himself　in

the　multitude　of　his　speculations。　His　own　object；　he　declared；

was；　'of　course；　to　make　tracks'。　Then　in　one　of　his　strange

premonitory　rhapsodies；　he　threw　out；　half　in　jest　and　half　in

earnest；　that　the　best　solution　of　all　the　difficulties　of　the

future　would　be　the　appointment　of　Major　Kitchener　as　Governor…

General　of　the　Sudan。　The　Journal　ended　upon　a　note　of　menace　and

disdain：　'Now　MARK　THIS；　if　the　Expeditionary　Force；　and　I　ask

for　no　more　than　200　men；　does　not　come　in　ten　days；　the　town　may

fall；　and　I　have　done　my　best　for　the　honour　of　our　country。

Good…bye。C。　G。　G0RD0N。



'You　send　me　no　information；　though　you　have　lots　of　money。　C。　G。

G。'



To　his　sister　Augusta　he　was　more　explicit。　'I　decline　to　agree；'