eminent victorians-第68章

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uncompleted　he　procured　hundreds　of　yards　of　cotton；　which　he

dyed　the　colour　of　earth；　and　spread　out　in　long；　sloping　lines；

so　as　to　deceive　the　Arabs；　while　the　real　works　were　being

prepared　farther　back。　When　a　lack　of　money　began　to　make　itself

felt；　he　printed　and　circulated　a　paper　coinage　of　his　own。　To

combat　the　growing　discontent　and　disaffection　of　the

townspeople；　he　instituted　a　system　of　orders　and　medals；　the

women　were　not　forgotten；　and　his　popularity　redoubled。　There　was

terror　in　the　thought　that　harm　might　come　to　the　Governor…

General。　Awe　and　reverence　followed　him；　wherever　he　went　he　was

surrounded　by　a　vigilant　and　jealous　guard；　like　some　precious

idol；　some　mascot　of　victory。　How　could　he　go　away？　How　could　he

desert　his　people？　It　was　impossible。　It　would　be；　as　he　himself

exclaimed　in　one　of　his　latest　telegrams　to　Sir　Evelyn　Baring；

'the　climax　of　meanness'；　even　to　contemplate　such　an　act。　Sir

Evelyn　Baring　thought　differently。　In　his　opinion　it　was　General

Gordon's　plain　duty　to　have　come　away　from　Khartoum。　To　stay

involved　inevitably　a　relief　expeditiona　great　expense　of

treasure　and　the　loss　of　valuable　lives；　to　come　away　would

merely　mean　that　the　inhabitants　of　Khartoum　would　be　'taken

prisoner　by　the　Mahdi'。　So　Sir　Evelyn　Baring　put　it；　but　the　case

was　not　quite　so　simple　as　that。　When　Berber　fell；　there　had　been

a　massacre　lasting　for　days　an　appalling　orgy　of　loot　and　lust

and　slaughter；　when　Khartoum　itself　was　captured；　what　followed

was　still　more　terrible。　Decidedly；　it　was　no　child's　play　to　be

'taken　prisoner　by　the　Mahdi'。　And　Gordon　was　actually　there；

among　those　people；　in　closest　intercourse　with　them；

responsible；　beloved。　Yes；　no　doubt。　But　was　that　in　truth；　his

only　motive？　Did　he　not　wish　in　reality；　by　lingering　in

Khartoum；　to　force　the　hand　of　the　Government？　To　oblige　them；

whether　they　would　or　no；　to　send　an　army　to　smash　up　the　Mahdi？

And　was　that　fair？　Was　THAT　his　duty？　He　might　protest；　with　his

last　breath；　that　he　had　'tried　to　do　his　duty'；　Sir　Evelyn

Baring；　at　any　rate；　would　not　agree。



But　Sir　Evelyn　Baring　was　inaudible；　and　Gordon　now　cared　very

little　for　his　opinions。　Is　it　possible　that；　if　only　for　a

moment；　in　his　extraordinary　predicament；　he　may　have　listened　to

another　and　a　very　different　voicea　voice　of　singular　quality；

a　voice　whichfor　so　one　would　fain　imaginemay　well　have

wakened　some　familiar　echoes　in　his　heart？　One　day；　he　received　a

private　letter　from　the　Mahdi。　The　letter　was　accompanied　by　a

small　bundle　of　clothes。　'In　the　name　of　God！'　wrote　the　Mahdi；

'herewith　a　suit　of　clothes；　consisting　of　a　coat　（jibbeh）；　an

overcoat；　a　turban；　a　cap；　a　girdle；　and　beads。　This　is　the

clothing　of　those　who　have　given　up　this　world　and　its　vanities；

and　who　look　for　the　world　to　come；　for　everlasting　happiness　in

Paradise。　If　you　truly　desire　to　come　to　God　and　seek　to　live　a

godly　life；　you　must　at　once　wear　this　suit；　and　come　out　to

accept　your　everlasting　good　fortune。'　Did　the　words　bear　no

meaning　to　the　mystic　of　Gravesend？　But　he　was　an　English

gentleman；　an　English　officer。　He　flung　the　clothes　to　the

ground；　and　trampled　on　them　in　the　sight　of　all。　Then；　alone；　he

went　up　to　the　roof　of　his　high　palace；　and　turned　the　telescope

once　more；　almost　mechanically；　towards　the　north。



But　nothing　broke　the　immovability　of　that　hard　horizon；　and；

indeed；　how　was　it　possible　that　help　should　come　to　him　now？　He

seemed　to　be　utterly　abandoned。　Sir　Evelyn　Baring　had　disappeared

into　his　financial　conference。　In　England；　Mr。　Gladstone　had　held

firm；　had　outfaced　the　House　of　Commons；　had　ignored　the　Press。

He　appeared　to　have　triumphed。　Though　it　was　clear　that　no

preparations　of　any　kind　were　being　made　for　the　relief　of

Gordon；　the　anxiety　and　agitation　of　the　public；　which　had　risen

so　suddenly　to　such　a　height　of　vehemence；　had　died　down。　The

dangerous　beast　had　been　quelled　by　the　stern　eye　of　its　master。

Other　questions　became　more　interestingthe　Reform　Bill；　the

Russians；　the　House　of　Lords。　Gordon；　silent　in　Khartoum；　had

almost　dropped　out　of　remembrance。　And　yet；　help　did　come　after

all。　And　it　came　from　an　unexpected　quarter。　Lord　Hartington　had

been　for　some　time　convinced　that　he　was　responsible　for　Gordon's

appointment；　and　his　conscience　was　beginning　to　grow

uncomfortable。



Lord　Hartington's　conscience　was　of　a　piece　with　the　rest　of　him。

It　was　not；　like　Mr。　Gladstone's；　a　salamander…consciencean

intangible；　dangerous　creature；　that　loved　to　live　in　the　fire；

nor　was　it；　like　Gordon's；　a　restless　conscience；　nor；　like　Sir

Evelyn　Baring's；　a　diplomatic　conscience；　it　was　a　commonplace

affair。　Lord　Hartington　himself　would　have　been　disgusted　by　any

mention　of　it。　If　he　had　been　obliged；　he　would　have　alluded　to

it　distantly；　he　would　have　muttered　that　it　was　a　bore　not　to　do

the　proper　thing。　He　was　usually　boredfor　one　reason　or

another；　but　this　particular　form　of　boredom　he　found　more

intense　than　all　the　rest。　He　would　take　endless　pains　to　avoid

it。　Of　course；　the　whole　thing　was　a　nuisancean　obvious

nuisance；　and　everyone　else　must　feel　just　as　he　did　about　it。

And　yet　people　seemed　to　have　got　it　into　their　heads　that　he　had

some　kind　of　special　faculty　in　such　mattersthat　there　was　some

peculiar　value　in　his　judgment　on　a　question　of　right　and　wrong。

He　could　not　understand　why　it　was；　but　whenever　there　was　a

dispute　about　cards　in　a　club；　it　was　brought　to　him　to　settle。

It　was　most　odd。　But　it　was　trite。　In　public　affairs；　no　less

than　in　private；　Lord　Hartington's　decisions　carried　an

extraordinary　weight。　The　feeling　of　his　idle　friends　in　high

society　was　shared　by　the　great　mass　of　the　English　people；　here

was　a　man　they　could　trust。　For　indeed　he　was　built　upon　a

pattern　which　was　very　dear　to　his　countrymen。　It　was　not　simply

that　he　was　honest：　it　was　that　his　honesty　was　an　English

honestyan　honest　which　naturally　belonged　to　one　who；　so　it

seemed　to　them；　was　the　living　image　of　what　an　Englishman　should

be。



In　Lord　Hartington　they　saw；　embodied　and　glorified；　the　very

qualities　which　were　nearest　to　their　heartsimpartiality；

solidity；　common　sensethe　qualities　by　which　they　themselves

longed　to　be　distinguished；　and　by　which；　in　their　happier

moments；　they　believed　they　were。　If　ever　they　began　to　have

misgivings；　there；　at　any　rate；　was　the　example　of　Lord

Hartington　to　encourage　them　and　guide　themLord　Hartington　who

was　never　self…seeking；　who　was　never　excited；　and　who　had　no

imagination　at　all。　Everything　they　knew　about　him　fitted　into

the　picture；　adding　to　their　admiration　and　respect。　His　fondness

for　field　sports　gave　them　a　feeling　of　security；　and　certainly

there　could　be　no　nonsense　about　a　man　who　confessed　to　two

ambitionsto　become　Prime　Minister　and　to　win　the　Derbyand　who

put　the　second　above　the　first。　They　loved　him　for　his

casualnessfor　his　inexactnessfor　refusing　to　make　life　a　cut…

and…dried　businessfor　ramming　an　official　dispatch　of　high

importance　into　his　coat…pocket；　and　finding　it　there；　still

unopened；　at　Newmarket；　several　days　later。　They　loved　him　for

his　hatred　of　fine　sentiments；　they　were　delighted　when　they

heard　that　at　some　function；　on　a　florid　speaker's　avowing　that

'this　was　the　proudest　moment　of　his　life'；　Lord　Hartington　had

growled　in　an　undertone　'the　proudest　moment　of　my　life　was　when

MY　pig　won　the　prize　at　Skipton　Fair'。　Above　all；　they　loved　him

for　being　dull。　It　was　the　greatest　comfortwith　Lord　Hartington

they　could　always　be　absolutely　certain　that　he　would　never；　in

any　circumstances；　be　either　brilliant；　or　subtle；　or　surprising；

or　impassioned；　or　profound。　As　they　sat；　listening　to　his

speeches；　in　which　considerations　of　stolid　plainness　succeeded

one　another　with　complete　flatness；　they　felt；　involved　and

supported　by　the　colossal　tedium；　that　their　confiden