One of the most amusing things which struck me in Palestine, exemplifying how little worth the world’s praise is, was an article in the Times describing the making of a D.C.L. at Oxford. Sir Charles Wilson received this honour. The Times, in remarking on the affair, mixed Wilson, R.E., up with Rivers Wilson of National Debt Office, and spoke of his “financial capacities” in Egypt. Of course Wilson, R.E., could not help thinking he had been robbing Wilson of National Debt Office of his renown, while Rivers Wilson felt hurt at being robbed of it. Two people were accordingly put out; while the innocent writer in the Times, when penning his article, was thinking how he could meet his rent (this is pure supposition). We may be quite certain, that Jones cares more for where he is going to dine, or what he has got for dinner, than he does for what Smith has done, so we need not fret ourselves for what the world says. The article in the Times was a Mordecai to Wilson, R.E., and quite destroyed the pleasure of receiving the D.C.L.; yet the writer in the Times did all he could to exalt Wilson, R.E. I think the Press is first-rate, to ventilate articles; but when “we” come out, and praise or blame, I do not care a bit for “we”; for I have seen the “We’s,” and found them much as myself. I would never muzzle the press or its correspondents; they are most useful, and one cannot be too grateful to them (I own this more than any one), but I certainly think, that their province does not extend to praising or blaming a man, for by praising, or blaming, an assumption is made of superiority, for the greater only can do that, to the inferior; and no newspaper can arrogate that its correspondent is superior to the General (though I declare I think, sometimes, it may be the case).
Take for instance our defeat here, on the 16th March, which is put down to the treachery of the Pashas. Ten thousand articles in the Times will not make me think that their execution was not a judicial murder, yet probably the Times may say, I was justified: it alters not the affair with me, it is simply my intelligence against that of their correspondent; if the Times saw this in print, it would say, “Why, then, did you act as you did?” to which I fear I have no answer.
September 20.—Six escaped soldiers came in this morning with their arms; they say that the others meditate a general rush for the lines to escape, that the Arabs are quite astonished at our being so quiet, and believe a mine is being driven under them. The men who came to-day said the Mahdi is still at Rahad! not at Schatt. One of these men was a perfect peacock with the patches on his dervish dress. Yesterday evening, while a gale was blowing, Waled a Goun took out the Krupp, meaning to bombard us, but he then took it back on Abou Gugliz’ remonstrances, who said that we had stayed quiet for months, that he had made splendid fortresses, and that on one day we had burst on him, and broken him up.
A curious letter[61] was found written, just before Hicks’ forces perished, by a high officer; it is in the terms, “Stranger, go tell the Lacedemonians we lie here, in obedience to their laws.”
I have in a previous page abused the Egyptian soldier, but it is not just, for what possible interest can they take in warlike operations in the Soudan? The English beat them in Egypt, and then sent them up here to be massacred in detail. One may say the massacred ten thousand of Hicks’ army, at any rate, showed they could die, if they could not fight.
When we got hemmed in, a lot of slaves belonging to masters in Kartoum got cut off. They have been coming in in driblets ever since, and we made the men soldiers, and the women were freed; this of course bore hard on their masters, who thus lost their slaves, so I have determined to compensate these masters, at rate of £7 per man, £5 per woman, being an inferior article. Certainly I would make ‘Plutarch’s Lives’ a handbook for our young officers; it is worth any numbers of ‘Arts of War’ or ‘Minor Tactics.’
Some accounts in the Gazette, describing reasons for giving the Victoria Cross, are really astounding, such as a man who, with another, was sent out on a reconnaissance, this other was wounded, and his companion waited for him, and took him on his horse, saving his life! What would we have said, had he left his companion? Lots of these cases pass by unheeded, which, if read by ‘Plutarch’s Lives,’ would be simply a man’s duty. A soldier is bound entirely to his work as a soldier, he can never do more than his duty, and his métier is the Field; therefore he deserves nothing, for he is already paid for that métier, and not for garrison or home life. The original idea of the Victoria Cross was to give the subaltern officers, non-commissioned officers, and men a decoration, which would take the place of the Bath, to ranks below that of Major, which by the statutes of the Bath could not be done; then came the mistake to give the Victoria Cross for deeds of éclat, and so now it is. I like that old Iron Duke with his fearful temper: he told a friend of my father, who was bewailing his long and meritorious service, “That he ought to be —— glad the country had kept him so long.” I wish Wolseley would take up this line, and get some quixotic chivalry into us: that it is possible I feel sure, for we are the same men as before. In three campaigns, out of four of late years, no officer or soldier has gone through such privations or dangers, as are gone through by our naval officers and sailors in gunboats, in various parts of the world, yet these latter would be scoffed at if they pleaded these privations, in order to get reward. A man defends a post, if he loses it his throat is cut; why give him a Victoria Cross? and if given, why not give it to all who were with him? they equally with him defended their throats. The men I should like to see cross-questioned on the country they are in are our Generals, whose whole time is taken up in their offices with courts-martial, &c., &c., an occasional day being devoted to moving men about in formations, which are never put into execution in the Field? The métier of a General is the Field, not the office; it is as if all their time is to be taken up with the horse in the stable, not in the country, whereas the latter is the most important. I should like to see Wolseley trot out the generals over their districts; ask them the routes, their proposed distribution of men in case of attack, and water-supply to Forts. I do not think it is generally known that if a gunboat cut the sea-wall near Cooling on Thames, the Cliffe and Shornemead Forts are cut off from main land, and that the Thames would come up to high lands, and be ten miles wide. There is one man only that I know who has the gift of questioning, because he knows every part of the coast, Sir W. Jervois; and if Wolseley has not the time, he would do schoolmaster. Of course, this is all fearful treason and presumption.
Spy in Halfeyeh states Stewart’s steamers have recaptured the two steamers I had lost at Berber, and had no fighting to speak of; that the English troops are advancing on Ambukol,[62] half way between Debbeh and Merowé, and had defeated the Arabs.
A young black soldier has just escaped from the Arabs; he was pursued by three horsemen and some footmen, and he kept blazing away at them till he got into the lines. He says he killed two of his pursuers.
I wrote a letter[63] to Abdel Kader, the old sheikh on South Front, and sent him a packet of soap with the letter, as he had lamented to one of our men, who had escaped, that he had none. I daresay he will think the packet is a mine!