The Representation of the People Bill was yesterday read a second time in the House of Lords without a division, and without discussion upon anything it contains.... The terms offered by the Government, and now definitely accepted by the Opposition, are, first, that the draft of the Redistribution Bill shall be submitted in private to the Conservative leaders, in order that, by suggesting the alterations they think necessary, they may convince themselves of the equity and fairness of the measure. In the second place, it is agreed that, when a Redistribution Bill satisfactory to both parties has been framed, the Opposition will give to the Government adequate assurance that the Franchise Bill shall pass the House of Lords.... Lastly, the Government pledge themselves to take up the Redistribution Bill as early as possible in the New Year, to push it through its remaining stages with all possible expedition, and, relying upon the loyal support of the Opposition being given to the joint scheme, to stake not only their credit but their existence upon the passing of the Bill into law in the Session of 1885.
[FEEDING POOR SCHOOL CHILDREN (1884).]
Source.—The Times, December 13.
The question of providing penny dinners for the children of the London poor has received pretty ample discussion. Everybody can form an idea now of the difficulties which will have to be surmounted by the central committee of School Board managers and teachers.... The vital principle of the scheme is that the dinners shall be supplied on a self-supporting basis. In some places the work has been undertaken with more zeal than knowledge, and there has been quick disappointment. The Vicar of St. Mark's, Walworth, who seems to doubt whether the scheme can be carried out on purely commercial lines, tells us how fastidious are the children of the poor. They turn from macaroni; they dislike the flavour of cabbage boiled up in a stew; they will have nothing to say to haricot beans, lentils, or salads; they mistrust soup; and are generally most attracted by suet dumplings and jam or currant puddings.
[THE DEATH OF GORDON (1885).]
Source.—Sir Reginald Wingate's Mahdiism and the Egyptian Soudan, pp. 166-172. (Macmillans.)
Soon all that had been in the commissariat was finished, and then the inhabitants and the soldiers had to eat dogs, donkeys, skins of animals, gum, and palm fibre, and famine prevailed. The soldiers stood on the fortifications like pieces of wood. The civilians were even worse off. Many died of hunger, and corpses filled the streets; no one had even energy to bury them.... We were heartbroken; the people and soldiers began to lose faith in Gordon's promises, and they were terribly weak from famine. At last Sunday morning broke, and Gordon Pasha, who used always to watch the enemy's movements from the top of the palace, noticed a considerable movement in the south, which looked as if the Arabs were collecting at Kalakala. He at once sent word to all of us who had attended the previous meeting, and to a few others, to come at once to the palace. We all came, but Gordon Pasha did not see us. We were again addressed by Giriagis Bey, who said he had been told by Gordon Pasha to inform us that he noticed much movement in the enemy's lines, and believed an attack would be made on the town; he therefore ordered us to collect every male in the town from the age of eight, even to the old men, and to line all the fortifications, and that if we had difficulty in getting this order obeyed we were to use force. Giriagis said that Gordon Pasha now appealed to us for the last time to make a determined stand, for in twenty-four hours' time he had no doubt the English would arrive; but that if we preferred to submit then, he gave the commandant liberty to open the gates, and let all join the rebels. He had nothing more to say. I then asked to be allowed to see the Pasha, and was admitted to his presence. I found him sitting on a divan, and as I came in he pulled off his tarboush (fez) and flung it from him, saying, "What more can I say? I have nothing more to say; the people will no longer believe me; I have told them over and over again that help would be here, but it has never come, and now they must see I tell them lies. If this, my last promise, fails, I can do nothing more. Go and collect all the people you can on the lines, and make a good stand. Now leave me to smoke these cigarettes." (There were two full boxes of cigarettes on the table.) I could see he was in despair, and he spoke in a tone I had never heard before. I knew then that he had been too agitated to address the meeting, and thought the sight of his despair would dishearten us. All the anxiety he had undergone had gradually turned his hair to a snowy white. I left him, and this was the last time I saw him alive.... It was a gloomy day, that last day in Khartoum; hundreds lay dead and dying in the streets from starvation, and there were none to bury them. At length the night came, and, as I afterwards learnt, Gordon Pasha sat up writing till midnight, and then lay down to sleep. He awoke some time between two and three a.m. The wild war-cries of the Arabs were heard close at hand. A large body of rebels had crept in the dark close up to the broken-down parapet and filled-up ditch, between the White Nile and the Messalamieh Gate. The soldiers never knew of the enemy's approach until about twenty minutes before they were actually attacked, when the tramp of feet was heard, and the alarm was sounded; but they were so tired out and exhausted that it was not until the sentries fired that the rest of the men suddenly started up surprised, to find swarms of Arabs pouring over the ditch and up the parapet, yelling and shouting their war-cries. Here they met with little resistance, for most of the soldiers were four or five paces apart, and were too feeble to oppose such a rush. The Arabs were soon within the lines, and thus able to attack the rest of the soldiers from behind. They were opposed at some points, but it was soon all over.... Meanwhile Gordon Pasha, on being roused by the noise, went on to the roof of the palace in his sleeping clothes. He soon made out that the rebels had entered the town, and for upwards of an hour he kept up a hot fire in the direction of the attack. I heard that he also sent word to get up steam in the steamer, but the engineer was not there; he had been too frightened to leave his house. As dawn approached Gordon Pasha could see the Arab banners in the town, and soon the gun became useless, for he could not depress it enough to fire on the enemy. By this time the Arabs had crowded round the palace in thousands, but for a time no one dared enter, for they thought mines were laid to blow them up. Meanwhile Gordon Pasha had left the roof; he went to his bedroom, which was close to the divan, and there he put on a white uniform, his sword, which he did not draw, and, carrying his revolver in his right hand, stepped out into the passage in front of the entrance to the office, and just at the head of the staircase. During this interval four men, more brave than the rest, forced their way into the palace, and once in were followed by hundreds of others. Of these latter, the majority rushed up the stairs to the roof, where, after a short resistance, the palace guard, servants, and cavasses were all killed; while the four men—Taha Shahin, a Dongolawi, whose father was formerly in my service; Ibrahim Abu Shanab, servant of George Angelleto; Hamad Wad Ahmed Jar en Nebbi, Hassani; and a fourth, also a Dongolawi, servant to Fathallah Jehami—followed by a crowd of others, knowing Gordon Pasha's room, rushed towards it. Taha Shahin was the first to encounter Gordon beside the door of the divan, apparently waiting for the Arabs, and standing with a calm and dignified manner, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Shahin, dashing forward with the curse "Mala' oun el yom yomek!" (O cursed one, your time is come!), plunged his spear into his body. Gordon, it is said, made a gesture of scorn with his right hand, and turned his back, where he received another spear wound, which caused him to fall forward, and was most likely his mortal wound. The other three men, closely following Shahin, then rushed in, and, cutting at the prostrate body with their swords, must have killed him in a few seconds. His death occurred just before sunrise. He made no resistance, and did not fire a shot from his revolver. From all I knew, I am convinced that he never intended to surrender. I should say he must have intended to use his revolver only if he saw it was the intention of the Arabs to take him prisoner alive; but he saw such crowds rushing on him with swords and spears, and there being no important emirs with them, he must have known that they did not intend to spare him, and that was most likely what he wanted.... Gordon Pasha's head was immediately cut off and sent to the Mahdi at Omdurman, while his body was dragged downstairs and left exposed for a time in the garden, where many Arabs came to plunge their spears into it. I heard that the Mahdi had given orders for Gordon to be spared, but what I have stated was told me by the four men I have mentioned, and I believe the Mahdi pardoned them for their disobedience of orders.... I saw Gordon Pasha's head exposed in Omdurman. It was fixed between the branches of a tree, and all who passed by threw stones at it.