“Here we have our white canvass city, and, a little beyond it, the sombre buildings of Tozar. Here again is the thick forest of graceful palms, with their clusters of ‘fruits of gold,’ pendant beneath their feathery branches. The rippling brook flows on in its eccentric course, bearing on its surface the reflection of the host of stars in the firmament. All nature—animate and inanimate—as far as my vision could embrace, not only declared the omnipotence and benevolence of the great Eternal, but seemed to proclaim universal peace and safety,—
‘’Twas a fair scene,—a land more bright
Never did mortal eye behold!’
“The only sound audible, besides that of the sentries, and the rippling stream close by, was the voice of a dervish or saint, who was entertaining the inmates of a tent, pitched a short distance from mine, with some extraordinary Mecca legends. I was on the point of re-entering my tent, when one of the party, attracted by the scene without, called upon his companions to behold the wonderful works of God. All obeyed; and my thin texture partition enabled me to listen to their repeated exclamations of Allah Kabeer, ‘God is great!’ Thus the Moslem, like the Christian, was led, from a survey of the stupendous works of nature, to contemplate nature’s omnipotent God.”
We need not follow the steps of the expedition as it slowly retraced its path northwards through the Desert, from oasis to oasis, till it fairly reentered the region of verdure and perennial waters. Nor can we stay, even in passing, to tell of the many French deserters who have sought refuge among the tribes and towns of the Sahara, nor of their strange adventures, nor of the hardship and death which in so many cases has overtaken them. We merely reconduct Mr Davis, with a velocity unknown to desert-travelling, back to Tunis, and there leave him. His book is a very creditable performance,—though one-half of it might have been as well written (and perhaps was so) in comfortable lodgings in London as in “My Tent” in the Balad Ejjareed. It is not a book of personal adventure. The author is a reverend gentleman, who has no ambition to rival the feats of Gordon Cumming among the lions and hippopotamuses of the African wastes; still less is he inclined to become a “free lance” in the ranks of General Pelissier’s Zouaves, and spin us thrilling tales of hairbreadth escapes, such as have lately issued from the press of Germany. But he has been a considerable time—six years—in Northern Africa, and has made himself well acquainted with the language and customs of its people,—upon which subjects we know of no writer in whom we would place more confidence. He is also well acquainted with the works of adventure and travel already published on this part of the world, and of which he very properly makes use to lend additional value or interest to his own. Indeed we think we have recognised several anecdotes in his book which we have already quoted in our pages, when reviewing the foreign works in which they originally appeared. Hence these Evenings in my Tent do not contain so much fresh matter as we anticipated; yet the substance of their pages is, on the whole, both good and readable—if we except the antiquated chapter on the Slave-trade, and a few passages where the author’s clerical habits incline him to sermonise rather more than may suit the tastes of his lay readers.
THE COST OF THE COALITION MINISTRY.
It is probable that ere these pages issue from the press, war will have been formally declared with Russia, and Great Britain will be irretrievably engaged in a contest of which it is impossible to see the termination. Already our choicest troops have left our shores for the Mediterranean, inspired by the cheers and accompanied by the blessing of many hundreds of thousands of their fellow-countrymen, who, for the first time in their lives, have witnessed so solemn yet exciting a spectacle. Already has a noble fleet sailed for the waters of the Baltic, to sweep that inland sea, and to launch its thunders against the foe. Wellnigh forty years have elapsed since such din of martial preparation has been heard. On the last occasion, Russia and Britain were combined against France—now, Britain and France are combined together against Russia. Such a struggle, so commenced, must be a desperate, but not therefore necessarily a short one. We cannot yet calculate on the part to be taken by the central powers of Europe; for, notwithstanding Lord Clarendon’s assurance that Austria is with us, we have every reason to believe that the government of that country is so closely leagued with Russia, that when compelled to throw off its appearance of neutrality, its forces will be ranged upon her side.[[11]] We cannot depend upon the cordial co-operation of Prussia—which power, besides having no direct interest in the Eastern quarrel, is intimately allied with Russia, and has always acted, during times of European disturbance, with a view to its own aggrandisement. It would be folly to underrate the magnitude of the contest in which we are engaging. The re-pacification of Europe cannot be achieved without an enormous expenditure of blood and treasure, and without very considerable alterations in its territorial adjustment. The war once begun, Russia will know that she is fighting, not for the occupation of the Danubian provinces, but for the retention of the territories which she has absorbed or pillaged from her neighbours. The penalty she must pay in the event of defeat is dismemberment, and she will resist that to the uttermost.
We must not, therefore, blind ourselves to consequences, which, in so far as human judgment can go, appear to be inevitable. We may be able to disperse or even to annihilate the Russian fleets in the Baltic and the Black seas—we may be able to prevent the colossal northern power from crossing the Danube, or even beat it back from the Principalities—but the contest will not end there. We are on the verge of a general European embroilment, in which there will not only be wars, but bloody revolutions; and as we have been the first to enter, so we must be the last to withdraw. We do not say this for the purpose of checking enthusiasm—God forbid! We are already committed to the struggle; and if in the minds of any there has lingered a doubt as to the propriety of Christian intervention for the maintenance of a Mahometan power in Europe, that ought to be dispelled by the revelations recently made of the objects of the Russian ambition. The Czar is no crusader; nor is he influenced by any tender regard for the religious liberties of the Christian population dwelling beneath the government of the Sultan. He has set his eyes upon Turkey, just as Catherine in 1772 fixed hers upon Poland, and he has had the astounding effrontery to propose that Great Britain should take part in the spoliation. Here is his own proposition, as communicated to Lord John Russell, by Sir G. H. Seymour, in his despatch of 22d February 1853:—
“The Emperor went on to say that, in the event of the dissolution of the Ottoman empire, he thought it might be less difficult to arrive at a satisfactory territorial arrangement than was commonly believed. ‘The Principalities are,’ he said, ‘in fact an independent state under my protection; this might so continue. Servia might receive the same form of government. So again with Bulgaria. There seems to be no reason this province should not form an independent state. As to Egypt, I quite understand the importance to England of that territory. I can then only say that if, in the event of a distribution of the Ottoman succession upon the fall of the empire, you should take possession of Egypt, I shall have no objections to offer. I would say the same thing of Candia: that island might suit you, and I do not know why it should not become an English possession.’”
Such was the language used by the Emperor of Russia to the British minister at the Court of St Petersburg, and we really cannot imagine anything more absolutely infamous. It was a bribe, tendered evidently in the belief that it would be accepted; and the offer ought to have been at once most indignantly repelled. Was it so? We shall see presently—for the correspondence recently published is far too remarkable and momentous to be passed over with a single extract from its contents.