Returning from Australia we touched at Colombo, where my companion and a friend paid an interesting visit to Arabi, who invited them to dine with him. It soon became evident that intercourse would have to be conducted through interpreters, as Arabi understood neither French nor English, and his visitors were ignorant of Arabic.

My friend was an invalid, and the first dish put on the table caused him great anxiety, as it was one which his medical man had given him strict orders to avoid. What was to be done? My companion explained to the invalid that in the East no greater affront could be given to a host than to decline to partake of what was offered, and so, not having provided himself with Jack the Giant Killer’s device for disposing of surplus food, he was fain to eat it, not without certain fearful forebodings.Arabi’s personal appearance had greatly altered, he having grown a beard which was turning grey. At the table with him were his two sons, lads apparently of ten and twelve years respectively. On his left sat Fehmi Pasha, a man of very striking appearance with a face indicating considerable intellectual power. Arabi desired to know what the English thought of him, a question which my companion parried by saying the English always respected a brave man. Rising to take leave of the host, my companion patted the head of the eldest boy in a kindly manner. This seemed to move Arabi in a singular way. He rose and said, in a sharp tone of command, to his boys, “Salaam,” then, crossing the room and placing his hand on my companion’s shoulder, said with some emotion, “Ah, ah, good, good.”

Proceeding on our voyage we called at Aden, a dreadful place, without a single redeeming feature, in European eyes. Those of our countrymen who are compelled to reside here in the service of the country are entitled to the deepest sympathy of every Englishman. The possession of Aden is of considerable importance to England and to India, both as a coaling station and as a military post, although in the latter respect it is of less importance than formerly. The islands commanding the channels at the entrance to the Red Sea are after all the key to the position, one of the most important being the Island of Perim, the acquisition of which does more credit to the ’cuteness of the British commander at Aden than to his sense of honour—that is, if the story told of him be true. It is related that one evening, nearly forty years ago, two French war-ships cast anchor before Aden, and the English governor with a laudable desire to ascertain the object of their visit invited the commanders of the ships to dinner. Unfortunately for France the officers were not teetotallers, and the weather being hot and the British commander’s wine strong, the gallant Frenchmen’s tongues were loosened, and the perfidious Englishman ascertained that the mission with which his guests were charged was no less than the occupation of the Island of Perim in the name of Louis Philippe, King of the French!

Adenese Women

Without losing a moment the governor sent orders to the captain of the English gunboat lying at Aden to proceed with all speed and in the strictest secrecy to take possession of the island in the name of the Queen! The sun had risen before the festivities at the governor’s residence had ceased, and then with many bows his guests departed to their ships, and shortly afterwards left Aden for their destination. On arrival, their astonishment and mortification may be imagined when they saw on the highest point on the island the British flag flying, and the gunboat which they had seen at Aden on the previous day anchored close inshore. The incident gave occasion for much tall talk at the time on the part of the fiery French colonels, and, not without reason, I fear, gave fresh life to the cry of “Perfidious Albion.”

We arrived at Suez in the third week of February, and as soon as our steamer stopped, our old dragoman Hassan came on board with a huge packet of letters for us, and although he had only seen us once before, three years ago, he not only remembered our names but came straight to us and told us he had brought a boat for our use, and that bedrooms were engaged for us at the hotel. We owed all this attention—which was most seasonable, as I was still suffering from the effects of a malarious fever contracted in Australia—to Messrs. Cook and Son, who had been advised of my coming, and here I will say that in Egypt and Syria the name of “Cook” is the talisman which solves all difficulties and robs travelling of nearly all its inconveniences.

On landing we were forcibly struck with the altered demeanour of the people since our previous visit. On that occasion landing was effected under the greatest difficulties. The people seemed to look upon us as fair prey. It was almost impossible for us to keep our luggage together, and the insolent threatening manner in which backsheesh was demanded was not a little disturbing to those who were visiting an eastern country for the first time. But now all was changed; instead of idle excited crowds loitering everywhere, everyone seemed to be engaged in some work, backsheesh was rarely asked for, and always in subdued tones, and one refusal was enough. Even the donkey boys had been reached, for when their proffered services were declined they went away with a “thank you.”

The Suez Hotel is kept by an Englishman, and he informed us that during the war he left it in charge of natives, and found everything safe and in order on his return.

On the following day we proceeded by railway to Cairo, vi Ismailia and Tel-el-Kebir. At many of the stations British soldiers were on guard, a part of their duty appearing to be the inspection of the natives’ baggage; this was done amidst much good humour on both sides—indeed, all through Egypt the British soldier seemed to be on the best possible terms with the people, as indeed there is every reason why he should be, for it is certain he has been the means of saving the people of Egypt from a tyranny of the worst kind—the tyranny of rapacious pachas, civil and military. With the usual exclusiveness of our nation, our party of four had arranged to have the whole of the compartment of the railway-carriage to ourselves. It is true we paid extra for the convenience, but at one of the stations, the train being very crowded, two Frenchmen endeavoured to enter, being prevented, however, by the Arab conductor. The Frenchmen, with much gesticulation and great volubility, pointed out to the Arab that there were only four persons in the carriage, whereas it was constructed to take eight; the guard insisted that there were eight persons in the compartment, although it was patent to all that there were only four. “Four!” said the Frenchmen. “Eight!” returned the guard, giving us a most wicked wink, which, however, failed to extort backsheesh. Ultimately our would-be companions were safely bestowed elsewhere.

The railway passes by the field of Tel-el-Kebir, the entrenchments stretching as far as the eye can reach. When my companion went over the ground a few weeks after the battle it was covered with debris of every kind, clothing, arms, ammunition, and other ghastly indications of a battle-field.

In one of the entrenchments my friend found a leaf torn from the New Testament, while only a yard or two away was a leaf from the Koran, and hard by he picked up a letter written in Arabic, addressed to a soldier on the field, requesting him to authorise the writer to collect his rents in Cairo.

On reaching the station of Tel-el-Kebir we found a number of tourists who had come up from Cairo to gather curiosities from the battle-field, but since my friend’s visit in the autumn everything had been cleared off, and the new comers were gathering pebbles (!) as mementoes of the famous engagement.

The little grave-yard in which the British troops are buried is situated near to the station, and appeared to be kept in excellent order.

In Cairo, as in Suez, the absence of the feverish excitement, latent insolence, and spirit of unrest, so apparent during our last visit, was very noticeable. There, too, backsheesh was rarely demanded, and most of the people seemed to have something to do.It was curious to see the English soldiers lounging about the town in all directions. They seemed to be quite at home. One of them informed me he had gone through the Transvaal campaign, but very much preferred the land of Goshen!

While we were in Cairo we often expressed our wonder that the city was ever free from cholera or some other deadly epidemic. The sanitary condition of the streets and public places was shocking in the extreme.

Fronting the Opera House and the great hotels and Government offices are the extensive Ezbekiyeh public gardens, enclosed with iron railings. Around the outside is a very handsome paved footpath, which, although in the very heart of the city, is in many places utterly impassable because of the unspeakable horrors accumulated upon it. If the English occupation of Egypt does nothing more than cause the towns of that country to be properly cleansed, it will be the means of saving as many lives every few years as were lost in the late campaign.

There are two classes of people who undoubtedly view the British occupation of Egypt with great and well-founded dislike—the military party and the pachas. These classes have always played into each other’s hands, and always at the expense of the down-trodden and patient fellaheen—the backbone and mainstay of the country. For the latter class the presence of the British army is an almost unmixed blessing.

From time immemorial the desirability of connecting the Mediterranean and Red Seas by a canal has been fully recognised; but the work does not appear to have been attempted before the reign of Pharaoh Necho, who undertook to construct a canal between the Nile and the Red Sea. In carrying out this work 120,000 Egyptians perished, and before it was completed the King abandoned it, having been informed by the Oracle that the foreigners alone would profit by the work. Eventually the canal was completed under the rule of Darius the Persian, and of the Ptolemies.

The canal was carried through the lakes Balah and Menzaleh, another branch being constructed to the Bitter Lakes, into which the fresh water canal—watering the land of Goshen—emptied itself; but owing to the constant state of war it fell into decay, and was abandoned.

Many suggestions as to the reopening of the waterway have been made in almost every generation since. Bonaparte, during his expedition to Egypt in 1798, even caused the preliminary works to be undertaken. His chief engineer surveyed the ground, but, owing to a serious miscalculation, threw great doubt on the possibility of carrying out the work. He estimated the level of the Red Sea to be nearly 33ft. higher than that of the Mediterranean, an idea that Leibnitz ridiculed nearly a century before. Vigorous protests against LepÈre’s theory were not wanting, but it was, nevertheless, sufficient to cause the abandonment of the scheme until Monsieur Lesseps directed his attention to the matter. On his appointment as an AttachÉ to the French Mission, Lesseps had to undergo a lengthy quarantine at Alexandria; here he was supplied with books by his Consul, among them being LepÈre’s memoirs respecting the scheme for connecting the two seas, the effect of which upon the young Frenchman’s mind was never effaced.In 1847 a Commission of Engineers demonstrated the inaccuracy of LepÈre’s observations, and proved that the level of the two seas was practically the same. In 1854 Lesseps having matured his plan laid it before the Viceroy, who determined to carry it out. Palmerston, then premier, did his utmost, from political motives, to thwart the enterprise; but early in 1856 permission was given to commence the work.

Considerable difficulty was experienced in raising the capital, but on the 25th April, 1858, operations were actually begun. The Viceroy undertook to pay many of the current expenses, and provided 25,000 workmen, who were to be paid and fed by the Company at an inexpensive rate, and were to be relieved every three months. In order to provide these men with water 4,000 casks suitable for being carried on camels had to be made, and 1,600 of these animals were daily employed in bringing supplies, at a cost of £320 per day.

At the end of December, 1863, the Fresh Water Canal was completed, by which the Company was relieved of the enormous expense of supplying the workmen with water.

On the 18th March, 1869, the water of the Mediterranean was allowed to flow into the nearly dry salt-incrusted basins of the Bitter Lakes, some parts of which lay forty feet below the level of the Mediterranean, while others required extensive dredging operations. The Bitter Lakes have been identified with the Marah of the Bible (Exodus xv., 23—“And when they came to Marah, they could not drink of the waters of Marah for they were bitter”). The captain of our vessel informed me that in these lakes the saltness, and consequently the density, of the water is such as to cause the vessel to rise five inches above the ordinary waterline.

The cost of constructing the Canal amounted to about £19,000,000, more than a third of which was contributed by the Khedive. The original capital of the company in 400,000 shares amounted to £8,000,000, the difference being raised by loans payable at fixed intervals, and adding an annual burden to the scheme of £451,000. The festivities connected with the opening of the Canal in 1869 cost the Khedive—that is to say the taxpayer of Egypt—£14,200,000, or more than half the total capital!

The great mercantile importance of the Canal is apparent from the following data:—Between London and Bombay forty-four per cent. of the distance is saved by through-going ships; between London and Hong Kong twenty-eight per cent., and between Marseilles and Bombay fifty-nine per cent. Over eighty per cent. of the trade passing through the Canal is done in British vessels, and in 1875—or six years after the Canal was opened—the English traffic was equal to twelve times that of the French.

In 1870, 486 steamers, representing 493,911 tons, passed through the canal, and in 1882 these figures had risen to 3,198 steamers with 7,125,000 tons. (Baedeker).

From Port SaÏd the Canal runs in a nearly straight line to Kantara (a mere group of sheds), its course lying across the shallow lagoon-like Lake Menzaleh, which has an average depth of only three feet. The embankments are low, irregular sand-banks, formed of the dredged material, and having at the margin of the water a coarse growth of straggling sedgy-looking vegetation. After passing Kantara, the Balah Lakes are reached, and the course is marked out in their open surface by a double line of buoys. Then the most difficult portion of the original work is reached—viz., the cutting of El Guisr, which is six miles long, the depth from ground-level to surface of water being about forty-five feet. This is by far the highest land in the Isthmus. Leaving the El Guisr cutting, the open waters of Lake Timsah, (Crocodile Lake) are reached, and far away across its blue mirror-like surface stretches the double line of buoys, marking out the track. On the northern shore of the lake, buried in a delightful mass of vegetation, lies the French town of IsmailÏa, once the great centre from which operations during the construction of the Canal were conducted, and now one of the principal stations whence its navigation is controlled by means of telegraph. Lake Timsah has an area of some six or seven square miles, and the huge fleet of war vessels, transports, and tenders which Lord Wolseley used as a base for his operations in the late campaign lay there without difficulty. From Lake Timsah the Suez Canal holds a roughly parallel course with the Freshwater Canal and the Suez line of railway, and passes through a long cutting into the Bitter Lakes, an extremely tame and uninteresting sheet of water some fifteen miles long, with flat, low, sandy banks, and thence into another long cutting—some twenty-six feet deep at Shalouf—after which the flat sandy plains of Suez are traversed, and the head of the gulf reached.The impression is general that the Suez Canal is cut through immense deposits of sand, or sand and water, but this is quite erroneous. The desert, it is true, is sandy and sterile, but the sand is quite superficial, covering a gypseous clay, not at all difficult to work in. From Balah to the Bitter Lakes there is fine muddy sand, with clay at intervals, and at Serapeum a rocky barrier. From the Bitter Lakes to Suez, however, there is a good clay, with limestone at Shalouf. The sinuosities in the Canal are such as to render the passage of vessels over 400 feet long somewhat difficult. It was expected that these curves would prevent the washing away of the banks, but it is doubtful whether they have at all contributed to the preservation of the sandy embankments. Indeed, most of the predictions of the early destruction of the Canal by the operation of natural causes have been proved to be as ill-founded as such predictions generally are. The banks have no ill-regulated propensity for crumbling away. The Canal is not in perpetual and imminent danger of being silted-up. The enormous and costly dredging operations that were to swallow more than the revenue of the undertaking are unknown, and the sole matter for regret is that the Canal was not made as wide again as it is, for the accommodation of the vast traffic it has created. Among the many confident prophesies made by professional engineers of the day, one stands recorded in the technical papers to the effect that every vessel must necessarily be towed through the Canal, the explanation being that the regulation speed of five miles per hour was not sufficient to afford steering “way”; hence, said the prophet, the slightest wind across the line of the Canal must infallibly blow ashore any vessel whose commander should have the temerity to attempt to steam between the two seas. Experience, however, has shown that the largest vessels are under perfect command when propelled by their own engines.

It is impossible for anyone to pass through the Canal without being impressed with the urgent necessity for vastly increased accommodation for the constantly augmenting traffic. The delays occasioned by the difficulties in coaling, the blocks in the Canal—caused sometimes by the enormous traffic, and sometimes by the sinking of a ship across the narrow channel—are most vexatious. No less than five days elapsed between the time of the arrival of our steamer at Port SaÏd and of its departure from Suez, a distance of less than one hundred miles.

In every way it is most unfortunate for English commerce that—thanks to the mulish obstinacy of Lord Palmerston—the management of the Canal should have been thrown into the hands of Frenchmen; for, while according the highest meed of praise to M. de Lesseps for his genius, tenacity of purpose, and energy, in designing and carrying out such a vast undertaking in the teeth of obstacles which would have daunted most men, it is impossible to ignore the fact that, as compared with English traffic-managers, the French officials responsible for the working of the Canal are vastly inferior in capacity. The spirit of officialism as displayed by a liberal use of red tape, and a certain non-elasticity in carrying out the laws, so familiar to all travellers in France, exists in an intensified form in the local management of the Canal. To the ordinary traveller through the Canal, for example, it seems absurd that vessels should be stopped for the night while some hours of light remain, yet as soon as the sun goes down no further advance can be made. Again, although daylight comes long before sunrise, it is forbidden to move till the sun is up. Then again, experience shows that by the use of the electric light the largest vessels can be handled with the utmost ease. An electric light fixed in the foremast of a ship sweeps the Canal from bank to bank, and for all practical purposes gives a light equal to that of day; it seems strange, therefore, that vessels possessing such appliances should not be permitted to proceed during the night. If one ventures to make such a suggestion to a Canal official, he at once replies that the rules laid down for the regulation of the traffic forbid night passages, and if one further ventures to remind him that the said rules were made before the introduction of electric lighting, he shrugs his shoulders and plainly intimates that you have tried his patience long enough.

A little delegation of authority from the chief office to the pilot or other Canal official on board the ships would at once result in a vast diminution of delay, and consequently in an increase to the capability of the Canal, but the genius of French administration appears to be opposed to the granting of any latitude or freedom of action to inferior officials, and so in the administration of the Canal everything is done by the official at the chief office in IsmailÏa, who transmits his orders by telegraph.But, after all the practicable improvements in the navigation of the present Canal have been made, the necessity for a new one will be no less urgent, and it is especially unfortunate that the Conservative party should have made negotiations with M. de Lesseps so difficult by openly suggesting that we should use our accidental supremacy in Egypt to advance the national interests, without regard to the rights possessed by him. Whatever the actual status of M. de Lesseps, under his concession, may be, it is clear that he has always considered he had a monopoly. At the outset he endeavoured to enlist British sympathy and capital in his undertaking by demonstrating that the bulk of the traffic must necessarily come from English sources. Was it probable, therefore, he would have spent the Company’s capital in making the Canal if, after having demonstrated its success, an English company were at liberty to make another, alongside, and take away four-fifths of its traffic?

In business matters the French are proverbially short-sighted. They fail to see that “three sixpences are better than one shilling,” and are consequently unwilling to surrender present advantages without an absolute certainty of an early and great benefit arising from their doing so. They are much more truly a nation of retailers or shopkeepers than the English are, notwithstanding Napoleon’s famous epithet. What is wanted is a greater breadth of view in the administration of the Canal, and it is in this respect that it is particularly unfortunate there is not a larger English representation on the Board of Management. If we had a representation equal to our share of the capital, the result would soon be apparent in the adoption of a line of policy giving the utmost facilities to the Canal’s customers, to the great advantage of both.

The recent discussions upon the Suez Canal question cannot fail to be of the greatest use to the Government when they reopen negotiations with M. de Lesseps, and if the latter finds it impossible to make another canal without a further concession of land, he may probably think it advisable to conciliate his partner and chief customer by making greater concessions in return for the influence of the British Government with that of the Khedive and the Sultan on his behalf.

But even if no further advantages for British commerce be obtained from the Canal Company, this country occupies a unique position as regards communication with the East. In less than fifteen years the whole of the original cost of the British shares, both principal and interest, will have been paid out of profits, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer of the day will have to decide as to the destination of the revenue which the shares produce. It appears to me that, after making provision for the necessary expenses attending the administration of the property, it would be both just and politic to return the balance to the owners of the ships whose use of the Canal has been the means of creating the revenue. If this course be adopted British commerce will be immensely benefited, for our ships will be able to use the Canal at a little more than half the expense falling upon those of other nations, and this great advantage will have been obtained without having cost the British taxpayer a single penny. The money will simply be returned into the hands which contributed it, and the proposal, therefore, does not in any way partake of the character of a bounty.

What is known as the Dual Control was established in 1879. By it the British and French Controllers-General were invested with considerable powers over the administration of the finances, in addition to which the Khedive undertook to assign a certain portion of the revenue for the discharge of the national obligations.

In the following year a Law of Liquidation, as drawn up by the Commissioners appointed for the purpose, was issued with the agreement of all the interested European Powers.

In return for these concessions, the Foreign Bondholders made a compromise with the Egyptian Government involving the surrender of a considerable portion of their claims. This settlement, while relieving the country from an enormous burden, placed it in a position to meet its liabilities and to progress in the development of its resources, and, in the language of Lord Granville in his despatch to Lord Dufferin, “it was undoubtedly working well for the material prosperity of the country, and promised to do so for the future;” and in a subsequent despatch the Foreign Secretary declared that, through the action of the Control, great advantages had been secured for the natives, such as “the spread of education, the abolition of vexatious taxation, the establishment of the land-tax on a regular and equitable basis, and the diminution of forced labour.”

Our dragoman, an intelligent Copt, fully corroborated Lord Granville’s statement. He said that all that the Egyptian people required was moderate taxation, certainty as to its amount and as to the time of its collection, and such a military law as would relieve them from the press-gang. He further said that before the institution of the Control, whenever the Khedive wanted a new ironclad, or a new palace, or half a dozen additional inmates for his harem, he ordered a new tax to be levied; this tax was sold to some of the rapacious pachas about the Palace, and resold by them to professional tax-gatherers. These wretches committed the greatest atrocities upon the miserable fellaheen, exacting the uttermost farthing under the threat, and often the actual application, of torture; “but now,” said my informant, “although the taxes are heavy, their amount is known, and they are collected in coin after the harvest has been gathered.”

The country was becoming very prosperous, and there was a surplus in the Treasury when, in February, 1881, a military riot broke out, originating in the arrest of certain Egyptian officers, among whom was the Colonel of the 1st Regiment. The officers of this regiment broke into the Council Room of the Ministry of War, ill-treated the Minister, and then, having released the prisoners, proceeded to the Khedive’s Palace, followed by the men of the regiment. In menacing tones they demanded the dismissal of the Minister of War, and redress for their grievances. Arabi Bey was one of the chief actors in this revolt. The Khedive was compelled to submit, the mutinous colonels were reinstated, and tranquillity was restored for the time.The army officers were not long, however, in showing what their principal object was, for in a few weeks after the revolt, decrees were issued increasing the pay of the army and navy to the extent of nearly £60,000 a year. The Controllers-General had now become aware that everything was at the disposal of the military party, and that the Minister could not guarantee that the officers would not next day insist upon fresh financial concessions. The next demand made by the colonels was that nominations to vacant posts in regiments should rest with them, and this was granted. The object of all this was clear enough—indeed, Arabi declared at one of the meetings of the Commission that “he would not yield unconditional obedience to the War Minister.” As time went on fresh symptoms of disaffection broke out, all indicating the determination of the military party to throw off all control and restraint. In September the Ministry was dismissed at the instance of these same men, who throughout the remainder of the year continued a harassing series of turbulent outbreaks, gradually increasing in audacity, and more and more trenching upon matters of administration. They went so far as to demand an increase in the army, involving an annual addition to the estimates of £280,000, although the Controllers declared that not nearly half that amount was available.

The principal figure in all these outbreaks was Arabi, who steadily kept himself at the head of the disaffected party, and gradually increased his influence. After being appointed Under Secretary of War, then Chief Secretary, he was described by Sir E. Malet as having become “Arbiter of the destinies of the country.” In March he was made Pasha, and the Khedive was compelled to assent to a number of promotions by Arabi, who insisted on dispensing with the examination required by law for officers. In a word, the real power had become vested in the chiefs of the military party, and the objects of those chiefs were showing themselves more and more evidently to be, increase of the army, increase of pay and promotion of a large number of officers to high military rank—the desire of all such men in every country of the world.

In the following month Arabi caused numerous arrests to be made among the officers and soldiery in consequence of an alleged conspiracy to murder him. Among the prisoners was the Minister of War, who had been dismissed at the demand of the mutinous regiments in the previous February. The prisoners were tried by a court-martial—irregularly constituted—and the proceedings were kept secret, while no counsel were allowed for the defence. It was generally believed that torture had been used to extort confession. Forty officers were condemned to exile for life to the farthest limits of the Soudan. The Khedive, with great courage, refused to sanction the sentence, and issued a decree commuting it to simple banishment from Egypt.

In the meantime the excitement continued to increase, and the Governments of France and England decided to send a naval force to Alexandria for the protection of the interests of their subjects in Egypt. The combined fleet arrived at Alexandria on the 20th of May. On June 11th the great riot and massacre of Europeans took place, Arabi in the meanwhile erecting new earthworks and strengthening the forts, in spite of his repeated assurances to the contrary. On July 11th, the French fleet having withdrawn, and twenty-four hours’ notice having expired, Admiral Seymour opened fire on the forts, and after a few hours completely silenced them; not, however, without his ships having suffered considerably in the encounter.

The above is a sketch of Arabi’s career from the time of his first coming into public notice to the time when he became Dictator. He was at no pains to conceal his character as a military adventurer, and every successive step in his career proves him to have been no other. It is true that during the last few weeks he appeared to carry the country with him, which, however, is not difficult to account for, seeing that he was “master of the legions,” and that detachments of the army had been sent out into the highways and byways to compel men to come in at the point of the bayonet. In ordinary times it is no uncommon thing to see a chain-gang going through the streets of Egyptian towns composed, not of criminals, but of unhappy wretches brought in by the press-gang for service in the army, and should any of them falter in their steps through weariness or despair, the heavy stick of the driver is always ready to descend upon their shoulders. The only effect of the success of the movement headed by Arabi would have been the perpetuation and extension of this terrible state of things; and yet this is the man who has been persistently held up to the admiration of the world as a pure-minded patriot by a large section of what is called the Peace Party in England. In the towns Arabi and his agents worked upon the cupidity of the lower orders by telling them that he intended to drive the foreigners into the sea, and that their property should be given over to a general loot. In the country districts, where the fellaheen are ground down under the heel of the usurer—always a foreigner, as the Koran forbids usury—Arabi promised to cancel the village debts, and banish the usurers; [259a] while in Upper Egypt, where usury is less common, he appealed to Mohammedan fanaticism. But nowhere did he appeal to a national sentiment, [259b] until, indeed, by various devices, he had become absolute master of the country, when perhaps he thought he might say L’Etat, c’est moi.