When in September 1881, an Egyptian born officer, Colonel Arabi Pasha, rose up against the Khedive and demanded the dismissal of all his ministers, the condominium powers, France and Great Britain, could not decide what action, if any, they should take. About the only thing on which they were agreed was that Turkey should not be allowed to intervene which was more than a little high-handed of them given that Egypt, nominally at least, was still part of the Ottoman Empire. But since the purchase of the Suez Canal shares in 1875, the Egyptian authorities had been obliged to pay far more attention to edicts from London and Paris than to those corning from Constantinople.
Arabi Pasha chose his time well. He had succeeded in rousing his countrymen against the power clique of Turks and Levantines who surrounded the now powerless Khedive. He had most of the Egyptian army behind him and. despite his anti-European attitudes, he had won the sympathy of many liberally-minded people in Britain and France who saw him as a national liberator, ready to throw off the Turkish yoke. In January 1892 he struck again by engineering what was virtually a coup d'état Singlehandedly he imposed a new constitution, sacked the prime minister and awarded himself the post of' minister of war. Once again Britain and France looked on helpless with indecision. A series of talks was hurriedly arranged in which all the powers played some part, but since no one had any clear idea of what to do next they were doomed from the outset. Meanwhile, as the tempers of Arabi Pasha's followers rose with the summer heat, things got more and more out of hand.In May 1882 it was decided to send an Anglo French fleet to the great Mediterranean seaport of Alexandria as a precaution against disorder. A few weeks later severe rioting broke out in the city, in which 50 Europeans, including the British consul, were killed and many others wounded. Order was restored by troops loyal to the Khedive, but it was Arabi Pasha who remained in effective control. His men started to fortify Alexandria on a massive scale, building new earthworks and bringing new gun batteries into position aimed at the warships anchored offshore. On 10 June the British admiral, Sir Beauchamp Seymour, threatened that if these new fortifications were not surrendered they would be destroyed by naval bombardment. The French thought otherwise, and promptly ordered the immediate withdrawal of all their ships. Paris, it seems, was still haunted by the defeat of 1870 inflicted by the Prussians and was determined 'to avoid risks outside Europe in order to meet those within it'. Doubtless encouraged to see the French fleet disappearing over the horizon, Arabi Pasha rejected Seymour's ultimatum and awaited further developments. He did not have to wait long, for at 7 am the following morning a salvo from HMS Alexandra crashed into one of the new earthworks, sending clouds of smoke and dust into the clear morning air. This was the signal for the start of a general bombardment, and soon all the 60 and 80 ton guns of the eight British battleships were blazing away at the Egyptian shore positions. Their onslaught was supported by a flotilla of small gunboats, commanded by the dashing Lord Charles Beresford. They made for the shore under the muzzles of the enemy artillery to land naval brigades, whose small arms fire caused heavy casualties among Arabi Pasha's gunners. The Egyptian shore batteries had smaller guns than those mounted on the battleships of the Royal Navy but the action took place at such close range (1,500 yards), that many direct hits were scored. HMS Alexandra, for example, was struck about 60 times but only four members of her crew were killed. A boatswain, Israel Harding, won the VC by seizing an unexploded enemy shell that had penetrated the side of the ship and plunging it into a tank of water thus emulating in almost every respect the gallantry of Charles Lucas, who performed a similar act of valour on board HMS Hecla during the Crimean War to receive the first Victoria Cross to be awarded. By an odd chance, another of the British ships at Alexandria was also an HMS Hecla, but she was a torpedo boat depot ship, launched in 1878, whose main function was to deliver ammunition to the gun vessels. HMS Inflexible also took part in the bombardment: by common consent she was one of the ugliest vessels afloat, with guns so powerful that their recoil and concussion severely damaged the upper works and smashed her boats. After firing 88 of her huge shells she returned to Portsmouth for a refit before another spell of duty in the Mediterranean. From the admiralty's point of view the bombardment of Alexandria was a copybook operation. The forts were destroyed and order restored to the city with minimum loss: another lustrous chapter was added to the already bright annals of the Queen's Navy. Politically, however, the attack was a disaster. Sir Garnet Wolseley later described it as `silly and criminal', for riots broke out in many parts of Egypt and considerable impetus was added to the national movement. The bombardment also marked the start of a British entanglement in Egyptian affairs that lasted more than seventy years. When Arabi Pasha threatened to destroy the Suez Canal `in the defence of Egypt' and to burn down Cairo `rather than surrender', Gladstone felt it necessary to intervene. Such were his powers of persuasion that he was able to convince his fellow Liberals that the only possible course was the despatch of an expeditionary force to `restore law and order' and safeguard the Canal. France was invited to take part in a combined operation, but after the ignominy of Alexandria this was no more than an empty formality. The French cabinet would go no further than a commitment to defend Suez, but even this was too much for the Chamber of Deputies, who threw out the government and declined to have anything more to do with the whole affair. So the British decided to go it alone, which immediately raised the question who should lead the expedition? Garnet Wolseley, now a lieutenant-general and Adjutant-General of the Army, was the obvious choice. But as a champion of reform he had engaged in a long-running quarrel with his C-in-C, the Duke of Cambridge, who loved the Army with an equal passion and did not want to see it changed in any way. `Wolseley is a very pleasant man to deal with when he likes' the Duke told Queen Victoria. `His great fault is that he is so very ambitious. . .' The Queen naturally supported her kinsman. Like the Duke, she saw no need for change in her beloved army, and took the greatest exception to a remark, reportedly made by Wolseley, that if the Prince Consort were alive there would have been Army reform long since. Wolseley himself was fully aware of the situation; in a letter to his wife he bitterly observes: I have done my best for my country, and if my country's sovereign does not appreciate my services, I cannot help it. In the end it was the Duke himself who resolved the dilemma. For all his conservatism he was a fair-minded man of honest character who admired Wolseley's abilities as much as he disagreed with his views. When it became clear that his was the name most likely to go forward from the Secretary of War the Duke sent a private and confidential letter to Her Majesty, in which he said: . . . I do not think it would be advisable to oppose the selection, as I am satisfied that the public will be very pleased with the appointment, and I further think that Wolseley is very decidedly as able a man for the field as we have got. I therefore would suggest that you would graciously accept the submission if made. Wolseley took up his command on 20 July 1882 and immediately started work on his campaign. It says much for his brilliant planning aril characteristic vigour, and for the state of readiness of the British and Indian armies, that in exactly a month he landed a force of 20,000 men in Egypt with huge quantities of equipment, supplies and ammunition. It was, as we should say today, a completely professional operation, that showed the British military machine at its best. The soldiers were well-armed and well supplied, and their morale was of the highest. There could have been no greater vindication of Lord Cardwell's earlier reforms, or stronger evidence of Sir Garnet Wolseley's genius for leadership. Convinced that the British attack would follow the classic Napoleonic route up the River Nile to Cairo, the Egyptians concentrated most of their forces in the delta and along the Mediterranean coast. When Wolseley outflanked them by seizing the Suez Canal and establishing his main base at Ismalia, Arabi Pasha sent the rebel army to the east and strengthened the defences at Tel-el-Kebir, a village about 25 miles away from the Suez Canal, situated between the railway line and the so-called Sweetwater Canal. Together, these represented a crucial strategic link between Ismailia and the Egyptian capital. On high ground above the village had stood for many years an Egyptian army base and other military installations: a fairly steep escarpment bordered the high ground in the south, while to the north it sloped away as table-land. In an otherwise flat and featureless landscape, consisting mainly of sandy and rocky soil, the heights of Tel-el-Kabir formed a natural barrier which Arabi Pasha decided to fortify with an elaborate and extensive network of trenches. There was no shortage of labour to carry out the work: what the Egyptians lacked was time. And although the ambitious plans were never completed, what was achieved was formidable enough: main trench lines to a minimum depth of 5ft, with breastworks as high as 6ft; salients at regular intervals commanding wide fields of fire across the open terrain; to the rear, shallower shelter trenches with well constructed rifle pits, and gun emplacements on the higher ground above. These defences impressed Wolseley, who thought that they would prove 'a very hard nut to crack'. A frontal assault across open terrain against a well-armed and well-equipped enemy would lead to a bloodbath. Not only was it imperative to avoid heavy casualties on purely military grounds, but all Wolseley's instincts as a commander were to achieve his objectives with minimum loss. He and his staff spent four days making a thorough reconnaissance of the position, during which it was discovered that the Egyptians did not man their outposts after dark. This gave Wolseley the key he was looking for. Against all conventional military wisdom he decided on a night march against the enemy, to take him unawares and overrun his positions before he could rally an effective defence. It was an audacious and risky plan because soldiers in the dark, unable to see their officers or NCOs, can quickly lose their bearings and become confused. To carry out such a large and intricate manoeuvre in total silence requires a level of training and discipline of a very high order. One shout in the darkness, one rifle shot accidentally discharged, and the vital element of surprise is lost with unpredictable results. Wolseley knew all this, of course: on the eve of the battle he wrote to his wife - I know that I am doing a dangerous thing, but I cannot wait for reinforcements; to do so would kill the spirit of my troops, which at present is all I could wish it to be . . . If they are steady in the dark a very crucial trial I must succeed. Otherwise I might fail altogether, or achieve very little. You can fancy that this responsibility tells a little upon me, but I don't think arty soul here thinks so ... In the event, these fears were unfounded. The silent army moved forward in the darkest hours before dawn on the morning of 13 September 1982. As the tension mounted, one drunken Scotsman did let out a peal of laughter, but he was quickly suppressed and taken to the rear to sober up. 
The Highlanders failed to get into their proper positions and had the misfortune of coming face-to-face with some of the toughest troops in Arabi's army seasoned fighters from the Sudan who gave no quarter and expected none.But after an initial setback the line held and was steadied by the arrival of a second wave of Highlanders. Meanwhile Drury-Lowes's cavalry had started their advance on the right flank, while the Indian brigade were moving towards the rear to cut off the Egyptian's line of retreat. With artillery support the Highlanders broke through the heavily-defended forward positions, inflicting heavy casualties as they cleared the trenches. They encountered determined opposition, as Charles Royale later reported: The Egyptian soldier displayed real courage. The black regiments, composed of Negroes from the Soudan, were especially notable for their pluck, fighting bravely hand-to-hand with their assailants. Royale was quite clear that had the Egyptian officers shown `more intelligence and less downright cowardice' they could have converted their men into `a formidable army'. 
As the British forces gained the upper hand so there began a general retreat, but many of the fleeing rebels were either cut down by the cavalry or found themselves running on to the guns and lances of the Indian brigade. Within two hours it was all over. For the loss of 57 men killed, with 383 wounded and another 30 missing, Sir Garnet Wolseley had crushed Arabi Pasha and scattered his rebel forces, bringing to an end in less than two months a war that the British government had been reluctant to fight.The road to Cairo, fifty miles away, was now open, and with great daring the British cavalry raced ahead of the main force, persuaded the garrison commander not to offer any resistance and then proceeded to the Citadel to negotiate the final surrender of the city. Arabi Pasha was arrested, to be later banished to a comfortable exile in Ceylon. Meanwhile, on 15 September 1882 at 9.45am General Wolseley, with an escort provided by the Scots Guards, arrived in Cairo by special train. It was a novel and characteristically Victorian way of entering a city in triumph. After Tel-El-Kebir the `most complete and decisive British victory during the whole of Victoria's reign', as one commentator describes it spokesmen of the Liberal party said repeatedly that British forces should leave Egypt now that their military task had been accomplished. There is no reason to doubt their sincerity, and most certainly it was Gladstone's wish. But there were two important reasons why he was unable to follow his political instincts. The first, of course, was the fact that the Suez Canal could not be left undefended, and the second was that Egypt itself was still bankrupt and in turmoil. The problems were so great that if the British had decided on an outright annexation of the country the other major powers would almost certainly have uttered a ritual squawk of protest and then turned a blind eve, each thankful that no part of the responsibility for clearing up the mess was theirs. As it was, Gladstone and his colleagues dithered and it was not until many months had passed that they filled the political vacuum in Cairo by appointing Major Evelyn Baring as British agent and consul-general. He had distinguished himself as finance member of the Viceroy's council in India: suddenly he was recalled to London, presented with a knighthood and sent to Egypt, where he served at the very centre of affairs for more than 23 years. |
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