Have I any right to speak of Egypt? Have I any leiui standi in the matter? Well, I think I have—the right of writing, besides, is just as good as the right of not reading, and, cela pose, why should an outsider, however ignorant, not speak out his mind when he honestly endeavours to be impartial, and when he knows that he is thoroughly honest in his views? The Egyptian question is a subject in which Russia has no other interest but that of the maintenance of general peace and the welfare of humanity. It is easy for Russians to be impartial. Descend upon London from the outward world with a fresh mind, and you will find every one in such a state of bemuddlement and confusion, so bewildered and puzzled, that it is really nothing but an act of involuntary charity to try to recall to the mind some of those simple facts which, for the moment, are apparently quite forgotten. The first is an historical fact: How did England’s troubles in Egypt begin? Because Lord Beaconsfield’s Government dethroned Ismail Pasha. There is talk about this Control and that Control; but while Ismail reigned in Cairo there was at least peace and order in the country. A celebrated Belgian author gave me lately a description of the security he found in Egypt in Ismail’s time, which, as he said, “could hardly be found in London.” All the present plagues of Egypt resulted from that act of usurpation. England sent Ismail away, and set up Tewfik in his stead. She has had to fight a campaign to save that weakling from exile, and she will have to annex the country to keep him on his throne. If in Egypt, as in Afghanistan, Mr. Gladstone had reversed the policy of his predecessor, England might not have now the laurels of Tel-el-Kebir, but neither, on the other hand, would she have had to face her present dilemma. The Beaconsfield policy clings like a Nessus’ shirt to your empire, and wherever it lingers it burns.

The next fact, which nearly every one seems to ignore, is that if you want Egypt to be governed on English principles, it must be governed by Englishmen. But if you really intend to allow Egypt to be governed by Egyptians, it seems somewhat absurd to banish from the country the only Egyptian who can govern, who has not lost his prestige in the eyes of his countrymen. Strength is the first essential of government in the East, and you persist in keeping on the throne a Prince who is weakness itself. No doubt, as some Anglo-Egyptians have assured me, to England and France weakness was more desirable than strength in a Khedive. Very well. But do not complain, then, over the disadvantages of your choice. “Tu l’as voulu. . . . .” You wanted a pliable creature, and you have got him. But it is just because he is as wax in your hands that he is not only without power in his country, but that he is thoroughly despised by his subjects. Of course it is a question for England to decide. If Englishmen want to govern Egypt themselves, they must keep their cipher on the throne. But Europe was assured no end of times that your consuming desire was to get out of the country. As soon as possible, then, reverse the Beaconsfield policy courageously, and send back the ex-Khedive, “whose very appearance on Egyptian soil would compel all the Arabs to kneel before him,” as I was assured by a Russian who does not particularly care for the dethroned Viceroy, but who cares much for the logic of events. This is now become the test of your sincerity. If you really mean Egypt for the Egyptians, restore Ismail Pasha. Any other solution is only a decorous disguise of Egypt for the English, Egypt for the French, or Egypt for Europe.

“What! Pharaoh!’’ exclaimed one of my friends indignantly. And why not? I should like to know. A Pharaoh is at least a more natural personage on the Nile than a British resident playing the part of a prompter to an ignorant Prince. “But Ismail the Tyrant!” Well, I am not going to dispute about his value. Pashas are seldom angels, and I do not think revolutions are crushed with sweet lullabies. But after all, is there any tyranny so oppressive, so intolerable, as anarchy? Would not the fellaheen rather be punished by a high-handed fellow-countryman than be left a prey to brigandage by Englishmen, even of the most advanced Liberalism and the most humanitarian dispositions?

“The finances!” Is Ismail, then, the only ruler in Egypt who has allowed the finances to fall into confusion? Others, I fear, besides the ex-Khedive, have discovered the impossibility in Egypt of making revenue equal expenditure. If it is not so, why the newly summoned Conference? “England wants to get out of Egypt,’’ they tell me on all hands, and “Englishmen daily grow more and more hostile to annexation, however disguised.” “What, then, is the alternative to annexation?” “Anarchy,” say some. “French occupation,” say others. But there is another course. If you restore Ismail Pasha you will avoid annexation and suppress anarchy. I know nothing of Egypt personally, but from all I have learned from those of my own countrymen who have lived there for years, and from what Englishmen, from General Gordon downward, have said, I believe that the mere presence of Ismail Pasha in the country would procure a great calm. The need of Egypt is not advice, but action; the time of advice is already past. Ismail would act. His word would be law, and if you would but guarantee him against foreign intervention he would soon answer for order among his own people.

Nothing is so strange as the curious forgetfulness in England of the fact that Egypt is not Christian, but Mussulman. The Madhi’s movement is bringing that forgotten fact once more into prominence. If it is to be checked, except by English bayonets, it must be checked by Mussulmans. General Gordon saw this, and demanded Zebehr. The situation will soon not be less serious in Egypt. Whether it is not to become even more serious depends upon England’s seeing this and facing the rising tide of southern fanaticism by a native Mussulman, strong enough to command respect and capable of resisting attack. Who is there but Ismail who answers to those conditions? But Tewfik, the wretched Khedive, what of him? I am sorry for the poor man. You have done a good deal for him. You have bombarded Alexandria and fought Tel-el-Kebir and Teb and Tamasi, and keep nearly 10,000 of your soldiers locked up in Egypt to take care of him, and still he cannot stand on his legs. Is the experiment not yet conclusive, or must a second conquest of Egypt demonstrate the impossibility of governing a Mussulman province by a Prince who is notoriously the mere tool of the Infidel? Unless you get rid of Tewfik, Egypt will never get rid of you. You have to choose which alternative you prefer, and which fits best your duty and your interest.

As for the European difficulty, that is not serious. France would agree to anything that gets England out of Egypt, and if England and France agree the Central European Powers are not likely to object to the solution which would secure order in Egypt and peace in Europe. Russia at all events could not object to any solution which would prevent the reopening of the Eastern Question. The difficulty does not lie with Europe but with England. Your pledges to Tewfik, your amour propre, stand in the way. If they are insuperable, you will have to take Egypt with all its plagues. But if they are not, then уour way out is easy and simple. Restore Ismail Pasha, and protect Egypt from foreign invasion by a united European guarantee similar to that which secured the freedom and independence of Belgium in 1830. This may be a bad solution, if you please; but there is no good solution, and this seems to be not only the most logical, but the least bad of all that have yet been suggested.

O.K.