'If,' he wrote on October 24th, they do not
come before 30th November, the game is up, and Rule Britannia.'
Curious premonitions came into his mind. When he heard that the
Mahdi was approaching in person, it seemed to be the fulfilment
of a destiny, for he had 'always felt we were doomed to come face
to face'. What would be the end of it all? 'It is, of course, on
the cards,' he noted, 'that Khartoum is taken under the nose of
the Expeditionary Force, which will be JUST TOO LATE.' The
splendid hawks that swooped about the palace reminded him of a
text in the Bible: 'The eye that mocketh at his father and
despiseth to obey his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick
it out, and the young eagles shall eat it.' 'I often wonder,' he
wrote, 'whether they are destined to pick my eyes, for I fear I
was not the best of sons.'
So, sitting late into the night, he filled the empty telegraph
forms with the agitations of his spirit, overflowing ever more
hurriedly, more furiously, with lines of emphasis, and capitals,
and exclamation-marks more and more thickly interspersed, so that
the signs of his living passion are still visible to the inquirer
of today on those thin sheets of mediocre paper and in the
torrent of the ink. But he was a man of elastic temperament; he
could not remain forever upon the stretch; he sought, and he
found, relaxation in extraneous matters--in metaphysical
digressions, or in satirical outbursts, or in the small details
of his daily life.
Pages:
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405