The war broke out. It is customary to lay to the charge of
Mohammed Ahmed all the blood that was spilled. To my mind it seems that
he may divide the responsibility with the unjust rulers who oppressed
the land, with the incapable commanders who muddled away the lives of
their men, with the vacillating Ministers who aggravated the misfortunes.
But, whatever is set to the Mahdi's account, it should not be forgotten
that he put life and soul into the hearts of his countrymen, and freed
his native land of foreigners. The poor miserable natives, eating only
a handful of grain, toiling half-naked and without hope, found a new,
if terrible magnificence added to life. Within their humble breasts the
spirit of the Mahdi roused the fires of patriotism and religion. Life
became filled with thrilling, exhilarating terrors. They existed in
a new and wonderful world of imagination. While they lived there were
great things to be done; and when they died, whether it were slaying the
Egyptians or charging the British squares, a Paradise which they could
understand awaited them. There are many Christians who reverence
the faith of Islam and yet regard the Mahdi merely as a commonplace
religious impostor whom force of circumstances elevated to notoriety.
In a certain sense, this may be true. But I know not how a genuine
may be distinguished from a spurious Prophet, except by the measure of
his success.
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