The White Prophet, Volume 1 (of 2)Caine, Hall, Sir
General
The White Prophet, Volume 1 (of 2)
Caine, Hall, Sir
British -- Egypt -- Fiction; Egypt -- Fiction
The passionate words were hotly, almost aggressively spoken, but in some
unfathomable depth of the father’s heart the old man was proud of his
son at that moment—strong, fearless, and right.
"And the sermon in public—was that also on the corruptions of Islam?"
"No, sir, it was about the spirit of the world—the greed of wealth which
is making people forget in these days that the true welfare of a nation
is moral, not material."
"Anything else?"
"Yes—the hope of a time when the world will have so far progressed
towards peace that arms will be laid down and a Redeemer will come to
proclaim a universal brotherhood."
"That didn’t strike you as ridiculous—to see one unlettered man trying
to efface the laws of civilised society—asking sensible people to turn
their backs on the facts of life in order to live in a spiritual
hothouse of dreams?"
"No, Father, that did not strike me as ridiculous, because——"
"Because—what—what now?"
"Because John the Baptist and Jesus Christ did precisely the same
thing."
There was silence for a moment, and then the old. man said-
"In this golden age that is to come, he predicts, I am told, a peculiar
place for Egypt—is that so?"
"Yes, sir. He holds that in the commonwealth of the world, Egypt, by
reason of her geographical position, will become the interpreter and
peacemaker between the East and the West—that that’s what she has lived
so long for."
"Yet it didn’t occur to you that this was sedition in its most seductive
form, and that the man who promulgated it was probably the most
dangerous of the demagogues—the worst of the Egyptians who prate about
the natives governing themselves and the English being usurping
foreigners?"
"No, sir, that didn’t occur to me at all, because I felt that a Moslem
people had a right to their own ideals, and also because I thought——"
"Well? Well?"
"That the man who imagines that the soul of a nation can be governed by
the sword—whoever he is, King, Kaiser, or—or Czar—is the worst of
tyrants."
The old autocrat flinched visibly. The scene was becoming tragic to
him. For forty years he had been fighting his enemies, and he had
beaten them, and now suddenly his own son was standing up as his foe.
After a moment of silence he rose and said, with stony gravity—
"Very well! Having heard your views on Ishmael Ameer, and incidentally
on myself and all I have hitherto attempted to do in Egypt, it only
remains to me to tell you what I intend to do now. You know that this
man is coming on to Cairo?"
Gordon bowed.
"You are probably aware that it is intended that he shall preach at El
Azhar?"
"I didn’t know that, sir, but I’m not surprised to hear it."
"Well, El Azhar has to be closed before he arrives."
"Closed?"
"That is what I said—closed, shut up, and its students and professors
turned into the streets."
"But there are sixteen thousand of them—from all parts of the Mohammedan
world, sir."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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