Egypt was in a state of turmoil 200 years ago. The French expedition to the country had ended in defeat, but the power vacuum caused by the collapse of Ottoman power in Egypt had led to a prolonged period of instability. During this time, the young chief of the Ottoman troops, Mohamed Ali, emerged as a power-broker in his own right. Through a rare mix of affability and ruthlessness, he managed to ingratiate himself into the ruling class of the ulema and Mamluks. The annals of the contemporary historian Abdel-Rahman Al-Gabarti offer us a blow-by-blow account of these turbulent years. His description is as fast-paced as it is animated, and his grasp of the subtle shifts of power is unparalleled. Reading what Al-Gabarti wrote 200 years ago is like reading contemporary events unfolding before your eyes, complete with intrigue and defiance, plotting and counter-plotting. Mohamed Ali, at the time just called “the pasha”, was undoubtedly an extraordinary man. By the time he was declared wali, or viceroy, by the Ottomans in the summer of 1805, he had already made himself indispensable to the confusing motley of groups then vying for power. He rose to power with the blessings of the religious leaders and the Mamluk chieftains, but in a few years he was able to grab more power than his Mamluk predecessors had ever had. He then propelled the country not only into modernity, but also into a period of sustained military conquests abroad. This extraordinary story is one that can be enjoyed today by reading the melodious and scrupulously well-researched writings of Al-Gabarti. The latter's patriotic zeal and piety adds realism to his account. Even before Mohamed Ali rose to power, Al-Gabarti was already reporting on the turbulence the French Expedition had caused in Egypt. The country had been sleeping a deep sleep over previous decades, and, a bit of political rivalry and some epidemics aside, the country was prosperous and relatively stable. Then the French invasion under the young general Napoleon Bonaparte arrived, and everything started to go haywire. Even the venerable mosque and academy of Al-Azhar was not spared by the French, who rode into it on horseback. Their firepower, used at random to quell an uprising against them in Cairo, shocked the populace, and Al-Gabarti's description of the havoc is far from being detached. “When the bombs fell upon them, the people panicked, for they had never seen such things before,” he wrote. “They prayed to the All Merciful for protection, and they pleaded with the All Knowing to spare them from such horrors.” Reading Al-Gabarti's detailed account of such happenings today in a prose that is often flat but at the same time is often deeply felt and sentimental, one gets a real sense of how Egyptians must have felt 200 years ago during such a period of turmoil and despair. Towards Mohamed Ali himself, Al-Gabarti felt a mixture of admiration and awe. Of Albanian origin, he was proving himself to be not only a brilliant field commander, but also a shrewd politician. He may have been illiterate (he learned to read and write at the age of 40), but this man who had come to Egypt as the deputy-commander of a small Ottoman force was already rising as a power-broker in the country and on Egypt's increasingly fluid political scene. Al-Gabarti was impressed when Mohamed Ali advised the Mamluks to abandon their flowing robes in favour of a French-style dress that gave them better mobility. As soon as he took power, he created an administrative council, or diwan, to help him run state affairs. Yet, when Mohamed Ali started appointing non-Egyptians to high state offices, Al-Gabarti was annoyed. Despite his admiration for Mohamed Ali, he did not like to see the pasha's countrymen, the “Arnaouts” he called them, a word commonly used to indicate Albanians working for the Ottoman authorities, being given senior posts in Egypt. Al-Gabarti writes that Mohamed Ali's customs chief was Armenian, and that the “Arnaouts” were being given top posts in the military. In a patriotic tone, Al-Gabarti writes that “they became the lords of the land. The lowest among them rose to the highest places. They dressed in fancy clothes and they rode on mules and expensive horses. They sequestrated the houses of dignitaries in Masr Al-Qadima [Fustat], and they redecorated them and added gardens and orchards... You could see a dog of them riding in procession, with servants running before and after him to keep pedestrians away.” However, Mohamed Ali's administration was not all about taking power for the Albanians. He also had plans for the country, and he was the first to send Egyptian students to Europe to learn about modern science, engineering, and medicine. It is true, however, that most of the subjects covered by such missions were those most useful for military purposes, the area in which he, a professional soldier, was most interested. Al-Gabarti noted, not without a hint of a grudge, that the pasha was capable of charitable behaviour. “If God were to afford him a sense of justice to crown his resolution, leadership, courage, prudence, and diligence, he would be the marvel of his time and a man of unique qualities.” Local talent was also not lacking in Egypt at the time, and Al-Gabarti tells the story of one of his contemporaries, an inventor whose brilliance impressed the pasha. This man was Hussein Shalabi Agwa, and of him Al-Gabarti writes that “Mohamed Ali had heard that an Egyptian had invented a machine for threshing rice and bleaching it, and he therefore summoned him, gave him money, and told him to go to Damietta and establish a factory there. He ordered other officials to give the man all the wood, iron, and building materials he wanted. When Agwa had built the factory and everything was underway, the pasha gave him a cash reward and sent him to build another factory in Rosetta.” Sampling Al-Gabarti's diary, one feels the immediacy of life at the time, with its constant pressures, its urgencies, and the risks experienced by both the political elite and the ordinary people. “30 December 1803: they fired many guns from the Citadel and other areas when the news came of the death of Hussein Pasha [the Ottoman admiral].” “3 January 1804: reports came that Al-Alfi Bey was going to travel to meet the pasha accompanied by four platoons. He set up camp in Giza near Imbaba and brought in ammunition, bread, and stores of weapons.” “7 January 1804: Al-Alfi Bey and those with him crossed onto the eastern shore. The pasha was said to have left for Menoufiya. Hearing that, they crossed to the eastern shore, then set up camp in Shubra. They also started some bakeries in Shalkan. A man called Saleh Effendi arrived in Egypt carrying a firman [Ottoman decree]. He was invited to stay in the house of Radwan, the chief of staff of Ibrahim Bey. The emissary is not meeting with anyone.” Al-Gabarti was opposed to almost all taxes, and in his history he often rants about the injustice of the tax collectors. “The pasha arrived in Menoufiya, where his officials imposed a tax on the land and proceeded to consume all the crops,” he writes at one point. “The month only ended after a lot of bullying of the populace by the Arnaouts [Albanian soldiers], who took to stealing people's turbans, especially at night. As a result, it a man went out for a walk, he would tie up his turban in order to protect it.” “If the Arnaouts corner anyone, they steal his clothes and his money. They are known to stalk those who frequent the markets, such as the Imbaba Market on Saturday, to buy cheese, butter, sheep, and cows, and steal people's money. Then they raid the market and rob the peasants of everything they have brought to sell.” Behaviour of this sort began to damage the economy, sending the prices of basic commodities through the roof, Al-Gabarti wrote. “The peasants stopped selling their produce except rarely and in secret. The price of butter went up to 350 nesf-faddas [the currency of the time] for a three-pound slab. Hay became dearer than gold, a qantar [a variable measure equivalent in this case to about 50kg] fetching some 1,000 nesf-faddas, and that was when it could be found at all. Turkish firewood has also become scarce, and one load costs 300 nesf-faddas. Other kinds of firewood are also hard to come by.” As the prices of fuel, including dung and hay, shot up, the “Arnaouts” became even more predatory. Peasants began taking precautions, trading only in secret and under cover of darkness. But the “Arnaouts” kept up their killing and stealing. “They would lie in wait to kidnap and kill people, sometimes even killing each other. They didn't fast in Ramadan. One is not sure whether they have any respect for religion of any sort. It is common for them to kill people and to steal money. They don't even follow the orders of their own chiefs, these mean and foul people, may they be smitten by God.” Typical entries from Al-Gabarti's chronicle describing the depredations of the Albanian soldiers read: “15 January 1804: a merchant from the Wekalet Al-Toffah [the Apple Caravansaray], was followed by three [Arnaout] soldiers. He ran into the Al-Tanbari Baths to escape. But they followed him inside, killed him and took his money. On the same day, the pasha arrived in Shalkan with many soldiers, including the [Ottoman] Janissaries. He had 60 boats in the river, carrying his belongings and the supplies of his soldiers. On the same day, Al-Alfi Bey and the rest of the emirs [Mamluk chieftains] went to their camp in Shubra, but Ibrahim Bey and Al-Bardisi stayed behind.” “16 January 1804: fully-armed soldiers have been stationed at the city gates. The people are worried and they have started bolting the gates to their neighbourhoods and removing merchandise from the shops. Rumours are spreading. The soldiers standing at the gates have started taking money from those entering and leaving the city. They search pockets and ask for travel papers, and then they use this as an excuse to rob people.” “17 January 1804: they have changed the soldiers to a group of enlisted Egyptians, and a kashef, or tax-farmer, sits at every gate with a number of military men. The tax collector at the Bab Al-Fotouh takes money from anyone passing through. If the man is dressed in peasant garb and looks poor, they take anything they find in his pockets, or at least fine him 10 nesf-faddas. A rich person, on the other hand, even one wearing old clothes, is asked to pay 1,000 nesf-faddas, or he is held prisoner until his family pays to free him.” “They have blocked Bab Al-Wazir and Bab Al-Mahrouk. They have locked Bab Al-Barqiya, also called Bab Al-Gharib. First they thought about blocking it with stone, but then they changed their minds because this is the gate through which the deceased are taken to the cemeteries.” As the country descended into lawlessness, the rulers of Cairo began to enforce a new set of security measures. “Criers were sent around the city ordering the populace to light lanterns at night in front of their houses and caravansaries,” Al-Gabarti writes. “Every third shop must have a lantern burning at night.” “25 January 1804: soldiers arrived in the morning to escort the pasha to Belbeis and Al-Salhiya. When he arrived at the camp of the [Mamluk] emirs, Osman Bey Al-Bardisi sent him a cow and 1,000 gold pieces as a gift.” The pasha reacted by making a speech, which is dutifully recorded by Al-Gabarti. “When I attained a position of authority in Egypt, my first priority was to befriend the Egyptian emirs because I owed them a favour from when I came to this country during my flight from Tripoli. They hosted me and were kind to me. And I stayed with them a long time and was treated with generosity,” Mohamed Ali said. The Mamluks were touched by his words, Al-Gabarti tells us. “They had not forgotten the time they had spent with him, especially his friendship with Mourad Bey, who had been like a brother to him and had enjoyed talking with him and riding out with him to hunt. But they were not happy with the pasha's Arnaout soldiers, or with his ties with the Arab tribes.” Mohamed Ali tried to reassure the Mamluks of his good intentions, telling them that “these things happened in the past, so let us let bygones be bygones.” He stayed with the Mamluk chieftains for three days in a tent near that of Al-Bardisi. But the tensions that led to a breakdown in relations a few years later were already taking shape. “In the night near Al-Bardisi's camp, a horseman came out of [Mohamed Ali's] dwelling, riding out of the camp at such high speed that the horses neighed and the guards were alarmed and tried to catch him but couldn't do so.” When he was asked about the incident, the pasha dismissed it, saying “perhaps the man was a thief who had wanted to steal something and then ran away.” Soon afterwards, the Mamluk chieftains positioned sentries around Mohamed Ali's tent, presumably “for protection.” Yet, despite such precautions the Mamluks' grip on power was loosening. Just seven years later, Mohamed Ali launched a bloody purge, massacring the leading Mamluks at the Citadel in Cairo and hunting down their followers across the country. Out of this turmoil and bloodshed, and as a result of the tenacity and cruelty of one man, Egypt shed its last vestiges of mediaevalism and took its first steps towards modernity.
