It might seem at first a great advantage that the peoples of the Soudan, instead of being a multitude of wild, discordant tribes, should unite of their own accord into one strong community, actuated by a common spirit, living under fixed laws, and ruled by a single sovereign.  But there is one form of centralised government which is almost entirely unprogressive and beyond all other forms costly and tyrannical—­the rule of an army.  Such a combination depends, not on the good faith and good will of its constituents, but on their discipline and almost mechanical obedience.  Mutual fear, not mutual trust, promotes the co-operation of its individual members.  History records many such dominations, ancient and modern, civilised or barbaric; and though education and culture may modify, they cannot change their predominant characteristics—­a continual subordination of justice to expediency, an indifference to suffering, a disdain of ethical principles, a laxity of morals, and a complete ignorance of economics.  The evil qualities of military hierarchies are always the same.  The results of their rule are universally unfortunate.  The degree may vary with time and place, but the political supremacy of an army always leads to the formation of a great centralised capital, to the consequent impoverishment of the provinces, to the degradation of the peaceful inhabitants through oppression and want, to the ruin of commerce, the decay of learning, and the ultimate demoralisation even of the military order through overbearing pride and sensual indulgence.

Of the military dominations which history records, the Dervish Empire was probably the worst.  All others have displayed compensating virtues.  A high sense of personal honour has counterbalanced a low standard of public justice.  An ennobling patriotism may partly repair economic follies.  The miseries of the people are often concealed by the magnificence of the army.  The laxity of morals is in some degree excused by the elegance of manners.  But the Dervish Empire developed no virtue except courage, a quality more admirable than rare.  The poverty of the land prevented magnificence.  The ignorance of its inhabitants excluded refinement.  The Dervish dominion was born of war, existed by war, and fell by war.  It began on the night of the sack of Khartoum.  It ended abruptly thirteen years later in the battle of Omdurman.  Like a subsidiary volcano, it was flung up by one convulsion, blazed during the period of disturbance, and was destroyed by the still more violent shock that ended the eruption.

After the fall of Khartoum and the retreat of the British armies the Mahdi became the absolute master of the Soudan.  Whatever pleasures he desired he could command, and, following the example of the founder of the Mohammedan faith, he indulged in what would seem to Western minds gross excesses.  He established an extensive harem for his own peculiar use, and immured therein the fairest captives of the