The Journals of Major-Gen. C. G. Gordon, C.B., at Kartoum. — Story, Setting & Ideas

A Voice of Exasperation and Precision

Gordon's diction oscillates between bureaucratic exactness and raw frustration. He records the number of desertions, the weight of biscuits issued ('15,000 okes'), and the distance of Arab camps ('about five miles from the city'), but he also vents: 'It is indeed hopeless work, and yet, truly, they have been treated most handsomely in every way.' The word 'worry' recurs—'Our breastworks at Tuti are bothering the Arabs'—and he uses the phrase 'I may truly say I am weary of my life' without melodrama, as a statement of fact. His irritation is often directed at subordinates: a soldier who deserted 'with his rifle,' an officer who 'never told me' about a desertion, and 'that brute Nutzer Bey or Pasha' who disobeyed orders about the steamers. The journals are a record of command fatigue as much as military events.

The Siege as a Paper Trail

The journals are filled with references to orders given, orders disobeyed, and the difficulty of getting reliable information. Gordon writes that it 'seems perfectly impossible to find out the truth, or even the number of Shaggyeh there are.' He repeats orders 'two, and even three, times' and threatens to cancel a pasha's appointment. The text is also a repository of correspondence: letters from Abdel Kader, Slatin Bey, and others are copied into the appendices, and Gordon often summarizes reports from deserters or captured messengers. The reader sees a commander trying to govern through paper in a situation where paper has little force. The entry for November 22 includes a conditional threat: if the expedition comes and orders evacuation, 'I will resign, and have nothing more to do with the Government.' This is not a diary of introspection but of administrative resistance.

Tactical Details and the Weight of Numbers

Gordon's eye for concrete detail is evident in his descriptions of fortifications and enemy positions. He notes a 'breastwork towards Goba, on the Isle of Tuti' and the location of Arab camps: 'Camp C is on river. A is one mile from river; camp D and E are three to four miles from the river.' He estimates the enemy's strength as '3000 to 4000 fighting men, and 600 horsemen to 800 horsemen in the whole lot.' The numbers are precise but often qualified—'perhaps,' 'it appears'—reflecting the uncertainty of intelligence. He also records the toll on his own force: 'Up to date we have had, passing through the hospital, 242 wounded. We have had some 1800 to 1900 killed.' These figures are given without commentary, as if the numbers speak for themselves. The journals are a ledger of attrition.

The Editor's Frame and the Reader's Position

The edition, prepared by A. Egmont Hake and published in 1885, includes an introduction, notes, and a preface acknowledging the help of Mr. Godfrey Thrupp. Hake notes that the public demand made completion 'in so short a time impossible' without assistance. The volume also contains a 'Description of the Journal' by Sir Henry W. Gordon, the general's brother, and a map showing the 'Position of the Steamers, Dec. 14, 1884.' The reader is thus given multiple frames: the journals themselves, the editor's contextual notes, and a brother's commentary. This layered presentation means that Gordon's voice is never heard in isolation; it is always mediated by those who survived him and sought to shape his legacy. The appendices, which include letters from the Mahdi's commanders and from European captives like Slatin Bey, extend the documentary record beyond Gordon's own perspective.

These journals are best read as a working document rather than a narrative. Gordon's prose is functional, repetitive, and often angry, but it is also the only direct record we have of his thinking during the siege. The reader should pay attention to what he chooses to record—numbers, distances, insubordinations—and what he leaves out. The editorial apparatus, while helpful, also imposes a shape on material that is inherently fragmentary. Approach the text as a primary source that is both revealing and opaque, and let Gordon's own voice, with its mixture of precision and despair, guide your reading.

There’s a strange echo between Gordon’s clipped, weary notes and the way that San Francisco Relief Survey; the organization and methods of relief used after the earthquake and fire of April 18, 1906 — Edition Insights reads like a long exhale after a city’s collapse. Both feel like someone trying to hold chaos together with lists and patience. I keep thinking about that quiet, stubborn effort.