“Braggart,” Mariette declared. “Madame Harper, since you rescued my museum’s pieces from further theft, I will purchase for you—”
“Gentlemen,” she demurred. “Please, I wish for peace between you. Your energies are much better put to finding—and preserving—this nation’s antiquities. However, I shall always hold my gifts from you in high esteem.”
With that, the two men bowed and went back to arguing, this time about irrigation projects during the Twelfth Dynasty.
Théophile Gautier stood a short distance away, his expression thoroughly bemused at what had transpired between Violet and the two men. “You have two admirers,” he said generously as Violet approached him.
“Not admirers, but competitors trying to best each other,” she said, shaking her head. “However, the khedive is fortunate to have such passionate Egyptologists working on his behalf.”
“They have the same passion for dead ancients as you do for the dead moderns, eh?” Gautier said with his customary wittiness. “I believe I shall write a play for you entitled Death Conquers All. Clever, non? I’m sure it will play in opera houses all over Europe and lead me to even further greatness. I must find that imbécile Ibsen and tell him that I have beat him to the idea. It has been a pleasure, madame.”
Violet smiled at Gautier’s retreating figure, finding it comical that he did not realize that he and Ibsen were just as competitive as Mariette and Lepsius.
Surely by now the prince was finished settling in aboard Newport. Violet decided she would retrieve Sam so they could board themselves and get under way. Before she reached him, though, she was once more thwarted as the Russian duke stepped into her path.
“I watched you at opera Aida, Violet Rose. Very entertaining. Now you have your husband back, this is good. You fortunate to have your husband with you. I have been away from wife far too long. She will be anxious to have me home.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Violet said. “I wish for you safe travels until you can be reunited with your family.”
Behind the duke, General Ignatiev shook his head, mumbling in Russian, but did approach Violet when the duke became interested in the argument between Lepsius and Mariette and wandered away.
“You must know, Violet Rose, that Dorn’s death almost ruined my work with Pasha. It was why I wanted truth known about him quickly so I could turn Pasha’s attentions back to discussions for liberating Bulgaria from Ottoman domination, where it has been for centuries. The Ottomans treat Orthodox Church with terrible oppression that we have been unable to break, so I think to myself that we will have diplomatic solution during canal ceremonies. I think we have accord now, and Bulgaria will be free country soon when Pasha goes to sultan.”
Violet hoped that Pasha still had that much influence with the sultan, and felt an inexplicable sadness for the retreating general, who seemed to carry an almost visible weight upon his shoulders.
Franz-Josef was already standing aboard the deck of Viribus Unitis, in position to acknowledge the crowds once the ships began to depart from port. His musicians were also in position, trumpets to their lips and hands to drumsticks. The Austrian emperor caught Violet’s eye and held a hand up in deferential greeting—an enormous concession of protocol, she thought in surprise, one that he did not even offer to Eugénie.
Poor Franz-Josef. He had realized nothing of his goals in this trip. Eugénie had ultimately rebuffed him, despite his best efforts, and his grand plan for establishing Austria’s diplomatic preeminence had crumbled into grains of sand and washed away. Who knew what would happen next to his country?
Violet returned the wave.
“You don’t plan to leave with him instead of me, do you?” Sam asked, coming up beside her and cupping a hand over her elbow.
“No. Not today, at least,” Violet teased, putting a hand to his face and running it over his now neatly trimmed facial hair. Sam had shaved off his beard after the war, but perhaps he intended to grow it again. He laughed and grabbed her hand, kissing her open palm.
“A-sailing we will go,” he said, leading her to the ship. Violet was intercepted one final time by Pasha and his son.
“I cannot say thank you, I do not think,” Pasha said without preamble. “You nearly ruined the ceremonies, and now my favorite servant is in the dungeon. I am not happy with what happened. What I will say, though, is that, well . . . I will say that if you return to Egypt you will not be unwelcome. You, as well,” he said, nodding to Sam.
Violet knew that was the closest they would get to an apology for all of the hardship they had experienced, and it was good enough.
Pasha moved on to speak with de Lesseps and Louise-Hélène, but Tewfik remained behind for just a moment.
“You missed a great opportunity with me, my lady,” Tewfik said, his voice full of regret as he bowed and walked away.
“What opportunity is this?” Sam asked, frowning at Tewfik’s retreating figure.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Violet said, relieved to be out of the young man’s sights and whatever his designs were for her.
Thaddeus Mott and Owen Morris also bade farewell to Sam, with much joking and insults. Mott made a solemn promise to have a new saber forged for Sam that he would personally drop off in London on his way back to the United States.
“As regards you, Mrs. Harper,” he said, doing his best courtier imitation, “I shall go to my grave with thanks to you on my lips, although I trust you will not have to suffer the indignity of caring for my broken-down old body.”
Mott bowed almost to the ground in his false modesty.
“Colonel, you do me honor,” Violet said lightly, then turned serious. “But I must ask you, why did you choose to remain behind with Pasha’s troops, given all that has happened?”
Mott’s grin was wide. “Ah, because I learned that Pasha is not in so much debt that he couldn’t borrow more in order to triple the fee for training his troops. It was an especial coup for me once I learned that the sultan is demanding more tribute from Pasha in order to choke off the khedive’s grand plans for himself. I like to think I am part of the sultan’s efforts to drain the khedive of power.
“I’ve also secured quite comfortable accommodations in Pasha’s palace for me and my men, so it was an easy decision to remain behind.” Mott winked at her with his natural impudence.
Violet had no doubt that Pasha’s men would end up being well trained and efficient, if Mott’s flashes of temper didn’t get him into trouble.
They were handed fresh glasses of karkadé as they boarded Newport for a final time. As the ship pulled out of Port Said and into the waters of the Mediterranean, Bertie waved from one side of the deck, while Violet and Sam stood inseparably to the other side. Violet didn’t think she would let her husband out of her sight ever again, and it made her realize that she herself had given him many sleepless nights during the dangers she had encountered in the uninvited investigations that had fallen into her lap.
Sam’s gaze was pensive as he stared forward toward Europe. Imagining him to be preoccupied with thoughts of the Pompeiian ruins, she said lightly, “Can’t wait to see some plaster casts of ash-covered bodies?”
Her husband turned to her, his tone sober. “Perhaps. You know, I’ve been close to dying twice. Once as a prisoner of war, and then as a prisoner here. This was worse because of the uncertainty and because I was thousands of miles from home, as well as because I knew that my situation was putting you through such agony. I spent quite a bit of time thinking about death, wife, and what it means to the person who is experiencing it. I found it terrible to imagine that my body might be abandoned to vultures or carelessly tossed into a grave when I was gone. I see now why you take such interest in the proper care of corpses. There is something rather . . . holy, I suppose, in being the guardian of the dead as they transition to the afterlife.” He paused, gazing out at the sea again as he formed his next words. The ship was picking up speed, and the wind ruffled his auburn hair, which was showing so
me strands of silver at the roots, much like Violet’s.
He turned to her once more. “What I mean to say is that I have always respected your work, but I wouldn’t mind also understanding it.”
Violet nodded, elated at the thought. What a different sort of colleague Sam would make from her long-dead first husband, Graham. There was much Sam could learn from both her and her business partner, Harry. “When we return to London, I will teach you everything I know. For the next two weeks, though, let’s just enjoy the peace and serenity of Pompeii.”
Sam affectionately slung an arm about her shoulders and drew her closer. “Do you think I haven’t been married to you long enough to know that, with you around, there is never peace and serenity? Trouble seems to lie in wait for you like a prowling cougar.”
“Not this time,” Violet said resolutely. “This time there will be complete repose and contentment.”
I hope . . .
THE END
Author’s Note
Ferdinand de Lesseps and the Suez Canal appeared in one of my previous novels, Stolen Remains, but I knew that I wanted to explore this world-changing event a little further, particularly from the perspective of the dignitaries attending the extravagant festivities of the canal’s inauguration.
The canal’s opening ceremonies were prefaced with a weeks-long trip down the Nile for many of the elite participants, and overall the festivities went on for weeks. It was a fitting end for a project that went on for a decade, and had actually been first conceived in ancient times, then unsuccessfully taken up by Napoléon Bonaparte in 1799. It was only through de Lesseps, formerly French consul to Cairo, that an agreement was secured with Isma’il Pasha’s predecessor and uncle, Muhammad Sa’id Pasha, to build the hundred-mile canal across the Isthmus of Suez.
In 1856 the Suez Canal Company was formed, construction plans were drawn, and digging began in 1859, primarily by corvée labor using picks and shovels. Later, because of British pressure to stop the use of this nearly slave labor and the fact that a vast number of workers were needed, Europeans were imported, aided by dredgers and steam shovels.
As might be expected with a project of such immense scale, there were many holdups related to labor disputes and even a cholera epidemic, delaying completion until 1869, four years behind schedule. The canal officially opened on November 17, 1869, during ceremonies in Port Ismailia.
The initial canal was only twenty-five feet deep, seventy-two feet wide at the bottom, and a maximum of three hundred feet wide at the surface. As a result, fewer than five hundred ships navigated it during its first full year of operations. Major improvements began in 1876, culminating in a major $8.5 billion expansion of the canal in August 2015, deepening the main waterway and providing ships with a twenty-two-mile channel parallel to it. Egypt’s hope is that the expansion will increase traffic handled by the canal and thus improve the country’s economy.
There have been struggles as well as improvements during the past 147 years of the canal’s existence, though. Because of Egypt’s ongoing debts, Great Britain was able to purchase Egypt’s shares in the canal for the paltry sum of 400,000 pounds in 1875. The canal was thus controlled by France and Great Britain until 1954, when a treaty was signed that provided for the gradual withdrawal of all British troops from the zone.
In July 1956, Egyptian president Gamal Abdel Nasser moved to nationalize the canal, intending to charge tolls large enough to pay for construction of a massive dam on the Nile River. Israel, Great Britain, and France landed troops in early November but, under pressure from the United Nations, withdrew. Egypt took permanent control of the canal.
Ten years later, Egypt shut the canal down following the Six-Day War and Israel’s occupation of the Sinai Peninsula, and for the next eight years the Suez Canal became the front line between the Egyptian and Israeli armies. In 1975, Egyptian president Anwar Sadat reopened the canal as a gesture of goodwill toward Israel.
Today, the Suez Canal handles 8 percent of global sea trade, with fifty ships per day carrying more than three hundred million tons of goods per year.
Many of the dignitaries that I mention were actually in attendance. All had their own goals and motivations for being there as political chess pieces were being moved across the European chessboard. One can only imagine what turmoil it was, despite all of the pretty speeches made that claimed the canal would bring all countries together.
However, there is no question that Ferdinand de Lesseps (1805–1894) was the star of it all. His early years were spent in Italy, where his father was involved in diplomatic duties. Following in his father’s footsteps, de Lesseps was assistant vice-consul at Lisbon by age eighteen, and rose through various positions until he became consul to Cairo in 1833. A two-year outbreak of plague cemented de Lesseps’s sterling reputation in the hearts and minds of Egyptians, as he continued to go back and forth between Alexandria and Cairo in his efforts to combat the disease.
In 1837, de Lesseps returned to France, was married, and became the father of five sons. He was given more diplomatic posts, now in Rotterdam, Barcelona, Madrid, and the Vatican. In 1851, he was awarded the Portuguese Grand Cross of the Order of the Tower and Sword. He retired from diplomatic service, and tragedy struck in 1853, when he lost his wife, Agathe, and one of his sons within days of each other.
In 1854, the accession of Sa’id Pasha inspired de Lesseps to make the Suez Canal a reality.
Louise-Hélène Autard de Bragard (1848–1909) was born on the island of Mauritius. She married Ferdinand de Lesseps on November 25, 1869, and together they had twelve children, eleven of whom survived their father. Between Louise-Hélène and his first wife, de Lesseps had a total of seventeen children. She died January 29, 1909, at Château de la Chesnaie in France. Little is known of her, but I find her to be fascinating. She was decades younger than her famous, flamboyant husband, and I imagine that she was quite overshadowed by him, yet the marriage seemed to bring her peace and contentment. I would note that she and de Lesseps were not married in Egypt, but in Paris shortly after the conclusion of the canal ceremonies.
Other than Louise-Hélène, the most influential person in de Lesseps’s life had to be Isma’il Pasha (1830–1895), the khedive of Egypt from 1863 to 1879.
Pasha was ambitious for his country, stating once, “My country is no longer in Africa; we are now part of Europe. It is therefore natural for us to abandon our former ways and to adopt a new system adapted to our social conditions.”
He was also ambitious for himself, successfully petitioning the sultan for the title of khedive, or viceroy, instead of the title of wāli, or governor, which had been used by his predecessors.
Unfortunately, achieving his aims of the Europeanization of Egypt came at a steep price, as the nation couldn’t afford endless miles of railroads, an improved postal system, and other modernizations on top of satisfying de Lesseps’s demands for financing the canal. Pasha borrowed as much and as fast as he could, resulting in tremendous debt. By 1875, he was forced to sell Egypt’s shares of the great canal, thus toppling his power—and his person—into the hands of the British, who forced his removal from the khedivate in 1879 in favor of his son Tewfik, who was considered more pliable.
Pasha’s removal was quite an irony, given that Great Britain was opposed to the entire project from the beginning because they felt it would decrease British influence in shipping . . . and give France too much influence.
Pasha was exiled first to Naples, and then to Constantinople (modern-day Istanbul), where he reputedly died while trying to guzzle two bottles of champagne at once.
Pasha’s eldest son, Tewfik Pasha (1852–1892), grew up in Egypt and was not sent to Europe to be educated like his younger brothers. He lived a generally placid country life in his palace near Cairo until the sudden deposal of his father. The new khedive was reportedly so displeased by the announcement of his hurried accession that he soundly boxed the ears of the servant who brought the news to him.
Life for T
ewfik would continue to be displeasing for him, as Egypt united behind Colonel Ahmed Orabi (1841–1911), who is mentioned but never seen in the story. Orabi was a disaffected member of the fellah, or peasant, class who was the head of the nationalist movement in Egypt and led an 1879 revolt against Tewfik’s administration, a government that was under Anglo-French control. Ironically, Orabi’s movement through the ranks would never have been possible without Isma’il Pasha’s reforms and modernizations. It is almost a parody that Orabi would eventually suffer the same fate as Isma’il Pasha: exile, with the further insult of the British once more dominating the government of Egypt.
It should be noted, however, that Orabi’s nationalist movement was actually just in its infancy during the time of this story.
Speaking of the British, Sir Henry Elliot (1817–1907) was the ambassador to Constantinople for a decade beginning in 1867. He and General Ignatiev, the ambassador to Constantinople for Russia, were frequently at odds with each other. He retired in 1884, his health broken from a long diplomatic career that began in 1841.
Commander George Nares (1831–1915) was highly respected as a leader and scientific explorer. He led the British Arctic Expedition, a failed attempt to reach the North Pole that nonetheless resulted in the collection of huge amounts of scientific data.
He also maneuvered HMS Newport to the head of the flotilla line during the canal ceremonies, earning him an official reprimand from the Royal Navy . . . and a promotion to the rank of captain.
France’s most celebrated delegate was, naturally, Empress Eugénie (1826–1920), consort of Napoléon III. A devout Catholic woman from Spain renowned for her beauty, Eugénie was considered glamorous and charming, and her fascination with Marie Antoinette sparked a revival for the clothing, architecture, and decor of King Louis XVI.
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