foreign countries. If her Majesty's subjects lend their money to foreign Governments, they are told that they do it at their own risk. Till recently this rule was strictly enforced, and by no Administration more so than by Mr Gladstone's. But after the foreign loan scandals of 1873, a new disposition began to be shown not to interpret the rule too strictly. In various cases of default, Egypt among the number, her Majesty's diplomatic agents in defaulting countries were permitted to render any services they could, "unofficially," to distressed bondholders. Prince Bismarck has gone much farther than that; and it will be remembered how, on a critical occasion, he threw the whole weight of his authority into the bondholders' scale. It may be a long while before our own Foreign Office admits the precedent, but in spite of itself it is influenced by Prince Bismarck's practice. In 1875, Egypt, or rather the ex-Khedive, Ismail Pasha, had borrowed in London and Paris nearly 70 millions sterling. The various loans had been issued at a discount in some cases of as much as 20 per cent, and the fat commissions given to bankers, brokers, and others, made a further heavy deduction. It was ascertained by Mr Cave in his investigation that not much more than 45 millions sterling in hard cash actually reached Egypt. The later loans were, to a considerable extent, swallowed up in interest on the earlier ones. As they proceeded, they grew in amount, and proportionately more of them was retained in this country to meet prior charges. Of the 1870 loan for 7 millions, only 5 millions really went to Egypt; and of the final 32 million loan in 1873, little more than 20 millions left this country.
The money that did go to Egypt was not made a very exemplary use of. The ex-Khedive, Ismail Pasha, was a lavish spender. French by education and sympathy, he was an imitator of Napoleon III. The Second Empire, with its showy enterprise and pinchbeck brilliance, fascinated him. M. de Lesseps, his intimate friend from boyhood, had great influence over him. The sagacious Frenchman could get almost anything from him for the Suez Canal while it was in progress. Sixteen millions of his borrowing went into that important work, which is now a splendid investment for the original proprietors. But Ismail Pasha's other investments were of a different kind. He sank millions on millions in cotton plantations, which seldom if ever paid their working expenses – and on sugar-factories, most of which, we believe, are going to ruin. He was magnificent in his largesses, as well as in his enterprises. The backsheesh he paid at Constantinople might have excited the envy of Haroun Alraschid. On one occasion, when the Porte disputed his right to contract loans, he crossed the palms of the Grand Vizier of the day with a gratuity of £50,000. Next time the Grand Vizier could not help him, and he went direct to the Sultan. His Majesty's price was £900,000. Ismail obtained his new firman, and on the strength of it launched his last loan – the 32 million transaction of 1873. In view of the blunted moral sense of the British public in regard to this class of finance which approaches so dangerously near to card-sharping, the disgraceful history of Egyptian borrowing ought to be fearlessly and frankly told. We have indicated what stamp of man was the borrower-in-chief, the ex-Khedive. The financiers of Paris and London, who pandered to his fabulous extravagance, were pretty well exposed
