THE SHAVING OF BURCKHARDT
Major Cornelius Burckhardt was quartered in an old house not far from
Firouz Ali's shop. He occupied two rooms on the ground floor, the
bedroom opening from the sitting-room. It was into the latter that the
barber and Yusuf his apprentice, having been admitted to the outer
courtyard by the doorkeeper, were ushered by the major's servant, who
bade them wait there, and disappeared into the room beyond.
Burnet looked around with curiosity and amusement. The appointments of
the room bespoke a blend of archaeologist and military officer. In the
centre stood a roll-top desk, open, and strewn with maps and papers:
Major Burckhardt, although unshaved, had already been at work.
Military accoutrements, hanging from pegs on the wall, dangled above a
table strewn with potsherds, fragments of tiles, tablets, and other
objects unearthed from Babylonian ruins. Images, large and small, all
very much damaged, were ranged on the floor around the walls. Across
one corner was a stone screen nearly six feet high, strangely carved,
and chipped at the edges.
The servant having left the bedroom door half open, his announcement of
the barber's arrival was clearly heard in the outer room. A husky
voice, speaking Arabic with a strong guttural accent, bade him show the
man in. Firouz Ali, closely followed by Burnet carrying his utensils,
entered, bowing low, and giving the customary salutation, "Salaam
aleikam!" to which the German suitably responded.
"My barber is sick," he went on. "I sent for you, knowing you to be
skilful with the razor."
"May your excellency----" began Firouz Ali.
"Yes, yes; but no man lives for ever," said the German, cutting short
the formula. "I was about to say that I cannot shave myself. I have
worn a beard for twenty years, but naturally I had to discard it on
resuming my career in our German army. I explain this, because it is
foreign to my nature to be dependent. I prefer to do everything
myself. Also my beard grows strong: therefore is it necessary that
your razor should be particularly keen. And now proceed."
Burnet had some difficulty in repressing a smile. Major Burckhardt was
a tubby little man, with an immense dome-like head, rather bald, and
spectacled. His brown moustache was brushed up at the ends. He wore a
long camel's-hair dressing-gown that accentuated his rotundity. Burnet
vividly remembered his last sight of the little man, then heavily
bearded. He was being rushed down the slope of a _tell_ by Burnet's
father, who had seized him by the scruff of the neck, the German
frantically calling upon his Arab followers to assist him against the
English interloper. Prudently, the Arabs had stood by, gravely
watching the scene.
"Yusuf, spread the napkin," said the barber. "Your excellency will
have no cause to regret the misfortune that has befallen your barber.
In all Bagdad, nay, in all the realm of the Padishah there is no razor
equal to this, whether for keenness or for the velvet softness of its
touch. Your excellency will be soothed and----"
"Yes, yes," the major interrupted; "get to work. I want my breakfast,
and I am already later than my usual hour."
Firouz Ali, like all loquacious people--even though his loquacity was
designed--disliked the spoiling of his sentences. He pressed his lips
together, and vigorously stropped his razor, signing to Burnet to
lather the officer.
While Burnet was preparing the lather, Major Burckhardt, his thick neck
swathed with a snowy napkin, looked up at the ceiling, and discoursed
of many things.
"There are great days coming for this city of yours, barber. When our
Kaiser establishes a protectorate over the country, Bagdad will regain
something of its old renown--nay, it will become even more illustrious
than it was in its palmiest days. And we have not long to wait." Here
Burnet began to lather; but the major, having started on the pleasant
pastime of hearing himself speak, continued, in spite of the brush that
was travelling over his cheeks and chin. "The English are beating
their heads vainly against the impregnable fortresses down the river,
erected by German genius. Soon they will be swept away into the sea
they claim as their own; that race of boastful braggarts, robbers,
hypocrites, scoundrels, scum----"
How far the major's vocabulary of abuse would have extended will not be
known, for at this moment Burnet dabbed the shaving-brush, thick with
the whitest and creamiest of lathers, into the German's half-open
mouth. The little man jumped up, spluttering with froth and fury.
Firouz Ali instantly feigned an explosion of rage. Seizing the brush,
he flung Burnet aside and shouted:
"Away with you, you clumsy fool, last of a generation of apes! Woe is
me that I should call you kin! Would you shame me before the very face
of his excellency? Would you take away my good name, and cause it to
be spread abroad throughout the world that Firouz Ali is the uncle of
an ass? I pray your excellency to pardon me, the least of his
servants, and not to turn away the light of his countenance from me
because of the iniquities of this poor fool, who is but lately come
from a mean village that I may sharpen his wits and better his manners.
Stand here, poor witless lout, and hold me the basin: 'tis all you are
fit for."
[Illustration: A MOUTHFUL OF SOAP]
The German allowed himself to be appeased; he wanted his breakfast.
Firouz Ali, alternately abusing his apprentice and flattering the
officer, finished his task, and coaxed out an admission that, barring
the awkwardness of the young man, it had been a very comfortable shave.
The major then dismissed him, telling him to wait in the next room and
the servant would bring his fee.
The barber bowed himself out, and harshly bade Burnet follow him, and
close the door. They heard the major ring for his servant, who gained
the bedroom by another entrance. There was some delay, and Burnet
catching sight of a marked map spread out on the desk, and remembering
his mission, moved across the room to examine it. Before he had taken
more than a cursory glance, however, there was a sound of persons
approaching the outer door. Instinctively he slipped behind the stone
screen at his elbow, next moment feeling annoyed with himself, for
there might have been time to rejoin Firouz Ali. The door opened, and
there entered a tall man in the uniform of a German general, with a
Turkish aide-de-camp at his heels, Major Burckhardt's servant
following. The latter crossed at once to the door of the bedroom, half
opened it, and announced that General Eisenstein had called on
important business. Major Burckhardt, still in his dressing-gown, came
out hurriedly, with proper apologies for his appearance. He signed to
Firouz Ali to go, and the barber was followed out by the servant, who
handed him his fee, receiving a portion of it as commission, in
accordance with oriental custom.
"Where is your apprentice?" he asked.
"Where is that ass-head, that worker of iniquity!" cried the barber.
"By the Beard, it were fitting he should drown himself. Did you not
see him pass out, rubbing his pumpkin pate?"
"He did not pass me."
"Then peradventure he slunk out at the back while you were admitting
your master's high-born visitor. Truly he would shrink from showing
his foolish face even to you, friend."
He spoke in a very loud tone of voice, in order to be heard both by the
doorkeeper across the courtyard, and by Burnet within the house. When
the servant had closed the door, Firouz Ali stood for a moment or two
debating with himself what he had better do. He was seriously
perturbed. For years past he had lived on the edge of circumstance, a
secret revolutionary, owing his safety solely to his quickness,
resource, and address. He had never felt so helpless as in the present
predicament, due to Burnet's impulsive action. Deciding that to loiter
in the neighbourhood could do no good, and might do harm, he returned
to his shop, convinced that he would see his benefactor's son no more.
Meanwhile Burnet, crouching back in the corner behind the screen, and
feeling that he deserved all the abuse lately showered upon him by his
friend, had perforce listened to the conversation between the German
officers. The opening sentences, spoken in German, he did not
understand. General Eisenstein had in fact begun by apologising for
disturbing Major Burckhardt at what was clearly an unseasonable hour.
"As you know," he remarked, "I am myself up and about before dawn."
Burckhardt caught the implied reproach, and answered in something of a
fluster.
"I have already been at work, Herr General," he said, "but my barber
fell sick, and----"
"Quite so, but speak in Arabic, if you please. Major Rustum Bey does
not understand German. I have come to you for information about a part
of the country with which I understand you are familiar. Major Rustum
Bey has had some difficulty in getting exact particulars."
Burnet pricked up his cars. From this point on the conversation was
conducted in Arabic.
"The chief Halil," General Eisenstein went on, "who has hitherto shown
himself friendly and proved to be of some use (although one can trust
these Arabs no farther than one can see them), has come in to ask for
assistance. It appears that a certain tribe with which he has been
long at war (they call it war!) has crossed the Euphrates and
established itself in a fastness among the swamps. The tribe is known
to be disaffected towards his Ottoman Majesty: if it is not rooted out
it will become a nucleus of hostile activity, attracting other rebel
Arabs, and may seriously threaten our communications on the river. The
situation of the fastness is described as a long march south of the
_tell_ of--what is the name, major?"
"The _tell_ of Tukulti-Ninip, Excellenz," said the Turkish officer.
"Now, Major Burckhardt, in the first place do you know this _tell_
of--ach!----"
"Tukulti-Ninip," said Burckhardt. "Certainly: I know it well. Only a
few years ago it was the scene of a brisk little action between myself
and a brutal Englishman who was poaching on my ground. The Englishman
had cause to repent his insolence."
"Good, Major Burckhardt. You will soon have further opportunities, no
doubt, of action of a still more stirring character. Now, as to this
fastness--you have a map? Yes, I see you have. Point out to me the
locality of this _tell_ of----"
"Tukulti-Ninip. Here it is, Herr General." He laid a fat forefinger
on the spot. "It is covered with the ruins of a temple erected by
Samsi-Addu to the god Anu, and was----"
"We are discussing military matters, not antiquities, my dear major.
Let us proceed. The fastness in question is described as an island in
the marshes, and has ruins of some kind, giving good cover. It is
approached by a causeway nearly a thousand metres long. Do you know
such a place?"
"That, too, Herr General, I know as well as I know my own native
village of Obervogelgesang: better, indeed, for I once spent six months
digging in the ruins you mention, and the museums of Dresden and Munich
count my finds among their choicest treasures. I had the good fortune
to discover a tablet commemorating the expedition of Tukulti-Ninip to
the Sebbeneh-Su----"
"My good major, confine yourself to our present business, if you
please. You know the place well. Then we shall not be dependent on
the Arabs for our information. Where would you locate it on the map?"
Burckhardt took a pencil, and after some consideration marked the spot,
saying:
"It is here, as nearly as possible. The wady, once a canal (dating
from the time of Assur-Uballit) that irrigated the whole surrounding
country, is now the cause of the marshes. It carries the flood water
of the Euphrates over a hundred square kilometres, and is now a scourge
where it was once a source of prosperity. I discovered in my
researches that Pudi-ilu----"
"Enough!" cried the general, his patience giving out. He turned to the
Turk. "A company of infantry with a machine-gun, assisted by Halil's
horde, will no doubt suffice?"
Though in form a question, there was so little real enquiry in the
remark that Major Rustum Bey hastily agreed.
"Certainly, Excellenz. It will be quite sufficient."
"Then I will arrange that you undertake the little expedition,
associated with Major Burckhardt, whose peculiar local knowledge should
be of much value. Shall we say a month from to-day? Halil will have
to return to his tribe and make his arrangements, and procrastination
is such a vice with the Arabs that we must give him plenty of time.
Tell him to be ready in a fortnight, and we may be reasonably certain
that he will be ready in a month. That is all, then, Major Burckhardt.
Ah! it occurs to me to remind you that this is a military expedition,
not a hunt for old stones."
The visitors took their leave, Burckhardt accompanying them to the door.