THE AMÎR’S CONVERSATION.
Sent for to the Palace. Fragility of Europeans. The Amîr’s postîn.
The Bedchamber. The King’s evening costume. The guests. The Amîr’s
illness. School in the Durbar-room. The Amîr’s conversation.
Companies of Khans: the water supply of London: plurality of wives.
The Amîr is bled. Further conversation. His Highness a physician
in Turkestan: an iron-smith: a gold-smith. Drawing. Discussion
as to the Amîr’s portrait. Amîr’s choice of costume. The Shah of
Persia. Portraits of the Shah in ignominious places. The rupee and
the Queen’s portrait. Cigar holders. Concerning Afghan hillmen.
Dinner. The Amîr’s domestic habits. Amîr’s consideration for
subordinates. Conversation concerning European customs. The new
Kabul. Native drugs. Soup and beef tea. The paper trick. Page-boys
with fever. The Kafir Page. European correspondence. Vaccination
of Prince Mahomed Omer. Afghan women. The Prince’s house: his
chamber: his nurse. The Prince. The operation. Abdul Wahid. Afghan
desire for vaccination. The Armenian’s useful sagacity. An Afghan
superstition. The dreadful old lady and her suggestion. The nurse’s
remark. The Agent’s secretary. His comments upon Bret Harte: the
meaning of “By Jove”: the Christian belief in the Trinity. European
“divorce” from an Oriental point of view: plurality of wives.
That evening, about seven o’clock, a messenger came from the Palace
saying that the Armenian was wanted at once by Amîr Sahib. I was
a little startled, wondering if anything had gone wrong. About
half-an-hour afterwards the Armenian, accompanied by a soldier with a
lantern, returned, and said that His Highness wished to see me.
[Sidenote: Sent for to the Palace.]
Outside it was dark and freezing, and His Highness had been kind enough
to send by the hand of the Armenian a postîn for me, lest I should take
a chill again and have a return of fever. For, as the Armenian put it,
“Highness say Afghan is stone man, heat is not hurt it, cold is not
hurt it; but European very soft man, likes flower, soon cold is take
it.”
The postîn, of crimson velvet lined with a valuable fur called in
Persian, “khuz”--I think a species of marten--was made to fit the
noble proportions of the Amîr. On my lean figure it showed to better
advantage wrapped round as a cloak.
Guided by the soldier with his lantern, we reached the Palace and
waited a minute or two in the anteroom: presently a Page boy came out
and called me in. I wondered what could be the matter. But it occurred
to me that it could not be anything disagreeable or His Highness would
not have sent me his own postîn.
I was shown into His Highness’s bedroom--at least, so I conjectured,
though it bore no resemblance to our ideas of a bedroom. It was a
smaller room than the one I had been in at the Tuesday’s Durbar, and on
the other side of the centre hall or passage.
At one end of the room was His Highness, seated on a divan or broad
couch which was covered with furs. In front of him was what looked
like a large ottoman covered with a quilt which was partly concealed
by a cover of Indian embroidery. This was a “sandali,” and underneath
was the charcoal brazier. On the divan were piled cushions and large
pillows covered with velvet and silk brocades.
His Highness wore a small white turban of Indian muslin: over his
shoulders was thrown a robe of crimson silk lined with fur and almost
covered with gold embroidery. The room was brilliant with innumerable
wax candles. Two brass candlesticks with branches stood on the
sandali, and many more were placed round the room. It was a very
striking scene. Several Page boys were standing at the far end of
the room--there was no talking or whispering--and, at a sign or word
from His Highness, one of them moved silently to do as he was told.
Seated on the ground at the side of the room, about midway between His
Highness and the Page boys, were three of the Court: one was the Sirdar
Usuf Khan, the Amîr’s uncle; another was the Master of the Horse,
Sirdar Abdullah Khan; and the third, my old friend, General Nasir Khan.
I bowed to His Highness and he ordered a chair to be placed for me:
then tea was brought.
[Sidenote: The Amîr’s Illness.]
His Highness said that he hoped I should suffer no inconvenience
from the night air, and that he had asked me to visit him as he was
suffering from a severe chill. He had studied many Persian books on
medicine, he told me, and was intending to take certain medicines. He
took the trouble to show me the medicines and explain their action.
I asked permission to make an examination of his temperature and
condition, and found he had four degrees of fever (102·4 F.). Granting
that the medicines acted as he supposed, he was adopting a rational
line of treatment, and I told him so, explaining, at the same time,
that I had not studied the action of the remedies he spoke of. He
talked to me for some time and told me, amongst other things, that he
had studied medicine while he was an exile in Russia. He said that he
never learnt Russian, but that he could talk Persian, Arabic, Pushtu,
and Turki.
By-and-by sweetmeats and fruit were brought in, pomegranates and
pears, oranges, grapes, and dried fruit. His Highness offered me a
cigarette, or rather directed one of the Pages to do so, and I smoked
while he spoke to me. At about nine o’clock His Highness indicated that
he felt inclined to sleep, and I was permitted to retire.
The next morning at eleven o’clock I was sent for again. It was snowing
fast and I had to put a plain cloak over my finery, leaving it, of
course, in the anteroom when I reached the Palace. I found His Highness
very little better; he was feverish and still had pain in the shoulders
and back. He said he had had a very restless night, with much fever.
The attendants said he had been delirious, but I doubt if they knew
what they were talking about.
After talking to His Highness for a short time we all retired to the
Durbar room and His Highness got a little sleep. For us the inevitable
tea was brought, and I smoked cigars and talked to the Armenian.
There were several small Page boys in the Durbar room; they were
seated cross-legged on the ground round the charcoal brazier and were
receiving lessons in reading and writing. One or two were handsome
boyish boys, and another was very pretty, but in face more like a
little Italian girl than a boy.
At half-past one breakfast--in my case lunch--was brought in. It was
practically a repetition of Tuesday’s, except that His Highness was not
there. After lunch I smoked on till I had finished all the cigars I had
in my pocket, and then one of the Chamberlain’s, my friend, Shere Ali
Khan, brought me some cigarettes. We had tea again, two sweet cups, and
half a cup without sugar.
At four o’clock in the afternoon I was called in to His Highness. He
still had some fever, but felt better. There were several people in the
room. Beside the Pages there were the two chief Hakims, Abdul Wahid and
Abdur Rashid, and other people, some of whom I knew and some I did not.
All were seated on the ground round the room, and everyone was very
still.
[Sidenote: The Amîr’s Conversation.]
His Highness addressed his conversation to me. He told me much about
the customs of the Russians that he became acquainted with when he was
in exile; and he asked me many questions about London. He seemed to
know a good deal about it himself. He described, for the benefit of
the listeners, an English custom in which gentlemen--Khans--of wealth,
band themselves together for the purpose of trade, and that each band
is called “a Comp’ny.” He asked much about the water supply of London,
enquiring whether it were a Government undertaking, or managed by a
Comp’ny of Khans, and he dropped a remark or two that showed me he had
taken the trouble to secure previous information on the subject.
The conversation drifted to many subjects, and I remember he
proved--though I do not say entirely to my satisfaction--how much
better it was to have five wives than one. So that, although I was at
the Palace purely in a professional capacity, I found myself being
entertained by the Royal patient in most interesting conversation. At
last he said I must be tired, having spent the whole day at the Palace.
I need scarcely say that the enjoyment of listening to His Highness,
and adding what I could to his stock of information, quite made up
for any ennui I may have felt while smoking innumerable cigars and
cigarettes in the Durbar room.
We got home about six in the evening. I had then to go and see my
neighbour, the Mirza Abdur Rashid, who had sent to my house several
times. He had fever again. I did not call on the Commander-in-Chief a
second time while he was ill, as I found he preferred trusting himself
to the skill of the hereditary physicians of his country, the Hakims.
The next morning I went to the Palace again. His Highness said he was
better: certainly he had no fever, but he looked uncommonly ill. He
told me that, feeling very feverish and oppressed in the evening after
I had left, he ordered a vein in his arm to be opened and a quantity
of blood to be withdrawn. He expressed himself as feeling considerably
relieved by the operation.
In the afternoon, at half-past four, when I went again to see him, His
Highness seemed to have recovered somewhat from the blood-letting, and
was in very good spirits. He related many interesting details of his
life when he was in exile in Samarcànd and Tashkend. He told me that,
after having read up the ancient Greek system of medicine as set forth
in the Persian books at his command, he practised as a Physician among
the natives of Russian Turkestan: that in his spare time he worked at
the forge to learn the manufacture of war materials: that he learnt the
details of gunpowder manufacture, and even worked at the more delicate
and artistic handicraft of the goldsmith. He said that he tried to
learn drawing, knowing that the art can be applied to so many uses, but
that he never was able to succeed. He praised my capabilities in that
line in the complimentary language of an Oriental, and asked me to show
those in the room how one began a drawing.
[Sidenote: Drawing and Painting.]
I asked what should I draw? He left that entirely to me. A paper and
pencil being brought, I made a sketch of a man’s head, and handed it
to His Highness. He looked at it critically, and said that the only
improvement he could suggest was that the eyebrows should be a little
heavier. After I had corrected this he approved entirely, and a Page
boy took the sketch round to every one in the room.
“Wah, wah!” they said, in admiration.
The King had approved; the Courtiers admired.
His Highness then said that the only thing he could ever draw was a
tree in the winter-time. I asked him if he would honour us by showing
us how a tree should be drawn. He took the paper and pencil and drew
two trees excellently. I intended to have asked His Highness to give
me the sketch, for it was really drawn for my benefit, but one of the
Courtiers was too clever for me, and he annexed it. I did not like to
ask then, for I knew the man would get into trouble if I did.
His Highness desired me to commence a portrait of himself as soon as he
was well enough to sit. I said it would give me very great pleasure to
do so. There was a discussion then, in which the Courtiers joined, as
to the size the painting should be. Some suggested that it should be an
equestrian portrait, life size; others that it should be of the King
sitting: and many different costumes were suggested, all more or less
gorgeous. I said that I had only enough canvas for a “head portrait.”
His Highness said that if I would make out a list of anything I wanted
in the way of canvas, brushes, and paints, he would order them to be
brought from Bombay at once. I finally suggested that a head portrait
should be finished first, and if His Highness approved of it, a “full
length” could be done afterwards. His Highness had never sat for a
painting, and I think that he scarcely realized what an undertaking it
is to sit for a full length life-sized portrait. As regards costume,
His Highness said he preferred a plain coat and a fur busby. Embroidery
and bright colours, he said, were more fit for women and boys than men.
Afterwards he told us many interesting stories about the Shah of Persia
and other people. The Shah he did not take at all seriously, and, in
particular, he laughed at the custom there is in Persia of putting a
portrait of the Shah on almost everything; even on utensils that are
used for ignominous purposes. He described the Persians as not at all
cleanly persons.
[Sidenote: The Queen’s Portrait on the Indian Rupee.]
It is to be noted that the Amîr will allow no representation of himself
on vessels, stamps, or coins, and when I learnt this, I confess I
was surprised that he wished his portrait painted. However, when the
portrait was eventually finished, it was apparently looked upon as an
effigy or representation of Royalty, and, as you shall hear presently,
was treated with some ceremony and no little respect. While he was
speaking about the Shah, he happened to take up an Indian rupee, and
was spinning it about on the sandali in front of him. Suddenly he said,
as he picked it up--
“How old was Queen Victoria when this portrait was taken?”
I hesitated a moment: it was a difficult question to answer. Finally I
said,
“It is intended to represent the Queen, but it is not a portrait of Her
Majesty as she is now, nor, I believe, as she was when she was young.”
His Highness at once said,
“You are right; every feature is incorrect--eyes, nose, and mouth; and
even the crown on her head is not the crown she wears.”
It was impossible for me to explain, through the Armenian, that the
impression on the coin was a heraldic decoration, and was not meant for
an exact portrait of Her Majesty.
Meanwhile, fruit and sweets were brought, and I lit a cigar. When I had
smoked to the stump, I stuck my pocket-knife in to hold it by.
His Highness said, “Have you no cigar-holder?”
On hearing I had not, he gave some directions to a Page boy. The boy
disappeared, returning presently with about a dozen cases. His Highness
opened the cases, examined them, and then, choosing two, gave them to
me.
They were meerschaum and amber cigar-holders, the case being stamped
with the name of a firm in Bombay. One was in the shape of a hand
holding an oval, and the other was straight with a prancing horse
carved on the top of it. They looked so beautifully pure in colour that
it seemed a pity to defile them with tobacco smoke. However, aesthetic
ideas did not prevail, and before long I had coloured them both a rich
brown.
By-and-bye I began to think it must surely be getting somewhere
near dinner time, when just then the clock struck--it was ten p.m.
However, it was not yet the hour for the Amîr’s second meal, and he
continued conversing. He told me of the habits and customs of the
Afghan hillmen; of their agility and hardiness, their great stature and
bodily strength: that with them meat was a luxury to be obtained only
by the few and by them rarely; of the weapons they manufactured for
themselves, their love of fighting, and their love of robbery. I said,
“They must be good stuff to make soldiers of.”
“Yes,” said His Highness, “but they needed taming.”
A little before midnight dinner was brought. The Amîr has two meals in
the day: one about midday and the other about midnight. Occasionally
the time is varied. He may breakfast at ten a.m. and dine at nine
or ten p.m. He takes a cup of tea on rising, and, as a rule, some
biscuits--macaroons and other sweet cakes--are brought, though he
seldom eats them. At breakfast and dinner he eats as heartily as
one would expect a robust man to do, but not more so. The _pièce de
résistance_ being pilau, which consists largely of rice, I think
that the Amîr does not eat so much meat in the day as an ordinary
Englishman. He drinks water only, at meals. Tea he drinks in the early
morning and in the afternoon, and, curiously enough, tea is usually
brought half-an-hour before and sometimes half-an-hour after a meal.
There is no set rule as regards tea drinking. It is taken at all hours
of the day, except with meals.
When dinner was brought, a tray was placed before His Highness on the
sandali. A small table was brought for me, and the Courtiers sat on the
ground.
The Armenian, who had had a little fever the day before, had been
standing behind my chair all this time--rather more than seven
hours--and translating. He looked fagged to death. His Highness
happening to notice him standing while everyone was sitting, said, “Sit
and eat.”
The Armenian, however, did not dare to take the Amîr at his word and
excite the resentment of the Courtiers, the Chief Secretaries, and
Officers, by joining them, and, moreover, he felt shame at presuming to
sit eating in the presence of the Amîr, so that he made some excuse.
His Highness, seeing his embarrassment, ordered dinner to be served for
him in another room.
When dinner was over I asked permission to retire, and His Highness
gave orders for a guard with lanterns to conduct me to my door. We got
home at half-past one.
The next day, Sunday, I spent in a similar way at the Palace. I found
His Highness better. After being with him a short time I withdrew to
the Durbar room, where lunch was served for me.
[Sidenote: The New Kabul.]
I was called in again in the afternoon and His Highness continued his
conversation. He spoke much about European customs, and surprised me by
the extent and accuracy of his knowledge. The Courtiers sat listening,
dumb with admiration at the “boundless knowledge of the great King.”
He told me of the city of his dreams, the new Kabul, that he hoped to
build in the Charhardeh Valley, drawing a plan of the city and of its
fortifications. I enquired whether there were materials for building
near at hand; and asked where he would get his water supply from, and
so on, and he entered into all the details most willingly.
He gave me further information about the Afghans as a nation: though
he described more their obvious characteristics than those that are
unknown to European investigators. He sent for samples of native drugs
and plants, and instructed me in their alleged action on the human body.
At dinner, soup was brought for my especial benefit, for the Amîr knew
that Europeans took soup before meat when they dined. The conversation
then turned upon the making of soup, and His Highness sent for the
cooking utensils that were used by his cook and described the process
to me. I did not know how soup was made, but I knew how to extract the
nourishing properties of meat, and I described the making of “beef
tea,” giving the reasons for each step in the process.
After dinner--I forget what led up to it--I asked for a piece of paper
and a pair of scissors, and having cut a square the size of the palm
of my hand, I said to His Highness that I could cut a hole in it big
enough to put my head through: would he ask his Courtiers if they could
do the same. One after another they took the paper, and the Amîr seemed
much amused as they turned it every way, and finally declared the thing
was impossible. It was given back to me and I made the usual cuts. One
down the middle and others alternately from the middle cut and from the
outer edge--this fashion. [Illustration] Of course, it would go over my
head then. The Amîr enjoyed immensely the astonishment and discomfiture
of the Courtiers, and laughed heartily as he mocked and jeered at them.
[Sidenote: The Kafir Page, Malek.]
All this time the little Page boys had to be standing, and they
looked dreadfully tired. One of them, the Amîr’s favourite, had fever.
He was a slave from Kaffristan, about fourteen, named Malek. He was
fair-skinned and quite like an English boy in face, though he wore two
large emeralds looped in each ear by a ring of gold.
There was a hard frost that night, and we did not get home till
half-past two.
The next morning, when I arrived at the Palace, I found His Highness
was asleep, so I betook myself to Samander’s khirgar or wigwam. It was
as well I went, for I found he had fever. I took the opportunity also
of prescribing for the favourite Page, Malek. He was a nice lad, and
I had a chat with him. He seemed to be quite proud that he was not a
Mahomedan in religion, though he couldn’t quite tell me what he was. He
remembered only a few words of his native language.
Afterwards he became a very good friend to me. He had infinite tact,
and if I wished to call the attention of His Highness to any matter
without making a formal report, Malek was always ready to choose the
fitting moment in which to speak to His Highness.
I did not see the Amîr that day, for he was engaged, busily and alone,
answering European correspondence. I heard, however, that he was much
better.
On the following day, Tuesday, His Highness held the usual military
Durbar. He sat at the window of the Palace enveloped in furs. When I
arrived, he desired me to examine the throat of a woman who was there,
unveiled, among the petitioners, and diagnose the disease she was
suffering from. When I had given my report, His Highness invited me
into the Palace and I lunched with him as before. He asked me why I
had ceased, since my recovery from fever, from sending to his kitchen
for lunch and dinner. He desired me to continue sending, so long as I
remained in the country.
After that the Amîr’s cook waited upon me daily at my house to receive
orders.
A day or two after this, on Sunday, January 19th, I was called before
daybreak to vaccinate the little Prince, Mahomed Omer. The very fat
man, Hakim Abdur Rashid, came for me while I was dressing; the servants
prepared tea and then we started. The Prince was not living in the
harem with his mother, the Sultana: he had a house of his own not very
far from mine.
The Hakim waddled by my side, talking and talking, and panting, and
still talking in his unctuous voice, and I stalked on in the darkness.
Dawn was so near that we brought no lanterns, and before we reached the
house the light of morning was gleaming on the snow. At the high gate,
leading to the gardens, was a sentry with fixed bayonet.
Just as we reached the gate an old “sakabi,” or water-carrier, was
passed in by the sentry. Before he was allowed to cross the gardens
with his leather water-bag to fill the house deghchis, or water-pots,
the sentry made him unloose his turban and droop the end of it over his
eyes so that he could see on the ground only.
“Women about?” I said to the Armenian.
“Yes, sir. Highness’ sister here and other lady.”
“Shall we see them?” I asked.
“Sir. Please you not talk. Perhaps this fat man understand. Highness
make angry if he hear.”
Our eyes were not bandaged, though the Armenian and I were a good deal
younger than the “sakabi.” The fat Hakim did not count. We crossed the
garden and went up some steps into a lobby and the Hakim called out:--
“Kussi ast?” “Anyone here?”
A door on our right opened and the old Hakim, Abdul Wahid, appeared,
and raising a curtain ushered us into the room.
The usual charcoal brazier stood in the middle of the carpet, curtains
hung by the windows and over the doors.
The curtain over a doorway, at the far side of the room, was slightly
pulled back, and, though we could see no one, it was here I heard that
the ladies were concealed.
Seated by the side of the brazier was a fair young woman with a baby on
her knee. These were the little Prince and his nurse. There were two
older women, also nurses, seated by the fire. None of the women were
veiled, but each had a cashmere shawl over her head, which she pulled
slightly across the lower part of the face. All rose as we entered.
[Sidenote: Vaccination of Prince Mahomed Omer.]
The Prince was a bright-eyed healthy-looking little fellow, with a
skin slightly darker than that of an English baby. He was very much
swaddled-up in clothes. Over his head was thrown a square of white
cashmere, which was held back from the face and kept in position by a
band round the head. A chair and a little table were placed for me,
and the inevitable tea was brought.
The Hakim and nurses sat on the ground again. The Armenian remained
standing.
Presently, I said to the Armenian, “I am quite ready now to vaccinate
the Prince.”
It was broad daylight by this time, and I had my lancet and vaccine
lymph with me.
The Armenian spoke to the Hakim Abdul Wahid, and he directed the nurse
to undress the child sufficiently to expose the upper arm. The nurse
commenced to unfasten the innumerable strings and bandages in which
the Prince was bound up. As this operation needed both her hands, of
course it was not her fault that the shawl fell back from her face.
She was really a very pretty girl. She had a little crimson jacket, a
long white camise reaching to the knee, loose oriental trousers, and
a little gold-embroidered cap, like a polo cap, put coquettishly on
one side: the embroidered cashmere shawl draped from the head over the
shoulders. As she sat with the child on her knee and the early sun
shining on them, it struck me what a picture they would make for the
Madonna and Child.
The two old ladies were not so smartly dressed. They had dark-grey
shawls and a sort of hood on the head. They looked like nuns and acted
as a “foil” to the nurse.
When the little Prince’s arms were free, he waved them about and crowed
joyously. As he lay on the nurse’s lap I was obliged to sit on the
ground to vaccinate him. The operation did not take many seconds. He
looked somewhat astonished when he felt the first prick of the lancet:
possibly it was the first sensation of pain he had ever experienced,
and he gave a little whimper before I had quite finished. Then his arm
was bound up and he was dressed again.
When we came away, the portly Abdur Rashid took a ceremonious and
courtly leave, but Abdul Wahid walked part of the way home with me. He
did not talk. He was dressed in pure Afghan costume of the plainest
kind. A loose brown coat or robe reaching to the knee, plain blue
turban and a thin brown cloak, or lungi, of camels’ hair draped in
classic folds over his shoulders.
I never saw anyone who could throw the end of the cloak over the left
shoulder so negligently, and yet have it fall in such folds as he could.
[Sidenote: Afghan desire for Vaccination.]
The old Hakim departed on his way home, and we met the “Master of the
Carpets,” Bai Mahomed Khan. He apparently had been lying in wait for
us, and he begged me to come to his house and vaccinate his infant son.
As I had plenty of lymph we went on to his house to do so. We waited in
the porch while he went in to drive all the women away; consequently,
the child had to be undressed and held by a man-servant. In the
afternoon, two of the little Prince’s Kaffir slave boys were sent to my
house to be vaccinated; and on succeeding days several more were sent
for the same purpose.
Many people, even those not attached to the Court, came and asked, as
a favour, that I would vaccinate their children. Some cases I was, of
necessity, obliged to postpone until I could get a further supply of
lymph. In Kabul, I saw many people suffering from the frightful results
of that dread disease, Small-pox, when it seizes upon those unprotected
by vaccination. In England, where vaccination is so universal, it is
rare to see a bad case.
I visited the Prince every day for about a fortnight. Abdul Wahid
generally met me at the house. He and I were to attend to the Prince’s
health and up-bringing. Abdur Rashid did not appear after the first
visit. I did not vehemently press European innovations after the first
day or two, for the Armenian said, with useful sagacity:--
“Sir, suppose you take away bandages and head coverings, and curtains,
and Shahzada Sahib take cold, blame come upon you. Better you let the
women do in Afghan custom, then no harm come for you.”
I took his advice, and the more willingly, because none of my
suggestions had, hitherto, produced the slightest effect. For immovable
obstinacy there is nothing to match the conservatism of an Eastern
woman.
I soon became friendly with the little Prince, and trotted him on my
knee, or walked about the room with him in my arms. I never kissed
him, for I thought it better to consider the religious scruples of the
Sultana. Being a Feringhi there was always a chance that I _might_ have
eaten pig.
One day he was very merry, and was laughing when I said good-bye and
left the room. Immediately one of the old nurses followed me out and
begged a hair from my head, so that no evil should result from my
having left him while he was laughing. The hair was burnt with due
ceremony.
[Sidenote: The Dreadful Old Lady and her Suggestion.]
This old lady asked me one day if I were not very
“dek”--_ennuié_--living alone in a strange land. She said,
“Why do you not buy a little Kaffir girl with a white skin, and make
her your wife?”
I said I was betrothed to an English girl.
“England!” she said, “that is a far journey from here. Take to yourself
a wife in Afghanistan, and your English wife can remain in England.”
You wicked old lady! I thought. I said,
“It is not the custom of my country, and is forbidden by our religion.”
She laughed.
I began to get afraid of this old lady.
Another day the younger nurse volunteered a remark. She asked me--Were
there in England any women as beautiful as she, with skin as white and
eyes as dark.
The old ladies remarked that her question was exceedingly ill-bred, and
one likely to cause offence to me.
The Armenian told her that she, and such as she, were not fit to carry
the shoes of an English lady. I said he was quite right: so she was
snubbed all round. However, she did not seem to mind, for she sat and
smiled to herself.
Meanwhile, I was continuing my Persian lessons, whenever Munshi Amin
Ullah, the Agent’s secretary, could spare an hour to visit me. One day
I persuaded him to read “Bret Harte” aloud to me. It was delicious to
see this highly-educated Mahomedan--he was an excellent fellow--sitting
cross-legged on the ground, solemnly declaiming the “Heathen Chinee.”
As I laughed, I said, “By Jove! it _is_ funny!”
He said he thought it was very difficult and very incorrect English.
I told him that was just where the joke came in. He smiled politely,
and asked why I said “By Joe!” He had often heard Englishmen use the
expression, and knew that Joe was an abbreviation of Joseph, though why
we should say “By Joe,” or who Joe was, he had not heard. I explained
the origin of the expression, and described Jove as the god of the
Romans.
I asked him if he had considered the Christian Religion. He told
me he had studied the Jewish Bible and the Christian Testament. He
could not understand how a race so intellectual as the English could
accept the--to him--incomprehensible idea of three Gods. I said that
Christians believed in one God only, and I endeavoured to illustrate
the Trinity in Unity by describing the trinity that exists in every
man: of will, intellect, and deed. To do anything one must first have
the wish, or will, from that is begotten the thought how to do it, then
comes the deed. He did not discuss the point.
He said another thing that puzzled and surprised him considerably was
the custom among the English of selling their wives. I said,
“But Englishmen do not sell their wives.”
“Yes,” he said, “and, moreover, it is published in the newspapers when
they do so.”
“What on earth do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean this: an English woman becomes wearied of her husband,
and prefers another to him. The man who is preferred is called a
‘co-respondent.’ Straightway they go before the Kasi--the Magistrate,
and, after much discussion, it is decided at what price the
co-respondent shall buy the woman. The money is then paid to the
husband.”
This gave me a sort of shock.
“People of my race,” he continued, calmly, “do differently. When a
woman prefers another to her husband--they kill her.”
I asked if he were married. He said “No.”
[Sidenote: Plurality of Wives.]
“Do you,” I said, “consider that a plurality of wives is to be desired?”
“Among people of my race,” he replied, “a plurality of wives is lawful;
but that which is lawful is not always expedient.”
“In what way is it inexpedient?” I asked.
“Firstly, there is the question of expense. Secondly, a plurality of
wives is a source of constant annoyance and anxiety. One wife will live
in peace with her husband; but with two or more, there is no peace: for
ever they are quarrelling.”
[Illustration]