LETTER XXXVIII.
As we advanced towards the southward and eastward, in our way from Diarbeker towards Bagdad, I found the air became sensibly warmer, and observed that the disposition of the people grew more and more brutal. My guide’s conduct (for he knew them well) became proportionately artful, and my manners were of course to grow so much the humbler. I observed, however, that his authority continued the same, and that he seemed to exert it with greater rigour; not in severity or chastisement, but in exacting implicit obedience. Yet still he evidently acted with great caution and circumspection; for, in some districts, he either avoided the little villages by a circuitous route, or dashed through them at a very quick pace, while the gaping multitude considered us as on a dispatch of haste and importance—in others, he entered the towns without reserve, and left it to chance to decide whether we should be discovered or not. At some caravanseras he treated me with affected negligence, at others he made me eat with him and drink wine, of which, in some places, he himself drank copiously, and at others as scrupulously refrained from. And sometimes we lay at night out in the open air, rather than enter a town; on which occasions I found the weather as piercing cold as it was distressfully hot in the day time. Bred, as the man was, a mixture of slave and tyrant, I can suppose some parts of this conduct to arise from caprice; but as he was naturally kind, as many of those aberrations from the usual mode of travelling were attended with hardship and inconvenience to himself, and as my servant and the other Tartar were clearly of opinion he was right, I am rather disposed to believe that he, on the whole, acted from, principles of sound sense and policy.
He frequently advised me against indulging in laughter; said it was unmanly, indecorous, inconsistent with the gravity becoming a wise man, and withal dangerous.
One evening we came to a caravansera much fatigued, the day being extremely hot, and we having rode very hard—whether it was caprice or fatigue, or the suggestion of policy that moved him, I cannot say, but he certainly was more disposed to play the tyrant than I had ever before seen him. He flogged the men who took the horses, kicked every one he met, made the house ring with his enormous voice; directed supper to be got ready, ate growling, and finding fault with every thing; and under pretence of disliking the ingredients of an excellent pillaw, handed it over to me, saying, Here, Jimmel (the name he called me), here, take this filth, and cram it down thy coarse throat, it is only fit for a Frank—I took it with the best air of humility I could assume; and tearing the meat with my fingers, which I also used instead of a spoon to eat the rice, swallowed it eagerly; he watching me all the time attentively. When I had finished it, I gave him a hint in the Frank language, that I should like to wash it down with some wine; but he did not, or rather would not, understand me.
Supper done, he ordered a servant to attend him with some water, and directed him to wash his feet; while that operation was performing, he continued menacing every one about him. My servant, who sat next me and behind him, interpreted every thing he said. “Yes, ye slaves,” said he, as he lolled back upon his cushion, “yes, I will make the best of you wash my feet; for who shall refuse to wash the feet of him, who represents the Sultan of the World, the Son of Mahomet, the Messenger of the Lord?” The poor fellow proceeded in his humble office, and only interrupted him by saying, “Blessed be my Lord the Sultan, and glory be to the Lord our God, and Mahomet his Prophet.”—“Yes, yes,” continued my Tartar, “bless God and the Prophet, and pray for his servant our Sultan, and all who represent him like me, that slaves of your description are permitted to live: nay, thou shalt wash this Frank’s feet:” then, turning to me with an air of magisterial tenderness, “Jimmel,” said he, “hold forth thy feet, and let them be washed by this disciple of Ali—I say, hold forth thy feet.”
Scarcely able to refrain from laughter at this Bombardinian of the East, and his pompous manner of issuing his orders, I drew up my trowsers and took off my boots—the man brought fresh water, and fell to rubbing my feet with great good will and humility; yet evidently felt so much hurt at the humiliation, that I was sorry for it, and would rather have dispensed with the washing, though it was a luxury.
In the midst of this operation, the Tartar, who was reclining on his cushion, smoking, rose up, and stalking two or three times across the room, with the most ludicrous air of self-conceit and importance, took his tobacco pipe from his mouth, brandished it in ostentatious parade, and in the tone and manner rather of one that was raving than of a man in his sober senses, burst out with an emphatical expression of satisfaction, and said, “This it is to be protected by a great man: Mussulmen salam to him and wash his feet.”
The extravagance of this sentiment, the absurdity of its application, and the consequential solemnity of his action and countenance while he spoke, altogether rushed upon me with such impetuous force, that I could not resist it, and, in spite of every effort to restrain myself, burst into an immoderate fit of laughter.
Had I the pencil of Hogarth, the pen of Shakespeare, or the powers of a Garrick, I might attempt to give some idea of his countenance, when, turning, he beheld me convulsed with laughter. I might attempt it, I say, but I could not do it justice. Such a combination of ludicrous expression I never beheld; it was indeed an epitome of all the lower order of human passions. Fury predominated, but it was risible fury—it was fury that rather grinned than frowned; though under it were to be seen shame and mortification, sorrow and resentment, pride and degradation, silly bashfulness and decayed importance. For some time he stood transfixed to the spot, his eyes glistening like those of a rat in a trap; his pointed whiskers moving with the contortions of his lips, and his mouth every now and then opening like the beak of a wounded hawk. To utter his sensations he was unable; and he continued in this state, not only till my laughter was abated, but till I had time to reflect and be seriously concerned.
At length, without saying a sentence, he wheeled about, threw off his slippers, drew on his boots, vociferated till he brought all the people of the caravansera about him, and ordered horses to be ready instantly. As orders from such a person were not likely to be disobeyed, the horses were got ready. I saw that I must either proceed, or come to an open rupture with him; so recollecting that I was myself in fault, that a dispute might be fatal, and that at all events it was only the humour of the moment, I drew on my boots too, and was ready to go, though I was much fitter for a twelve hours’ nap than for an hour’s travelling on horseback.
We mounted immediately, and it was my good fortune to have the best horse. He set out upon the gallop, the moon shining as bright almost as day; I put forward my horse, and kept rather before him, which vexed him so, that he beat the poor animal he rode on most unmercifully. At length, after about eight or ten miles riding, he called a halt—dismounted, and said he would rest there all night. I saw it was all resentment: but knowing that it would be in vain to remonstrate, I dismounted too; and, judging that the best way to mortify him in return, was to comply with affected approbation, turned to my servant and told him (knowing that it would go from him to the Tartar) that I was delighted with the beauty of the night; remarking at the same time, that lying in the sweet salubrious air was far preferable to being confined in the sultry filth of a caravansera.
As soon as this was communicated to the Tartar, he remarked, that the open air was the fittest place for the beasts of the forest, and therefore suitable to a Frank; but for his part, he would much rather repose on a cushion, which he should have done, had it not been for my accursed risible faculties.
Here the conversation rested, and we fell asleep. In a few hours he awoke us, and we set forward: after some pause, he began in the following manner, which was interpreted to me, as he spoke, by my servant:
“Surely God made laughter for the derision and shame of mankind, and gave it to the Franks and the monkies; for the one ha, ha, ha’s, and the other he, he, he’s, and both are malicious, mischievous, and good for nothing but to fret and tantalize all that come across them.”
Here he paused, as waiting for something to be said: however, I remained silent. At length, he continued: “Not but that, with all their laughter, they have the wisdom to take special care of themselves; for half a dozen monkies will he, he, he, and empty a whole orchard of its fruit in the reckoning of a hundred; and a Frank will ha, ha, ha, and eat you up pillaws, and poultry like a wolf, and drink up wine with the same moderation that a camel drinks up water.”
I thought I should have choked with smothered laughter: I would not however interrupt him, and so contrived to keep it to myself: he proceeded to apothegmatise:
“But with all their he, he, he’s, and ha, ha, ha’s, it sometimes turns out that they are caught: the monkey is seized in a trap, and caged or knocked in the head, and the Frank is put in jail, and bastinadoed or hanged; and then the tune is changed, and it is Oh, ho, ho!” Here he began to mimic crying so admirably, and at the same time so ridiculously, that I burst out laughing again.
“Observe, Jimmel,” said he hastily, “observe! you can’t refrain! But by our holy Prophet,” said he seriously, “it may end as I said: so look to yourself, and avoid laughter in caravanseras, or we part; for there are places, and that was one of them last night, where suspicion would ruin you. And if you lost your life, what should I say for myself on my return to Aleppo? Eh, what should I say for myself? Ha, ha ha! would not do. No, no, they would not believe it, and I should lose my character.”
“Why, don’t you laugh yourself?” said I.
“Very seldom, or rather never,” returned he; “at least I would not in time of danger. No, no, none but Christians and monkies make a practice of laughing—Turks and Tartars are wiser.” I promised, him, that I would in future take more care; and, by way of appeasing him with a little flattery, said, that he played his part so admirably, it was impossible to resist the impulse. But he answered, with a grave face, that his action in that case was of too serious a nature to be made a subject of merriment—and advised me to believe it so.