“For what were his very next words? I could hardly believe my ears as those words fell upon me. ‘Why,’ said he in grave and tragic tones, slowly separating them syllable by syllable, ‘why do you thus remain ground down by such an iniquity as the tax upon Salt?’
“My heart stood still. I ventured discreetly to touch his foot with that one of my own which was nearest. He replied by treading heavily upon my toe, which I interpreted as a signal of secret friendship. But I was terribly concerned to note that the native Lords around, squatted upon the same platform as myself, wagged their heads in unison when this monstrous suggestion was made, and by their murmurs of agreement interrupted the awful silence which followed.
“That silence did not last for long. Once more, but with stronger decision, with larger hope, there arose from the vast assembly the same tumult of applause. Every man rose to his feet. Someone began to sing, then all sang in unison their famous hymn, which asks in stirring words and air whether one Hussein shall die and asserts with the utmost vehemence that if this most unfortunate event should come to pass no less than twenty thousand inhabitants of the peninsula province of Bar-el-sul would demand a full explanation of the occurrence. The words might not seem apposite to a stranger, but in the dignified and strongly national atmosphere of Izmat their purport is well understood. They can be suited to almost any occasion of popular passion, and at this moment most undoubtedly might be interpreted to mean ‘To Eblis with the Salt Tax.’
“I was by this time frozen to my marrow. I was bewildered. I could hardly doubt the friendship between Tarib and myself. I had shown him so many favours. Even now, as I looked at him, I found him very sympathetic—and so familiar! I could not doubt the force of familiar converse, I could not doubt my hosts and colleagues, the Councillors, who had for now three years sat with me round His Majesty in Divan and worked with me as one of the Chief Ministers there.
“The next words slightly, but only slightly, reassured me. They were more after the style I knew so well, when, in the past, the national glory in doing nothing had been expressed with peculiar skill. The Lord Doubler assumed a piteous expression and his mouth, the shape of which might now be compared to that of a horseshoe, opened. ‘Let me not stir you up, my friends,’ said he, ‘to a violent anger. We can leave froth and vindictive folly to the pitiful peoples of the mainland. We in Izmat, thanks be to Allah, will never lose our dignity in mere brawling. Let us confine ourselves to constitutional means, the only ones whereby anything practical can be accomplished.’ Applause also met these sentiments, more subdued, indeed, than that which we had first heard, but sincere. ‘My friends around me,’ and he smiled on all the Councillors, including myself, ‘will deliberate, as we always do, for the public good, and you will find that our recommendations thus laid before His Majesty, with the ensuing Proclamation, will be the beginning of better things. We cannot say that all this evil shall be redressed at once. We are a practical people, as I think I have remarked before. You have indeed cried to me for redress; but we are, I say it again, a practical people. We do not attempt the impossible or tear up the ancient framework of our State. Step by step is our motto. One thing at a time. The advance of His Majesty’s subjects in freedom and happiness has increased in breadth by imperceptible degrees from one decision in the past to another, as our great poet has so admirably put it; and again, not once or twice in the far from smooth sequence of our insular activities has the mere fulfilment of our daily tasks proved an approach to distinction.’ These verses (which in the original form noble lines of poetry) made a fitting conclusion to one of those great speeches which from time to time determined the fate of Izmat.
“We all rose; the audience and the Councillors and the orator himself united in chanting that portion of the Koran which details Mahomet’s visit to the moon (a religious exercise dear to this folk). We then sang an invocation to Allah that he might protect His Majesty the King and throw any hypothetical enemies of that monarch into the utmost confusion. Then we filed out of the Mosque in our thousands to the coolness of the declining day. That great, that historic, that fatal meeting had occupied four hours!
“The Council was immediately summoned, and their first action, after their obeisance to the King upon his throne, was to assure me, individual by individual, that no idea of any attack upon me had been for one moment intended.
“‘It is, my dear Mahmoud,’ said the Grand Vizier, placing his hand familiarly upon mine as it lay listless upon my knee, ‘it is the principle of the matter which we must consider. That is it.’ He pressed my hand on the other side. ‘For yourself, Mahmoud, as you know, we have a respect which exceeds all bounds, but we must move with the times. Things are not what they were. Evolution is better than revolution. If we do not reform ourselves, things will reform us. Mend it or end it. What did the Sultan Omar say in the thirty-seventh year of the Flight of the Prophet?’
“These commonplaces fell mournfully upon my ears. I made no attempt to reply. His Majesty was pleased to say a few sympathetic words. The Tribune Tarib, who evidently felt embarrassed by my position and by his memories of our past friendship, most earnestly protested that his whole object had been to stem the growing dangerous demand—nay, he would go so far as to say perilous demand; nay more, a minatory demand; yea, a threatening demand. Had he not stemmed the demand as he had it would have had tremendous consequences in the way of demand. The great lord whose special function on the Council was solemnity and who was known by the title of His Impressiveness, opened his mouth in the midst of his prodigious beard to say that he thoroughly agreed with these sentiments.
“For my part I said nothing, but sat mournfully, seeing no issue and attending the pleasure of those who could do what they would with me and mine. I heard their debate: I was asked to sign their conclusions. I did so with a reluctant, unwilling hand; and as I signed my name in its place and affixed my seal I glanced at the wording of the Proclamation and felt some relief to discover that the Salt Tax was not abolished, but only halved, while the loss so occasioned was to be made good by a tax upon revenue of one dinar in each hundred—a very moderate amount.