I think the study of character and the endeavouring to form conclusions as to the course of action that will probably be taken up by any given individual under different circumstances, is one of the most fascinating of studies. Here was a case at hand, under my own eye, as it were.
I had studied the Armenian for a couple of years or so and had come to conclusions. I knew what he would do, and I would watch the development of his character under the altered circumstances of life in England. I would observe the enlargement of his mind as I gradually fed it with greater and greater wonders.
In India I had thought I would spare him as much as possible on the journey, lest he became bewildered by the traffic and the bustle of the railway, but, somehow, it did not seem to be necessary.
He bought a satchel, slung it over his shoulder, asked for the money—which he kept—took my ticket; paid the hotel bills; looked after my baggage; chose the best seat in the railway carriage for me; bullied other people’s servants if they tried to take the seat for their masters,—I heard one man, a Civil Service official, say, “I fancy the Amîr in all his glory must be coming down in this train”—and altogether he behaved as if he knew all about it. However, I thought, when we get to the sea and the great floating Hotel, the P. & O. boat, the education will begin. He will be astonished. Perhaps he was, but I did not see it. He took everything as a matter of course; apparently he knew it all before; doubtless in some other cycle of existence. He wasn’t even sea-sick.
London, with its thousands, its grandeur, its turmoil of business, this will take him aback: the wonder of it must needs appal him.
Appal! He hadn’t been in London a fortnight before he could tell me what ’bus to take and what the fare was. He knew all about the “Inner and Outer Circles,” which is more than I do; and before long could give an opinion on the relative merits of a considerable number of the music halls and theatres in the Metropolis.
It was I who was bewildered, not he. What manner of man is this, I thought, will nothing astonish him?
I got orders from the Government for him to visit the Mint, Woolwich Arsenal, and other places, and he compared them to similar establishments in Afghanistan, to the disparagement of the English ones! I took him to Whiteley’s, saying, in a casual way, “This is an English shop.” He took it quietly, but before he left he had accepted an invitation to a banquet at the Metropôle that the employées at that establishment were giving. Moreover, at the dinner he got up and made a fluent speech!
At my wedding he created a great sensation. He appeared before us on that occasion in Afghan costume, and attracted, next to the bride, by far the greatest amount of attention: I was a necessary, but unnoticeable appendage: a sort of after thought; and all the little girls fell in love with him. After the ceremony he came into the Vestry and signed his name, in Persian, in the Register as witness. He said it was Persian, but it was hard to tell. He explained the peculiarity of his writing by stating that a warrior is not a clerk.
Return to India.