It is not the custom of Haïl to smoke, either from Wahhabi prejudice, or, as I am more inclined to think, because tobacco has never penetrated so far inland in quantities sufficient to make the habit general. No objection, however, has been made to Wilfrid’s pipe, which he smokes when and where he chooses, and this evening when the call to prayer sounded, and the Emir and Hamúd had gone out to perform their devotions, the old man I have just mentioned, Nassr ibn Hezani, hinted without more ceremony that he should like a whiff. He has quarrelled with Ibn Saoud, and probably hates all the Wahhabi practices, and was very glad to take the opportunity of committing this act of wickedness. He was careful, however, to return the pipe before the rest came back. He, at any rate, if a Wahhabi, is not one of the disagreeable sort described by Mr. Palgrave, for he invited us very cordially to go back home with him to Harík. The Emir, however, made rather a face at this suggestion, and gave such an alarming account of what would happen to us if we went to Riad, that I don’t think it would be wise to attempt to go there now. We could not go in fact without the Emir’s permission. I do not much care, for town life is wearisome; we have had enough of it, and I have not much curiosity to see more of Nejd, unless we can go among the Bedouins there. If Ibn Saoud still had his collection of mares the sight of them would be worth some risk, but his stud has long since been scattered, and Nassr ibn Hezani assures us that there is nothing now in Arabia to compare with Ibn Rashid’s stud. Ibn Hezani, like everybody else, laughs at the story of a Nejd breed, and says, as everybody else does, that the mares at Riad were a collection made by Feysul ibn Saoud in quite recent times.
Later in the evening, a native goldsmith was introduced, with a number of articles worked by him at Haïl. They were pretty, but not specially interesting, or very unlike what may be seen elsewhere, dagger hilts and sheaths, and a few ornaments. It was this man, however, who had made the gold hilts which all the princely family here wear to their swords. These we examined, and found the work really good.
The most amusing incident of the evening, however, and one which we were not at all prepared for, was the sudden production by the Emir of one of those toys called telephones, which were the fashion last year in Europe. This the Emir caused two of his slaves to perform with, one going into the courtyard outside, and the other listening. The message was successfully delivered, the slave outside, to make things doubly sure, shouting at the top of his voice, “Ya Abdallah weyn ente? yeridak el Emir.” “O Abdallah, where are you? the Emir wants you,” and other such phrases. We expressed great surprise, as in duty bound; indeed, it was the first time we had actually seen the toy, and it is singular to find so very modern an invention already at Haïl.
At about ten o’clock, the Emir began to yawn, and we all got up and wished him good-night. He very kindly sent for, and gave me, a number of trengs and oranges, which he gave orders should be conveyed to our house, together with a new-laid ostrich’s egg, the “first of the season,” which had just been brought to him from the Nefûd.
CHAPTER XI.
“I shall do well:
The people love me, and the Desert’s mine;
My power’s a crescent, and my auguring hope
Says it will come to the full.”Shakespeare.
Political and historical—Shepherd role in Arabia—An hereditary policy—The army—The law—Taxation—The finances of Jebel Shammar—Ibn Rashid’s ambition.
The following is the result of our inquiries made while at Haïl into the political condition and resources of the country. It has no pretension to rigid accuracy, especially in the figures given, but it will serve to convey an idea of the kind of government found in Arabia, and of the capacity for self-rule of the Arab race.
The political constitution of Jebel Shammar is exceedingly curious; not only is it unlike anything we are accustomed to in Europe, but it is probably unique, even in Asia. It would seem, in fact, to represent some ancient form of government indigenous to the country, and to have sprung naturally from the physical necessities of the land, and the character of its inhabitants. I look upon Ibn Rashid’s government as in all likelihood identical with that of the Kings of Arabia, who came to visit Solomon, and of the Shepherd Kings who, at a still earlier date, held Egypt and Babylonia; and I have little doubt that it owes its success to the fact of its being thus in harmony with Arab ideas and Arab tradition. To understand it rightly, one ought to consider what Arabia is, and what the Arab character and mode of life. The whole of the peninsula, with the exception, perhaps, of Yemen, and certain districts of Hadramaut within the influence of the monsoon winds, is a rainless, waterless region, in every sense of the word a desert. The soil is a poor one, mainly of gravel or of sand, and except in a few favoured spots, unsuited for cultivation; indeed, no cultivation is possible at all in Nejd, except with the help of irrigation, and, as there is no water above ground, of irrigation from wells. Even wells are rare. The general character of the central plateaux, and of the peninsula, is that of vast uplands of gravel, as nearly destitute of vegetation as any in the world, and incapable of retaining water, even at a great depth. It is only in certain depressions of the plain, several hundred feet lower than the general level, that wells as a rule are found, and wherever these occur with a sufficient supply of water, towns and villages with gardens round them, have sprung up. These, however, are often widely apart, showing as mere spots on the map of Arabia, and unconnected with each other by any intervening district of agricultural land. Indeed, it is not too much to say, that Nejd contains no agricultural region, as we understand agriculture, and that all its production is garden produce. From this state of things, it happens that there is also no rural class, and that each town is isolated from its neighbours to a degree impossible with us. The desert surrounds them like a sea, and they have no point of contact one with the other in the shape of intervening fields or villages, or even intervening pastures. They are isolated in the most literal sense, and from this fact has sprung the political individuality it has always been their care to maintain. Each city is an independent state.