Furthermore, there was the Roman Catholic bishop of the district; and he also objected (and again most naturally and rightly from his point of view) to the coming of an institution that might put backbone into the “heretical” church which he was in process of annexing gradually to the one true fold. We must own that his lordship’s methods of going to work in the matter were perhaps a little crude; but the fact is, that it is the grossest injustice to judge the modern East by a twentieth-century standard. If you[{322}] choose to go and live in mediæval times (somewhere in the thirteenth century let us say), you must not complain if the people act in fashion reminiscent of that age. It is best to cultivate a sense of historical perspective instead, and enjoy the picturesqueness of things.
The bishop in question was not a European himself, but a native of the country, and a member of the Chaldæan Church; and there is not the slightest reason for thinking that his tutors (the Dominican Fathers of Mosul) were aware of his rather mediæval methods. He would not be likely to report too definitely to them (if he had any direct correspondence with them at all, which is not probable) on the broad principle, familiar in that land, that there are things which a Frank can never be got to understand, and which for the sake of his peace of mind he had better not know! His immediate superior, the Chaldæan Patriarch, may have been better informed. He is an Oriental and so of an understanding mind; a vigorous mind withal, and not troubled with needless scruples.
It being then desirable to remove the intruding Englishman, his lordship’s first step was to request the Vali to issue an order to that effect, on the ground that the writer’s morals were so abominably bad, that the Kurds could not tolerate his presence. This attempt failed; the Vali taking the line that Kurdish morals were not his business, and that in any case he thought that even an Englishman could hardly make them worse than they were. We regret to say that his Excellency, having given this decision, went to lunch with the British Consul in order to share the ribald joke.
Foiled there, his lordship the bishop next appealed to the local Kurds. “If you allow that Englishman to settle there” he told them, “he will set the Government on to you, every time you go a-raiding; and you will never be able to rob a Christian village in peace and safety again.” Of course the fact was true enough; or rather, it was true that the foreigner would do his best to produce that desirable result, as far as the narrow limits of his power extended; and it was all to the good that the Kurds should[{323}] believe it. Still, as an Episcopal argument, it was odd. However, it is the general feeling of the East, that there is no stone too dirty to throw at your enemy; and that if you set a train for his destruction, there is never any risk of your getting hoist with your own petard. It is, after all, only the mediæval feeling, that it was quite fair to call in the devil to do your work, and then cheat him of his pay!
Another argument urged upon the Kurds by the bishop was that the coming of the English meant annexation in the near future. However, this “back-fired” sadly. Many Kurds, after inquiring if the tale was really true, exclaimed: “Glory be to Allah! Let us hope the English will be quicker about it than they sometimes are.” For a very fair proportion of the men in every tribe are really sick of the state of no-government around them. They are tired of disorder, more than tired of the Turk; and have discovered that raiding really does not pay in the long run. Good sport it is; but the outgoings are too heavy. No raids will pay for the up-keep of a large “following” for ever; and yet if you practise raiding, a large following must be kept up. So, unable to establish any sort of government other than the tribal themselves, they are disposed to welcome almost any change, or the intervention of almost any foreigner. Though, of course, however welcome a foreigner might be at first, he would be sure to get cordially hated later when the sweets of order palled in their turn.
Some Kurdish gentlemen were disposed to welcome the coming of the English for other and more personal reasons. Among these was a certain Agha Reshid of Ghara (a distinct man from his namesake of Berwar) whose fame as a murderer rivalled even that of the Agha of Châl. This distinguished man came to visit us one day, sadly scaring our household staff by the train that he thought necessary for his dignity; and perhaps for his safety also, for both the Government and his private enemies had designs upon him.
“Will you receive him, Rabbi?” said the servants, “he is the man who has committed fifteen murders himself.”
He proved, however, to be, like Lambro, “as mild a mannered[{324}] man as ever scuttled ship or cut a throat;” and after the usual compliments, disclosed his real business. “Could we see our way to registering him as a British subject?” The fact was, as he explained, that his enemies were getting quite troublesome to him now, over the crimes they said he had committed; and if we could oblige him in this, then he would be entitled to Consular protection, and that would give him a clean slate. As usual, in return for that favour he would cheerfully undertake the removal of any enemies of ours whom we named.
We could only regret our inability to do him the service asked, and explain that there was really nobody whom we wished to have murdered; a statement which in the light of our known relations to our neighbours was received with an incredulity that was courteous, but quite undisguised. In the interests of science, however, we had to put one further question. “O Agha, that thing which your enemies say of you concerning those fifteen murders; is it true at all?”
“O Effendim,” he answered coolly; “they were all of them my enemies but two. And one of them was a Jew who had looked at my womankind.”