None of the houses in Akra can be called in any way palatial, and probably the malmudir’s lodging was a typical residence of the better class. He occupied a single apartment on the first floor, the big landing outside serving as his kitchen and servant’s room, and the ground floor consisting only of an entrance hall and lumber room. The furniture of his living room (as usual) consisted only of carpets and cushions. The windows were set very low down, so that one could see out of them comfortably when squatting on the floor; and above them were square recesses which served as receptacles for books.
He gave us a capital supper, consisting of fried eggs,[{130}] rissoles wrapped in cabbage, and a curry of meat and fruit. This was served in several dishes on one large tray, round which we all sat cross-legged straying from dish to dish with our wooden spoons. We had only one tumbler between the three of us, which we all used in turn; and the meal was concluded with the usual tiny cups of coffee.[78]
Meanwhile he poured out his woes to us: woes with which we could heartily sympathize, and which afforded an instructive commentary upon the progress of Turkish “Reform.” He himself was a native of Aleppo, a Syrian Catholic Christian. He had been duly trained for his post in the Government offices at Constantinople; and had received his present appointment in pursuance of that great Principle which was first enunciated at the Revolution, recognizing that Christians and Moslems should possess equal standing in the State. This admirable theory worked fairly in Constantinople itself, and even at the more accessible provincial capitals such as Smyrna and Aleppo; but alas for its practical efficacy in such out-of-the-way districts as Mosul! It would take at least a generation for reform to filter through here! Here all the administrative offices had been long since cornered by the invincibly corrupt “Old Gang;” a set of pig-headed reactionaries whose dead weight nothing could shift. What use was it to tell them that Christians and Moslems were equal, when the Koran expressly stated that they were emphatically not? Why should they use the powers that were their inalienable birthright to make true believers obey a Christian dog?
Accordingly the poor malmudir found himself cold-shouldered and thwarted at every turn by the officials who were nominally his colleagues; by the cadi, or judge of the district; by the binbashi who controlled the police. They persistently refused to support him in carrying out his own duties, particularly if the defaulters whom he wished to bring to book chanced to be their own private friends; and[{131}] their continual snubbing of him had infected even his own subordinates who obeyed him grudgingly and reluctantly. The kaimakam, his immediate chief, had indeed always shown himself friendly; but even with his support he felt he could make no headway; and, though still but new to his office, he was already sick of the job. Indeed he had already written twice to the Vali begging to be transferred to Beirut or Aleppo, but as yet he had received no answer. This however, we privately thought, was not surprising; for Tahir Pasha never answers anybody; and every official in his vilayet would like to be transferred to Beirut or Aleppo if he could!
Of course it is not at all improbable that centuries of subjection have left the Christians in Turkey constitutionally unfit for positions of authority: that, for all their superior intelligence, they are at present as incapable of governing Turks and Kurds and Arabs as the Bengali Babus are of governing Pathans and Sikhs. But even if the power is latent in them, it is bound at first to be exercised in the face of intense resentment; and this fact will long constitute a formidable obstacle to any constitutional reform.
It seemed that the malmudir’s welcome to us was to some extent accounted for by the distinction which European visitors would confer upon him in the eyes of his carping colleagues. He was earnest with us to remain as his guests for a second day in order that he might exhibit us; but from this we begged to excuse ourselves as we could not spare the time. However, faute de mieux, we might at least call on the kaimakam, and thither our host conducted us as soon as we had finished our coffee.
The kaimakam resided in the Government House, a dilapidated two-story building disposed around a forlorn courtyard and generally resembling a khan. It was picturesque enough in a slummy way, and the groups of soldiers snoozing under the lanterns in the deep entrance archway would merit yet higher commendation. But there was little enough of traditional “Oriental glamour” about the dirty white-washed walls; and the governor’s official audience hall resembled an ill-kept village school-room.[{132}] Conversation turned on the Italian war; a subject on which all parties were profoundly ignorant; for we had heard nothing since leaving Europe, and the kaimakam nothing but what Government channels allowed to filter through. The Government does not encourage the dissemination of inauspicious news; and herein no doubt they act prudently, for such news might easily excite the Kurds to break out in reprisals against the nearest Christians. But it is certainly somewhat amazing to discover how thoroughly authentic intelligence can be stifled. They had heard of nothing but Turkish victories: have very likely heard nothing else to this day.[79]
Two or three of the prominent residents dropped in to chat while we were sitting there; but the resident whom we would most have wished to see was unfortunately not among them. For among the inhabitants of Akra is an old gentleman of the bluest blood in Asia—the last living descendant of the Khalif Harun al Raschid the hero of the Arabian Nights. Akra formed a part of the Abbassides’ ancestral principality before they attained to the Khalifate; and when their dynasty was overthrown by the Seljuk Sultans in 1050, it was to their ancient patrimony that they retired again. Now even this last possession has also slipped through their fingers; and the poor old survivor, though his social status is impregnable, lives on, as a private citizen of Akra, in very reduced circumstances indeed.
Our final impressions of Akra were gleaned in the bazaar, and induce us to rank it more highly as a centre of sport than of business. “Rabbi Mr. Wigram” had needed some trifling repair to his boots, and had accordingly sent them overnight to a cobbler. But when the boots were returned next morning, the part that needed repair had been ignored completely, and the repairer had only displayed his forethought by appropriating the English nails.
Akra, however, in this respect had certainly shown more[{133}] enterprize than Mosul; for the Sheikh Birader Effendi had previously tried his fortune there. He had the prescience to allow three days for the job; but when the boots were demanded on the morning of the fourth day they had not even lost their nails. Friday (it was explained) had been the Mohammedan Sabbath, and Saturday the Jewish, and Sunday the Christian; and no doubt a Bank Holiday on Monday was only averted by the fact of the boots being prematurely reclaimed.[80]