A kaimakam, and an inspector of the “Regie” (the Governmentally recognized tobacco monopoly) both reside at Neri; and are generously provided with apartments in the fine house built by the Sheikh out of the profits of the industry which their official duty is to stop. But both of these domestic animals are most gratifyingly tame.
Not all of the Sheikh’s income went in rifles, or even in bakhshish. He once wrote politely to the author, asking for a recommendation to an English bank, as he had some savings to deposit with them. The writer named a bank or two; and knowing that his Holiness expected ten to fifteen[{164}] per cent. on money ready at call, did not think much would follow. But eventually some thousands of pounds did actually find their way to Lombard Street; for this prince of tobacco smugglers was in very solvent circumstances indeed! A Kurdish brigand chief with a large banking account in England sounds a wildly impossible conception. Yet William Hickey records how another wholesale smuggler hailed a homeward-bound China clipper in mid channel, and purchased all her skipper’s private stock of tea with a cheque for £800, which was accepted without the least demur. So such things were certainly done in the England of 1770!
Saddik was a terrible oppressor of Christians in his early days, and his deliberate murder of one particular bishop, whom he had invited to his house as a guest, shocked even the robust Kurdish conscience.[99] Years brought wisdom, however; and he realized that to massacre or dispossess good cultivators was bad economy. So such as remain are allowed to live, though it must be owned that their condition is but very little removed from serfdom. Among these properties of his is an Archbishop. The second dignitary of the Nestorian Church, the Metropolitan Mar Khanan-Ishu, resides in the Sheikh’s country. He lives of course in his own monastic house, and is allowed the use of his own property; but he is practically a prisoner in the hands of “that Great One,” maintained much as the Norman adventurers in Italy maintained certain Popes, as the readiest instrument for governing their own subjects.
Both officially and personally, as hereditary Sheikh of Shamsdin, and as an Imaum of eminence, Sheikh Saddik had a great reputation among Moslems, and knotty problems came to him for solution. Thus it was at his “diwan” that a perplexed tribesman presented himself one day with a fine cock under his arm, and the query, “What ought to be done with this fowl? It has taken to preaching Christianity!” He was asked for an explanation, and told how three times in his hearing the bird had proclaimed,[{165}] “The religion is the religion of Jesus.” And sure enough when the cock was produced in evidence it immediately repeated at the top of its voice “Din Din el Seyidna Isa”; or at least what all present unanimously interpreted as being those words. That it was a miracle none doubted: but was it of Allah, or of Sheitan? If the latter, of course the owner could wring the cock’s neck and the incident would be closed. If the former, ought he, a good Mussulman, to obey it and turn Christian?
The Sheikh considered the matter; and gave an answer that at once showed some skill in casuistry, and was as bitter and well merited a gibe at Christian divisions as one could wish. The miracle was declared to be from Allah; and the cock must in no wise be slain, but preserved as an honoured and sacred fowl. However, there were many sects of Christians, and each one claimed that its particular version of Christianity was “the religion of Seyidna Isa.” The cock had given no evidence as to which was the right one; so, until all Christians should agree together, or till the bird should give another and more explicit oracle, no true believer need do anything. It is an episode that shows many aspects of the Oriental mind.
Sheikh Saddik was a ruffian, but a fine and strong character withal. His son and successor, Taha, has inherited all his ruffianism without the stronger qualities. At the age of nineteen years he weighed precisely that number of stone; and when a day’s journey was unavoidable, it took two sturdy mules, with specially padded saddles, to bear his gross carcass along the way. He has the bad taste to wear European clothes (or what he takes to be such, corduroy trousers and butcher boots), and presents a strong family resemblance to the “Claimant.” His younger brother, Sheikh Musa, once fell foul of the British military Consul from Van, in a way that has since been vigorously impressed on his memory. The officer in question, accompanied by the writer, arrived at this place in the spring of 1909; and the party was of course entertained as guests of the house in the absence of the master. We had arrived at noon, and had sent the horses out to pasture and rest, when one of[{166}] the katarjis came running up with tidings much resembling those of the servants of Job, and in much the same state of mind as that of those unfortunates. The Sabaeans, represented by the personal servants of the Sheikh, had come down on the animals as they were feeding, and disregarding all protests had carried off every one!
There was of course a tremendous storm, for a deadlier insult to guest and British Consul could hardly be imagined; and the tame kaimakam was required to procure the instant return of the stolen property. He, poor man, was grievously perplexed between his fear of the Consul on the one hand, and his fear of his proprietor on the other. Between the two, he collapsed in something very like tears, ejaculating “What can I do? They were the Sheikh’s men who took them.” He did send out his two zaptiehs, with a consular kavass, to bring back the beasts; but as soon as they were outside the village, those two worthies sat themselves on the ground and informed the kavass that, kaimakam or no kaimakam, they were not going to do anything against the Sheikh’s followers if they knew it!
The animals were returned that evening; and it came out that Sheikh Musa had suddenly conceived the idea that he would give a picnic to his womenkind; wherefore the order “bring horses” had been issued, and obedience to it was expected.
“There are no horses, your Greatness,” the servants had said.
“No horses? There are horses!” pointing to the meadow where the Consul’s animals were at grass.