Читать книгу The Thistle and the Cedar of Lebanon - Habeeb Risk Allah - Страница 8

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Once upon a time, many years ago, when good people were rather scarce upon the earth, and such men as Noah had ceased to exist, there dwelt a certain poor man at the city of Aleppo, whose name was—I forgot now exactly what; but as his heirs might not take it in good part, we had best leave the name-part of the business alone altogether. However, he was fortunate enough to pick up with a pretty little wife, whose smiles, so thought the lover, were like the dew of Hermon; instead of which, they proved to be very mildew in every sense of the word. Yusuf—so was the man called, but, I forgot, we must not mention it—married the fair Ankafir. First week, honey and kaymak, and everything nice and sweet; second week, necklaces and other jewellery required; third week, funds low, dinners scant, temper sour; fourth week, squalls matrimonial from morning to night, from night to morning.

“I tell you what it is, my dear,” quoth Yusuf, “either you must leave off blowing up, or I must take to bastinadoing: so just you choose the least evil.”

To hear her talk of his inhumanity—to hear her talk of her rich relations and their influence with the Pasha—to hear her storm about broken hearts, and, what is a great deal more serious and matter-of-fact, broken heads—I say, to hear her jabber about all this, was enough to turn a quiet, sober-minded man into a misanthrope for life; but, to feel the argument in the shape of sundry manipulations, cuffs on the ear, scratches, etc., this was beyond the endurance of a martyr; so thought Yusuf, so did his friends, and so did the evil counsellors that recommended him to resort to the use of water as an only alternative.

Now, I don’t mean to say, mind you, that they suggested, that water, as an every-day kind of a beverage, was likely to be productive of very beneficial effects; neither did they hint that arraki and water, though this latter has often done the job, would facilitate in ridding Yusuf of his incubus. The river Euphrates was thought deep enough—a casualty in the upset of a boat, plausible. The desperate husband took the hint. One day he had a headache. Next day, change of air was thought requisite, and the water-side recommended. He went to Berijek thence to the river-side. A friendly old boatman hired him a boat and his own personal services, and

“Upon the stream they got ’em.

The wind blew high; he blew his nose,

And—sent her to the bottom.”

She sunk, never again to rise, and the light-hearted husband leaped out of the boat and strolled along the river-side.

By and bye, a damp-looking old customer, half Neptune, half I don’t know what you may call it, comes walking up the river, just as coolly as a ship of war might float on the ocean, and as fresh as though he had only just got in for a dip, instead of having floated ever so many hundred miles.

“Salām alaykum,” says Yusuf, “I hope you’re well.”

“Peace, thou son of a swine,” says the stranger; “What do you mean by sending her there to bother us?”

“Who is it you mean, sir?”

“Who,” said the fierce little man, who was nothing more or less than the Jinn, or Spirit of the Water, “why her, to be sure, that vixen of a wife of yours, who has completely defiled the water. Why there is no peace any more in those regions, and I have come forth to take a signal vengeance on you: now choose what death you like—hanging, tearing to pieces, or impaling.”

“Sir,” said Yusuf, very humbly, “if you, who are possessed of so much power, cannot control her temper, how could I, a miserable mortal, hope to manage her?”

There was so much truth in this assertion, that the Jinn calmed down amazingly. “My friend,” quoth he, “I see you’re a sensible man; you and I will henceforth unite our fortunes; so just have the kindness to step upon my shoulders, and we will be off like a lightning-flash for Baghdad.” Yusuf did as he was desired; and in the course of the next hour they were safely housed in Baghdad. Now the Caliph had an only daughter, who was reported beautiful as the morning star.

“Would you like to have her,” quoth the Jinn, “for a wife?”

“Who, me, sir; I am very much obliged to you,” quoth Yusuf; “but I don’t exactly see how that is to be accomplished.”

“Oh, I will manage that part of the matter. You pass yourself off for a great hakeem. I will coil myself round the girl’s neck in the shape of a most venomous snake with two heads. No one shall be able to approach but you. You burn that bit of paper that I have written upon, and throw the ashes into water, and as it is demolished, so will I gradually disappear. The results will be the Caliph’s gratitude and his daughter’s hand and heart.”

Yusuf was very willing to do as he was bid. The feat was accomplished. He married the girl and settled down for life in easy circumstances. Some time after, the Jinn fell desperately in love with the Vizier’s daughter, and displayed his attachment in the rather uncongenial form of a viper. Now the Caliph had borne in mind the notoriety of his son-in-law in this peculiar species of malady; so when the Vizier came moaning and complaining that Yusuf would not go and cure his daughter, he sent his compliments to Yusuf, with a silken cord and the alternative carefully tied up in an embroidered pocket-handkerchief—of immediate compliance with his will—an arsenic pill or strangulation. Yusuf had no remedy, though he had faithfully promised the Jinn never to intrude upon his felicity. He hit, however, upon a plausible excuse, and being introduced into the presence of the Vizier’s daughter, he bent over her neck and whispered to the Jinn—

“I say, I’ve just dropped in to warn you that she is here in Baghdad, and looking for you.”

“Why, you don’t mean her?” said the alarmed Jinn.

“But I do though, sure as you are a ghost.”

“I say, you wont say where I am off to, will you,” says the Jinn; “but if you will just pack up your salāms and any other light articles you may wish to send to your friends, I’ll be happy to be the bearer. I’m off.”

“Are you, though?” says Yusuf

“Yes I am,” said the Jinn.

“I’d rather stem an angry wave

Than meet a storming woman.”

And so saying, he departed, and the Vizier’s daughter was healed.

Refreshments have been served at intervals; and the smoking has been incessant, the married ladies, especially mothers of families, indulging in whiffs at the narghili. It is considered unbecoming in a young lady to smoke, and they never do so in public: but as they often serve the narghili to distinguished guests, they are compelled to take some whiffs, as it is customary to present it lighted; and as this process does not appear to make them feel unwell, we naturally imagine that on the sly these young ladies frequently indulge themselves with a pipe. This, kind reader, is a fair sample of the manner in which the Damascus Christians amuse themselves during the evening.

Once Mr. Farren, the then British Consul-General at Damascus, gave a grand entertainment to celebrate the king’s birth-day. To this, my relative and myself were invited, in common with several of the Mahomedan chiefs and Christian inhabitants of Damascus, who were utterly astounded at the magnificent display of European luxury. The rooms were decorated with flags of all nations, and splendidly furnished à l’Anglaise; and it was probably the first fête of the kind that many of these people had ever witnessed. Every one was much charmed with the affable manners of the Consul, and impressed with the wealth and dignity of the nation he represented. And this kind of display was doubtless very beneficial in curbing the fanatical hatred of the Damascus Mahomedans towards Kuffar in general, which, at that time, raged to such a pitch, that no Christian could, without insult, traverse the streets of Damascus on horseback, especially with a white turban, till the interpreter of Mr. Farren ventured to break through the law. Amongst the Moslems in Syria, those only who are direct descendants of the prophet, or who have accompanied the Hajj or pilgrimage to Mecca, are permitted to wear a green turban, the other Mahomedans a white one. In the mountains, it is worn indiscriminately by all creeds. In Turkey, those born on Friday are entitled to wear green. This fact surprised an English friend at Constantinople, who seeing so many green turbans, and not being aware of this latter circumstance, observed, that the prophet must have a large family.

During Ibrahim Pasha’s occupation of the country, he did much towards bringing the haughty Mahomedans to a due appreciation of their own nothingness; and the Damascus of to-day is very different to that of some twenty years back. Now Christians, and even Jews, in garbs and costumes, ride to and fro unmolested; and since the departure of the Egyptians, no small share of praise is due to the energy and exertions of Mr. Richard Wood, the present Consul, who is so much respected by the natives, as to be distinguished amongst them by the Turkish title of Bey, and who has successfully persevered in maintaining the privileges afforded to residents and strangers of all creeds, under the iron sway of Ibrahim Pasha.

Whilst at Damascus, we heard the following story, characteristic of the manner in which Ibrahim Pasha sometimes administered retributive justice. A rich Mahomedan, who was an invalid, desired to make the pilgrimage to Mecca; but being prevented by his health, he offered to defray all the expenses of a poor and pious neighbour, provided he would undertake this journey for him. The poor man agreed to do so; and previous to his departure, he deposited his money, and the few valuables of which he was possessed, in a box, which he entrusted to the care of a friend, who was a banker. On his return from Mecca, the box was restored to him, but upon opening it, he discovered that the contents had been taken out. The man immediately went and laid his complaint before the Cadi, who ordered the banker to be brought before him. The accused, placing his hand on the Koran, swore that he had taken neither the money nor the rest of the property from the box; such a solemn declaration was considered unquestionable, and the poor man lost his cause. Being utterly ruined, he wandered about the city in despair; when one day, whilst seated outside the gate of Damascus, he observed Ibrahim Pasha on horseback. He immediately ran to him, and seizing his bridle-rein, stated his case to the Pasha, and fully described his sorrows and the ill-usage which he had received. Ibrahim Pasha listened to his story, and bestowing on him a few piastres, said, “After seven days come to me.” In the meanwhile, inquiries were made regarding the banker, and hearing that he had a son at a certain school, the Pasha went in disguise, accompanied by his secretary, and contrived to win the friendship and confidence of the master. One day, whilst the professor and his scholars were taking their customary siesta, the merchant’s son was carried off, and a young bear deposited in the place which the boy had occupied. When the rest awoke, great was their surprise at seeing such an animal amongst them; but their consternation was even greater, when after the lapse of a short time, the merchant’s son was nowhere to be found. The terror of the professor, and the affliction of the father, may easily be imagined. In his anger, the bereaved parent applied to Ibrahim Pasha, and demanded that the heaviest and most severe penalty should be inflicted on the master for his seeming negligence. “I know where your son is,” said the Pasha, “he is safe, and when you return the money and property which you have taken from the box of your friend, your child shall be restored to you.” The contents of the box were given up, and the banker was beheaded.

The Roman Catholics have made comparatively few converts in Damascus, and the mysterious disappearance, a few years since, of Padre Tomaso and his servant, acts as a check upon the Jesuits, who mostly avoid those places where every security is not afforded, and where great temporal advantages do not accompany the success of their efforts at conversion.

By the last published report of the British and Foreign Bible Society, the heart is cheered with the intelligence, that there are now established at Damascus three American and two Irish Missionaries. May their efforts be crowned with success; for Damascus is said to contain about 140,000 inhabitants, all, more or less, superstitiously ignorant and blind to the blessed light of the gospel!