Life's Handicap: Being Stories of Mine Own People

  THE AMIR'S HOMILY

  [Footnote: Copyright, 1891, by MacMillan & Co.]

  His Royal Highness Abdur Rahman, Amir of Afghanistan, G.C.S.I., andtrusted ally of Her Imperial Majesty the Queen of England and Empress ofIndia, is a gentleman for whom all right-thinking people should have aprofound regard. Like most other rulers, he governs not as he would butas he can, and the mantle of his authority covers the most turbulentrace under the stars. To the Afghan neither life, property, law, norkingship are sacred when his own lusts prompt him to rebel. He is athief by instinct, a murderer by heredity and training, and frankly andbestially immoral by all three. None the less he has his own crookednotions of honour, and his character is fascinating to study. Onoccasion he will fight without reason given till he is hacked in pieces;on other occasions he will refuse to show fight till he is driven intoa corner. Herein he is as unaccountable as the gray wolf, who is hisblood-brother.

  And these men His Highness rules by the only weapon that theyunderstand--the fear of death, which among some Orientals is thebeginning of wisdom. Some say that the Amir's authority reaches nofarther than a rifle bullet can range; but as none are quite certainwhen their king may be in their midst, and as he alone holds every oneof the threads of Government, his respect is increased among men. GholamHyder, the Commander-in-chief of the Afghan army, is feared reasonably,for he can impale; all Kabul city fears the Governor of Kabul, whohas power of life and death through all the wards; but the Amir ofAfghanistan, though outlying tribes pretend otherwise when his back isturned, is dreaded beyond chief and governor together. His word is redlaw; by the gust of his passion falls the leaf of man's life, and hisfavour is terrible. He has suffered many things, and been a huntedfugitive before he came to the throne, and he understands all theclasses of his people. By the custom of the East any man or woman havinga complaint to make, or an enemy against whom to be avenged, hasthe right of speaking face to face with the king at the daily publicaudience. This is personal government, as it was in the days of Harun alRaschid of blessed memory, whose times exist still and will exist longafter the English have passed away.

  The privilege of open speech is of course exercised at certain personalrisk. The king may be pleased, and raise the speaker to honour forthat very bluntness of speech which three minutes later brings a tooimitative petitioner to the edge of the ever ready blade. And the peoplelove to have it so, for it is their right.

  It happened upon a day in Kabul that the Amir chose to do his day's workin the Baber Gardens, which lie a short distance from the city of Kabul.A light table stood before him, and round the table in the open air weregrouped generals and finance ministers according to their degree. TheCourt and the long tail of feudal chiefs--men of blood, fed and cowedby blood--stood in an irregular semicircle round the table, and the windfrom the Kabul orchards blew among them. All day long sweating couriersdashed in with letters from the outlying districts with rumours ofrebellion, intrigue, famine, failure of payments, or announcements oftreasure on the road; and all day long the Amir would read the dockets,and pass such of these as were less private to the officials whomthey directly concerned, or call up a waiting chief for a word ofexplanation. It is well to speak clearly to the ruler of Afghanistan.Then the grim head, under the black astrachan cap with the diamond starin front, would nod gravely, and that chief would return to his fellows.Once that afternoon a woman clamoured for divorce against her husband,who was bald, and the Amir, hearing both sides of the case, bade herpour curds over the bare scalp, and lick them off, that the hair mightgrown again, and she be contented. Here the Court laughed, and the womanwithdrew, cursing her king under her breath.

  But when twilight was falling, and the order of the Court was a littlerelaxed, there came before the king, in custody, a trembling haggardwretch, sore with much buffeting, but of stout enough build, who hadstolen three rupees--of such small matters does His Highness takecognisance.

  'Why did you steal?' said he; and when the king asks questions they dothemselves service who answer directly.

  'I was poor, and no one gave. Hungry, and there was no food.'

  'Why did you not work?'

  'I could find no work, Protector of the Poor, and I was starving.'

  'You lie. You stole for drink, for lust, for idleness, for anything buthunger, since any man who will may find work and daily bread.'

  The prisoner dropped his eyes. He had attended the Court before, and heknew the ring of the death-tone.

  'Any man may get work. Who knows this so well as I do? for I too havebeen hungered--not like you, bastard scum, but as any honest man may be,by the turn of Fate and the will of God.'

  Growing warm, the Amir turned to his nobles all arow and thrust the hiltof his sabre aside with his elbow.

  'You have heard this Son of Lies? Hear me tell a true tale. I also wasonce starved, and tightened my belt on the sharp belly-pinch. Nor wasI alone, for with me was another, who did not fail me in my evil days,when I was hunted, before ever I came to this throne. And wandering likea houseless dog by Kandahar, my money melted, melted, melted till--' Heflung out a bare palm before the audience. 'And day upon day, faint andsick, I went back to that one who waited, and God knows how we lived,till on a day I took our best lihaf--silk it was, fine work of Iran,such as no needle now works, warm, and a coverlet for two, and all thatwe had. I brought it to a money-lender in a bylane, and I asked forthree rupees upon it. He said to me, who am now the King, "You are athief. This is worth three hundred." "I am no thief," I answered, "but aprince of good blood, and I am hungry."--"Prince of wandering beggars,"said that money-lender, "I have no money with me, but go to my housewith my clerk and he will give you two rupees eight annas, for that isall I will lend." So I went with the clerk to the house, and we talkedon the way, and he gave me the money. We lived on it till it was spent,and we fared hard. And then that clerk said, being a young man of a goodheart, "Surely the money-lender will lend yet more on that lihaf," andhe offered me two rupees. These I refused, saying, "Nay; but get mesome work." And he got me work, and I, even I, Abdur Rahman, Amirof Afghanistan, wrought day by day as a coolie, bearing burdens, andlabouring of my hands, receiving four annas wage a day for my sweat andbackache. But he, this bastard son of naught, must steal! For a yearand four months I worked, and none dare say that I lie, for I have awitness, even that clerk who is now my friend.'

  Then there rose in his place among the Sirdars and the nobles one cladin silk, who folded his hands and said, 'This is the truth of God, forI, who, by the favour of God and the Amir, am such as you know, was onceclerk to that money-lender.'

  There was a pause, and the Amir cried hoarsely to the prisoner, throwingscorn upon him, till he ended with the dread 'Dar arid,' which clinchesjustice.

  So they led the thief away, and the whole of him was seen no moretogether; and the Court rustled out of its silence, whispering, 'BeforeGod and the Prophet, but this is a man!'