Such The
Results Of The Tanzimat, The Silliest Copy Of Europe's
Folly-Bureaucracy And Centralisation-That The Pen Of Empirical
Statecraft Ever Traced.[FN#27] Under A Strong-Handed And Strong-Hearted
Despotism, Like Mohammed Ali's, Al-Hijaz, In One Generation, Might Be
Purged Of Its Pests.
By a proper use of the blood feud; by vigorously
supporting the weaker against the stronger classes; by regularly
Defeating every Badawi who earns a name for himself; and, above all, by
the exercise of unsparing, unflinching justice,[FN#28] the few
thousands of half-naked bandits, who now make the land a fighting
field, would soon sink into utter insignificance.
[p.259] But to effect such end, the Turks require the old stratocracy,
which, bloody as it was, worked with far less misery than the charter
and the new code. What Milton calls
"The solid rule of civil government"
has done wonders for the race that nurtured and brought to perfection
an idea spontaneous to their organisation. The world has yet to learn
that the admirable exotic will thrive amongst the country gentlemen of
Monomotapa or the ragged nobility of Al-Hijaz.[FN#29] And it requires
no prophetic eye to foresee the day when the Wahhabis or the Badawin,
rising en masse, will rid the land of its feeble conquerors.[FN#30]
Sa'ad, the Old Man of the Mountains, was described to me as a little
brown Badawi; contemptible in appearance, but remarkable for courage
and ready wit. He has for treachery a keen scent, which he requires to
keep in exercise. A blood feud with Abd al-Muttalib, the present Sharif
of Meccah, who slew his nephew, and the hostility of several Sultans,
has rendered his life eventful. He lost all his teeth by poison, which
would have killed him, had he not, after swallowing the potion,
corrected it by drinking off a large potfull of clarified butter. Since
that time he has lived entirely upon fruits, which he gathers for
himself, and
[p.260] coffee which he prepares with his own hands. In Sultan Mahmud's
time he received from Constantinople a gorgeous purse, which he was
told to open, as it contained something for his private inspection.
Suspecting treachery, he gave it for this purpose to a slave, bidding
him carry it to some distance; the bearer was shot by a pistol
cunningly fixed, like Rob Roy's, in the folds of the bag. Whether this
far-known story be "true or only well found," it is certain that Shaykh
Sa'ad now fears the Turks, even "when they bring gifts." The Sultan
sends, or is supposed to send him, presents of fine horses, robes of
honour, and a large quantity of grain. But the Shaykh, trusting to his
hills rather than to steeds, sells them; he gives away the dresses to
his slaves, and he distributes the grain amongst his clansmen. Of his
character, men, as usual, tell two tales: some praise his charity, and
call him the friend of the poor, as certainly as he is a foe to the
rich. Others, on the contrary, describe him as cruel, cold-blooded, and
notably, even among Arabs, revengeful and avaricious. The truth
probably lies between these two extremes, but I observed that those of
my companions who spoke most highly of the robber chief when at a
distance seemed to be in the sudori freddi whilst under the shadow of
his hills.
Al-Hamra is the third station from Al-Madinah in the Darb Sultani, the
"Sultan's" or "High Road," the Westerly line leading to Meccah along
the sea-coast. When the robbers permit, the pilgrims prefer this route
on account of its superior climate, the facility of procuring water and
supplies, the vicinity of the sea, and the circumstance of its passing
through "Badr," the scene of the Prophet's principal military exploits
(A.H. 2). After mid-day, on the 21st July, when we had made up our
minds that Fate had determined we should halt at Al-Hamra, a caravan
arrived from Meccah; and the new travellers had interest to procure an
escort, and permission
[p.261] to proceed without delay towards Al-Madinah. The good news
filled us with joy. A little after four P.M. we urged our panting
camels over the fiery sands to join the Meccans, who were standing
ready for the march, on the other side of the torrent bed. An hour
afterwards we started in an Easterly direction.
My companions having found friends and relations in the Meccan
caravan,-the boy Mohammed's elder brother, about whom more anon, was of
the number,-were full of news and excitement. At sunset they prayed
with unction: even Sa'ad and Hamid had not the face to sit their camels
during the halt, when all around were washing, sanding
themselves,[FN#31] and busy with their devotions. We then ate our
suppers, remounted, and started once more. Shortly after night set in,
we came to a sudden halt. A dozen different reports rose to account for
this circumstance, which was occasioned by a band of Badawin, who had
manned a gorge, and sent forward a "parliamentary," ordering us
forthwith to stop. They at first demanded money to let us pass; but at
last, hearing that we were Sons of the Holy Cities, they granted us
transit on the sole condition that the military,-whom they, like Irish
peasants, hate and fear,-should return to whence they came. Upon this,
our escort, 200 men, wheeled their horses round and galloped back to
their barracks. We moved onwards, without, however, seeing any robbers;
my camel-man pointed out their haunts, and showed me a small bird
hovering over a place where he supposed water trickled from the rock.
The fellow had attempted a sneer at my expense when the fray was
impending. "Why don't you load your pistols, Effendi,"
[p.262] he cried, "and get out of your litter, and show fight?"
"Because," I replied as loudly, "in my country, when dogs run at us, we
thrash them with sticks." This stopped Mansur's mouth for a time, but
he and I were never friends.
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