There is a fell disease of this century called 'snobbery of the soul.'
Its germ has been virulently developed in modern cultures from the
uncomplex bacillus isolated sixty years ago by the late William
Makepeace Thackeray. Precisely as Major Ponto, with his plated dishes
and stable-boy masquerading as footman, lied to himself and his guests
so - but the Book of Snobs can only be brought up to date by him who
wrote it.
Then, a man struck in from the Sudan - far and far to the south - with a
story of a discomposed judge and a much too collected prisoner.
To the great bazaars of Omdurman, where all things are sold, came a
young man from the uttermost deserts of somewhere or other and heard a
gramophone. Life was of no value to him till he had bought the creature.
He took it back to his village, and at twilight set it going among his
ravished friends. His father, sheik of the village, came also, listened
to the loud shoutings without breath, the strong music lacking
musicians, and said, justly enough: 'This thing is a devil. You must not
bring devils into my village. Lock it up.'
They waited until he had gone away and then began another tune. A second
time the sheik came, repeated the command, and added that if the singing
box was heard again, he would slay the buyer. But their curiosity and
joy defied even this, and for the third time (late at night) they
slipped in pin and record and let the djinn rave. So the sheik, with his
rifle, shot his son as he had promised, and the English judge before
whom he eventually came had all the trouble in the world to save that
earnest gray head from the gallows. Thus:
'Now, old man, you must say guilty or not guilty.'
'But I shot him. That is why I am here. I - - '
'Hush! It is a form of words which the law asks. (Sotte voce. Write
down that the old idiot doesn't understand.) Be still now.'
'But I shot him. What else could I have done? He bought a devil in a
box, and - - '
'Quiet! That comes later. Leave talking.'
'But I am sheik of the village. One must not bring devils into a
village. I said I would shoot him.'
'This matter is in the hands of the law. I judge.'
'What need? I shot him. Suppose that your son had brought a devil in a
box to your village - - '
They explained to him, at last, that under British rule fathers must
hand over devil-dealing children to be shot by the white men (the first
step, you see, on the downward path of State aid), and that he must go
to prison for several months for interfering with a government shoot.
We are a great race. There was a pious young judge in Nigeria once,
who kept a condemned prisoner waiting very many minutes while he
hunted through the Hausa dictionary, word by word, for,
'May - God - have - mercy - on - your - soul.'
And I heard another tale - about the Suez Canal this time - a hint of what
may happen some day at Panama. There was a tramp steamer, loaded with
high explosives, on her way to the East, and at the far end of the Canal
one of the sailors very naturally upset a lamp in the fo'c'sle. After a
heated interval the crew took to the desert alongside, while the captain
and the mate opened all cocks and sank her, not in the fairway but up
against a bank, just leaving room for a steamer to squeeze past. Then
the Canal authorities wired to her charterers to know exactly what there
might be in her; and it is said that the reply kept them awake of
nights, for it was their business to blow her up.
Meantime, traffic had to go through, and a P. & O. steamer came along.
There was the Canal; there was the sunken wreck, marked by one elderly
Arab in a little boat with a red flag, and there was about five foot
clearance on each side for the P. & O. She went through a-tiptoe,
because even fifty tons of dynamite will jar a boat, perceptibly, and
the tramp held more - very much more, not to mention detonators. By some
absurd chance, almost the only passenger who knew about the thing at the
time was an old lady rather proud of the secret.
'Ah,' she said, in the middle of that agonised glide, 'you may depend
upon it that if everybody knew what, I know, they'd all be on the other
side of the ship.'
Later on, the authorities blew up the tramp with infinite precautions
from some two miles off, for which reason she neither destroyed the Suez
Canal nor dislocated the Sweet Water Canal alongside, but merely dug out
a hole a hundred feet or a hundred yards deep, and so vanished from
Lloyd's register.
But no stories could divert one long from the peculiarities of that
amazing line which exists strictly for itself. There was a bathroom
(occupied) at the windy end of an open alleyway. In due time the bather
came out.
Said the steward, as he swabbed out the tub for his successor: 'That was
the Chief Engineer. 'E's been some time. Must 'ave 'ad a mucky job
below, this mornin'.'
I have a great admiration for Chief Engineers. They are men in
authority, needing all the comforts and aids that can possibly be given
them - such as bathrooms of their own close to their own cabins, where
they can clean off at leisure.
