Mohammed Ali and His House

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Author: Luise Mühlbach

Chapter I the Flower of Praousta.

The tschorbadji was in great uneasiness since Mohammed had gone on his expedition to the rebellious village, and his son was profoundly troubled and apprehensive. He could not endure to remain in the broad hall which led to the garden, but followed his father to the great saloon which commanded a view of the court-yard through which Mohammed must come. He laid himself upon the divan, while his father walked up and down with heavy steps, pausing occasionally at the window looking into the court-yard, and then rapidly continuing his walk. Suddenly the door opened, and two slaves appeared in magnificent Grecian costume, richly embroidered, and placed themselves at the open door. Then a third stepped forth, and announced in a loud voice, "His excellency Cousrouf Pacha!" His excellency entered, splendidly dressed, in a long velvet mantle, trimmed with rare fur, in his turban a star of the most brilliant diamonds flashed, and in the Persian shawl folded around his waist glittered a dagger, studded with costly gems.

It was a splendid sight—the tall, proud man as he stood in the widely-opened door; the richly-dressed slaves at his side, and behind him his secretary, in white, gold-embroidered robe, holding the staff aloft.

The tschorbadji stepped toward him with a respectful air and a forced smile. Osman arose slowly from the divan, and bowed profoundly before his excellency.

The sharp glance of the pacha read at once, in the face of father and son, that he was unwelcome, and told them so in a soft, friendly voice. The tschorbadji protested, in flowery words and flattering terms, which he knew would please Cousrouf Pacha, that he was unutterably happy, inexpressibly flattered and delighted, at the presence of his excellency.

Cousrouf Pacha replied with a gracious inclination of his stately head, and appeared to find it perfectly natural that every one should feel delighted when his excellency approached.

"Tell me, tschorbadji," he said, taking the place of honor on the divan, and motioning the slave to bring him his gold-and-diamondstudded chibouque—" tell me, tsohorbadji, is it true that the village of Praousta is in revolt?"

"Unfortunately, your excellency, it is true," sighed the tschorbadji; "the men have revolted, they will not pay the double tax."

"Dogs! dogs! that are barking a little," said Cousrouf, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. "I think, tschorbadji, you would do well to quiet them quickly."

"I hope my messenger will succeed in repressing the revolt, in quieting the men, and in inducing them to do their duty."

"What!" exclaimed Cousrouf, with a contemptuous curl of his lip, "you intend to make terms with the rebels?"

"I shall try to induce the men to do their duty."

"You surely do not consider that rebels are criminals most deserving of death," said Cousrouf, with flashing eyes. "Dogs are shot when they are mad, and rebels are but mad dogs."

"I beg your pardon, excellency," said the tschorbadji, his gentle face assuming a severer expression than it had yet worn before his excellency—" I beg your pardon, but this small island is not so rich in men that we can afford to shoot them like dogs, and, moreover, excepting this, the people are good, industrious, and willing to provide for their families. This year they have had a bad harvest, and but little profit, and were incensed at having to pay double taxes."

"And why double taxes?" asked Cousrouf Pacba, with a contemptuous smile.

"Do not ask me, excellency," replied the tschorbadji, with a bow; "one portion of the taxes goes as usual to Stamboul, into the coffers of his highness; the other portion—"

"Ah, I understand," said Cousrouf, with a proud smile; "the other portion is, through an order from Stamboul, destined for me. That is so, is it not, tschorbadji?"

"Yes, excellency, if you wish to know the truth, it is."

"And these dogs refuse to pay for the benefit of Cousrouf Pacha, the grand-vizier of his highness, the friend and comrade of the Admiral Hussein, and you will not shoot them down like mad dogs, tachorbadji; you wish to negotiate with these audacious men, who mock at my greatness in refusing me the tribute! These slaves believe that, because Cousrouf Pacha condescends to live in this desolate place—this miserable nest they can mock and deny me their respect with impunity. But I tell you, tschorbadji, I tell you, and all the men of Praousta and Cavalla, you shall remember this day! If these men do not submit, if they do not pay what they ought to pay, then you may all beware, for a day will come, and, by Allah, it is not far off, when Cousrouf Pacha will leave his exile with new honors! Remember this, tschorbadji, and act accordingly."

"I shall remember it, excellency," said the tschorbadji, respectfully; "I have never failed in reverence and respect to the noble guest whom his highness graciously sent here; I accepted it as a favor, and during my entire life I shall remember the days that it pleased Cousrouf Pacha to become a guest in my house."

The words of the tschorbadji, humbly and respectfully as they were spoken, rankled in the sensitive soul of the proud pacha. He started, and his brow darkened. He had partaken of the tschorbadji’s hospitality, and had never thanked him for it, and never returned it. The tax that the men of Praousta were commanded to pay, was by an order from Stamboul, destined for Cousrouf Pacha, and this was a sign to the proud man that his sun was in the ascendant, that he would soon be released from his exile, and therefore he was defiant and haughty toward the tschorbadji.

At the angry words of the pacha, Osman, the usually mild and gentle youth, arose from the divan, and placed himself at his father’s side, as if he wished to defend the tschorbadji from the proud and mocking words of the stranger.

The father felt and understood what was passing in the youth’s soul; he laid his hand softly upon his shoulder. "Calm yourself, my son; may the rights of a guest be as sacred to you as to me—his excellency has been our esteemed guest for three years, remember this, and forget that he was a little hard just now. Allah be with him! Allah make all our hearts tender and gentle!"

"You must remember, pacha, that here, in our small portion of the great world, we cannot make so great and magnificent a display as you can make in your brilliant career in the great city of Stamboul. We have no soldiers here except my small body-guard of eight men; the rest of our small military force is now stationed elsewhere. It would be very unfortunate if I should incite to violence the men who, even if armed with knives only, would still be able to overpower us all. It will therefore be better to negotiate with them than to proceed to extreme measures."

"Well, what course have you decided upon?" asked Cousrouf, in a milder tone.

"Mohammed Ali, the friend of my son, Osman, has pledged himself to bring the rebels to reason; I have given him my body-guard of eight men, and he has gone down to Praousta."

"Gone to this seditious village, where more than fifty strong men are in revolt!" exclaimed Cousrouf. "Truly such daring reflects honor upon the young lad."

"Upon what young lad?" asked Osman, in seeming surprise; "of whom does your excellency speak?"

"Of the young lad your father spoke of; he who volunteered to settle this difficulty. Is he your slave, or your freedman, of whom you make a companion because unfortunately you can find here no better social intercourse?"

"He is my friend," said Osman, in a calm, firm voice, "my best friend, and I trust that all who honor my father’s house with their visits will observe a proper respect to the friend of his son. I expect this, and, if need be, will require it, for—"

"Here comes Mohammed!" cried the governor, rejoicing at any occurrence which interrupted his son’s speech. "Here comes Mohammed, and with him four prisoners. By Allah! it is the sheik and the three ulemas of Praousta! The soldiers are conducting them; their hands are bound behind their backs. Mohammed is a bold fellow; he has made prisoners of four of the richest and most influential men of the village, and is bringing them here. I must speak with him." The governor arose hastily, but Cousrouf Pacha seized his arm and held him back forcibly. "Tschorbadji, it becomes your ambassador to seek you and give an account of his mission. I myself will hear him." Still holding the tschorbadji’s arm, he stepped to the divan, seated himself, and drew the governor down beside him. And now the door was opened, and Mohammed, with glowing cheeks and ardent eyes, holding his sword aloft, entered the room. He advanced rapidly across the spacious saloon to the tschorbadji, lowered his sword before him, and bestowed a kindly glance on his friend Osman, who came forward to greet him. With a few hasty words he explained to the tschorbadji the events which had taken place; only when he spoke of the young girl did his voice falter, but he made slight mention of her, and passed on to narrate the conclusion of his bold adventure.

"So you have really made prisoners of four of the first men of Praousta and brought them here!" said the tschorbadji, completely taken by surprise. "Tell me what shall be done with them? It surely cannot be your intention to put these men to death if the tax is not paid?"

"Most certainly, sir, that is my intention," said Mohammed, throwing back his head proudly. "They are all rebels, and the ulemas and the sheik were their leaders—these, sir, were the men who counselled the people not to pay the taxes. It is according to law that the heads of the leaders of a rebellion should fall, and fall their heads shall, for I have sworn it; if three men are not sent tomorrow morning from Praousta, at the hour of prayer, with the double tax, the heads of the prisoners shall answer for its payment!"

"But this is impossible," said the tschorbadji, whose tender heart was moved by Mohammed’s threatening words. "This is impossible; I cannot allow these men to be executed."

"I have sworn it shall be done, and it must be done, unless you wish to see your authority overthrown."

"But how can it be done?" exclaimed the tschorbadji, pale with anxiety and horror. "Who will put these men to death? I have no executioner."

"If necessary," said Mohammed, his eyes flashing with resolve—"If necessary, I will behead them myself."

"Bravely said!" cried Cousrouf Pacha, rising from his seat. "Truly, Mohammed Ali, I begin to be pleased with you."

"That, sir, is more than I desire," said Mohammed, calmly; he gave one threatening glance at the proud pacha, and then turned quickly to the tschorbadji.

"Remember, sir, that you gave me absolute authority to act as I thought best. I gave you my word of honor to bring back these rebels to reason and obedience. In return, you promised that I alone should decide the matter. It must therefore be so. I have sworn to the men of Praousta that, unless they submit, the heads of the sheik and the three ulemas shall fall; and I repeat, so must it be, even if they fall by my hand, if to-morrow, at the hour of prayer, the gold is not produced."

"Then may Allah mercifully bring the rebels to repentance!" sighed the tschorbadji. "May they submit to your decision, and bring the gold at the appointed time. Until then we must put the prisoners in some place of safety. Give orders, Mohammed, that they be taken to the prison, and carefully guarded."

"And why to the prison, sir?" asked Mohammed, quietly. "Here in the middle of the court-yard is a space encircled with an iron railing."

"So there is," replied the tschorbadji, "it was prepared as a cage for my beautiful lion, and he had lived within that railing for four years, when some miserable wretch, who knew I loved the noble animal, poisoned it."

"Well, I think the cage your lion occupied is large enough to afford lodging for one night to the sheik and the ulemas."

"What! confine them here in the open air?"

"Yes, sir, that is what I suggest. "Cannot the iron door be locked?"

"Yes, it can be locked; the key is in the palace."

"In this way we can spare your body-guard a weary watch," said Mohammed. "I will conduct them to their prison. It seems to me best that the prisoners be placed where all the world can see them; all the passers-by can here look upon these men and take warning how the tschorbadji punishes rebels and rebellions. I alone will keep watch over these prisoners, and explain to all who pass why they are here; they will then go down to Praousta, and announce that the block is prepared upon which the heads of these men will fall early on the morrow, unless the taxes are paid."

"Mohammed, you are terrible!" murmured Osman, as he gazed with amazement and anxiety into the eyes of his friend.

"You are right," whispered Cousrouf Pacha, aside; "this is a bold, brave youth, and something can be made of him. He is ambitious and daring. The time may come when he would be of use; I will try to win him over to my interests."

Mohammed heard nothing more; he had already gone to the court-yard and opened the door of the cage. He now ordered the soldiers to conduct the prisoners inside the enclosure.

Calmly and silently they entered. Not one word had been uttered by them since they left Praousta; with heads erect, and with proud bearing, they entered their prison.

"Force conquers even the philosopher. He who feels himself in the right is silent, and utters no complaint," so exclaimed the sheik in a loud voice, as he was thrust inside the enclosure by the soldiers. The ulemas bowed their heads and followed him. "Allah be praised, and may the prophet look down in mercy upon the most insignificant of his creatures!"

The door of their prison closed behind them; Mohammed took the key and concealed it about his person. "Now," said he, "pray and meditate upon your crimes and their punishment. I will myself make known to the men of Praousta that they may find you here, and all who wish can come to see you. It rests with you to tell the people that they must submit to the law, or else bring your heads to the block. Think well of this, and rest assured the tschorbadji will confirm what he has declared through me. To-morrow, at the hour of prayer, must the double tax be paid by the men of Praousta, or your heads shall be placed on the cliffs where everybody can see them, and your bodies thrown upon the rock Bucephalus, that the vultures and ravens may feed upon them."

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Chicago: Luise Mühlbach, "Chapter I the Flower of Praousta.," Mohammed Ali and His House, ed. CM01B10.Txt - 149 Kb, CM01B10.Zip - 56 Kb and trans. Coleman, Chapman, Mrs., 1813-1891 in Mohammed Ali and His House (New York: The Modern Library Publishers, 1918), Original Sources, accessed April 19, 2024, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=BZTJ7GVTLNGZRTD.

MLA: Mühlbach, Luise. "Chapter I the Flower of Praousta." Mohammed Ali and His House, edited by CM01B10.Txt - 149 Kb, CM01B10.Zip - 56 Kb, and translated by Coleman, Chapman, Mrs., 1813-1891, in Mohammed Ali and His House, New York, The Modern Library Publishers, 1918, Original Sources. 19 Apr. 2024. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=BZTJ7GVTLNGZRTD.

Harvard: Mühlbach, L, 'Chapter I the Flower of Praousta.' in Mohammed Ali and His House, ed. and trans. . cited in 1918, Mohammed Ali and His House, The Modern Library Publishers, New York. Original Sources, retrieved 19 April 2024, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=BZTJ7GVTLNGZRTD.