“At this phrase the exultation of the lord chief treasurer knew no bounds, and he led the stream of cheering which it so richly deserved. ‘How long are we to wait for that reform which our fathers—especially among the gentry—demanded and so nearly obtained?’ He looked round upon them for a moment in a dramatic pause, and then said in solemn tones, ‘A tax upon the worthless rich, and more especially’ (yet louder) ‘upon the alien rich and more especially still’ (his voice now booming like a hammering of drums) ‘upon the alien rich who stand idle fattening upon the revenues of the state, this I say. …’ But the delirium of acquiescence aroused by this noble sentiment cut off the rest of his phrase and drowned his voice for the space in which a man might recite the prayer for the caliph.
“Used as I was to this style of public eloquence and the expression of opinions universal to this happy people (bound up, as I thought, with the very atmosphere of their race) I naturally expected that when the dying down of the applause should have allowed him to be heard we should have that second part of which his speeches had always consisted—an appeal to the conservative instincts of our race, to their noble patience and to their dogged tenacity in doing nothing which had made them the envy of their less-gifted neighbours.
“Bitterly was I undeceived!
“For what were his very next words? I could hardly believe my ears as those words fell upon me. ‘Why,’ said he in grave and tragic tones, slowly separating them syllable by syllable, ‘why do you thus remain ground down by such an iniquity as the tax upon Salt?’
“My heart stood still. I ventured discreetly to touch his foot with that one of my own which was nearest. He replied by treading heavily upon my toe, which I interpreted as a signal of secret friendship. But I was terribly concerned to note that the native lords around, squatted upon the same platform as myself, wagged their heads in unison when this monstrous suggestion was made, and by their murmurs of agreement interrupted the awful silence which followed.
“That silence did not last for long. Once more, but with stronger decision, with larger hope, there arose from the vast assembly the same tumult of applause. Every man rose to his feet. Someone began to sing, then all sang in unison their famous hymn, which asks in stirring words and air whether one Hussein shall die and asserts with the utmost vehemence that if this most unfortunate event should come to pass no less than twenty thousand inhabitants of the peninsula province of Bar-el-sul would demand a full explanation of the occurrence. The words might not seem apposite to a stranger, but in the dignified and strongly national atmosphere of Izmat their purport is well understood. They can be suited to almost any occasion of popular passion, and at this moment most undoubtedly might be interpreted to mean ‘To Eblis with the Salt Tax.’
“I was by this time frozen to my marrow. I was bewildered. I could hardly doubt the friendship between Tarib and myself. I had shown him so many favours. Even now, as I looked at him, I found him very sympathetic—and so familiar! I could not doubt the force of familiar converse, I could not doubt my hosts and colleagues, the councillors, who had for now three years sat with me round His Majesty in Divan and worked with me as one of the chief ministers there.
“The next words slightly, but only slightly, reassured me. They were more after the style I knew so well, when, in the past, the national glory in doing nothing had been expressed with peculiar skill. The lord doubler assumed a piteous expression and his mouth, the shape of which might now be compared to that of a horseshoe, opened. ‘Let me not stir you up, my friends,’ said he, ‘to a violent anger. We can leave froth and vindictive folly to the pitiful peoples of the mainland. We in Izmat, thanks be to Allah, will never lose our dignity in mere brawling. Let us confine ourselves to constitutional means, the only ones whereby anything practical can be accomplished.’ Applause also met these sentiments, more subdued, indeed, than that which we had first heard, but sincere. ‘My friends around me,’ and he smiled on all the councillors, including myself, ‘will deliberate, as we always do, for the public good, and you will find that our recommendations thus laid before His Majesty, with the ensuing proclamation, will be the beginning of better things. We cannot say that all this evil shall be redressed at once. We are a practical people, as I think I have remarked before. You have indeed cried to me for redress; but we are, I say it again, a practical people. We do not attempt the impossible or tear up the ancient framework of our state. Step by step is our motto. One thing at a time. The advance of His
