“Still more was to follow. An infamous new regulation appeared whereby a man should pay, not upon that which he actually received, but upon that which he had received in the course of three years—a space of time exactly corresponding to my presence in the island and attaching to my vast income of the past. It was clear that I was ruined. I made a brief calculation on the night after the last of these official acts had been published. After taking this survey of my remaining wealth (I had already sold the most part of my movables, and had removed from my great palace to a humble lodging) I discovered that I had left in my hands, all told, less than one thousand dinars.
“I knew not how to look upon the world. My whole being seemed to have departed. I watched the day fading, and with it faded my spirit. I returned to my poor room and, very late, lost, or half-lost, my miseries in an imperfect slumber.”
The old man concluded and bowed his head in a solemn silence. His young nephews appreciating how sacred a thing is death, especially the death of money, glided on tiptoe out of the room and vanished.
VI
Al-Wukalá, or “The Lawyers”
When the nephews next entered their uncle’s presence at the hour of public executions, it was in a subdued manner, as to a funeral, for their thoughts were full of that great loss, the story of which was in progress. They sat upon the floor before him in due order, and Mahmoud began:
“Upon the dawn that followed that hopeless night, my hopes were again raised, only for my further bitterness and disappointment. I had risen before day and gone out of doors. A chance acquaintance ran across me as I paced aimlessly in the narrow streets of the city, watching the shadows shortening under the rising sun, listening to the clear voices of the water-sellers and to the cries of the mariners at their calling.
“This acquaintance was one learned in the law. Not that he was himself a scrivener, or pleader, still less a judge—on the contrary, he was born wealthy, and those so circumstanced are (in Izmat) very much averse to the tedium of a profession. But in youth he had been compelled by his grandfather to read whole libraries of books upon the legal system of his beloved country, and had further been compelled to pay considerable sums to one of the most renowned pleaders of the day in whose office he had passed three miserable years. Seeing he was so educated, and knowing well my misfortunes, he kindly took me by the arm (I could not help suspecting a certain patronage) and said:
“ ‘Alas, my poor Mahmoud! How we do all feel for you! And how we respect the way in which you have borne inevitable misfortune! But though I praise you as much as any other for your conduct and resignation, do you not push it a little too far? We, the free inhabitants of this our beloved Izmat, have a most glorious privilege, which is, that not the king himself (the glory of Allah be upon him) has any privilege as against the humblest of his subjects, when it comes to the issue of law. Our judges, as you know, stand above all mortal frailty and are, as we devoutly and firmly believe, filled with the spirit of God Himself. Though His Majesty and his ministers be your opponents in a case, that case will be decided with serene indifference to the position or wealth or power of the parties. You believe this, do you not?’ he insisted earnestly, for doubts upon so final a doctrine of religion are horrible to the imperial race of Izmat.
“ ‘Yes, I believe it,’ said I with a sigh, though I confess that my short acquaintance with misfortune had shaken me in many points of loyalty to my new country.
“ ‘Why, then,’ said he, ‘do you not come into court with your plaint? Our lawyers have the skill to discover a claim in anything, and you may be sure that all that can be said in your favour would be allowed in the freest manner, and if there is a single loophole, the whole or part of your former fortunes may be restored at whatever cost. For it is a maxim peculiar to our island law that if a case is decided in favour of the plaintiff, then the plaintiff has the decision in his favour.’
“I confess that my acquaintance with the manners and habits of the foreign people among whom I had had the wretched luck to be born had made me think it futile indeed to approach the august judges in a matter where a king was concerned, or to ask relief from state officials for what the state had done to me. He stoutly denied the idea I had that the judges were state officials. Said he: ‘Have you never read the famous oath which every judge makes on taking office? Do you not know how we elect him?’
“ ‘Yes,’ said I, in tones which betrayed no enthusiasm, ‘I know indeed how the judges are appointed and the oath they take. They are appointed—(how often have I not seen the firman signed in council! How often have I not affixed my own poor name to it!)—they are appointed, as the rule goes, “by His Sacred Majesty, that is, by the familiars, the wives, and the secretaries of the richest men, indifferently.” Such are the very words of the statute.’
“ ‘You answer rightly,’ said my friend, with a noble carriage of his head. ‘Surely so impartial a source of office must make you feel secure! On the odious mainland the king appoints his own judges: it is a tyranny to which we in Izmat have long refused to submit. Our monarch is the ruler of free
