What 'Isa ibn Hisham Told Us. Muhammad al-MuwaylihiЧитать онлайн книгу.
month’s stay in the very largest mansions, complete with maids, servants, courtiers, and retinue. Your children were attracted to this trend by their crazy desire to copy foreigners exactly and imitate everything they do as precisely as possible. Today fortunate and wealthy children of amirs sell their property and pawn their estates in order to afford a stay in this hostel. Some of them stay at home because they are scared that foreigners will raise cases against them, so they have food brought to their house from the hotel even though they have cooks downstairs and cooking maids upstairs.
PĀSHĀ (to the Groom) I hope you’ll give my friend directions to this hotel so we can go there and meet this fellow. I must meet him.
GROOM God forbid, my dear Amir! How can you talk to me about giving directions? Do you imagine that I’d leave your retinue or desert your company whatever changes may have been brought about by the vicissitudes of time? So come! It’s your prerogative to give instructions.
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ʿĪsā ibn Hishām said:67 The Pāshā asked me to go with him, and we set off with the Groom plodding along behind us. He had a smooth walking stick that he had used so much that it looked quite polished. Eventually we stopped by the lofty structure of one of the best-known hotels. As the Pāshā went in, he was amazed by the beautiful building itself, the lovely furniture, the splendid decorations, and the politeness of the waiters. He imagined we had made a mistake and entered a consular residence from his own era. I gave him details about the hotel and, after leaving the Groom outside, we inquired about his long-lost descendant. One of the waiters gave us the number of the suite. The Pāshā did not bother to ask for permission to enter or even wait for a response. He simply pushed the door open, and we entered. In front of us we discovered a group of amirs’ sons, divided up into different groups. Some were playing dice while others were looking at pictures of racing horses. A group of them were clustered round a middle-aged woman neither old and ugly nor young and beautiful; she made full use of what little beauty she possessed by embellishing herself to the maximum extent possible with all kinds of makeup and finery. Her face was almost aglow with the glint of necklaces and ornaments, while her forehead sparkled with the pearly glimmer of jewels and gems. The middle of the room was occupied by a table with different types of wine in flagons and glasses, along with various expensive vessels. Laid out on top were an inkwell and paper, a pen inlaid with diamonds, and foreign books adorned with gold—all prepared for display, not for learning or culture. Sheets of regulations were scattered all over the floor, and newspapers were strewn about under people’s feet still intact and unread save for the title or racing news. They all had their heads uncovered, and their hands were gloved. They were all jabbering away in foreign languages, making sure not to speak Arabic unless it involved the names of Arab horses, in which case the kāf sound was used instead of qāf and hāʾ instead of ḥāʾ.68
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When they noticed us, they started frowning and scowling and looked put out. A young boy left the woman’s side, hurried over to the door, and addressed us in French:
YOUNG BOY How dare you enter without permission!
ʿĪSĀ IBN HISHĀM We were prompted by a father’s desire to see his offspring.
The youth asked me to explain.
ʿĪSĀ IBN HISHĀM A is enquiring after B.
YOUNG BOY The latter is my name, but who is this other person who is enquiring after me?
I started telling him the entire story and the issues it raised, but he interrupted me with a scoff.
YOUNG BOY Get out of here! I don’t have to listen to such childish lies. I have no father or mother, and no relatives close or otherwise. I am certainly not one of those people who’s going to believe such fairy stories or give credence to made-up tales. I’m someone who’s learned to deny the possibility of resurrection after death, so how am I supposed to believe in it when I’m still alive?
With that he turned and addressed his brothers, interrupting his words with frequent guffaws:
Come on, brothers, just listen to this weird tale! Just take a look at this scruffy bashibozuk beside him.69 (He points at the Pāshā.) He’s claiming to be one of my ancestors and relatives; he’s demanding that I give him part of his bequeathed wealth and payment for his endowment. Have you ever heard anything more peculiar than the events of this morning? Fate isn’t satisfied any more merely to disturb our lives with creditors’ claims. Now it’s started raising the dead from their graves to demand back their wealth, inheritance, and endowments. My friends, isn’t that the best joke of all at the end of this century!
And with that, the entire assembly burst out laughing.
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When the Pāshā kept questioning me about his grandchild, I asked him to wait till the talking stopped. He had no idea of what was being said and could not feel the impact of the sarcastic barbs. Once the laughter came to an end, they yelled to the servant to eject us. At this point the Pāshā’s descendant turned round to discover that one of his closest friends and brothers had slunk off with the girl whom they were treating as though she was their wife. The two of them kept flirting, the brother making advances while she toyed with him. He swooped down on the two of them like a hawk, and a fierce quarrel broke out that turned more and more bitter. Everyone gathered round. I listened as the Pāshā’s descendant scolded the woman while the woman’s friend kept offering excuses. But the woman herself would have none of it:
“How dare you scold anyone like that?” she yelled in rebuke. “Only men who take care of me and respond to my wishes and needs are permitted such rash displays of temper. Only yesterday, I asked you to buy me that necklace that the jewelers received from Paris in the last post. At first you promised to buy it, but then you refused claiming you were hard up. Then today I find out you’ve bought a stallion for a huge sum of money. How can you expect me to keep myself only for you, when other men who are infatuated by me are eager to respond to my demands?”
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I listened now as the Pāshā’s descendant replied, with sweat pouring off his brow and panic cutting short his breaths:
“I swear by God,” he said, “I haven’t bought anything. In fact, I’ve had to sell some things to get enough cash to buy you the necklace. Don’t be deceived by the things they’re saying about how wealthy this vile and treacherous friend is or by rumors about my poverty and my lands being in pawn. You know very well how much money is coming to me from the profits of the court cases I have pending. The lawyer keeps telling you all about it.”
No sooner had his colleague heard him call him by those two epithets than he flew into a terrible rage and gave him a resounding slap. The target of his curses promised in his turn to appoint seconds. Now a further commotion arose at the gaming table between two friends, one of whom had won and the other lost. Elsewhere one of them was asking his brother for a loan, and another who was bankrupt was asking a wealthy man for a loan that he would not be repaying. The quarrel eventually resorted to fisticuffs and yet again ended up with the appointment of witnesses. Still another dispute occurred in the corner of the room where people were looking at pictures of racing horses. One of them kept saying his horse had won and the other man’s came next; his groom was intelligent and was the son of an intelligent father; the other man’s stallion was short whereas his was tall; you have to admit, one of them claimed, that there’s a clear difference in their weights. The quarrels and insults kept getting worse, and the conversation degenerated into a fight. All the while the woman was flitting from one circle to another like a slinky viper. At her whim, the fire of discord was put out, but then she would rekindle it again for her own vicious intentions.
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