Authors: Evelyn Waugh
‘Oh, Mr
Seal, you’ll get into trouble one day with the things you say.’
The
Emperor rose ‘to greet him with the utmost cordiality. ‘Come in, come in. I’m
very glad you’ve come. I’m in some perplexity about Nacktkultur. Here have I
spent four weeks trying to enforce the edict prescribing trousers for the official
classes, and now I read that it is more modern not to wear any at all.’
‘Seth,
what’s the Imperial Bank of Azania?’
The
Emperor looked embarrassed.
‘I
thought you might ask … Well, actually it is not quite a bank at all. It is a
little thing I did myself. I will show you.’
He led
Basil to a high cupboard which occupied half the wall on one side of the
library, and opening it showed him a dozen or so shelves stacked with what
might have been packets of writing paper.
‘What
is that?’
‘Just
under three million pounds,’ said the Emperor proudly. ‘A little surprise. I
had them done in Europe.’
‘But
you can’t possibly do this.’
‘Oh,
yes, I assure you. It was easy. All these on this shelf are for a thousand
pounds each, and now that the plates have been made, it is quite inexpensive to
print as many more as we require. You see there were a great many things which
needed doing and I had not a great many rupees. Don’t look angry, Seal. Look,
I’ll give you some.’ He pressed a bundle of flyers into Basil’s hand. ‘And take
some for Mr Youkoumian, too. Pretty fine picture of me, eh? I wondered about
the hat. You will see that in the fifty-pound notes I wear a crown.’
For
some minutes Basil attempted to remonstrate; then quite suddenly he abandoned
the argument.
‘I knew
you would understand, ‘ said the Emperor. ‘It is so simple. As soon as these
are used up we will send for some more. And tomorrow you will explain to me
about Nacktkultur, eh?’
Basil
returned to his office very tired.
‘There’s
only one thing to hope for now. That’s a fire in the Palace to get rid of the
whole lot.’
‘We
must change these quick,’ said Mr Youkoumian. ‘I know a damn fool Chinaman
might do it. Anyway, the Ministry of Fine Arts can take one at par for the
historical section.’
It was
on that afternoon that Basil at last lost his confidence in the permanence of
the One Year Plan.
Chapter Six
FROM
DAME MILDRED PORCH TO HER HUSBAND
S.S. Le Président Carnot
Matodi
March 8th
My Dear Stanley,
I am writing this before disembarking. It will be posted at
Marseilles and should reach you as nearly as I can calculate on 17th of the
month. As I wrote to you from Durban, Sarah and I decided to break our return
journey in Azania. The English boat did not stop here. So we had to change at
Aden into this outward-bound French ship. Very dirty and
unseamanlike.
I have heard very disagreeable accounts of the
hunting here. Apparently the natives dig deep pits into which the poor animals
fall; they are often left in these traps for several days without food or water
(imagine what that means in the heat of the jungle) and are then mercilessly
butchered in cold blood. Of course the poor ignorant people know no better. But
the young Emperor is by all accounts a comparatively enlightened and
well-educated person and I am sure he will do all he can to introduce more
humane methods if it is really necessary to kill these fine beasts at all
—
as I very much doubt. I expect to resume our journey in about a fortnight. I
enclose cheque for another month’s household expenses. The coal bill seemed
surprisingly heavy in your last accounts. I hope that you are not letting the
servants become extravagant in my absence. There is no need for the dining-room
fire to be lit before luncheon at this time of year.
Yours affec.
Mildred
March 8th
Disembarked
Matodi
12.46.
Quaint and smelly. Condition of
mules and dogs
appalling,
also children. In spite of radio message
British consul was not there to meet us. Quite civil native led us to his
office. Tip five annas. Seemed satisfied. Consul not English at all. Some sort
of Greek. Very unhelpful (probably drinks). Unable or unwilling to say when
train starts for Debra Dowa, whether possible engage sleeper. Wired Legation. Went
to Amurath Hotel. Positive pot-house. Men sitting about drinking all over
terrace. Complained. Large bedroom overlooking harbour apparently clean. Sarah
one of her headaches. Complained of her room over street. Told her very decent
little room.
March 9th
No
news of train. Sarah disagreeable about her room. Saw Roman Missionary. Unhelpful.
Typical dago attitude towards animals. Later saw American Baptists.
Middle-class and unhelpful because unable talk native languages. No answer
Legation. Wired again.
March 10th
No
news train. Wired Legation again. Unhelpful answer. Fed doggies in
market-place. Children tried to take food from doggies. Greedy little wretches.
Sarah still headache.
March 11th
Hotel
manager suddenly announced train due to leave at noon. Apparently has been here
all the time. Sarah very slow packing. Outrageous bill. Road to station blocked
brown motor lorry. Natives living in it. Also two goats. Seemed well but cannot
be healthy for them so near natives. Had to walk last quarter-mile. Afraid
would miss train. Arrived with five minutes to spare. Got tickets, no sleepers.
Just in time. V. hot and exhausted. Train did not start until three o’clock.
Arrived dinnertime Lumo station where apparently we have to spend night. Shower
bath and changed underclothes. Bed
v. doubtful.
Luckily
remembered Keatings Durban. Interesting French hotel manager about local
conditions. Apparently there was quite civil war last summer. How little the
papers tell us. New Emperor v. goahead. English adviser named Seal. Any
relation Cynthia Seal? Hotel man seemed to doubt government’s financial
stability. Says natives are
complete savages
but no white slave traffic
—
or so he says.
March 12th
Awful
night. Bitten all over. Bill outrageous. Thought manager decent person too. Explained
provisions hard to get. Humbug. Train left at seven in morning. Sarah nearly
missed it. Two natives in carriage. I must say quite civil but v. uncomfortable
as no corridor and had left so early. Tiring journey. Country seemed dry. Due
in Debra Dowa some time this afternoon. Must say shall be thankful.
Dame
Mildred Porch and Miss Sarah Tin were in no way related to each other, but
constant companionship and a similarity of interests had so characterized them
that a stranger might easily have taken them to be sisters as they stepped from
the train on to the platform at Debra Dowa. Dame Mildred was rather stout and
Miss Tin rather spare. Each wore a khaki sun-hat in an oilcloth cover, each
wore a serviceable washable frock, and thick shoes and stockings, each had
smoked spectacles and a firm mouth. Each carried an attaché-case containing her
most inalienable possessions — washing things and writing things, disinfectant
and insecticide, books, passport, letters of credit — and held firmly to her
burden in defiance of an eager succession of porters who attempted in turn to
wrest it from her.
William
pushed his way forward and greeted them amiably. ‘Dame Mildred Porch? Miss Tin?
How are you? So glad you got here all right. I’m from the Legation. The
Minister couldn’t come himself. He’s very busy just now, but he asked me to
come along and see if you were all right. Any luggage? I’ve got a car outside
and can run you up to the Hotel.’
‘Hotel?
But I thought we should be expected at the Legation. I wired from Durban.’
‘Yes,
the Minister asked me to explain. You see, we’re some way out of the town. No
proper road. Awful business getting in and out. The Minister thought you’d be
much more comfortable in the town itself. Nearer the animals and everything.
But he particularly said he hoped you’d come over to tea one day if you ever
have the time.’
Dame
Mildred and Miss Tin exchanged that look of slighted citizenship which William
had seen in the eyes of every visitor he had ever greeted at Debra Dowa. ‘I’ll
tell you what,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and look for the luggage. I dare say it’s got
stolen on the way. Often is, you know. And I’ll get our mail out at the same
time. No King’s Messengers or anything here. If there’s no European travelling
it’s put in charge of the guard. We thought of wiring to you to look after it and
then we thought probably you had the devil of a lot of luggage yourselves.’
By the
time that the two-seater car had been loaded with the Legation bags and the two
ladies there was very little room heft for their luggage. ‘I say, d’you mind
awfully,’ said William. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to leave this trunk behind. The hotel’ll
fetch it up for you in no time.’
‘Young
man, did you come to meet us or your own mail?’
‘Now,
you know,’ said William, ‘that simply isn’t a fair question. Off we go.’ And
the overladen little car began jolting up the broad avenue into the town.
‘Is
this
where we are to stay?’ asked Miss Tin as they drew up opposite the
Grand
Café et Hotel Restaurant de l’Empereur Seth.
‘It
doesn’t look terribly smart,’ admitted William, ‘but you’ll find it a mine of
solid comfort.’
He led
them into the murky interior, dispersing a turkey and her brood from the
Reception Hall. ‘Anyone in?’ There was a bell on the counter which he rang.
“Ullo, ‘
said a voice from upstairs. ‘One minute,’ and presently Mr Youkoumian
descended, buttoning up his trousers. ‘Why, it’s Mr Bland. ‘Ullo, sir, ‘ow are
you? I ‘ad the Minister’s letter about the road this afternoon and the answer I
am afraid is nothing doing. Very occupied, the Emperor …’
‘I’ve
brought you two guests. They are English ladies of great importance. You are to
make them comfortable.’
‘I fix
them O.K.’ said Mr Youkoumian.
‘I’m
sure you’ll find everything comfortable here,’ said William. ‘And I hope we
shall ‘ see you soon at the Legation.’
‘One
minute, young man, there are a number of things I want to know.’
‘I fix
you O.K.,’ said Mr Youkoumian again.
‘Yes,
you ask Mr Youkoumian here. He’ll tell you every-thing far better than I could.
Can’t keep them waiting for the mail, you know.’
‘Impudent
young puppy,’ said Dame Mildred as the car drove away. ‘I’ll report him to the
Foreign Office as soon as I get home. Stanley shall ask a question about him in
the House.’
Mail
day at the British Legation. Sir Samson and Lady Courteney, Prudence and
William, Mm Legge and Mrs Legge, Mr and Mrs Anstruther, sitting round the
fireplace opening the bags. Bills, provisions, family news, official dispatches,
gramophone records, newspapers scattered on the carpet. Presently William said,
‘I say, d’you know who I ran into on the platform? Those two cruelty-to-animals
women who kept telegraphing.’.
‘How
very annoying. What
have
you done with them?’
‘I shot
them into Youkoumian’s. They wanted to come and stay here.’
‘Heaven
forbid. I do hope they won’t stay long. Ought we to ask them to tea or
anything?’
‘Well,
I
did
say that perhaps you’d like to see them some time.’
‘Hang
it, William, that’s a bit thick.’
‘Oh, I
don’t suppose they thought I meant it.’
‘I
sincerely hope not.’
March 12th (continued)
Arrived
Debra Dowa late in afternoon. Discourteous cub from Legation met us and left
Sarah’s trunk at station. Brought us to
frightful
hotel.
But Armenian proprietor v. obliging. Saved me visit to bank by changing money
for us into local currency. Quaint bank-notes with portrait of Emperor in
European evening dress. Mr Seal came in after dinner. He is Cynthia’s son. V.
young and ill-looking. Offhand manner. V. tired, going to bed early.
That
evening M. Ballon’s report included the entry.
Two British ladies arrived,
suspects. Met at station by Mr Bland. Proceeded Youkoumian’s.
‘They are being watched?’
‘Without
respite.’
‘Their
luggage?’
‘A
trunk was heft at the station. It has been searched but nothing incriminating
was found. Their papers are in two small bags which never leave their hands.’