‘More than at our great pilgrimages?’ the Regimental Chaplain demanded.
‘Yes. Those are only cities and districts coming out to pray. This was the world walking in grief. And now, hear you! It is the King’s custom that four swords of Our Armies in Hind should stand always before the Presence in case of need.’
‘The King’s custom, our right,’ said the Subadar-Major curtly.
‘Also our right. These honoured ones are changed after certain months or years, that the honour may be fairly spread. Now it chanced that when the old King — the Queen’s son — completed his days, the four that stood in the Presence were Goorkhas. Neither Sikhs alas, nor Pathans, Rajputs, nor Jats. Goorkhas, my father.’
‘Idolaters,’ said the Chaplain.
‘But soldiers; for I remember in the Tirah — ’ the Havildar-Major began.
‘But soldiers, for I remember fifteen campaigns. Go on,’ said the Subadar-Major.
‘And it was their honour and right to furnish one who should stand in the Presence by day and by night till It went out to burial. There were no more than four all told — four old men to furnish that guard.’
‘Old? Old? What talk is this of old men?’ said the Subadar-Major.
‘Nay. My fault! Your pardon!’ The Havildar-Major spread a deprecating hand. ‘They were strong, hot, valiant men, and the youngest was a lad of forty-five.’
‘That is better,’ the Subadar-Major laughed.
‘But for all their strength and heat they could not eat strange food from the Sahibs’ hands. There was no cooking place in the Temple; but a certain Colonel Forsyth Sahib, who had understanding, made arrangement whereby they should receive at least a little caste-clean parched grain; also cold rice maybe, and water which was pure. Yet, at best, this was no more than a hen’s mouthful, snatched as each came off his guard. They lived on grain and were thankful, as the saying is.
‘One hour’s guard in every four was each man’s burden, for, as I have shown, they were but four all told; and the honour of Our Armies in Hind was on their heads. The Sahibs could draw upon all the armies in England for the other watchers — thousands upon thousands of fresh men — if they needed; but these four were but four.
‘The Sahibs drew upon the Granadeers for the other watchers. Granadeers be very tall men under very tall bearskins, such as Fusilier regiments wear in cold weather. Thus, when a Granadeer bowed his head but a very little over his stock, the bearskin sloped and showed as though he grieved exceedingly. Now the Goorkhas wear flat, green caps — ’
‘I see, I see,’ said the Subadar-Major impatiently.
‘They are bull-necked, too; and their stocks are hard, and when they bend deeply — deeply — to match the Granadeers — they come nigh to choking themselves. That was a handicap against them, when it came to the observance of ritual.
‘Yet even with their tall, grief-declaring bearskins, the Granadeers could not endure the full hour’s guard in the Presence. There was good cause, as I will show, why no man could endure that terrible hour. So for them the hour’s guard was cut to one-half. What did it matter to the Sahibs? They could draw on ten thousand Granadeers. Forsyth Sahib, who had comprehension, put this choice also before the four, and they said, “No, ours is the Honour of the Armies of Hind. Whatever the Sahibs do, we will suffer the full hour.”
‘Forsyth Sahib, seeing that they were — knowing that they could neither sleep long nor eat much, said, “Is it great suffering?” They said, “It is great honour. We will endure.”
‘Forsyth Sahib, who loves us, said then to the eldest, “Ho, father, tell me truly what manner of burden it is; for the full hour’s watch breaks up our men like water.”
‘The eldest answered, “Sahib, the burden is the feet of the multitude that pass us on either side. Our eyes being lowered and fixed, we see those feet only from the knee down — a river of feet, Sahib, that never — never — never stops. It is not the standing without any motion; it is not hunger; nor is it the dead part before the dawn when maybe a single one comes here to weep. It is the burden of the unendurable procession of feet from the knee down, that never — never — never stops!”
‘Forsyth Sahib said, “By God, I had not considered that! Now I know why our men come trembling and twitching off that guard. But at least, my father, ease the stock a little beneath the bent chin for that one hour.”
‘The eldest said, “We are in the Presence. Moreover He knew every button and braid and hook of every uniform in all His armies.”
‘Then Forsyth Sahib said no more, except to speak about their parched grain, but indeed they could not eat much after their hour, nor could they sleep much because of eye-twitchings and the renewed procession of the feet before the eyes. Yet they endured each his full hour — not half an hour — his one full hour in each four hours.’
‘Correct! correct!’ said the Subadar-Major and the Chaplain together. ‘We come well out of this affair.’
‘But seeing that they were old men,’ said the Subadar-Major reflectively, ‘very old men, worn out by lack of food and sleep, could not arrangements have been made, or influence have been secured, or a petition presented, whereby a well-born Sikh might have eased them of some portion of their great burden, even though his substantive rank — ’
‘Then they would most certainly have slain me,’ said the Havildar-Major with a smile.
‘And they would have done correctly,’ said the Chaplain. ‘What befell the honourable ones later?’
‘This. The Kings of the earth and all the Armies sent flowers and such-like to the dead King’s palace at Wanidza, where the funeral offerings were accepted. There was no order given, but all the world made oblation. So the four took counsel — three at a time — and either they asked Forsyth Sahib to choose flowers, or themselves they went forth and bought flowers — I do not know; but, however it was arranged, the flowers were bought and made in the shape of a great drum-like circle weighing half a maund.
‘Forsyth Sahib had said, “Let the flowers be sent to Wanidza with the other flowers which all the world is sending.” But they said among themselves, “It is not fit that these flowers, which are the offerings of His Armies in Hind, should come to the Palace of the Presence by the hands of hirelings or messengers, or of any man not in His service.”
‘Hearing this, Forsyth Sahib, though he was much occupied with office-work, said, “Give me the flowers, and I will steal a time and myself take them to Wanidza.”
‘The eldest said, “Since when has Forsyth Sahib worn sword?”
‘Forsyth Sahib said, “But always. And I wear it in the Presence when I put on uniform. I am a Colonel in the Armies of Hind.” The eldest said, “Of what regiment?” And Forsyth Sahib looked on the carpet and pulled the hair of his lip. He saw the trap.’
‘Forsyth Sahib’s regiment was once the old Forty-sixth Pathans which was called — ’ the Subadar-Major gave the almost forgotten title, adding that he had met them in such and such campaigns, when Forsyth Sahib was a young captain.
The Havildar-Major took up the tale, saying, ‘The eldest knew that also, my father. He laughed, and presently Forsyth Sahib laughed.
‘“It is true,” said Forsyth Sahib. “I have no regiment. For twenty years I have been a clerk tied to a thick pen. Therefore I am the more fit to be your orderly and messenger in this business.”
‘The eldest then said, “If it were a matter of my life or the honour of any of my household, it would be easy.” And Forsyth Sahib joined his hands together, half laughing, though he was ready to weep, and he said, “Enough! I ask pardon. Which one of you goes with the offering?”
‘The eldest said, feigning not to have heard, “Nor must they be delivered by a single sword — as though we were pressed for men in His service,” and they saluted and went out.’
‘Were these things seen, or were they told thee?’ said the Subadar-Major.
‘I both saw and heard in the office full of books and papers where my Colonel Sahib con
sulted Forsyth Sahib upon the business that had brought my Colonel Sahib to England.’
‘And what was that business?’ the Regimental Chaplain asked of a sudden, looking full at the Havildar-Major, who returned the look without a quiver.
‘That was not revealed to me,’ said the Havildar-Major.
‘I heard it might have been some matter touching the integrity of certain regiments,’ the Chaplain insisted.
‘The matter was not in any way open to my ears,’ said the Havildar-Major.
‘Humph!’ The Chaplain drew his hard road-worn feet under his robe. ‘Let us hear the tale that it is permitted thee to tell,’ he said, and the Havildar-Major went on:
‘So then the three, having returned to the Temple, called the fourth, who had only forty-five years, when he came off guard, and said, “We go to the Palace at Wanidza with the offerings. Remain thou in the Presence, and take all our guards, one after the other, till we return.”
‘Within that next hour they hired a large and strong mota-kahar for the journey from the Temple to Wanidza, which is twenty koss or more, and they promised expedition. But he who took their guards said, “It is not seemly that we should for any cause appear to be in haste. There are eighteen medals with eleven clasps and three Orders to consider. Go at leisure. I can endure.”
‘So the three with the offerings were absent three hours and a half, and having delivered the offering at Wanidza in the correct manner they returned and found the lad on guard, and they did not break his guard till his full hour was ended. So he endured four hours in the Presence, not stirring one hair, his eyes abased, and the river of feet, from the knee down, passing continually before his eyes. When he was relieved, it was seen that his eyeballs worked like weavers’ shuttles.
‘And so it was done — not in hot blood, not for a little while, nor yet with the smell of slaughter and the noise of shouting to sustain, but in silence, for a very long time, rooted to one place before the Presence among the most terrible feet of the multitude.’
‘Correct!’ the Chaplain chuckled.
‘But the Goorkhas had the honour,’ said the Subadar-Major sadly.
‘Theirs was the Honour of His Armies in Hind, and that was Our Honour,’ the nephew replied.
‘Yet I would one Sikh had been concerned in it — even one low-caste Sikh. And after?’
‘They endured the burden until the end — until It went out of the Temple to be laid among the older kings at Wanidza. When all was accomplished and It was withdrawn under the earth, Forsyth Sahib said to the four, “The King gives command that you be fed here on meat cooked by your own cooks. Eat and take ease, my fathers.”
‘So they loosed their belts and ate. They had not eaten food except by snatches for some long time; and when the meat had given them strength they slept for very many hours; and it was told me that the procession of the unendurable feet ceased to pass before their eyes any more.’
He threw out one hand palm upward to show that the tale was ended.
‘We came well and cleanly out of it,’ said the Subadar-Major.
‘Correct! Correct! Correct!’ said the Regimental Chaplain. ‘In an evil age it is good to hear such things, and there is certainly no doubt that this is a very evil age.’
* * *
JOBSON’S AMEN
‘Blessed be the English and all their ways and works.
Cursed be the Infidels, Hereticks, and Turks!’
‘Amen,’ quo’ Jobson, ‘but where I used to lie
Was neither Candle, Bell nor Book to curse my brethren by:
‘But a palm-tree in full bearing, bowing down, bowing down,
To a surf that drove unsparing at the brown-walled town —
Conches in a temple, oil-lamps in a dome —
And a low moon out of Africa said: “This way home!”‘
‘Blessed be the English and all that they profess.
Cursed be the Savages that prance in nakedness!’
‘Amen,’ quo’ Jobson, ‘but where I used to lie
Was neither shirt nor pantaloons to catch my brethren by:
‘But a well-wheel slowly creaking, going round, going round,
By a water-channel leaking over drowned, warm ground —
Parrots very busy in the trellised pepper-vine —
And a high sun over Asia shouting: “Rise and shine!”‘
‘Blessed be the English and everything they own.
Cursed be the Infidels that bow to wood and stone!’
‘Amen,’ quo’ Jobson, ‘but where I used to lie
Was neither pew nor Gospelleer to save my brethren by:
‘But a desert stretched and stricken, left and right, left and right,
Where the piled mirages thicken under white-hot light —
A skull beneath a sand-hill and a viper coiled inside —
And a red wind out of Libya roaring: “Run and hide!”‘
‘Blessed be the English and all they make or do.
Cursed be the Hereticks who doubt that this is true!’
‘Amen,’ quo’ Jobson, ‘but where I mean to die
Is neither rule nor calliper to judge the matter by:
‘But Himalaya heavenward-heading, sheer and vast, sheer and vast,
In a million summits bedding on the last world’s past;
A certain sacred mountain where the scented cedars climb,
And — the feet of my Beloved hurrying back through Time!’
* * *
Regulus
(1917)
Regulus, a Roman general, defeated the Carthaginians 256 B.C., but was next year defeated and taken prisoner by the Carthaginians, who sent him to Rome with an embassy to ask for peace or an exchange of prisoners. Regulus strongly advised the Roman Senate to make no terms with the enemy. He then returned to Carthage and was put to death.
The Fifth Form had been dragged several times in its collective life, from one end of the school Horace to the other. Those were the years when Army examiners gave thousands of marks for Latin, and it was Mr. King’s hated business to defeat them.
Hear him, then, on a raw November morning at second lesson.
‘Aha!’ he began, rubbing his hands. ‘Cras ingens iterabimus aequor. Our portion to-day is the Fifth Ode of the Third Book, I believe — concerning one Regulus, a gentleman. And how often have we been through it?’
‘Twice, sir,’ said Malpass, head of the Form.
Mr. King shuddered. ‘Yes, twice, quite literally,’ he said. ‘To-day, with an eye to your Army viva-voce examinations — ugh! — I shall exact somewhat freer and more florid renditions. With feeling and comprehension if that be possible. I except’ — here his eye swept the back benches — ’our friend and companion Beetle, from whom, now as always, I demand an absolutely literal translation.’ The form laughed subserviently.
‘Spare his blushes! Beetle charms us first.’
Beetle stood up, confident in the possession of a guaranteed construe, left behind by M’Turk, who had that day gone into the sick-house with a cold. Yet he was too wary a hand to show confidence.
‘Credidimus, we — believe — we have believed,’ he opened in hesitating slow time, ‘tonantem Joven, thundering Jove — regnare, to reign — caelo, in heaven. Augustus, Augustus — habebitur, will be held or considered — praesens divus, a present God — adjectis Britannis, the Britons being added — imperio, to the Empire — gravibusque Persis, with the heavy — er, stern Persians.’
‘What?’
‘The grave or stern Persians.’ Beetle pulled up with the ‘Thank-God-I-have-done-my-duty’ air of Nelson in the cockpit.
‘I am quite aware,’ said King, ‘that the first stanza is about the extent of your knowledge, but continue, sweet one, continue. Gravibus, by the way, is usually translated as “troublesome.”‘
Beetle drew a long and tortured breath. The second stanza (which carries over to the third) of that Ode is what is technically called a ‘stinker.’ But M’Turk had done him
handsomely.
‘Milesne Crassi, had — has the soldier of Crassus — vixit, lived — turpis maritus, a disgraceful husband — ’
‘You slurred the quantity of the word after turpis,’ said King. ‘Let’s hear it.’
Beetle guessed again, and for a wonder hit the correct quantity. ‘Er — a disgraceful husband — conjuge barbara, with a barbarous spouse.’
‘Why do you select that disgustful equivalent out of all the dictionary?’ King snapped. ‘Isn’t “wife” good enough for you?’
‘Yes, sir. But what do I do about this bracket, sir? Shall I take it now?’
‘Confine yourself at present to the soldier of Crassus.’
‘Yes, sir. Et, and — consenuit, has he grown old — in armis, in the — er — arms — hositum socerorum, of his father-in-law’s enemies.’
‘Who? How? Which?’
‘Arms of his enemies’ fathers-in-law, sir.’
‘Tha-anks. By the way, what meaning might you attach to in armis?’
‘Oh, weapons — weapons of war, sir.’ There was a virginal note in Beetle’s voice as though he had been falsely accused of uttering indecencies. ‘Shall I take the bracket now, sir?’
‘Since it seems to be troubling you.’
‘Pro Curia, O for the Senate House — inversique mores, and manners upset — upside down.’
‘Ve-ry like your translation. Meantime, the soldier of Crassus?’
‘Sub rege Medo, under a Median King — Marsus et Apulus, he being a Marsian and an Apulian.’
‘Who? The Median King?’
‘No, sir. The soldier of Crassus. Oblittus agrees with milesne Crassi, sir,’ volunteered too-hasty Beetle.
‘Does it? It doesn’t with me.’
‘Oh-blight-us,’ Beetle corrected hastily, ‘forgetful — anciliorum, of the shields, or trophies — et nominis, and the — his name — et togae, and the toga — eternaeque Vestae, and eternal Vesta — incolumi Jove, Jove being safe — et urbe Roma, and the Roman city.’ With an air of hardly restrained zeal — ’Shall I go on, sir?’
Complete Works of Rudyard Kipling (Illustrated) Page 491