Black Mischief

by Evelyn Waugh

  ‘Up to? I came in from Mass and found him eating my breakfast.’ A tremendous buffet on the side of his head sent the sergeant-major dizzily across the road. ‘Don’t you let me find any more of your fellows hanging round the mission today or there’ll be trouble. It’s always the same when you have troops in a town. I remember in Duke Japheth’s rebellion, the wretched creatures were all over the place. They frightened the sisters terribly over at the fever hospital.’

  ‘Father, is it true that the Emperor’s cut and rur?’

  ‘If he hasn’t he’s about the only person. I had that old fraud of an Armenian Archbishop in here the other night, trying to make me join him in a motor-boat. I told him I’d sooner have my throat cut on dry land than face that crossing in an open boat. I’ll bet he was sick.’

  ‘But you don’t know where the Emperor is?’

  ‘He might be over in the fort. He was the other day. Silly young ass, pasting up proclamations all over the town. I’ve got other things to bother about than young Seth. And mind you keep your miserable savages from my mission or they’ll know the reason why. I’ve got a lot of our people camped in here so as to be out of harm’s way, and I am not going to have them disturbed. Good morning to you, General.’

  General Connolly rode on. At the fort he found no sentry on guard. The courtyard was empty save for the body of Ali, which hay on its face in the dust, the cord which had strangled him still tightly twined round his neck. Connolly turned it over with his boot but failed to recognize the swollen and darkened face.

  ‘So His Imperial Majesty has shot the moon.’

  He looked into the deserted guard-house and the lower rooms of the fort; then he climbed the spiral stone staircase which led to Seth’s room, and here, lying across the camp bed in spotted silk pyjamas recently purchased in the Place Vendôme, utterly exhausted by the horror and insecurity of the preceding night, lay the Emperor of Azania fast asleep.

  From his bed Seth would only hear the first, rudimentary statement of his victory. Then he dismissed his commander-in-chief and with remarkable self-restraint insisted on performing a complete and fairly elaborate toilet before giving his mind to the details of the situation. When, eventually, he came downstairs dressed in the full and untarnished uniform of the Imperial Horse Guards, he was in a state of some elation. ‘You see, Connolly,’ he cried, clasping his general’s hand with warm emotion, ‘I was right. I knew that it was impossible for us to fail.’

  ‘We came damn near it once or twice,’ said Connolly.

  ‘Nonsense, my dear fellow. We are Progress and the New Age. Nothing can stand in our way. Don’t you see? The world is already ours; it is our world now, because we are of the Present. Seyid and his ramshackle band of brigands were the Past. Dark barbarism. A cobweb in a garret; dead wood; a whisper echoing in a sunless cave. We are Light and Speed and Strength, Steel and Steam, Youth, Today and Tomorrow. Don’t you see? Our little war was won on other fields five centuries back.’ The young darky stood there transfigured; his eyes shining; his head thrown back; tipsy with words. The white man knocked out his pipe on the heel of his riding boot and felt for a pouch in his tunic pocket.

  ‘All right, Seth, say it your way. All I know is that my little war was won the day before yesterday and by two very ancient weapons — lies and the long spear.’

  ‘But my tank? Was it not that which gave us the victory?’

  ‘Marx’s tin can? A fat lot of use that was. I told you you were wasting money, but you would have the thing. The best thing you can do is to present it to Debra Dowa as a war memorial, only you couldn’t get it so far. My dear boy, you can’t take a machine like that over this country under this sun. The whole thing was red hot after five miles. The two poor devils of Greeks who had to drive it nearly went off their heads. It came in handy in the end though. We used it as a punishment cell. It was the one thing these black bastards would really take notice of. It’s all right getting on a high horse about progress now that everything’s over. It doesn’t hurt anyone. But if you want to know, you were as near as nothing to losing the whole bag of tricks at the end of last week. Do you know what that clever devil Seyid had done? Got hold of a photograph of you taken at Oxford in cap and gown. He had several thousand printed and circulated among the guards. Told them you’d deserted the Church in England and that there you were in the robes of an English Mohammedan. All the mission boys fell for it. It was no good telling them. They were going over to the enemy in hundreds every night. I was all in. There didn’t seem a damned thing to do. Then I got an idea. You know what the name of Amurath means among the tribesmen. Well, I called a shari of all the Wanda and Sakuya chiefs and spun them the yarn. Told them that Amurath never died — which they believed already most of them — but that he had crossed the sea to commune with the spirits of his ancestors; that you were Amurath, himself, come back in another form. It went down from the word go. I wish you could have seen their faces. The moment they’d heard the news they were mad to be at Seyid there and then. It was all I could do to keep them back until I had him where I wanted him. What’s more, the story got through to the other side and in two days we had a couple of thousand of Seyid’s boys coming over to us. Double what we’d lost on the Mohammedan story and real fighters — not dressed-up mission boys. Well, I kept them back as best I could for three days. We were on the crest of the hills al the time and Seyid was down in the valley, kicking up the devil burning villages, trying to make us come down to him. He was getting worried about the desertions. Well, on the third day I sent half a company of guards down with a band and a whole lot of mules and told them to make themselves as conspicuous as they could straight in front of him in the Ukaka pass. Trust the guards to do that. He did just what I expected; thought it was the whole army and spread out on both sides trying to surround them. Then I let the tribesmen in on his rear. My word, I’ve never seen such a massacre. Didn’t they enjoy themselves, bless them. Half of them haven’t come back yet; they’re still chasing the poor devils all over the hills.’

  ‘And the usurper Seyid, did he surrender?’

  ‘Yes, he surrendered all right. But, look here, Seth, I hope you aren’t going to mind about this, but you see how it was, well, you see, Seyid surrendered and …’

  ‘You don’t mean you’ve let him escape?’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that, but the fact is, he surrendered to a party of Wanda … and, well, you know what the Wanda are.’

  ‘You mean …..

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I wouldn’t have had it happen for anything. I didn’t hear about it until afterwards.’

  ‘They should not have eaten him — after all, he was my father … It is so … so barbarous.’

  ‘I knew you’d feel that way about it, Seth, and I’m sorry. I gave the headmen twelve hours in the tank for it.’

  ‘I am afraid that as yet the Wanda are totally out of touch with modern thought. They need education. We must start some schools and a university for them when we get things straight.’

  ‘That’s it, Seth, you can’t blame them. It’s want of education. That’s all it is.’

  ‘We might start them on Montessori methods, ‘ said Seth dreamily. ‘You can’t blame them.’ Then rousing himself:

  ‘Connolly, I shall make you a Duke.’

  ‘That’s nice of you, Seth. I don’t mind so much for myself, but Black Bitch will be pleased as Punch about it.’

  ‘And, Connolly.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t you think that when she is a Duchess, it might be more suitable if you were to try and call your wife by another name? You see, there will probably be a great influx of distinguished Europeans for my coronation. We wish to break down colour barriers as far as possible. Your name for Mrs Connolly, though suitable as a term of endearment in the home, seems to emphasize the racial distinction between you in a way which might prove disconcerting.’

  ‘I dare say you’re right, Seth. I’ll try and remember when we’re in company
. But I shall always think of her as Black Bitch, somehow. By the way, what has become of Ali?’

  ‘Ali? Yes, I had forgotten. He was murdered by Major Joab yesterday evening. And that reminds me of something else. I must order a new crown.’

  Chapter Two

  Lovey dovey, cat’s eyes.’

  ‘You got that out of a book.’

  ‘Well, yes. How did you know?’

  ‘I read it too. It’s been all round the compound.’

  ‘Anyway, I said it as a quotation. We have to find new things to say somehow sometimes, don’t we?’

  William and Prudence rolled apart and lay on their backs, sun hats tilted over their noses, shading their eyes from the brilliant equatorial sun. They were on the crest of the little hills above Debra Dowa; it was cool there, eight thousand feet up. Behind them in a stockade of euphorbia trees stood a thatched Nestorian shrine. At its door the priest’s youngest child lay sunning his naked belly, gazing serenely into the heavens, indifferent to the flies which settled on the corners of his mouth and sauntered across his eyeballs. Below them the tin roofs of Debra Dowa and a few thin columns of smoke were visible among the blue gums. At a distance the Legation syce sat in charge of the ponies.

  ‘William, darling, there’s something so extraordinary on your neck. I believe it’s two of them.’

  ‘Well, I think you might knock it off.’

  ‘I believe it’s that kind which sting worst.’

  ‘Beast.’

  ‘Oh, it’s gone now. It was two.’

  ‘I can feel it walking about.’

  ‘No, darling, that’s me. I think you might look sometimes when I’m being sweet to you. I’ve invented a new way of kissing. You do it with your eyelashes.’

  ‘I’ve known that for years. It’s called a butterfly kiss.’

  ‘Well you needn’t be so high up about it. I only do these things for your benefit.’

  ‘It was very nice, darling. I only said it wasn’t very new.’

  ‘I don’t believe you liked it at all.’

  ‘It was so like the stinging thing.’

  ‘Oh, how maddening it is to have no one to make love with except you.’

  ‘Sophisticated voice.’

  ‘That’s not sophisticated. It’s my gramophone record voice. My sophisticated voice is quite different. It’s like this.’

  ‘I call that American.’

  ‘Shall I do my vibrant-with-passion voice?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh dear, men are hard to keep amused.’ Prudence sat up and lit a cigarette. ‘I think you’re effeminate and undersexed,’ she said, ‘and I hate you.’

  ‘That’s because you’re too young to arouse serious emotion. You might give me a cigarette.’

  ‘I hoped you’d say that. It happens to be the last. Not only the last in my pocket but the last in Debra Dowa. I got it out of the Envoy Extraordinary’s bedroom this morning.’

  ‘Oh Lord, when will this idiotic war be over? We haven’t had a bag for six weeks. I’ve run out of hair-wash and detective stories and now no cigarettes. I think you might give me some of that.’

  ‘I hope you go bald. Still, I’ll let you have the cigarette.’

  ‘Pru, how sweet of you. I never thought you would.’

  ‘I’m that kind of girl.’

  ‘I think I’ll give you a kiss.’

  ‘No, try the new way with eyelashes.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Delicious. Do it some more. ‘.

  Presently they remounted and rode back to the Legation. On the way William said:

  ‘I hope it doesn’t give one a twitch.’

  ‘What doesn’t, darling?’

  ‘That way with the eyelashes. I’ve seen people with twitches. I dare say that’s how they got it. There was once a man who got run in for winking at girls in the street. So he said it was a permanent affliction and he winked all through his trial and got off. But the sad thing is that now he can’t stop and he’s been winking ever since.’

  ‘I will say one thing for you,’ said Prudence. ‘You do know a lovely lot of stories. I dare say that’s why I like you.’

  Three Powers — Great Britain, France and the United States — maintained permanent diplomatic representatives at Debra Dowa. It was not an important appointment. Mr Schonbaum, the doyen, had adopted diplomacy late in life. Indeed the more formative years of his career had already passed before he made up his mind, in view of the uncertainty of Central European exchanges, to become a citizen of the republic he represented. From the age of ten until the age of forty he had lived an active life variously engaged in journalism, electrical engineering, real estate, cotton broking, hotel management, shipping and theatrical promotion. At the outbreak of the European war he had retired first to the United States, and then, on its entry into the war, to Mexico. Soon after the declaration of peace he became an American citizen and amused himself in politics. Having subscribed largely to a successful Presidential campaign, he was offered his choice of several public preferments, of which the ministry at Debra Dowa was by far the least prominent or lucrative. His European upbringing, however, had invested diplomacy with a glamour which his later acquaintance with the great world had never completely dimmed; he had made all the money he needed; the climate at Debra Dowa was reputed to be healthy and the environment romantic. Accordingly he had chosen that post and had not regretted it, enjoying during the last eight years a popularity and prestige which he would hardly have attained among his own people.

  The French Minister, M. Ballon, was a Freemason.

  His Britannic Majesty’s minister, Sir Samson Courteney, was a man of singular personal charm and wide culture whose comparative ill-success in diplomatic life was attributable rather to inattention than to incapacity. As a very young man he had great things predicted of him. He had passed his examinations with a series of papers of outstanding brilliance; he had powerful family connections in the Foreign Office; but almost from the outset of his career it became apparent that he would disappoint expectations. As third secretary at Peking he devoted himself, to the exclusion of all other interests, to the construction of a cardboard model of the Summer Palace; transferred to Washington he conceived a sudden enthusiasm for bicycling and would disappear for days at a time to return dusty but triumphant with reports of some broken record for speed or endurance; the scandal caused by this hobby culminated in the discovery that he had entered his name for an international long-distance championship. His uncles at the Foreign Office hastily shifted him to Copenhagen, marrying him, on his way through London, to the highly suitable daughter of a Liberal cabinet minister. It was in Sweden that his career was finally doomed. For some time past he had been noticeably silent at the dinner table when foreign languages were being spoken; now the shocking truth became apparent that he was losing his mastery even of French; many ageing diplomats, at loss for a word, could twist the conversation and suit their opinions to their vocabulary; Sir Samson recklessly improvised or lapsed into a kind of pidgin English. The uncles were loyal. He was recalled to London and established in a department of the Foreign Office. Finally, at the age of fifty, when his daughter Prudence was thirteen years old, he was created a Knight of St Michael and St George and relegated to Azania. The appointment caused him the keenest delight. It would have astonished him to learn that anyone considered him unsuccessful or that he was known throughout the service as the ‘Envoy Extraordinary’.

  The Legation lay seven miles out of the capital; a miniature garden city in a stockaded compound, garrisoned by a troop of Indian cavalry. There was wireless communication with Aden and a telephone service, of capricious activity, to the town. The road, however, was outrageous. For a great part of the year it was furrowed by water-courses, encumbered with boulders, landslides and fallen trees, and ambushed by cut-throats. On this matter Sir Samson’s predecessor had addressed numerous remonstrances to the Azanian government with the result that several wayfarers were hanged under
suspicion of brigandage; nothing, however, was done about the track; the correspondence continued and its conclusion was the most nearly successful achievement of Sir Samson’s career. Stirred by his appointment and zealous for his personal comfort, the Envoy Extraordinary had, for the first time in his life, thrown himself wholeheartedly into a question of public policy. He had read through the entire file bearing on the subject and with-in a week of presenting his papers, re-opened the question in a personal interview with the Prince Consort. Month after month he pressed forward the interchange of memoranda between Palace, Legation, Foreign Office and Office of Works (the posts of Lord Chamberlain, Foreign Secretary and Minister of Works were all, as it happened at that time, occupied by the Nestorian Metropolitan), until one memorable day Prudence returned from her ride to say that a caravan of oxen, a load of stones and three chain-gangs of convicts had appeared on the road. Here, however, Sir Samson suffered a setback. The American commercial attaché acted, in his ample spare time, as agents for a manufacturer of tractors, agricultural machinery and steam-. rollers. At his representation the convicts were withdrawn and the Empress and her circle settled down to the choice of a steam-roller. She had always had a weakness for illustrated catalogues and after several weeks’ discussion had ordered a threshing machine, a lawn mower and a mechanical saw. About the steam-roller she could not make up her mind. The Metropolitan Archbishop (who was working with the American attaché on a half-commission basis) supported a very magnificent engine named Pennsylvania Monarch; the Prince Consort, whose personal allowance was compromised by any public extravagance, headed a party in favour of the more modest Kentucky Midget. Meanwhile guests to the British Legation were still in most seasons of the year obliged to ride out to dinner on mule-back, preceded by armed Askaris and a boy with a lantern. It was widely believed that a decision was imminent, when the Empress’s death and the subsequent civil war postponed all immediate hope of improvement. The Envoy Extraordinary bore the reverse with composure but real pain. He had taken the matter to heart and he felt hurt and disillusioned. The heap of stones at the roadside remained for him as a continual reproach, the monument to his single ineffective excursion into statesmanship.