Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah — Volume 1Burton, Richard Francis, Sir
ReligionIslamic
Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah & Meccah — Volume 1
Burton, Richard Francis, Sir
Arabian Peninsula -- Description and travel
Ali Agha welcomed me politely, and seeing me admire the preparations,
bade me beware how I suspected an Albanian of not knowing how to drink;
he made me sit by him on the bed, threw his dagger to a handy distance,
signalled me to do the same, and prepared to begin the bout. Taking up
a little tumbler, in shape like those from which French postilions used
to drink la goutte, he inspected it narrowly, wiped out the interior
with his forefinger, filled it to the brim, and offered it to his
guest[FN#28] with a bow. I received it with a low salam, swallowed its
contents at once, turned it upside down in proof of fair play, replaced
it upon the floor, with a jaunty movement of the arm, somewhat like a
pugilist delivering a "rounder," bowed again, and requested him to help
himself. The same ceremony followed on his part. Immediately after each
glass,-and rapidly the cup went about,-we swallowed a draught of water,
and ate a spoonful of the meat or the Salatah in order to cool our
palates. Then we re-applied ourselves to our pipes, emitting huge
puffs, a sign of being "fast" men, and looked facetiously at each
other,-drinking being considered by Moslems a funny and pleasant sort
of sin.
The Albanian captain was at least half seas over when we began the
bout, yet he continued to fill and to drain without showing the least
progress towards ebriety. I in vain for a time expected the bad-masti
(as the Persians call it,) the horse play, and the gross facetiae,
which generally
[p.137]accompany southern and eastern tipsiness. Ali Agha, indeed,
occasionally took up the bottle of perfume, filled the palm of his
right hand, and dashed it in my face: I followed his example, but our
pleasantries went no further.
Presently my companion started a grand project, namely, that I should
entice the respectable Haji Wali into the room, where we might force
him to drink. The idea was facetious; it was making a Bow-street
magistrate polk at a casino. I started up to fetch the Haji; and when I
returned with him Ali Agha was found in a new stage of "freshness." He
had stuck a green-leaved twig upright in the floor, and had so turned
over a gugglet of water, that its contents trickled slowly, in a tiny
stream under the verdure; whilst he was sitting before it mentally
gazing, with an outward show of grim Quixotic tenderness, upon the
shady trees and the cool rills of his fatherland. Possibly he had
peopled the place with "young barbarians at play;" for verily I thought
that a tear "which had no business there" was glistening in his stony
eye.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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