On arriving here last night I found one letter from you, dated December
10, and have received nothing else. Pray write again forthwith to Cairo
where I hope to stay some weeks. A clever old dragoman I met at Philae
offers to lend me furniture for a lodging or a tent for the desert, and
when I hesitated he said he was very well off and it was not his business
to sell things, but only to be paid for his services by rich people, and
that if I did not accept it as he meant it he should be quite hurt. This
is what I have met with from everything Arab--nothing but kindness and
politeness. I shall say farewell to Egypt with real feeling; among other
things, it will be quite a pang to part with Omar who has been my shadow
all this time and for whom I have quite an affection, he is so thoroughly
good and amiable.
I am really much better I hope and believe, though only within the last
week or two. We have had the coldest winter ever known in Nubia, such
bitter north-east winds, but when the wind by great favour did not blow,
the weather was heavenly. If the millennium really does come I shall
take a good bit of mine on the Nile. At Assouan I had been strolling
about in that most poetically melancholy spot, the granite quarry of old
Egypt and burial-place of Muslim martyrs, and as I came homewards along
the bank a party of slave merchants, who had just loaded their goods for
Senaar from the boat on the camels, asked me to dinner, and, oh! how
delicious it felt to sit on a mat among the camels and strange bales of
goods and eat the hot tough bread, sour milk and dates, offered with such
stately courtesy. We got quite intimate over our leather cup of sherbet
(brown sugar and water), and the handsome jet-black men, with features as
beautiful as those of the young Bacchus, described the distant lands in a
way which would have charmed Herodotus. They proposed to me to join
them, 'they had food enough,' and Omar and I were equally inclined to go.
It is of no use to talk of the ruins; everybody has said, I suppose, all
that can be said, but Philae surpassed my expectations. No wonder the
Arab legends of Ans el Wogood are so romantic, and Abou Simbel and many
more. The scribbling of names is quite infamous, beautiful paintings are
defaced by Tomkins and Hobson, but worst of all Prince Puckler Muskau has
engraved his and his _Ordenskreuz_ in huge letters on the naked breast of
that august and pathetic giant who sits at Abou Simbel. I wish someone
would kick him for his profanity.
I have eaten many odd things with odd people in queer places, dined in a
respectable Nubian family (the castor-oil was trying), been to a Nubian
wedding--such a dance I saw. Made friends with a man much looked up to
in his place (Kalabshee--notorious for cutting throats), inasmuch as he
had killed several intrusive tax-gatherers and recruiting officers. He
was very gentlemanly and kind and carried me up a place so steep I could
not have reached it. Just below the cataract--by-the-by going up is
nothing but noise and shouting, but coming down is fine fun--_Fantasia
khateer_ as my excellent little Nubian pilot said. My sailors all prayed
away manfully and were horribly frightened. I confess my pulse
quickened, but I don't think it was fear. Well, below the cataract I
stopped for a religious fete, and went to a holy tomb with the darweesh,
so extraordinarily handsome and graceful--the true _feingemacht_ noble
Bedaween type. He took care of me through the crowd, who never had seen
a Frank woman before and crowded fearfully, and pushed the true believers
unmercifully to make way for me. He was particularly pleased at my not
being afraid of Arabs; I laughed, and asked if he was afraid of us. 'Oh
no! he would like to come to England; when there he would work to eat and
drink, and then sit and sleep in the church.' I was positively ashamed
to tell my religious friend that with us the 'house of God' is not the
house of the poor stranger. I asked him to eat with me but he was
holding a preliminary Ramadan (it begins next week), and could not; but
he brought his handsome sister, who was richly dressed, and begged me to
visit him and eat of his bread, cheese and milk. Such is the treatment
one finds if one leaves the highroad and the backsheesh-hunting
parasites. There are plenty of 'gentlemen' barefooted and clad in a
shirt and cloak ready to pay attentions which you may return with a civil
look and greeting, and if you offer a cup of coffee and a seat on the
floor you give great pleasure, still more if you eat the dourah and
dates, or bread and sour milk with an appetite.
At Koom Ombo we met a Rifaee darweesh with his basket of tame snakes.
After a little talk he proposed to initiate me, and so we sat down and
held hands like people marrying. Omar sat behind me and repeated the
words as my 'Wakeel,' then the Rifaee twisted a cobra round our joined
hands and requested me to spit on it, he did the same and I was
pronounced safe and enveloped in snakes. My sailors groaned and Omar
shuddered as the snakes put out their tongues--the darweesh and I smiled
at each other like Roman augurs. I need not say the creatures were
toothless.
It is worth going to Nubia to see the girls. Up to twelve or thirteen
they are neatly dressed in a bead necklace and a leather fringe 4 inches
wide round the loins, and anything so absolutely perfect as their shapes
or so sweetly innocent as their look can't be conceived. My pilot's
little girl came in the dress mentioned before carrying a present of
cooked fish on her head and some fresh eggs; she was four years old and
so _klug_. I gave her a captain's biscuit and some figs, and the little
pet sat with her little legs tucked under her, and ate it so _manierlich_
and was so long over it, and wrapped up some more white biscuit to take
home in a little rag of a veil so carefully. I longed to steal her, she
was such a darling. Two beautiful young Nubian women visited me in my
boat, with hair in little plaits finished off with lumps of yellow clay
burnished like golden tags, soft, deep bronze skins, and lips and eyes
fit for Isis and Hathor. Their very dress and ornaments were the same as
those represented in the tombs, and I felt inclined to ask them how many
thousand years old they were. In their house I sat on an ancient
Egyptian couch with the semicircular head-rest, and drank out of crockery
which looked antique, and they brought a present of dates in a basket
such as you may see in the British Museum. They are dressed in drapery
like Greek statues, and are as perfect, but have hard, bold faces, and,
though far handsomer, lack the charm of the Arab women; and the men,
except at Kalabshee and those from far up the country, are not such
gentlemen as the Arabs.
Everyone is cursing the French here. Forty thousand men always at work
at the Suez Canal at starvation-point, does not endear them to the Arabs.
There is great excitement as to what the new Pasha will do. If he ceases
to give forced labour, the Canal, I suppose, must be given up. Well, I
must leave off and send my letter to Mustapha Aga to forward. I shall
stay here ten days or so, and then return slowly to Cairo on March 10,
the last day of Ramadan. I will stay a short time at Cairo, and then
take a small boat and drop down to Alexandria and see Janet. How I did
wish for my darling Rainie to play with Achmet in the boat and see the
pretty Nubian boys and girls. I have seen and heard so much, that like
M. de Conti _je voudrais etre leve pour l'aller dire_. I long to bore
you with traveller's tales. Pray write soon.
Omar wanted to hear all that 'the gentleman' said about 'weled and bint'
(boy and girl), and was quite delighted to hear of Maurice's good report
at school, he thinks that the 'Abou el welad' (father of the
children--you, to wit) will send a sheep to the 'fikee' who teaches him.
I have learned a new code of propriety altogether--_cela a du bon et du
mauvais_, like ours. When I said 'my husband' Omar blushed and gently
corrected me; when my donkey fell in the streets he cried with vexation,
and on my mentioning the fall to Hekekian Bey he was quite indignant.
'Why you say it, ma'am? that shame'--a _faux pas_ in fact. On the other
hand they mention all that belongs to the production of children with
perfect satisfaction and pleasure. A very pleasing, modest and handsome
Nubian young woman, wishing to give me the best present she could think
of, brought me a mat of her own making, and which had been her
marriage-bed. It was a gift both friendly and honourable, and I treasure
it accordingly. Omar gave me a description of his own marriage,
appealing to my sympathy about the distress of absence from his wife. I
intimated that English people were not accustomed to some words and might
be shocked, on which he said, 'Of course I not speak of my Hareem to
English gentleman, but to good Lady can speak it.'
Good-bye, dear Alick, no, that is improper: I must say 'O my Lord' or
'Abou Maurice.'