I received yours of March 10 two days ago; also one from Hekekian Bey,
much advising me to stay here the summer and get my disease 'evaporated.'
Since I last wrote the great heat abated, and we now have 76 to 80
degrees, with strong north breezes up the river--glorious
weather--neither too hot nor chilly at any time. Last evening I went out
to the threshing-floor to see the stately oxen treading out the corn, and
supped there with Abdurachman on roasted corn, sour cream, and eggs, and
saw the reapers take their wages, each a bundle of wheat according to the
work he had done--the most lovely sight. The graceful, half-naked, brown
figures loaded with sheaves; some had earned so much that their mothers
or wives had to help to carry it, and little fawn-like, stark-naked boys
trudged off, so proud of their little bundles of wheat or of _hummuz_ (a
sort of vetch much eaten both green and roasted). The _sakka_
(water-carrier), who has brought water for the men, gets a handful from
each, and drives home his donkey with empty waterskins and a heavy load
of wheat, and the barber who has shaved all these brown heads on credit
this year past gets his pay, and everyone is cheerful and happy in their
gentle, quiet way; here is no beer to make men sweaty and noisy and
vulgar; the harvest is the most exquisite pastoral you can conceive. The
men work seven hours in the day (_i.e._, eight, with half-hours to rest
and eat), and seven more during the night; they go home at sunset to
dinner, and sleep a bit, and then to work again--these 'lazy Arabs'! The
man who drives the oxen on the threshing-floor gets a measure and a half
for his day and night's work, of threshed corn, I mean. As soon as the
wheat, barley, _addas_ (lentils) and _hummuz_ are cut, we shall sow
_dourrah_ of two kinds, common maize and Egyptian, and plant sugar-cane,
and later cotton. The people work very hard, but here they eat well, and
being paid in corn they get the advantage of the high price of corn this
year.
I told you how my purse had been stolen and the proceedings thereanent.
Well, Mustapha asked me several times what I wished to be done with the
thief, who spent twenty-one days here in irons. With my absurd English
ideas of justice I refused to interfere at all, and Omar and I had quite
a tiff because he wished me to say, 'Oh, poor man, let him go; I leave
the affair to God.' I thought Omar absurd, but it was I who was wrong.
The authorities concluded that it would oblige me very much if the poor
devil were punished with a 'rigour beyond the law,' and had not Sheykh
Yussuf come and explained the nature of the proceedings, the man would
have been sent up to the mines in Fazogloo _for life_, out of civility to
me, by the Moudir of Keneh, Ali Bey. There was no alternative between my
'forgiving him for the love of God' or sending him to a certain death by
a climate insupportable to these people. Mustapha and Co. tried hard to
prevent Sheykh Yussuf from speaking to me, for fear I should be angry and
complain at Cairo, if my vengeance were not wreaked on the thief, but he
said he knew me better, and brought the _proces verbal_ to show me.
Fancy my dismay! I went to Seleem Effendi and to the Kadee with Sheykh
Yussuf, and begged the man might be let go, and not sent to Keneh at all.
Having settled this, I said that I had thought it right that the people
of Karnac should pay the money I had lost, as a fine for their bad
conduct to strangers, but that I did not require it for the sake of the
money, which I would accordingly give to the poor of Luxor in the mosque
and in the church (great applause from the crowd). I asked how many were
Muslimeen and how many Nazranee, in order to divide the three napoleons
and a half, according to the numbers. Sheykh Yussuf awarded one napoleon
to the church, two to the mosque, and the half to the water-drinking
place--the _Sebeel_--which was also applauded. I then said, 'Shall we
send the money to the bishop?' but a respectable elderly Copt said,
'_Malcysh_! (never mind) better give it all to Sheykh Yussuf; he will
send the bread to the church.' Then the Cadi made me a fine speech, and
said I had behaved like a great _Emeereh_, and one that feared God; and
Sheykh Yussuf said he knew the English had mercy in their stomachs, and
that I especially had Mussulman feelings (as we say, Christian charity).
Did you ever hear of such a state of administration of justice. Of
course, sympathy here, as in Ireland, is mostly with the 'poor man' in
prison--'in trouble,' as we say. I find that accordingly a vast number
of disputes are settled by private arbitration, and Yussuf is constantly
sent for to decide between contending parties, who abide by his decision
rather than go to law; or else five or six respectable men are called
upon to form a sort of amateur jury, and to settle the matter. In
criminal cases, if the prosecutor is powerful, he has it all his own way;
if the prisoner can bribe high, he is apt to get off. All the appealing
to my compassion was quite _en regle_. Another trait of Egypt.
The other day we found all our water-jars empty and our house
unsprinkled. On enquiry it turned out that the _sakkas_ had all run
away, carrying with them their families and goods, and were gone no one
knew whither, in consequence of some 'persons having authority,' one, a
Turkish _cawass_ (policeman), having forced them to fetch water for
building purposes at so low a price that they could not bear it. My poor
_sakka_ is gone without a whole month's pay--two shillings!--the highest
pay by far given in Luxor. I am interested in another story. I hear
that a plucky woman here has been to Keneh, and threatened the Moudir
that she will go to Cairo and complain to Effendina himself of the unfair
drafting for soldiers--her only son taken, while others have bribed off.
She'll walk in this heat all the way, unless she succeeds in frightening
the Moudir, which, as she is of the more spirited sex in this country,
she may possibly do. You see these Saeedes are a bit less patient than
Lower Egyptians. The _sakkas_ can strike, and a woman can face a Moudir.
You would be amused at the bazaar here. There is a barber, and on
Tuesdays some beads, calico, and tobacco are sold. The only artizan
is--a jeweller! We spin and weave our own brown woollen garments, and
have no other wants, but gold necklaces and nose and earrings are
indispensable. It is the safest way of hoarding, and happily combines
saving with ostentation. Can you imagine a house without beds, chairs,
tables, cups, glasses, knives--in short, with nothing but an oven, a few
pipkins and water-jars, and a couple of wooden spoons, and some mats to
sleep on? And yet people are happy and quite civilized who live so. An
Arab cook, with his fingers and one cooking-pot, will serve you an
excellent dinner quite miraculously. The simplification of life possible
in such a climate is not conceivable unless one has seen it. The Turkish
ladies whom I visit at Karnac have very little more. They are very fond
of me, and always want me to stay and sleep, but how could I sleep in my
clothes on a mat-divan, poor spoiled European that I am? But they pity
and wonder far more at the absence of my 'master.' I made a bad slip of
the tongue and said 'my husband' before Abdul Rafiah, the master of the
house. The ladies laughed and blushed tremendously, and I felt very
awkward, but they turned the tables on me in a few minutes by some
questions they asked quite coolly.
I hardly know what I shall have to do. If the heat does not turn out
overpowering, I shall stay here; if I cannot bear it, I must go down the
river. I asked Omar if he could bear a summer here, so dull for a young
man fond of a little coffee-shop and gossip, for that, if he could not,
he might go down for a time and join me again, as I could manage with
some man here. He absolutely cried, kissed my hands, and declared he was
never so happy as with me, and he could not rest if he thought I had not
all I wanted. 'I am your _memlook_, not your servant--your _memlook_.'
I really believe that these people sometimes love their English masters
better than their own people. Omar certainly has shown the greatest
fondness for me on all occasions.