I wish you all, 'may the year be good to thee' as we say here--and now
for my history. We left Cairo on the 5th Decr. I was not well. No wind
as usual, and we were a week getting to Benisonef where the Stamboolee
Greek lady who was so kind to me last summer in my illness came on board
with a very well-bred Arab lady. I was in bed, and only stayed a few
hours. On to Minieh another five or six days--walked about and saw the
preparations for the Pasha's arrival. Nothing so flat as these affairs
here. Not a creature went near the landing-place but his own servants,
soldiers, and officials. I thought of the arrival of the smallest of
German princes, which makes ten times the noise. Next on to Siout. Ill
again, and did not land or see anyone. On to Girgeh, where we only
stayed long enough to deliver money and presents which I had been begged
to take for some old sailors of mine to their mothers and wives there.
Between Siout and Girgeh an Abyssinian slave lad came and wanted me to
steal him; he said his master was a Copt and ill-used him, and the lady
beat him. But Omar sagely observed to the sailors, who were very anxious
to take him, that a bad master did not give his slave such good clothes
and even a pair of shoes--_quel luxe_!--and that he made too much of his
master being a Copt; no doubt he was a lazy fellow, and perhaps had run
away with other property besides himself. Soon after I was sitting on
the pointed prow of the boat with the Reis, who was sounding with his
painted pole (_vide_ antique sculptures and paintings), and the men
towing, when suddenly something rose to the surface close to us: the men
cried out _Beni Adam_! and the Reis prayed for the dead. It was a woman:
the silver bracelets glittered on the arms raised and stiffened in the
agony of death, the knees up and the beautiful Egyptian breasts floated
above the water. I shall never forget the horrid sight. 'God have mercy
on her,' prayed my men, and the Reis added to me, 'let us also pray for
her father, poor man: you see, no robber has done this (on account of the
bracelets). We are in the Saeed now, and most likely she has blackened
her father's face, and he has been forced to strangle her, poor man.' I
said 'Alas!' and the Reis continued, 'ah, yes, it is a heavy thing, but a
man must whiten his face, poor man, poor man. God have mercy on him.'
Such is Saeedee _point d'honneur_. However, it turned out she was
drowned bathing.
Above Girgeh we stopped awhile at Dishne, a large village. I strolled up
alone, _les mains dans les poches_, '_sicut meus est mos_:' and was soon
accosted with an invitation to coffee and pipes in the strangers' place,
a sort of room open on one side with a column in the middle, like two
arches of a cloister, and which in all the villages is close to the
mosque: two or three cloaks were pulled off and spread on the ground for
me to sit on, and the milk which I asked for, instead of the village
coffee, brought. In a minute a dozen men came and sat round, and asked
as usual, 'Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou?' and my gloves,
watch, rings, etc. were handed round and examined; the gloves always call
forth many _Mashallah's_. I said, 'I come from the Frank country, and am
going to my place near Abu'l Hajjaj.' Hereupon everyone touched my hand
and said, 'Praise be to God that we have seen thee. Don't go on: stay
here and take 100 feddans of land and remain here.' I laughed and asked,
'Should I wear the _zaboot_ (brown shirt) and the _libdeh_, and work in
the field, seeing there is no man with me?' There was much laughing, and
then several stories of women who had farmed large properties well and
successfully. Such undertakings on the part of women seem quite as
common here as in Europe, and more common than in England.
I took leave of my new friends who had given me the first welcome home to
the Saeed, and we went on to Keneh, which we reached early in the
morning, and I found my well-known donkey-boys putting my saddle on. The
father of one, and the two brothers of the other, were gone to work on
the railway for sixty days' forced labour, taking their own bread, and
the poor little fellows were left alone to take care of the Hareem. As
soon as we reached the town, a couple of tall young soldiers in the Nizam
uniform rushed after me, and greeted me in English; they were Luxor lads
serving their time. Of course they attached themselves to us for the
rest of the day. We then bought water jars (the _specialite_ of Keneh);
_gullehs_ and _zees_--and I went on to the Kadee's house to leave a
little string of beads, just to show that I had not forgotten the worthy
Kadee's courtesy in bringing his little daughter to sit beside me at
dinner when I went down the river last summer. I saw the Kadee giving
audience to several people, so I sent in the beads and my salaam; but the
jolly Kadee sallied forth into the street and 'fell upon my neck' with
such ardour that my Frankish hat was sent rolling by contact with the
turban of Islam. The Kadee of Keneh is the real original Kadee of our
early days; sleek, rubicund, polite--a puisne judge and a dean rolled
into one, combining the amenities of the law and the church--with an
orthodox stomach and an orthodox turban, both round and stately. I was
taken into the hareem, welcomed and regaled, and invited to the festival
of Seyd Abd er-Racheem, the great saint of Keneh. I hesitated, and said
there were great crowds, and some might be offended at my presence; but
the Kadee declared 'by Him who separated us' that if any such ignorant
persons were present it was high time they learnt better, and said that
it was by no means unlawful for virtuous Christians, and such as neither
hated nor scorned the Muslimeen, to profit by, or share in their prayers,
and that I should sit before the Sheykh's tomb with him and the Mufti;
and that _du reste_, they wished to give thanks for my safe arrival.
Such a demonstration of tolerance was not to be resisted. So after going
back to rest, and dine in the boat, I returned at nightfall into the town
and went to the burial-place. The whole way was lighted up and thronged
with the most motley crowd, and the usual mixture of holy and profane,
which we know at the Catholic _fetes_ also; but more _prononce_ here.
Dancing girls, glittering with gold brocade and coins, swaggered about
among the brown-shirted fellaheen, and the profane singing of the
_Alateeyeh_ mingled with the songs in honour of the Arab prophet chanted
by the Moonsheeds and the deep tones of the 'Allah, Allah' of the
Zikeers. Rockets whizzed about and made the women screech, and a
merry-go-round was in full swing. And now fancy me clinging to the
skirts of the Cadi ul Islam (who did not wear a spencer, as the Methodist
parson threatened his congregation he would do at the Day of Judgement)
and pushing into the tomb of the Seyd Abd er-Racheem, through such a
throng. No one seemed offended or even surprised. I suppose my face is
so well known at Keneh. When my party had said a _Fattah_ for me and
another for my family, we retired to another _kubbeh_, where there was no
tomb, and where we found the Mufti, and sat there all the evening over
coffee and pipes and talk. I was questioned about English administration
of justice, and made to describe the process of trial by jury. The Mufti
is a very dignified gentlemanly man, and extremely kind and civil. The
Kadee pressed me to stay next day and dine with him and the Mufti, but I
said I had a lantern for Luxor, and I wanted to arrive before the
_moolid_ was over, and only three days remained. So the Kadee
accompanied me back to the boat, looked at my maps, which pleased him
very much, traced out the line of the railway as he had heard it, and had
tea.
Next morning we had the first good wind, and bowled up to Luxor in one
day, arriving just after sunset. Instantly the boat was filled. Of
course Omar and the Reis at once organized a procession to take me and my
lantern to the tomb of Abu-l-Hajjaj--it was the last night but one of his
moolid. The lantern was borne on a pole between two of my sailors, and
the rest, reinforced by men from a steamer which was there with a
Prussian prince, sung and thumped the tarabookeh, and we all marched up
after I had undergone every variety of salutation, from Sheykh Yussuf's
embrace to the little boys' kissing of hands. The first thing I heard
was the hearty voice of the old Shereef, who praised God that 'our
darling' was safe back again, and then we all sat down for a talk; then
more _Fattahs_ were said for me, and for you, and for the children; and I
went back to bed in my own boat. I found the guard of the French house
had been taken off to Keneh to the works, after lying eight days in
chains and wooden handcuffs for resisting, and claiming his rights as a
French _protege_. So we waited for his return, and for the keys which he
had taken with him, in hopes that the Keneh authorities would not care to
keep me out of the house. I wrote to the French Consular agent at Keneh,
and to the Consul at Alexandria, and got him back the third day. What
would you think in Europe to see me welcome with enthusiasm a servant
just out of chains and handcuffs? At the very moment, too, that Mohammed
and I were talking, a boat passed up the river with musick and singing on
board. It was a Sheykh-el-Beled, of a place above Esneb, who had lain in
prison three years in Cairo, and whose friends were making all the
fantasia they could to celebrate the end of his misfortune, of disgrace,
_il n'en est pas question_; and why should it? So many honest men go to
prison that it is no presumption at all against a man.
The day after my arrival was the great and last day. The crowd was but
little and not lively--times are too hard. But the riding was beautiful.
Two young men from Hegaz performed wonderful feats.
I dined with the Maohn, whose wife cooked me the best dinner I ever ate
in this country, or almost anywhere. Marie, who was invited, rejoiced
the kind old lady's heart by her Belgian appreciation of the excellent
cookery. 'Eat, my daughter, eat,' and even I managed to give
satisfaction. Such Bakloweh I never tasted. We removed to the house
yesterday, and I have had company ever since.
One Sheykh Alee--a very agreeable man from beyond Khartoom, offers to
take me up to Khartoom and back with a Takhterawan (camel litter) in
company with Mustapha A'gha, Sheykh Yussuf and a troop of his own
Abab'deh. It is a terrible temptation--but it would cost 50 pounds--so I
refused. Sheykh Alee is so clever and well-bred that I should enjoy it
much, and the climate at this season is delightful. He has been in the
Denka country where the men are a cubit taller than Sheykh Hassan whom
you know, and who enquires tenderly after you.
Now let me describe the state of things. From the Moudeeriat of Keneh
only, 25,000 men are taken to work for sixty days without food or pay;
each man must take his own basket, and each third man a hoe, not a
basket. If you want to pay a substitute for a beloved or delicate son,
it costs 1,000 piastres--600 at the lowest; and about 300 to 400 for his
food. From Luxor only, 220 men are gone; of whom a third will very
likely die of exposure to the cold and misery (the weather is unusually
cold). That is to say that this little village, of at most 2,000 souls
male and female (we don't usually count women, from decorum), will pay in
labour at least 1,320 pounds in sixty days. We have also already had
eleven camels seized to go up to the Soudan; a camel is worth from 18 to
40 pounds.
Last year Mariette Bey made excavations at Gourneh forcing the people to
work but promising payment at the rate of--Well, when he was gone the
four Sheykhs of the village at Gourneh came to Mustapha and begged him to
advance the money due from Government, for the people were starving.
Mustapha agrees and gives above 300 purses--about 1,000 pounds in
_current_ piastres on the understanding that he is to get the money from
Government in _tariff_--and to keep the difference as his profit. If he
cannot get it at all the fellaheen are to pay him back without interest.
Of course at the rate at which money is here, his profit would be but
small interest on the money unless he could get the money directly, and
he has now waited six months in vain.
Abdallah the son of el-Habbeshee of Damankoor went up the river in chains
to Fazoghlou a fortnight ago and Osman Bey ditto last week--El-Bedrawee
is dead there, of course.
Shall I tell you what became of the hundred prisoners who were sent away
after the Gau business? As they marched through the desert the Greek
memlook looked at his list each morning, and said, 'Hoseyn, Achmet,
Foolan (like the Spanish Don Fulano, Mr. so and so), you are free; take
off his chains.' Well, the three or four men drop behind, where some
arnouts strangle them out of sight. This is banishment to Fazoghlou. Do
you remember _le citoyen est elargi_ of the September massacres of Paris?
Curious coincidence, is it not? Everyone is exasperated--the very Hareem
talk of the government. It is in the air. I had not been five minutes
in Keneh before I knew all this and much more. Of the end of Hajjee
Sultan I will not speak till I have absolute certainty, but, I believe
the proceeding was as I have described--set free in the desert and
murdered by the way. I wish you to publish these facts, it is no secret
to any but to those Europeans whose interests keep their eyes tightly
shut, and they will soon have them opened. The blind rapacity of the
present ruler will make him astonish the Franks some day, I think.
Wheat is now 400 piastres the ardeb up here; the little loaf, not quite
so big as our penny roll, costs a piastre--about three-half-pence--and
all in proportion. I need not say what the misery is. Remember that
this is the second levy of 220 men within six months, each for sixty
days, as well as the second seizure of camels; besides the conscription,
which serves the same purpose, as the soldiers work on the Pasha's works.
But in Cairo they are paid--and well paid.
It is curious how news travels here. The Luxor people knew the day I
left Alexandria, and the day I left Cairo, long before I came. They say
here that Abu-l-Hajjaj gave me his hand from Keneh, because he would not
finish his moolid without me. I am supposed to be specially protected by
him, as is proved by my health being so far better here than anywhere
else.
By the bye, Sheykh Alee Abab'deh told me that all the villages _close_ on
the Nile escaped the cholera almost completely, whilst those who were
half or a quarter of a mile inland were ravaged. At Keneh 250 a day
died; at Luxor one child was supposed to have died of it, but I know he
had diseased liver for a year or more. In the desert the Bishareen and
Abab'deh suffered more than the people at Cairo, and you know the desert
is usually the place of perfect health; but fresh Nile water seems to be
_the_ antidote. Sheykh Yussuf laid the mortality at Keneh to the canal
water, which the poor people drink there. I believe the fact is as
Sheykh Alee told me.
Now I will say good-bye, for I am tired, and will write anon to the rest.
Let Mutter have this. I was very poorly till I got above Siout, and then
gradually mended--constant blood spitting and great weakness and I am
very thin, but, by the protection of Abu-l-Hajjaj I suppose I am already
much better, and begin to eat again. I have not been out yet since the
first day, having much to do in the house to get to rights. I felt very
dreary on Christmas-day away from you all, and Omar's plum-pudding did
not cheer me at all, as he hoped it would. He begs me to kiss your hand
for him, and every one sends you salaam, and all lament that you are not
the new Consul at Cairo.
Kiss my chicks, and love to you all. Janet, I hope is in Egypt ere this.