I have just received your letter of Christmas-day, and am glad to answer
it with a really amended report of myself. I had a very slight return a
week ago, but for the last five or six days the daily flushing and fever
has also ceased. I sent for one of the Arab doctors of the Azizeeyeh
steamer to see Omar, and myself also, and he was very attentive, and took
a note of medicines to send me from Cairo by a _confrere_: and when I
offered a fee he said, 'God forbid--it is only our duty to do anything in
the world for you.' Likewise a very nice Dr. Ingram saw some of my worst
cases for me, and gave me good advice and help; but I want better
books--Kesteven is very useful, as far as it goes, but I want something
more _ausfuhrlich_ and scientific. Ramadan is a great trouble to me,
though Sheykh Yussuf tells the people not to fast, if I forbid it: but
many are ill from having begun it, and one fine old man of about
fifty-five died of apoplexy on the fourth night. My Christian patient is
obstinate, and fasts, in spite of me, and will, I think, seal his fate;
he was so much better after the blistering and Dr. Ingram's mixture. I
wish you could have seen a lad of eighteen or so, who came here to-day
for medicine. I think I never saw such sweet frank, engaging manners, or
ever heard any one express himself better: quite _une nature distinguee_,
not the least handsome, but the most charming countenance and way of
speaking.
My good friend the Maohn spent the evening with me, and told me all the
story of his marriage, though quite 'unfit to meet the virtuous eyes of
British propriety--' as I read the other day in some paper apropos of I
forget what--it will give you an idea of the feelings of a Muslim
_honnete homme_, which Seleem is through and through. He knew his wife
before he married her, she being twenty-five or twenty-six, and he a boy;
she fell in love with him, and at seventeen he married her, and they have
had ten children, all alive but two, and a splendid race they are. He
told me how she courted him with glasses of sherbet and trays of
sweatmeats, and how her mother proposed the marriage, and how she
hesitated on account of the difference of age, but, of course, at last
consented: all with the naivest vanity in his own youthful attractions,
and great extolling of her personal charms, and of her many virtues.
When he was sent up here she would not, or could not, leave her children.
On the Sitt's arrival his slave girl was arrogant, and refused to kiss
her hand, and spoke saucily of her age, whereupon Seleem gave her in
marriage to a black man and pays for her support, as long as she likes to
suckle the child he (Seleem) had by her, which child will in due time
return to his house. _Kurz_, the fundamental idea in it all, in the mind
of an upright man, is, that if a man 'takes up' with a woman at all, he
must make himself responsible for her before the world; and above all for
the fate of any child he may have by her (you see the Prophet of the
Arabs did not contemplate ladies _qui savent nager_ so well in the
troubled waters of life as we are now blessed with. I don't mean to say
that many men are as scrupulous as my excellent friend Seleem, either
here or even in our own moral society). All this was told with
expressions quite incompatible with our manners, though not at all
_leste_--and he expatiated on his wife's personal charms in a very quaint
way; the good lady is now hard upon sixty and looks it fully; but he
evidently is as fond of her as ever. As a curious trait of primitive
manners, he told me of her piety and boundless hospitality; how when some
friends came late one evening, unexpectedly, and there was only a bit of
meat, she killed a sheep and cooked it for them with her own hands. And
this is a Cairene lady, and quite a lady too, in manners and appearance.
The day I dined there she was dressed in very ragged, old cotton clothes,
but spotlessly clean; and she waited on me with a kind, motherly
pleasure, that quite took away the awkwardness I felt at sitting down
while she stood. In a few days she and her husband are to dine with me,
a thing which no Arab couple ever did before (I mean dine out together),
and the old lady was immensely amused at the idea. Omar will cook and
all male visitors will be sent to the kitchen. Now that I understand all
that is said to me, and a great deal of the general conversation, it is
much more amusing. Seleem Effendi jokes me a great deal about my
blunders, especially my lack of _politikeh_, the Greek word for what we
should call flummery; and my saying _lazim_ (you must, or rather _il
faut_), instead of humble entreaties. I told him to teach me better, but
he laughed heartily, and said, 'No, no, when you say _lazim_, it is
_lazim_, and nobody wants the stick to force him to say _Hadr_ (ready) O
Sheykh-el-Arab, O Emeereh.'
Fancy my surprise the other day just when I was dictating letters to
Sheykh Yussuf (letters of introduction for Ross's inspecting agent) with
three or four other people here, in walked Miss North (Pop) whom I have
not seen since she was a child. She and her father were going up the
second cataract. She has done some sketches which, though rather
unskilful, were absolutely true in colour and effect, and are the very
first that I have seen that are so. I shall see something of them on
their return. She seemed very pleasant. Mr. North looked rather
horrified at the turbaned society in which he found himself. I suppose
it did look odd to English eyes.
We have had three days of the south wind, which the 'Saturday Review'
says I am not to call Samoom; and I was poorly, and kept in bed two days
with a cold. Apropos, I will give you the Luxor contribution towards the
further confusion of the Samoom (or Simoom) controversy. I told Sheykh
Yussuf that an English newspaper, written by particularly clever people,
said that I was wrong to call the bad wind here 'Samoom,' (it was in an
article on Palgrave's book, I think). Sheykh Yussuf said, 'True, oh
lady, no doubt those learned gentlemen' (politely saluting them with his
hand) 'thought one such as thou shouldest have written classical Arabic
(_Arabi fossieh_), and have called it "_al Daboor_;" nevertheless, it is
proper to write it "Samoom," not, as some do "Simoom," which is the
plural of _sim_ (poison).' I shook my head, and said, I did not
recollect _al Daboor_. Then my Reis, sitting at the door, offered his
suggestion. 'Probably the English, who it is well known are a nation of
sailors, use the name given to the land wind by _el-baharieh_ (the
boatmen), and call it _el-mereeseh_.' 'But,' said I, 'the clever
gentlemen say that I am wrong altogether, and never can have seen a
_real_ Samoom, for that would have killed me in ten minutes.' Hereupon
Sheykh Mohammed el-Abab'deh, who is not nearly so polished as his brother
Hassan, burst into a regular bedawee roar of laughter, and said, 'Yah! do
the _Ganassil_ (Europeans) take thee for a rat, oh lady? Whoever heard
of _el Beni Adam_ (the children of Adam) dying of the wind? Men die of
thirst quicker when the Samoom blows and they have no water. But no one
ever died of the wind alone, except the rats--they do.' I give you the
opinion of three 'representative men--' scholar, sailor, and bedawee; if
that helps you to a solution of the controversy.
We have just had a scene, rather startling to notions about fatalism,
etc. Owing to the importation of a good deal of cattle from the Soudan,
there is an expectation of the prevalence of small-pox, and the village
barbers are busy vaccinating in all directions to prevent the infection
brought, either by the cattle or, more likely, by their drivers. Now, my
maid had told me she had never been vaccinated, and I sent for Hajjee
Mahmood to cut my hair and vaccinate her. To my utter amazement the
girl, who had never shown any religious bigotry, and does not fast, or
make any demonstrations, refused peremptorily. It appears that the
priests and sisters appointed by the enlightened administration of
Prussia instil into their pupils and penitents that vaccination is a
'tempting of God.' _Oh oui_, she said, _je sais bien que chez nous mes
parents pouvaient recevoir un proces verbal, mais il vaut mieux cela que
d'aller contre la volonte de Dieu. Si Dieu le veut, j'aurai la
petite-verole, et s'il ne veut pas, je ne l'aurai pas_. I scolded her
pretty sharply, and said it was not only stupid, but selfish. 'But what
can one do?' as Hajjee Mahmood said, with a pitying shake of his head;
'these Christians are so ignorant!' He blushed, and apologized to me,
and said, 'It is not their fault; all this want of sense is from the
priests who talk folly to them for money, and to keep them afraid before
themselves. Poor things, _they_ don't know the Word of God.--"Help
thyself, oh my servant, and I will help thee."' This is the second
contest I have had on this subject. Last year it was with a Copt, who
was all _Allah kereem_ and so on about his baby, with his child of four
dying of small-pox. 'Oh, man,' said Sheykh Yussuf, 'if the wall against
which I am now sitting were to shake above my head, should I fold my feet
under me and say _Allah kereem_, or should I use the legs God has given
me to escape from it?'
I had a visit the other day from a lady who, as I was informed, had been
a harlot in Siout. She has repented, and married a converted Copt. They
are a droll pair of penitents, so very smart in their dress and manner.
But no one _se scandalise_ at their antecedents--neither is it proper to
repent in sackcloth and ashes, or to confess sins, except to God alone.
You are not to _indulge_ in telling them to others; it is an offence.
Repent inwardly, and be ashamed to show it before the people--ask pardon
of God only. A little of this would do no harm in Europe, methinks.
Here is a pretty story for you from the _Hadeth en-Nebbee_ (sayings of
the Prophet). 'Two prophets were sitting together, and discoursing of
prayer and the difficulty of fixing the attention entirely on the act.
One said to the other, "Not even for the duration of two _rekahs_
(prayers ending with the prostration and _Allah akbar_) can a man fix his
mind on God alone." The other said, "Nay, but I can do it!" "Say then
two _rekahs_," replied the elder of the two; "I will give thee my cloak."
Now he wore two cloaks--a new handsome red one and an old shabby blue
one. The younger prophet rose, raised his hands to his head, said _Allah
akbar_, and bent to the ground for his first _rekah_; as he rose again he
thought "Will he give me the red cloak or the blue, I wonder?"' It is
very stupid of me not to write down all the pretty stories I hear, but
this one is a capital specimen of Arab wit. Some day I must bring over
Omar with me, Inshallah, to England, and he will tell you stories like
Scheherazade herself. A jolly Nubian Alim told me the other night how in
his village no man ever eats meat, except on Bairam day: but one night a
woman had a piece of meat given her by a traveller; she put it in the
oven and went out. During her absence her husband came in and smelt it,
and as it was just the time of the _eshe_ (first prayers one hour after
sunset), he ran up to the hill outside the village, and began to chaunt
forth the _tekbeer_ with all his might--_Allah akbar_, _Allah akbar_,
etc. etc., till the people ran to see what was the matter. 'Why, to-day
is Bairam,' says he. 'Where is thy witness, O man?' 'The meat in the
oven--the meat in the oven.'