I arrived here on the morning of the 11th. I am a beast not to have
written, but I caught cold after four days and have really not been well,
so forgive me, and I will narrate and not apologize. We came up best
pace, as the boat is a flyer now, only fourteen days to Thebes, and to
Keneh only eleven. Then we had bad winds, and my men pulled away at the
rope, and sang about the _Reis el-Arousa_ (bridegroom) going to his
bride, and even Omar went and pulled the rope. We were all very merry,
and played practical jokes on a rascal who wanted a pound to guide me to
the tombs: we made him run miles, fetch innumerable donkeys, and then
laughed at his beard. Such is boatmen fun. On arriving at Luxor I heard
a _charivari_ of voices, and knew I was 'at home,' by the shrill pipe of
the little children, _el Sitt_, _el Sitt_. Visitors all day of course,
at night comes up another dahabieh, great commotion, as it had been
telegraphed from Cairo (which I knew before I left, and was to be
stopped). So I coolly said, 'Oh Mustapha, the Indian saint (Walee) is in
thine eye, seeing that an Indian is all as one with an Englishman.' 'How
did I know there was an Indian and a Walee?' etc. Meanwhile the Walee
had a bad thumb, and some one told his slave that there was a wonderful
English doctress, so in the morning he sent for me, and I went inside the
hareem. He was very friendly, and made me sit close beside him, told me
he was fourth in descent from Abd el-Kader Gylamee of Bagdad, but his
father settled at Hyderabad, where he has great estates. He said he was
a Walee or saint, and would have it that I was in the path of the
darweeshes; gave me medicine for my cough; asked me many questions, and
finally gave me five dollars and asked if I wanted more? I thanked him
heartily, kissed the money politely, and told him I was not poor enough
to want it and would give it in his name to the poor of Luxor, but that I
would never forget that the Indian Sheykh had behaved like a brother to
an English woman in a strange land. He then spoke in great praise of the
'laws of the English,' and said many more kind things to me, adding
again, 'I tell thee thou art a Darweesh, and do not thou forget me.'
Another Indian from Lahore, I believe the Sheykh's tailor, came to see
me--an intelligent man, and a Syrian doctor; a manifest scamp. The
people here said he was a _bahlawar_ (rope-dancer). Well, the
authorities detained the boat with fair words till orders came from Keneh
to let them go up further. Meanwhile the Sheykh came out and performed
some miracles, which I was not there to see, perfuming people's hands by
touching them with his, and taking English sovereigns out of a pocketless
jacket, and the doctor told wonders of him. Anyhow he spent 10 pounds in
one day here, and he is a regular darweesh. He and all the Hareem were
poorly dressed and wore no ornaments whatever. I hope Seyd Abdurachman
will come down safe again, but no one knows what the Government wants of
him or why he is so watched. It is the first time I ever saw an Oriental
travelling for pleasure. He had about ten or twelve in the hareem, among
them his three little girls, and perhaps twenty men outside, Indians, and
Arabs from Syria, I fancy.
Next day I moved into the old house, and found one end in ruins, owing to
the high Nile and want of repair. However there is plenty more safe and
comfortable. I settled all accounts with my men, and made an inventory
in Arabic, which Sheykh Yussuf wrote for me, which we laughed over
hugely. How to express a sauce-boat, a pie-dish, etc. in Arabic, was a
poser. A genteel Effendi, who sat by, at last burst out in
uncontrollable amazement; 'There is no God but God: is it possible that
four or five Franks can use all these things to eat, drink and sleep on a
journey?' (N.B. I fear the Franks will think the stock very scanty.)
Whereupon master Achmet, with the swagger of one who has seen cities and
men, held forth. 'Oh Effendim, that is nothing; Our Lady is almost like
the children of the Arabs. One dish or two, a piece of bread, a few
dates, and Peace, (as we say, there is an end of it). But thou shouldst
see the merchants of Escandarieh, (Alexandria), three tablecloths, forty
dishes, to each soul seven plates of all sorts, seven knives and seven
forks and seven spoons, large and small, and seven different glasses for
wine and beer and water.' 'It is the will of God,' replied the Effendi,
rather put down: 'but,' he added, 'it must be a dreadful fatigue to them
to eat their dinner.' Then came an impudent merchant who wanted to go
down with his bales and five souls in my boat for nothing. But I said,
'Oh man, she is my property, and I will eat from her of thy money as of
the money of the Franks.' Whereupon he offered 1 pound, but was bundled
out amid general reproaches for his avarice and want of shame. So all
the company said a _Fattah_ for the success of the voyage, and Reis
Mohammed was exhorted to 'open his eyes,' and he should have a tarboosh
if he did well.
Then I went to visit my kind friend the Maohn's wife, and tell her all
about her charming daughter and grandchildren. I was, of course, an hour
in the streets salaaming, etc. '_Sheerafteenee Beledna_, thou hast
honoured our country on all sides.' 'Blessings come with thee,' etc.
Everything is cheaper than last year, but there is no money to buy with,
and the taxes have grown beyond bearing, as a fellah said, 'a man can't
(we will express it "blow his nose," if you please; the real phrase was
less parliamentary, and expressive of something at once _ventose_ and
valueless) without a cawass behind him to levy a tax on it.' The
ha'porth of onions we buy in the market is taxed on the spot, and the
fish which the man catches under my window. I paid a tax on buying
charcoal, and another on having it weighed. People are terribly beaten
to get next year's taxes out of them, which they have not the money to
pay.
The Nubian M.P.'s passed the other day in three boats, towed by a
steamer, very frightened and sullen. I fell in with some Egyptians on my
way, and tried the European style of talk. 'Now you will help to govern
the country, what a fine thing for you,' etc. I got such a look of
rueful reproach. 'Laugh not thou at our beards O Effendim! God's mercy,
what words are these? and who is there on the banks of the Nile who can
say anything but _hader_ (ready), with both hands on the head, and a
salaam to the ground even to a Moudir; and thou talkest of speaking
before Effendina! Art thou mad, Effendim?' Of all the vexations none
are more trying than the distinctions which have been inflicted on the
unlucky Sheykhs el-Beled. In fear and trembling they ate their
Effendina's banquet and sadly paid the bill: and those who have had the
_Nishan_ (the order of the Mejeedee) have had to disburse fees whereat
the Lord Chamberlain's staff's mouths might water, and now the wretched
delegates to the Egyptian Chambers (God save the mark) are going down
with their hearts in their shoes. The Nubians say that the Divan is to
be held in the Citadel and that the road by which the Memlook Beys left
it is not stopped up, though perhaps it goes underground nowadays. {315}
_November_ 27.--The first steamer full of travellers has just arrived,
and with it the bother of the ladies all wanting my saddle. I forbade
Mustapha to send for it, but they intimidate the poor old fellow, and he
comes and kisses my hand not to get him into trouble with one old woman
who says she is the relation of a Consul and a great lady in her own
country. I am what Mrs. Grote called 'cake' enough to concede to
Mustapha's fears what I had sworn to refuse henceforth. Last year five
women on one steamer all sent for my saddle, besides other
things--campstools, umbrellas, beer, etc., etc. This year I'll bolt the
doors when I see a steamer coming. I hear the big people are so angry
with the Indian saint because he treated them like dirt everywhere. One
great man went with a Moudir to see him, and asked him to sell him a
memlook (a young slave boy). The Indian, who had not spoken or saluted,
burst forth, 'Be silent, thou wicked one! dost thou dare to ask me to
sell thee a soul to take it with thee to hell?' Fancy the surprise of
the 'distinguished' Turk. Never had he heard such language. The story
has travelled all up the river and is of course much enjoyed.
Last night Sheykh Yussuf gave an entertainment, killed a sheep, and had a
reading of the _Sirat er-Russoul_ (Chapter on the Prophet). It was the
night of the Prophet's great vision, and is a great night in Islam. I
was sorry not to be well enough to go. Now that there is no Kadee here,
Sheykh Yussuf has lots of business to settle; and he came to me and said,
'Expound to me the laws of marriage and inheritance of the Christians,
that I may do no wrong in the affairs of the Copts, for they won't go and
be settled by the priest out of the Gospels, and I can't find any laws,
except about marriage in the Gospels.' I set him up with the text of the
tribute money, and told him to judge according to his own laws, for that
Christians had no laws other than those of the country they lived in.
Poor Yussuf was sore perplexed about a divorce case. I refused to
'expound,' and told him all the learned in the law in England had not yet
settled which text to follow.
Do you remember the German story of the lad who travelled _um das Gruseln
zu lernen_? Well, I, who never _gruselte_ before, had a touch of it a
few evenings ago. I was sitting here quietly drinking tea, and four or
five men were present, when a cat came to the door. I called 'biss,
biss,' and offered milk, but pussy, after looking at us, ran away. 'Well
dost thou, oh Lady,' said a quiet, sensible man, a merchant here, 'to be
kind to the cat, for I dare say he gets little enough at home; _his_
father, poor man, cannot cook for his children every day.' And then in
an explanatory tone to the company, 'That is Alee Nasseeree's boy
Yussuf--it must be Yussuf, because his fellow twin Ismaeen is with his
mule at Negadeh.' _Mir gruselte_, I confess, not but what I have heard
things almost as absurd from gentlemen and ladies in Europe; but an
'extravagance' in a _kuftan_ has quite a different effect from one in a
tail coat. 'What my butcher's boy who brings the meat--a cat?' I gasped.
'To be sure, and he knows well where to look for a bit of good cookery,
you see. All twins go out as cats at night if they go to sleep hungry;
and their own bodies lie at home like dead meanwhile, but no one must
touch them, or they would die. When they grow up to ten or twelve they
leave it off. Why your boy Achmet does it. Oh Achmet! do you go out as
a cat at night?' 'No,' said Achmet tranquilly, 'I am not a twin--my
sister's sons do.' I inquired if people were not afraid of such cats.
'No, there is no fear, they only eat a little of the cookery, but if you
beat them they will tell their parents next day, "So-and-so beat me in
his house last night," and show their bruises. No, they are not Afreets,
they are _beni Adam_ (sons of Adam), only twins do it, and if you give
them a sort of onion broth and camel's milk the first thing when they are
born, they don't do it at all.' Omar professed never to have heard of
it, but I am sure he had, only he dreads being laughed at. One of the
American missionaries told me something like it as belonging to the
Copts, but it is entirely Egyptian, and common to both religions. I
asked several Copts who assured me it was true, and told it just the
same. Is it a remnant of the doctrine of transmigration? However the
notion fully accounts for the horror the people feel at the idea of
killing a cat.
A poor pilgrim from the black country was taken ill yesterday at a
village six miles from here, he could speak only a few words of Arabic
and begged to be carried to the Abab'deh. So the Sheykh el-Beled put him
on a donkey and sent him and his little boy, and laid him in Sheykh
Hassan's house. He called for Hassan and begged him to take care of the
child, and to send him to an uncle somewhere in Cairo. Hassan said, 'Oh
you will get well Inshallah, etc., and take the boy with you.' 'I cannot
take him into the grave with me,' said the black pilgrim. Well in the
night he died and the boy went to Hassan's mat and said, 'Oh Hassan, my
father is dead.' So the two Sheykhs and several men got up and went and
sat with the boy till dawn, because he refused to lie down or to leave
his father's corpse. At daybreak he said, 'Take me now and sell me, and
buy new cloth to dress my father for the tomb.' All the Abab'deh cried
when they heard it, and Hassan went and bought the cloth, and some sweet
stuff for the boy who remains with him. Such is death on the road in
Egypt. I tell it as Hassan's slave told it to me, and somehow we all
cried again at the poor little boy rising from his dead father's side to
say, 'Come now sell me to dress my father for the tomb.' These strange
black pilgrims always interest me. Many take four years to Mecca and
home, and have children born to them on the road, and learn a few words
of Arabic.