Letters from Egypt by Lucy Duff Gordon (classic literature books txt) 📖

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.'


February 15, 1866: Mrs. Austin

_To Mrs. Austin_.

LUXOR,
_February_ 15, 1866.

DEAREST MUTTER,

I have only time for a short letter to say that the cold weather is over and that I continue to improve, not very fast, but still very sensibly.

My young Frenchman turns out to be a M. Brune _grand prix de Rome_, an architect, and is a very nice fellow indeed, and a thorough gentleman. His odd awkward manner proved to be mere vexation at finding himself quartered _nolens volens_ on a stranger, and a woman; but we have made great friends, and I have made him quite happy by telling him that he shall pay his share of the food. He was going to hurry off from shyness though he had begun a work here by which I fancy he hopes to get _Kudos_. I see he is poor and very properly proud. He goes out to the temple at sunrise, and returns to dinner at dark, and works well, and his drawings are very clever. In short, I am as much obliged to the French Consul for sending me such an intelligent man as I was vexed at first. An _homme serieux_ with an absorbing pursuit is always good company in the long run. Moreover M. Brune behaves like a perfect gentleman in every way. So _tout est pour le mieux_.

I am sorry to