Notes from Egypt

Dearest Alick,

I have just received your letter of March 3 with one from Janet, which shows of how little moment the extermination of four villages is in this country, for she does not allude to our revolt and evidently has not heard of it.

In my last letter to Mutter I told how one Achmet et Tayib, a mad darweesh had raised a riot at Gau below Keneh and how a boat had been robbed and how we were all rather looking out for a razzia and determined to fight Achmet et Tayib and his followers. Then we called them harámee (wicked ones) and were rather blood-thirstily disposed towards them and resolved to keep order and protect our property. But now we say nas messakeen (poor people) and whisper to each other that God will not forget what the Pasha has done. The truth of course we shall never know. But I do know that one Pasha said he had hanged five hundred, and another that he had sent three hundred to Fazoghlou (comme qui dirait Cayenne) and all for the robbery of one Greek boat in which only the steersman was killed. I cannot make out that anything was done by the ‘insurgents’ beyond going out into the desert to listen to the darweesh’s nonsense, and ‘see a reed shaken by the wind;’ the party that robbed the boat was, I am told, about forty strong. But the most horrid stories are current among the people of the atrocities committed on the wretched villagers by the soldiers. Not many were shot, they say, and they attempted no resistance, but the women and girls were outraged and murdered and the men hanged and the steamers loaded with plunder. The worst is that every one believes that the Europeans aid and abet, and all declare that the Copts were spared to please the Frangees. Mind I am not telling you facts only what the people are saying—in order to show you their feelings. One most respectable young man sat before me on the floor the other day and told me what he had heard from those who had come up the river. Horrible tales of the stench of the bodies which are left unburied by the Pasha’s order—of women big with child ripped open, etc., etc. ‘Thou knowest oh! our Lady, that we are people of peace in this place, and behold now if one madman should come and a few idle fellows go out to the mountain (desert) with him, Effendina will send his soldiers to destroy the place and spoil our poor little girls and hang us—is that right, oh Lady and Achmet el-Berberi saw Europeans with hats in the steamer with Effendina and the soldiers. Truly in all the world none are miserable like us Arabs. The Turks beat us, and the Europeans hate us and say quite right. By God, we had better lay down our heads in the dust (die) and let the strangers take our land and grow cotton for themselves. As for me I am tired of this miserable life and of fearing for my poor little girls.’

Mahommed was really eloquent, and when he threw his melayeh over his face and sobbed, I am not ashamed to say that I cried too. I know very well that Mahommed was not quite wrong in what he says of the Europeans. I know the cruel old platitudes about governing Orientals by fear which the English pick up like mocking birds from the Turks. I know all about ‘the stick’ and ‘vigour’ and all that—but—‘I sit among the people’ and I know too that Mohammed feels just as John Smith or Tom Brown would feel in his place, and that men who were very savage against the rioters in the beginning, are now almost in a humour to rise against the Turks themselves just exactly as free-born Britons might be. There are even men of the class who have something to lose who express their disgust very freely.

I saw the steamer pass up to Fazoghlou but the prisoners were all below. The Sheykh of the Abab’deh here has had to send a party of his men to guard them through the desert. Altogether this year is miserable in Egypt. I have not once heard the zaghareet. Every one is anxious and depressed, and I fear hungry, the land is parched from the low Nile, the heat has set in six weeks earlier than usual, the animals are scarecrows for want of food, and now these horrid stories of bloodshed and cruelty and robbery (for the Pasha takes the lands of these villages for his own) have saddened every face. I think Hajjee Ali is right and that there will be more disturbances. If there are they will be caused by the cruelty and oppression at Gau and the three neighbouring villages. From Salamieh, two miles above Luxor, every man woman and child in any degree kin to Achmet et-Tayib has been taken in chains to Keneh and no one here expects to see one of them return alive. Some are remarkably good men, I hear, and I have heard men say ‘if Hajjee Sultan is killed and all his family we will never do a good action any more, for we see it is of no use.’

There was a talk among the three or four Europeans here at the beginning of the rumours of a revolt of organizing a defence among Christians only. Conceive what a silly and gratuitous provocation! There was no religion in the business at all and of course the proper person to organize defence was the Maōhn, and he and Mustapha and others had planned using my house as a castle and defending that in case of a visit from the rioters. I have no doubt the true cause of the row is the usual one—hunger—the high price of food. It was like our Swing, or bread riots, nothing more and a very feeble affair too. It is curious to see the travellers’ gay dahabiehs just as usual and the Europeans as far removed from all care or knowledge of the distresses as if they were at home. When I go and sit with the English I feel almost as if they were foreigners to me too, so completely am I now Dint el-Beled (daughter of the country) here.

I dined three days running with the Kevenbrincks and one day after dinner we sent for a lot of Arab Sheykhs to come for coffee—the two Abab’deh and a relation of theirs from Khartoum , the Sheykh of Karnak, one Mohammed a rich fellah, and we were joined by the A’gha of Halim Pasha’s Hareem, and an ugly beast he is. The little Baroness won all hearts. She is a regular vif argent or as we say Efreeteh and to see the dark faces glittering with merry smiles as they watched her was very droll. I never saw a human being so thoroughly amused as the black Sheykh from the Soudan. Next day we dined at the Austrian agent’s and the Baroness at last made the Maōhn dance a polka with her while the agent played the guitar. There were a lot of Copts about who nearly died of laughing and indeed so did I. Next day we had a capital dinner at Mustapha’s, and the two Abab’deh Sheykhs, the Sheykh of Karnak, the Maōhn and Sheykh Yussuf dined with us. The Sheykh of Karnak gave a grand performance of eating like a Bedawee. I have heard you talk of tripas elasticas in Spain but Wallahi! anything like the performance of Sheykh Abdallah none but an eyewitness could believe. How he plucked off the lamb’s head and handed it to me in token of the highest respect, and how the bones cracked beneath his fingers—how huge handfuls of everything were chucked right down his throat all scorching hot. I encouraged him of course, quoting the popular song about ‘doing deeds that Antar did not’ and we all grew quite uproarious. When Sheykh Abdallah asked for drink, I cried ‘bring the ballaree (the big jar the women fetch water in) for the Sheykh,’ and Sheykh Yussuf compared him to Samson and to Og, while I more profanely told how Antar broke the bones and threw them about. The little Baroness was delighted and only expressed herself hurt that no one had crammed anything into her mouth. I told the Maōhn her disappointment which caused more laughter as such a custom is unknown here, but he of course made no end of sweet speeches to her. After dinner she showed the Arabs how ladies curtsey to the Queen in England, and the Abab’deh acted the ceremonial of presentation at the court of Darfour, where you have to rub your nose in the dust at the King’s feet. Then we went out with lanterns and torches and the Abab’deh did the sword dance for us. Two men with round shields and great straight swords do it. One dances a pas seul of challenge and defiance with prodigious leaps and pirouettes and Hah! Hahs! Then the other comes and a grand fight ensues. When the handsome Sheykh Hassan (whom you saw in Cairo) bounded out it really was heroic. All his attitudes were alike grand and graceful. They all wanted Sheykh Yussuf to play el-Neboot (single stick) and said he was the best man here at it, but his sister was not long dead and he could not. Hassan looks forward to Maurice’s coming here to teach him ‘the fighting of the English.’ How Maurice would pound him!

On the fourth night I went to tea in Lord Hopetoun’s boat and their sailors gave a grand fantasia excessively like a Christmas pantomime. One danced like a woman, and there was a regular pantaloon only ‘more so,’ and a sort of clown in sheepskin and a pink mask who was duly tumbled about, and who distributed claques freely with a huge wooden spoon. It was very good fun indeed, though it was quite as well that the ladies did not understand the dialogue, or that part of the dance which made the Maōhn roar with laughter. The Hopetouns had two handsome boats and were living like in May Fair. I am so used now to our poor shabby life that it makes quite a strange impression on me to see all that splendour—splendour which a year or two ago I should not even have remarked—and thus out of ‘my inward consciousness’ (as Germans say), many of the peculiarities and faults of the people of Egypt are explained to me and accounted for.

April 2.—It is so dreadfully hot and dusty that I shall rather hasten my departure if I can. The winds seem to have begun, and as all the land which last year was green is now desert and dry the dust is four times as bad. If I hear that Ross has bought and sent up a dahabieh I will wait for that, if not I will go in three weeks if I can.