Passivity and meek endurance seem to be the characteristics of this inoffensive people， so graceful in their rags， so mysterious in their age-old immobility， and so ready to accept with an equal indifference whatever yoke may come. Poor， beautiful people， with muscles that never grow tired！ Whose men in olden times moved the great stones of the temples， and knew no burden that was too heavy； whose women， with their slender， pale-tawny arms and delicate small hands， surpass by far in strength the burliest of our peasants！ Poor beautiful race of bronze！ No doubt it was too precocious and put forth too soon its astonishing flower--in times when the other peoples of the earth were till vegetating in obscurity； no doubt its present resignation comes from lassitude， after so many centuries of effort and expansive power.
Once it monopolised the glory of the world， and here it is now--for some two thousand years--fallen into a kind of tired sleep， which has left it an easy prey alike to the conquerors of yesterday and to the exploiters of to-day.
Another trait which， side by side with their patience， prevails amongst these true-blooded Egyptians of the countryside is their attachment to the soil， to the soil which nourishes them， and in which later on they will sleep. To possess land， to forestall at any price the smallest portion of it， to reclaim patches of it from the shifting desert， that is the sole aim， or almost so， which the fellahs pursue in this world： to possess a field， however small it may be--a field， moreover， which they till with the oldest plough invented by man， the exact design of which may be seen carved on the walls of the tombs at Memphis.
And this same people， which was the first of any to conceive magnificence， whose gods and kings were formerly surrounded with an over-powering splendour， contrives， to live to-day， pell-mell with its sheep and goats， in humble， low-roofed cabins made out of sunbaked mud！ The Egyptian villages are all of the neutral colour of the soil； a little white chalk brightens， perhaps， the minaret or cupola of the mosque； but except for that little refuge， whither folk come to pray each evening--for no one here would retire for the night without having first prostrated himself before the majesty of Allah--everything is of a mournful grey. Even the costumes of the people are dull-coloured and wretched-looking. It is an East grown poor and old， although the sky remains as wonderful as ever.
But all this past grandeur has left its imprint on the fellahs. They have a refinement of appearance and manner， all unknown amongst the majority of the good people of our villages. And those amongst them who by good fortune become prosperous have forthwith a kind of distinction， and seem to know， as if by birth， how to dispense the gracious hospitality of an aristocrat. The hospitality of even the humblest preserves something of courtesy and ease， which tells of breed. I remember those clear evenings when， after the peaceful navigation of the day， I used to stop and draw up my dahabiya to the bank of the river. (I speak now of out-of-the-way places--free as yet from the canker of the tourist element--such as I habitually chose.)
It was in the twilight at the hour when the stars began to shine out from the golden-green sky. As soon as I put foot upon the shore， and my arrival was signalled by the barking of the watchdogs， the chief of the nearest hamlet always came to meet me. A dignified man， in a long robe of striped silk or modest blue cotton， he accosted me with formulae of welcome quite in the grand manner； insisted on my following him to his house of dried mud； and there， escorting me， after the exchange of further compliments， to the place of honour on the poor divan of his lodging， forced me to accept the traditional cup of Arab coffee.
*****
To wake these fellahs from their strange sleep， to open their eyes at last， and to transform them by a modern education--that is the task which nowadays a select band of Egyptian patriots is desirous of attempting. Not long ago， such an endeavour would have seemed to me a crime； for these stubborn peasants were living under conditions of the least suffering， rich in faith and poor in desire. But to-day they are suffering from an invasion more undermining， more dangerous than that of the conquerors who killed by sword and fire. The Occidentals are there， everywhere， amongst them， profiting by their meek passivity to turn them into slaves for their business and their pleasure. The work of degradation of these ******tons is so easy： men bring them new desires， new greeds， new needs，--and rob them of their prayers.
Yet， it is time perhaps to wake them from their sleep of more than twenty centuries， to put them on their guard， and to see what yet they may be capable of， what surprises they may have in store for us after that long lethargy， which must surely have been restorative. In any case the human species， in course of deterioration through overstrain， would find amongst these singers of the shaduf and these labourers with the antiquated plough， brains unclouded by alcohol， and a whole reserve of tranquil beauty， of well-balanced physique， of vigour untainted by bestiality.
第一
We are ****** our way through the fields of Abydos in the dazzling splendour of the forenoon， having come， like so many pilgrims of old， from the banks of the Nile to visit the sanctuaries of Osiris， which lie beyond the green plains， on the edge of the desert.
It is a journey of some ten miles or so， under a clear sky and a burning sun. We pass through fields of corn and lucerne， whose wonderful green is piqued with little flowers， such as may be seen in our climate. Hundreds of little birds sing to us distractedly of the joy of life； the sun shines radiantly， magnificently； the impetuous corn is already in the ear； it might be some gay pageant of our days of May. One forgets that it is February， that we are still in the winter--the luminous winter of Egypt.
