George Walker At Suez | Page 7

I knew that my chances might be better if I did
not show myself over eager for companionship at the first moment. The
door, however, was soon opened, and I saw that at least in one respect I

was destined to be disappointed. The strangers who were entering the
room were not Christians--if I might judge by the nature of the
garments in which they were clothed.
The door had been opened by the man in an old dressing-gown and
slippers, whom I had seen sitting inside the gate. He was the Arab
porter of the hotel, and as he marshalled the new visitors into the room,
I heard him pronounce some sound similar to my own name, and
perceived that he pointed me out to the most prominent person of those
who then entered the apartment. This was a stout, portly man, dressed
from head to foot in Eastern costume of the brightest colours. He wore,
not only the red fez cap which everybody wears-- even I had
accustomed myself to a fez cap--but a turban round it, of which the
voluminous folds were snowy white. His face was fat, but not the less
grave, and the lower part of it was enveloped in a magnificent beard,
which projected round it on all sides, and touched his breast as he
walked. It was a grand grizzled beard, and I acknowledged at a moment
that it added a singular dignity to the appearance of the stranger. His
flowing robe was of bright colours, and the under garment which fitted
close round his breast, and then descended, becoming beneath his sash
a pair of the loosest pantaloons--I might, perhaps, better describe them
as bags--was a rich tawny silk. These loose pantaloons were tied close
round his legs, above the ankle, and over a pair of scrupulously white
stockings, and on his feet he wore a pair of yellow slippers. It was
manifest to me at a glance that the Arab gentleman was got up in his
best raiment, and that no expense had been spared on his suit.
And here I cannot but make a remark on the personal bearing of these
Arabs. Whether they be Arabs or Turks, or Copts, it is always the same.
They are a mean, false, cowardly race, I believe. They will bear blows,
and respect the man who gives them. Fear goes further with them than
love, and between man and man they understand nothing of
forbearance. He who does not exact from them all that he can exact is
simply a fool in their estimation, to the extent of that which he loses. In
all this, they are immeasurably inferior to us who have had Christian
teaching. But in one thing they beat us. They always know how to
maintain their personal dignity.
Look at my friend and partner Judkins, as he stands with his hands in
his trousers pockets at the door of our house in Friday Street. What can

be meaner than his appearance? He is a stumpy, short, podgy man; but
then so also was my Arab friend at Suez. Judkins is always dressed
from head to foot in a decent black cloth suit; his coat is ever a dress
coat, and is neither old nor shabby. On his head he carries a shining
new silk hat, such as fashion in our metropolis demands. Judkins is
rather a dandy than otherwise, piquing himself somewhat on his
apparel. And yet how mean is his appearance, as compared with the
appearance of that Arab;--how mean also is his gait, how ignoble his
step! Judkins could buy that Arab out four times over, and hardly feel
the loss; and yet were they to enter a room together, Judkins would
know and acknowledge by his look that he was the inferior personage.
Not the less, should a personal quarrel arise between them, would
Judkins punch the Arab's head; ay, and reduce him to utter ignominy at
his feet.
Judkins would break his heart in despair rather than not return a blow;
whereas the Arab would put up with any indignity of that sort.
Nevertheless Judkins is altogether deficient in personal dignity. I often
thought, as the hours hung in Egypt, whether it might not be practicable
to introduce an oriental costume in Friday Street.
At this moment, as the Arab gentleman entered the cavernous coffee-
room, I felt that I was greatly the inferior personage. He was followed
by four or five others, dressed somewhat as himself; though by no
means in such magnificent colours, and by one gentleman in a coat and
trousers. The gentleman in the coat and trousers came last, and I could
see that he was one of the least of the number. As for myself, I felt
almost overawed by the dignity