Letters from Egypt | Page 8

frankness of heart and desire to be of service to
her fellow-creatures without a thought of self or a taint of vanity in her
intercourse with them. Not for lack of flattery or of real enthusiastic
gratitude on their part. It is known that when at Thebes, on more than
one of her journeys, the women raised the "cry of joy" as she passed
along, and the people flung branches and raiment on her path, as in the
old Biblical descriptions of Eastern life. The source of her popularity
was in the liberal kindliness of spirit with which she acted on all
occasions, more especially towards those she considered the victims of
bad government and oppressive laws. She says of herself: "one's pity

becomes a perfect passion when one sits among the people as I do, and
sees all they endure. Least of all can I forgive those among Europeans
and Christians who can help to break these bruised reeds." And again:
"Would that I could excite the interest of my country in their suffering!
Some conception of the value of public opinion in England has
penetrated even here." Sympathizing, helping, doctoring their sick,
teaching their children, learning the language, Lady Duff Gordon lived
in Egypt, and in Egypt she has died, leaving a memory of her greatness
and goodness such as no other European woman ever acquired in that
country. It is touching to trace her lingering hopes of life and amended
health in her letters to her husband and her mother, and to see how, as
they faded out, there rose over those hopes the grander light of fortitude
and submission to the will of God.
'Gradually--how gradually the limits of this notice forbid us to
follow--hope departs, and she begins bravely to face the inevitable
destiny. And then comes the end of all, the strong yet tender
announcement of her own conviction that there would be no more
meetings, but a grave opened to receive her in a foreign land.
'"Dearest Alick,
'"Do not think of coming here, as you dread the climate. Indeed, it
would be almost too painful to me to part from you again; and as it is, I
can wait patiently for the end, among people who are kind and loving
enough to be comfortable without too much feeling of the pain of
parting. The leaving Luxor was rather a distressing scene, as they did
not think to see me again. The kindness of all the people was really
touching, from the Cadi, who made ready my tomb among his own
family, to the poorest fellaheen."
'Such are the tranquil and kindly words with which she prefaces her
death. Those who remember her in her youth and beauty, before disease
rather than time had altered the pale heroic face, and bowed the slight,
stately figure, may well perceive some strange analogy between soul
and body in the Spartan firmness which enabled her to pen that last
farewell so quietly.

'But to the last her thought was for others, and for the services she
could render. In this very letter, written, as it were, on the verge of the
tomb, she speaks with gratitude and gladness of the advancement of her
favourite attendant, Omar. This Omar had been recommended to her by
the janissary of the American Consul-General, and so far back as 1862,
when in Alexandria, she mentions having engaged him, and his hopeful
prophecy of the good her Nile life is to do her. "My cough is bad; but
Omar says I shall lose it and 'eat plenty' as soon as I see a crocodile."
'Omar "could not leave her," and he had his reward. One of the last
events in the life of this gifted and liberal-minded Englishwoman was
the visit to her dahabeeyeh, or Nile boat, of the Prince and Princess of
Wales. Then poor Omar's simple and faithful service to his dying
mistress was rewarded in a way he could scarcely have dreamt; and
Lady Duff Gordon thus relates the incident: "Omar sends you his
heartfelt thanks, and begs the boat may remain registered at the
Consulate in your name, as a protection, for his use and benefit. The
Prince has appointed him his dragoman, but he is sad enough, poor
fellow! all his prosperity does not console him for the loss of "the
mother he found in the world." Mahomed at Luxor wept bitterly, and
said: "Poor I--poor my children--poor all the people!" and kissed my
hand passionately; and the people at Esneh asked leave to touch me
"for a blessing," and everyone sent delicate bread and their best butter
and vegetables and lambs. They are kinder than ever now that I can no
longer be of any use to them. If I live till September I will go up