The only effect of my exhortation was that she never said anything more of the matter to me, and steadily pursued her own humane purposes. I shall dismiss the subject for the present, and will, in the order of events, recur to it hereafter.
During my absence in Egypt, Lady Hester had been visited by M. Otto de Richter, an enterprising Russian, who was travelling through Syria: he afterwards died at or near Ephesus.
Mrs. Fry, Lady Hester’s maid, fell ill of an ague. On the 6th of November, there arrived at Meshmûshy two Bedouins of the tribe of Mahannah, sent by him with a letter to Lady Hester, which contained much complimentary language and inquiries after her welfare. Their real object was to get money, which the emir, always needy, was always using shifts to obtain. One of the Bedouins was named Abd el Rasák, and was a relation of Mahannah’s.
Abd-el-Rasák was an entertaining person, disposed to answer all my questions; and I now satisfied myself on some subjects touching the customs of the Bedouins, which, from my little knowledge of the language when in the Desert, I could not understand. Those which related to the victor and vanquished in battle seemed dictated by motives of humanity, to disarm the strong and ferocious, and give the prisoner a chance of freedom. They are comprehended under the word dukhýl, a term for which (from not having a clear notion of its meaning) I cannot find an equivalent in the English language.[82] It comprehends the pleas and rights of hospitality.
Sometimes a Bedouin loses all his camels by a marauding party; and, finding himself reduced to poverty, resolves to recover his possessions by dukhýl. For this purpose he quits his home, and seeks, unperceived, his enemy’s encampment. He secretes himself near the path by which the despoiler must pass. He bears with him a ball of twine (guzzle), which he spins as he stands. His enemy passes him, and he throws the ball of thread at him. If, as it unwinds, it hits him, the thrower is safe, and he then claims his property; but, if it misses, his enemy turns on him, and, unless he can escape, he loses his liberty or his life.
Again, if one Bedouin, under any circumstances of peril or supplication, can approach so near and unexpectedly to another, as to tie a knot in his keffyah (the silk handkerchief which generally envelops his head), there is no favour that he may not claim: likewise, if the captured can at any time enter into the tent of the captor, or eat of the same mess with him, he is entitled to his liberty. It may be said, with all these strange usages, that no Bedouin is secure for a moment in the enjoyment of his plunder, or in his right over his prisoner. But let it be recollected that he has many ways of immediately getting rid of the one and the other, so as never to be exposed by any possibility to the consequences of dukhýl; and likewise, that, under all circumstances, if any of the women or children, or if he himself, sees a prisoner seeking to obtain his ends in this manner, he has but to cry nefah, which destroys the intended grace.
The character of the Bedouins is not destitute of traits of great magnanimity. A certain Ali, in a dispute, killed Ershyd, an ancestor of Mahannah’s. Ershyd’s son, Fadl, was bound to revenge his death, and he steadily sought for an opportunity. The murderer, knowing how certainly his hour would come by Fadl’s hand, unless he could for ever shun him, absented himself in a distant tribe for many years. Tired, at length, of banishment, he deemed life not worth preserving on such terms, and resolved to present himself before his foe, and see if he could not prevail on his generosity so far as to obtain his forgiveness.
One night, Fadl was in the division of his tent set apart for the women, when he heard a footstep and a man cough. “Up, fellow!” he cried out to one of his slaves; “there is a guest in the tent; make some coffee.” He rose himself, went to him, and in the accustomed friendly terms of the Arabs welcomed him. It was very dark. The slave raked the ashes, and threw on some roots to make a blaze. Fadl looked at his guest, and stared, like one thunderstruck; for he knew Ali. “Ali!” said he. “It is even so,” replied the stranger, “and your sword is hanging over me.” Fadl was, for a moment, like one convulsed: but by degrees he calmed his emotions, and, when he found himself master of his expressions, he said, “Make yourself easy; you are no longer my father’s murderer, but my guest;” and he forgave him.
Fadl’s friends assembled round him; they said to him, “Can you admit your father’s murderer into your tent? Kill him, and revenge your wrongs.” But Fadl replied, “Shall I kill the man who judges so nobly of me?” He called his secretary, and bade him write an engagement to pay every year to Ali and his descendants 50 piasters, which continued to be done until the time that Abd-el-Rasák related the story.
The following story will show from what trivial beginnings their deadly feuds may sometimes arise. Sidad is a village between Hems and Carietain, on the road to Palmyra. The inhabitants are Christians, and therefore, generally speaking, considered as fair objects of oppression by the Bedouins, who often vex them greatly. Their insulated situation in the Desert thus obliges them to depend on themselves for protection, and hence they have a martial and independent character unknown to the Christians of towns.