THE FERTILIZING RIVERS OF EGYPT—LEAVE ALEXANDRIA—INCIDENTS EN
ROUTE—SHEPHEARD’S HOTEL—ANCIENT AND MODERN CAIRO—THE DONKEY
BOYS—ARAB PATIENTS—DANCING DERVISHES—THE HOUSE WHERE JOSEPH,
MARY, AND THE INFANT SAVIOUR LIVED IN OLD CAIRO—THE BAULAC
MUSEUM—THE PETRIFIED FOREST—MOKATTAM HILLS—TOMBS OF THE CALIPHS
AND CITADEL—CAIRO AT SUNSET.
In former times, before the introduction of railways, the traveller
to Cairo had to go by canal, hire a boat, servant; procure a carpet,
mattress, and bedding; lay in a store of provisions, and a variety of
minor articles that would fill a page or two to mention. Now we can go
comfortably by rail in a few hours, the distance being something like 120
miles, I think.
We pass, _en route_, Lake Mareotis and the Mohmoudieh Canal, cultivated
land near Alexandria, then a good deal uncultivated and desert; but as we
approach Cairo, we see large tracts of cultivated land, all accomplished
by irrigation, and I am told that as much as two or three crops in the
year can be obtained off these lands without very great labour. A hot
sun can always be depended on. The agricultural labourer has not to go
through the laborious work of ploughing and manuring as in England.
All he has to do is to scratch the ground, and put in the seed in the
fertilizing alluvium which has been brought down from the rich lands of
Meroe and portions of Abyssinia by the Athara river and its tributaries,
the Salaam, Augrab, and the greater stream, Tacazze or Settite. All these
rivers cut through a large area of deep soil, through which, in the
course of ages, they have excavated valleys of great depth, and in some
places of more than two miles in width. The contents of these enormous
cuttings have been delivered upon the low lands of Egypt at the period of
the inundations. The Athara is the greatest mud-carrier, then the Blue
Nile, which effects a junction with the White Nile at Khartoum.
The White Nile is of lacustrine origin, and conveys no mud, but an excess
of vegetable matter, suspended in the finest particles, and exhibiting
beneath the microscope minute globules of green matter, which have the
appearance of germs. When the two rivers meet at the Khartoum junction,
the water of the Blue Nile, which contains lime, appears to coagulate the
alluminous matter in that of the White Nile, which is then precipitated,
and forms a deposit; after which the true Nile, formed by a combination
of the two rivers, becomes wholesome, and remains comparatively clear,
until it meets the muddy Athara. The Sobat river is a most important
tributary, supposed to have its sources in the southern portion of the
Galla country.
For the foregoing information on these rivers I am indebted to an
article of Sir Samuel Baker’s, which I read with great interest in the
_Contemporary Review_; and I daresay many of my readers will thank me for
reproducing it.
After this slight digression, I will continue my journey to Cairo. At
the stations were numbers of women and children with refreshments for
the traveller in this land, where the sun always shines with a burning
heat; women with goolehs of water to sell; children naked, or nearly so,
with sugar-cane, melons, oranges, dates, fresh sugar-cane, figs, &c. Vast
numbers of these poor creatures were afflicted with ophthalmia, their
eyelids covered with flies, which they take no notice of whatever, many
of them blind, or partially so, blind beggars; one and all, whether they
can sell anything or not, continually uttering the cry of “Backsheesh,
backsheesh, howaga,” which comes faintly on my ears as the train leaves
the station. As we journey on there is much to be noticed. Now we pass
a camp of Bedouins in the desert; next a large grove of date-palms (the
owner of which has to pay a tax on every tree). Here the domestic buffalo
walks round and round a circle; he is working the sakia or water-wheel,
which winds up the water for irrigation. This is also taxed. Scattered
all over the country are innumerable shadoofs, another mode, and the most
ancient, of obtaining water; there the stately-looking camel strides
along, looking intensely unconcerned. Trotting past him on his little
donkey is an Arab in loose, white, flowing robes, and turbaned head. At
one time we pass squalid, wretched-looking mud-huts; anon Nubians, as
black as coal, working in the fields. We arrived at Cairo in the evening
about seven, and were at once driven off to the well-knewn Shepheard’s
Hotel. The _cuisine_ is all that could be desired, and every attention
is paid to insure the comfort of visitors. Mr. Grose, the manager, is a
particularly obliging and attentive gentleman.
Cairo (in Arabic, _Kahira_, which signifies _victorious_) is the capital
city of Egypt. It lies on the east bank of the Nile, in a sandy plain,
and contains old Cairo, Boulac (_the harbour_), and new Cairo, which are,
to a considerable degree, distinct from each other. The city itself,
separate from the gardens and plantations which surround it, is about
10 miles in circuit, has 31 gates, and 240 irregular unpaved streets,
which during the night are, or were, closed at the end of the quarter, to
prevent disturbances. The houses are for the most part built of brick,
with flat roofs, and the interior of many of them is very sumptuous.
The chief square of Cairo, El-Esbekiah, has a magnificent area, the
centre of which is laid out as a garden, and is annually inundated by
the overflowing of the Nile. It is surrounded by the finest palaces.
There is in it a monument to General Kleber. The inhabitants of the
city and suburbs, in 1871 353,851, are Arabs or Mahomedans, Coptish
Christians, Mamelukes, Greeks, Syrians, Armenians, Jews, and natives
of various countries of Europe. The castle, or citadel, situated on a
rock, containing Joseph’s Well, 276 feet deep, is the residence of the
Pasha. There are 80 public baths, 400 mosques, two Greek, 12 Coptish,
one Armenian, and one English church, 36 synagogues, and many silk,
camlet, tapestry, gunpowder, leather, linen, and cotton factories.
Among the mosques, which, though many of them are in ruins, form the
most conspicuous edifices of the city, the most remarkable is that of
Sultan Hassan, which is built of blocks of polished marble, obtained from
the outer casing of the pyramids, or pyramid rather, for, if my memory
serves me right, they are from the great pyramid of Cheops at Gizeh.
It has a beautifully ornamented porch, richly corniced walls, and many
tall minarets. Here is also a Mahomedan high school, a printing office
and 25,000 volumes. The largest convent of dervishes is at Cairo. It was
built in 1174. The traffic of Cairo is very great, since it is the centre
of communication between Europe, the Mediterranean Sea, Asia, and the
North of Africa, and is upon the railway from Alexandria to Suez. The
principal bazaars are the Ghoreah and Khan Khalel. Goods are disposed
of there by public auction, and the different bazaars exhibit different
kinds of merchandise. Ibrahim Pasha commenced a public library in 1830,
and in 1842 a European Society, called the Egyptian Literary Association,
was established. Mehemet Ali introduced schools for elementary education,
and the Church of England Missionary Society has two schools.
Cairo was founded by Jauhar, general of the Caliph Moez, in the year of
the Hegira 368, or A.D. 969, on the site of the Egyptian Babylon. Moez
afterwards made it his capital, which distinction it retained until the
overthrow of the Mamelukes by Sultan Selim in 1517. Saladin extended
and fortified it in 1176. It was repeatedly attacked by the Crusaders,
particularly by St. Louis in 1249. It was occupied by the French from
1798 to 1801, when it was recovered by the Turks with the assistance of
the English. A great fire occurred there in February, 1863; advantage was
taken of it to improve the town.
Our military occupation of Egypt (or shall I say that it is simply a
“measure of police?”), and events that are now transpiring there, are a
sufficient excuse (if one were required) for dealing shortly with the
ancient history of Cairo and the neighbourhood.
Soon after our arrival at Shepheard’s Hotel, when we had restored
ourselves to our personal comfort, our host provided us with a good
dinner, to which we did ample justice, and as the weather (although the
end of November) was like a summer’s evening in England, we enjoyed the
usual after-dinner cigarettes in the balcony, which is a very pleasant
lounge, even in the day time, as it is quite sheltered from the blazing
sun. I soon strolled off to bed with the idea of obtaining a good
night’s rest, so that I should awake refreshed and fit for a pilgrimage
to the various shrines of intense interest with which Cairo and its
neighbourhood abounds. I have visited and seen all that was interesting
in Rome, once the mistress of the world—Corinth, once the seat of
learning and the abode of a most polished people; Ephesus; have stood
on the ancient Acropolis of Athens, the plains of Troy, celebrated by
Virgil; explored Misenum, Pateoli, Baiæ, Pompeii, and Herculaneum, all
rich in historical associations; but compared with the remains of ancient
cities near Cairo these places were of yesterday’s growth, and were not
even thought of until ages after the glory and high civilization of the
people in the land of the Pharaohs had passed away. When Abraham entered
the Delta from Canaan with his countrymen, moving about in tents and
waggons, the Egyptians were living in cities enjoying all the advantages
of a settled government and established laws; had already cultivated
agriculture, parcelled out their valley into farms, and reverenced a
landmark as a god.
While Abraham knew of no property but herds and movables, they had
invented records and wrote their kings’ names and actions on the massive
temples which they raised. They had invented hieroglyphics and improved
them into syllabic writing, and almost into an alphabet. The history
of Greece _begins_ with the Trojan war, but _before_ the time of David
and _before_ the time of the Trojan war, the power and glory of Thebes
had already passed away. About 1,000 years B.C. Shishak the conqueror
of Rehoboam, son of Solomon, governed all Egypt; at his death it was
torn to pieces by civil wars. After a time the kings of Ethiopia reigned
in Thebes, and helped the Israelites to fight against their Assyrian
masters. This unsettled state of things lasted nearly 300 years, during
which, as the Prophet Isaiah foretold, “Egyptians fought against
Egyptians, brother against brother, city against city, and kingdom
against kingdom.” At last the city of Sais put an end to this state
of things and under the Sais kings Egypt enjoyed again a high degree
of prosperity. They were more despotic than the kings of Thebes, and
struggled with the Babylonians for the dominion of Judæa.
Probably many of my readers are aware that M. Ferdinand de Lesseps was
not the originator of a canal to the Red Sea, for Pharaoh Necho, one of
the Sais kings, began it from the Nile. His sailors, circumnavigated
Africa; he conquered Jerusalem, and when the Chaldees afterwards drove
back the Egyptian army the remnant of Judah, with the Prophet Jeremiah,
retreated into Egypt to seek a refuge with King Hophra.
523 B.C. the Persians became masters of Egypt, and behaved with great
tyranny. Cambyses plundered the tombs and temples, broke the statues,
and scourged the priests. They ruled for 200 years; then the Greeks,
B.C. 332, the Romans, B.C. 30, and on the division of the Roman Empire,
A.D. 337, Egypt fell to the lot of Constantinople. In A.D. 640, just 670
years after the Roman conquest, Egypt was conquered by the followers
of Mahomet, and now, in this year of grace, A.D. 1884, we are rather
upsetting the late order of things, but whether for good or evil time
will show.
In this age of progress, it may seem strange to say so, but Egyptian
landlords had much the same tastes 3,000 years ago as English landlords
have now. They were much addicted to field-sports. Not only does history
tell us so, but I have seen often in their sculptures and paintings that
this was so. Even on the tomb and chapel of King Phty at Sakkara, which
is said to be over 5,000 years old, I saw scenes of fowling, fishing,
hunting, running down the gazelle, spearing the hippopotamus, of coursing
and netting hares, of shooting wild cattle with arrows, and catching them
with the lasso. They had fish ponds, game preserves, and game laws, they
were fond of horses and dogs, kept good tables, gave morning and evening
parties, amused themselves with games of skill and chance, were proud of
their ancestors, built fine houses and furnished them handsomely, and
paid great attention to horticulture and arboriculture.
This certainly reads like contemporary history; but I will go further.
To use a well-known expression, “would you be surprised to hear” that
the tenants paid the same proportionate rent as the British farmer of
to-day? The average gross produce of a farm here was £8 an acre, average
rent about 32s. an acre—just one-fifth—the exact rent paid by the tenants
of Potiphar, Captain of the Guard, and of Potipherah, Priest of On,
Joseph’s father-in-law, and the same was paid to Pharaoh himself by
his tenants. At that time the whole acreage of the country was divided
into rectangular estates. One-third belonged to the king, two-thirds in
equal proportions to the priestly and military castes; and these were
cultivated by another order of men, who, for the use of the land, paid
rent—one-fifth of the gross produce—to the owner.
Altogether I spent nearly a fortnight in Cairo, and feeling a great
interest in the historical associations of this ancient place and the
neighbourhood, I resolved to see and learn as much as I could of them
during my short stay. In the morning, after early breakfast, I amused
myself for a short time by sitting in the shade of the extensive balcony
in front of Shepheard’s Hotel, which overlooks the street, and is
contiguous to it. The scene which presented itself to my gaze was truly
Oriental in character. Now I see a few camels stalking silently, slowly,
and sedately on, variously laden—some with baskets of large stones for
building purposes, others with long pieces of timber on each side, others
with skins of water and so on; then an Arab lady on donkey-back, riding
after the manner of men, and covered from head to foot in unsightly black
wrappers, having just a slit in them, through which can be seen a large
pair of lustrous dark eyes, and down the bridge of her nose are some
brass-looking ornaments, resembling as much as anything a row of thimbles
inserted in one another. A Turkish lady’s dress and yashmack (covering
worn over the face) is much more becoming, and her nose is not ornamented
by the addition of the thimble arrangement. The Turkish ladies wear (in
Constantinople) quite a thin white muslin yashmack over their faces. This
does not conceal very much of the features, which, as a rule, are very
beautiful. The Egyptian ladies wear a black yashmack, which conceals
all except the eyes. Report says they are ugly; if so, they are quite
right to do so. Next I see a carriage driven along preceded by two sais,
or runners, to clear the way, and it is surprising what a pace they go
at with a long, swinging trot. They are picturesquely and gorgeously
dressed, each bearing a long wand, and wearing a tarboosh (Turkish fez),
the long thick blue tassel of which floats gracefully over the shoulders,
and not at all unlike what some of the ladies in Athens wear, except that
their tassels are black. Then we see blind, or partially blind, beggars,
of whom there are vast numbers, Coptic and Mahomedan women and children,
girls with baskets of flowers and lovely roses, sweet-meat, fly-whisp,
water, and fruit-sellers, conjurers, snake-charmers, one and all
soliciting “backsheesh,” dusky, brown-skinned Arabs clad in loose-flowing
robes and white turbans, coal-black Nubians, Jews, Greeks, Armenians,
and Europeans of all shades of colour, religion, and politics. Here, in
fact, in this city of Saladin and of the “Arabian Nights Entertainments”
creations (which once seemed to be so fanciful and visionary) kindle into
life and reality as I look upon everything around me.
The apartments of an Arab house of the well-to-do are decorated with
Arabesque lattices, instead of glass windows. Inside are luxurious divans
heaped with soft cushions, instead of sofas and chairs; and instead
of the rattling of cabs, carts, and tramcars we hear the wild, shrill,
trilling note of the Arabian women indicating some occasion of joy or
sorrow, or hear the equally peculiar long drawn-out note of the muezzin
from some minaret calling the faithful to prayer.
Very near to our hotel, on the opposite side, are always to be found a
number of donkeys ready for hire, and very good little donkeys they are.
I can see the head, legs, and tail of a donkey; the remaining portion of
him is almost concealed by a great padded saddle, to which is attached a
very inconvenient pair of stirrups, into which you _may_ get the tips of
your toes, and sometimes a portion of the foot, but if the foot is not
small, or is so unfortunate as to possess a respectably-sized bunion,
you must be content if you can get the tips of your toes only in the
stirrup; this, again, slips down to the right or left, according as you
put more pressure on one side or the other. There are no girths, but one
long strap placed around the saddle and donkey very insecurely fixes the
former. If my reader has not been accustomed to circus-riding, I assure
him he would experience some difficulty at first in exhibiting his powers
of equitation before the Egyptian public under these circumstances, and
I have seen more than one individual come into ignominious contact with
mother earth; fortunately he has not far to go ere he humbles and tumbles
himself in the dust.
My first experience was this: as soon as I was seated and had rammed
the tip of my boot into the stirrup, the donkey-boy shouts, “Ha—ha.”
This warning note the donkey knows full well, and off he goes at a kind
of running trot, which is all right. Soon these ha-ha’s increase in
frequency, and ere long I can fancy myself a second Mezeppa. The imp
behind now accompanies his peculiar yell with a sharp prog of a pointed
stick, and the donkey takes a very pointed cognisance of it, for now
“He urges on his wild career.” In the wide, open streets this rapid
mode of progression has an exhilarating tendency, but in the narrow
streets of the bazaars unguarded human beings fly to the right of me,
unguarded human beings fly to the left of me, and imprecations, not
loud, but deep, in an unknown tongue, fall on my untutored ear as my
donkey indiscriminately cannons on to the unobservant. A few words about
these donkeys, and donkey-boys so called. Most of the latter are not
boys at all, but full-grown men, notwithstanding which they are always
called donkey-boys. These and their donkeys are quite an institution
in the East. The donkeys own all kinds of popular English names, and
of course (if the owner may be believed) are possessed of every good
quality. Most of the donkey-boys have picked up more or less English,
and in expatiating on the good qualities of their beasts are accustomed
to interlard their speech with the strong language of the West, and
you would be surprised to hear how promptly they will consign a fellow
donkey-boy to an inhospitable and much-warmer region than Cairo, and to
the care of a much blacker individual than themselves. The reader is here
called upon to exercise his or her imagination. I had myself derived
considerable amusement when watching an intending pilgrim securing one of
these donkeys. To be forewarned is to be forearmed; I flattered myself
that by making my selection sure before I got amongst them, my tactics
would be most successful, but as the sequel will show, I was grossly
deceived, having reckoned without my host, or hosts I ought to say.
First intending pilgrim. He descends the steps of Shepheard’s Hotel, and
moves towards the donkeys—a fatal movement. Instantly the air is thick
with donkeys and donkey-boys. The latter yell frantically a chorus of
praises concerning the useful quadrupeds, which are most adroitly and
with surprising dexterity brought one after the other under his very
nose, whilst the poor victim is jostled about in the most bewildering
and unpleasant manner. I have been both a spectator of and an actor in
this performance, and I can safely say the spectator derives by far the
greatest amusement.
I resolved to pay a visit to the bazaars and some of the mosques of note.
Having, as I thought, gained some experience by observing the misfortunes
of others, I executed a strategic movement which I fondly imagined would
turn out successful. I had, from a distance selected my donkey; then
cunningly walked up and down the pavement smoking a cigarette, apparently
with no object in view. Suddenly I darted on to the enemy, but alas! I
found myself in an absolute whirlwind of donkeys and their troublesome
two-legged attendants, who yelled into my ears and bumped me about until
I was quite unable to recognise the donkey I had selected. Beauties
were here represented, such as Mrs. Cornwallis West, and Mrs. Langtry;
national names, such as John Bull, and Yankee-doodle; mythical names,
such as Jim Crow and Billy Barlow. One donkey rejoiced in the name of
Dr. Tanner, another in that of Madame Rachel; others, again, had been
honoured with the names of statesmen, such as Prince Bismarck, John
Bright, Sir Stafford Northcote, Lord Randolph Churchill, Mr. Gladstone,
Mr. Parnell, Lord Beaconsfield, and others. “Dr. Tanner, he debbil to
go—he berry good donkey indeed, hakeem,” said the owner. However, I
declined him, as he was said to be a FAST one (excuse the joke), and as
this was entirely an Eastern question, I could not help thinking that
Lord Beaconsfield would certainly be the most likely to carry me safely
through. I therefore selected him, and had every reason to be satisfied
with him and his secretary, Lord Rowton _alias_ Ibrahim, the donkey-boy,
whom I employed on several subsequent occasions. He proved a very good
conductor, for he took me through the various bazaars, Tunis, Algiers,
Turkish, Persian, and Arab, &c., pointing out all places of note and
interest _en route_. Ibrahim soon got to know that I was a doctor, and so
indeed did all the attendant Arabs about the hotel. He, like hundreds of
his countrymen, suffered from ophthalmia, and when I was out with him he
said—
“Hakeem, what I do with my eyes? They very bad sometimes.”
“Oh!” said I, “you bring me a bottle to-morrow morning, and I will give
you something for them,” little thinking of the consequences. The lotion
did his eyes a great deal of good, and two days afterwards a great many
of his friends called, to all of whom I gave lotion. During my stay here,
and some months afterwards on returning from the Soudan, I was, every
morning, employed after breakfast at my medicine chest preparing eye
lotions for my Arab friends, invocations for the blessings of Allah being
my recompense. The poor fellows appeared to be grateful, and I dare say
it was genuine, not like a canting old Irish vagrant woman, who, if you
give a hunk of bread and cheese to, will exclaim—
“Thank yer honour kindly!” and as long as she is in hearing keep
muttering, “Och! sure now, there’s a kind jintleman for ye, me darlint.
Sure now he is intirely an illigant jintleman; only for him I would not
have a bite this morning, that’s sure for ye. May Heaven guide him and
the blessed Virgin protect him!” Then out of hearing it is, “Och! the
dirty spalpeen! What will I do wid this? May the curse of Cromwell light
on ye for a murthering Sassenach. What will I do honey? and I not had a
sup of gin this blessed day to keep the cowld out of me poor thrimbling
ould body!”
But I am digressing. One day I took a donkey ride to old Cairo, and with
others from the hotel visited the dancing dervishes, and the house said
to have been inhabited by our Saviour. Old Cairo is about two miles
distant from Grand Cairo. It was at old Cairo that the child Jesus,
with Joseph and Mary, lived for a time, having fled from the bloody,
persecuting Herod. The place said to have been His exile home is now a
small Greek church. The steps to the room are very much worn, but great
care is taken of every part of it; silver lamps, hung from the ceiling,
are burning night and day, and no one is allowed to enter without the
presence of a Greek priest. It certainly is not difficult to believe
that, considering the mild Syrian atmosphere, and the absence of rain,
the building may be much more than 1,800 years old.
The dancing dervishes next engaged our attention. When in Constantinople
I visited the dancing dervishes at Pera and the howling dervishes on
the other side of the Bosphorus at Scutari. The dancing dervishes wear
a dress of greyish material, which reaches a little below the knee,
and is confined by a girdle round the waist. When they spin round like
Teetotums this looks like an open umbrella. The head is covered by a
curious-looking, tall, conical felt hat without any brim.
The word itself, Dervish, or Dervise, is of Persian origin, and signifies
poor. It denotes the same amongst Mahomedans as _monk_ with Christians.
The observance of strict forms, fasting and acts of piety, give them a
character of sanctity amongst the people. They live partly together in
monasteries partly alone, and from their number the Imams (priests)
are generally chosen. Throughout Turkey they are freely received, even
at the tables of persons of the highest rank. Among the Hindus they
are called _fakirs_. There are throughout Asia multitudes of these
devotees, monastic and ascetic, not only among the Mahomedans, but
also among the followers of Brahma. There are no less than thirty-two
religious orders now existing in the Turkish Empire, many of whom are
scarcely known beyond its limits; but others, such as the Nakshbendies
and Mevlevies, are common in Persia and India. All these communities are
properly stationary, though some of them send out a portion of their
members to collect alms. The regularly itinerant dervishes in Turkey
are all foreigners or outcasts, who, though expelled from their orders
for misconduct, find their profession too agreeable and profitable to
be abandoned, and therefore set up for themselves, and, under colour of
sanctity, fleece honest people. All these orders, except the Nakshbendies
are considered as living in seclusion from the world; but that order
is composed entirely of persons who, without quitting the world, bind
themselves to a strict observance of certain forms of devotion, and
meet once a week to perform them together. Each order has its peculiar
statutes, exercises, and habits. Most of them impose a novitiate, the
length of which depends upon the spiritual state of the candidate, who
is sometimes kept for a whole year under this kind of discipline. In
the order of the Mevlevies, the novice perfects his spiritual knowledge
in the kitchen of the convent. The numerous orders of dervishes are all
divided into two great classes, the dancing and the howling dervishes.
The former are the Mevlevies, and are held in much higher estimation
than the other class, and are the wealthiest of all the religious bodies
of the Turkish Empire. Their principal monastery is at Konieh, but they
have another at Pera, a suburb of Constantinople, where they may be
seen engaged in their exercises every Wednesday and Thursday. These are
performed in a round chamber, in the centre of which sits their chief
or sheik, the hem of whose garment each dervish reverently kisses on
entering the chamber, after which they go and range themselves round
the chamber with their legs tucked under them. When all the dervishes
have entered and saluted the sheik, they all rise together and go in
procession three times round the room, the sheik at their head. Each time
they do obeisance to the empty seat of the sheik on coming to a certain
part of the room. The procession ended, the sheik again takes his place
in the centre, and all the others begin dancing round him, turning on
themselves at the same time that they move round the room. The arms are
extended, the palm of the right turned upward and the palm of the left
downward, to indicate that what they receive from heaven with the right
they give away to the poor with the left, while sounds of music are
heard from a neighbouring gallery. The movement at first is slow, but
as the dervishes become excited they become more animated, and revolve
so quickly that they look like tops spinning round; at last they sink
exhausted on the floor. After a while they renew their exertions, and
repeat it several times. The whole is concluded by a sermon.
The howling dervishes do not confine themselves in their exercises to
the dancing just described. They accompany them with loud vociferations
of the name of Allah, and violent contortions of the body such as are
seen in persons seized with epileptic fits. And even these extravagances
are not so bad as those which were formerly practised, when the
dervishes, after working themselves into a frenzy, used to cut and
torture themselves in various ways with apparent delight. The sheiks
of all orders have the credit of possessing miraculous powers. The
interpretation of dreams, the cure of diseases, and the removal of
barrenness, are the gifts for which the dervishes are most in repute. Had
I to live in such a hot climate as Cairo, I should feel thankful that our
religion does not necessitate such violent bodily exertion as that which
these dervishes indulge in. The road to old Cairo was very, very dusty,
and the weather excessively hot, as it always is in the day time. We left
the dancing dervishes after remaining about half-an-hour, and rode back
to our hotel in the afternoon too late for any further explorations that
day. On the following day I spent some hours in a very enjoyable and also
instructive manner, namely in inspecting the priceless articles in the
Baulac Museum. This museum, I suppose, contains some of the most ancient
things in this world, and I regret very much that I could not devote a
week to inspecting the contents of it instead of a few hours. I should
have seen the treasures contained here, and known very little concerning
them (as there was no catalogue), had I not been so fortunate as to get
into conversation with Brusch Bey, the curator, a most intelligent and
obliging gentleman, whose heart is enthusiastically in his work. He was
kind enough to spend about two or three hours with me and enlighten me
on very many things which would have been a sealed book to me but for
him. There lay before us one grand discovery of 32 kings and queens,
who had ruled Egypt in the dim distant ages long ago. The gilding on the
inner coffins was as perfect and untarnished as it was the week they
were executed, although thousands of years have rolled by since the
handy craftsman was engaged on them. They were covered with information
that none but an Egyptologist could decipher. In this museum was pointed
out to me a picture said to be the most ancient in the world, it was a
painted picture of Egyptian geese, as well done, I should imagine, as
any ordinary painter of the present day could do it. There were bronzes
and polished marble statuary as perfect in appearance as when they left
the workmen’s hands, and, as far as I could judge, as well finished as
they would be by workmen of the present day, although 2,000 or 3,000
years old. An ingenious and strong little cabinet engaged my attention
some time; the doors of hard wood were well carved and the joints as
exquisitely dove-tailed in as any man of the present day could make
them. In a glass case I saw basket-work, a chair, rope, twine, seals,
rings, javelins, slings, food and seeds as they were found in an ancient
tomb, the mason’s mallet cut out of a solid piece of wood, precisely the
same shape and size as those in use here at the present time, jewellery
well-finished and solid-looking, and many other things too numerous to
mention. On carefully examining this valuable and interesting collection,
some of which were 3,000, 4,000, or 5,000 years old, I could not help
thinking that they served well to illustrate the highly civilized
condition of the people at so remote a period.
To give details of all the interesting things in this museum would occupy
too much time to the exclusion of other matter, but there are two things
that call for notice on account of their very great antiquity. One is a
wooden statue, which has been carved out of a solid block of very hard
wood, and is that of a man about 5ft. 7in. in height. As one stands in
front of that wooden statue gazing for a short time, he almost appears
to be endowed with a soul and the power of speech, so excellent is the
execution of the figure, and so expressive the face; no one can doubt
for a moment that he was the creation of a high civilization. It was
found in a tomb at Sakhara and belongs to one of the early dynasties
of the old primæval monarchy, and is absolutely untarnished by the
thousands of years it has been reposing in that tomb; there is actually
no sign of decay. The antiquity of that statue astonishes me, and I
dare say it will my readers. Brusch Bey told me that it was supposed
to be 5,400 years old, and that probably it was older than that. The
other statue, that of Chephren, the builder of the second Pyramid, with
his name inscribed upon it, is in Diorite, one of the hardest kind of
stones, carefully executed and beautifully polished. These Egyptians were
evidently people of considerable forethought, and when they wanted their
names and deeds to live long after them engraved on tablets of stone,
they selected the most durable they could, and it is more than probable
that had they contemplated building such houses of Parliament as we have
built in London, they would have selected a hard, not a soft stone, that
continually requires patching up. Well, the features of Chephren’s statue
are uninjured, and Brusch Bey and I gazed on them just as they were seen
by Chephren and his court 5,000 years ago. It was discovered by Mariette
Bey, at the bottom of a well, which supplied the water used for sacred
purposes in the sepulchral temple attached to Chephren’s Pyramid. It was
no doubt originally erected in the temple, and was probably thrown into
the well by the barbarous Hyksos or iconoclastic Persians.
During the late military operations, or “police measures,” grave
apprehensions for the safety of the Baulac Museum arose, but fortunately
it escaped the violence of the mob. The greater part of one day was
occupied by a visit with my familiar Ibrahim to the mosques of note,
the citadel, tombs of the Caliphs and Mamelukes. Another day I got a
companion from the hotel to accompany me to the petrified forest, some
miles out in the desert. It covers an area of about 15 miles. All this
space is pretty thickly strewed over with what appears to be trunks and
branches of trees. I took hold of what appeared exactly like the wooden
branch of a tree, and so it had once been, but for ages it had lain here,
a solid piece of very hard stone. The place is an absolutely desolate one
in the desert, with not a sign of vegetation in sight. Whether these had
been washed here during the flood or had once grown in the neighbourhood
or not, or how they came there, I never could ascertain, although I have
sought for information on the subject in all directions. No one seems to
be able to tell me anything about the origin of this petrified forest,
and I have not hitherto found a book containing any allusion to it. We
returned to Cairo by the Mokhottam hills behind the citadel somewhat late
in the afternoon, consequently had to urge on our donkeys so that we
should see Cairo by sunset. We were here just in time to do so, as there
is scarcely any twilight in the East; the transition from day to night
does not occupy very many minutes. The picturesque panorama that opened
out to our view well repaid us for our trouble. There before and beneath
us lay Cairo with its innumerable mosques and minarets, the Nile with the
peculiar Nile boats called dahabeahs floating peacefully on its surface.
Here and there the stately camel strides silently on, veiled women and
turbaned Arabs in loose flowing robes, groves of palm trees, while nearer
to us we see the half-ruined tombs of the Caliphs and Mamelukes, the
citadel and the beautiful mosque of Mehemet Ali full of carved columns of
alabaster. To the late burning heat which we encountered in the desert
succeeds a soft, balmy, dry air, and the beautiful and varied hues of
the setting sun is reflected from the glittering mosques and minarets,
rocks and sands, presenting a picture which will not soon fade from my
memory, and which requires the poetry, eloquence, and pen of a Byron to
adequately describe. In striking contrast to the beautiful scene we had
just enjoyed was the wretched-looking houses of the Arabs, the squalor,
dirt and miserable pathways on the hill-side which we encountered
immediately afterwards as we pursued our homeward journey.