MY RECEPTION IN BERBER.
A Wedding—My Reception by the Military Governor—Achmet—The
Bridegroom—A Guard—I am an American Bey—Kèff—The Bey’s
Visit—The Civil Governor—About the Navy—The Priest’s
Visit—Riding in State—The Dongolese Stallion—A Merchant’s
House—The Town—Dinner at the Governor’s—The Pains of Royalty—A
Salute to the American Flag—Departure.
I was sitting at my tent-door at dusk, after a luxurious dinner of fowls
and melons, when we suddenly heard a great sound of drums and Arab
singing, with repeated discharges of musketry. The people told us that
a marriage was being celebrated, and proposed that I should go and take
part in the festivities. I therefore partly resumed my Frank dress, and
told Achmet that he must no longer represent me as a Turk, since, in the
conquered countries of Soudân the ruling race is even more unpopular than
the Franks. “Well, master,” said he; “but I must at least make you an
American Bey, because some rank is necessary in these countries.” He took
a lantern, and we set out, in the direction of the noises.
As we passed the mosque, a priest informed us that the wedding was at
the Governor’s house, and that the bridegroom was the son of a former
Governor’s _wekeel_, or deputy. The drums guided us to a spacious
court-yard, at the door of which stood guards in festive dresses. The
court was lighted by a large open brazier of charcoal, fastened on the
end of a high pole, and by various colored lanterns. Long benches were
ranged across the central space, facing the Governor’s mansion, and upon
them sat many of the inhabitants of the town, listening to the music.
The Arnaout soldiers, in their picturesque dresses, were squatted around
the walls, their yataghans and long guns gleaming in the moonlight. The
musicians sat on a raised platform, beside the steps leading to the
door. There were half a dozen drums, some Arab flutes, and a chorus of
strong-lunged singers, who chanted a wild, barbaric epithalamium, in
perfect time and accord. The people all saluted us respectfully, and
invited us to enter. The Albanian guards ushered us into a lofty room,
roofed with palm-logs, which were carefully chosen for their size and
straightness. A broad, cushioned divan ran around two sides of the
apartment. Here sat the military Governor, with his principal officers,
while richly-dressed soldiers stood in waiting. An immense glass lantern
gave light to this striking picture.
The Governor, who was called Yagheshir Bey (although he held the lower
rank of a _Sanjak_), was an Albanian, and commander of the Egyptian
troops in Berber and Shendy. He received me with great kindness, and
made room for me beside him on the divan. He was a tall, stately man,
about fifty years of age; his face was remarkably handsome, with a mild,
benevolent expression, and he had the manners of a finished gentleman. On
my left hand was one of his officers, also a tall, fur-capped Albanian.
I presented both of the dignitaries with cigars, for which they seemed
to have a great relish. Coffee soon appeared, served by negro slaves,
in rich blue dresses, and then the Bey’s shebook, with a mouth-piece
studded with diamonds, was filled for me. The slaves presently returned,
with large glass cups filled with delicious sherbet, which they offered
upon gold-fringed napkins. Achmet, being seated on the other side of
the Governor, was mistaken by the attendants for the American Bey,
notwithstanding his dark complexion, and served first. I could not but
admire the courtly ease of his manners, which belonged rather to the born
son of a Pasha than to the poor orphan-boy of Luxor, indebted only to his
honesty, quick sense, and the kindness of an English lady, for a better
fate than that of the common Fellahs of Egypt. Yet with all the respect
which he knew so well how to command, his devotion to me, as a servant,
was unchanged, and he was as unremitting in his attentions as if soul and
body had been given him expressly for my use.
The Bey, learning that I was bound for Khartoum, sent a soldier for the
shekh of the harbor, whom he commanded, in my presence, to procure a boat
for me, and see that it was ready to sail the next day. The only boats
in this region are rough, open crafts, but the shekh promised to erect a
tent of palm-mats on the poop, to serve as a cabin. Soon after he left
the bridegroom appeared, led by an attendant, as he was totally blind.
He was a handsome youth of eighteen, and in his air there was a charming
mixture of the bridegroom’s dignity and the boy’s bashfulness. He was
simply, but very tastefully dressed, in a blue embroidered jacket, white
silk shirt, white shawl fringed with gold, full white trowsers and red
slippers. He was led to the Governor, kissed his hand and begged him to
ask me if he might not be allowed to have dinner prepared for me. The
officers asked me whether I knew of any remedy for his blindness, but as
I found that the sight had been destroyed by cataract, I told them there
was no help for him nearer than Cairo. The ceremonies were all over, and
the bride, after the entire consummation of the nuptials, had gone to her
father’s house, to remain four days.
The Bey, finding that I was not a merchant, asked Achmet what rank I
held, and the latter answered that in my own country it was something
between a Bey and a Pasha. Before we left, three soldiers were sent down
to the river, and, as I afterwards learned, remained all night, standing
with whips over the poor sailors who were employed in removing the cargo
from the hold of the vessel, which the shekh of the harbor had selected
for me. The raïs was threatened with a hundred lashes, unless he had
every thing ready by the next day. On leaving, I gave a _medjid_ to the
servants, as a gratuity is expected on such occasions. The Bey sent me
one of his Arnaouts to carry the lantern, and insisted on stationing a
guard near my tent. Two soldiers came soon afterwards, who sat upon my
camp-chests and smoked my tobacco until morning. Many of the soldiers
were slaves, who received only fifteen piastres a month, beside their
rations. The Arnaouts were paid one hundred and twenty-five piastres,
and thirty-five piastres additional, provided they furnished their own
equipments. As I pulled off my turban and threw myself on my mattress, I
involuntarily contrasted my position with that of the previous evening.
Then, I slept in the midst of a cluster of Arab huts, a simple Howadji,
among camel-drivers. Now, I was an American Bey, in my tent overlooking
the Nile, watched by a guard of honor sent me by the commander of the
military forces in Berber and Shendy. All honor to Ethiopian hospitality!
For here was at last the true Ethiopia, beyond the confines of Nubia;
beyond the ancient Capital of Queen Candace; beyond, not only the first
and second, but the eleventh cataract of the Nile, and not far distant
from “the steep of utmost Axumè.”
The morning brought with it no less pleasant experiences. Seated at the
door of my tent, indolently smoking, lulled by the murmuring of the Nile
and cheered by the brightness of the green sea that bathed his western
shore, I enjoyed the first complete _kèff_ since leaving Egypt. The
temperature was like that of an American June, and my pulse beat so full
and warm, my whole body was so filled with a sense of health, of strength
in repose, of pure physical satisfaction, that I could not be otherwise
than happy. My pleasure was disturbed by an old Arab, who came up with
two beautiful goats, which I supposed he wanted to sell, but when Achmet
returned from the bazaar, I found that they were a present from the Bey.
As I was sitting at breakfast, an hour later, I heard Achmet talking
loudly with some one on the outside of the tent, and called to him to
know what was the matter. He stated that an officer had just arrived
to announce the Bey’s approach, but that he had ordered him to go back
and say that I was at breakfast, and the Bey must not come for half an
hour. “You have done a very rude thing,” I said; for I felt annoyed that
the Bey should receive such a message, as coming from me. “Don’t be
alarmed, master,” he coolly replied; “the Bey is now certain that you
are of higher rank than he.” Fortunately, I had a handsome tent, the
best of tobacco, and pure Mocha coffee, so that I could comply with the
requisites of Eastern hospitality in a manner worthy of my supposed
rank. The tent was put in order, and I arranged a divan on one side,
made of my carpet, mattress, and capote. The two lantern-poles, bound
together, formed a mast, which I planted at the door, and then run up
the American flag. The preparations were scarcely completed before the
Bey appeared, galloping up on a superb, jet-black stallion, with half a
dozen officers in attendance. As he dismounted, I advanced to receive
him. According to Arab etiquette, the highest in rank enters first, and
true to Achmet’s prediction, the Bey, after taking my hand, requested me
to precede him. I declined, out of courtesy to him, and after a polite
controversy on the subject, he passed his arm affectionately around my
waist, and we went in side by side. Achmet had excellent coffee and
sherbet in readiness, but the Bey preferred my cigars to the shebook.
As he sat beside me on the divan, I thought I had rarely seen a nobler
countenance. He had an unusually clear, large hazel eye, a long but not
prominent nose, and the lines of fifty years had softened and subdued an
expression which may have been fierce and fearless in his younger days.
He was from a village near Parga, in Albania, and was delighted when I
told him that not long previous, I had sailed past the shores of his
native land.
He had no sooner taken his leave than the Civil Governor, _ad interim_,
Mustapha Kashif, arrived, attended by his chief secretary, Mahmoud
Effendi. Mustapha was an Anatolian, small in stature, and quite withered
and wasted by the torrid climate of Berber. His skin had a dark unhealthy
hue, and his eyes a filmy glare, which I attributed to other causes
than the diseased liver of which he complained. He immediately asked
for arakee, and when I told him that it was bad for the liver, said
it was the only thing which did him good. Mahmoud Effendi, who was a
good-humored Turk, made himself quite at home. I showed them my sketches,
with which they were greatly diverted. A remark of the Governor gratified
me exceedingly, as it showed that all the attention I received was paid
me, not on account of my supposed rank, but from the fact of my being
the first American who had ever visited the place. “I have been in
this country twenty-four years,” said he, “and in all that time only
some French and two or three German and English travellers have passed
through. You are the first I have seen from _Yenkee-Doonea_. [This sounds
very much like Yankee-Doodledom, but is in reality the Turkish for “New
World.”] You must not go home with an unfavorable account of us.” He
had once, when in Alexandria, visited an American man-of-war, which, it
appeared, had left a strong impression upon his mind. After mentioning
the circumstance, he asked me how many vessels there were in our Navy.
I had mastered the Arabic language sufficiently to know the necessity
of exaggeration, and answered, without hesitation, that there were one
hundred. “Oh no!” said Mustapha, turning to Mahmoud, the Secretary:
“His Excellency is entirely too modest. I know very well that there are
_six hundred_ vessels in the American Navy!” I had fallen far below the
proper mark; but Achmet tried to straighten the matter by saying that I
meant one hundred ships-of-the-line, and did not include the frigates,
sloops-of-war, brigs, and corvettes.
Before the Governor had finished his visit, there was a stir outside
of the tent, and presently the Chief Mollah—the high-priest of the
mosque of Berber—made his appearance. He was a tall, dark-skinned Arab
of between fifty and sixty years of age, and wore a long robe of the
color sacred to Mahomet, with a turban of the same, under which the ends
of a scarf of white gauze, embroidered with Arabic characters in gold,
hung on both sides of his face. His manner was quiet and dignified, to
a degree which I never saw excelled by any Christian divine. He refused
the pipe, but took coffee and sherbet, holding the former two or three
times alternately to each eye, while he murmured a form of prayer. He
was very much delighted with my sketches, and I was beginning to feel
interested in his remarks, when the Governor’s servant appeared, leading
a splendid chestnut stallion, with a bridle of scarlet silk cord, and
trappings of cloth of the same royal color. He was brought in order that
I might take a ride through the city. “But,” said I to Achmet, “I cannot
go until this priest has left.” “You forget your high rank, O master!”
said the cunning dragoman; “go without fear, and I will take charge of
the priest.” Without more ado, I took a hasty leave of the mollah, and
swung myself into the saddle. The animal shot off like a bolt from a
cross-bow, leaving the Governor to follow in my wake, on his favorite
gray ass. On reaching the mosque, I waited for him, and we entered the
bazaars together. He insisted on my preceding him, and at his command
all the merchants rose and remained standing until we passed. All eyes
were of course fixed upon me, and I had some difficulty in preserving a
serious and dignified countenance, as I thought of my cracked nose and
Abyssinian complexion. Two of the Governor’s slaves attended me, and one
of them, who had a remarkably insolent and scornful expression, was the
only person who did not seem impressed by my presence. The fellow’s face
was disagreeable to me; he was the death’s-head at my banquet.
The stallion was a noble beast, so full of blood and fire that it was
worth a month’s journey through the Desert to bestride him. He was
small, and his limbs were scarcely long enough for the breadth of his
chest and the fulness of his flanks. He had, however, the slender head
and brilliant eye of the Arab breed, and his powerful neck expressed a
fine disdain of other horses. He was of the best Dongolese stock, but
resembled in many points the famed Anatolian breed of Asia Minor. He
pranced and caracoled impatiently as I forced him to accommodate his
pace to that of the ignoble ass. “Let him run!” said the Governor, as we
reached a broad open square near the outskirts of the city. I slackened
the rein, and he dashed away with a swiftness that almost stopped my
breath. I am but an ordinary rider, but owing to the Turkish saddle, had
no difficulty in keeping a firm seat and controlling the powerful steed.
We visited the mud fortress of Berber, which is a square structure, with
a bastion at each corner, having embrasures for three cannon, and the
Governor gave me to understand that they made a mighty sound, every time
they were fired. He then took me to the house of a French merchant, with
a name something like D’Arfou. The merchant was absent in Cairo, but a
black slave gave us admittance. We took seats in a cool portico, admired
the Frenchman’s handsome gray donkey and his choice cows, looked out the
windows upon his garden, planted with fig, orange, banana and pomegranate
trees, and were finally served with coffee, presented in heavy silver
_serfs_. A slave then appeared, bringing his child, a pretty boy of two
years old, born of an Abyssinian mother. He refused to be taken into
the Governor’s arms, and contemplated me, his Frank relative, with much
more satisfaction. M. D’Arfou’s house—although the walls were mud, the
floors gravel and the roof palm-logs—was cool, roomy and pleasant; and
for that region, where one cannot easily have marble pavements and jasper
fountains, was even luxurious.
We mounted again, and the Governor took me through the city, to its
southern extremity. It is more than a mile in length, and contains about
twenty thousand inhabitants. The houses are all of mud, which, though
unsightly in appearance, is there as good as granite, and the streets
are broad, clean, and unmolested by dogs. I was well pleased with the
appearance of the place. The inhabitants are mostly Nubians, of the
different tribes between Berber and Dongola, mixed with a few Ababdehs,
Bishàrees, and other Desert Arabs. Though scantily dressed, they seemed
contented, if not with their masters, at least with their condition.
Among the crowd that gathered to see us, I recognized Eesa, arrayed in
a new, snow-white garment, and looking like a bronze Ganymede. He gazed
at me wistfully, as if uncertain whether he should dare to speak, but I
hailed him at once with: “_Salaamàt, ya Eesa!_” and he replied proudly
and joyfully. After our tour was over, the Governor took me to his house,
which, after that of the Pasha, was the finest one in the place. His
reception-room was cool, with a broad divan, upon which we stretched
ourselves at ease, sharing the single pillow between us. The attendants
were dressing in an adjoining room, and presently appeared in all the
splendor of snow-white turbans and trowsers. I was presented with a
pipe, and as a great treat, a bottle of the mastic cordial of Scio was
brought. The Governor insisted on my drinking three small glasses of it,
three being the fortunate number. At this juncture Achmet appeared, to my
great relief, for my whole stock of Arabic was exhausted.
We were about to leave, but the Governor declared that it was impossible.
It would be disgraceful to him, should we not take dinner in his house,
and in order that we might not be delayed, he ordered it to be served at
once. I was willing enough to make use of this opportunity of partaking
of an Arab dinner. First, a slave appeared, and gave each of us a napkin,
which we spread over our knees. He was followed by another, who bore a
brass ewer, and a pitcher from which he poured water over our hands. A
small stand upholding a large circular piece of tin, was then placed
before us. A covered dish stood in the centre, and a rampart of thin
wheaten cakes, resembling Mexican tortillas, adorned the circumference.
The cover was removed, disclosing a thick soup, with balls of dough and
meat. We took the ebony spoons, and now behold the Governor, Achmet and
I dipping fraternally into the same bowl, and politely stirring the
choice lumps into each other’s spoons. Mustapha was in the most hilarious
humor, but his four dark attendants stood before us as solemn as Death.
I thought then, and still think, that they hated him cordially. The soup
was followed by a dish of _kibâbs_, or small pieces of meat, fried in
grease. These we picked out with our fingers, and then, tearing the wheat
cakes into slices, sopped up the sauce. About ten different compounds
of meat and vegetables followed, each unlike any thing I ever tasted
before, but all quite palatable. The only articles I was able to detect
in the whole dinner, were mutton-cutlets, egg-plants and sour milk.
Each dish was brought on separately, and we all three ate therefrom,
either with spoons or fingers. When the repast was finished, water was
brought again, and we washed our hands and quietly awaited the pipes and
coffee. When we arose to leave, Achmet was about to give the customary
medjid to the servants, but the Governor prevented him. Nevertheless, he
found an opportunity as I was mounting, to slip it into the hand of the
scornful slave, who took it without relaxing the scowl upon his features.
I pranced back to my tent upon the chestnut stallion, from which I parted
with more regret than from its owner.
By this time, every thing was in readiness for my departure. The sailors,
who had worked all night with the whips of the Albanian soldiers hung
over their backs (unknown to me, or I should not have permitted it), had
brought the vessel to the bank below my tent, and the Bey had sent me
his promised letter to the Governor of Shendy. The pleasures of royalty
were now over, and I had to deal with some of its pains. All the officers
and servants who had been employed for my benefit expected backsheesh,
and every beggar in the place came to taste the bounty of the foreign
king. When Achmet went to the bazaars to purchase a few necessaries, he
overheard the people saying to one another, “That is the interpreter of
the strange king,” and many of them rose and remained standing until he
had passed. Ali, who had spent the whole day apparently in hunting for
chickens and pigeons, but Eblis knew for what in reality, was assailed on
all sides with inquiries: “Who is this that has come among us? What high
rank does he possess, that he receives such honor?” Ali, who had known
me merely as a Howadji, was somewhat perplexed how to explain the matter,
but got out of his difficulty by declaring that I was the son of the
great king of all the Franks.
I shall not soon forget that noble old Albanian, Yagheshir Bey. Achmet,
who paid him a parting visit, and was received with the greatest
kindness, conceived a strong affection for him. The Bey, on learning that
I was ready to leave, sent word to me that he would bring a company of
his Arnaouts down to the bank of the Nile, and salute my flag. “It is the
first time that flag has been seen here,” said he to Achmet, “and I must
have it properly honored.” And truly enough, when we were all embarked,
and I had given the stars and stripes to the Ethiopian winds, a company
of about fifty soldiers ranged themselves along the high bank, and
saluted the flag with a dozen rattling volleys.
As I sailed away I returned the salute with my pistols, and the soldiers
fired a parting volley after me for good luck on the voyage, but so
recklessly that I heard the sharp whistle of the bullets quite close to
the vessel. I felt more grateful to the Bey for this courtesy than for
his kindness to myself. But Berber was soon left behind; for the wind was
fair, and bore me southward, deeper into Africa.