VISITS IN KHARTOUM.
Visit to the Catholic Mission—Dr. Knoblecher, the Apostolic
Vicar—Moussa Bey—Visit to Lattif Pasha—Reception—The
Pasha’s Palace—Lions—We Dine with the Pasha—Ceremonies upon
the Occasion—Music—The Guests—The Franks in Khartoum—Dr.
Péney—Visit to the Sultana Nasra—An Ethiopian Dinner—Character
of the Sultana.
On the day of my arrival, Dr. Reitz proposed a visit to Dr. Knoblecher,
the Apostolic Vicar of the Catholic Missions in Central Africa, who had
returned to Khartoum about twenty days previous. The Vicar’s name was
already familiar to me, from the account of his voyage up the White Nile
in 1850, which was published in the German journals during his visit to
Europe, and it had been my design to propose joining his party, in case
he had carried out his plan of making a second voyage in the winter of
1852. He ascended as far as lat. 4° north, or about sixty miles beyond
the point reached by D’Arnaud and Werne, and therefore stands at the head
of Nilotic explorers.
Preceded by two attendants, we walked through the town to the Catholic
Mission, a spacious one-story building in a large garden near the river.
Entering a court, in the centre of which grew a tall tamarind tree, we
were received by an Italian monk, in flowing robes, who conducted us
into a second court, inclosed by the residence of the Vicar. Here we met
two other priests, a German and a Hungarian, dressed in flowing Oriental
garments. They ushered us into a large room, carpeted with matting, and
with a comfortable divan around the sides. The windows looked into a
garden, which was filled with orange, fig and banana trees, and fragrant
with jasmine and mimosa blossoms. We had scarcely seated ourselves, when
the monks rose and remained standing, while Dr. Knoblecher entered. He
was a small man, slightly and rather delicately built, and not more than
thirty-five years of age. His complexion was fair, his eyes a grayish
blue, and his beard, which he wore flowing upon his breast, a very
decided auburn. His face was one of those which wins not only kindness
but confidence from all the world. His dress consisted of a white
turban, and a flowing robe of dark purple cloth. He is a man of thorough
cultivation, conversant with several languages, and possesses an amount
of scientific knowledge which will make his future explorations valuable
to the world. During my stay in Khartoum I visited him frequently, and
derived from him much information concerning the countries of Soudân and
their inhabitants.
On our return we called upon Moussa Bey, the commander of the expedition
sent into the lands of the Shukorees and the Hallengas, the foregoing
summer. He was then ill of a fever and confined to his bed, but we
entered the room without ceremony, and found with him the new Governor of
Berber and Abd-el-Kader Bey, the Governor of Kordofan, besides several
secretaries and attendants. Moussa Bey was a Turk, perhaps fifty years
of age, and had a strong, sturdy, energetic face. Several Arab shekhs,
some of whom had been taken prisoners in the late expedition, were
lounging about the court-yards.
The day after my arrival, Dr. Reitz presented me to Lattif Pasha,
the Governor of Soudân. The Egyptian officials in Khartoum generally
consider themselves as exiles, and a station in Soudân carries with it a
certain impression of disgrace. For the Pasha, however, it is an office
of great importance and responsibility, and its duties are fully as
arduous as those of the Viceroy of Egypt himself. The provinces under
his rule constitute a territory of greater extent than France, and
there are as many factions among the native tribes as parties among the
French politicians. It is moreover, in many respects, an independent
sovereignty. Its great distance from the seat of authority, and the
absence of any regular means of communication except the government post,
gives the Pasha of Soudân opportunities of which he never fails to avail
himself. Achmet Pasha at one time so strengthened himself here that he
defied even Mohammed Ali, and it is still whispered that foul means were
used to get rid of him. Since then, rotation in office is found to be
good policy, and the Egyptian Government is careful to remove a Pasha
before he has made himself dangerous. From the Turks and Europeans in
Khartoum, I heard little good of Lattif Pasha. His character was said to
be violent and arbitrary, and several most savage acts were attributed
to him. One thing, however, was said in favor of him, and it was a great
redeeming trait in those lands: he did not enrich himself by cheating the
government. At the time of my visit it was understood that he had been
recalled, and was to be superseded by Rustum Pasha.
We found the Pasha seated on his divan, with a secretary before him,
reading a file of documents. The guards at the door presented arms as
we entered, and the Pasha no sooner saw us than he rose, and remained
standing till we came up. The Consul presented me, and we seated
ourselves on the divan, separated from him by a pair of cushions. Pipes
were brought to us by black slaves, and after a few common-places, he
turned again to his business. The Secretary was reading despatches to
the different provinces of Soudân. As fast as each was approved and laid
aside, a Memlook slave of fifteen, who appeared to fill the office of
page, stamped them with the Pasha’s seal, in lieu of signature. When
the affairs were concluded, the Pasha turned to us and entered into
conversation. He was a man of forty-five years of age, of medium height,
but stoutly built, and with regular and handsome features. His complexion
was a pale olive, his eyes large and dark, and he wore a black beard and
moustaches, very neatly trimmed. His mouth was full, and when he smiled,
showed a perfect set of strong white teeth, which gave a certain grimness
to his expression. His manner was refined, but had that feline smoothness
which invariably covers sharp claws. If I had met him in London or Paris,
in Frank costume, I should have set him down as the _primo basso_ of the
Italian Opera. He was plainly dressed in a suit of dark-blue cloth, and
wore a small tarboosh on his head.
Our conversation first turned upon America, and finally upon steam
navigation and maritime affairs in general. He took an interest in such
subjects, as he was formerly Admiral in the navy of Mohammed Ali. An
engraving of the Turkish frigate _Sultan Mahmoud_, which was built by the
American Eckford, hung on the wall opposite me. Over the divan was a
portrait of Sultan Abdul-Medjid, and on each side two Arabic sentences,
emblazoned on a ground of blue and crimson. The apartment was spacious
and lofty; the ceiling was of smooth palm-logs, and the floor of cement,
beaten hard and polished with the trowel. I expressed my surprise to the
Pasha that he had erected such a stately building in the short space of
nine months, and he thereupon proposed to show it to me more in detail.
He conducted us to a reception-room, covered with fine carpets, and
furnished with mirrors and luxurious divans; then the dining-room, more
plainly furnished, the bath with Moorish arches glimmering in steamy
twilight, and his private armory, the walls of which were hung with a
small but rich assortment of Turkish and European weapons. The doors of
the apartments were made of a dark-red wood, of very fine grain, closely
resembling mahogany. It is found in the mountains of Fazogl, on the
south-western border of Abyssinia. It is susceptible of a fine polish,
and the Pasha showed me a large and handsome table made from it.
The Pasha then led us into the court-yard, where the workmen were still
busy, plastering the interior of the corridors surrounding it. A large
leopard and a lion-whelp of six months old, were chained to two of the
pillars. A younger whelp ran loose about the court, and gave great
diversion to the Pasha, by lying in wait behind the pillars, whence
he pounced out upon any young boy-slave, who might pass that way. The
little fellow would take to his heels in great terror, and scamper across
the court, followed by the whelp, who no sooner overtook him than he
sprang with his fore-paws against the boy’s back, threw him down, and
then ran off, apparently very much delighted with the sport. He had
the free range of the palace, but spent the most of his time in the
kitchen where he would leap upon a table, deliberately lie down, and
watch the movements of the cooks with great interest. The Pasha told us
that this whelp had on one occasion found his way to the harem, where
his presence was first proclaimed by the screams of the terrified women.
The leopard was a large and fierce animal, but the other lion was a
rough, good-humored fellow, turning over on his back to be played with,
and roaring frequently, with a voice that resembled the low notes of a
melancholy trombone. From this court we passed into the outer corridor
fronting the square, when the jewelled shebooks were again brought, and
the Pasha discoursed for some time on the necessity of controlling one’s
passions and preserving a quiet temperament under all circumstances. When
we rose to depart, he invited us to return and dine with him next day.
Towards sunset the horses were got ready; Dr. Reitz donned his uniform,
and I dressed myself in Frank costume, with the exception of the
tarboosh, shawl and red slippers. We called at the Catholic Mission on
our way to the Palace, and while conversing with the monks in the garden,
a message came from the Pasha requesting Aboona Suleyman—(Padre Solomon,
as Dr. Knoblecher was called by the Copts and Mussulmans in Khartoum)—to
accompany us. We therefore set out on foot with the Vicar, with the
grooms leading the horses behind us. The Pasha received us at the
entrance of his reception-room, and then retired to pray, before further
conversation. The divan at the further end of the room was divided in the
centre by a pile of cushions, the space on the right hand being reserved
for the Pasha alone. The Consul, being the second independent power,
seated himself on the left hand, Dr. Knoblecher modestly took the corner,
and I drew up my legs beside him, on the side divan. After a short
absence—during which, we also were supposed to have said our prayers—the
Pasha returned, saluted us a second time, and seated himself. Four slaves
appeared at the same moment, with four pipes, which they presented to us
in the order of our rank, commencing with the Pasha.
When the aroma of the delicate Djebeli tobacco had diffused a certain
amount of harmony among us, the conversation became more animated. The
principal subject we discussed was the _coup d’étât_ of Louis Napoleon,
the news of which had just arrived by dromedary post, in twenty-four days
from Cairo. The Pasha said it was precisely the thing which he had long
ago predicted would come to pass. Louis Napoleon, he said, would behead
Thiers, Cavaignac, Lamoricière and the others whom he had imprisoned,
and make, if necessary, twenty coups d’étât, after which, France would
begin to prosper. The French, he said, must be well beaten, or it is
impossible to govern them. The conversation had hardly commenced, when a
slave appeared, bearing a silver tray, upon which were four tiny glasses
of mastic cordial, a single glass of water, and saucers which contained
bits of orange and pomegranate. The Pasha was always served first. He
drank the cordial, took a sip of water, and then each of us in turn,
drinking from the same glass. At intervals of about five minutes the same
refreshment appeared, and was served at least ten times before dinner was
announced.
Presently there came a band of musicians—five Egyptian boys whom the
Pasha had brought with him from Cairo. We had also two additions to the
company of guests: Rufaā Bey, an intelligent Egyptian, who was educated
in France, and had been principal of a native college in Cairo, under
Mohammed Ali, and Ali Bey Khasib, the late Governor of Berber, who had
been deposed on account of alleged mal-practices. The latter was the
son of a water-carrier in Cairo, but was adopted by the widow of Ismaïl
Pasha, who gave him a superior education. Other accounts represented him
to be the illegitimate son of either Ismaïl or Ibrahim Pasha, and this
surmise was probably correct. He was a bold, handsome man of thirty, and
was said to be the most intelligent of all the officials in Soudân.
After some little prelude, the musicians commenced. The instruments were
a _zumarra_, or reed flute, a dulcimer, the wires of which were struck
with a wooden plectrum, held between the first and middle fingers, and a
tambourine, two of the boys officiating only as singers. The airs were
Arabic and Persian, and had the character of improvisations, compared
with the classic music of Europe. The rhythm was perfect, and the parts
sustained by the different instruments arranged with considerable skill.
The Egyptian officers were greatly moved by the melodies, which, in their
wild, passionate, barbaric cadences, had a singular charm for my ear. The
songs were principally of love, but of a higher character than the common
songs of the people. The Pasha translated a brace for us. One related to
the loves of a boy and maiden, the former of whom was humble, the latter
the daughter of a Bey. They saw and loved each other, but the difference
in their stations prevented the fulfilment of their hopes. One day, as
the girl was seated at her window, a funeral passed through the street
below. She asked the name of the dead person, and they answered “Leyl,”
the name of her beloved, whom the violence of his passion had deprived
of life. Her lamentations formed the theme of a separate song, in which
the name of Leyl was repeated in one long, continued outcry of grief and
love. The second song was of a widow who had many wooers, by whom she was
so beset, that she finally appointed a day to give them her decision. The
same day her son died, yet, because she had given her word, she mastered
her grief by a heroic resolution, arrayed herself in her finest garments,
received her suitors, and sang to her lute the song which would best
entertain them. At the close of the festival she announced her loss in a
song, and concluded by refusing all their offers.
At last, dinner was announced. The Pasha led the way into the
dining-room, stopping in an ante-chamber, where a group of slaves were
ready with pitchers, ewers and napkins, and we performed the customary
washing of hands. The Pasha then took his seat at the round table, and
pointed out his place to each guest. Dr. Knoblecher and myself sat on his
right, Dr. Reitz and Rufaā Bey on his left, and Ali Bey Khasib opposite.
There were no plates, but each of us had a silver knife, spoon and fork,
and the arrangement was so far in Frank style that we sat upon chairs
instead of the floor. The only ceremony observed was, that the Pasha
first tasted each dish as it was brought upon the table, after which the
rest of us followed. We all ate soup from the same tureen, and buried
our several right hands to the knuckles in the fat flesh of the sheep
which was afterwards set before us. Claret was poured out for the Franks
and Rufaā Bey (whose Moslem principles had been damaged by ten years
residence in Paris), the Pasha and Ali Bey alone abstaining. There were
twenty courses in all and the cookery was excellent Besides the delicate
Turkish compounds of meat and vegetables, delicious fish from the White
Nile and fruits from the Pasha’s garden, we had blanc mange and several
varieties of French _patisserie_. At the close of the repast, a glass
bowl containing a cool drink made from dried figs, quinces and apricots,
was placed upon the table. The best possible humor prevailed, and I
enjoyed the dinner exceedingly, the more so because I had not expected to
find such a high degree of civilization in Soudân.
We had afterwards coffee and pipes in the reception-room, and about
ten in the evening took leave of the Pasha and walked home, preceded
by attendants carrying large glass lanterns. After accompanying Dr.
Knoblecher to the gate of the Mission, Ali Bey Khasib took my hand, Rufaā
Bey that of the Consul, and we walked to the residence of the Bey, who
detained us an hour by the narration of the injuries and indignities
which had been inflicted upon him by order of Abbas Pasha. The latter,
on coming into power, took especial care to remove all those officers
who had been favorites of Mohammed Ali. Many of them were men of high
attainments and pure character, who had taken an active part in carrying
out the old Pasha’s measures of reform. Among them was Rufaā Bey, who,
with several of his associates, was sent to Khartoum, ostensibly for the
purpose of founding a College there, but in reality as a banishment from
Egypt. He had been there a year and a half at the time of my visit, yet
no order had been received from Cairo relative to the College. This state
of inaction and uncertainty, combined with the effect of the climate, had
already terminated the lives of two of his fellow professors, and it
was no doubt the design of Abbas Pasha to relieve himself of all of them
by the same means. When I heard this story, the truth of which Dr. Reitz
confirmed, I could readily account for the bitterness of the curses which
the venerable old Bey heaped upon the head of his tyrannical ruler.
The Frank population of Khartoum was not large, consisting, besides Dr.
Reitz and the priests of the Catholic Mission, of Dr. Péney, a French
physician, Dr. Vierthaler, a German, and an Italian apothecary, the two
former of whom were in the Egyptian service. Dr. Péney had been ten years
in Soudân, and knew the whole country, from the mountains of Fazogl to
the plains of Takka, on the Atbara River, and the Shangalla forests on
the Abyssinian frontier. He was an exceedingly intelligent and courteous
person, and gave me much interesting information, concerning the regions
he had visited and the habits of the different tribes of Soudân. I had
afterwards personal opportunity of verifying the correctness of many of
his statements. There were a few Coptic merchants in the place, and on
the second day after my arrival I had an opportunity of witnessing the
New-Year ceremonies of their Church, which, like the Greek, still retains
the old style. The service, which was very similar to a Catholic mass,
was chanted in musical Arabic, and at its close we were presented with
small cakes of unleavened flour, stamped with a cross. At the conclusion
of the ceremonies coffee was given to us in an outer court, with the
cordial “_Haneean!_” (a wish equivalent to the Latin prosit, or “may it
benefit you!”)—to which we replied: “_Allah Haneek!_” (may God give you
benefit!)
Dr. Reitz took me one day to visit the celebrated Sitteh (Lady) Nasra,
the daughter of the last King of Sennaar and brother of the present
Shekh of that province. She is a woman of almost masculine talent and
energy, and may be said to govern Sennaar at present. All the Arab
shekhs, as well as the population at large, have the greatest respect
for her, and invariably ask her advice, in any crisis of affairs. Her
brother, Idris Wed Adlan, notwithstanding his nominal subjection to
Egypt, still possesses absolute sway over several hundred villages, and
is called King of Kulle. The Lady Nasra retains the title of Sultana,
on account of her descent from the ancient royal house of Sennaar. She
has a palace at Soriba, on the Blue Nile, which, according to Lepsius,
exhibits a degree of wealth and state very rare in Soudân. She was then
in Khartoum on a visit, with her husband, Mohammed Defalleh, the son of a
former Vizier of her father, King Adlan.
We found the Lady Nasra at home, seated on a carpet in her audience-hall,
her husband and Shekh Abd-el-Kader—the Shekh of Khartoum, who married her
daughter by a former husband—occupying an adjacent carpet. She gave the
Consul her hand, saluted me, as a stranger, with an inclination of her
head, and we seated ourselves on the floor opposite to her. She was about
forty-five years old, but appeared younger, and still retained the traces
of her former beauty. Her skin was a pale bronze color, her eyes large
and expressive, and her face remarkable for its intelligence and energy.
All her motions were graceful and dignified, and under more favorable
circumstances she might have become a sort of Ethiopian Zenobia. She wore
a single robe of very fine white muslin, which she sometimes folded so
as nearly to conceal her features, and sometimes allowed to fall to her
waist, revealing the somewhat over-ripe charms of her bosom. A heavy ring
of the native gold of Kasan hung from her nose, and others adorned her
fingers. Dr. Reitz explained to her that I was not a Frank, but came from
a great country on the other side of the world. She spoke of the visit
of Dr. Lepsius, at Soriba, and said that he was the only far-travelled
stranger she had seen, except myself. I took occasion to say that I had
frequently heard of her in my native land; that her name was well-known
all over the world; and that the principal reason of my visit to Soudân,
was the hope of seeing her. She was not in the least flattered by these
exaggerated compliments, but received them as quietly as if they were her
right. She was a born queen, and I doubt whether any thing upon the earth
would have been able to shake her royal indifference.
Her slaves were all girls of twelve to fourteen years of age, naked
except the _ràhad_, or girdle of leathern fringe about the loins. They
had evidently been chosen for their beauty, and two of them, although
as black as cast-iron statues, were incomparable for the symmetry of
their forms and the grace of their movements. They brought us pipes
and coffee, and when not employed, stood in a row at the bottom of the
room, with their hands folded upon their breasts. Dinner was just ready,
and we were invited to partake of it. The Sultana had already dined
in solitary state, so her husband, Shekh Abd-el-Kader, the Consul and
I, seated ourselves cross-legged on the floor, around the huge bowl
containing an entire sheep stuffed with rice. We buried our fingers in
the hot and smoking flesh and picked the choicest pieces from the ribs
and flank, occasionally taking a handful of rice from the interior. The
only additional dish was a basket of raw onions and radishes. Before each
of us stood a slave with a napkin and a large glass of _om bilbil_—the
“mother of nightingales.” After drinking we returned the glass to the
slave’s hand, she standing all the while immovable as a statue. After we
had eaten our fill of roast mutton and raw onions, they brought a dish
of prepared dourra, called _abri_, which strongly resembles the _pinole_
of Mexico. The grain is pounded very fine, sifted, mixed with a little
sugar and water, and made into thin, dry leaves, as white and delicate as
cambric. It is considered very nourishing, especially on a journey, for
which purpose it is used by the rich shekhs of Soudân.
As we took our leave, the Sultana, observing that our cane batons, which
we had just purchased in the bazaar, were of very indifferent quality,
ordered two others to be brought, of a fine yellow wood, resembling box,
which is found in the mountains on the Abyssinian frontier, and gave them
to us.