THE EAST.
[Illustration: JERUSALEM—ANCIENT TEMPLE COURT WALL.]
THE EAST:
BEING
A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS
OF
A Tour in Egypt, Palestine, and Syria.
BY
WILLIAM YOUNG MARTIN.
[Illustration: MOUNT MORIAH—DOME OF THE ROCK.]
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND.
1876.
THE EAST:
BEING
A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL IMPRESSIONS
OF
A TOUR IN EGYPT, PALESTINE, AND SYRIA,
WITH NUMEROUS REFERENCES TO
THE MANNERS AND PRESENT CONDITION OF THE
TURKS AND TO CURRENT EVENTS.
BY
WILLIAM YOUNG MARTIN.
“The domestic life of Turkey is still best illustrated by
‘Bluebeard and his Wives;’ the great curved scimitar, somewhat
stained, is nowadays hung overhead, suspended by a thread.
Sister Ann is silent for she sees nobody coming, and the whilom
gallant Knight St. George is amissing.”
LONDON:
TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE STREET, STRAND.
1876.
[_All rights of Translation and Reproduction are reserved._]
LONDON:
SAVILL, EDWARDS AND CO., PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
PREFACE.
At present any new book on the East will naturally be looked upon as got
up in view of the existing excitement on the subject of the “Turkish
Atrocities.” Hence a few lines of preface may be necessary.
This book was originally written more than a year ago, and was in the
publishers’ hands before the Bulgarian massacres were made public; but
I have since had time to add a Chapter and several Notes still farther
illustrating Turkish character, as well as Mahomedan domestic, religious,
and political life. I think that in the present crisis every little
fact and observation, even of an ordinary Eastern tourist, may add to
a knowledge of what has I fear been too long—not intentionally, but
inadvertently—concealed from the general reader.
Prominence is given to the _inevitable results_ of Moslem domestic
life—the slavery and imprisonment of women. Industry, art, and patriotism
have disappeared, as also national probity, and even the fertility of
the land! Turkey has no Shakspeare, no Burns, no Béranger, because the
sentiment of tenderness, in which all poetry has its root, is extinct.
Need we be very much surprised if such a people should become fiendlike?
In view of the important events now transpiring in Eastern Europe, I
have not hesitated to express an opinion of the Turkish Government and
the condition of that unhappy country, but have been careful to avoid a
political tone. To act otherwise would, I feel, be entirely out of place;
and besides, I think that either both political parties are to blame for
the present condition of Turkey, or that neither party really is so.
Except the securing by Government open navigation and the freedom of
commerce, the only duty that seems imposed upon Great Britain now, is to
fulfil her treaty obligation of twenty years ago—namely, the seeing that
complete protection and religious liberty be secured, not only to the
Greek Church, but to all sects alike—Christian and Jew. This may prove no
easy task, however, and requires unanimity. There is very great danger
that, in befriending Turkey, Great Britain may unintentionally strengthen
her in evil, and this it now appears was pointed out by the late Prince
Consort. It is remarkable that of all our statesmen he was the one who
some twenty years ago foresaw and pointed out this danger; and every new
revelation we obtain of his life shows more and more the enlightened
character of that great Prince, who seems to have lived in advance of his
age.
W. Y. M.
_October 16th, 1876._
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. EGYPT AND THE OUTWARD JOURNEY 1
II. PALESTINE, JUDEA, JERUSALEM, &C. 49
III. PALESTINE, BETHLEHEM, DEAD SEA, JORDAN, &C. 91
IV. PALESTINE, SAMARIA, TENT LIFE, &C. 133
V. SYRIA, DAMASCUS, BALBEC, BEYROUT, HOMEWARD JOURNEY, &C. 172
VI. POSTSCRIPT.—RECENT EVENTS 238
NOTES—NEW ROUTE TO INDIA—DOMESTIC LIFE IN TURKEY 265
[Illustration]
THE EAST.
CHAPTER I.
EGYPT.
The subject of my little book is “THE EAST”—one on which more books have
been written, and more lectures given, than any other perhaps which could
be named.
Nothing therefore could be easier than to write a lecture in the
usual style out of such an immense mass of material—to build, as it
were, a beautiful house, with stones already shaped and polished. For
that very reason, however, I do not propose to lecture at all, in the
ordinary acceptation of that term, but to give, in a number of personal
recollections, the impressions produced on my own mind by what I saw
and felt in the course of a recent tour. They have no pretension to any
merit except that of genuineness; not a note was written during my tour;
and as it was entered upon somewhat hastily, no book on the subject was
consulted, nor did I carry any with me, for nothing was farther from my
intention than writing on this subject. Perhaps these circumstances were
not altogether disadvantageous; for if my impressions be sometimes at
fault, they ought to be original and fresh, because often obtained from a
new stand-point.
I need not describe the journey South, which is already familiar to all
who travel. Leaving Forfarshire in the beginning of January, with snow
falling and ice on the ground, we passed through France in weather such
as the French are inclined to call “English.” It was raining when we
entered the Cenis Tunnel, and when we emerged in Italy at the other end
it was snowing; and during the journey southwards, and especially during
our short stay in Turin and Milan, the weather was very nearly as cold
as in Scotland—although certainly much more bright. These two are fine
models of Western cities, and altogether, Northern Italy showed ample
signs of life and progress with great agricultural wealth, but there was
a plethora of paper money and a sad scarcity of coin everywhere evident.
It is unnecessary to detain the reader with any attempted description
of the art treasures of Bologna and Florence and Rome, where also
the weather, although pleasant, was by no means warm. Rome is not
disappointing: it is really grand. Its churches, with St. Peter’s at
their head, are extremely rich, and beautified with all manner of
precious stones, and gold, and silver, and mosaics, and pictures in
abundance; but still its ancient ruins are by far the grandest of all.
St. Peter’s, like every building I think which is highly finished, is at
first disappointing as to size, and rendered still further so, perhaps,
by the wide-spreading base of the Vatican and other buildings forming
its approach. Its vastness is however apparent when seen at a distance,
towering high above all the buildings of the city. Inside St. Peter’s
there is again the same unconsciousness of its vast height. Every part
is so perfect in proportion and finish that, as has been often remarked,
it is only realized by comparison with the height of the human figures
moving about on its paved floor. Perhaps there is also an architectural
reason which in a large degree accounts for this difference between
apparent and actual height. Thus in St. Paul’s, London—of a style
somewhat similar—I have felt it impossible to realize its well-known
great dimensions of altitude. The _horizontal_ lines of its walls inside
are so numerous and so strictly carried along the entire fabric, that no
single pier, column, or _upright_ line is left bold or unbroken on which
the eye can rest.
Of course I could not appreciate Michael Angelo nor the merits of the
“Grand Pictures,” but a few of them did impress me as really great.
I may instance as such Guido’s “Aurora,” a beautiful fresco painted
upon the ceiling of a gallery, and especially Leonardo’s fresco of the
“Last Supper,” painted upon the wall of an old convent, at Milan, and
which I was surprised to find in a most deplorable state of decay.
But notwithstanding, nothing in Art has impressed me so much with its
greatness as this work, except indeed the equally defaced Sphinx of the
Egyptian Pyramids. Of the Paintings, I came to appreciate in some measure
“The Transfiguration,” “The St. Agnes,” one of the “Madonnas,” and the
“Ecce Homo”—Guido’s I think. Of Sculpture the Greek Statuary was, I
thought, very beautiful. In works of Art the wealth of Italy is enormous.
Naples, where we stayed for a week, appeared a much larger city than I
had supposed—much the largest in Italy—and for the first time I was
struck by the changed aspect of everything around—mosquito netting for
our beds, a temperature which felt warm even in January, and already
everything beginning to assume an Eastern aspect.
All are familiar with the surroundings of Naples—Vesuvius, Pompeii,
Herculaneum, the celebrated Bay of Naples, Capri, Sorrento—altogether a
landscape which has excited the rivalry of poets to describe. Of these,
the ruins of Pompeii are peculiarly interesting, and the jealous care
with which they are protected from pilfering relic-seekers, by the
Italian soldiers in charge, is a model of watchfulness as remarkable as
it is rare.
The Neapolitans seem a pleasure-loving and still somewhat a lawless
people, especially those living in the district south-west of Vesuvius.
We witnessed a visitation ceremonial by the Archbishop, in the large
Cathedral—imposing for its show if not interesting from its teachings.
Its once famous, or rather infamous, dungeons are no longer in use for
political offences. The Neapolitans owe much to William Gladstone, as
well as to Garibaldi.
Our point of embarkation for the East proper was Brindisi, a small
ancient-looking town near the heel of the “Boot,” with a good pier and a
new hotel, and amply supplied with churches—old, dusty, and gloomy. Here
being joined by the Overland India passengers and mails, we sailed for
Egypt on the 1st February, on board the P. & O. steamer, embarking during
a wonderful evening sky phenomenon, prognosticating a storm.
The voyage to Alexandria is nearly 1000 miles. Our first morning at sea
showed the rocky coast of Greece on the left, and soon afterwards the
Island of Crete in the distance—all barren, and white, and lifeless, as
the rocks in the Mediterranean seem to be. This is occasioned partly
by the nature of the rock—which is (like almost all the mountains we
saw in the East) of limestone formation, more or less pure—and by the
fact that there are no tides in the Mediterranean, and consequently no
marine vegetation except under the surface. The voyage, which lasts three
or four days, was, except on the second one, moderately pleasant. The
Mediterranean is by no means as smooth as a lake. Storms somewhat violent
arise suddenly, but rarely last over a day or two.
Our first glimpse of Africa was far from pleasing—nothing but dreary
barren sand, or rather mud-looking mounds, formed its frontier, with very
few traces of habitation except numerous windmills on the hilltops—which
are of no great elevation. Vegetation there appeared to be none.
By-and-by, however, we entered upon the magnificent Bay of Alexandria,
for shipping one of the largest and finest in the world.
Here all is life, bustle, and excitement. A hundred vessels—many of them
steamers of large size—crowded the bay—where they lay at anchor for
the purpose of unloading and loading cargo. This is carried by lighters
betwixt them and the quays, along side of which only small craft lie—I
suppose in consequence of the silting of the mud from the many mouths of
the Nile rendering the water there insufficiently deep. In the bay, and
surrounding us on all sides, were steamers of the five Maritime Powers
who compete for the navigation of the Mediterranean—viz., the P. & O.
(British), the Austrian Lloyd’s (perhaps the most numerous, and all
bearing names of the heathen gods, from Jupiter down to Mercury), the
French, the Russian, and the Egyptian. I have put them down in the order
of their merit, I think, although not of their numbers. I understand,
however, that the French steamer service (Messageries Maritimes) has very
recently been greatly improved in every respect, and that now the P. & O.
require to look to their laurels in the East generally. The confusion
of landing is, as almost everywhere else, apt to end in a scramble, and
sometimes in a fight for possession of the luggage by the porters of the
hotels, or by the Arabs on their own account for the sake of “Bakshish”—a
word we heard for the first time, but which we were not allowed to forget.
Viewed from the deck of the steamer the appearance of Alexandria is fine.
The grand modern breakwater on the left forms its northern boundary; the
quays themselves are immediately in front, and the shore or beach of
the city on the right side—forming nearly a semicircle of great extent.
The ancient Pharos no longer exists. The buildings, which appear more
prominently in view, being regular and of a whitish coloured stone
or cement, have a somewhat French appearance. Alexandria is indeed
the Liverpool of the Mediterranean, and here are to be met with ships
and flags of all countries, and men of all costumes. As everywhere
else under Turkish rule, the custom-house business is conducted by
the officers with a good deal of state and formality. A boat from the
shore with the Egyptian flag, rowed by half a dozen or more Arabs, and
containing half as many Turks—sitting in the stern seats, richly dressed,
and wearing the inevitable red fez cap—boarded us. No communication
whatever was allowed to be held with any of the surrounding boats until
they had examined the ship’s papers, and declared us to have a clean
bill of health. I was struck by the dignified appearance of these Turks,
who somewhat resembled Englishmen, both in personal appearance and that
dignified reserve of which, with rare exceptions, the Arabs are devoid.
Rain had fallen heavily for two days previous to our landing, but now the
sun shone out brightly. We put up at Abbat’s Oriental Hotel, one of, if
not the largest in the city, and found at the table-d’hôte an assembly
of travellers of all nations, of whom perhaps the best-looking, and
certainly the best-dressed, were the Greeks. The inhabitants consist
of Turks, Arabs in great variety, Copts, Jews and Greeks, and other
Europeans. The Copts claim to be the only Egyptians. One of them, whom
I found well read in Ancient History and English Literature, told me so
with evident pride—the Arabs, he added, were there only by conquest. The
Copts are, however, a small portion of the inhabitants—resembling, I
think, the gentle-looking Hindoos—somewhat “sicklied o’er with the pale
cast of thought”—and physically inferior to the Arabs. Their religion is
a kind of mongrel Christianity.
Some of the business parts of Alexandria present a European appearance,
but the other parts are crowded, narrow, and decidedly Eastern. The most
remarkable feature in the city is, I think, the number and excellence
of the donkeys—and the Egyptian donkey is really an interesting and
wonderful quadruped. Their speed is excellent, and they are extremely
sure-footed; occasionally, however, some very amusing scenes occur in the
streets, in which the English sailors, turned equestrians, form prominent
actors.
Pompey’s Pillar stands on the sand outside the walls. It is a finely
executed obelisk of red granite, nearly one hundred feet high, on a
pedestal. It seemed about nine feet in diameter, and is covered with
hieroglyphics. Cleopatra’s Needle lies flat upon the sand near to the sea
margin. It is similar to Pompey’s Pillar, but seemed rather smaller, and
is a painful picture of fallen greatness utterly neglected.
There are some European open carriages, but few or no carts or waggons,
almost the whole traffic, both equestrian and of goods, being carried
on the donkeys’ backs, of which the number in the city must be very
large indeed. Passing along one of the streets, I observed a train of
donkeys carrying corn in bags to the harbour for shipment. Except a
very narrow strip at one edge, the street, being entirely formed of mud,
was, in consequence of the recent rains, a perfect puddle. A large bag
filled with corn having fallen from the back of a donkey not so big as
itself, it so bespattered the poor animal with mud right over one eye
that it presented a most ludicrous appearance to the passers-by—standing
stock-still beside the bag, and quite beyond the reach of the boy who
always attends them. The next following donkey and boy passed on,
perfectly regardless of the difficulty, and there the poor donkey stood,
nearly up to his nose in the slime, with a scorching sun overhead, which
quickly dried the mud that bespattered its head to a white colour just
like a great plaster. I never witnessed, even in a pantomime, a more
comic picture. The scene was entirely Egyptian, where no one seems to
consider it necessary to help another in a difficulty; and how long
the poor donkey stood there I cannot tell. It besides exhibited the
extraordinary patience of the Egyptians—donkeys and people. I may here
mention, once for all, that these Eastern donkeys are worthy of a better
name. They are as much superior to the obstinate and stupid donkeys of
this country in breeding as the celebrated Arab horse is to an English
dray one; and though smaller in size—at least those of Egypt—they carry
a much greater burden without complaining. I am surprised that these
animals are not introduced into this country. If acclimatized, they would
be extremely useful in carrying equestrians and traffic generally on
hilly roads, or equally well where there are no roads at all. They are
generally of a light mouse colour, and the boys who have charge of them
pride themselves in keeping their hair cut short and in curious figured
patterns, somewhat in imitation of damask.
Here almost every article is to be had, in the shops near the harbour,
which an Englishman can desire, not excepting “Bass’s Beer” and “Scotch
Whisky,” which I observed nowhere else in the East except at Port Said.
The government of Egypt is thoroughly despotic, and the Arabs, who
form the great bulk of the population, appear to hold a very humble
position—little above that of slavery. All departments of the government
seem to be carried on by command, and in many of them foreigners exercise
control. There are no newspapers, and no public opinion—with the Moslem
Arabs “whatever is, is right,” and nothing seems to occasion resistance,
complaint, or even surprise. Their misfortunes are by the will of
Allah—it is vain to resist fate.
There is a very good story told in the hotels, which, whether true or
not, illustrates this submissive nature well. The railway is much used
by the Arabs and common people. One afternoon a train, when on the eve
of starting from the Alexandria Station for Cairo, was, to make way
for a special train required for some official purpose, temporarily
shunted out of the station into a waggon shed to clear the line. There,
out of sight, it was quickly forgotten, in the bustle of the other
station business of the day. The poor Arabs, by no means unaccustomed
to treatment of this kind, waited patiently till night fell without
complaining, and, submitting to their fate, after duly performing their
sunset devotions, composed themselves to sleep as they best could for the
night—very likely without any supper. Next morning they were discovered
by the railway officials, who meantime had received a telegram from Cairo
asking what had become of that afternoon’s train! Can we imagine such an
absurdity occurring at an English railway station? I suppose here the
station-master would have been made acquainted with the oversight within
as many minutes as the poor Arabs waited hours, and that by a clamour
which he would never have forgotten. There, such a thing _might_ have
happened and no one but the poor passengers have known or inquired,
except perchance some stray traveller in the hotel.
Alexandria has a good English Church, a neat Presbyterian one, and
several Protestant schools. There is an excellent hospital for sick
sailors and others, under the protection of Prussia, and conducted by the
German Protestant Sisters. One of these ladies (Sister Gertrude) visited
England and Scotland a few years ago and made several friends. Having
an introduction forwarded to me from home, I visited the house—a very
good well-aired building, about a mile out of the city. Sister Gertrude
had left for the well-known Fatherland Head Institution, but I received
a welcome from the matron at the head of the establishment, who assured
me that her Sister had spoken with pleasure of the reception she had
received. It was a warm day, and I enjoyed the coolness of the hospital
and its extreme cleanliness after my dusty ride. Such a retreat must
be a real oasis in the desert to many a sick and solitary stranger. I
may here mention that all the Prussian Consulates in the East appear to
foster schools as well as hospitals.
The French influence is evidently suffering an eclipse since the
Franco-German war—perhaps because heretofore too much asserted. The young
everywhere were, I was told, now preferring to learn English instead of
the French language, which hitherto had been taught in almost all classes
of schools along with the native language of the place. Indeed, I saw
many indications that our national popularity in the East generally was
steadily rising—probably because England has always shown the greatest
deference and consideration to the Turkish governments, or perhaps I
should rather say Turkish misrule.
In returning to our hotel I was addressed (somewhat aside) by a
middle-aged, sailor-looking Arab. He spoke a few broken English and
French words, which I did not well comprehend, nor he mine; but I
understood he wished me to engage as a servant for my travels a young man
about eighteen, with a fine open face, very black, but not negro, who
stood a few paces off. He was dressed in a blue cotton sailor’s jacket,
but otherwise like an Arab, and I think he was said to be from Nubia.
On mentioning this circumstance to a gentleman at the hotel, he said
the man was a slave dealer from the south, who was trying to _sell_ me
some of his stolen property! This certainly had not occurred to me at
the time, but it is possible, because such things are, I was told, still
occasionally done—privately of course.
By rail to Cairo, along the Nile Valley, is 130 miles—a most interesting
journey. The engines and plant are English or French make, the fuel being
artificial coal. The villages, “highways,” and irrigation works are
specially novel. In the distance the former seem like large-sized square
huts clustered in groups. They are built of sun-dried bricks, which are
quite as black as and not unlike Scotch peat. This locality is thickly
populated, and we saw in the distance several considerable towns and
numerous villages.
In this delta the Nile is broken into numerous branches. Standing north
and south is a beautiful long line of palms so remarkably uniform as to
give the idea of a vast line of columns of singular architectural merit.
Seen from a distance the illusion was in my eyes perfect, and I have no
doubt the famous Moorish Arch was originally suggested by some such row
of palm trees, not only in its form, but even in its details.
Egypt gets drier and more healthy as we travel inland. There no rain
falls; the soil is sandy, and the temperature so high that vegetable or
animal matters not devoured by the dogs get so quickly dried up that
putrefaction or fermentation is rarely seen. Otherwise the country
would not enjoy the high hygienic repute it does. The Nile water tastes
pleasantly, but after a time many travellers find it necessary to drink
it sparingly.
We stayed about a fortnight in the Grand New Hotel, a very fine
stone building, of great size, and conducted quite in the Parisian
style—cooking somewhat inferior, as also the viands—and here, at the
large table-d’hôte, a citizen of the world is quite at home. The only
other great hotel is Shepherd’s—equally well known. In such a ménagerie
of travellers, one occasionally meets with most desirable company, but
caution and selection are needful, and in this matter our party was
fortunate. The dinner table was too large for general conversation, but
it was carried on partially in groups; and I noticed that while the
adventures of the day—the Nile, the Pyramids, the bazaars, the opera,
and the circus—were all freely discussed, and the dishes of the table
occasionally (but with bated breath), politics, social questions, and
religion were carefully avoided. Just recently the postal system in
Egypt has been made excellent, but then complaints were many and loud.
“I thought I heard you say, sir, that the mails were in this morning.”
“Yes, so they are, for I came from Brindisi along with them.”
“Then we must go and ask for letters at the Consul’s.”
“No,” a third would say, “you need not: the Consul, or his Vice, or
perhaps his Cavasse, or somebody, has got a headache, so the mail bags
cannot be opened till he gets better—I intend inquiring again to-morrow.”
“Any news going? What about Sir Roger?”
“Oh, the case is in court, you know. But I heard in Alexandria last night
that the Governor has resigned, and that the Ministry will be out-voted.”
“Oh! indeed! Ah, well!—a bad job—a telegram—but of course it won’t be
true, you know;” and so on.
Several gentlemen seemed to live there for months spending the time
in a state of luxurious ease, subsisting, as it were, in a “Castle of
Indolence,” and breathing with lazy enjoyment the balmy Egyptian air.
They were to be seen often sauntering under the piazzas, or witnessing
the trick of some conjuror in the outer courtyard, or lounging on
cushions in the large vestibule of the hotel, or listening to the brass
band in the Viceroy’s music garden opposite.
“I say, Jones, just close that curtain another inch, will you? don’t you
see the sun is taking the shine out of me?”
“No, thank you, old boy; I am not lazy, you know, but I was born ‘tired.’”
“Ah! just so, and I suppose you have now got a bone in your arm too;” and
so on, with similar bits of small wit.
The very air of Egypt here suggests repose, and some travellers—after
“doing the Pyramids” and climbing the citadel, where the finest view of
Cairo is to be had—often thus saunter away day after day. Some lounge
in the bazaars, probably on a donkey or in an open carriage, bargaining
for half an hour over some purchase of a few francs’ value, and when
completed all the cheapening is pretty sure to be lost in getting small
change for a sovereign. Gold seems with these Easterns the one supremely
precious thing in the world; and when you despair of obtaining any
article at your offer, the presentation of your purse of gold coins
will sometimes carry the day. To change and exchange other coins _for
gold_ seems a passion with all bankers, bazaar keepers, dragomans, hotel
people, and barbers, as well as the money changers, who sit at almost
every street corner with their case of coins of all nations freely
displayed.
Of course we visited all the “Lions.” Of these the chief are the
Pyramids, which are at first disappointing, as all great things appear
to be, especially when first seen from a distance. But the nearer they
are approached and the longer looked at they seem to swell in size, and
with each new visit their vastness more and more impresses the mind.
There are seventy Pyramids in all, but most of them are of sun-burnt
brick of inferior size and considerably decayed. Seven are situated at
Ghizeh, some seven miles south-west of Cairo on the west of the Nile. The
finest is that of Cheops, of sandstone or limestone, and is evidently
more destroyed by the builders of Cairo than by time, notwithstanding its
immense age. Its height is 480 feet with a square base line of 764 feet;
its sides front to the four cardinal points, and the opening is on its
north face, as indeed is the case with all the Pyramids.[1]
The ascent of the great Pyramid is very exciting and amusing, and by
no means difficult. I think it was our ladies who were first on the
top. The view from its summit is very fine, especially southward, up
the course of that hitherto mysterious Nile as far as the eye can
reach—and that a very small part certainly of its fifteen hundred miles
of sparkling water. The Nile river is unique; instead of increasing in
volume like other rivers as it flows downward, it gradually decreases,
because it receives no additional streams, while—besides its annual
inundation—it constantly enriches with its water all its thirsty banks,
and the hot atmosphere refreshes itself all along that vast length with
its evaporation. On the east the Nile valley is bounded by the white
range of hills bordering the Red Sea, and on the west is a similar range
bordering upon the great African desert of Sahara. In the foreground
of the vast panorama is Cairo, and northward the Delta. How refreshing
the green verdure was to the eye beside the rich warm tints of all else
within its range! The Sphinx, which stands below on the south distant
about 300 feet, is a colossal and very wonderful piece of art, apparently
rising out of the sand, and standing sixty feet high. It should if
possible be seen at sundown when the stars begin to peep out. The face,
with an absorbed mystic expression, gazes _afar off_ up the Nile, and
notwithstanding that it is barbarously defaced by violence, and effaced
by forty centuries of time, the expression of this prince of statues is
altogether most memorable—a singular personification of oracular Wisdom,
Majesty, and Repose.[2]
The numerous mosques of Cairo are interesting, but in general have an
air of dilapidation and decay I did not expect in this great centre.
They have a peculiar picturesque appearance, from their exterior walls
being red and white in horizontal stripes, about ten inches wide. Inside
there is shade, with quietude and repose well befitting the tombs of
royalty—richly gilded—which some of them contain. Our guide Josef,
reverentially approaching a small pedestal, gently moved aside a little
faded silk curtain which covered its sacred surface, and, kneeling down,
devoutly kissed it. This was a piece of rock on which the great prophet
had stood, and he showed me the black mark of his foot, which of course
remains in proof of the fact.
When we got outside I only remarked that Mahomet must have had a very
large and _very hot_ foot! Josef, when I accused him of having neglected
both his noon and sunset prayers on the previous day, explained that the
priest told him that when on duty in our service he might postpone his
devotions till next occasion, if he then performed them in duplicate or
triplicate, which he seriously assured me he had since done! Although a
man approaching to forty, and married, he had, along with the peculiar
cunning of his tribe, the apparent simplicity and openness of a
schoolboy.
The Egyptians are an abstemious people: a pennyworth of rice, and a
“joint” of sugar-cane costing a halfpenny, with perhaps an orange,
and Nile water to drink, may suffice for the day. There is a very
superior orange, somewhat costly, always supplied at the hotel table,
called “Loose Jacket.” It is similar to, but not quite so small as, the
“Mandarin” of Eastern Asia. The bazaar people appear to subsist by slowly
sipping coffee, almost black, out of toy-sized cups, and smoking with
placid enjoyment the never-absent Nargile pipe.
Driving through Cairo in an open carriage and pair is a favourite
enjoyment with English and American travellers. The speed is high for a
city, and before the carriage there runs a tall Arab in his white calico
dress—somewhat scant—flourishing his long arms and a still longer white
rod, and crying aloud to all natives to make way for the man the Pasha
delights to honour; or if not that, something not very dissimilar I
suppose. This is more ludicrous than pleasant, but costs nothing extra;
and in vain you assure your driver that you are in no hurry, and prefer
dispensing with so noisy an “avant coureur.” Even in the bazaars—which
are narrow streets, and always very crowded—every one stands aside, and
a way opens up for your carriage in a marvellously sudden and systematic
way. The same honour does not seem given to riders on horseback, no
matter how well mounted. If you drive out beyond the city, your Arab
footman falls off at the city walls; and when you return—it may be many
hours after—there again he will reappear and probably resume his race and
cry as energetically as before.
Having, by virtue of an order from the Consul (given only for certain
hours one day a week), procured admission into the private gardens of the
Khedive, we obtained a view of the Palace of the Harem. It is a plain
building, of moderate size, with closely latticed windows, and having
a fairy-like erection at some distance behind, into which we entered
through a lofty open arch. In the centre of its quadrangle is a small
lake with a gondola, and at the four corners are luxuriously furnished
rooms or divans, evidently for the use of his Highness and ladies of his
harem. All was built and paved with pure white marble, and in the bright
sunlight presented a scene more like a dream than an everyday reality.
Surrounding the whole was a large garden of beautiful flowers and plants,
gently flowing fountains for irrigation, singing birds in hundreds, and
everything to delight the eye and the ear.
I thought here of Sardanapalus, Mark Antony, and Cleopatra, as well as of
Haroun-al-Raschid. Had I not at last realized the wonders of the “Arabian
Nights’ Entertainments!” But yet the scene was unsatisfactory. Everything
was artificial and confined, and I doubt if the poor ladies within were
as happy amidst this luxurious ease as their sisters in our own land.
After all, the only true type of civilization is the Christian, and its
best evidence the perfect freedom of the gentler sex. As to the beauty of
Eastern females, I believe it is almost all fable. These Cairo beauties
have recently obtained some freedom; they drive through the city in
carriages with glass fronts or curtains—under guard, no doubt—but we got
frequent glimpses of portions of their faces. They seemed insipid—without
character or individuality—and distinguishable mainly by height and age.
They sometimes showed an interest in looking after the English ladies in
our party, and I imagined would willingly have exchanged places. These
Eastern ladies seem to paint their eyebrows and tint their eyelids with
a very faint black shade, evidently with a view of giving the white eyes
more brilliancy by contrast. But we see at home more brilliant eyes
without paint, and certainly more homely, honest, and comely faces.
A Moslem holiday, somewhat akin to Christmas, is celebrated annually
in February. The Khedive or Viceroy drove through the streets in a
grand open carriage; his harem ladies accompanied in another, but were
protected from observation by curtains. There was more than the usual
expenditure of gunpowder on the occasion.
We also gained admission to the Khedive’s Zoological Gardens. The
animals were rare, but not numerous. The ostriches, of which there were
about a dozen, were to us the most interesting. The size of these birds
surprised me, and I can now believe some of the wonderful stories of
their extraordinary swiftness, and even the possibility of their carrying
a rider, if a skilful jockey of sufficient lightness could be found. They
had a very nude appearance, with skin of a much fairer colour than that
of the bipeds of Egypt. Perhaps they had lately lost their feathers,
which are now of great mercantile value.
The city itself is very large, and its bazaars extremely novel and
interesting to a European. They are always crowded, and seem to serve
as a daily social as well as business Exchange, frequented by both
males and matrons. There are several interesting manufactures in silk
and mixed textile fabrics at moderate prices, but I think less so than
those at Damascus, which are somewhat similar but more Eastern. A number
of buildings, with a few fine shops in the Paris style, indicate the
prevalence of French fashions. The Cairo Museum contains many very
curious objects of fabulous antiquity, including a statue of Adam in wood!
The Mosque of the dancing dervishes we visited, and, arriving early, were
received in a large upper room, and entertained with a cup of coffee.
There were in the chapel more than a hundred visitors—mostly strangers.
The worship consisted in the usual devotions, with singing, bowings, and
dancing. Fourteen dervishes or priests I suppose in the centre of the
church commenced to _spin round_ upon their toes and heels, and generally
with outspread arms, at the same time revolving round the fence or ring
on the floor. This they did to music, consisting of pipes, drums, and
I think some stringed instruments. It was monotonous and simple. The
speed at first seemed steadily to increase till the dancers became pale
or livid, and after about twenty minutes they dropped off, evidently
only when nature was perfectly exhausted. They were of various ages—from
twelve to sixty.
The whole ceremonial concluded with prayers, and then genuflexions to
the high priest or sheik, who presided standing upon a bit of carpet on
the margin of the ring, near the prayer-niche in the wall, with his face
towards Mecca. The affair did not excite laughter, as I had expected. It
was in some sense dignified throughout, but left a painful impression
upon the mind. The female worshippers were kept apart in a gallery,
as usual in the Mahomedan churches, and protected from observation
by a latticed screen. The motion of the dancers was twofold, as if
in imitation of that of the planets, one round their own axis, and
one around the ring centre. Whether intentional or not, their several
velocities of revolution were different, as also seemed to be the
diameters of the orbits of their several dances. They threw their heads
back, and were evidently blind as in a trance, although their eyelids
were open, and yet while apparently imminent I noticed no collision.
I presume their worship has no intentional reference to the sun, but
may it not possibly be the remains of some very ancient religious
ceremonial—probably descended from that of the original worship in the
“Temples of the Sun”—evidently the oldest of idolatries?
The hundred mosques and multitudes of minarets of this large city—the
famous bucket well on the citadel—the Nileometer—the Nile bridge—the
Khedive’s wonderful stud of horses—the snake charmers[3]—and all the
other well-known sights—I need not describe.
By rail we visited the site of the ancient royal city of Memphis, about
nine miles south of Cairo. We took good donkeys with us, and were ferried
across the Nile in a passage boat. The well-known wood of palm trees and
the great colossal image of Rameses are the only objects of interest
now remaining of this the former residence of the Egyptian kings. This
ancient statue—perhaps the finest in Egypt—is a beautifully finished
piece of sculpture, sixty feet high, in bluish black granite, and lies
prostrate in the mud, but in perfect preservation, as fresh looking as if
finished the previous day!
Returning by the western bank of the Nile, we—with several other
travellers from our hotel—had a most amusing donkey race upon the sands
northwards viâ the Pyramids of Ghizeh to Cairo. This valley seems one
vast graveyard: numerous finely built tombs have been, and are still from
time to time being uncovered; and near the locality is the famous temple
containing “the tombs of the sacred bulls.” It is a large underground
cavern cut out of the soft rock, and contains empty sarcophagi—I think
about ten in number, each large enough to contain a live prize ox—cut
out of an immense block of black granite, beautifully polished and
covered with hieroglyphics. Even in this nineteenth century, with all our
appliances, these would be considered works of high art and engineering
skill. As to labour, the expenditure must have been immense.
Heliopolis stands north of Cairo, and about eighteen miles distant from
Memphis. The drive from Cairo is along a fine wide road, lined on both
sides with large healthy trees, carefully irrigated, whose branches meet
overhead, and form the longest and finest natural arch I have ever seen.
It reminded me of a similar one at Drummond Castle in Scotland, but this
seemed much wider and loftier.
Heliopolis is said to be the site of the most ancient city of Egypt. It
is otherwise called On and sometimes Noph; but nothing remains of it
except a fine obelisk of granite covered with hieroglyphics, and about
sixty-five feet high: perhaps there is no column still standing erect
of greater antiquity. There was here a great Temple of the Sun, and
the patriarch Joseph’s wife is mentioned as a daughter of a priest or
prince of On. In New Testament times it is said to have been the retreat
of Joseph and Mary with the infant Jesus. A very aged tree—I think a
sycamore, of large size—and a well of excellent water, are still shown in
connexion with that event. The country around seemed rich and fertile.
I do not propose giving any general description of Egypt and the Nile,
although the subject is an extremely rich and interesting one. But before
leaving it, I must remark that one is very much struck by the evidence
everywhere around of progress and improvement, mercantile, agricultural,
mechanical, and social, although probably not all judiciously carried
on. The Khedive is Egypt, and Egypt is the Khedive—the claim of Turkey
to the sovereignty being now very little more than a name. The present
Viceroy is an impulsive man of extraordinary energy, and evidently aims
at making Cairo an Eastern Paris, which he will very soon do if money
do not fail him. But Egypt has less need of French opera-dancers and
experimental engineers than of sugar-crushing machinery and irrigation
works, neither of which, however, it must be allowed, has he neglected.
But it appeared to me that by an ample and judicious extension of the
latter the rich crops of the Nile valley might be doubled, and especially
of sugar-cane, flax, and cotton.
The irrigation works are extremely important and admit of indefinite
extension. When the Nile falls below the “high level” the country assumes
the appearance of being cut up by a series of narrow irregular canals of
different levels. The irrigation is carried on by numerous water mills or
pumps which are worked by oxen, donkeys, and camels. Their construction
is remarkably primitive and defective. Their snail, treadmill-like pace
is a picture of waste, and the work done seemed not to exceed one-third
of the power expended. This is inexcusable, because mechanical power of
advanced construction is in general use by the Egyptian Government in
almost all other departments. Much of the irrigation, however, is done by
water-drawers whose energetic and efficient action it is pleasant to see,
being just the reverse of that of the quadrupeds. With a light bucket
having two cords attached, two young Arabs by alternate plunges and
upward jerks raised water nearly ten feet, from a lower channel level to
the higher, and seemed to continue with singular steadiness at the rate
of some twenty bucketfuls a minute, even with a scorching sun overhead.
Ladies of the middle and upper classes are never seen unless veiled—all
except the eyes and part of the nose—in a most unbecoming fashion. They
are enveloped in a loose robe of pure black or white, covering the head
and partially fastened at the neck; under this they seem to wear some
kind of jacket or dress of rich-looking silk, green or other bright
colour, and this, with loose leather slippers, constitutes their outward
dress. Most frequently they ride on donkeys, and consequently on the
dusty roads their feet appear in disadvantageous contrast with their
spotless dress otherwise. They seem notable housewives at bargain-making
in the bazaars, otherwise I never noticed them speak to a male, and no
male speaks to them in public. Generally speaking I saw no “beautiful old
women” anywhere after crossing the English Channel eastward—such as are
frequently met with at home. The Bedouin women are rarely veiled, the
girls are employed in degrading menial work, such as serving as mason’s
labourers; and I was very much shocked to see a number of them carrying
wet mortar on their backs up to a building in a piece of cloth, with the
water running down their dress, which consisted apparently of only a
frock of blue cotton cloth.
The handsomeness of the Bedouin women has often been noticed—brought our
very much by their habit of carrying water jars upon their heads, and
also frequently upon their shoulders. The married women frequently so
carry their babies from a very early age. Sitting astride the mother’s
shoulder, and holding on by resting one arm upon her head, they quickly
learn to sit with safety and extreme freedom. This habit gives excellent
training to the eye, the muscles, and the lungs, and in the open air
of Egypt the little ones seem to thrive immensely. Besides, the mother
does not appear much hampered in her movements, and carries on her daily
avocations with singular facility.
We would gladly have visited Upper Egypt and its ruins. Besides
steamboats there are excellent commodious vessels from Cairo which go
south as far as the first cataracts, but as the voyage often takes about
six weeks, we found that this might detain us too late, and interfere
with our other plans. The voyage is tiresome to some travellers, but to
sportsmen very enjoyable, and I believe those who study ease and care
for a good table may make it more pleasant than the new hotel.
Here we were beset with overtures from dragomans for our Palestine and
Syria travels, and after an amusing amount of talk, pro and con., we
agreed upon terms with a Syrian, named Braham, who spoke English, French,
Turkish, Syrian, and Arabic, and, I think, Italian, all as printed upon
his card—and then his testimonials, which he insisted upon our reading,
showed him to be a man of matchless ability, probity, and good fortune.
With him, travellers were safe from all evils, and then his equipments
were in a style of unequalled completeness and perfection. Were not his
referees Sir Moses Montefiore, bankers from America and England, and had
he not conducted even a marquis and his spiritual director, Monsignor
Capel? The terms and conditions of a treaty of travel were accordingly
drawn up, and again read over to both parties, and signed and sealed
with all the formalities of a national league, by and in presence of
H.B.M. Consul at Cairo. Everything new—new tents and new beds, horses
and donkeys, with harness, provisions, hotel bills, and bakshish were
provided—everything necessary, in short, for a consideration—somewhat
heavy—and payable in gold. We agreed upon a fixed sum per week for our
party of four for a specified time, commencing on our arrival at Jaffa,
and ending on our embarkation homewards, but leaving us to determine at
pleasure our own routes and mode of travel anywhere in Palestine and
Syria. In short, we were to have the fullest power—to have our own choice
in everything. Braham was only to hear and obey!
It really was so throughout the journey. We found him all he professed;
but when we differed in opinion, Braham always showed us—and convinced
us against our will—that our plan was either impracticable or highly
dangerous, and, in point of fact, we found that his way was always the
best. Although the terms of the treaty were strictly carried out by both
the contracting parties, the choice so left with us was in practice very
much a dead letter. On the whole, however, I can safely recommend our
Syrian as an A 1 dragoman in every respect. Dressed in his turban, his
professional Damascus striped shawl, with the orthodox tassels, and Cairo
divining-rod in hand, he looked quite the character. The business of
dragoman is a special one, requiring education and habits of a superior
order. Braham stood high in his profession, and, although careful not to
show it, was, I think, a man of substance.
After a residence in Cairo of about a fortnight, we proceeded to
Palestine, viâ Port Said, which is the new shipping port of the Suez
Canal upon the Mediterranean, and presents a somewhat lively scene.
During our stay there we sailed up the Canal a short distance, for the
purpose of inspection; however undoubted the utility of this great Canal,
it is entirely devoid of beauty, the banks being high mounds of mud
and sand, without a single spot of vegetation, and from the deck of our
boat they entirely concealed the country on both sides. Sporting in the
Canal, we saw a good many fish somewhat resembling our porpoises in their
gambols, and which the sailors called “Black Jacks”—I understood they had
come up from the Red Sea.
In now leaving Egypt I did so with considerable hope of her future.
Recent events have proved the sad waste of money, but unlike Turkey there
is something to show in the shape of improvements and public works of
utility which more or less tend to enrich the country. Nothing seems
wanting except honest administration of the revenue and a personal
supervision by the Khedive of his expenditure. The Government if despotic
is supreme, and there is not only safety for all, but even a considerable
degree of religious liberty.
[Illustration]