Mr Percy Marvale, in the mean time, had not been idle at Howkey. He had
established himself in the house, in spite of all the sour looks and
short answers Mr Smith could bestow on him. All his attempts at a
lodgment were aided by the invitations of Sibylla, whether conveyed in
words or in untranslatable smiles and glances. An instantaneous
friendship was established between him and the younger branches; and
from some of the children, who came down to see their papa, and
congratulate him on his return, he picked out a great mass of
information about the affairs of the nursery and school-room. There
certainly was as a governess--young, pretty, and very shy--exactly such
as he supposed Miss Elstree would be; and his hopes were further raised
by learning that her name was Alice. His next object was to see her--to
speak to her, if possible--and satisfy himself of her identity; for, as
the information contained in Frank's letter did not emanate from
himself, and he had not even been admitted by his principal to a
knowledge of its contents, he was not inclined to believe that the
discovery could be made without him.
By dint of remaining at Howkey till it was impossible for Old Smith to
avoid asking the friend of his preserver to stay all night, he managed
to make good his quarters on the ground of his operations, and resolved
to commence proceedings as early as possible in the morning. Sibylla lay
awake half the night, revolving all the strange speeches he had made
her--his allusions to the hidden treasure in the house--the lost star--
the incognito goddess--and tracing in all his fine expressions one
paramount idea of his anxiety to make himself master of a perfect
paragon of beauty and romance, she could not avoid coming to the
conclusion, that these were all metaphorical declarations of attachment
to herself. And, on the following day, her manner had derived so much
_empressement_ from these cogitations, that all the efforts of Monimia
on the imperturbable Frank were cast into the shade by the extraordinary
evolutions of the sentimental Sibylla.
"Gads!" said Mr Percy Marvale to himself, "this beats the Surrey all to
sticks. He must be shockingly rich"--he thought, looking round the
splendidly furnished drawing-room; "I'll see if I can't do a little
business on my own account, as well as Mr Edwards's."
"You've heard what I have been asking you, madam, about an undiscovered
jewel in this elegant abode? Pity it should be left to the dimness of
the rural shades!"
"Alas!" said Sibylla, casting down her eyes in modest embarrassment, "it
is little fitted to meet the eye of the world."
"It needs a fresh setting, that's all; and they say there's an exquisite
silversmith on the Scottish border. The railway brings him within twenty
hours."
A few arguments _pro_ and _con_--a few blushes--a few quotations from
the love scenes of the Surrey, and it was finally arranged. At three,
they were to meet at the foot of the lane, where a chaise was to be in
waiting; and Frank Edwards was left by his faithless assistant to look
after Alice Elstree for himself.
The village of Wibbleton had not slept all night for thinking of the new
inhabitant of the _cottage ornée_; and the landlord of the Rose and
Crown had not been backward in singing the praises of his generosity and
riches.
"Them Chobbs has cotch another pigeon," said the hostler to the boots;
"and a rare good thing they makes of that 'ere old house. The last
tenant paid 'em two years's rent in forfeit; and this 'un will do the
same."
"They are the bullyingest, meanestest, lyingest fellies as ever I heard
of," replied the boots. "Tom Chobbs, the eldest one, owes me no end of
money; but there aint no use asking it, for the whole kit on them--the
lawyer, the doctor, and the old corporal, his stepfather--would all
swear they had seen him pay it."
"They'll be found out some day, and the village cleared of them,"
replied the hostler; "and if they're in want of rope, I'll not grudge
ere a halter in the stable."
"But there he goes, poor young gentleman!--they'll not leave him a
farden of money if they get him into their clutches."
This pitying observation was made as Frank Edwards crossed over from the
hotel, and knocked at the door of the great house, to pay his respects
to The Chobb. Before he left the hotel, the landlord, with many
apologies, had presented his bill for the dinner of the day before,
which the military gentleman had forgotten to discharge. The door was
opened, and he was shown into a parlour on the ground floor, and told to
sit down till his arrival was announced.
"Maister's just a-coming, sir," said the slipshod maid, again putting
her head into the parlour where Frank was sitting; and in a few minutes
The Chobb, the general, the lawyer, and the medical man, walked into the
room.
"I must say, sir," said The Chobb, touching his hat slightly, which he
kept on while he spoke, "that this is rather extraordinary conduct, and
needs explanation."
"What do you allude to, sir? You asked me to call, and I now wait on
you."
"But you have not apologised, sir, nor rectified the mistake, if it
_was_ a mistake," he added, looking for support to the general.
"If it _was_ a mistake!" repeated that distinguished commander, looking
very stiff and solemn.
"Appearances are against it," chimed in the lawyer.
"What is it all about, gentlemen?" enquired Frank Edwards, biting his
lip.
"All about this, sir," replied The Chobb. "I am a gentleman, and I was
in hopes any tenant of mine would be a gentleman also; but when you
descend to such conduct as, in presence of these parties, you did last
night--there is no excuse for it--even the state of intoxication you
were in is no excuse--no excuse for it at all."
"No excuse for it at all!" repeated the general, looking stately and
solemn, as before.
"Perhaps the gentleman did it for a joke, and will make it good,"
suggested the benevolent lawyer.
"Oh, that's a different matter!" said The Chobb, slightly relaxing; "and
if the gentleman withdraws it, and replaces the sum correctly, I am the
last man in the world to find fault with a harmless pleasantry."
"As I don't know what you mean,"--Frank began.
"Oh, let me explain it!" interposed the general. "You offered last night
to pay my step-son, Colonel Chobb, a month's rent of your _cottage orné_
in advance. He agreed to accept it, and the ten-pound note with which
you discharged the amount turns out to be a flash note on the Bank of
Fashion. These are the simple facts. I regret to state that appearances
are against you."
"We do not know you, you will observe," said the lawyer. "And my
brother, Colonel Chobb, is always a great deal too careless in money
matters. He should not have let you the cottage without a reference."
"You also raised a slight suspicion by your attempt at a wrangle on the
guinea stakes," added the medical man.
"I am bound to say," observed the general, "that it would have an
awkward appearance in a court of justice."
"But"--
"Oh, you need not deny it!" said The Chobb. "I hate roundabout stories.
I am a gentleman. Was it a joke or not? Will you pay me a good ten-pound
note or not?"
"Where is this note?"
"It is in the hands of my children's governess. I have lodged it with
her for security, and gain her evidence if, unfortunately, the business
goes further."
"Gentlemen," said Frank, "before I answer you, I must insist on seeing
the lady, and the note exactly in the state it now is."
"Certainly! nothing can be fairer," said the general. "I will conduct
you to the school-room at once."
"I should like, if you please, to be paid for these documents first,"
said the lawyer. "The agreement stamp is very high."
"And, as short accounts make long friendships," said the medical man, "I
should like to receive my fee for attendance."
"What attendance, sir?" said Frank, whom even the approaching interview
with Alice could scarcely keep cool.
"I visited you professionally at the inn yesterday, sir, and sat by your
side till nearly twelve o'clock. Time with a medical man is money; and I
think my demand moderate at five guineas."
"Very moderate, indeed!" said The Chobb. "Sir Henry Halford would have
charged you five times the sum for half the time."
"But I never called this skilful physician in," said Frank, amazed in
spite of himself.
"Didn't you? But here comes General Hosham. General Hosham, did this
gentleman call me in professionally yesterday?"
"Most assuredly he did," replied the general. "I have a perfect
recollection of the fact; but perhaps he may confuse it with something
else. I thought I heard the name of Sir Henry Halford. He did not call
_him_ in. If I might advise, as an older man than any of you, and a
mutual friend of both parties, I would suggest that this gentleman had
better at once pay my step-son, George--Dr Chobb--five pounds--pounds
instead of guineas--a compromise is always best between friends. Pay him
the money, my good sir, and come up with me to the school-room."
A five-pound note instantly covered the doctor's face with smiles, and
two tens had the same effect upon the lawyer's.
"Now, sir," he said, "I go with you;" and, preceded by the general, he
went up a narrow flight of stairs.
"The French and Italian lessons are over," said the general, "and the
music is not yet begun." He opened a door, and, at the farther end of
the room, a young woman, with extraordinary breadth of back, was busy
over a large washing-tub, in the act of wringing a child's shirt. Five
or six dirty children were sewing and knitting, in different parts of
the room, and Frank looked round, enquiringly, to discover Alice
Elstree.
"This is the young lady that keeps the note," said the general. "Miss
M'Screigh, you have the evidence?"
"Tiel a toot!" said the lady thus appealed to in a broad Highland
accent, turning round from her labours, and displaying a countenance as
strongly redolent of Aberdeenshire as her tongue.
But Frank would wait for no further parley. He passed rapidly down
stairs, but was waylaid at the foot of them by The Chobb in person.
Frank was endowed with prodigious strength, and favoured the head of the
distinguished family with a dig in the ribs, that left him in the
condition of an exhausted air receiver.
"That's enough--assault and battery," said the philanthropist; "swinging
damages at the next assizes, and a comfortable bill of costs."
But Frank, regardless of Chobbs and assizes, pursued his way. He kicked
the crazy door open, and was rejoiced to find himself in the open air.
His progress through the village had not been unobserved by other eyes
besides those of the hostler and boots of the Rose and Crown. There was
a low thatched cottage on the opposite side of the road from the
residence of The Chobb; clusters of white roses clambered in all
directions over the wall, and the little lawn in front was tastefully
laid out, and the turf and shrubs kept in perfect order. Along the
gravel walks of this little lawn, walked slowly, as if in infirm health,
a middle-aged lady, leaning for support on the arm of a tall and
graceful girl; and ever and anon she turned on her companion's suffering
face a look of such love and sweetness--it was sure to create a smile
even on the wan lips of the invalid. That girl's eyes had rested on
Frank Edwards as he passed--a red flush had crossed her brow--a
whiteness, as of death, had come upon her cheek--and, leading the elder
lady with tottering steps to the garden bower, she had sat down beside
her, and covered her face with her hands, and burst into tears.
At the moment Frank Edwards emerged into the road, he was nearly jammed
against the railings in front of the thatched cottage, by the rapid
approach of a post-chaise. While he looked in at the window, the wheel
dipped into a rut, the axle instantaneously broke, and the body of the
carriage bumped upon the ground. In an instant he had secured the
horses, and the Chobb family, rushing out, advanced to the door of the
vehicle. With some difficulty the passengers were extracted, and
consisted of a tall dark-complexioned gentleman, with mustaches, looking
as sheepish and uncomfortable as possible.
"What! Marvale!" exclaimed Frank, "What has brought you here? and who is
the lady beside you?"
"Hush, my dear sir, she's in a faint."
"Why, William," cried the philanthropic attorney, "do you pretend not to
know us?"
"Ah! how d'ye do, George--ha'n't seen you a long time," said Percy
Marvale, looking contemptuously at the lawyer.
"You look very grand with these mustaches," continued George; "your own
father would scarcely know you."
"Is the old snob alive, then?" enquired the dutiful son.
"To be sure, and here he's coming. General Hosham, here's Bill come back
again."
"Has he brought back the watch and spoons?" enquired the affectionate
father; "if not, I'll have him up for the theft."
The fainting lady had been carried in the mean time by the villagers
into the thatched cottage, and into it Frank also proceeded to watch
over her recovery. Two ladies were bending over her; and, on Frank's
approach, the elder one looked up. The younger one also saw him. There
was nothing more needed than that look. Frank took a hand of each. There
was an end of his uncertainties. It was Alice Elstree and her mother.
While the recognitions were going on outside, and Sibylla was slowly
recovering, a phaeton had driven rapidly up, and Old Smith and his son
had jumped out, and laid violent hands on Percy Marvale's collar.
"You villain, you ruffian, you swindler!" began my old friend out of
breath.
"Actionable!" observed the philanthropic attorney. "I'll take down his
words."
"Where is my daughter, sir?"
"I don't know. I--that is--my friend Edwards"--
"What has he to do with it, sir?"
"I should say, sir," said General Hosham, advancing in a most polite
manner, and lifting his hat--"that it is probable the person alluded to
by my son is guilty of the crime, whatever it is you now charge my boy
with. The person has gone into that cottage, and you can arrest him on
the spot."
"Oho!" said Mr Smith, "I think I recollect your faces, my fine fellows.
Haven't we met at the quarter sessions? Was not there some rumour about
your extorting money from a tenant a year or two ago, by threats of
accusing him of passing a forged note?"
The general made a stately bow, and The Chobb himself, who had joined
the crowd, felt crestfallen, and limped back again into the house.
In the cottage all things proceeded favourably. Frank Edwards, with an
adroitness that would have done honour to the hero of one of Percy
Marvale's melodramas, assured the angry father that Sibylla had come, at
his special request, to act as companion to his bride, and consult as to
the preparations for the approaching wedding. And on that same evening
Sibylla and Frank accompanied Mrs Elstree and her daughter to my house,
where it was arranged they were to remain for three weeks or a month,
till the ceremony took place.
A HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE CANAL WHICH CONNECTED THE NILE AND THE RED
SEA IN ANCIENT TIMES.
The questions relating to the different lines of communication between
Europe and India have been so frequently discussed of late, and such a
mass of ill-digested information on the subject has been printed, that
we shall not plunge into any discussion relating to the conflicting
opinions of the moderns, but proceed, without preface, to supply an
accurate history of the ancient canal which connected the Nile with the
Red Sea.[1] We are satisfied that any exact knowledge of what actually
existed in former times, and the precise object of the ancient
undertaking, are necessary, in order to form sound conclusions
concerning the future.
[1] For modern information, we refer our readers to the Reports on Steam
Navigation with India. Ordered by the House of Commons to be printed.
14th July 1834, and 15th July 1837.
This canal, like every other in Egypt, had its origin in the formation
of a canal for irrigation, caused by an increased demand for arable
land, in consequence of the augmentation of the population. It was, in
its origin, one of the numerous canals which spread the waters of the
Nile for the irrigation of the land of Egypt.
The country between the Mediterranean and the Red Sea is intersected in
its longitude by a valley, which commences at Suez and joins the lake
Menzaleh and the eastern mouth of the Nile. The level of the Red Sea is
considerably higher than that of the Mediterranean. The difference at
high water is about thirty-two feet, six inches; and this difference is
seldom less than twenty-five feet, even at low water. The whole of this
valley would be inundated, and the waters of the Red Sea would flow into
the Mediterranean, through a series of lakes, were it not for a strong
embankment of elevated sand which forms the shore at Suez.
The existence of the bitter lakes in the lower levels of this valley
induced Aristotle,[1] and many of the ancients, to believe that Africa
had once been an island--Egypt having been separated from Syria and
Arabia by the union of the Red Sea and the Mediterranean. Colonel Leake,
in his map of Egypt, observes, "that there is no material obstacle to a
communication by lakes and inundations from Suez to the lake Menzaleh,
and to Tineh--by which Africa would become an island." And some
observations on the formation of a canal in this valley, will be found
in the _Mémoire sur la communication de la Mer des Indes à la Méditerranée
par la Mer Rouge et l'Isthme de Soueys_, in the great French work on
Egypt.[2]
[1] Meteorologica, i. 14.
[2] Chap. iii. § iii. and iv. p. 60 of the _Mémoire_.
The valley running from Suez to Tineh is joined, about halfway between
the Red Sea and the Mediterranean, by another valley called Seba Biar,
which meets it at right angles, stretching in latitude from the
elevated ground on the right bank of the eastern branch of the Nile.
The valley of Seba Biar was the land of Goshen.[1] When this district
is first mentioned in history, it consisted of a low level, liable to
partial inundation, and affording good pasturage, though hardly suited
to regular cultivation. For this reason, and from its vicinity to
Syria, it was given by Joseph to the children of Israel, who were a
pastoral tribe. Though Joseph was the prime minister of the country,
under a dynasty of foreign conquerors--the Hyksos or Nomad Arabs--still
the laws and usages of a dense native population placed such restraint
on the sovereign's power, that the Israelites, being a race of
shepherds, would not be mixed with the Egyptians, or put in possession
of any arable land. On this account, Joseph told his father and
brethren to say to the king--"Thy servants' trade hath been about
cattle from our youth even until now, both we and also our fathers;
that ye may dwell in the land of Goshen: for every shepherd is an
abomination unto the Egyptians."[2]
[1] On this point D'Anville, Gosselin, and Major Rennell agree.
[2] Genesis, xlvi. 34.
Yet, with this restraint on his power, Joseph succeeded in effecting
the greatest change in the condition of the Egyptians which any nation
ever submitted to in peace. As vizier of the country, he converted the
property of all the agricultural class from a freehold inheritance into
a lease from government, at a rent of one-fifth of the produce of the
land.[1] The project was doubtless adopted to augment the revenues of
the crown, for the purpose of improving the irrigation, and augmenting
the produce and population of Egypt. We know that it made the race of
Egyptians a race of warriors and conquerors, until it exhausted their
resources; and then, by placing the property of the people at the mercy
of the government, is prepared the way for the extermination of the
native Egyptian or Coptic population.
[1] Genesis, xlvii. 18-26.
The Nomads, or Hyksos, were driven from the throne of Egypt by the kings
of Thebes, a native race; and under their government the prosperity and
population of the country rapidly increased. The demand for land capable
of cultivation became immense. Moeris constructed the wonderful
artificial lake, for the purpose of regulating the inundation, and
augmenting the productive powers of Egypt, which was always regarded as
one of the most extraordinary undertakings of man. Monsieur Linant has
lately discovered the traces of this lake, and has shown that it was
formed by making embankments round a high level, from which the waters
could be drawn off for irrigation. The absurd opinion of many travellers
and geographers, that the _Birket-el-Karaun_, a salt lake in a deep
natural basin, was the lake of Moeris, is therefore completely exploded;
that lake could never have been any thing but a cess-pool for the
superabundant waters of the lake Moeris, and a sink for the waste waters
of the Nile.
When land became of so great value in Egypt as to cause such vast
undertakings to be made for improving its fertility as the formation of
the lake Moeris, it is not to be supposed that the Egyptians would
overlook the capabilities of the land of Goshen. The Israelites were
regarded with no favourable eye. They had been the friends of the
foreign rulers of the land; and, consequently, both the people and the
native princes declared against them, and resolved to drive them from
the territory they occupied.[1] This was effected in the reign of
Amenoph II., after they had remained in Egypt 430 years.[2]
[1] Exodus, i. 8, 9.
[2] Exodus, xii. 40.
At the time of the exodus, therefore, it is evident that no canal could
have existed in the valley of Goshen. The population of Israelites and
Nomads, however, which dwelt on the confines of the irrigable land, must
have been very great; as the Hebrews alone exceeded 600,000 souls, and
they were accompanied by "a mixed multitude," which is the phrase used
in Scripture to designate the nomad Arabs. But though no canal existed
at this period, we find evidence that a considerable trade in the
produce of Egypt was already carried on through this district, caused by
the want of agricultural produce in Arabia; and this trade induced the
Egyptians to "guild for Pharaoh treasure-cities, Pithom and Raamses."[1]
[1] Compare Genesis, xlvii. 11, Exodus, i. 11, and xii. 37.
As soon as the children of Israel were driven out of the land of Goshen,
the new occupants would naturally commence the formation of a canal, for
irrigating the land they had gained. Now, a great part of the valley of
Seba Biar is lower than the level of the Nile at the height of the
inundation, this was easily done. A canal from the eastern branch of the
river, near Bubastes, did not require to be cut to a greater distance
than seven miles, in order to allow the waters to fill the valley. By
this operation, the irrigation could have been carried as far as the
northern boundary of the bitter lakes, between Suez and the
Mediterranean; and at least 20,000 acres of land gained for agricultural
purposes. This irrigation would extend itself to the Serapeion--a
distance of about forty-five miles from Bubastes, and about forty from
the Red Sea.
Let us now observe the chronology of the events we have already
noticed. Without pretending to offer any opinion on the disputed
questions of Egyptian chronology, we shall adopt the dates given by Dr
Nolan in his memoir on the use of the ancient cycles in settling the
differences of chronologists, published in the Transactions of the
Royal Society of Literature.[1] It must be observed, that the 430 years
of the sojourning of the children of Israel in Egypt is to be computed
from the call of Abraham, and not from the going down of Israel, as is
explained by St Paul in the Epistle to the Galatians, chap. iii. v.
17.[2]
[1] Vol. iii. p. 2.
[2] Josephus, Antiquit. Jud. ii. 15, 2; Clinton's Fasti Hellenici,
i. 297.
The administration of Joseph occurred during the reign of
the last king of the race of the Hyksos, B.C. 1687
The reign of Mephres, or Moeris, B.C. 1538
The exodus occurred in the year B.C. 1492
The Egyptians enjoyed a long period of prosperity after they had driven
out the Israelites. Their national history, during a period of four
hundred years, is recorded on their monuments; and, though not very
intelligible in its details, it affords irrefragable proof that their
country was always in a flourishing condition, and possessed a
considerable commerce with other nations. The Egyptians, however, had as
great an aversion to foreign traders as to shepherds; and it was long
before they undertook any work for improving their commercial
communications. At length, however, the canal, which had been carried as
far as the longitudinal valley between the Red Sea and the
Mediterranean, began to excite their attention as affording a cheap
means of transport for that portion of the produce of the country which
was purchased by the inhabitants of Arabia and of the shores of the Red
Sea. We have the testimony of Aristotle, Strabo, and Pliny, that the
project of forming a canal to unite the Nile with the Red Sea was
entertained by Sesostris.[1] Aristotle says, "that Egypt, the most
ancient seat of mankind, was formed by the river Nile, as appears from
the examination of the country bordering on the Red Sea. One of the
ancient kings attempted to form a navigable communication between the
river and the sea; but Sesostris, finding that the waters of the Red
Sea were higher than those of the Nile, both he and Darius, after him,
desisted from the attempt, lest the lower part of the delta should be
inundated with salt water." It is extremely difficult to ascertain what
king is meant by Sesostris, since that name seems to have been given by
the Greeks to more that one of the distinguished monarchs of the
country. Aristotle, however, clearly refers in his account to the king
he calls Sesostris, and to an earlier monarch. The one may have been
Sethosis, who reigned about B.C. 1291, and the other, Sesonchis of
Bubastes, the Shishac of Scripture, in the year B.C. 976. These
sovereigns may have converted the canal of irrigation into a regular
commercial route; and the last may have commenced the greater work of
connecting it with the bitter lakes. The fear of inundating the Delta
with salt water, by cutting through the northern shore of the Red Sea,
and allowing a communication with the bitter lakes to remain always
open, has been shown by the French engineers, whose report is printed
in the great work on Egypt, to be no idle fear.[2]
[1] Arist. Meteorol. i. 14. Strabo, lib. i. c. 2, vol. i. p. 60; lib.
xvii. c. 1, vol. iii. 443.--Ed. Tauch. Plinii Natur. Hist., lib. vi. 33.
[2] _Mémoire sur la communication de la Mer des Indes à la Méditerranée,
par la Mer Rouge et l'Isthme de Soueys, par_ M.J.M. Le Père.
Several circumstances combine to show that the completion of the canal,
and the importance of opening a direct navigable communication between
the Nile and the Red Sea, must have occupied more particularly the
attention of Sesonchis than of the preceding kings. He was a native of
Bubastes; and the seat of his power was in the Delta. The importance of
this navigation for enriching his fellow-citizens, and placing the
whole trade of the Delta, to the eastward, under his control, was
evident; but the great wealth which might be gained from sharing in the
trade on the Red Sea, was also forced on his attention, by the immense
riches which Solomon had been able to accumulate on acquiring a share
in this trade, which had been previously in the hands of the
Phoenicians. Solomon had extended the trade he carried on in the Red
Sea, by means of the ports on the gulf of Eloth, (Ailath,) far beyond
its former bounds.[1] Now, as the grain and provisions, required for
supplying the fleets in the Red Sea, and the greater part of the
commercial population on its coasts, must have been drawn from Egypt by
the port of Suez, and as Egypt must have afforded one of the most
valuable markets for the produce of Arabia and India, it is not
surprising that Sesonchis made great endeavours to obtain a share in a
branch of commerce from which he had seen Solomon derive such wealth.
From some reason, he abandoned the project of completing the canal to
Suez; but, in order to secure a portion of Solomon's riches, he invaded
Judea, and plundered Jerusalem.[2] "So Shishak king of Egypt came up
against Jerusalem: and he took away the treasures of the house of the
Lord, and the treasures of the king's house; he even took away all: and
he carried away all the shields of gold which Solomon had made." That
this Shishak, or Sesonchis of Bubastes, was the Sesostris alluded to by
Aristotle, Strabo, and Pliny, though it cannot perhaps be positively
proved, can nevertheless hardly admit of a doubt.
[1] I Kings, ix. 26; 2 Chronicles, viii. 17.
[2] I Kings, xiv. 27; 2 Chronicles, xii. 2.
Thus far we have only been able to draw a few inferences relating to the
canal, from historical facts connected with the subject; but from this
period we become furnished with materials for a consecutive history.
Herodotus is the earliest author who affords direct testimony of the
completion of the canal, and its employment for carrying on a navigable
communication between the Nile and the Red Sea. His description requires
to be cited in his own words, in order to testify the sagacity of his
enquiries and the accuracy of his information. "Psammetichus had a son,
whose name was Nekos. This prince first commenced that canal leading to
the Red Sea, which Darius, king of Persia, afterwards continued. The
length of the canal is equal to a four days' voyage, and it is wide
enough to admit two triremes abreast. The water enters it from the Nile,
a little above the city of Bubastes. It terminated in the Red Sea, not
far from Patumos, an Arabian town. In the prosecution of this work,
under Nekos, no less than 120,000 Egyptians perished. He at length
desisted from his undertaking, being admonished by an oracle, that all
his labour would turn to the advantage of a barbarian." As soon as Nekos
discontinued his labours with respect to the canal, he turned all his
thoughts to military enterprise. He built vessels of war, both on the
Mediterranean and in that part of the Arabian gulf which is near the Red
Sea.[1]
[1] Herod. book ii. § 158. Beloe's Translation, vol. i. p. 411.
This statement of Herodotus is confirmed by Diodorus Siculus, another
Greek historian, who had visited Egypt, and, like Herodotus, paid great
attention to its history and antiquities. The words of Diodorus are--"A
canal has been dug from the Pelusiac branch of the Nile to the gulf of
Arabia and the Red Sea. It was commenced by Nekos, son of Psammetichus,
and afterwards continued by Darius, king of the Persians, who made some
progress with the work, but abandoned it when he learned that, if the
isthmus was dug through, all Egypt would be inundated, as the level of
the Red Sea is higher than that of the soil of Egypt. At last Ptolemy
II. (Philadelphus) completed the undertaking; having adapted an
ingenious contrivance to the ingress of the canal, which was opened when
a vessel was about to enter, and afterwards closed. Experience proved
the utility of this invention. The waters which flow in this canal are
called the river of Ptolemy, the king who executed this great work. The
town of Arsinöe is constructed at its mouth."[1]
[1] Diodorus Siculus, i. 33. Nekos reigned B.C. 616 to 601. See also 2
Kings, chap. xxiii. ver. 29.
It must be recollected that Diodorus wrote about four hundred years
after Herodotus; and his information concerning the earlier events, from
want of precision, appears to be deficient in accuracy. These two
passages make it evident that Nekos had commenced some great
improvements on the canal of Sesostris; and it appears to have been his
intention to have made use of it in order to secure a naval superiority
in the Red Sea. It is plain, too, from the statement of Herodotus, that
Darius had completed the canal, in so far as that was possible, without
the invention of locks, for forming an immediate communication with the
Red Sea. And from the account of Diodorus, it seems that he viewed the
canal of Darius, which for ages had served for a commercial route, as
incomplete; because the actual junction of the waters of the canal and
the Red Sea had not taken place until Ptolemy Philadelphus, by applying
the invention of locks, had enabled vessels to quit the canal in order
to navigate the sea.
Strabo, who was also well acquainted with Egypt, from personal
residence, mentions the locks constructed by Ptolemy. After saying that
even Darius had left the junction of the canal with the Red Sea
incomplete, from the danger of inundating the country, he adds--"During
the government of the Ptolemies, the isthmus was cut through, and a
closed passage (a _euripus_) formed, so that a ship, whenever it was
required, could enter the outer sea or pass into the canal."[1]
[1] Strabo, xvii. c. 1. Vol. iii. p. 444.--Ed. Tauch.
Though the canal constructed by Darius had been in general use for
commercial purposes, and was regarded by Herodotus, when he visited
Egypt, as a work in every way complete, still there can be no doubt that
its importance would be greatly increased by the locks connecting it
with the Red Sea. The augmentation in the trade, and the improvement in
the class of vessels which navigated the canal, induced Ptolemy to make
the changes in the whole course, from which it received the name of the
river of Ptolemy. A very great addition was thus made to the prosperity
of Egypt, as the canal would remain navigable for four months annually,
from the end of August to the end of December. During this season of the
year, the people of the Delta had little to attend to but the
exportation of their surplus produce, and clearing their granaries for a
new harvest, by selling all that portion of their grain which was
neither required for seed nor for the maintenance of their families.
It has been supposed very generally, but on no adequate authority, that
Ptolemy Philadelphus constructed this canal, with a view of making it
the route of the Indian trade; but this was by no means the case. Even
Robertson, in his historical disquisition concerning ancient India,
falls into this error, to which he adds the greater mistake of
declaring, "that the work was never finished."[1] On the other hand, he
points out with accuracy the real direction which Ptolemy gave to the
trade with India, by Berenice and Coptos, and the great works he
constructed for the convenience of transporting goods from the Nile
across the desert to the Red Sea; and it may be remarked, that the
Indian trade always kept this route, or one similar, until the
discovery of that by the Cape of Good Hope--the great route of the
merchants being either by Coptos and Berenice, or by Coptos and Myos
Hormos, or, at a later period, by the Vicus Apollinis to Philotera.
Ptolemy was perfectly aware of all the difficulties of the navigation
of the northern part of the Red Sea, during the summer months, against
the north wind. The great object of the canal was, the export of
produce from the Delta, for which there was a great demand in the
countries on the northern shores of the Red Sea. But there can be no
doubt that ships would often sail from Arsinöe to India, disposing of
their Egyptian cargo on the way, and returning with their Indian goods
to Berenice, and sometimes to Arsinöe. Lucian, indeed, mentions, that
"a young man, having sailed up the Nile to Clysina, and finding a ship
ready to depart for India, was induced to embark."[2]
[1] P. 46, and note xvii.
[2] Alexander, 44.
The fact that the ancients found the navigation of the Nile more
commodious and cheaper than that of the Red Sea, even though it entailed
on them the burden of transporting their merchandise from Coptos by
caravan, for six or seven days, to Berenice or Myos Hormos, should not
be lost sight of in examining the objects for which the ancient canal to
Arsinöe was constructed. The immense extent of the Indian trade, by
Berenice and Myos Hormos, is attested by many passages in the Greek and
Roman classics.[1]
[1] Compare Strabo, xii. c. 5, vol. i. p. 187, ed. Tauch.; xviii. i.
vol. iii. p. 461. Plinii Hist. Nat. vi. 23; xii. 18. Arriani Perip.
maris Erythr. in Hudson's Geog. min. Tom. i. 32. Athenaeus, v. p. 201.
The opinion which prevails very generally concerning the great
inferiority of the ancients in naval skill, requires also to be confined
strictly to nautical knowledge, and should not lead us to underrate
their mechanical powers, or their means of transporting objects of as
great bulk as ourselves by sea. The parade which was made at Paris about
transporting the obelisk from Egypt, and erecting it in the Place de
Concorde, caused our neighbours to overlook the fact, that there are
several larger obelisks still existing at Rome, which were brought from
Egypt, and there is one at Constantinople. The largest obelisk at Rome
was brought there from Alexandria in the tine of Constantius, when the
arts and sciences are generally supposed to have been in a declining
state.[1]
[1] The height of the Parisian obelisk is 76 feet 6 inches, that of the
Lateran, 105 feet 6 inches; of the Piazza del Popolo, 87 feet 6 inches;
of the Piazza San Pietro, 83 feet. Only about 50 feet of the obelisk in
the Atmeidan at Constantinople is now in existence, but its proportions
indicate that it must originally have exceeded 80 feet. We have two
obelisks in the British Museum, but we cannot boast much of our
mechanical or naval skill in transporting them, as they are only eight
feet each in length.
That the Romans found little difficulty in transporting the largest
obelisks and columns by sea, is not wonderful, when we attend to the
great size of some of the vessels which were constructed in ancient
times. Our ignorance of the manner in which forty banks of oars were
disposed in vessels larger than our three-deckers, in such a way as to
enable them to make long voyages, does not authorize us to doubt the
fact, with such proofs as exist. Our ideas of ancient navies are
generally derived from our recollections of the battle of Salamis, as
described by Herodotus, and of the engagements between the Romans and
Carthaginians, in Polybius. This, however, was the infancy of the navel
art, though the Romans had made great advances beyond the Athenians.
Polybius, in noticing the improvement, observes that they never made use
of vessels like the small triremes of the Greek states, but constructed
only quinqueremes for war; and that of these they lost seven hundred in
the first Punic war, while the Carthaginians lost five hundred.[1]
[1] The war lasted twenty-three years, from B.C. 264 to 241.--POLYBIUS,
i. 63.
It may not, however, be superfluous to mention the measurement of some
of the largest ships constructed by the ancients. A very large ship was
built for Hiero, king of Syracuse, under the direction of Archimedes. We
ought, therefore, to pause before we decide, that any deficiency in
scientific skill rendered it a useless and unwieldy hulk. That it was
not calculated to keep the sea when an English frigate would be sailing
under close-reefed topsails, there can be no doubt; but we must know the
intentions with which the ancients constructed their enormous ships,
before we decide on their insufficiency. The ship constructed by
Archimedes had twenty banks of oars, and was built as a man-of-war. It
was sent from Syracuse to Egypt, as a present to Ptolemy Philopater, and
was laid up in the docks of Alexandria.
But the largest vessel on record was a ship constructed for Ptolemy
Philopater, which had forty banks of oars. This vessel was rather a
royal yacht, built to gratify the vanity of the court, than a ship
intended for any useful purpose. It was 424 feet in length, and 58
broad. The height of the forecastle from the water was 60 feet. The
longest oars were 58 feet, and their handles were loaded with lead to
facilitate their motion. The equipage consisted of 4400 men, of whom
4000 were rowers. A ship constructed for the voyages of the court on the
Nile, was 330 feet long, and 45 feet wide.[1]
These passages are sufficient to show the immense size of ancient ships,
and to prove that their system of naval architecture could not have been
directed to contend against contrary winds, but was calculated to
transport the largest burdens.
[1] A modern first-rate is about 205 feet long, 54 feet broad, and
draws 25 feet water. Its weight is about 4600 tons, when the guns and
provisions are on board. Of course, the weight even of Ptolemy's immense
ship could not have approached this. Athen. Deipnosophistae, lib. v.
§ 37, (p. 203.) Our skill in transporting large blocks of marble is so
small, that we have been compelled to cut in two some of the Lycian
monuments of no great size.
We must now notice the passages which have been supposed to controvert
the account we have given of the completion of the canal between the
Nile and the Red Sea. The first is a passage of Pliny the Elder, which
asserts that Ptolemy Philadelphus only carried the canal to the bitter
lakes. "Ex quo navigabilem alveum perducere in Nilum, qua parte ad Delta
dictum decurrit, sexagies et bis centena mill. passuum intervallo, (quod
inter flumen et Rubrum mare interest,) primus omnium Sesostris Aegypti
rex cogitavit: mox Darius Persarum: deinde Ptolemaeus sequens: qui et
duxit fossam latitudine pedum centum, altitudine XL, in longitudinem
XXXVII mill. D passuum usque ad Fontes amaros." It is needless to remind
the reader that Diodorus and Strabo, who lived before Pliny, and had
both resided long in Egypt, had seen the canal finished, and described
the lock by which it communicated with the Red Sea. It appears, indeed,
that the passage, as it stands, has arisen from some inadvertence of
Pliny, or perhaps from some blunder of his copyists; for he contradicts
his statement, that the canal of Ptolemy terminated at the bitter lakes,
in a subsequent passage, in which he mentions that Philadelphus
constructed the branch which reached Arsinöe, and was called the river
of Ptolemy.--"Eae viae omnes Arsinöen ducunt, conditam sororis nomine in
sinu Charandra, a Ptolemaeo Philadelpho, qui primus Troglodyticen
excussit, et amnem qui Arsinöen praefluit, Ptolemaeum appellavit."[1]
[1] Plinii Natur. Hist. lib. vi. § 33.
The other passage is contained in Plutarch's life of Antony; and to a
casual reader, who forgets that the canal could only have been
navigable during the season of the inundation, in consequence of the
high level of the waters of the Red Sea, a difficulty in explaining the
passage will immediately occur, and an inference will be drawn against
the existence of the canal at the time. Monsieur Letronne, with his
usual critical sagacity, has, however, pointed out the combination of
facts which render the anecdote in Plutarch a confirmation of the
ordinary employment of the canal, rather than an argument against its
existence at the time.[1] Cleopatra, when alarmed at the result of the
war between Antony and Augustus, had sent her son Caesario, the reputed
child of Julius Cesar, with a considerable amount of treasure, through
Ethiopia into India.[2] "When Antony returned to Alexandria after the
battle of Actium, he found Cleopatra engaged in a very stupendous and
bold enterprise. She was endeavouring to transport her fleet over the
isthmus between the Red Sea and the Mediterranean, which, in the
narrowest part, is three hundred stades, and by this means, with her
fleet in the Arabian gulf, and with her treasures, to escape from
slavery and war."[3] Letronne has pointed out, that the battle of
Actium having been fought on the 2nd of September, B.C. 31, it is
evident from the subsequent events, that Antony could not have rejoined
Cleopatra in Egypt before the month of February, or perhaps even later,
in the ensuing year. Now, this period coincides with that at which the
low state of the waters of the Nile must have rendered the canal
useless for the passage of Cleopatra's fleet. Her extreme terror would
not allow her to wait until the rise of the Nile again rendered the
canal navigable, and she resolved on transporting her fleet to the Red
Sea by land. It must be observed, however, that the project could
hardly have occurred to Cleopatra as feasible, unless she had been well
aware that vessels often passed from the Mediterranean into the Red
Sea. The project was abandoned, as the Arabs of Petra burned the first
ships that Cleopatra attempted to transport; and Antony soon persuaded
her that his affairs were by no means so desperate as she supposed.
[1] Mémoire sur l'Isthme de Suez, dans la Revue des deux Mondes, tom.
xxvii. 223.
[2] Plutarch in Anton., § 81.--Langhorn's Translation, in 1 vol.,
p. 656.
[3] Plutarch in Anton., § 69.--Translation, p. 652.
The canal was of far too great importance to the prosperity of Egypt,
and the revenues of the country were too immediately connected with its
existence, as one of the highways for exporting the produce of the
Delta, for the Romans to neglect its conservation. It is true that the
Romans never paid much attention to commerce, which they despised; and
during the long period they governed their immense empire in comparative
tranquillity, they did less to improve and extend its relations than any
other people of antiquity. But they were always peculiarly attentive to
preserve every undertaking which was connected with the agricultural
industry and land revenue of their provinces. Unless, therefore, their
attention had been directed to the canal of Suez, either as an important
military line of communication, or as an instrument for displaying the
pride and power of the empire, it would have undergone no improvement
under the Roman emperors.
It happened, however, that when Trajan became anxious to display his
magnificence in adorning Rome with new buildings, that the fashion of
the times rendered the granite and the porphyry in the neighbourhood of
the Red Sea indispensable. To obtain the immense columns, and the
enormous porphyry vases, which were then admired, with sufficient
celerity and in sufficient quantity, it became necessary to render the
canal navigable for a longer period of time every year. In order to
effect this, Trajan constructed a new canal from the vicinity of
Babylon, and connected it with the ancient canal through the valley of
Seba Biar.[1] This new work is called the river of Trajan by Ptolemy
the geographer; and as it gave an additional elevation of thirteen feet
to the stream which fed the canal, it may have supplied the means of
keeping the navigation open for about six months yearly.[2]
[1] Babylon was near Cairo.
[2] Ptolemy, lib. iv. 5.
The quarries of granite and porphyry which supplied the Romans in the
time of Trajan, were discovered by Sir Gardner Wilkinson and Mr Burton,
in the years 1821-22, at Djebel-Fattereh and Djebel-Dokhan; and
Monsieur Letronne has pointed out the connexion of these quarries with
the improvements made by Trajan in the canal.[1] Many large works of
porphyry exist, which must have been worked in the quarries of
Djebel-Dokhan. We need only enumerate the great porphyry vase in the
Vatican, which exceeds fourteen feet in diameter--that of the museum at
Naples, which is cut out of a block nearly as large--the tombs of St
Helen in the Vatican, and of Benedict XIII. in St John Lateran--and the
blocks of the porphyry column at Constantinople. It is evident that the
masses could never be conveyed from Djebel-Dokhan to the Nile by land;
but no great difficulty would be found in transporting them to Myos
Hormos on the Red Sea, and embarking them there for Arsinöe; from
whence their conveyance to Alexandria, by the canal and the Nile, was
easy. It is well known that the quarries of porphyry in Egypt could not
have grown into importance until after the reign of Claudius, as
Vitrasius Pollio sent the first porphyry statues which had been seen at
Rome as a present to that emperor.[2] The chief, if not the only
quarries of red porphyry known to the ancients were in the Thebaid, at
Djebel-Dokhan.
[1] Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. ii.
[2] Plinii Natur. Hist. xxxvi. 11.
At the granite quarries of Djebel Fattereh, Sir Gardner Wilkinson found
many columns in various stages of completion, some ready to be removed;
and of these there were several of the enormous size of fifty-five feet
long, and nearly eight feet in circumference. These quarries are at
least thirty miles distant from the Red Sea; but, as the ground affords
a continual descent, and some traces of the road exist, there cannot be
a doubt that these immense columns were destined to be carried to
Philotera, and there shipped for Arsinöe, and that, like the porphyry
vases, they were to find their way to Rome, by the canal, the Nile, and
the port of Alexandria. Sir Gardner Wilkinson has shown that these
granite quarries were abandoned not long after the reign of Hadrian; and
an inscription, quoted by Letronne, proves that the granite quarries at
Syene were first worked about the years A.D. 205-209. The great
facilities afforded by the Nile for transporting the largest columns
from Syene to Alexandria, appears to have caused the immediate
abandonment of the quarries of Djebel Fattereh; as the expense of
transporting the columns already finished was doubtless greater than the
cost of working and conveying new ones from Syene to Alexandria.
The canal of Trajan continued to be kept open, after the building mania,
to which it owed its origin, had ceased. It had extended the sphere of
the export trade of the Delta; and it continued to serve as the means of
transporting the blocks of porphyry--for which there was a constant
demand at Rome and Constantinople, and, indeed, in almost every city of
wealth in the Roman empire. Eusebius, in his ecclesiastical history,
mentions that the porphyry quarries of the Thebaid were worked during
the time of the great persecution, in the reign of Dioclesian. He says,
"that one hundred martyrs were selected from the innumerable crowd of
Christians condemned to labour in the Thebaid, in the place called
Porphyritis, from the marble which was quarried at the spot."[1]
[1] Eusebius, lib viii. c. 8.
In the reign of Justinian, we find these quarries still worked on a
considerable scale, as they are alluded to more than once by Paul the
Silentiary, in his description of the Church of St Sophia at
Constantinople. He affords evidence that the porphyry still continued to
be transported by the Nile to Alexandria; and though his words contain
no express mention of the canal, it is evident that the workmen of
Justinian would always prefer the easier road by Myos Hormos and
Arsinöe, to the almost impracticable task of conveying the blocks
across the desert.[1] In the reign of Justin I., the trade of the Red
Sea was of great importance, and must have created an immense demand
for the agricultural produce of Egypt. The King of Ethiopia, resolving
to attack Dunaan, the Jewish king of the Homerites in Arabia,
collected, during the winter, a fleet of seven hundred Indian vessels,
and six hundred trading ships, belonging to the Roman and Persian
merchants who visited his kingdom.[2]
[1] Pauli Silentianii Descripto Magnae Ecclesiae Sanctae Sophiae,
v. 379, 620.
[2] Acts of the Martyrs; Metaphrast. Ap. Sur. tom v. p. 1042.
After the reign of Justinian, it is not improbable that the repairs
necessary for maintaining the navigation of the canal open began to be
neglected, as we know that the population and industry of Egypt began to
decline. The tribute of grain to Constantinople, and the public
distributions to the people of Alexandria, appear to have exhausted all
the surplus produce of the country; and to facilitate their collection,
Justinian forbade the exportation of grain from any part of Egypt but
Alexandria, except under great restrictions.[1] This edict, doubtless,
ruined both the canal and the trade in the Red Sea, and may be looked
upon as one of the proximate causes of the increasing power of the
Arabs about the time of the birth of Mohammed. The Arabian caravans
became possessed of the commerce formerly carried on in the northern
part of the Red Sea; and as the wealth and civilization of the Arabs
increased, a demand for a new religion, and a more extended empire,
arose.[2] Had the complete abandonment of the canal not taken place
shortly after the publication of Justinian's edict, it must have been
completed during the universal anarchy which prevailed while Phocas
reigned at Constantinople. Shortly after Heraclius delivered the empire
from Phocas, the Persians invaded Egypt, and kept possession of it for
ten years; nor is it probable that Heraclius could have made any
efforts to restore the canal during the time he ruled Egypt, after
recovering it from the Persians. When the Saracens conquered Egypt,
they found the canal filled with sand.
[1] Edict xiii., Lex de Alexandrinis et Egyptiaciis provinciis.
[2] Transport, in some states of civilization, is cheaper by caravan
than by sea.
The principle of all Mohammedan governments places the supreme power of
the state in the person of the sovereign; and these sovereigns, in the
simplicity or barbarism of their political views, have always considered
the construction of wells, fountains, caravanseries, and mosques, as the
only public works, except palaces, (if palaces can be properly so
called,) worthy of a monarch's attention. Ports and canals they have
always utterly despised, and roads and bridges have been barely
tolerated. It is as difficult to civilize the mind of a true Mohammedan,
as it is to wash the skin of a negro white. But the earlier caliphs were
not moulded into true Mussulmans; they had been witnesses to the making
of their religion; and, when they forsook the rude superstitions of
their forefathers of the desert, they had admitted some gleams of common
sense and sound reason into their minds, along with the sermons of
Mohammed.
And in the early ages of the caliphate, Syria and Egypt were inhabited
by a numerous Christian population of the Nestorian and Jacobite
heresies, firmly attached to the Saracen power, on their hatred to the
orthodox Roman emperors at Constantinople. The importance of the canal
of Suez to the well-being of these useful subjects of the Arab empire,
could not escape the attention of the caliphs. The native population of
Egypt had, with the greatest unanimity, joined the Saracens against the
Romans; and the Caliph Omar would have been led by policy to restore the
canal, in order to enrich these devoted partisans, as he was induced to
burn the library of Alexandria to diminish the moral influence of the
Greeks.
The Arabian historians and geographers contain numerous passages
relating to the re-opening of the canal, and many of these will be found
translated at the end of the _Mémoire sur le Canal des Deux Mers_. They
state that Omar ordered the canal of Trajan to be cleared out in its
whole extent. The necessity of securing a greatly increased supply of
grain for the holy cities of Medina and Mecca, whose population had been
suddenly augmented by their becoming the capitals of all Arabia, and the
centres of the Mohammedan power, could not be overlooked. But the mind
of Omar was particularly directed to the subject, in consequence of a
famine which prevailed in Arabia in the eighteenth year of the Hegira,
(A.D. 639,) which was afterwards called the year of the mortality. In
that year, the caliph's attention was also more especially called to the
fertility of Egypt, as Amron, at his pressing demand for provisions,
sent such an immense caravan, that the Arabian writers, with their usual
exaggeration, declare, that the convoy was so numerous as to extend the
whole way from Medina to Cairo; the first camel of the train entering
the Holy City with its load, as the last of the uninterrupted line
quitted Misr. The descriptions of the abundance this supply spread among
the Arabs are indeed less miraculous, though such eloquence is displayed
in painting the gastronomic delights of the hungry Mussulmans, in
devouring the savoury food cooked with the fat of the beasts of burden
which had transported it.[1]
[1] Ebn-A'bdoul-Hokin.
The account of the canal given by the geographer Makrizy, requires to be
transcribed in his own words, from the accurate summary which it
contains of the later history of this great monument of civilization.
"When the Most High," says the writer, "gave Islamism to mankind, and
Amrou-Ben-el-A'ss conquered Egypt by the order of Omar-ben-âl-Khatâb,
chief of the Faithful, he cleared out the canal in the year of the
mortality. He carried it to the sea of Qolzoum, from which ships sailed
to the Hedjâz, to Yemen, and to India. This canal remained open until
the time when Mohammed-ben-Abdoullah-ben-El-Hosseïn-ben-Aly-ben-Aby-Thâleb
revolted in the city of the Prophet (Medina) against Abou-dja'far-Abdoullah
ben-Mohammed Al-Manssour, then caliph of Irâk. This prince immediately
wrote to his lieutenant in Egypt, ordering him to fill up the canal of
Qolzoum, that it might not serve to transport provisions to Medina. The
order was executed, and all communication was cut off with the sea at
Qolzoum. Since that time, matters have remained in the state we now see
them."[1] As the rebellion of Mohammed Abdoullah against the caliph,
Al Manssour, occurred between the 145th and the 150th years of the
Hegira, (A.D. 762-767,) the canal had remained open for about 125 years
under the Arab government.
[1] See the extracts of Makrizy in the work on Egypt, and in the
_Notice par Langlès dans les notices et extraits des Manuscrits de la
Bibliothèque du Roi_, vi. 334.
We have now traced the history of the canal to its close; and we believe
our readers will allow that we have proved, by incontrovertible
evidence, that a continued navigation from the Nile to the Red Sea
existed from the time of Darius (B.C. 500) to the time of Al-Manssour,
(A.D. 765,) with the interruption of a short period preceding the
extinction of the Roman power in the east. It hardly requires any proof
to establish that system of navigation, and a commercial route, which
remained in use for nearly 1300 years, must have been based on the
internal sources of Egypt, and been regarded as absolutely necessary,
under every vicissitude of foreign trade, to the prosperity of the
country. The great object of the canal was to afford a high-road for the
exportation of the produce of Egypt; and its connexion with the Indian
trade was merely a secondary and unimportant consideration. Its
connexion with the existence of the agricultural, Egyptian, or Coptic
population, was more immediate.
At present, the question of restoring the canal is solely connected with
the Indian trade. We own we have very great doubts whether its
re-establishment, if destined only to connect our lines of steam-packets
from India to Suez, and from Southampton to Alexandria, would be found a
profitable speculation. The tedious navigation of the Red Sea, and, we
may almost add, of the Mediterranean, would render the route by the Cape
preferable for sailing vessels; and we have not yet arrived at such
perfection in the construction of steamers, as to contemplate their
becoming the only vessels employed in the Indian trade. It appears to
us, that before any reasonable hope of restoring the canal can be
entertained, or, at least, before it can ever be kept open with profit,
that Egypt must be again in a condition to employ the irrigable land on
the banks of the canal for agricultural purposes. Unless the country be
flourishing, the population increasing, and the canal constantly
employed, it would be half-filled with the sand of the desert every
year. On the other hand, as soon as a demand for more irrigable land is
created by an augmented population, a canal of irrigation would soon be
carried through the valley of Seba Biar; and the surplus produce of the
Delta would again seek for a market on the shores of the Red Sea and in
Arabia. Until these things happen, even should a canal be excavated,
whether from Cairo to Suez, or from Suez to Tineh, during some pecuniary
plethora in the city, we venture to predict that the Suez canal shares,
or Mohammedan bonds, will be as disreputable a security as honest
Jonathan's American repudiated stock, or the Greek bonds of King Otho
not countersigned by Great Britain.
We cannot close this article without alluding to two able pamphlets,
which have been recently published, recommending the formation of a
canal from Suez to Tineh, as that line might be kept always open, from
the elevation of the Red Sea above the Mediterranean.[1] The subject
has been ably treated by the French engineers in the great work on
Egypt, and Monsieur Linant has since examined the question; but the
information we possess on the effect of the currents and winds at
Tineh, is not sufficient to enable any engineer to decide on the works
which would be necessary to enable ships to enter the canal in bad
weather. It is clear that a bar would immediately be formed; and almost
as certain that any break-water but a floating one would soon be joined
to the continent by a neck of sand. If it be possible to form any part
at this point on the Egyptian coast, it could only be done at an
enormous cost; and our information is at present too imperfect to
warrant our entering on the subject. The question requires a more
profound scientific examination than it has yet undergone.
[1] Enquiry into the Means of Establishing a Ship Navigation between
the Mediterranean and the Red Sea, with a Map. By Captain Veitch, R.E.,
F.R.S. Communications with India, China, &c.; Observations on the
Practicability and Utility of Opening a Communication between the Red
Sea and the Mediterranean, by a Ship Canal through the Isthmus of Suez,
with Two Maps. By Arthur Anderson.
One of the ablest scholars who has written on the subject of this canal,
has advanced the opinion, that Nekos, the king of Egypt, who, Herodotus
mentions, undertook the completion of this work, borrowed the idea of
his project from the Greeks. Monsieur Letronne conjectures that he only
imitated the plan, which is attributed to Periander, of having designed
to cut through the isthmus of Corinth. Willing as we are to concede a
great deal to Grecian genius, we are compelled to protest against the
probability of the Egyptians having borrowed any project of
_canalization_ from the Greeks. We own we should entertain very great
doubts whether Periander had ever uttered so much as a random phrase
about cutting through the isthmus of Corinth, were it not that there are
some historical grounds for believing that he was a professed imitator
of Egypt. He had a nephew named Psammetichus, who must have been so
called after the father of Nekos.[1] All projects for making canals in
Greece had a foreign origin, from the time Periander imitated Egyptian
fashions, down to the days of the Bavarian regency, which talked about
making a ship canal from the Piraeus to Athens, and instructed a
commission to draw up a plan of canalization for the Hellenic kingdom,
where every thing necessary is wanting--even to the water. The earlier
projectors who proposed to cut through the isthmus of Corinth, after
Periander, were the Macedonian adventurer Demetrius Poliorcetes, and
the Romans, Julius Caesar, Caligula, Nero, and Herodes Atticas.[2] We
should not be surprised to see this notable project revived, or to hear
that the Greeks were on the point of sinking new shafts at the silver
mines of Laurium. A joint-stock company, either for the one or the
other, would be quite as profitable to the capitalists engaged as the
scheme of making sugar from beet-root at Thermopylae, which has found
some unfortunate shareholders, both at Athens and Paris. Travellers,
scholars, and antiquaries, would undoubtedly take more interest in the
progress of the canal, and of the silver mine, than in the confection
of the sugar.
[1] Aristotolis Politic, lib. v. cap. 10, § 22, p. 193.--Ed. Tauch.
[2] A collection of the classic authorities for the different attempts
at cutting the canal through the isthmus of Corinth, may be interesting
to some of our readers. PERIANDER'S Diogenes Laertius, i. 99--DEMETRIUS
POLIORCETES, Strabo, vol. i. p. 86, ed. Tauch.--JULIUS CAESAR, Dion
Cassius, xliv. 5. Plutarch in Caesar, lviii. Suetonius in Caesar.
xliv.--CALIGULA, Suetonius in Calig. xxi.--NERO, Plinii, N.H. iv. 4.
Lucian, Nero. Philostratus in vit. Apollon. Tyan. iv. 24. Zonaras, i.
570, ed. Paris.--HERODES ATTICUS, Philostratus in vit. Sophist. ii. 26.
There was another canal in Greece which proved a sad stumbling-block to
the Roman satirist Juvenal, whose unlucky accusation of "lying Greece,"
is founded on his own ignorance of a fact recorded by Herodotus and
Thucydides.
--"Creditur olim
Velificatus Athos, et quicquid Graecia mendax
Audet in historia."
The words of Herodotus and Thucydides, would leave no doubt of Xerxes
having made a canal through the isthmus to the north of Mount Athos, in
the mind of any but a Roman.[1] But since there are modern travellers
as ready to distrust the ancients, as a gentleman we once encountered
at Athens was to doubt the moderns, we shall quote better evidence than
any Greek. Our acquaintance of the Athenian inn, who had a very elegant
appearance, appealed to us to confirm the _Graecia mendax_, saying, he
had just returned from Marathon, and his guide had been telling him far
greater lies than he ever heard from an Italian cicerone. "The fellow
had the impudence to say, that his countrymen had defeated 500,000
Persians in the plain he showed me," said the gentleman in green. "Let
alone the number--that fable might be pardoned--but he thought me such
an egregious ass as not to know that the war was with the Turks, and
not with the Persians at all." We bowed in amazement to find our
English friend more ignorant than Juvenal. We shall now transcribe the
observations of Colonel Leake, the most sharp-sighted and learned of
the modern travellers who have visited the isthmus of Mount
Athos:--"The modern name of this neck of land is _próvlaka_, evidently
the Romanic form of the word [Greek: proaulax], having reference to the
canal _in front_ of the peninsula of Athos, which crossed the isthmus,
and was excavated by Xerxes. It is a hollow between natural banks,
which are well described by Herodotus as [Greek: kolônoi ou megaloi],
the highest points of them being scarcely 100 feet above the sea. The
lowest part of the hollow is only a few feet higher than that level.
About the middle of the isthmus, where the bottom is highest, are some
traces of the ancient canal; where the ground is lower, it is indicated
only by hollows, now filled with water in consequence of the late
rains. The canal seems to have been not more than sixty feet wide. As
history does not mention that it was ever kept in repair after the time
of Xerxes, the waters from the heights around have naturally filled it
in part with soil in the course of ages. It might, however, without
much labour, be renewed; and there can be no doubt that it would be
useful to the navigation of the Egean, such is the fear entertained by
the Greek boatmen of the strength and uncertain direction of the
currents around Mount Athos."[2]
[1] Herodotus, vii. 21. Thucydides, iv. 109
[2] Leake's Travels in Northern Greece. Vol. iii. p. 143.
THE OLD SCOTTISH CAVALIER.
I.
I'll sing you a new song, that should make your heart beat high,
Bring crimson to your forehead, and the lustre to your eye;--
It is a song of olden time, of days long since gone by,
And of a Baron stout and bold, as e'er wore sword on thigh!
Like a brave old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
II.
He kept his castle in the north, hard by the thundering Spey;
And a thousand vassals dwelt around, all of his kindred they.
And not a man of all that clan had ever ceased to pray
For the Royal race they loved so well, though exiled far away
From the steadfast Scottish cavaliers, all of the olden time.
III.
His father drew the righteous sword for Scotland and her claims,
Among the loyal gentlemen and chiefs of ancient names,
Who swore to fight or fall beneath the standard of King James,
And died at Killiecrankie pass, with the glory of the Graemes,
Like a true old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
IV.
He never own'd the foreign rule, no master he obey'd,
But kept his clan in peace at home, from foray and from raid;
And when they ask'd him for his oath, he touch'd his glittering
blade,
And pointed to his bonnet blue that bore the white cockade,
Like a leal old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
V.
At length the news ran through the land--THE PRINCE had come again!
That night the fiery cross was sped o'er mountain and through glen;
And our old Baron rose in might, like a lion from his den,
And rode away across the hills to Charlie and his men,
With the valiant Scottish cavaliers, all of the olden time!
VI.
He was the first that bent the knee when THE STANDARD waved abroad,
He was the first that charged the foe on Preston's bloody sod;
And ever, in the van of fight, the foremost still he trod,
Until, on bleak Culloden's heath, he gave his soul to God,
Like a good old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
VII.
Oh! never shall we know again a heart so stout and true--
The olden times have pass'd away, and weary are the new:
The fair White Rose has faded from the garden where it grew,
And no fond tears but those of heaven the glorious bed bedew
Of the last old Scottish cavalier, all of the olden time!
W.E.A.
TRADITIONS AND TALES OF UPPER LUSATIA.
No. III.
THE DWARF'S WELL.
We have been shown, in our two preceding pieces from Ernst Willkomm,
Pathetic Fairies, and Fairies merry to rioting. Here we have, not
without merriment either, Working Fairies. In the mines of the Upper
Lusatian Belief, the tale of THE DWARF'S WELL strikes into a vein which
our author has promised us, but of which we have not heretofore handled
the ore. Here we shall see the imagination touching in some deeper
sterner colours to the sketches flung forth by the fancy; and in the
spirit of unreal creation, a wild self-will which rejoices to waft into
the presence of the beautiful, and of unbridled laughter, cold blasts
from the region of pure affright. There is in this, however, no
prostration of strength--quite the reverse! Not a nervous and enfeebled
sensibility, yielding itself up to a diseased taste for pain.--No child
fascinated with fear, and straining its eyes to take in more horror. But
here the unconquerable consciousness of strong life throws itself with
an unmastered glee of battle, right into the thick of its mortal
adversaries, to slay, and strip, and bind to its own triumphant
chariot-wheels.
The Upper Lusatian Highlander, turned poet, dreaming at his discretion,
amuses himself with converting terror and madness into merriment, and
reconciles conflicting elements of invention--with an overpowering
harmony?--No. But, by subjugating them all alike to one imperious lord,
viz. to himself;--to his own pleasure. Hence, in the Traditions and
Tales, in which he embodies his illusory creed of the Invisible, there
is engendered an esthetical species, which waits, perhaps, for a name
with us, and might accept that of the _Ghastly_, or at least, of the
_Ghostly-Humorous_, the _Gay-Horrible_. The story of the PRIEST'S WELL
soars boldly upon this pinion; that of the WILL-O'-THE-WISP HUSSAR has
gone stark-raving in the same grimly-mirthful temper. The mind in which
Burns imagined and chaunted his TAM-O'-SHANTER, is right down Upper
Lusatian, in this key. Our Elves, however, are not yet witches.
The kinds of the spirits confine, upon every side, with one another, and
the boundary lines vanish. Within the circumscription of the Fairy
domain, an indeterminable difference appears betwixt the truest Fairies
and the Dwarfs. The two sorts, or the two names, are sometimes brought
into glaring opposition. Again, like factions made friends, they blend
for a time indistinguishably. So, in the Persian belief, the ugly
_Dios_, who may represent the Dwarfs of our west, are--under one aspect
of the Fable--the implacable _cannibal_ foes--under another,--the loving
spouses of the beautiful Peris. Comparing the Fairies of our two former
tales, and the Dwarfs of this, the reader will probably see in THOSE,
the daintier, the more delicate: in THESE, a little more hardness of
nature.
The great length of the story precludes all thoughts (be the
opportunities what they may, and these are not deficient) of bringing
its illustration from other expositors--Teutonic or otherwise-of the
Fairy Lore.
THE DWARF'S WELL.
"Nicholas Stringstriker was the most popular ale-house fiddler for a
good twenty miles round, and consequently quite indispensable at all
christenings, marriages, and wakes. Klaus knew this as well as every
body else, and, like a wise man, did the best he could to turn his
popularity to account--the more so, poor fellow! because he was obliged
to put up with all kinds of ridicule and teasing. Stringstriker, you
must know, was a most comical little fellow, with very small thin bandy
legs, that had to bear the burden of a huge square trunk, which, in its
turn, supported a big head that was for ever waggling to and fro,
without affording the slightest indication of a neck. The entire little
man measured exactly three feet five inches and an eighth, and he was
best known to his acquaintance by the name of _Dwarf-fiddler_ or
_Dwarf-piper_; for the little gentleman smoked away for his life, and
liked nothing better.
"So misshapen a figure, it may readily be supposed, made a very good
target for the shafts of mockery. Nicholas, however, troubled himself
but little about them; and it was small complaint you heard from him so
long as he was well paid, got his savoury morsel, and, above all, a
liberal supply of his choice favourite--_Tobacco_. True, folks might now
and then, as the saying is, _draw the cord too tight_ and be too hard
upon the scraper; and then Klaus, like most deformed creatures, had wit
and venom enough at his command, and could rid himself right easily of
his tormentors.
"The Dwarf--it might be to render himself thoroughly independent, or,
more likely still, to surround his diminutive individuality with an air
of mystery--had abandoned his birth-place, and established himself about
two miles away from it, near a singularly-formed sandstone rock,
situated in a small but exceedingly pretty fir-wood, and commonly known
by the name of the Bear's church. Here he spent his quiet life, wholly
engaged in the practice of his art. Travellers taking their road by
night, and in calm weather, from _Bertsdorf_ to _Hörnitz_ or over the
Breitenberg to _Gross-schönau_ were arrested by the exquisite strains,
now touchingly plaintive, now joyously merry, that poured from Klaus's
magical instrument; and many a happy soul, allured by the enchanting
melody, lingered within sound of it, until wholly subdued and rendered
powerless by awe and superstitious fear. Although by day the fiddler was
visible to none, yet by night he was often seen waddling out of the wood
and over the fields, on his way to a clear spring, whence he drew water
for his housekeeping, which--to add to the mystery that he delighted to
create--he doggedly looked after himself. This spring belonged to a
substantial farmer in Bertsdorf, named _Michael Simon_, though called by
the people _Twirling-stick Mike_, in commemoration of his cutting down
yearly in his wood a handsome quantity of young trees, which he
afterwards manufactured into twirling-sticks. Simon not only was master
of a good farm, but proprietor likewise of the village tavern, in which
he gave a dance every Sunday, taking care to secure for the festivity
the services of Stringstriker, to whose fiddle, it was well known, the
lads and lasses invariably danced an hour longer than to that of any
other scraper in the country.
"The visits of Stringstriker to the well were a continual vexation to
the farmer. The Dwarf asked no man's permission to draw his water, but
helped himself as often and as liberally as he thought proper, without
the slightest regard to the wants of other people, which were often left
unsatisfied by his wantonness and extravagance. It was in consequence of
this audacious appropriation, that the spring by degrees acquired the
name of THE DWARF'S WELL. Countless were the complaints and menaces of
Mike--numberless the promised threshings, if he did not give up his
thieving; but the effect of them all upon Klaus was to make him laugh
outright, fill his pipe, and strike up a jolly tune upon his fiddle.
"Now it happened that Twirling-stick Mike held a christening, and he not
only asked the Dwarf as a guest to the feast, but actually went so far
as to invite the creature to stand godfather to his child. Klaus was
mightily pleased with the honour, and behaved like a gentleman on the
occasion. He made his godson a handsome present, and promised to do a
good deal more for him, stipulating only that the child, being a boy,
should be named Nicholas after himself.
"There was a merry party at the christening, and at first matters went
on smoothly and comfortably enough; but as the eating, and drinking, and
dancing advanced, quips and cranks became very plentiful, and the
greater number, as might be expected, were flung, and not very lightly,
at the head of poor Stringstriker. The fiddler for a time received his
cuffs very manfully--but they grew intolerable at last. First, his legs
were criticised--then his lank withered arms; even his fiddling was
disparaged, and he himself pronounced highly indecorous, because he
persisted in smoking his pipe all the while he scraped.
"'Klaus, Klaus!' said the master of the house, his sides shaking with
laughter, 'if you don't forswear smoking this very instant, your
sponsorship sha'n't stand. As sure as my name is Twirling-stick Mike, I
won't allow it; and the boy shall be called Michael after his father.'
"Klaus laughed too, went on smoking, and tuned his fiddle.
"'Did you hear what I said, you bandy-legged Dwarf-piper?' bawled Simon,
in continuation.
"Klaus laid his fiddle aside.
"'Gossip!' said he, in a tone of meaning, 'keep within bounds--within
bounds, I say--and don't force me for once to fiddle to an ugly tune. I
am your boy's godfather; his name is Klaus, and Klaus he shall be called
amongst my children!'
"The whole company simultaneously broke out into loud laughter, and
exclaimed with one voice--
"'Amongst his children!'
"'Why, where have you left your respectable better-half, then?' asked
Simon, 'and what wench ever gave herself up to two such noble shanks?
Where, in Heaven's name, Klaus, was the parson ordained that trusted a
poor woman to you for better or worse?'
"The Dwarf smoked away, and could hardly be seen through the cloud that
enveloped him.
"'Idiots!' he murmured to himself, 'as if we lived like mere human
Creatures'--
"'What's that you say?' asked Simon, interrupting him. 'Don't talk
blasphemy, you heathenish imp, or'--
"'Be quiet, gossip!' returned the Dwarf, with a savage frown. 'Don't put
me up, or I and my children may be troublesome to you and yours yet. You
had better give me some more tobacco, for I love smoking, and so do my
people!'
"'If he isn't cracked, I am a Turk!' exclaimed Simon. 'Pride has turned
that added head of his quite round. Well, Heaven preserve me from a
cracked godfather, any how!'
"'Body of me!' interposed an old boor, one of the party, 'what the crab
says is true.'
"'True!' said Simon.
"'Yes! What, have you never heard of the Spirits and Dwarfs who, for
thousands of years, have carried on their precious games in all kinds of
underground pits and holes? Now, take my word for it, he has something
to do with them. Klaus is just the fellow for the rogues. They make
choice of a king once every fifty years--one of flesh and blood, like
ourselves. His majesty must be shaped like a dwarf--that's quite
necessary; but when he is lifted to the throne, the creatures heap upon
him all sorts of wondrous gifts. They teach him to play the fiddle,
flute, and clarinet like an angel. They put him up to the art of
manufacturing wonderful clocks--of eclipsing the sun and moon, and all
that kind of thing. They once had a dwarf king, a shoemaker, and that
fellow never had his equal. Whenever he took it into his head, he would
sit down, call for seventy thousand skins, and then set to work. How
long do you suppose he was getting them out of hand? Why, in just one
hour and a half the whole stock was manufactured. Shoes, gaiters,
spatterdashes, jack-boots and bluchers for five hundred thousand men,
and all their wives and children. You may believe it. There never was a
chap that flung the things about as he did. And you may take my word for
it, Klaus Stringstriker could do something too, if he chose. Why do you
think he is so insolent and conceited, and presumes so much upon his
playing and smoking? Why--just because these little earthmen are his
familiars, and back him up in every thing!'
"'Oh, that's it--is it?' said Simon dryly. 'Klaus is King of the Dwarfs,
is he? Then if that's the case, he shall perform a trick for us
directly. Now I give you all warning, young and old, not to stop his
pipe, or fill his glass again, till he fiddles himself into a fit, and
glass and pipe replenish themselves!'
"Klaus remonstrated against the proceeding--but the guests were brimful
of fun and mischief, and wouldn't listen to him. It was evident that
nothing would satisfy the company but the exhibition of the misery to
which they resolved to subject the unhappy knave forthwith. The Dwarf
implored, threatened, cursed; he struck about him like a madman,
screamed, roared, and struggled to escape; all in vain. The untractable
little fellow was held fast, and then, amidst the jokes and gibes of the
assembly, securely tied, with his fiddle in his hand, against the
roof-tree of the room. Once pinned, there was no use in further
resistance. The poor deformed creature had nothing better to do than to
play, as commanded.
"And he did play, so touchingly and heartbreakingly, that the listeners
were very soon in agonies before him. The eyes of the Dwarf rolled like
little fire-balls in their cells--his cheeks grew paler and paler, and
cold sweat poured down in a stream from his forehead. Nevertheless, he
fiddled away incessantly--now merrily, now mournfully, now slowly, now
quicker than ever. Every dancer had reason that night to thank his
stars, if he left off without having thrown himself into a phthisic;
for, when he once began, it was as easy for him to fly into the air as
to come to a stand-still, until it pleased Klaus Stringstriker to make a
pause with his fiddle.
"The horrible jest lasted till towards midnight, and then the tormentors
were willing to grant their victim some indulgence. The fiddler was
unbound, and he would have had to eat and drink, and his own dear pipe
of tobacco would have been restored to him, had not the company
immediately perceived to their astonishment that both his pipe and glass
stood already filled before him, although not a single soul amongst them
had lifted or touched either one or the other. If the guests had been
riotous before, they were hushed and quiet enough now. And Klaus, too,
struck up another tune _instanter_. He bowed ironically to the assembly,
emptied his glass, lit his pipe, and tucked his fiddle under his arm.
"'Thank you, gossip!' said he, 'thank you kindly for your christening. I
have enjoyed every thing--thoroughly; your compliments, your beer, your
tobacco, and your sport! Rest assured, Mike, I shall quit scores with
you, in good time, for all. As to my little godchild, you'll be pleased
to call the boy Nicholas, that is to say, if you are not tired of your
life. For yourself, Twirling-stick Mike,' he continued with a frown,
'depend upon it, you shall be settled, all in good time, very
comfortably amongst my children. Meanwhile, Fare-you-well!'
"And with these words, the little fellow, repeating his scornful
obeisance, hobbled away. He was heard to strike up a lively air, and
some of the guests, whose curiosity took them out of doors, averred that
he cut across the fields with supernatural swiftness, whilst there
glittered around him a bright tremulous light, in which at times the
tiniest phantoms were distinguishable.
"Whether this statement were really true, or whether a mere imagination,
came never to be rightly known; and it is most likely that nothing more
would have been said about it, if, on the following morning, the report
had not run like a fire through the village, that the Dwarf-piper, in
the night, had come to an untimely end, and was then lying as dead as
mutton on Twirling-stick Mike's farm and field, with his fiddle jammed
under his broad chin, and the bow still resting on the strings. Half the
village, headed by the authorities, sallied forth upon the intelligence.
Simon, you may be certain, was not long in following--and sure enough,
there lay the poor Dwarf, dead upon the ground. His head was half
immersed in the Dwarf's Well, which, in the dark, he had probably not
observed. But whether or not, Klaus Stringstriker had been upset, and
had stumbled, poor wretch, upon his death!
"It was very natural for Twirling-stick Mike to repent him suddenly of
his wanton cruelty. The scoffing words of the dwarf rang in his ears,
and he felt by no means easy. To make what amends he might to the
deceased, he had him sumptuously buried at his own expense, with funeral
oration, psalms, prayer, and benediction; and what is more, put up a
very pretty monument to his memory, which, in very legible characters,
made known the talents and virtues of the fiddler, and carried them down
to remote posterity. The Dwarf, however, was scarcely in his grave,
before all manner of strange reports were whispered about in the
neighbourhood. In the first place, Twirling-stick Mike's garden was said
to be haunted o' nights. Noises were heard and lights seen on the path
crossing his fields; and you had only to stray into the vicinity of the
Dwarf's Well to be forsaken at once of seeing and hearing. If Simon
enquired more particularly into these worrying rumours, every body
professed to know nothing at all of the matter. One man referred him to
his neighbour, and he to the next; who, in his turn, protested that the
whole was a heap of lies; or said any thing that seemed most likely to
appease the farmer's anxious state of mind. Simon, troubled as he was by
the absurd babbling of the people, was nevertheless unable to suppress
it, or prevent its growth. Indeed there was a small chance of its
diminishing, when, in less than two months, there was not a soul in the
neighbourhood who could not swear that he had been a witness to most
unearthly doings. There was no need of further mystery, of doubtful
head-shaking, and ominous whispers--every one had seen Klaus
Stringstriker near Twirling-stick Mike's house, playing his fiddle in
the clear light of the moon. It was true, none could aver that he had
heard a single note; but it was impossible to mistake his figure, and
that had been seen, time after time, gliding in from the adjoining
field, making the tour of Simon's house, and exhibiting all the
gesticulations of a violin-player. Many affirmed, too, that the fiddler
was followed by a swarm of fluttering lights causing an odd noise, like
nothing so much as the multitudinous clacking of little hammers. If the
Dwarf and his luminous retinue encountered any one, he stood still until
the latter had passed, and then quietly pursued his road. The more
inquisitive who had ventured to steal after the apparition, swore deep
and high that the Dwarf and his lights had gone hissing into the well
that stood upon Twirling-stick Mike's land, and then the ghostly
procession altogether ceased.
"Simon gave himself a deal of trouble to witness some of these
remarkable things; but he met with nothing; and accordingly, seeing that
the ghost of the dead sponsor in no way molested him, he permitted the
people to chatter on as they would. His indifference, indeed, had nearly
reduced all disagreeable rumours to silence, when another very sensible
unpleasantness took rise under his own roof.
"Young Klaus could hardly run alone before he manifested a most
undesirable faculty of seeing spirits. It grew with his years; and at
last it came to pass that no day or night went by upon which he had not
something very extraordinary to relate. The occurrences certainly were
chiefly of that nature that it required a most resolute and unbounded--
an absolute Christianly-simple faith to believe them: and since the
majority of Klaus's auditors were not excessively that way disposed, the
accounts of the boy were held for so much downright swagger; and the
poor ghost-seer acquired, to the no small vexation of his parent, the
unenviable nickname of _Mike's Lying Klaus_. It was very singular,
however, and could not fail to be remarked by every reflecting mind,
that all the stories related by young Nicholas were in close connexion
with the notorious well belonging to his father. There it was that he
saw prodigious flames blazing forth, gold burning, and dances performed
by the most grotesque and strangely-shaped little creatures. Passing
this spot, earth, sand, glass, and even silver-pieces, would strike him
on the head, without doing him the slightest injury. If he led his
waggon by the spring, his good horses had to strain and torture
themselves for a full quarter of an hour before they could draw the
empty wain from the spot. The wheels seemed to have been locked and set
fast, and yet the slightest hindrance could not be detected.
"Even to these incidents the ageing Simon had, by degrees, accustomed
himself; but at length, and all on a sudden, it became his own frightful
lot to perceive that his fine property was diminishing--yes, daily and
hourly dropping and dropping away from him. He lived economically, as he
had always done, even to parsimoniousness. The produce of his land, the
income from his twirling-stick trade, were as satisfactory as could be--
both improving! How could it happen then? Simon made known his misery to
his neighbours, craved counsel from his pastor. Each chucked in his
farthing's worth of wisdom; but it availed him nothing. In the
meanwhile, the strapping youth grew every day more and more a
ghost-seer; and the Dwarf was said to beset the premises of the farmer
nightly. Simon, at all events to show a reason in his complaints,
building upon these facts, boldly cast upon his son the imputation of
robbing him. Violent scenes ensued between the two--they quarrelled and
wrangled from morning till night; and at length, upon Simon's refusing
his assent to the marriage of his hulking boy with a very honest, but at
the same time somewhat uncouth and very poor girl--went bodily to law.
"Whilst father and son were valiantly tugging against each other in
court, the lawyers gleefully rubbing their hands over the case, and many
a good joint flying into their larders from the stalls of Twirling-stick
Mike, the substance of the honest farmer underwent rapid decay. His
neighbours, soon aware that Simon had falsely taxed his son, cleared up
the question, as folks in such cases are fain to do, with suppositions
and surmises. They gave out that the Dwarfs were gnawing away his
fortune; every body believed it, and from that moment forward, he was a
marked and doomed man.
"As the belief became general, Simon grew irritable and wild. He cursed,
and stormed, and raved, till his people trembled for their master's
reason. Vexation ate his flesh away, and Avarice, which had gained
entire possession of His soul, drove him restlessly about in the
endeavour to save and to secure as much as still remained to him. At
night, with his sullenly-burning lamp, he sped from room to room,
bearing in his two quivering hands leathern purses of money; then
shutting himself up in the most secret of his hiding-places, he counted
his dollars again and again--and with such haste and fear, that the cold
sweat dropped from him as he laboured. Horrible to relate, as often as
he added the same sums together, so often he found the total less. Oh,
it was like nothing else than the devil's own game; for the money,
unperceived by mortal eye, melted in the pure air!
"Unfortunately for Simon, he was a man of violent passions, and on one
occasion his fury betrayed him into blasphemous exclamations. Sadly
beside himself, he swore, with a most fearful oath, that he was ready
and willing to make over body and soul to the devil, or even to his old
gossip the fiddler, provided either of them would undertake to restore
to him the mass of wealth that had so unaccountably escaped from him.
"There is an old proverb that runs--_'Give the devil your little finger,
and he will take your whole hand.'_ And the truth of this saying Simon
was now about to experience; for he had scarcely brought his impious
words to a close, before the fiddler popped into his presence, too
willing to enter into any arrangement which the reckless farmer was
silly enough to propose. 'Here I am, gossip!' said the cunning little
rascal with well-assumed affability, 'and ready to do your will. Not
that I shall ask your body and soul. I am not so greedy. Bequeath me
your head at your death, you shall have all you ask, and I'll be
satisfied.'
"'Go to the devil, you bandy-legged monster!' screamed Michael in his
fury, poking his lamp at the same time under the Dwarf's beard, so that
the vapoury phantom was nigh being in a blaze.
"'Don't put yourself out, Mike; don't put yourself out!' said Klaus
patronizingly, seating himself upon a chest, and then tuning his fiddle.
'Getting into a passion won't bring the shiners back! What do you say,
gossip, to a tune? Will you dance if I play? I have improved
wonderfully, I can tell you, since I left this half-and-half sort of a
world. Nobody dances now to my touch who doesn't praise it to the skies.
You can't care much for dancing at your time of life, I know; and yet,
if you could get a ducat for every step, and one or two for every hop,
you would put your best foot forward, and try to do something any how--
wouldn't you?'
"'What, what, what? What's that you say?' cried Simon, squeezing his
empty money-bags. 'A ducat for every step! two for a hop! _Kremnitz_ or
_Dutch_, my dear old friend?'
"'_Kremnitz_, old gentleman, and full weight too!' replied the Dwarf.
'But,' added the little monster, 'about the head, Mike--what do you say,
am I to get it?'"
Simon put his hand to his hair--involuntarily.
"'Oh! I am no Turk, gossip!' said the fiddler. 'I sha'n't scalp you.
I'll gild every hair that you have on your crown; but your pate I must
have, or else I can say nothing about the ducats.'
"'But what do you mean to do with it, dear ducat--dear Klaus, I mean?'
asked the bewildered Mike.
"'That's my concern. I promise you not to hurt a hair; and your noddle
shall be kept warm enough,' added the creature with a hideous chuckle.
'I engage myself to that, by all the Kremnitz ducats in the world!'
"Hesitation seldom prospers. It was fatal to poor Mike. He couldn't
bring himself to answer. 'What,' he kept saying to himself--'what can I
want with my head when I am dead? What matters who gets it?'
"'Have you settled?' enquired the Dwarf. 'Don't keep me, Mike; there are
plenty of fellows who'll jump to get the ducats.'
"'Ducats! ducats!' continued Simon, still arguing with himself.--'What's
a dead head in a scale with ducats? Nothing at all!--precious ducats!
How many I have lost! one for a step, two for a hop. I had better close
the bargain!'
"'You won't have them, then!' exclaimed the Dwarf. "'Yes! Done--agreed!'
cried Simon eagerly. 'I'll consent, dear Klaus!' "'Very well!' replied
the Dwarf. 'We'll to business, then!'
"'You recollect the terms, dear gossip! One for a step, two for a hop;
and you are to have my head as soon as I die, and have no further use
for it. Now, play a very slow waltz, there's a good Klaus--very slow, if
you love me! Don't fiddle too long, and let the ducats come down
prettily!'
"The Dwarf made no reply; but simply laughed like a growling bear. He
cocked his fiddle under his chin, however, as quick as lightning;
scraped a little by way of timing, and then broke out. Klaus
Stringstriker had fiddled for a very few minutes before Simon was
springing about, and cutting such capers as no professional performer
had ever attempted, whilst the beams and rafters of the house quivered
again. The impoverished farmer held in his hands about twenty large
empty money-bags, which he grasped very tightly. It was quite wonderful
to see how at every caper, at every kick of the foot, there fell at
least two dozen real and true Kremnitz ducats, right down from his head
straight into the pockets. Down they came faster and faster, so thick
that before the dance was half over, the bags were all chokeful, and the
dancer himself hardly able to bear the weight of all his treasure. But,
mad with joy at the unexpected rushing back of all his wealth, he burst
into the wildest laughter, flung himself about like a lunatic, and
devoured with greedy gluttonous eyes the clinking, twinkling gold, that
in starry showers discharged itself around him.
"At the end of a short quarter of an hour, the bags were bursting in
Simon's hands. The Dwarf wriggled with delight, and played on--on--on;
and the old farmer, intoxicated and insane, jumped till his hoary and
fated skull struck against the ceiling. Now his joints cracked under the
weight of gold that he bore; but he could not put it from him, for the
bags stuck to his hands, as though they had grown to them. His strength
decayed; his thoughts languished. He tried to speak; but he could not
stammer out a word.
"'Gos-en-o, Kl-kl-oh-oh-oh'--
"The Dwarf kicked his feet with pleasure, and laughed again like a bear.
He never played in right earnest until now. He scraped with all his
might and main. Poor Twirling-stick Mike groaned, and his unhappy head
dropped exhausted upon his breast. Miserable man, his last capers were
cut! His dancing was no longer worth mentioning. He went up a little
way, like a baby's shuttlecock, and came down again feebly and dull. The
ducats poured out. The bags swelled; playing and dancing--dancing, such
as it was--went forward, and one terrible hour passed away. At last the
wrists of the farmer snapped asunder; his hands and the bags of gold
fell to the ground together. The dancer gave one desperate and
convulsive leap into the air. Klaus stopped his violin; and, in the next
instant, Simon lay dead upon the floor. Will it be believed that the
rascally Dwarf had fiddled every hair of the poor devil's head, and
brought them all down to his feet in the shape of ducats! Simon's skull
was as smooth and clean as if it had been shorn.
"The Dwarf put his fiddle up; quietly possessed himself of the
money-bags, and then grinned at the corpse before him.
"'Well, you old fool!' said he. 'Have I shaved your ugly jobber-nowl
clean enough? I don't want any of your tiresome barbers to do my work!
Are we quits, gossip? Can we wipe off the old scores yet, friend Simon?
No, no! We have something to do still! Let your boy look well to
himself, and get reconciled to my people whilst there is yet time!'"
* * * * *
Early in the morning, Simon was found lying dead on the floor. The
hairs of the unfortunate man, plucked out, and scattered over the
boards, in part confirmed the vehement declaration of the servants; viz.
that their master had wrestled with the devil, and had got the worst of
the bout. Young Klaus, however, shaken as he was by the unexpected
sight, at once guessed the true history. Returning home the night
before, from a nocturnal visit to his sweetheart, he had passed his
father's house, and here he had not only heard the playing of the
fiddler, but, looking through a crevice of the garret-door, he had
likewise discerned the very form of the Dwarf-spirit, and heard his
laughter, as well as the noisy leaping of his unhappy parent. In his
first grief at the frightful termination of his father's career, Klaus
hurled the bitterest execrations at the head of the revengeful
Stringstriker; cursed him over and over again, and himself no less, on
account of his plaguing, ghost-seeing faculty. Raving over the handless
body of Simon, he vowed at length, that if ever again the shadow of the
fiend crossed his path, he would double him up in a sack, and hang him
on the first tree that he came to.
This excited state of mind did not last very long with the volatile
youth; for, truth to say, the sudden dereliction of mortality on the
part of his quarrelsome old father, did not come altogether amiss to
him. What hindered him now from wedding the girl of his heart, and
leading as jolly a life as any? According to good old custom, he put on
his dress and looks of mourning, donned his three-cornered hat, pulled
it deep over his forehead, and walked decently and soberly up the
church-path to the parson's house.
'Reverend sir!' said the precious youth to the minister, 'the Lord has
been very gracious to my father, and this night he has taken him to
himself. May the Lord comfort us! If you please, reverend sir, he shall
be buried on Friday next; and I should like him to have a funeral
oration and a parentation. He was a good man, sir, and I know I shall
miss him at every turn and corner. But God's name be praised, sir, he
always sends us what's best!' And so saying, Klaus wiped the tears on
his eyes.
In due time old Simon was put under ground, and there was not a word to
be said by his many followers against either the deceased father or the
living son; for the latter gave a capital feast in honour of the
occasion, which, setting aside two bloody heads, passed off in the most
satisfactory manner. On the evening of the funeral, Klaus got very
impatient to look over his lawful inheritance. Bethinking him of the
avarice of his father, he had made up his mind to routing out no end of
wealth; for as to the old man's continual complaints and grumblings, he
had always looked upon them as so much flummery. To his great
astonishment and dismay, however, he found every chest and coffer empty.
Money-bags there were in plenty; but torn and moneyless, and the very
little ready cash that remained in the house was by no means sufficient
to satisfy the disappointed lawyers, whose bills, drawn out respectively
to the loss which they had suffered through the sudden demise of Mike,
were large enough, as you may believe.
This discovery and turn of affairs sensibly interfered with the
rejoicings of Klaus; and no wonder! For whilst he was still warm with
the idea of bringing his bride home to a well-stocked property, he had
to learn that he was actually as poor as a church-mouse. What could he
do? He was not long in forming a resolution. House and farm, field and
coppice, were in pretty good condition; no mortgages, as far as he knew,
cumbered the estate. Surely, till better times came, there would be no
difficulty in borrowing? At all events, the effort should be made. Klaus
went to Zittau to beg the loan of a thousand dollars from the trustees
of pious legacies. He stammered out his request to the board with as
much confidence as he could command; but whether his awkward way and
manner, or his unsteady look, or the wealth which it was supposed he
possessed, or the nickname which he bore--whether one or all of these
gave rise to suspicion and alarm, it is very certain that although
friend Nicholas received fine words enough to tear his pocket open, not
one farthing of money did he catch, but was fain to return home as rich
as he had come.
This was a heavy blow to the young farmer. As usual with him in seasons
of trouble, he thought of the Dwarf, and cursed him. Then he prayed for
a sight of the monster, only till he had wreaked his vengeance on him;
and then he went like a drunken man homeward. To his intense vexation,
as often as he relieved himself of an execration, his ear was assailed
with a scornful peal of laughter. It escorted him to his very door, and
there left him mad with rage, because he could by no means perceive
whence the mockery proceeded. Once at home again, he repeated the
rummaging of rooms, cellars, and corners, in the still unextinguished
hope of finding something, were it only paper bonds, of which he had
known his father, at one time, to possess several. His search availed
him nothing--the chests were empty--there was not an atom of money left.
As if this were not misery enough, he perceived, with inexpressible
grief, that the rafters of the house, the wainscoting of the rooms, were
beginning to totter and crack so fearful, that it would be impossible to
reside much longer beneath them. And oh, sorrow upon sorrow! those
unpleasant gentlemen, the lawyers, were daily asking payment, and
threatening an execution. Klaus grew very wretched. Breathing time, at
all events, was necessary, and so he sold the tavern and a considerable
portion of his land. With part of the proceeds he appeased the
blood-suckers; and with what remained, he purposed repairing his cracked
and rickety tenement.
Accustomed from his youth upwards to go to work with a full pocket, the
thrifty way of life to which he was obliged to conform, was any thing
but pleasant to him; but worse than all, and more difficult to support,
were the evidences of disrespect which poor Nicholas observed in the
conduct of the neighbouring farmers--and which every day became more
palpable. Before his poverty was known, as the son of his father, he had
been treated with some regard--and if folks did call him _Lying Klaus_,
it was more by way of joke than to give him pain. Now, however, the
neglect of him was bare-faced; and the meanest of the village learnt to
make their ill-natured remarks, and to fling his nickname over meadow
and field after him as he went. He was welcome nowhere--deserted and
forsaken on every side. Even in his work, he was the most unfortunate of
labourers. Ill-luck ever attended it. If he ploughed, either the
ploughshare would go to pieces, or the furrows would turn over so often,
that he could not stir. If he sowed in the serenest weather, when not a
breath of air was moving, a whirlwind would arise as soon as he had
begun, carrying the grain to some one distant spot, and rendering it
there perfectly useless. Sometimes he would find that he held a handful
of mere husks, and then if, in the bitterness of his soul, he began to
curse and tear his hair--he would all at once espy in those very husks--
eyes that fleered at him, whilst a horrible laughter echoed from every
side.
These were Klaus's out o' doors troubles. Those within were still
worse. His sound, strong horses perished one after another--till at last
he had nothing left in his stables but one old gaunt mare called
_Blässel_. A distemper broke out amongst his horned stock, and before a
month passed, destroyed every thing in his stalls, with the exception of
an old goat and a gormandizing and insatiable porker.
A much more sedate man than Klaus would have been ready to jump out of
his skin in the midst of so much disaster. Once more he had recourse to
a sale. With a heavy heart he put up his inheritance, and with
inexpressible dismay he received the first buyers. Upon their close
inspection of house and farm, it soon became too apparent that the whole
of the woodwork was thoroughly worm-eaten, and, in the ground-floor,
destructive fungus hard at work. Those who came inclined to buy, shook
their heads and wished him good-morning: and in less than
four-and-twenty hours after their departure, every soul in the parish knew
that Lying Klaus was as good as a bankrupt; that his house was already
tumbling about his ears; and that he himself would be forced to go from
house to house, and practise the art of lattice-tapping.[1]
[1] The more ancient village houses have still, for the most part,
before the house door, a kind of _lattice_, upon which the beggar taps,
by way of announcing himself to the dwellers.
"Rumour in this case proved a true prophet. The end of the summer found
Klaus's homestead all to pieces. The wind whistled through the broken
windows. Rats frolicked about the floor: a lease of the rafters was
taken by a society of martens, and Klaus was left the choice of making
friends with the vermin, or being dislodged from his miserable den
altogether.
"When a poor man suddenly becomes rich, there is no lack of good words
thrown away; but when a rich man suddenly comes to beggary, all that is
said is--that he is a deplorable wretch--that everybody expected it--and
that it serves him right. Klaus led a horrid life. He was shunned by
universal consent. The youngest urchins of the parish threw dirt at him,
made faces, called him Lying Klaus, and trotted after him, imitating the
gait and gestures of an ill-conditioned dwarf. If Klaus entered the
tavern--so lately his own property--the boors shrunk from him as though
he were a leper--the landlord lazily shoved a dirty glass before him,
and looked at the piece of money which he got in exchange, a dozen times
before he put it into his till. The most abandoned criminal, who had
undergone his ten years of imprisonment and hard labour, could not have
been treated more ignominiously. Had Klaus not lived on in a sort of
mental intoxication, he must have committed murder or manslaughter, if,
in his desperation, he had not even laid unholy hands upon himself.
"All help cut away, every means of support dried up, and the beggar
denied even the bread of charity, Klaus at length resolved upon
abandoning his birthplace, and seeking his fortune in the open world. He
had all along carried on his stick trade without being able to earn even
salt to his porridge. A small piece of copse-wood, of little value, for
which he had been unable to find a purchaser, he could yet call his
own--the lean and bony Blässel was also spared him. With sticks and
steed, therefore, he quitted his native place, and began to take his
rounds abroad, scarcely hoping to gather what was denied him amongst his
own people--a scanty pittance. It was little that poor Nicholas got to
break and bite upon his road; he made amends for the deficiency by
consulting the brandy flask, from which the deserted one sucked his
temporary solace. With the hot liquor in his head, he could whistle and
sing, forget his misery, and boldly face mankind.
"Late one evening, Klaus returned from a distant business tour. Blässel
had not a leg to stand upon, Klaus himself had eaten nothing the whole
day, and he was besides parched with thirst. To satisfy the cravings of
nature, he stepped, unwillingly enough, into _The Sun_ at _Herwigsdorf_.
The parlour was full of boors, one of whom, in a gruff voice, read aloud
the Weekly Intelligencer, whilst the rest remarked upon its contents.
Klaus edged himself into a corner to avoid observation, and mine host
brought him, for his two or three pence, a very melancholy supper. The
reading came at length to a close, and the stage then became alive. The
farmers discussed and argued the news that had been delivered to them,
until they grew very warm, and had exhausted all their eloquence, when
they commenced knocking the table with their doubled fists, for want of
better arguments. In the height of the dispute, a neighbouring miller--a
very learned gentleman--entered the apartment. He was at once
unanimously appealed to for a decision, and then nobody would abide by
his verdict. A general tumult ensued; in the midst of it, unlucky Klaus
was detected, and then politics and the welfare of mankind were
immediately lost sight of.
"'Devil take me!' cried one, advancing towards the wretched man, 'If
there doesn't sit Lying Klaus from _Starving Castle_!'
"Klaus was surrounded in an instant. The whole assembly hooted him, and
he for shame and rage would gladly have buried himself for ever in the
earth.
"Well, I will say," continued the unfeeling boor, "the rich Klaus has
become the very careful and thrifty. I wonder if the churchwarden means
to give him the bell-purse money for ever!"[1] Well, Liar, how gets on
the stick trade? Will you soon be able to patch your coat out of your
earnings? If you happen now to have a sixpence more than you want, I
think we may do a little business together. I have some four-year-old
straw that will come in well for your palace. It is eaten away a little
by the mice, but that doesn't matter. Why, what are you thinking of,
you nincompoop? Don't you know when Klaus wants straw, or money, or an
honest name, he has only to go to his couch-grassed stubble-fields, and
sneeze three times into the Dwarf's wall, and then he gets directly
what he asks for? Who wouldn't have a Dwarf for his godfather! a fellow
just three cheeses high, and a fiddle-scrapper A pretty scrape he has
made of it for you--only scraped your precious soul into hell, as he
would have done if Holy Peter had bound it three times round his
key-bit. It is a great pity though, that Dwarf-piper don't fiddle money
into his darling's pocket, as well as out of it. Kick the blackguard
out, pull his ears for him--I say he isn't honest. He can't be, for he
has dealings with the devil!'
[1] The churchwardens go about the church during the service, and
collect alms from the congregation _in a purse with a bell_.--TRANSLATOR.
"Many sinewy arms were stretched out at the moment to grasp the weak
defenceless man, who sat gnashing his teeth, and awaiting the assault,
whilst in his heart he cursed himself and all the world besides. The
miller called upon the company to desist, and they retreated a stop or
two, whilst he stepped forth, and placed himself at the side of the
unprotected wanderer.