the Nile, and found that the boat which we expected would be ready for
our voyage to Cairo, had conveyed a party towards the scene of a
festival, and might not return for some days. Here our situation was one
of severe suffering. We were stationed between two high ridges, composed
of mud thrown up in forming the bed of the canal, very dry of course,
and exceedingly dusty, and covered with mud huts. The intense heat, the
clouds of dust, and the smell of this place, where we were hemmed in by
boats and barges for two days and nights, without being able to improve
our situation (because it was necessary in order to be ready for the
Nile-boat to continue near the entrance of the canal), was infinitely
worse than sea-sickness, or any thing else in the way of inconvenience
we had hitherto experienced. Indeed the sea-sickness was welcome to me,
for it confined me to my bed, and spared me the pain of seeing my own
dear country, which holds so many and so much we love, fade from my
sight. However long or however short may be the time proposed by any
person for the purpose of visiting other countries, however pleasurable
their expectations, however full of hope their prospects, there are
regrets—there is a pang—on quitting _England_, which must be felt by the
wayfarer, but can never be described, and is never fully anticipated.
But I must not wander from my proper subject. Where the canal runs along
the narrow neck of land between the salt marsh of Mareotis and that of
Aboo-Keer, the sides are formed by solid masses of stone, to prevent, in
some degree the filtration of salt water into the Mahmoodeeyeh, as it
supplies the cisterns of Alexandria. In scarcely any part does this
canal occupy the bed of the _ancient_ canal of Alexandria, which it
crosses in several places. More than three hundred thousand men were
employed to dig it; and about twelve thousand of these are said to have
died in the course of ten months; many of them in consequence of
ill-treatment, excessive labour, and the want of wholesome nourishment
and good water. Their only implements in this work were the hoes which
are commonly used in Egyptian agriculture; and where the soil was moist
they scraped it up with their hands, and then removed it in baskets. The
whole length of the canal is nearly fifty British miles, and its breadth
about eighty or ninety feet. It was commenced and completed in the year
1819. The name of Mahmoodeeyeh was given to it in honour of Mahmoud, the
reigning sultán.
In two days our promised boat arrived, and we joyfully left the
Mahmoodeeyeh, and its gloomy prospect, where the peasants appeared to be
suffering from abject poverty, and where the mud huts, rising one above
another, many of them being built in a circular form, bore the
appearance by moonlight of the ruined towers of castles, with here and
there a gleam of red light issuing from the apertures.
The communication between the canal and the Nile was closed, therefore
we walked for a few minutes along the bank, and we rejoiced on entering
our boat to feel the sweetest breeze imaginable, and to look upon the
green banks (especially on the Delta side) of one of the most famous
rivers in the world.
The boats of the Nile are admirably constructed for the navigation of
that river. Their great triangular sails are managed with extraordinary
facility, which is an advantage of the utmost importance; for the sudden
and frequent gusts of wind to which they are subject, require that a
sail should be taken in almost in a moment, or the vessel would most
probably be overset. On many occasions one side of our boat was
completely under water, but the men are so skilful that an accident
seldom happens, unless travellers pursue the voyage during the night.
We ordered that our boat should not proceed at night, therefore we were
three days on the Nile.
A custom which is always observed by the Arab boatmen at the
commencement of a voyage much pleased me. As soon as the wind had filled
our large sail, the Reyyis (or captain of the boat) exclaimed
“El-Fát-’hah.” This is the title of the opening chapter of the Kur-’an
(a short and simple prayer), which the Reyyis and all the crew repeated
together in a low tone of voice. Would to Heaven that, in this respect,
the example of the poor Muslim might be followed by our countrymen, that
our entire dependence on the protecting providence of God might be
universally acknowledged, and every journey, and every voyage, be
sanctified by prayer.
On the first day we passed the town of Fooweh, where I could distinguish
eleven mosques with their picturesque domes and minarets, and a few
manufactories; the dwellings are miserable, but when viewed from a
little distance the whole has a pleasing appearance, for the minarets
are whitewashed, and the houses, for a town in Egypt, _have been_ good.
Numbers of women and girls belonging to this town were filling their
pitchers on the bank as we passed; while others were washing clothes;
which done, each proceeded to wash her hands, face, and feet, and
immediately returned with her pitcher or bundle on her head. A piece of
rag rolled in the form of a ring, and placed upon the head, served to
secure the pitcher in its erect position; and I constantly saw, during
our stay on the Mahmoodeeyeh, large and heavy pitchers carried by the
women on their heads, without a hand upraised to keep them steady.
Fooweh, like Matoobis, is celebrated for the beauty of its women; but as
our boat kept in the middle of the stream, I had no opportunity of
pronouncing on their personal attractions. The lower orders are mostly,
I think, remarkably plain. Their usual dress (and indeed frequently,
their only article of clothing, except the head veil) is a plain blue
shirt, differing little from that of the men, which is also commonly
blue. It is a general custom of the Egyptian women of this class to
tattoo some parts of their persons, particularly the front of the chin
and the lips, with blue marks; and like the women of the higher classes,
many of them tinge their nails with the dull red dye of the henna, and
arrange their hair in a number of small plaits which hang down the back.
I must not omit telling you that Fooweh is also famous for its
pomegranates, which are both plentiful and excellent in flavour.
We reached the village of Shubra Kheet shortly after sunset, and as our
boatmen recommended that our boat should be made fast under this place,
we remained there until the morning. It was then curious to see the
various occupations of the peasants, and to observe the lassitude with
which they labour. During our voyage several poor fellows floated
towards the boat, sitting as it were upright on the water, paddling with
their feet, and bearing each three water-melons, one in each hand, and
one on their heads. Their manner of swimming is extraordinary—they seem
perfectly at their ease.
On the second day we passed renowned Sais, and afterwards had a glimpse
of the great desert, and its almost immeasurable sea of sand. Sais was
the ancient capital of the Delta, one of the most celebrated cities of
Egypt, and the reputed birth-place of Cecrops, who, it is said, led a
colony of Saites to Attica, about 1556 years before the Christian era,
founded Athens, and established there the worship of Minerva (the
Egyptian Neith), the tutelar goddess of his native city. This place is
so choked up with rubbish that its ruins are scarcely worth visiting;
but the labour of excavation would probably be rewarded by interesting
discoveries. The modern name of the place is “Sá-el-Hagar,” that is,
“Sais of the Stone,” probably allusive to the great monolithic chapel
described by Herodotus as the most remarkable of the monuments here
existing in his time. The remains of Sais, viewed from the river, appear
merely like lofty and extensive mounds. They chiefly consist of a vast
enclosure, about half a mile in length, and nearly the same in breadth.
This is formed by walls of prodigious dimensions, being about fifty feet
thick, and, in several parts, considerably more than that in height,
constructed of large crude bricks, fifteen or sixteen inches in length,
eight in breadth, and seven in thickness. The rains, though very rare
even in this part of Egypt, have so much decayed these walls, that from
a little distance they are hardly to be distinguished from the rubbish
in which they are partly buried. Within the enclosure are only seen some
enormous blocks of stone, and the remains of some buildings of unburnt
brick, which appear to have been tombs, and several catacombs, which
have been explored and ransacked. The enclosure contained the famous
temple of the Egyptian Minerva, described by Herodotus, the portico of
which surpassed in its colossal dimensions all other works of a similar
nature, and was adorned with gigantic figures and enormous
andro-sphinxes. Before it was the famous monolithic chapel I have
mentioned, which was twenty-one cubits long, fourteen wide, and eight
high. It is related by Herodotus that two thousand boatmen were employed
during the space of three years in transporting this monolith down the
Nile from Elephantine. There was also, before the temple, a colossus, in
a reclining posture (or, more probably, a _sitting_ posture),
seventy-five feet in length, similar to that before the temple of Vulcan
at Memphis, which latter colossus was the gift of Amasis. Behind the
temple was a sepulchre, but for whom it was destined the historian
declines mentioning. Lofty obelisks were likewise raised within the
sacred enclosure, near a circular lake, which was lined with stone. This
lake served as a kind of theatre for nocturnal exhibitions of solemn
mysteries relating to the history of the unnamed person above alluded
to, who was, probably, Osiris; for, from feelings of religious awe, many
of the Egyptians abstained from mentioning the name of that god. Many
other towns in Egypt disputed the honour of being regarded as the
burial-place of Osiris. All the Pharaohs born in the Saitic district
were buried within the enclosure which surrounded the sacred edifices of
Sais; and one of those kings, Apries, founded here a magnificent palace.
Of the grand religious festivals which were periodically celebrated in
Egypt in ancient times, the third, in point of magnificence, was that of
Sais, in honour of Neith; the most splendid being that of Bubastis, and
the next, that of Busiris, both in Lower Egypt. That of Sais was called
“the festival of burning lamps,” because, on the occasion of its
celebration, the houses in that city, and throughout all Egypt, were
illuminated by lamps hung around them.
I mentioned that the boat we had been promised at the Mahmoodeeyeh had
conveyed a party towards the scene of a festival; and you may be
surprised to hear that the manners of the modern Egyptians are not
wholly different from those of the ancient Alexandrians, who flocked to
the licentious festivals celebrated at Canopus in honour of the god
Serapis. Innumerable boats covered the canal by night as well as by day,
conveying pilgrims of both sexes, dancing, singing, and drinking, and
availing themselves in every way of the religious licence afforded them.
So, in the present day, vast numbers of the male inhabitants of the
metropolis of Egypt, and persons from other parts, with numerous
courtesans, repair to the festivals celebrated in commemoration of the
birth of the seyyid[6] Ahmad El-Bedawee (a celebrated Muslim saint), at
Tanta, in the Delta, where swarms of dancing-girls and singers
contribute to their amusement, and where, I am told, brandy is drunk
almost as freely as coffee.
Footnote 6:
Seyyid is a title given to the descendants of the Prophet.
We passed, to-day, by the village of Kafr-ez-Zeiyát, which exhibited a
busy scene: numerous visitors of the seyyid landing there, on their way
to Tanta, and others embarking to return to their homes.
We arrived late at the village of Nadir, under which we remained for the
night. In the morning we found ourselves surrounded by fine buffaloes
standing in the water. Their milk is chiefly used, and the butter made
from it is very white and sweet. We often saw numbers of these animals
standing or lying in the water, for the Nile is in many parts extremely
shallow, and abounds with moving sandbanks. Hence the boats frequently
run aground, but they are generally pushed off without much difficulty
by means of poles, or the crew descend into the water and shove the
vessel off with their backs and shoulders. In a calm, the boat is towed
by the crew; and in several cases during our voyage, the whole boat’s
crew, consisting of ten men, were thus drawing it, while no one remained
with us but the Reyyis. It was astonishing to see how well they
performed this laborious task, in the heat of July; very seldom stopping
to take rest, and then only for a short time. The boatmen generally sing
while the vessel is under sail, and they often accompany their songs
with the rude music of the darebukkeh and zummárah, which are a
funnel-shaped earthen drum and a double reed-pipe. There is something
very agreeable in the songs of the boatmen, although the airs they sing
are most strange. There is so much of contentment in the tones of their
voices that it does one good to hear them.
The most common kind of passage-boat, or pleasure-boat, is called a
kangeh, also pronounced kanjeh. It is long and narrow, and does not draw
much water. It has two masts, with two large triangular sails, and a low
cabin, which is generally divided into two or more apartments, having
small square windows, which are furnished with blinds, or glasses, and
sliding shutters in the inside. In our boat we were exceedingly worried
by beetles, bugs, and fleas; and these seriously annoyed me on account
of my poor children, whose rest was sadly disturbed, and their very
patience and cheerfulness increased our sympathy. Indeed, these young
wayfarers made us cast many a longing wish for their sakes towards the
comforts of a home.
During the nights our musquito-curtains diminished but did not remove
the inconvenience; but they are invaluable, as they prevent all attacks
from large reptiles, although bugs and fleas are proof against all
precaution.
The boats belonging to the Turkish grandees are very gay: bunches of
flowers are commonly painted on the panels of the cabin, both within and
without; and the blood-red flag, with its white crescent and star or
stars, waves at the stern. Other boats are more simple in their
decorations, and all extremely picturesque.
On this day of our voyage, we passed little worthy of remark, excepting,
indeed, the groups of noble and graceful palm-trees, which form a
characteristic and beautiful feature in every Egyptian landscape. The
villages presented a curious effect, from almost every hut being crowned
with a conical pigeon-house, constructed of earthen pots. With these
cones, frequently as large as the huts themselves, almost every village
hereabouts abounds.
We observed many carcasses of cattle floating upon the water, or lying
by the banks of the river, for Egypt is at present visited by a severe
murrain.[7]
Footnote 7:
This murrain lasted more than three months, and reminded us of that in
the time of Moses.
During our voyage we saw several instances of mirage (called by the
Arabs seráb); but the apparent clearness of the mock water destroyed the
illusion; for the Nile, generally turbid, was then particularly so; and
it was impossible to strain the imagination so far as to conceive that a
_clear_ lake should exist near the banks of the river. Yet it was an
interesting and curious phenomenon, and indeed rendered painfully
interesting by the knowledge that many a perishing wanderer in the
desert had bitterly tasted the disappointment its mimicry occasions.
I can say little of the beauty of the banks of the Nile. They are in
many places sufficiently high to obstruct the view, and broken and
perpendicular. The Delta side certainly often presented to the eye a
sloping bank of refreshing green, but with scarcely any diversity. I am
not disposed to underrate the prospect; but you have doubtless heard
that the borders of the Nile are seen in all their beauty about a month
after the decrease of the river, which has left its fertilizing soil for
a considerable space on either side, when its banks seem covered with a
carpet of the brightest emerald green, and its little islands are
crowned with the most brilliant verdure.
Our voyage was made during its increase; and when, on the third night,
our boat was made fast to a sandy island, no village being in the
neighbourhood under which the Reyyis thought we could safely pass the
night, we all congratulated ourselves and each other that our boating
was nearly at an end.
Early on the following morning we descried the venerable Pyramids, but
the undulations of the heated atmosphere on the surface of the
intermediate plain prevented their being distinctly visible. They were
three leagues distant.
We shortly after arrived at Boulak, the principal port of Cairo, and
with our arrival came the necessity that I and my sister-in-law should
equip ourselves in Eastern costume. There was no small difficulty in
this ceremony, and when completed, it was stifling to a degree not to be
forgotten. Imagine the face covered closely by a muslin veil, double at
the upper part, the eyes only uncovered, and over a dress of coloured
silk an overwhelming covering of black silk, extending, in my idea, in
every direction; so that, having nothing free but my eyes, I looked with
dismay at the high bank I must climb, and the donkey I must mount, which
was waiting for me at the summit. Nothing can be more awkward and
uncomfortable than this riding-dress; and if I had any chance of
attaining my object without assuming it, I should never adopt it; but in
English costume I should not gain admittance into many hareems: besides,
the knowledge that a Muslim believes a curse to rest on the “seer and
the seen,” makes one anxious not to expose passers-by to what they would
deem a misfortune, or ourselves to their malediction.
My brother, in his “Modern Egyptians,” has represented the manner in
which the habarah is worn by the native ladies of Egypt. The Turkish
ladies close it in front, esteeming it improper to show the colour of
the sebleh or tób beneath.
The house dress is well suited to the climate and extremely picturesque,
but the walking-dress is grotesque and curious.
With a short account of our ride of nearly two miles from Boulak to
Cairo, I shall conclude.
All mounted, and preceded by a janissary, we looked in wonder, as we
rode through Boulak, at the dilapidated state of this suburb. There are,
indeed, good houses there, I am assured, but we had not the good fortune
to see them, and we emerged gladly from its narrow streets to an open
space, where soon, however, the dust (which rose in clouds from the
tread of our easy-paced donkeys) so annoyed us, that for the first time
I felt it desirable that nothing but the eyes should be uncovered. At
length we fairly entered Cairo, and my astonishment increased tenfold.
I wrote to you that the streets of Alexandria are narrow; they are
_wide_ when compared with those of Cairo. The meshreebeeyehs, or
projecting windows, facing each other, above the ground-floors,
literally touch in _some_ instances; and in _many_, the opposite windows
are within reach.
The first impression received on entering this celebrated city, is, that
it has the appearance of having been deserted for perhaps a century, and
suddenly repeopled by persons who had been unable, from poverty or some
other cause, to repair it, and clear away its antiquated cobwebs. I
never saw such cobwebs as hung in many apertures, in gloomy dark
festoons, leading me to consider the unmolested condition of their
tenants. I wish I could say that I do not fear these creatures; but
surely in the insect world there is nothing so savage-looking as a black
thick-legged spider.
After passing through several of the streets, into which it appeared as
though the dwellings had turned out nearly all their inhabitants, we
arrived at an agreeable house situated in the midst of gardens, in which
we are to take up our temporary abode. Graceful palm-trees, loaded with
their fruit, meet our eyes in every direction, while acacias, bananas,
orange and lemon trees, pomegranate trees, and vines, form a splendid
variety, and but for one essential drawback, the coup d’œil would be
charming. This drawback is the want of refreshing showers. The foliage
on which we look is perfectly covered with dust, and the soil of the
gardens is watered by a wheel worked by a patient bullock, who pursues
his round-about with little intermission, and thrives in his persevering
labour.
The plan of the gardens is very curious; they are divided by long
parallel walks, with gutters on either side, and subdivided into little
square compartments, each about two yards wide, by ridges of earth about
half a foot high, and the water is admitted into these squares, one
after another. When I looked upon the little ditches and squares of
water, remaining for some time without absorption, I could not but
remember our bright pretty gardens in England, and how carefully in
watering our flowers we avoided saturating the mould, both because it
would be injurious to them, and displeasing to the eye—and these
recollections almost brought me to the conclusion that a garden in Egypt
is not worth the trouble of cultivation—so much for national prejudice
and love of home scenes. Adieu!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LETTER IV.
Cairo, August, 1842.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
Although prepared by the motley groups at Malta, and the changing scene
and variety of costume at Alexandria, for much that is more astonishing
to the European in Cairo, I find the peculiarities of this place and
people are beyond my most extravagant expectations. The Shubra road
passes very near our windows, and I am constantly attracted by the
various processions which wind their way to and from this city.
The wedding processions, in which the poor bride walks under a canopy of
silk, not only veiled, but enveloped in a large shawl, between two other
females, amuse me much; while the tribe before the “destined one,”
occasionally demonstrate their joy by executing many possible, and, to
our ideas, many impossible feats, and the rear is brought up by the
contributions of children from many of the houses _en route_. The bride
must, indeed, be nearly suffocated long before she reaches her
destination, for she has to walk, frequently almost fainting, under a
midday sun, sometimes a long distance, while a few musicians make what
is considered melody with drums and shrill hautboys, and attending
females scream their zag-háreet (or quavering cries of joy), in
deafening discord in her train.
The funeral processions distress me. The corpse of a man is carried in
an open bier, with merely a shawl thrown over the body, through which
the form is painfully visible. The body of a woman is carried in a
covered bier, over which a shawl is laid; and an upright piece of wood,
covered also with a shawl, and decorated with ornaments belonging to the
female head-dress, rises from the forepart. The corpses of children are
borne on this latter kind of bier.
One sound that I heard as a funeral procession approached, I can never
forget; it was a cry of such deep sorrow—a sob of such heartfelt
distress, that it was clearly distinguished from the wail of the hired
women who joined the funeral chorus. We were immediately drawn to the
windows, and saw a man leading a procession of women, and bearing in his
arms a little dead infant, wrapt merely in a shawl, and travelling to
its last earthly home. The cry of agony proceeded, I conclude, from its
mother, and could only be wrung from a nearly bursting heart. Contend
against me who may, I must ever maintain my opinion, that no love is so
deep, no attachment so strong, as that of mother to child, and of child
to mother.