Cairo and the Arabian Nights.--Street Scenes and Cries.--Camels and
Donkeys.--Turkish Bazars in Old Cairo.--Water Carriers.--The
Pyramids of Gizeh.--The Sphinx.--Interesting Visit to a Native
House.--Mosque of Mehemet Ali.--The Rotten Row of Cairo.--The
Khedive's Palace.--Egyptian Museum.--Mosque of Amer.--Whirling and
Howling Dervishes.--Suez Canal.--Ismailia and Port Said.--Island of
Malta.--City of Valetta.--Palace of the Knights.--Bird's-eye View.
Cairo is nearly the size of Boston, having a population of about four
hundred thousand. It forms a strange medley of human life,--a many-hued
crowd constantly pouring through its thoroughfares, dirty lanes, and
narrow streets, in picturesque confusion. On one side the observer is
jostled by a liveried servant all silver braid and bright buttons, and
on the other by an Arab in loose white robe and scarlet turban; now by a
woman with her face half-concealed beneath her yasmak, and now by one
scarce clothed at all; by jaunty Greeks in theatrical costume, and
cunning Jews with keen, searching eyes; by tempting flower-girls, and by
shriveled old crones who importune for alms; by Franks, Turks, and
Levantines; by loaded donkeys and lazy, mournful-looking camels--a
motley group. The water-carrier, with his goatskin filled and swung
across his back, divides the way with the itinerant cook and his
portable kitchen. In short, it is the ideal city of the Arabian Nights.
The Esbekyeh is the Broadway of Cairo, and its contrast to the mass of
narrow lanes and passages where the native bazars are located, as well
as the dingy houses of the populace, only adds to its brilliancy.
Like Paris, it is a city of cafes. During the evening and far into the
night, crowds of individuals of every nationality are seen seated in
groups before them in the open air, drinking every sort of known liquid,
but coffee taking precedence of all others. In picturesqueness of
costume, the Turk leads the world. There is none of the buttoned-up
aspect of Europeans about him. His graceful turban and flowing robes are
worthy of the classic antique, while the rich contrast of colors which
he always wears adds finish to the general effect. As he sits
cross-legged before his open bazar, smoking his long pipe, he looks very
wise, learned, and sedate, though in point of fact, as has been shrewdly
said, there are doubtless more brains under the straw hat of a Yankee
peddler than under three average turbans. The dark, narrow lanes and
endless zigzag alleys had an indescribable interest, with their
accumulated dirt of neglect and dust of a land where rain is so seldom
known. One looks up in passing at those overhanging balconies, imagining
the fate of the harem-secluded women behind them, occasionally catching
stolen glances from curious eyes peering between the lattices. What a
life is theirs! Education is unknown among the Egyptian women. They have
no mental resort. Life, intellectually, is to them a blank. There was a
mingled atmospheric flavor impregnating everything with an incense-like
odor, thoroughly Oriental. One half expected to meet Ali Baba and the
Forty Thieves, as we still look for Antonio and the Jew on the Rialto at
Venice. The whole city, with myriads of drawbacks, was yet very sunny,
very interesting, very attractive. The dreams of childhood, with those
veracious Arabian stories and pictures, were constantly before the
mind's eye, in all their extravagant absurdities, stimulating the
imagination to leap from fancy to fancy as it achieved grotesque
impossibilities, and peopled the present scene as in the days of Haroun
Alraschid.
Camels and donkeys were in endless numbers; the latter, small creatures
carrying enormous loads, and often having big, lazy men on their
backs,--so immeasurably disproportioned to the animals as to seem liable
to break their tiny limbs like pipe stems. Of course the fable, wherein
the old man was told it was more fitting that he should carry his ass
than that his ass should carry him, occurred to us. Scores of Egyptian
porters, bent half double, carried on their backs loads that would
stagger a brewer's horse. Women who rode their ponies and donkeys
astride, man-fashion, were yet very careful to cover their faces from
view, their eyes gleaming out of peep-holes like those of a cat in the
dark. Others, again, jostled you in the street with little naked
children straddling one shoulder, and holding on by both hands to the
mother's head. People riding upon donkeys--used in place of cabs
here--require a boy to follow behind them with a stick to belabor the
poor creatures; otherwise, being so trained, they will not move a step
forward. Those who drive through the streets in carriages have a runner
to precede them, gorgeously dressed, and carrying a long white wand in
his hand, who is constantly crying to clear the way. These runners go as
fast as a horse ordinarily trots, and seem never to tire. The common
people lie down on the sidewalk, beside the road, in nooks and corners,
anywhere in the open air, to sleep off their fatigue like a dog.
Speaking of dogs: here, as in Constantinople, their name is legion, and
they appear to have no special masters, shrinking away into holes or
behind bales of goods during the day, and coming forth by night to seek
for food from the debris of the streets, like jackals in India or crows
in Ceylon. Every public square has its fountain, and there are two
hundred in Cairo, where the domestic portion of the households come to
obtain water. The young girls carry water gracefully poised in jars upon
their heads, displaying forms and gait of faultless beauty. Some of
these girls scrupulously screen their faces from the public eye; others
roguishly remove the yasmak when a European smiles at them, and tinkle
their silver bracelets as full of roguery as a Viennese.
What a motley aspect these Cairo bazars present! This old Turk, with
flowing caftan and white turban, from his dingy quarters dispenses
delicious odors, curious pastes and essences, with kohl for the eyes and
henna for the fingers. Another has piles of sandal-wood fans, beads, and
cheap jewelry of silver and gilt; now we come upon a low platform spread
with Syrian crapes of all colors, hues, and patterns, to satisfy the
gaudy taste of the slaves of the harem and the negresses of the Soudan;
here are sweetmeats, dates stuffed with almonds and honey and sugar,
combined in a tempting mixture, with added coloring matter; again we
have pipes of all shapes and sizes, with delicate stems of nicely
wrought amber, and stores of trinkets from Stamboul; here are red and
yellow slippers of kid and satin, some elaborately wrought in silver and
gilt, and all turned up at the toes. The narrow way is crowded with
white and red turbans, women with fruit in baskets upon their heads,
strong and wiry Bedouins leading their horses and taking count of
everything with their sharp black eyes. They are the veritable sons of
the desert. Nile boatmen, Abyssinian slaves, and lazy Egyptians, with
Greeks, Italians, and Maltese, make up the jostling crowd of the bazars;
and amid all this one feels inquisitive as to where Aladdin's uncle may
be just now, with his new lamps to exchange for old ones.
Your local guide will suggest a short excursion to the Island of Roda,
and it is best to go there: if you do not, some one will tell you that
it was a great omission; that you will never know what you have missed,
and so forth! It is reached by a ferry-boat at a fee of a few pennies.
Here the gardener points out the identical spot where Moses was rescued
by the king's daughter! Here is to be seen the Nilometer, a square well
connected with the Nile, having in its centre an octagonal column on
which is inscribed Arabian measures. The flora of the island was
interesting, showing a large array of palms, oranges, lemons, bananas,
date, and fig-trees. Here also was pointed out to us the henna plant,
which we had not before seen, and from whence comes the dye with which
the Eastern women tint their fingers, nails, and the palms of their
hands. The plant is seen here in the form of a well-trimmed dwarf bush,
but it grows more like a tree in its natural state.
The street cries of Cairo are unique. At the early break of the day, or
rather at the moment of sunrise, the muezzin is heard: "To prayers, to
prayers, O ye believers!" Mustapha translated for us. Here was a seller
of peas, crying: "O parched peas. Nuts of love!" He was a rough fellow
but had a mellow voice. All those itinerants qualify, or recommend
their goods by added words; thus a girl, with cut up sugar-cane in a
basket upon her head, cried: "Sugar-canes; white sugar-canes," though
the article was black and blue. The water-carrier, with a full skin
slung over his shoulder, shouted: "God's gift, limpid water!" A long
bearded Copt cried: "O figs; O believers, figs!" and so on. When the
crowd is dense in the narrow streets lined by the bazars, the donkey-boy
shouts: "O woman, to the left!" or if some peddler of goods be in the
way, he or she is designated by the article on sale, as: "O oranges, to
the right!" or "O eggs, out of the way!" This, which sounds so odd, is
meant in good faith, and answers the desired purpose. No one calls out
in Arabic, addressing another, without prefixing some expletive. Thus
the dealer of sweetmeats drawls out: "In the name of the Prophet,
comfits." Even the beggar says: "O Christian, backsheesh!" as he leans
upon a crutch and extends his trembling hand. If you respond, all is
well; if not, your ears will be assailed by a jumble of Arabic, which,
if your guide faithfully translates to you, will probably be found to
signify a hearty wish that Allah may roast your grandfather.
The pyramids of Gizeh are situated about ten miles from Cairo, and after
crossing the Nile by a remarkable iron bridge, guarded at either end by
two bronze lions, are reached by a straight level road lined with
well-trimmed trees. This road terminates at a rocky plateau which serves
to give these wonderful structures an elevated site, as well as to form
a natural foundation for the enormous weight of solid stone to be
supported. There is always an importuning group of Arabs here, who live
upon the gratuities obtained from visitors, and they are so persistent
us to lead many people to employ them solely for the purpose of ending
their annoyance. These hangers-on assist people to ascend and descend
the pyramids for a fixed sum, or for a few shillings will run up and
down them like monkeys. On the way between Cairo and the pyramids,
through the long alley of acacias, we passed hundreds of camels bound to
the city, laden with green fodder, and newly cut clover, for stable use
in town. They do not employ carts; the backs of camels and donkeys
supersede the use of wheels.
Nothing new can be written about these monuments. Famous and hoary,
doting with age, the pyramids were disappointing to us,--not as to size,
for they are immense. Every one is familiar with the marvelous
statistics relating to them. But what do they really amount to? They
simply show, standing there upon the border of the desert, a vast
aggregate of labor performed by compulsion, and only exhibit the supreme
folly of the monarchs who thus vainly strove to erect monuments which
should defy all time and perpetuate their fame. Symbols of ancient
tyranny and injustice, tears, and death. To-day not even the names of
their founders are known. There are plausible suppositions enough about
them, each investigator and writer upon the subject having plenty of
argument to support his special convictions and theory; but so far as
the simple truth is concerned the history of Cheops is much better
standing as a blank than resting amid a confusion of very thin
speculations. There is no genius evinced in the design or execution of
the pyramids. Neither art, taste, nor religion are in any way subserved
by these unequaled follies. Nothing could be ruder: there is no
architectural excellence exhibited in them; they are merely enormous
piles of stone; that is absolutely all. Some pronounce them marvelous
evidences of ancient greatness and power. True; but if it were
desirable, we could build loftier and larger ones in our day. As they
are surely over four thousand yours old we admit that they are
venerable, and they enjoy a certain consideration on that account. In
the religious instinct which led the Buddhists to build, at such
enormous expense of time and money, those cave temples of Elephanta,
Ellora, and Carlee; in the idolatrous Hindoo temples of Madura, Tanjore,
and Trichinopoly, the shrines of Ceylon, the pagodas of China, and the
rich temples of Nikko, one detects an underlying and elevating
sentiment, a grand and reverential idea, in which there may be more of
truth and acceptable veneration than we can appreciate; but in the
pyramids we have no expression of devotion; only an embodiment of
personal vanity, which hesitated at nothing for its gratification, and
which has only proved a total failure.
The immensity of the desert landscape, and the absence of any object for
comparison, make these three pyramids seem smaller than they are, but
the actual height of the largest, that of Cheops, is nearly five hundred
feet, and it looks to be of that height when one is far away from its
base. The fixed object of the pyramids is still a subject of learned
discussion, as well as by whom they were built. The theory that they are
royal tombs is generally accepted; and yet have not the mummies of bulls
and other animals been found in them? All record relating to Cheops is
at least very questionable; thus history fades into fable, and is
clouded with doubt. Bunsen claims for Egypt nearly seven thousand years
of civilization and prosperity before the building of these monstrous
monuments. We do not often pause to consider how little real history
there is. Conjecture is not history. If contemporary record so often
belies itself, what ought we to consider of that which comes through the
shadowy distance of ages? It will be remembered that a mummy of a human
being, taken from the smallest of the three pyramids, that of Myceninus,
is to be seen in the British Museum. The familiar story of the beautiful
Egyptian princess, who is said to have erected this pyramid with the
fortunes of her many lovers, will occur to the reader. A volume of
legendary matter could be filled relative to these structures, which are
called pyramids of Gizeh, after the crumbled city which once stood so
near to them.
Not many hundred feet from the pyramids, on a somewhat lower plain,
stands that colossal mystery, the Sphinx. The Arabs call it "The Father
of Terror," and it certainly has a most weird, unworldly look. Its body,
and most of the head, is hewn out of the solid rock where it stands, the
upper portion forming the head and bust of a human being, to which is
added the paws and body of an animal. The great size of the figure will
be realized when we recall the fact that the face is thirty feet long
and half as wide. The body is in a reclining, or rather a sitting
posture, with the paws extended forward some fifty feet or more. This
strange figure is believed to be of much greater antiquity than the
pyramids, but no one knows how old it is. Notwithstanding its mutilated
condition, showing the furrows of time, the features have still a sad,
tranquil expression, the whole reminding us, in its apparent purpose, of
the great bronze image Dai-Butsu at Kamakura, though it is some five
thousand years older, at least, than the Japanese figure. There is also
the foundation of an ancient temple near at hand, the upper portion of
the structure having long since crumbled to dust. This is supposed to
have been in some way connected with the great statue, half animal and
half human in form. Ages ago, from a sanctuary between the lion-like
paws of the sphinx, sacrifices were undoubtedly offered, as
archaeologists believe, of human beings, to the divinity it was designed
to represent. Here, for five or six thousand years, more or less, this
strange figure has remained unchanged in the midst of change, through
ancient Ethiopian dynasties, mediaeval battles, and pestilences; even to
our day, calm, unalterable, crumbling in parts, but still bodily extant,
and doubtless the oldest known object erected by the hand of man.
In a visit to the house of our guide in Cairo, an intelligent Turk, who
wore the full traditional costume of his people, and was a person of
some note, though not above receiving eight francs per day for his
services, it was interesting to observe the domestic arrangements, which
he assured us were similar to those of most of his neighbors. The rooms
were of various heights, and irregular in formation, requiring one to
constantly ascend or descend a couple of steps in passing from one room
to another, no two being of the same height,--a most incongruous
arrangement, the object of which was not apparent. The placing of the
windows in the dwelling also struck us as being very odd, until the
explanation that the design was to prevent being overlooked by one's
neighbors. The guide touched a secret spring and showed a door, where we
should not have supposed one to exist, leading into a dark, descending
passage to the rear and outside of the house. This, he explained, was
designed to afford an escape in case of emergency, and was only known to
the builder and himself. "All houses in Cairo have some such passages,"
he remarked. A few minutes later, in a dark corner, a secret door was
caused to open, half the size of the first, and to which he pointed
mysteriously. "And what is this for?" we asked. "It is to hide treasures
in, and to secrete one's self in haste, when desirable," he replied. One
would suppose that the universality of these architectural secrets would
rob them of all security or usefulness. There was one portion of the
house not open to us, which was, as may be supposed, the apartments
occupied by Mustapha's wives, of whom he acknowledged to have four
behind the latticed blinds of the overhanging balcony.
Although there are plenty of schools in Cairo, such as they are, only
boys are taught to read and write in them. Girls, even among the wealthy
classes, are not taught, as a rule, the simplest rudiments of education.
They, however, acquire some accomplishments of a domestic
character,--such as sewing, embroidery,--and often play upon some simple
musical instrument of a string character. We saw in Mustapha's house a
mandolin which was evidently used by the women of the harem.
The Mosque of Mehemet Ali, with its tapering minarets overlooking all
Cairo, was found to be quite a modern edifice, scarcely more than half a
century in age, but it is a very remarkable and beautiful structure,
and of great cost. The spacious building is lined throughout with
Oriental alabaster, and the exterior is of the same costly finish. There
is the sarcophagus of Mehemet Ali, the most enlightened of modern
Egyptian rulers, before which lamps are burning perpetually. The
interior of this mosque in its combined effect seemed to be the most
effective, architecturally, of any temple of the sort which we had
visited. There is a height, breadth, and solemn dignity in its aspect,
which earnestly impresses one. The exterior is much less striking, but
yet admirably balanced and harmonized. The lofty situation of the mosque
commands one of the most interesting views that can well be conceived
of. The city, with its countless minarets and domed mosques, its public
buildings and tree-adorned squares, its section of mud-colored houses
and terraced roofs, lies in the form of a crescent at the visitor's
feet, while the plains of Lower Egypt stretch far away in all
directions. The tombs of the Memlooks lie close at hand, full of
suggestiveness, as also does the lonely column of Heliopolis, four
thousand years old, marking the site of the famous "City of the Sun."
Beyond and towards the sea is the land of Goshen, where the sons of
Jacob fed their flocks. A little more westerly in the mysterious Nile is
seen the well-wooded island of Roda, quietly nestling in the broad bosom
of the river. The grand Aqueduct, with its high arches reaching for
miles, reminds one of the Campagna at Rome; while beyond loom up the
time-defying pyramids, the horizon ending at the borders of the great
Libyan Desert. Far away to the southwest a forest of palms dimly marks
the site of dead and buried Memphis, where Joseph interpreted a
monarch's dream. Twilight was approaching when we were there The
half-suppressed hum of a dense Eastern population came up from the busy,
low-lying city, and a strange, sensuous flavor of sandal-wood, musk, and
attar of roses floated upon the golden haze of the sunset, indelibly
fixing the Oriental scene on the memory.
A visit to the Shoobra Palace, in the environs of Cairo, took us over a
fine road and through a shady avenue of sycamores and lebbec-trees, the
latter remarkable for its umbrageous character. This is the favorite
drive of the citizens at twilight, where every known modern style of
carriage may be met, from the Khedive's equipages, four-in-hand, and
those of the ladies of his harem, to the single English gig or dog-cart.
There are also the light American trotting wagons, elegant European
barouches, mingled with equestrians upon spirited Arab horses; also
people mounted upon nice donkeys,--for some of these animals are highly
bred. Again, richly caparisoned camels from the Khedive's stables
occasionally heighten the Eastern aspect of the scene, which recalled
the Maidan of Calcutta most vividly. The roadway is not devoid of
pedestrians, who come to see and to be seen. In short, the Shoobra Road
is the Rotten Row of Cairo. Even here fashion steps in after her
arbitrary manner, and establishes Friday and Sunday afternoons as the
"swell" days for riding or driving on the avenue. But we started for the
Khedive's Palace, and have stopped to gossip by the way.
The Summer Palace at Shoobra is surrounded by beautiful gardens, to
visit which a permit is required from city officials; but not being thus
prepared, a little silver was found to be equally effective with the
obliging custodian. The apartments of the palace are numerous and
elegantly furnished, in a mixed Turkish and European style, with divans,
lounges, chairs, tables of inlaid marble, and massive curtains mingled
with silk and satin hangings. The grand drawing-room was furnished in
gold and white satin; the ladies' parlor in green satin and silver; each
anteroom in different colors; all gorgeous, and a little fantastic. The
great number of mirrors was almost confusing; and French clocks, two in
some rooms, stared at one from all directions. The mirrors produced a
serious danger by their reflected perspective, and one was liable to
walk boldly into them. In the centre of the palace was an area open to
the sky, upon which doors and windows faced, after the Moorish style, as
at Cordova and Toledo, in the centre of which was an artificial lake
formed by a huge marble basin, the whole surrounded by corridors of
white marble. Here were placed divans, lounges, and luxurious chairs,
besides many choice plants in richly ornamented porcelain vases,
evidently forming the domestic lounging place of the family. We observed
an American piano in a cozy little room opening upon this corridor, and
a billiard-table in another. In the extensive grounds surrounding the
palace, landscape-gardening and modern floral effects have been finely
carried out by a skilled foreigner, who had been imported for this
special purpose from Versailles. The variety of fruit was really
remarkable, embracing orange, lemon, banana, fig, peach, and pear-trees,
and a great variety of choice flowers were in their glory. The
peach-trees,--it was late in February,--well-divided about the long,
broad paths, were in full splendor of blossom, dotting the whole view
with huge clusters of pink flowers delightful to the eye. The walks were
clean, nicely cared for, and the shrubbery admirably trimmed, though
there was no attempt at Chinese grotesqueness in shape and figures.
Nature was permitted to follow her own sweet will as to form and
luxuriousness of growth, filling the air with a mingled perfume of
roses, heliotrope, and lemon-verbena. As we left the grounds each was
presented with a bouquet by the disinterested (?) gardener.
The exhibition of Egyptian antiquities in the Cairo Museum is the most
extensive and complete collection in existence, affording historic data
of priceless value to the antiquarian. Here we have tangible history
taking us back four thousand five hundred years before the coming of
Christ, representing not only the art and culture, but also the religion
of those remote periods, even to the days of Menes, the first recorded
king. A wooden statue over four thousand years old, recovered from
Memphis, launches one's imagination upon a busy train of thought. Here
were curious tables, papyrus, bronze images, mummies, sculptures from
stone, objects relating to domestic life, arms, rings, combs, vases, and
many other articles which were in use four thousand years ago. By the
Boulak Museum it is easily proved that the glory of Egyptian art
belonged to the age of Cheops, its decadence to that of Rameses II. The
collection, as we have intimated, throws a light upon Egyptian life and
history for nearly five thousand years before the Christian era, but it
is only a dim light. There can be but little consecutive reading of
these isolated mementos. They afford us information as to generalities
only, yet add link after link to a chain connecting those long past
centuries with the present time.
The Mosque of Amer, some twelve centuries in age, though little more
than a ruin, is still of considerable interest to the traveler. One
enters the walls of an oblong court, the east end being formed of a
gallery with columns inclosing the sanctuary. The north and south sides
are inclosed by piazzas with many noble columns. There are two hundred
and fifty of these, formed of single stones of granite and porphyry,
which are known to have come from Memphis and Heliopolis. The whole
deserted temple constitutes the most important monument of Arabian
architecture in Cairo. Seen as it was in the dull gray of early morning,
before the sun had fairly lighted the well-preserved minarets, it
presented a solemn picture of faded glory. It is quite as much in their
suggestiveness as in what they exhibit to the eye, that these decaying
monuments interest and instruct us. The mosque was erected by the
general whose name it bears, and was one of the few that escaped, five
centuries later, the fire by which the Saracens burned Cairo to prevent
its falling into the hands of the invading Christians.
Let us not forget to mention a brief visit to those strange fanatics,
the whirling dervishes, in witnessing whose singular movements one is at
a loss whether to sigh or to laugh. To the young the performance
suggests that of the circus, and until wearied of the monotony of it, is
perhaps as amusing; but to this more thoughtful observer it is
melancholy to see men so debase themselves. The ring in which these
people whirl about was full of deluded men, on the day of our visit,
self-proclaimed disciples. About twenty of them commenced at a signal to
turn rapidly about on their heels and toes, without a moment's pause,
for a period of some thirty or forty minutes, to the monotonous notes of
a fife and a sort of Chinese tom-tom, until finally their brains became
addled, and they fell to the ground in a species of trance, their active
devotion being supposed to have thus successfully terminated. The
howling dervishes, seen in another temple, form a different branch of a
similar style of worship or fanaticism; if possible, still more
senseless than that already described. The bodily motion of the howlers
is different, and is accompanied by a hoarse, disagreeable howling, like
that of a pack of half-starved wolves, except that it is done to a
certain musical accompaniment, enabling the participants to keep time,
both as to the motion of the body and the hideous noise which they make.
The motion is that of throwing the head and upper portion of the body
forward, and bringing it back with a sudden jerk, which would, under
ordinary circumstances, break a man's neck, but these creatures are used
to it. The dervishes wear their hair long, which adds to their crazy
appearance, by covering their faces with it during the jerking process,
the hair flying back and forth with each movement. What the ecstatic
point is in this ridiculous performance was not apparent, and they did
not tumble down overcome by unconsciousness. It is supposed that all
travelers visit them, but we came away more punished than entertained or
interested in the senseless exhibition.
A week was all too brief a period to pass in the Queen City of the East,
but at its close we started by rail for Ismailia, the little town which
is located exactly midway on the great canal between the two seas, at
the Bitter Lakes, through which the canal runs. It is a pretty and
attractive place of four or five thousand inhabitants, and is a creation
of the last sixteen years. Here we observed gardens filled with flowers
and fruit trees; vegetation being in its most verdant dress, promoted by
irrigation from the neighboring fresh-water canal. The place has broad
macadamized streets, and a capacious central square ornamented with
large and thrifty trees. It was here that the representatives of all
nations met on the occasion of the inauguration ceremony on the
completion of De Lesseps' grand canal. We took a small mail steamer at
Ismailia through the western half of the canal to Port Said, which is
the Mediterranean terminus of the great artificial river. It was a night
trip, but had it been by daylight would have afforded us no views. We
passed onward between two lofty hills of sand, the sky only visible
overhead, and no vegetation whatever in sight; no birds, no animals,
nothing to vary the monotony, but an occasional dredging machine, when
we stopped at what are called watering-stations. The reader needs hardly
to be told that this successful enterprise of cutting a canal across the
Isthmus of Suez has proved a vast and increasing advantage to the
commerce of the world. Large as it is, and under the best of management,
it has already proved insufficient for the business which it has
created, rendering a second parallel water-way imperatively necessary,
plans for which are now under consideration. At present, so large is the
demand upon its facilities that "blocks" and serious delays are of daily
occurrence. That there will be ample and remunerative business for two
canals is easily demonstrable by the statistics of the original company,
which show a most remarkable annual increase. It is a singular fact
worthy of mention, that, with all our modern improvements and
progressive ideas, the Egyptians were centuries before us in this plan
of shortening the path of commerce between the East and the West, or, in
other words, of connecting the Red Sea with that of the Mediterranean
across the Isthmus and through the Gulf of Suez.
Government engineers determined the difference of level between the two
seas by careful processes, and the investigation showed that there was
hardly a perceptible variation between the Mediterranean and the arm of
the Indian Ocean formed by the Red Sea. The same fact has been
scientifically settled regarding the Isthmus of Panama; while
measurements along the Pyrenees have established the same level between
the waters of the Mediterranean and the Bay of Biscay. The traveler in
navigating these several waters cannot but realize an interest in such
important physical facts.
The only business of Port Said is that connected directly or indirectly
with the transshipment of vessels to and from the Red Sea by way of
Suez. The town contains nothing of interest, and is a mere sandy plain.
The languages spoken are French and Arabic. There are, counting the
floating population, some eight thousand people here, not more, composed
of every possible nationality; while the social status is at as low an
ebb as it can possibly be. The region is perfectly barren,--like Egypt
nearly everywhere away from the valley of the Nile, which enriches an
extent of ten or twelve miles on either side of its course by the annual
overflow, to an amount hardly to be realized without witnessing its
effect. The question often suggested itself as to how camels, donkeys,
and goats could pick up sufficient nourishment, outside of this fertile
belt, to sustain life. Through that part of the desert which we passed
in coming from Suez one looked in vain for any continuous sign of
vegetation. A peculiarity of the land is the entire absence of woods and
forests; hence also the absence of wild beasts, only hyenas, jackals,
and wolves being found. Here and there, at long intervals, an oasis was
observed like a smile breaking over the arid face of nature upon which a
settled gloom rested nearly all the while. Once or twice there was seen
a cluster of solitary palms by a rude stone wall, hedged in by a little
patch of green earth, about which a few camels and goats were quenching
their thirst or cropping the scanty herbage. Some Arabs, in picturesque
costumes, lingered hard by. The tents, pitched in the background, were
of the same low, flat-topped, coarse camel's hair construction as these
desert tribes have used for thousands of years. Such groups formed true
Egyptian pictures, which are so often seen delineated on canvas.
Egypt has only her ruins, her antiquity, her Biblical associations to
give her interest with the world at large. Japan is infinitely to be
preferred in any light of contemplation; China, even, rivals her in all
natural advantages; and India is much more inviting. In looking at Egypt
we must forget her present and recall her past. The real Egypt is not
the vast territory which we shall find laid down by the geographers,
reaching to the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, and embracing equatorial
regions; it is and was, even in the days of the Pharaohs and Ptolomies,
the valley of the Nile, from the First Cataract to the Mediterranean
Sea, hemmed in by the Libyan and Arabian deserts. From hence came to
the rest of the world so much of art, science, and philosophy; and here
were built those time-defying monuments which to-day challenge the
wonder of the world.
The native Egyptian, the fellah, he who tills the soil, who cultivates
by irrigation and gathers the rich crops of the valley, is of a fine and
industrious race, well-built, broad-chested, and always of lithe frame,
altogether a fine looking and vigorous figure. He has a manly, oval
face, a broad brow, and a bronzed complexion, with brilliant eyes, fine
teeth, and naturally luxuriant beard. He is the same figure his
ancestors were six thousand years ago, as represented on the tombs and
temples of Thebes, and on the slabs of Gizeh in the Museum at Cairo. He
still performs his work in the nineteenth century just as he did before
the days of Moses, scattering the seed and working the shadoof. He is
little seen in the cities; his place is in the field; there he lives and
thrives. Though his native land has found such various masters in Greek
and Roman, Arab and Turk, he has never lost his individuality. He has
ever been, and is to-day, the same historic Egyptian. If he were a horse
in place of a man, we should say of him that he was of a pure,
uncontaminated breed. The women when young are very handsome, beauty
being the first present Nature gives them and the first she takes away.
They are exquisite in form, and with a most graceful gait, common to
nearly all Eastern women, who, from childhood, carry jars of water upon
their heads, thus inducing the perfection of carriage. It made us feel
almost angry to see them tattooed, their nostrils and ears pierced with
rings, and awkwardly bedecked with cheap jewelry, like their cruder
sisters of the Malay Archipelago. These women are frequently mothers at
the age of fourteen, and work as industriously in the field as at the
domestic hearth. The words "domestic hearth" are used in a conventional
manner, as their houses generally consist of one room, devoid of
windows, and a door so low as to render it necessary to stoop in order
to enter. This door is the only piece of wood in the structure, which is
composed of sun-dried clay. These dens, so utterly unfit for human
beings, are dark and dirty, but the people live and sleep much in the
open air. Such abodes are the natural outgrowth of degradation and
ignorance.
We waited four days at Port Said for the arrival of the P. and O.
steamship Rome, as she was detained by one of the numerous "blocks" in
the canal, but finally embarked on her for Malta and Gibraltar. The Rome
is a five thousand-ton ship, and the favorite of this company's
extensive fleet. Four days' sail, covering about a thousand miles, over
the erratic waters of the Mediterranean, now calm and now enraged,
brought us in sight of Malta. The city of Valetta lies immediately on
the shore; and when we dropped anchor in the snug little harbor, we were
surrounded by lofty forts, frowning batteries, and high stone buildings
of various sorts. There are two harbors, in fact, known as Quarantine
Harbor and Great Harbor. The Rome lay in the former. The island is about
twenty miles long and half as wide, and had a place in historical record
nearly three thousand years ago. We were not prepared, upon landing, to
find so large, and fine a city, numbering, as Valetta does, at least a
hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. The houses are all large stone
structures, many of which are architecturally noticeable; fronting
thoroughfares of good width, well-paved, and in fine order, an aspect of
cleanliness and freshness pervading everything.
Few countries have known so many changes among their rulers as has this
Mediterranean island. Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans,
Goths, and Arabs succeeded each other before our era, followed by
German, French, Spanish, and English rulers. During the sovereignty of
the Grand Masters it suffered the curse of the Inquisition, until the
Knights were deposed by the French, and that hateful and bloody agent of
the Romish Church was expelled. Not more heterogeneous are the
nationalities under which the island has been held than is the character
of its dialects; indeed, we have never seen written Maltese, which, as
spoken by the populace, is a mixture of Arabic and Eastern dialects.
Italian, French, and English are equally in use, but the latter, being
now the official tongue, takes precedence among the educated classes.
The garrison is formed of some three or four thousand British troops.
Many of the streets run up the steep hill-side on which the town stands,
and are flanked by broad stone steps for foot passengers, the roadway
being quite inaccessible for vehicles. The principal thoroughfare is the
Strada Reale, nearly a mile long, flanked by fine and attractive stores,
shops displaying choice fancy goods, jewelry, silks, and laces; also by
dwelling-houses and hotels; in short, forming a busy and handsome
boulevard. All the dwelling-houses over the stores are ornamented by
pleasant iron balconies, where the residents can sit and enjoy the cool
evening breezes after the hot days that linger about Malta nearly all
the year round. It was observed that the town was lighted by a complete
gas system. There is a large and imposing stone opera house, of fine
architectural aspect, ornamented with Corinthian columns, a wide
portico, and broad steps leading up to the same. A visit to the Church
of St. John was very interesting. It was built a little over three
hundred years since by the Knights, who lavished large sums of money
upon its erection and elaborate ornamentation. Statuary and paintings of
rare merit abound within its walls, and gold and silver ornaments render
the altar a work of great aggregate value. The entire roof of the
church, which is divided into zones, is admirably painted by figures of
such proportions as to look of life size from the floor, representing
prominent Scriptural scenes. The excellence, finish, and naturalness of
the figures challenged special attention; it was difficult not to
believe them to be in bas-relief. On inquiring as to their authorship,
we were told that they were the work of Mattia Preli, an enthusiastic
artist, who spent his life in this adornment, refusing all remuneration
for his labor, content to live frugally that he might thus exemplify his
art and his devotion. He certainly excelled any artist with whom we are
acquainted in causing figures painted on a flat surface to appear to the
spectator far below them to stand out with statuesque effect. In this
Church of St. John, the Knights seemed to have vied with each other in
adding to its ornaments and its treasures, so that the rich marbles,
bas-reliefs, and mosaics are almost confusing in their abundance. The
floor is closely ornamented with inlaid marble slabs, which cover the
tombs of the most distinguished Knights of the order of St. John.
The famous Dome of Mosta, a hamlet some three or four miles from
Valetta, was pointed out to us. It seems curious that this village
church should be crowned by a dome larger than that of the Pantheon or
St. Peter's, but such is the fact. It is built of the yellow stone of
which the whole island consists. We did not visit Mosta, but were told
that it was a small and miserable place. The story of the church is
this: An ancient edifice of the same character stood upon the spot, but
a new one of larger dimensions was needed to accommodate the people. It
was essential that it should be on the same site, but the old one could
not be removed until the new one was ready. To meet this difficulty the
modern structure was built over the old one, and so this remarkable dome
was erected without scaffolding within. Its proportions did not seem
particularly fine, but the size is most remarkable. It may be mentioned,
however, that Malta has some ten or more beautifully-formed domes,
looming up into the azure which hangs over the Mediterranean.
We were told that snow is not known in Malta, but that ice sometimes
forms during the coldest nights of winter, though only in thin layers,
the climate appearing to be very similar to that of southern Italy. It
was early in March, but the trees were in full bloom, and a pleasant
appreciation has led the citizens to plant and cultivate fruit trees and
flowers in abundance. Among the fragrant blossoms, quick to catch the
eye, were those of the peach, pear, orange, and apple. Indeed, Valetta
seemed to be clothed in blossoms, and in the case of the orange-trees
the ripe fruit was also to be seen in rich yellow plumpness. There must
be a prevailing refinement of taste in this island city, otherwise the
abundance of flowers offered on the Strada Reale would not find
purchasers. Several kiosks were observed erected along the main
thoroughfare, whose occupants were busy making up button-hole bouquets,
as well as arranging larger ones in picturesque combinations. There is a
place near the harbor named Casal Attand, that is, the "Village of
Roses." Casal, in Maltese, signifies village; and there is also Casal
Luca, the "Village of Poplars;" and still another, Casal Zebbug, the
"Village of Olives." A simple but very appropriate system of
nomenclature.
There are three islands in the Malta group: Malta, Gozo, and Comino, the
two latter being so small as to be of comparatively little importance,
and the circumference of the whole, judging by the scale of the maps,
must be less than a hundred miles. The trade of the place is small,
though it exports some fruits, olives, and laces, the latter a
specialty. Visitors always leave more or less money in exchange for
small mementos of the island, and thus aid in the support of the various
fancy goods stores, photograph, and jewelry shops on the Strada Reale.
The Palace of the Grand Knights of Malta, whose interesting story has so
long entered into history and romance, is the most inviting object to
the traveler,--in its associations quite as interesting as any modern
palace. One enters the lofty corridors with a throng of historical
recollections crowding upon the memory. It is a large stone building,
rather imposing in its exterior, and within is divided into roomy
vestibules, picture-galleries, banqueting hall, hall of justice, hall of
council, chapel, and several other state apartments. The council chamber
is hung in Gobelin tapestry of great original cost and beauty, imported
from France nearly three centuries ago. These remarkable hangings are
crowded with colossal figures representing scenes in India, Africa,
Europe, and America, in the latter of which were some manifest
crudities. The whole is in a singularly good state of preservation, both
as regards color and texture.
The Armory of the Knights is a large hall in the same building, wherein
is preserved the armor and weapons as worn by them in actual service,
besides specimens of guns and cannon of very peculiar mechanism. Here,
too, is an interesting series of portraits, representing the various
Grand Masters of the order of St. John. Some of the fire-arms challenge
attention, from the fact that they so closely resemble designs and
samples to be seen in Venice, showing that the principle of the modern
revolver was born and partially carried out centuries before the
ingenious American, Colonel Colt, perfected a weapon which has since
become universal. The same remark will apply to the principle of
breech-loading fire-arms, examples of which may here be seen three
hundred years old. One very singular cannon was observed, actually made
from closely woven rope, so strong and compact as to be capable of
bearing a discharge with gunpowder, and which had once seen service in
battle. The rusty old lances, broken spears, and dimmed sword-blades,
hanging on the walls, shadowed by the tattered remnants of battle-flags
bearing the bloody marks of contests in which they had taken part, were
silent but suggestive tokens of the Crusades. There are many relics
preserved in this hall besides the weapons and armor, consisting of
written documents and illumined books; indeed, the place is a veritable
museum in itself, though containing nothing except such mementos as
relate to the history of this most ancient and long-sustained order of
Knights of the Church. This hall is sure to remind the visitor of the
Tower of London.
We strolled through the elaborate divisions of Fort St. Angelo, which
has existed as a fortification for a thousand years, and from its
overhanging battlements obtained a pleasing and comprehensive view of
the island and its surroundings. Malta, like Gibraltar and Aden, is
principally important as a fortified station, and from this occupation
derives its main support. The system of armament and the garrison here
maintained are complete and effective. The lofty fort upon which we
stood is very commanding, in a military point of view, as well as
affording a grand prospect. Valetta lay far below us, with its white
buildings and thrifty, business-like aspect, its many blossoming trees
giving bits of delicate color here and there. Both harbors, with their
crowded shipping and many stately warehouses, were in view. In Great
Harbor there floated three frowning, black-hulled, iron-clad monsters,
whose open ports and protruding cannon showed their warlike purpose. At
intervals the strains of a marine band came from on board one of them.
The blue Mediterranean stretched far away to the horizon, dotted here
and there by the picturesque maritime rig of these waters, its placid
surface, now serene and quiet, radiating the afternoon light like a
liquid sapphire. A myriad of row-boats shot hither and thither over the
waters of the inner harbor, painted and emblazoned after the gaudy
Maltese fashion. One or two long lines of dark, curling smoke floating
among the distant clouds, pointed out the course of the continental
steam-packets bound east or west. The atmosphere was soft and
summer-like. The hum of the busy town, far below us, came up on the air
like the drone of insects, mingled with the soft chimes from the Church
of St. John. It must have been some fete-day in Malta, as other bells
joined in the chorus, which floated with mellow cadence on the
atmosphere. We had observed the Maltese women in church costume, making
them look like a bevy of nuns, hastening through the streets during the
day, and doubtless it was some special occasion which drew them, with
their prayer-books, to the several altars. Is it not noticeable
everywhere that it is the women who respond to these church
requirements, while the men coolly smoke their cigars, or gossip about
business on the Exchange?
From our lofty perch on the battlements of Fort St. Angelo, we saw the
signal for sailing displayed by the Rome, and knew that it was time for
us to hasten on board, and so turned our faces towards the
landing-place. For a few shillings, flowers enough to beautify our
cabins were purchased on the way, forming a floral display as pleasing
to the eye as it was grateful by its perfume. Flowers, "the air-woven
children of light," are always beautiful, but especially so at sea,--no
greater contrast being possible than that between these winsome blossoms
and the cold, fretful element which surrounds the ocean-bound ship.