Cairo--Cheop's Pyramid--Venice--The St. Gotthard Tunnel--On the
Rhine--Visit in Holland and England--Father Nugent--Arrival at New
York.
The train has stopped, and we are in Cairo, the capital of Egypt. The
beautiful, the joyous, the memorable Cairo, with its gorgeous mosques,
its half mystic, half historical monuments, its narrow streets, and a
life, a commotion and an oriental splendor strongly reminding one of the
legends "One Thousand and One Nights." In company with a friend from
America I visited the principal mosques, bazars, parks and other places
of interest, and the next day we drove out to the great Cheop's pyramid,
which is located about eight miles from the city. Here I again met with
a monument of antiquity which filled me with wonder and admiration. The
pyramid of Cheops was built before the birth of Moses,--yes, before
Jacob came down with his sons to Egypt,--and it is possible that Joseph
pointed out the same to his aged father as a proof of the greatness of
the country and its resources.
[Illustration: MOHAMMEDAN MOSQUE.]
According to Herodotus one hundred and twenty thousand men were occupied
twenty years in building it. Its base covers about eleven acres, and its
height is about four hundred and eighty feet. One can get an approximate
idea of the enormous mass of material in it, when it is calculated that
it contains stone enough to build a wall one and a-half feet thick and
ten feet high around all England,--a distance of nearly nine hundred
miles.
The renowned Sphinx is hewn out of the solid rock. It is in a reclining
position, and, although partly buried by sand, I could easily trace its
back for a distance of thirty paces.
At the foot of the pyramid I met an Arabian chief, a gesture from whom
showed me that he belonged to the mystic brotherhood of Free Masons,
which gave rise to warm handshaking, and an interesting conversation
through the aid of my interpreter. In pressing the hand of this son of
the desert sighing under despotism, and reading the feelings of his
heart through the wrinkles of his face, while he talked of the great
country in the West, whence I came, and whose free institutions,
granting equal rights to all, were to him a heavenly light pointing
forward and upward, I felt more deeply than ever before what a blessing
it is to be a citizen of a commonwealth where a man is measured, not by
his birth or his wealth, but by his own personal merits.
[Illustration: THE PYRAMIDS AND THE SPHINX.]
Returning to Cairo the remainder of the day was spent in the Boulak
museum, among the most wonderful antiquities of the world. Shortly
before there had been discovered in the Nubian hills, beneath the temple
Dayr-el-Baheree, a burial place containing the bodies of the old
Egyptian kings. These had been brought to Cairo, where a separate wing
of the museum had been opened for their keeping, and there they lay in
their coffins in a fine state of preservation, owing to the Egyptian
method of embalming. There were the very men who built the pyramids;
there was Amases I., the founder of the new empire, Thotmes III., the
great Sethi I., and his famous son Ramses II., and that Pharaoh who is
supposed to have brought up Moses; there was also his daughter Mirrhis,
who afterward became his queen, the same who found Moses as an infant
floating in the Nile.
[Illustration: RAMSES II., WHEN YOUNG.]
Their bodies--yes, even their features--were well preserved. They lie in
coffins of wood, which show skilled workmanship, the corners being
carefully dovetailed together. Even their shrouds and ornaments of
flowers and herbs show plainly that the style of dressing the dead among
the Egyptians four thousand years ago was very much the same as it is
now with us.
[Illustration: RAMSES II.]
When I stood among the ruins of Pompeii or of the tower Sarnath, the
home of Buddha, I thought nothing could be more wonderful and
awe-inspiring than those hoary monuments; but here lay before my eyes
the very man who for many years was a friend and protector of Moses,
with his wonderful, commanding features and eagle nose, his long dark
hair, which lay in thick folds under his neck. The arms, rings, jewels
and other ornaments worn by those kings and their queens, formed part of
this wonderful collection, and, by their skillful workmanship, showed
the high degree of civilization of the ancient Egyptians.
The following day I took the train for Alexandria. The railroad follows
the river Nile in its general course. The valley is densely populated,
and wretched mud houses and villages appear in every direction. The
cholera had now broken out in its most deadly form, and we saw many dead
and dying at the stations. The steamer Tanjore lay ready to sail for
Europe, and I was soon comfortably quartered in one of its spacious
cabins.
[Illustration: NILE BOAT.]
On Sunday, June 3d, a beautiful Italian day, as we were rapidly steaming
north through the Adriatic sea, we could see the coast of Greece to the
right and that of Italy to the left. We arrived at Brindisi the same
afternoon, and at Venice two days later. Surely the beauties of nature
and of art that meet the eve in this lovely city seem to be the climax
of everything beautiful on earth, and, quietly gliding forward during
many hours through numerous canals in a half-dreamy, half-waking
condition, with two silent gondoliers at the oars, I could scarcely
realize whether this was a beautiful dream, an illusion, or reality.
[Illustration: RIALTO BRIDGE IN VENICE.]
The next morning, accompanied by an interpreter, I walked through St.
Mark's square, carefully studying its many wonderful attractions, its
splendid shops, the clock, the thousands of tame doves, the belfry of
St. Mark's, the palace of the Doges, the marble pillars of the winged
lions, and finally, the most remarkable of all, the wonderful church
with its irregular, yet harmonious, unique and impressive architecture.
In the church were seen ordinary visitors roaming about under the domes,
humble worshipers counting their beads and rosaries, closely-shaved
monks and royal officers with clanging sabres, and artists busy with
their studies.
With a shudder I crossed the Bridge of Sighs, with its horrid
associations, and spent a quarter of an hour in the dark dungeons to
which it leads, and in which so many poor mortals, prisoners often
without accusers and guiltless of crime, had sighed and suffered through
the cruelties of man to man, well knowing that when they crossed that
bridge into the dungeon, they had left all earthly hope behind.
In Venice I parted with my American companion, Mr. Robins, in whose
company I had traveled all the way from Madras.
Having promised to be in Holland at an early day, I was compelled to
hurry, and left Venice on the evening of the second day. This time I
took the route through the St. Gotthard tunnel, which is nine and a half
miles long, and through which it takes nearly half an hour to pass. The
beautiful lake Como and the grand Alpine scenery have been so often
described, that I consider it superfluous to dwell on them in these
pages.
In Mayennes I left the railroad and took the steamer down the beautiful
Rhine to Cologne, passing the vine-clad hills and the mediaeval castles,
in delightful conversation with some American and Swedish tourists just
returning from the German watering places.
From Cologne I traveled by rail to Rotterdam, where I arrived June 9th,
and met my old friend, G. P. Ittman, one of the men with whom I
formerly had business connections concerning railroad matters in
Minnesota. The following day he accompanied me to the Hague to see Baron
de Constant Rebeque, one of those European noblemen who would have been
a nobleman even if he had been born in a hut. He was then chamberlain of
the king, and one of the directors of the Maxwell Land Grant Company,
the management of which had been offered to me as already stated.
The next day we all met at the office of the vice-president of the
company, the banker Mr. W. F. Ziegelar. The board of directors held a
meeting, at which I was elected business manager for America, and it was
decided that Messrs. Ziegelar and Rebeque should meet me in America a
month later, and that all of us should then proceed to New Mexico to
inspect the property and investigate the economical standing of the
company, after which I could decide whether I would accept the position
or not.
A few days later Mr. Ziegelar accompanied me to London, where one of the
directors and many of the creditors of the Maxwell Company resided. Here
I also found some friends from India, and in their company spent a
couple of days at the beautiful country residence of an English
nobleman, Sir Balfour. Among the prominent and excellent men with whom I
formed an acquaintance at that place was Maj. Horace Durrant, formerly
of the queen's hussars, who was also largely interested in the Maxwell
Company, and one of the men from different countries, nationalities and
creeds who will always live in my memory like beaming stars on life's
varied journey.
Soon afterward I renewed my acquaintance with John Ennis in Liverpool,
an Irishman, and a friend of mine for more than twenty years. He is a
man who is never happier than when he can do someone a favor, and he has
had occasion to do me many. In the evening he took me out to see a
sight, as he called it, and truly a wonderful sight it was. In a vacant
space among the back streets and alleys of Liverpool, near the shipping,
stood erected an enormous tent, containing seats for three thousand
people. My friend Ennis led me through the back entrance onto the
platform, where a few ladies and gentlemen were already seated. The tent
was lighted with gas; the people were crowding into it through half a
dozen different entrances. I have never seen such a crowd before or
since. There were thieves, pickpockets, beggars, prostitutes, drunkards
and ragamuffins of both sexes and of all ages, the very slums and filth
of that great seaport, laughing, shouting, cursing, weeping, and noisy
in every way.
Soon the great tent was filled, and could contain no more.
Then a little man appeared on the platform, whom Mr. Ennis introduced to
me as the Rev. Father Nugent, an Irish Catholic priest, very small in
stature, but with a countenance beaming with intelligence and
benevolence. He stepped to the front, and the moment he was seen by the
vast audience order and perfect silence reigned.
Here was another Keshub-Chunder-Sen, but with no new religion or
doctrine to advance, only re-echoing what the man of Nazareth had said
to the same class of people eighteen centuries ago. This priest has done
much noble work, rescued many from a life of degradation, brought up and
secured places in America for thousands of street gamins and orphans,
and his name is better known, especially among the English-speaking
Catholics, than that of any king or emperor. And who would not rather be
a Father Nugent than a king?
In the morning of the fourth of July I arrived in New York city, and
soon found President Chester Arthur, Gen. Garfield's successor,
occupying rooms near my own in the Fifth Avenue hotel. After breakfast I
was given an interview with him, and, of course, was pleased to learn
that he had followed my little work in India with interest, and
expressed much regret when I informed him of my intention to resign at
the expiration of my leave of absence.