THE CAFE--ARAB MUSIC--ARTFUL EXPEDIENT--THE GHAWAZEE AND KOWAL--CHANGE
OF COSTUME--THE LADY FROM BEYROUT--ODD PROCESSION--SHOWERS OF ROSE
WATER--ARRIVAL OF THE “TAGUS”--THE OVERLAND MAIL--DEPARTURE OF THE
INDIA-BOUND PASSENGERS--THE MAHMOUDIEH--ATFEH.
Alexandria offers to the English stranger very little in the shape of
amusement; at six, when the offices and shops are closed, the square
becomes the public promenade, serving in fact as the “_change_,” where
business-matters and the news of the day are discussed. A gloomy
stillness, however, seems to reign everywhere, for the rumble of wheels
is seldom heard save when the Pasha returns from his evening drive, or
when the carriages belonging to the rival hotels are brought out of
the dusty _remises_, on the arrival of some steamer. There is but one
solitary _Cafè_ in the town, and that by no means an excellent one. It
possesses nevertheless a sort of casino or subscription-room, where
for twelve dollars a year, one may see the principal papers of France
and Italy, and get a chance rubber of billiards with some passing
traveller. This Cafè occupies one corner of the English Okella, and
at the opposite angle is a theatre, where occasionally some Italian
corps, paid for by subscription, are wont to enliven the Alexandrian
beau-monde, by the production of some badly sustained opera, or a few
of Goldoni’s comedies; the orchestra, on such occasions, being composed
of amateurs, with, maybe, a first fiddle of renown from La Scala or the
Fenice. In respect of music, the Arabs are still in the dark ages, and
the performance of Mehemet Ali’s native band, is a grievous infliction
upon the listener, as Furner and myself can testify. A kind old Arab,
who had invited us one day to dinner, had prepared an agreeable
surprise for us, by borrowing the five royal musicians from the “Nile”
steam-frigate, and for three mortal hours or more, we were compelled
to listen to and admire the same _air_ (!) from a combination of three
drums, two whistles, and a nondescript sort of guitar. It is probable
that the whole night would have been devoted to harmony, had not Furner
hit upon the fortunate expedient of gradually inebriating the whole
five with repeated doses of strong brandy and water, which proved a
novel and most enticing beverage. The drums are easily described,
being neither more nor less than diminutive grape jars with the bottom
knocked out, and a bladder strained over the mouth; these vary in
size and consequently in tone, and are played on by the fingers’ ends.
[Illustration: THE PASHA’S NATIVE BAND.]
The _Ghawazée_ or dancing-girls of Egypt, are now not often to be met
with, having been banished to a distant part of the country by order
of the Pasha. Their manœuvres are sometimes imitated, however, by
a set of men or boys, called “_Kowāl_,” who, disguised in suitable
apparel, are to be hired for the evening for a mere trifle, and these
fellows exhibited one night at our house before a few English. Their
manner of dancing is not easily to be described, inasmuch, as to a
stranger, their motions are sometimes wholly unintelligible. There is
also much that is unequivocally disgusting, and I never met with any
who wished to witness the exhibition a second time. The scene in the
present instance, lasted about an hour and a-half, with a perpetual
accompaniment of drums and whistles, and I doubt whether the men
themselves were much more weary than we by the time it was over,
though they lay without movement on the floor in a state of profuse
perspiration.
By the time I had been a fortnight in Egypt, I found the close fitting
Frank clothes I had brought with me, almost insupportable, and I
consequently threw them aside in favour of a linen jacket and wide
trousers, _à la Turke_. Although the change was very agreeable in
point of comfort, it was a long time before I learned to dress myself
properly, for the loose trouser is a most unmanageable garment, and the
silk scarf which encircles the waist is of so preposterous a length,
that it is useless to attempt winding yourself into it, without the aid
of a servant. My early endeavours to arrive at a complete toilet, were
much assisted by a young lady from Beyrout, who being on her way from
Cairo to Malta, was billeted upon us for a few days at the request of
Mr. Raven. We found her, at first, extremely shy, and as she could by
no means be persuaded to raise her veil, it was fully two days before
we saw the light of any part of her countenance, except her eyes, which
glowed out from above her long black nose-case, like two coals. By
degrees this timidity wore off, and she was induced to take her tea
and pipe in our company. She spoke Arabic and Italian, with a very few
words of English, so that it was with considerable difficulty that we
contrived to hold any conversation with her. We gathered from her,
bit by bit, that she is running away from a French husband, who had
once thrown her out of a window, besides attempting her life in other
ways. We were consequently obliged to keep her as much out of sight as
possible, as she was in great trepidation lest he should suddenly make
his appearance and finish her.
I had at this time an opportunity of witnessing a curious Arab
procession, occurring on the day of some yearly festival; though in
honour of whom or what, I could by no means ascertain. Our dragoman,
Hassan, secured me a good position in one of the narrow streets out
of the square, from whence I was able to view it to advantage. The
procession was led by a dozen men bareheaded, who, formed into a
circle, were making a rapid succession of low bows towards its centre,
chanting at the same time a mournful air; next came a band of native
musicians, followed by a numerous body of men bearing long flags,
similar to those used in the pilgrimage to Mecca; those who came next
upon the scene were a score or more of half-naked fellows, all foaming
and perspiring with excessive exertion, whose sole object seemed to be
the endeavour to pull each other to the ground, by means of the little
top-knot of hair on the crown of the head; a miscellaneous and unruly
crowd of men and boys brought up the rear, whose incessant thumping
of little copper drums, mixing with the shouting and doleful chant
of those who had preceded them, produced as discordant a variety of
noises as I ever remember to have heard. The women took no part in
the procession, saving as lookers on, testifying their appreciation
and enjoyment of the extraordinary display, by a loud gobbling noise
like a chorus of frightened turkey cocks--a noise I believe which none
but an Arab woman _can_ produce;--as the exhibitors moved along, they
as well as the bystanders were plentifully besprinkled with water of
roses and lavender, which we were given to understand was a part of
the performance. So plentiful indeed did Furner and I find this novel
species of baptism, that, being unprovided with umbrellas, we were glad
to beat a precipitate retreat.
On the evening of July the 18th, the mail steamer “Tagus,” arrived
from Southampton, and from this day, I may date the commencement of
my official duties. We were enjoying our after-dinner pipe in the
verandah, when Hassan announced her near approach, so, making all speed
to the shore, Furner and I rowed off to meet her. On gaining the deck,
we found about two dozen passengers for the Overland, with a prodigious
quantity of baggage piled up in one large heap, from which each was
endeavouring to release his own particular property. The mail consisted
of a number of square tin-boxes, which, when hauled on deck, it was my
duty to see shifted into a barge alongside, destined to convey them
to the mouth of the Mahmoudieh Canal, observing at the same time, that
each individual case was duly ticked off upon the bill of lading. It is
said there is a charm in every description of novelty, but I have yet
to learn where to find that belonging to the landing of a large Indian
mail on a dark and gusty night by the dim light of a ship’s lanthorn.
The oaths of the sailors as they worked the tackle, mingling with the
blowing off of the steam, the shouts of the Arabs, and the bumping
together of boats alongside, formed a confusion of noises perfectly
bewildering, whilst it was with some difficulty that I could maintain
a firm hold at the top of the ladder, from whence I was obliged to
watch the packages in their descent, until a welcome cry of “All out,”
announced a temporary reprieve. Whilst the mail barge was making its
slow way round to the Mahmoudieh, I had time to reach the shore, and
join the passengers at Rey’s Hotel, as they were starting for Moharrem
Bey, which is the point of departure of the passage-boats. The pushing
and scrambling for donkeys, on such occasions, is sometimes highly
amusing, and it is long ere the cavalcade is in motion. When there is
no moon, the scene is lighted up by crackling pots of burning charcoal,
raised aloft on poles, shedding a lurid light. The road to the Canal
involves the passing of two or three gates, strongly fortified, having
lofty tunnel-like arches, and paved with round stones. The pattering of
hoofs as the motley train rushes through, awakens the lazy sentinel,
who presents arms mechanically to those of the flaring pots, and, as
the sound again dies away in the deep sandy road, once more relapses
into slumber.
Half a mile’s ride brought us to the avenue of trees upon the banks of
the Canal, where the covered passenger-boats were waiting to receive
us, that containing the mails and luggage, having already gone on
a-head. The choice of seats, for berths there were none, was of course
given to the ladies, the rest accommodating themselves where best
they might. Four strong horses, mounted by as many Arab riders, were
attached to the one long iron boat, which contained us all, and the
word having been given to cast loose, we bid a hasty adieu to our
friends on shore, and by a little after midnight, found ourselves
in motion. Our crew consisted of a fat Maltese pilot, two or three
Arabs, and a cook, named Antonio, and it was gratifying to remark,
that the latter had not forgotten several well-stored _cafasses_, or
provision-baskets, with apparatus for making tea and coffee, and a
large brazier of ignited charcoal for heating his kettles.
The dew was falling like rain, soaking every thing that was exposed to
it, but this did not deter some of our party from throwing themselves
at full length upon the roof, where, snugly shrouded in their cloaks,
they ran a much better chance of getting a little rest, than when
squeezed into a sitting posture below. Having given a look round to see
that all was as it should be, I retired into my little cabin in the
bows, where, after a cold chicken and a bottle of Bass’s ale, I was
soon deep in my first packet of letters from England. Sleep however,
overcame me before I had finished, and I was dreaming most agreeably
of far-off persons and scenes, when a sudden shock and instantaneous
stoppage of the boat, upset my candle and empty beer-bottle, and caused
a dire commotion among the cups and spode-ware in Antonio’s pantry.
I ran on deck immediately, and found, as soon as I could collect my
scattered senses, that our precious Maltese captain had run us into
the bank, having quietly followed the example of those around him, by
dropping to sleep at his tiller. Fortunately for the horses, the rope
had parted with the sudden check, or they would have been pulled into
the Canal, which I afterwards found was not an uncommon occurrence.
After a little delay, we were soon making way again at an average pace
of seven or eight miles an hour, and met with no farther mishap before
day-break. We were amused in the morning by the uncouth gambols of the
buffaloes, who were taking their early bath in the shallow water at the
sides of the Canal. Some of them seemed so accustomed to the passing of
our rope, which often gives them an unpleasant rap over the horns, and
sometimes completely upsets them, that they would duck under water at
the approach of the horses, and rise again as soon as we had shot past.
At mid-day we reached Atféh, a considerable village on the Nile, at the
southern extremity of the Mahmoudieh Canal.