THE FERTILIZING RIVERS OF EGYPT—LEAVE ALEXANDRIA—INCIDENTS
EN ROUTE—SHEPHEARD’S HOTEL—ANCIENT
AND MODERN CAIRO—THE DONKEY BOYS—ARAB
PATIENTS—DANCING DERVISHES—THE HOUSE WHERE
JOSEPH, MARY, AND THE INFANT SAVIOUR LIVED IN OLD
CAIRO—THE BAULAC MUSEUM—THE PETRIFIED FOREST—MOKATTAM
HILLS—TOMBS OF THE CALIPHS AND
CITADEL—CAIRO AT SUNSET.
In former times, before the introduction of railways,
the traveller to Cairo had to go by canal, hire a
boat, servant; procure a carpet, mattress, and
bedding; lay in a store of provisions, and a variety
of minor articles that would fill a page or two to
mention. Now we can go comfortably by rail in
a few hours, the distance being something like 120
miles, I think.
We pass, en route, Lake Mareotis and the
Mohmoudieh Canal, cultivated land near Alexandria,
then a good deal uncultivated and desert;
but as we approach Cairo, we see large tracts of
cultivated land, all accomplished by irrigation,
and I am told that as much as two or three crops
in the year can be obtained off these lands without
very great labour. A hot sun can always be
depended on. The agricultural labourer has not
to go through the laborious work of ploughing and
manuring as in England. All he has to do is to
scratch the ground, and put in the seed in the
fertilizing alluvium which has been brought down
from the rich lands of Meroe and portions of
Abyssinia by the Athara river and its tributaries,
the Salaam, Augrab, and the greater stream,
Tacazze or Settite. All these rivers cut through
a large area of deep soil, through which, in the
course of ages, they have excavated valleys of great
depth, and in some places of more than two miles
in width. The contents of these enormous cuttings
have been delivered upon the low lands of Egypt
at the period of the inundations. The Athara is
the greatest mud-carrier, then the Blue Nile, which
effects a junction with the White Nile at Khartoum.
The White Nile is of lacustrine origin, and conveys
no mud, but an excess of vegetable matter,
suspended in the finest particles, and exhibiting
beneath the microscope minute globules of green
matter, which have the appearance of germs. When
the two rivers meet at the Khartoum junction, the
water of the Blue Nile, which contains lime,
appears to coagulate the alluminous matter in
that of the White Nile, which is then precipitated,
and forms a deposit; after which the true Nile,
formed by a combination of the two rivers, becomes
wholesome, and remains comparatively clear, until
it meets the muddy Athara. The Sobat river is a
most important tributary, supposed to have its
sources in the southern portion of the Galla
country.
For the foregoing information on these rivers I
am indebted to an article of Sir Samuel Baker’s,
which I read with great interest in the Contemporary
Review; and I daresay many of my readers will
thank me for reproducing it.
After this slight digression, I will continue my
journey to Cairo. At the stations were numbers
of women and children with refreshments for the
traveller in this land, where the sun always shines
with a burning heat; women with goolehs of water
to sell; children naked, or nearly so, with sugar-cane,
melons, oranges, dates, fresh sugar-cane, figs,
&c. Vast numbers of these poor creatures were
afflicted with ophthalmia, their eyelids covered with
flies, which they take no notice of whatever, many
of them blind, or partially so, blind beggars; one
and all, whether they can sell anything or not, continually
uttering the cry of “Backsheesh, backsheesh,
howaga,” which comes faintly on my ears
as the train leaves the station. As we journey on
there is much to be noticed. Now we pass a camp
of Bedouins in the desert; next a large grove of
date-palms (the owner of which has to pay a tax on
every tree). Here the domestic buffalo walks round
and round a circle; he is working the sakia or
water-wheel, which winds up the water for irrigation.
This is also taxed. Scattered all over the
country are innumerable shadoofs, another mode,
and the most ancient, of obtaining water; there
the stately-looking camel strides along, looking
intensely unconcerned. Trotting past him on his
little donkey is an Arab in loose, white, flowing
robes, and turbaned head. At one time we pass
squalid, wretched-looking mud-huts; anon Nubians,
as black as coal, working in the fields. We arrived
at Cairo in the evening about seven, and were at
once driven off to the well-knewn Shepheard’s
Hotel. The cuisine is all that could be desired, and
every attention is paid to insure the comfort of
visitors. Mr. Grose, the manager, is a particularly
obliging and attentive gentleman.
Cairo (in Arabic, Kahira, which signifies
victorious) is the capital city of Egypt. It lies on
the east bank of the Nile, in a sandy plain, and
contains old Cairo, Boulac (the harbour), and new
Cairo, which are, to a considerable degree, distinct
from each other. The city itself, separate from the
gardens and plantations which surround it, is about
10 miles in circuit, has 31 gates, and 240 irregular
unpaved streets, which during the night are, or
were, closed at the end of the quarter, to prevent
disturbances. The houses are for the most part
built of brick, with flat roofs, and the interior of many
of them is very sumptuous. The chief square of
Cairo, El-Esbekiah, has a magnificent area, the
centre of which is laid out as a garden, and is
annually inundated by the overflowing of the Nile.
It is surrounded by the finest palaces. There is in
it a monument to General Kleber. The inhabitants
of the city and suburbs, in 1871 353,851, are
Arabs or Mahomedans, Coptish Christians, Mamelukes,
Greeks, Syrians, Armenians, Jews, and
natives of various countries of Europe. The castle,
or citadel, situated on a rock, containing Joseph’s
Well, 276 feet deep, is the residence of the Pasha.
There are 80 public baths, 400 mosques, two Greek,
12 Coptish, one Armenian, and one English church,
36 synagogues, and many silk, camlet, tapestry,
gunpowder, leather, linen, and cotton factories.
Among the mosques, which, though many of them
are in ruins, form the most conspicuous edifices of
the city, the most remarkable is that of Sultan
Hassan, which is built of blocks of polished marble,
obtained from the outer casing of the pyramids, or
pyramid rather, for, if my memory serves me right,
they are from the great pyramid of Cheops at Gizeh.
It has a beautifully ornamented porch, richly corniced
walls, and many tall minarets. Here is also a
Mahomedan high school, a printing office and
25,000 volumes. The largest convent of dervishes
is at Cairo. It was built in 1174. The traffic of
Cairo is very great, since it is the centre of communication
between Europe, the Mediterranean Sea,
Asia, and the North of Africa, and is upon the railway
from Alexandria to Suez. The principal
bazaars are the Ghoreah and Khan Khalel. Goods
are disposed of there by public auction, and the
different bazaars exhibit different kinds of merchandise.
Ibrahim Pasha commenced a public library
in 1830, and in 1842 a European Society, called the
Egyptian Literary Association, was established.
Mehemet Ali introduced schools for elementary
education, and the Church of England Missionary
Society has two schools.
Cairo was founded by Jauhar, general of the
Caliph Moez, in the year of the Hegira 368, or A.D.
969, on the site of the Egyptian Babylon. Moez
afterwards made it his capital, which distinction it
retained until the overthrow of the Mamelukes by
Sultan Selim in 1517. Saladin extended and fortified
it in 1176. It was repeatedly attacked by the
Crusaders, particularly by St. Louis in 1249. It
was occupied by the French from 1798 to 1801,
when it was recovered by the Turks with the assistance
of the English. A great fire occurred there
in February, 1863; advantage was taken of it to
improve the town.
Our military occupation of Egypt (or shall I say
that it is simply a “measure of police?”), and events
that are now transpiring there, are a sufficient
excuse (if one were required) for dealing shortly
with the ancient history of Cairo and the neighbourhood.
Soon after our arrival at Shepheard’s Hotel, when
we had restored ourselves to our personal comfort,
our host provided us with a good dinner, to which
we did ample justice, and as the weather (although
the end of November) was like a summer’s evening
in England, we enjoyed the usual after-dinner
cigarettes in the balcony, which is a very pleasant
lounge, even in the day time, as it is quite sheltered
from the blazing sun. I soon strolled off to bed
with the idea of obtaining a good night’s rest, so
that I should awake refreshed and fit for a pilgrimage
to the various shrines of intense interest with
which Cairo and its neighbourhood abounds. I
have visited and seen all that was interesting in
Rome, once the mistress of the world—Corinth, once
the seat of learning and the abode of a most
polished people; Ephesus; have stood on the ancient
Acropolis of Athens, the plains of Troy, celebrated
by Virgil; explored Misenum, Pateoli, Baiæ, Pompeii,
and Herculaneum, all rich in historical associations;
but compared with the remains of ancient
cities near Cairo these places were of yesterday’s
growth, and were not even thought of until ages
after the glory and high civilization of the people in
the land of the Pharaohs had passed away. When
Abraham entered the Delta from Canaan with his
countrymen, moving about in tents and waggons, the
Egyptians were living in cities enjoying all the advantages
of a settled government and established
laws; had already cultivated agriculture, parcelled
out their valley into farms, and reverenced a landmark
as a god.
While Abraham knew of no property but herds
and movables, they had invented records and wrote
their kings’ names and actions on the massive
temples which they raised. They had invented
hieroglyphics and improved them into syllabic
writing, and almost into an alphabet. The history
of Greece begins with the Trojan war, but before the
time of David and before the time of the Trojan war,
the power and glory of Thebes had already passed
away. About 1,000 years B.C. Shishak the conqueror
of Rehoboam, son of Solomon, governed all
Egypt; at his death it was torn to pieces by civil
wars. After a time the kings of Ethiopia reigned
in Thebes, and helped the Israelites to fight against
their Assyrian masters. This unsettled state of
things lasted nearly 300 years, during which, as the
Prophet Isaiah foretold, “Egyptians fought against
Egyptians, brother against brother, city against
city, and kingdom against kingdom.” At last the
city of Sais put an end to this state of things and
under the Sais kings Egypt enjoyed again a high
degree of prosperity. They were more despotic
than the kings of Thebes, and struggled with the
Babylonians for the dominion of Judæa.
Probably many of my readers are aware that M.
Ferdinand de Lesseps was not the originator of a
canal to the Red Sea, for Pharaoh Necho, one of
the Sais kings, began it from the Nile. His sailors,
circumnavigated Africa; he conquered Jerusalem,
and when the Chaldees afterwards drove back the
Egyptian army the remnant of Judah, with the Prophet
Jeremiah, retreated into Egypt to seek a refuge
with King Hophra.
523 B.C. the Persians became masters of
Egypt, and behaved with great tyranny. Cambyses
plundered the tombs and temples, broke the statues,
and scourged the priests. They ruled for 200 years;
then the Greeks, B.C. 332, the Romans, B.C. 30,
and on the division of the Roman Empire, A.D. 337,
Egypt fell to the lot of Constantinople. In A.D.
640, just 670 years after the Roman conquest,
Egypt was conquered by the followers of Mahomet,
and now, in this year of grace, A.D. 1884, we are
rather upsetting the late order of things, but
whether for good or evil time will show.
In this age of progress, it may seem strange to
say so, but Egyptian landlords had much the same
tastes 3,000 years ago as English landlords have
now. They were much addicted to field-sports.
Not only does history tell us so, but I have seen
often in their sculptures and paintings that this was
so. Even on the tomb and chapel of King Phty at
Sakkara, which is said to be over 5,000 years old, I
saw scenes of fowling, fishing, hunting, running
down the gazelle, spearing the hippopotamus, of
coursing and netting hares, of shooting wild cattle
with arrows, and catching them with the lasso.
They had fish ponds, game preserves, and game
laws, they were fond of horses and dogs, kept good
tables, gave morning and evening parties, amused
themselves with games of skill and chance, were
proud of their ancestors, built fine houses and furnished
them handsomely, and paid great attention
to horticulture and arboriculture.
This certainly reads like contemporary history;
but I will go further. To use a well-known expression,
“would you be surprised to hear” that
the tenants paid the same proportionate rent as the
British farmer of to-day? The average gross produce
of a farm here was £8 an acre, average rent
about 32s. an acre—just one-fifth—the exact rent paid
by the tenants of Potiphar, Captain of the Guard,
and of Potipherah, Priest of On, Joseph’s father-in-law,
and the same was paid to Pharaoh himself by
his tenants. At that time the whole acreage of the
country was divided into rectangular estates. One-third
belonged to the king, two-thirds in equal proportions
to the priestly and military castes; and
these were cultivated by another order of men, who,
for the use of the land, paid rent—one-fifth of the
gross produce—to the owner.
Altogether I spent nearly a fortnight in Cairo,
and feeling a great interest in the historical associations
of this ancient place and the neighbourhood,
I resolved to see and learn as much as I could of
them during my short stay. In the morning, after
early breakfast, I amused myself for a short time
by sitting in the shade of the extensive balcony in
front of Shepheard’s Hotel, which overlooks the
street, and is contiguous to it. The scene which
presented itself to my gaze was truly Oriental in
character. Now I see a few camels stalking silently,
slowly, and sedately on, variously laden—some
with baskets of large stones for building purposes,
others with long pieces of timber on each side,
others with skins of water and so on; then an
Arab lady on donkey-back, riding after the manner
of men, and covered from head to foot in unsightly
black wrappers, having just a slit in them, through
which can be seen a large pair of lustrous dark
eyes, and down the bridge of her nose are some
brass-looking ornaments, resembling as much as
anything a row of thimbles inserted in one another.
A Turkish lady’s dress and yashmack (covering
worn over the face) is much more becoming, and her
nose is not ornamented by the addition of the
thimble arrangement. The Turkish ladies wear (in
Constantinople) quite a thin white muslin yashmack
over their faces. This does not conceal very much
of the features, which, as a rule, are very beautiful.
The Egyptian ladies wear a black yashmack, which
conceals all except the eyes. Report says they are
ugly; if so, they are quite right to do so. Next I
see a carriage driven along preceded by two sais, or
runners, to clear the way, and it is surprising what
a pace they go at with a long, swinging trot. They
are picturesquely and gorgeously dressed, each bearing
a long wand, and wearing a tarboosh (Turkish
fez), the long thick blue tassel of which floats
gracefully over the shoulders, and not at all unlike
what some of the ladies in Athens wear, except that
their tassels are black. Then we see blind, or
partially blind, beggars, of whom there are vast
numbers, Coptic and Mahomedan women and
children, girls with baskets of flowers and lovely
roses, sweet-meat, fly-whisp, water, and fruit-sellers,
conjurers, snake-charmers, one and all soliciting
“backsheesh,” dusky, brown-skinned Arabs clad in
loose-flowing robes and white turbans, coal-black
Nubians, Jews, Greeks, Armenians, and Europeans
of all shades of colour, religion, and politics.
Here, in fact, in this city of Saladin and of the
“Arabian Nights Entertainments” creations (which
once seemed to be so fanciful and visionary) kindle
into life and reality as I look upon everything
around me.
The apartments of an Arab house of the well-to-do
are decorated with Arabesque lattices, instead of
glass windows. Inside are luxurious divans heaped
with soft cushions, instead of sofas and chairs; and
instead of the rattling of cabs, carts, and tramcars
we hear the wild, shrill, trilling note of the Arabian
women indicating some occasion of joy or sorrow, or
hear the equally peculiar long drawn-out note of
the muezzin from some minaret calling the faithful
to prayer.
Very near to our hotel, on the opposite side, are
always to be found a number of donkeys ready for
hire, and very good little donkeys they are. I can
see the head, legs, and tail of a donkey; the remaining
portion of him is almost concealed by a great
padded saddle, to which is attached a very inconvenient
pair of stirrups, into which you may get the
tips of your toes, and sometimes a portion of the
foot, but if the foot is not small, or is so unfortunate
as to possess a respectably-sized bunion, you
must be content if you can get the tips of your toes
only in the stirrup; this, again, slips down to the
right or left, according as you put more pressure on
one side or the other. There are no girths, but one
long strap placed around the saddle and donkey
very insecurely fixes the former. If my reader has
not been accustomed to circus-riding, I assure him
he would experience some difficulty at first in exhibiting
his powers of equitation before the Egyptian
public under these circumstances, and I have seen
more than one individual come into ignominious
contact with mother earth; fortunately he has not
far to go ere he humbles and tumbles himself in
the dust.
My first experience was this: as soon as I was
seated and had rammed the tip of my boot into the
stirrup, the donkey-boy shouts, “Ha—ha.” This
warning note the donkey knows full well, and off he
goes at a kind of running trot, which is all right.
Soon these ha-ha’s increase in frequency, and ere
long I can fancy myself a second Mezeppa. The
imp behind now accompanies his peculiar yell with
a sharp prog of a pointed stick, and the donkey
takes a very pointed cognisance of it, for now “He
urges on his wild career.” In the wide, open streets
this rapid mode of progression has an exhilarating
tendency, but in the narrow streets of the bazaars
unguarded human beings fly to the right of me, unguarded
human beings fly to the left of me, and
imprecations, not loud, but deep, in an unknown
tongue, fall on my untutored ear as my donkey indiscriminately
cannons on to the unobservant. A
few words about these donkeys, and donkey-boys so
called. Most of the latter are not boys at all, but
full-grown men, notwithstanding which they are
always called donkey-boys. These and their donkeys
are quite an institution in the East. The donkeys
own all kinds of popular English names, and of
course (if the owner may be believed) are possessed
of every good quality. Most of the donkey-boys
have picked up more or less English, and in expatiating
on the good qualities of their beasts are
accustomed to interlard their speech with the
strong language of the West, and you would be surprised
to hear how promptly they will consign a
fellow donkey-boy to an inhospitable and much-warmer
region than Cairo, and to the care of a much
blacker individual than themselves. The reader is
here called upon to exercise his or her imagination.
I had myself derived considerable amusement when
watching an intending pilgrim securing one of these
donkeys. To be forewarned is to be forearmed; I
flattered myself that by making my selection sure
before I got amongst them, my tactics would be
most successful, but as the sequel will show, I was
grossly deceived, having reckoned without my host,
or hosts I ought to say. First intending pilgrim.
He descends the steps of Shepheard’s Hotel, and
moves towards the donkeys—a fatal movement. Instantly
the air is thick with donkeys and donkey-boys.
The latter yell frantically a chorus of praises
concerning the useful quadrupeds, which are most
adroitly and with surprising dexterity brought one
after the other under his very nose, whilst the poor
victim is jostled about in the most bewildering and
unpleasant manner. I have been both a spectator
of and an actor in this performance, and I can safely
say the spectator derives by far the greatest amusement.
I resolved to pay a visit to the bazaars and some
of the mosques of note. Having, as I thought,
gained some experience by observing the misfortunes
of others, I executed a strategic movement which I
fondly imagined would turn out successful. I had,
from a distance selected my donkey; then cunningly
walked up and down the pavement smoking a
cigarette, apparently with no object in view.
Suddenly I darted on to the enemy, but alas! I
found myself in an absolute whirlwind of donkeys
and their troublesome two-legged attendants, who
yelled into my ears and bumped me about until I
was quite unable to recognise the donkey I had
selected. Beauties were here represented, such as
Mrs. Cornwallis West, and Mrs. Langtry; national
names, such as John Bull, and Yankee-doodle;
mythical names, such as Jim Crow and Billy Barlow.
One donkey rejoiced in the name of Dr. Tanner,
another in that of Madame Rachel; others, again, had
been honoured with the names of statesmen, such
as Prince Bismarck, John Bright, Sir Stafford
Northcote, Lord Randolph Churchill, Mr. Gladstone,
Mr. Parnell, Lord Beaconsfield, and others.
“Dr. Tanner, he debbil to go—he berry good
donkey indeed, hakeem,” said the owner. However,
I declined him, as he was said to be a FAST one
(excuse the joke), and as this was entirely an
Eastern question, I could not help thinking that
Lord Beaconsfield would certainly be the most
likely to carry me safely through. I therefore
selected him, and had every reason to be satisfied with
him and his secretary, Lord Rowton alias Ibrahim,
the donkey-boy, whom I employed on several subsequent
occasions. He proved a very good conductor,
for he took me through the various bazaars, Tunis,
Algiers, Turkish, Persian, and Arab, &c., pointing
out all places of note and interest en route. Ibrahim
soon got to know that I was a doctor, and so indeed
did all the attendant Arabs about the hotel. He,
like hundreds of his countrymen, suffered from
ophthalmia, and when I was out with him he said—
“Hakeem, what I do with my eyes? They very
bad sometimes.”
“Oh!” said I, “you bring me a bottle to-morrow
morning, and I will give you something for them,”
little thinking of the consequences. The lotion did
his eyes a great deal of good, and two days afterwards
a great many of his friends called, to all of
whom I gave lotion. During my stay here, and
some months afterwards on returning from the
Soudan, I was, every morning, employed after
breakfast at my medicine chest preparing eye lotions
for my Arab friends, invocations for the blessings
of Allah being my recompense. The poor fellows
appeared to be grateful, and I dare say it was
genuine, not like a canting old Irish vagrant woman,
who, if you give a hunk of bread and cheese to, will
exclaim—
“Thank yer honour kindly!” and as long as she
is in hearing keep muttering, “Och! sure now,
there’s a kind jintleman for ye, me darlint. Sure
now he is intirely an illigant jintleman; only for
him I would not have a bite this morning, that’s
sure for ye. May Heaven guide him and the blessed
Virgin protect him!” Then out of hearing it is,
“Och! the dirty spalpeen! What will I do wid
this? May the curse of Cromwell light on ye for a
murthering Sassenach. What will I do honey? and
I not had a sup of gin this blessed day to keep the
cowld out of me poor thrimbling ould body!”
But I am digressing. One day I took a donkey
ride to old Cairo, and with others from the hotel
visited the dancing dervishes, and the house said
to have been inhabited by our Saviour. Old Cairo
is about two miles distant from Grand Cairo. It
was at old Cairo that the child Jesus, with Joseph
and Mary, lived for a time, having fled from the
bloody, persecuting Herod. The place said to have
been His exile home is now a small Greek church. The
steps to the room are very much worn, but great
care is taken of every part of it; silver lamps, hung
from the ceiling, are burning night and day, and no
one is allowed to enter without the presence of a
Greek priest. It certainly is not difficult to believe
that, considering the mild Syrian atmosphere, and
the absence of rain, the building may be much more
than 1,800 years old.
The dancing dervishes next engaged our attention.
When in Constantinople I visited the dancing
dervishes at Pera and the howling dervishes on the
other side of the Bosphorus at Scutari. The dancing
dervishes wear a dress of greyish material, which
reaches a little below the knee, and is confined by a
girdle round the waist. When they spin round like
Teetotums this looks like an open umbrella. The
head is covered by a curious-looking, tall, conical
felt hat without any brim.
The word itself, Dervish, or Dervise, is of Persian
origin, and signifies poor. It denotes the same
amongst Mahomedans as monk with Christians.
The observance of strict forms, fasting and acts of
piety, give them a character of sanctity amongst
the people. They live partly together in monasteries
partly alone, and from their number the Imams
(priests) are generally chosen. Throughout Turkey
they are freely received, even at the tables of
persons of the highest rank. Among the Hindus
they are called fakirs. There are throughout Asia
multitudes of these devotees, monastic and ascetic,
not only among the Mahomedans, but also among
the followers of Brahma. There are no less than
thirty-two religious orders now existing in the
Turkish Empire, many of whom are scarcely known
beyond its limits; but others, such as the Nakshbendies
and Mevlevies, are common in Persia and
India. All these communities are properly
stationary, though some of them send out a portion
of their members to collect alms. The
regularly itinerant dervishes in Turkey are all
foreigners or outcasts, who, though expelled from
their orders for misconduct, find their profession
too agreeable and profitable to be abandoned, and
therefore set up for themselves, and, under colour
of sanctity, fleece honest people. All these orders,
except the Nakshbendies are considered as living in
seclusion from the world; but that order is composed
entirely of persons who, without quitting the
world, bind themselves to a strict observance of
certain forms of devotion, and meet once a week to
perform them together. Each order has its peculiar
statutes, exercises, and habits. Most of them
impose a novitiate, the length of which depends
upon the spiritual state of the candidate, who is
sometimes kept for a whole year under this kind of
discipline. In the order of the Mevlevies, the novice
perfects his spiritual knowledge in the kitchen of
the convent. The numerous orders of dervishes
are all divided into two great classes, the dancing
and the howling dervishes. The former are the
Mevlevies, and are held in much higher estimation
than the other class, and are the wealthiest of all
the religious bodies of the Turkish Empire. Their
principal monastery is at Konieh, but they have
another at Pera, a suburb of Constantinople, where
they may be seen engaged in their exercises every
Wednesday and Thursday. These are performed in
a round chamber, in the centre of which sits their
chief or sheik, the hem of whose garment each
dervish reverently kisses on entering the chamber,
after which they go and range themselves round
the chamber with their legs tucked under them.
When all the dervishes have entered and saluted
the sheik, they all rise together and go in procession
three times round the room, the sheik at their
head. Each time they do obeisance to the empty
seat of the sheik on coming to a certain part of the
room. The procession ended, the sheik again takes
his place in the centre, and all the others begin
dancing round him, turning on themselves at the
same time that they move round the room. The
arms are extended, the palm of the right turned
upward and the palm of the left downward, to
indicate that what they receive from heaven with
the right they give away to the poor with the left,
while sounds of music are heard from a neighbouring
gallery. The movement at first is slow, but as
the dervishes become excited they become more
animated, and revolve so quickly that they look like
tops spinning round; at last they sink exhausted on
the floor. After a while they renew their exertions,
and repeat it several times. The whole is concluded
by a sermon.
The howling dervishes do not confine themselves
in their exercises to the dancing just described.
They accompany them with loud vociferations of
the name of Allah, and violent contortions of the
body such as are seen in persons seized with
epileptic fits. And even these extravagances are
not so bad as those which were formerly practised,
when the dervishes, after working themselves into
a frenzy, used to cut and torture themselves in
various ways with apparent delight. The sheiks of
all orders have the credit of possessing miraculous
powers. The interpretation of dreams, the cure of
diseases, and the removal of barrenness, are the
gifts for which the dervishes are most in repute.
Had I to live in such a hot climate as Cairo, I should
feel thankful that our religion does not necessitate
such violent bodily exertion as that which these
dervishes indulge in. The road to old Cairo was
very, very dusty, and the weather excessively hot, as it
always is in the day time. We left the dancing
dervishes after remaining about half-an-hour, and
rode back to our hotel in the afternoon too late for
any further explorations that day. On the following
day I spent some hours in a very enjoyable and
also instructive manner, namely in inspecting the
priceless articles in the Baulac Museum. This
museum, I suppose, contains some of the most
ancient things in this world, and I regret very much
that I could not devote a week to inspecting the
contents of it instead of a few hours. I should
have seen the treasures contained here, and known
very little concerning them (as there was no
catalogue), had I not been so fortunate as to get
into conversation with Brusch Bey, the curator, a
most intelligent and obliging gentleman, whose
heart is enthusiastically in his work. He was kind
enough to spend about two or three hours with me
and enlighten me on very many things which would
have been a sealed book to me but for him. There
lay before us one grand discovery of 32 kings and
queens, who had ruled Egypt in the dim distant
ages long ago. The gilding on the inner coffins was
as perfect and untarnished as it was the week they
were executed, although thousands of years have
rolled by since the handy craftsman was engaged on
them. They were covered with information that
none but an Egyptologist could decipher. In this
museum was pointed out to me a picture said to be
the most ancient in the world, it was a painted
picture of Egyptian geese, as well done, I should
imagine, as any ordinary painter of the present day
could do it. There were bronzes and polished marble
statuary as perfect in appearance as when they left
the workmen’s hands, and, as far as I could judge, as
well finished as they would be by workmen of the
present day, although 2,000 or 3,000 years old. An
ingenious and strong little cabinet engaged my
attention some time; the doors of hard wood were
well carved and the joints as exquisitely dove-tailed
in as any man of the present day could make them.
In a glass case I saw basket-work, a chair, rope,
twine, seals, rings, javelins, slings, food and seeds as
they were found in an ancient tomb, the mason’s
mallet cut out of a solid piece of wood, precisely
the same shape and size as those in use here at the
present time, jewellery well-finished and solid-looking,
and many other things too numerous to mention.
On carefully examining this valuable and
interesting collection, some of which were 3,000,
4,000, or 5,000 years old, I could not help thinking
that they served well to illustrate the highly civilized
condition of the people at so remote a period.
To give details of all the interesting things in
this museum would occupy too much time to the
exclusion of other matter, but there are two things
that call for notice on account of their very great
antiquity. One is a wooden statue, which has been
carved out of a solid block of very hard wood, and
is that of a man about 5ft. 7in. in height. As one
stands in front of that wooden statue gazing for a
short time, he almost appears to be endowed with
a soul and the power of speech, so excellent is the
execution of the figure, and so expressive the face;
no one can doubt for a moment that he was the
creation of a high civilization. It was found in a
tomb at Sakhara and belongs to one of the early
dynasties of the old primæval monarchy, and is
absolutely untarnished by the thousands of years it
has been reposing in that tomb; there is actually no
sign of decay. The antiquity of that statue
astonishes me, and I dare say it will my readers.
Brusch Bey told me that it was supposed to be
5,400 years old, and that probably it was older than
that. The other statue, that of Chephren, the
builder of the second Pyramid, with his name inscribed
upon it, is in Diorite, one of the hardest kind
of stones, carefully executed and beautifully polished.
These Egyptians were evidently people of considerable
forethought, and when they wanted their names
and deeds to live long after them engraved on
tablets of stone, they selected the most durable they
could, and it is more than probable that had they
contemplated building such houses of Parliament as
we have built in London, they would have selected
a hard, not a soft stone, that continually requires
patching up. Well, the features of Chephren’s
statue are uninjured, and Brusch Bey and I gazed
on them just as they were seen by Chephren and
his court 5,000 years ago. It was discovered by
Mariette Bey, at the bottom of a well, which
supplied the water used for sacred purposes in the
sepulchral temple attached to Chephren’s Pyramid.
It was no doubt originally erected in the temple,
and was probably thrown into the well by the
barbarous Hyksos or iconoclastic Persians.
During the late military operations, or “police
measures,” grave apprehensions for the safety of
the Baulac Museum arose, but fortunately it escaped
the violence of the mob. The greater part of one
day was occupied by a visit with my familiar
Ibrahim to the mosques of note, the citadel, tombs
of the Caliphs and Mamelukes. Another day I got
a companion from the hotel to accompany me to the
petrified forest, some miles out in the desert. It
covers an area of about 15 miles. All this space is
pretty thickly strewed over with what appears to be
trunks and branches of trees. I took hold of what
appeared exactly like the wooden branch of a tree,
and so it had once been, but for ages it had lain
here, a solid piece of very hard stone. The place is
an absolutely desolate one in the desert, with not a
sign of vegetation in sight. Whether these had
been washed here during the flood or had once
grown in the neighbourhood or not, or how they
came there, I never could ascertain, although I have
sought for information on the subject in all directions.
No one seems to be able to tell me anything
about the origin of this petrified forest, and I have
not hitherto found a book containing any allusion
to it. We returned to Cairo by the Mokhottam
hills behind the citadel somewhat late in the afternoon,
consequently had to urge on our donkeys so
that we should see Cairo by sunset. We were here
just in time to do so, as there is scarcely any twilight
in the East; the transition from day to night does
not occupy very many minutes. The picturesque
panorama that opened out to our view well repaid
us for our trouble. There before and beneath us
lay Cairo with its innumerable mosques and minarets,
the Nile with the peculiar Nile boats called
dahabeahs floating peacefully on its surface. Here
and there the stately camel strides silently on, veiled
women and turbaned Arabs in loose flowing robes,
groves of palm trees, while nearer to us we see the
half-ruined tombs of the Caliphs and Mamelukes,
the citadel and the beautiful mosque of Mehemet
Ali full of carved columns of alabaster. To the late
burning heat which we encountered in the desert
succeeds a soft, balmy, dry air, and the beautiful and
varied hues of the setting sun is reflected from the
glittering mosques and minarets, rocks and sands,
presenting a picture which will not soon fade from
my memory, and which requires the poetry, eloquence,
and pen of a Byron to adequately describe.
In striking contrast to the beautiful scene we had
just enjoyed was the wretched-looking houses of the
Arabs, the squalor, dirt and miserable pathways on
the hill-side which we encountered immediately
afterwards as we pursued our homeward journey.
