Part 8

The population of Cairo in 1895 was about 350,000. The Khedive lives with his wife and family at the Palace of Ismalia, near the Nile bridge. He is a strict monogamist, loyal in his married life and detests slavery as much as polygamy. All his attendants are paid wages. He is said to rise at 4:00 or 5:00 a. m., eats no breakfast, exercises two hours, and between seven and eight o'clock drives in state to Abdin Palace, which is about a half mile from Ismalia, his home. Abdin is the usual place for receptions and ceremonial visits. Here the Khedive spends the day, transacting various business, seeing ministers, reading letters and telegrams and talking with his courtiers. At 5:00 p. m. he drives again with his guard, preceded by his athletic sais about forty feet in advance, while in his victoria sits always some companion beside him. These sais attract much attention, so very graceful are they in appearance. Their white Turkish trousers, their gold embroidered bolero jacket, with bright, oriental sashes and a cap of bright color that sets off their fine features and well-shaped head. They are very fleet, but we were told that their earthly race is soon run, the exercise being too violent. We take donkeys to visit the bazaars. There is a change of temperature, about 60 deg. Fah., but the attempt made to keep our seat on our lively animals brought out the perspiration, as this was our maiden effort. The name of the present Khedive is Lewfak (1895). On a recent occasion he was asked: "What would be the effect on the harem if the slaves and eunuchs were no longer on guard?" He replied: "The women would rush into all sorts of license." He agreed that education was the one thing needful, and in accordance with his convictions has started a high school for girls, at his own expense. The Mussulman women's morals are very low; their influence on the children of the harem is most deplorable. The Ezbekiah Garden confronts us nearby the hotel. It was formerly a lake surrounded by trees and habitations. At the present, after many changes, it is of rectangular form, with corners cut off, surrounded by an iron railing. A basin with swan, and carefully sanded paths with strange trees brought from the interior of Africa is a beautiful sight. The limpid blue sky and the rays of the magnificent eastern sun makes it an attractive place to linger, particularly so at 4:00 p. m., when a military band performs its European repertoire. Beer shops, restaurants and photographic pavilions are installed in and near this garden; veiled women, men in silk gowns of various colors, mostly blues, roam about with the most perfect ease. Beautiful Egyptian tents were erected for a bazaar while we were there. No one can appreciate, without seeing their effective display, made of sailcloth, with red, yellow and blue calico in plain colors, appliqued on in strange hieroglyphic designs. Rugs were on the ground and tapestries were used as portieres, while the Turk or Egyptian sat in the doorway, apparently indifferent to the passerby. To visit Heliopolis, we took a victoria and an expert dragoman. We passed the viceroy's palace, with its lane of lemon trees and the well cultivated plain of Metarrah, covered with gardens. We stop at the virgin's tree, where Mary and the child rested in their flight to Egypt. This, with the field around it, is watered by a sakieh, which draws sweet and refreshing water from the bottom of a well. With the cooling draught, we are presented with a tiny bunch of flowers, for which we return a few piasters. A paling surrounds Mary's Sycamore, under whose shade, tradition says, she washed the infant's clothes, and that wherever a drop of water fell a Balsam tree sprang up. All that remains of Heliopolis, the city of the sun, is the obelisk of Usertesan. Heliopolis is the On of the Hebrews. It was here the Bennonz, Phoenix, the fabled bird, with its gold and crimson plumage, without a mate, came from Arabia every five hundred years to expire, and to be reborn of its own ashes on the altar of the sun.

I left my companion in the victoria, and wended my way alone to the obelisk, not far distant. It may be he preferred to contemplate on Heliopolis' past glory, as he was fresh from Yale's classic shade, and deep, no doubt, in its lore, rather than touch its hieroglyphics. To see the bees so thickly settled there was of little satisfaction, but what were we there for if not to touch, taste and handle? The climatic effects will preserve this wonderful monument for ages, while their consorts on the Thames and in New York Central Park already show signs of decay.

The ostrich farm was a more enlivening scene. One thousand of these ugly, vicious birds were kept in an enclosure, the fence surrounding them being so high we were obliged to seek an elevation from which we could look down upon them. They are most ungainly, but their strut is indicative of vanity. To probe them, as some did through an opening in the gateway, was to arouse their wrath, and the warning was soon given to desist, by the care-keepers. Many of the eggs were emptied of their contents and for sale. Throughout the land morgues are crumbling to ruins, the Arab seemingly powerless to repair them, or to build new ones. Cairo is built from the ruins of Heliopolis and Memphis.

To return to Cairo by the Kooha road is to meet at 5:00 p. m. the Khedive and suite on their return from Abdin palace. It is said the Khedive is never seen to smile; we can testify that he did not smile on us, although we rode parallel with him that day. The tramp of his attendant cavalry always attracts a crowd. We see, as we drive along, the donkeys roll with their saddles in the sand; swarms of naked soiled children, with their deafening yell, increase the clamor made by the native pipe seller and blower. These are made of bamboo, and, when properly handled, give out a noise peculiar to those people. Water-sellers, with filled goatskins on their shoulders, leather aprons to their knees, striking their copper goblets one against the other, richly caparisoned mules, bearing venerable Mohammedan priests, whose gowns are kissed as they go by--all these and more join this medley in human or animal form. Traffic is suddenly stopped by a long string of camels coming, laden with thick pieces of timber, rugged stones or enormous bales of merchandise. They walk silently in the dust with long strides, waving to and fro, exhaling an insupportable odor. Their heavy, incommodious cargoes strike right and left, breaking everything before them. Woe betide the pedestrian, who does not anticipate their coming, and prepare to skip. These caravans are only momentary disturbances, then all is righted till another passes. Through all this pandemonium we drive to the tombs of the Caliphs, the independent sovereigns of Egypt from the ninth to the twelfth century. In the face of the ruins crumbling slowly beneath the action of centuries, one feels an unutterable melancholy. Mosque of El Achraf-ynal El Ghours is near the tombs of the Caliphs, their courts are full of rubbish and plants and brambles, with its fountains for ablutions in ruins. These mosques contain tombs and stone mausoleums. We pass out into a dilapidated village of low mud houses, few shops, with fruits to sell, camels lying down, asses and tattered children and old men. We ascend not far away the staircase with disjointed steps, the mosque of Karl Bey. The interior court, open to all elements, is paved with marble mosaics. The ceiling of the mosque is carved, painted and gilded. The rose windows, cut in massive stone, is in great perfection, but all is crumbling, like everything else in the east.

The tombs of the Caliphs we overlook from the citadel, where we listen to the guide who relates the daring feats of the Mamelukes. To see the sun set from this point is one of the pleasures that Cairo affords. Here is a fortress, where Ramises II detained his Assyrian captives, when the Roman legion under Caesar held Egypt. The vile, stuffy smells that greet you on entering are appalling, and the ragged children eaten up by vermin, and afflicted by sore eyes rub against you. You enter the Coptic church of the Virgin Mary; partitions in woodwork separate three naves. Mother of pearl and ivory inlaid work decorate the interior, but it was so dark the beauties were lost to me, but we are not insensible to the vile uncleanliness, for that is paramount. We are taken to the banks of the Nile, shown the ancient Nile meter, and the exact spot where Moses was found in the bulrushes. From all this we turn with weary steps to the university, where scholars from the extreme north, south, and those who scarcely know from whence they came, are here to study the four rites taught from the Koran. They board at the Mosque and also receive a small allowance and oil for their lamps. Gathered together in circles, holding their tablets in their hands, lying or sitting on their mats covering the ground, they learn by heart verses from the Koran, which they recite aloud in a drawling voice, swinging the body, as is peculiar to the Orientals. A special fund is raised from pious fanatics for the support of the blind who become scholars, no less fanatic than their teachers.

Another day for the museums at Boulah to be taken before, and after going up the Nile. From its terrace the views are splendid. The supporting walls bathe in the Nile, where multitudes of vessels lie side by side. Across the desert come caravans from Abyssinia, with coffee and incense from Arabia; pearls, precious stones, cassimeres and silks from India.

In dahabehis from Esneh come ivories, ostrich feathers, acacia gum, nitre from Kenner, boats loaded with pottery of porous earth, in which to keep the water of the Nile in amphorae (large earthen jugs) in all sizes. Edfou sends its pipes, vases of red clay and black. Barges filled with indigo, cotton and barley, dahabehis of carpets and woolen stuffs with flagons of rose water. From the North come rice, maize and Syrian tobacco; draperies from Aleppo, Smyrna and Damascus; dried grapes from the mountains of Karamania; soap from the isles of the Archipelagos, and in the midst of all this enterprise, donkey boys yell, and camels make their unearthly cry, while I, who am mounted on a donkey, scarcely look to the right or left, lest I go over "Abraham Lincoln's" head.

We have left the museum and are on the road leading to Cairo, the Champs Elysee of this capital city. Tuesdays and Sundays the gay world is met on this thoroughfare. We overlook the port of old Cairo to see all we have described, besides dahabehis from Nubia and Soudan with goods and passengers. The ferry passing between Bedrashen and old Cairo is full to overflowing. Men, women, Bedouin negroes, asses, camels overburdened with merchandise, cages of fowls, and fruit in kouffas; people gesticulating and grumbling in an inconceivable manner--all this confusion we pass through to reach our hotel to dream of our journey to the pyramids the following day. Our dragoman secures an open carriage that seats four persons, besides the coachman and himself on the coachmen's seat. We are told that twenty years were consumed in building the great pyramid, costing 600 talents (the Hebrew weight 94 lbs.) in Hebrew money; 100,000 men were employed on the works, and were changed every three months. They say nothing changes in the valley of the Nile; the Fellah has always bent the spine to the stick. Lives innumerable were sacrificed by the Pharaohs in building for themselves, and others, tombs that time could not change, and where thieves could not break through and steal. How all earthly plans are frustrated. Now the hidden places of the pyramids are laid bare. The museum at Boulah contains the mummied forms of the builders, and the entrances to their sepulchres are open to bats and men. I did not ascend the pyramids farther than to look into these excavations. This effort was most exhausting, even when assisted by these athletic Arabs, and the demand for backsheesh was overpowering. The sheik, under whose patronage these coolies work, stands looking on without intervention until your dragoman is forced to appeal to him to quell the disturbance, but we could see that he berated those who were delinquent in making their demands good. The sphinx near by can be reached either by camels, who stand in readiness to convey you, or you can walk. We prefer the latter rather than to have another bombardment for backsheesh, but waiving, as we did, all assistance but our dragoman, we were followed by these wretched persecutors. There is in this colossal figure a dignity--an air of mystery. It is with difficulty that the sands of the desert are kept from enveloping it, but the climatic effect is wonderful; it seems destined for time and eternity.

Friday is the day for religious service with the howling dervishes. One never cares for a repetition. Those who take active part in the ceremony are men whose regular features are set off by a tall, round, sugar-loafed hat, surrounded at its base with a turban wound very tight, clothed in long, flowing gowns, very full, open in front. A second gown underneath of mauve silk shows a blue jacket and orange-colored trousers. One carries a flute, and now and then a soft, ethereal note is heard. Around this musician are others with their instruments. In a semi-circle, with arms falling at their sides, stand at least thirty dervishes, their long gowns of different colors fastened tight around their waists with a red silk sash, red, white and green turbans, and linen or woolen caps. Their hair is of extraordinary length, dyed with henna, and falling to their knees. At a signal from their leader, all uncover their heads at the same moment, and, as they bend balancing themselves slowly at first, with each jerk pronouncing the word "Allah!" This swinging motion becomes by degrees rapid; voices burst out; one hears the piercing note of the flute, and the ring of the cymbals. The sepulchral roll of the Dara-bonkas make the flesh creep, and finally ends in a delirious exaltation.--They assume frightful contortions; their bodies bend; the hair whips the air and the cry of "Allah! Allah!" penetrates bone and marrow. After a while their ways become more regular, voices clearer, and they seem again to possess their faculties.

The great artery of trade cuts bazaar quarters into the old Frank quarters where east and west mixes. Living side by side, the occupants of these shops speak, when opening the shutters in the morning, and when closing them in the evening, and frequently offer each other tea and cigarettes through the day, and that terminates all connection. A Babel street, dealers in French novelties; an American dentist; a barber, a Jewish money changer side by side, while on foot in the roadway divers people from diverse nations throng--few groups but a constant movement. Among them are loaded camels, people on horses, donkeys, mules, victorias drawn by Arab steeds always on the trot. The guards driving to one side the crowd by blows in the face with their sticks, water carriers, soldiers, in fact, everybody, hustling, bustling in search of something. In the bazaar of Khan Khabiel we found copper utensils of all forms and sizes, coffee pots, perfume burners, ewers, chandeliers for mosques, Persian caskets chiseled to perfection, articles of rhinoceros horn, Circassian and Saracen steel armor, inlaid with gold, tables of mother of pearl and ivory. A dealer in old clothes sat at the angle of the street playing a game of chance with his neighbor. We see Koran letters in green on black ground hung in black frames standing against the wall, while the owner sits dreaming near by, apparently deriving much comfort from his kief. The streets are narrow, often hedged from houses by a trellis work, fashioned from palm leaves. The sun penetrates in spots. Through these apertures one sees the clear blue sky and black kites, vultures and hawks describing circles, and at intervals wild geese from the north go flying by. The roads are covered with dust which, when it rains, becomes almost impassable. We see coming towards us women accompanied by slave bathing attendants, going to a public bath house reserved for females. They meet by appointment, burn perfumed aloes, etc., send for singers and treat themselves to pastry and sweets.

The roofs of carpet bazaars, half covered with mats and shreds of cloth, permit the soft light to filter through, and upon the sacred prayer rug throws a mellowed light. Piles of camels' bags, some brilliant in color, with mountains of rugs from all parts of the east; those of the velvety silken texture with blended colors come from Persia. A coarser kind of many stripes comes from Rabah, Tunis and Kurdistan. Long squares with ground of soft blue are used by the Mohammedans in their devotion and are made in Smyrna and Bokhara. The gem polisher sits within the doorway of his shop, with wheels and implements, whereon he perfects his work. We are interested in the Persian turquoise, the most desirable to be purchased. We buy, we think, flawless ones of exquisite shades.

The Ramhadin, or season of fasting, by the Moslems, continues one month, and during that time they neither taste nor smell food or tobacco between sunrise and sunset. After this vile durance, we were told, their appetites can scarcely be appeased, nor their tempers curbed.

The weddings in December and January are in rule and, by applying for an invitation, your dragoman as a great favor to his lady, can and will obtain one or more, for which you must compensate him, besides defraying all expenses, and giving flowers and presents. You must expect but little less expenditure than at our own weddings in our own country, and but little to repay you. On the evening of the 24th of December (1895), Christmas trees were on exhibition at the hotel for the benefit of the guests; the ladies only received presents. The room was most brilliant with electric lights and three large trees most artistically decorated with bright balls, cornucopias and trinkets. A card was given each lady and the number thereon drew a prize. My first was a box of candy and a small toilet article. Not eating candy, I presented both articles and asked Mr. Bailey, our host, for another chance, which drew me a white satin sofa cushion cover. For a time we almost forgot we were so far from home. There were so many familiar faces gathered around those trees, besides no limit to others who believed that the "Coming of Christ" meant good gifts to men. The 30th of December my brother and his family left me to return to America. I was over-persuaded to go up the Nile, a trip I most reluctantly made. As I felt the depression of the Egyptian atmosphere, added to my depressed condition from the medicine taken (prescribed by a missionary doctor on board the steamer "Pekin") throughout my Indian journey that I was unfit to travel any longer--and I had no desire to die so far from home--the pressure against my own judgment outweighed in the balance, and I left Cairo on the steamer "Ramises III" at 9:15 o'clock a. m. December 31st, 1895. The room assigned to me by Thomas Cook & Co. was No. 63, on the upper deck. I had no room mate, much to my joy. This was my "mascot" from the time I boarded the steamer at Vancouver--with but one exception, and that was on the steamer "Pekin" from Columbo to Calcutta where I had a dear old lady from Australia (Mrs. Champion) share my cabin. We had seventy first-class passengers. Among them were Mrs. John A. Logan, Dr. B., of Brooklyn, Miss Paul, Miss Koon and Miss Dousman, Mr. and Mrs. George Hale and his sister, Mrs. Mathews, Conan Doyle, wife and sister, and from England we had the knighted organist of Westminster Abbey and Lady Campbell and daughter, while others I could mention to whom I became attached were Mrs. Allis and daughter, of Milwaukee, and Mrs. Wilbur and daughter, from Flatbush, Long Island. I must not fail to speak of Mr. Osterburg, the Swedish consul in Cairo, who made himself most agreeable. Our dragomen were Richard and Claudius, the former a Syrian, the latter I saw less of, but some of the passengers, who became interested in him, visited in person his little wife, about fourteen years old, who had a mud hut in the vicinity of one of the stopping places on the Nile.

After lunch was served on our first day out we made our first landing at Bedrashead, site of Memphis and Sakkarah, where we saw the colossal statue of Ramises II, lying prostrate, in readiness to be transferred to some less favored spot. I had a fine mount, and Richard stuck close to "my lady" (you must remember that much respect is paid to the aged in the Orient). The temple of Ptah, the step pyramid, pyramid of Teta, pyramid of Pepi 1st, and the Ape's Mausoleum, were shown us. This last was most interesting. Magnesium lights of the guides enabled us to distinguish in these dark, subterranean passages, where 3,700 years ago, naked foot-prints left on layers of sand, placed in the corners of these mortuary chambers, testify to a primitive appearance. Here people made superhuman effort to hide their burial places for all ages to come, to prevent rude hands from pulling their bones apart until, according to their religion, their souls would again return to their well preserved bodies--to enjoy Nirvana.

We saw the tomb of "Thi," Necropolis of Saharah; also Marrek's house. To the latter is due much credit for his perseverance in unearthing and protecting the contents of these buried ruins. My first donkey ride was a success, not that I enjoyed it, but owing to a most considerate donkey boy, who walked at the side of the beast (instead of the rear) and allowed me to hold in my left hand the reins and my right arm around his swarthy neck. Thus, I took all those excursions on the Nile without an accident, till I gave myself the title of "the lady of a fond embrace," while others, more daring and perhaps more dainty of touch, were more than once thrown over the donkey's head, suffering from bruises that took more than a day to heal. Immediately on reaching the steamer, at 4:30 p. m., tea was served on deck. I was more than weary and so sore I could scarcely taste of my dinner, but, thanks to a kind Providence, I was by morning on deck, but that day we made no excursions. The following day we landed at Beni-Hassan, visiting the Rock Tombs, consisting of chambers, shaft and corridors, where the mummies were once placed, but now all are swept and garnished. All that remains to tell the tale, are the writings and sculpturing on the walls. The scribe has taken precaution that he who runs may read. The series of bas-reliefs is a biography in stone with illustrations. The entire life of a man is written there. I must quote from a writer a few lines that have impressed me: "It is said that man's head becomes smaller every day, his muscle and chest enlarged; animal strength develops at the expense of the brain, which diminishes in proportion. The law of the strongest is the law of human species, one-half of which is seeking to destroy the other." These scenes depicted on the crumbling ruins, enriched by color, are strikingly realistic, built partly during the life time, and often after the death of the person. These give the best possible insight into the life of the Egyptians of that period. From past ages to the present hour are men building their own monuments, immortalizing, if possible, their virtues. How well the foundation should be laid, that the principles, overlapping each other, may make a fitting example for future generations.