CHAPTER LI--THE WEDDING OF THE KHEDIVE’S SON.--ENJOYING A MONARCH’S HOSPITALITY.

_High Jinks in the Egyptian Capital--Dancing Horses--Arabian Blooded Steeds--Treading the “Light Fantastic Toe”--Bedouin Riders--The Mysterious Cage--Egyptian Prima Donnas--A Spice of the Arabian Nights--A Silken Palace--Headquarters of the Khedive--Thoughtless Intruders upon Royalty--A Glimpse of the Princes Royal--The Heir of the Throne of Egypt--His Appearance, Dress, and Character--A Cordial Invitation--Partaking of the Khedive’s Hospitality--A Turkish Comedy--A Free Lunch--End of the Festival._

NEAR the entrance of the field, of which I have spoken, there was a platform twelve or fifteen feet high, and twenty-five or thirty feet square, where a dozen acrobats were performing by the light of a row of open pots of burning oil.

A little farther on there was an exhibition of dancing horses. A pace was set off with a surrounding of ropes and stakes, and into this space the horses were led, two or three, sometimes half a dozen, at a time. The rider then took his place in the saddle, flourished a spear, and the dance began. You remember what Dr. Johnson said about a dog that walked on his hind legs: It was a very bad imitation of upright walking, and you wonder not at the way he does it, but that he does it at all. It was so with this equine dance. The animals were of pure Arabian stock and had been well trained, and showed great intelligence; but after all, when you considered the performance from a terpsichorean point of view, it wasn’t much. Some Arabic music was played, and the horses seemed to be keeping time to it, though the real fact was that the time was kept by the rider. It was the {645}sort of thing that most of us have seen at the circus, and not equal to what we sometimes see in that entertainment. The riders were dressed like Bedouins of the desert, but were really some of the Khedive’s cavalry, attired for the occasion, to make them more picturesque. A very few moments sufficed to satisfy us with the performance.

The next thing that attracted our attention was a large crowd around a sort of cage about ten feet square, and near the cage several musicians were standing, and playing an Arab air of a rather doleful character. Guards with rattan canes kept the assemblage from approaching too near, and I must do the crowd the credit to say that the native portion of it did not make any attempt to overstep the bounds. Not so the strangers, of whom we were two; we wanted to investigate and didn’t heed the guards until they called us to order and motioned for us to fall back.

The sides of the cage were of lattice-work, and not unlike the lathed walls of a room before the plaster is laid on. We could see forms moving within, but could not make out whether they were men, women, or beasts. The instrumental music ceased what was evidently an overture, as it soon struck up again, and this time there was an accompaniment of voices from the interior of the cage. Now the mystery was explained.

In the Orient it is not considered proper for women to speak in public on the stage, or even to sing there. They have no Nilssons or Pattis there, and neither have they a Miss Anthony or Mrs. Stanton. The Orient does not trouble itself about women’s rights; in fact there are very few women’s rights there of any sort, and as for the men’s rights, they are scarce enough. This cage that we saw was a Steinway Hall or Academy of Music, and the women that sang there were inside, where the eyes of men could not reach them. They could peer through the openings and see the crowd, but the crowd couldn’t peer through the openings to see them. The guards were very watchful, and kept the masculine eyes from approaching too near the sacred enclosure. We couldn’t throw bouquets or kiss our hands to the fair singers, and there was no obliging usher who would undertake to convey a note to the _prima donna_, begging the honor of an introduction. I don’t think much of the Oriental opera. The music had no {646}charms to soothe my Occidental breast, and even had such been the case, it would have lost much by the concealment of the singers. Think of going to a concert in New York or London, where the performers are hid behind a grating or obliged to sing through a curtain impervious to vision! Give me the opera of the Occident, where you can see the singers.

In all parts of the field the people were collected in crowds, particularly around the tents, which seemed to be the centres of attraction.

I may as well say something about all the tents, and what they were there for. They were supposed to be tents of repose and refreshment, and each person who visited the field of the festivities was supposed to be the guest of the Khedive. Readers of the Arabian Nights will remember that the rulers whose careers are there recorded, were constantly giving entertainments to the people, just as the Roman emperors did in their day, and just as some of the rulers in Europe are accustomed to do at the present time. Many of the customs of the time of the Arabian Nights are continued in Mohammedan countries at the present day, but the fêtés are less magnificent than of old, for the reason that money is less abundant.

Everything was free in the show I am describing; lamps, music, fireworks, acrobats, dancing horses, and tents, were paid for out of the Khedive’s purse, and it was emphatically _his_ blowout.

The tents were a part of the entertainment; that on the extreme left of the field was of silk, and had rich divans and carpets in the interior, and the one next to it was nearly but not quite as magnificent in material and decorations. As we moved towards the right we found the tents steadily diminishing in luxury; the last of the lot was fitted with common chairs and uncushioned divans, and had the earth for a carpet. A placard or sign in front of the entrance indicated the use of each tent and the persons to whom it was appropriated.

Beginning on the left, the tents were appropriated as follows: First, the Khedive and his sons; second, the corps diplomatique; third, judges and law officials. Then there was a tent each to the ministers of war, navy, foreign affairs, finance, etc. Then {647}there was a tent for each of the following departments and classes: Military and naval officers; court and staff officers; engineer’s staff; custom-house officials; higher courts; clergy--Mohammedan clergy, Arab and Coptic clergy, Christian clergy; city officials; police officials; school officials; railway officials; merchants of higher class; builders and architects; medical men; merchants of Cairo; merchants of Alexandria; merchants of other parts of Egypt; officials of small towns; gentlemen of upper Egypt; gentlemen of lower Egypt; and last, the public in general, to whom four tents were assigned.

Each tent had several attendants, one of whom--the chief--was supposed to represent the Khedive, and to entertain visitors in his name. We thoughtlessly endeavored to enter the first tent, where the Khedive’s sons had just arrived with a numerous following of staff officers, but the guards kept us back. The two youths were sipping coffee and chatting with those around them; the elder, the heir to the throne, has a pleasing face, and appeared quite vivacious, but the second was a trifle too fat and stout to have any very expressive lines about his features. A few evenings later I had an introduction to both of them, followed by a chat of a quarter of an hour, principally with the elder. He speaks French fluently, and has an easy, polished manner quite unlike the traditional gravity of the Oriental. His dress is entirely European, with the exception of the _fez_, and his general appearance reminds one more of Europe than of the drowsy East. Great care has been bestowed on his education, and when he comes to the throne he will not be unaware of his duties and responsibilities.

Several officers of the diplomatic corps were in the tent appropriated to them, and were sipping coffee and smoking cigars and cigarettes in an easy, unconcerned way. A few screens had been set up at one side of the tent to form an extempore theatre, where half a dozen actors were giving a Turkish comedy. I say _actors_ for the reason that though two women were in the piece, their characters were sustained by men so well disguised in dress, voice, and manner, that their sex would not be suspected.

The diplomats paid very little attention to the play, and the most appreciative part of the audience was that which stood out{648}side the ropes and could not get in. We endeavored to gain admission to tent after tent, but were politely but firmly kept back until we reached the one appropriated to the engineer staff, where the representative of the Khedive spoke to us in French and invited us to walk in. An attendant was ordered to bring us coffee and another to bring us cigars or cigarettes at our choice, and we were shown to seats on the divans. We crossed our legs in Oriental style, and thus made a favorable impression that secured us a second cup of coffee before we left.

From this tent onward we were welcomed at all, but we were quite satisfied after visiting three or four, as etiquette required that we should take coffee whenever we sat down, and the coffee of the East is like Sam Weller’s veal pie, “werry fillin.” We had a good taste of Oriental hospitality, and were not at all displeased with the courtesy that was shown us.

All foreigners who were on the ground were treated with similar liberality and coffee, but the general populace was not allowed to enter any of the tents except those specially assigned to it.

Returning to the front of the Diplomatic tent I found the Turkish comedy still in progress and the diplomats as inattentive as before. While we were standing near the ropes our Consul-General, Mr. Beardsley, caught sight of me and came out to shake hands. The instant he spoke to me the guards made way and escorted Gustave and myself into the tent and were as civil to us as to any of the accredited occupants. The attendants brought coffee and cigars on the instant; the coffee was better and the cigars were of much finer quality than those we had received in the tents further down the line The divans were softer and the carpet was real Turkey that must have cost many piastres to the square yard. We reclined in front of the improvised theatre, and pretended to be much interested in the play, thinking that was the proper thing to do. Mr. Beardsley explained that we would offend nobody, not even the actors, by paying no attention to the show, and as we could not understand the dialogue, we very soon became as careless and unobservant as anybody else.

Turkish comedy must be a tame affair according to Western ideas, and I would not advise any enterprising manager to import {649}a company from Constantinople or Cairo under the belief that he could make a sensation and with it a fortune. The recitations were monotonous and the plot was exceedingly simple as Mr. Beardsley explained it, and had the usual mixture of love and jealousy that we find in comedies all over the globe.

“It is fortunate for you,” said he with a smile, “that you do not understand Turkish dialogue. Your sensibilities might receive a shock from some of the allusions which are rather too indelicate for the English or American stage.”

“Where ignorance is bliss ‘tis folly to be wise,” saith the old proverb. We drank our coffee and smoked our cigars undisturbed by the improprieties we could not comprehend.

Cakes and sweetmeats were brought but we declined them, and soon followed Mr. Beardsley to the outer gate where his carriage awaited him. Bidding him good night we returned to the enclosure and stumbled upon a large tent standing apart from the rest. Investigating this we found that it was a restaurant with what a New Yorker would call a free lunch standing ready, for those who were hungry. The bill of fare was not extensive, but consisted of Arab stews of mutton and goat’s flesh, and of two or three dishes in which rice was a prominent ingredient. We were invited to enter but declined as we had had all the Arab dishes we wanted during our Nile journey.

When the hereditary prince was married the restaurants were more numerous and better supplied than on the present occasion, and I was told that in one of them there was a free service of champagne to all foreigners. No really good Mohammedan drinks wine--his religion forbids it--but they are not very straight-laced in Egypt, and you not unfrequently find steady drinkers who between their glasses repeat reverentially the Moslem formula “_La illah, il Allah; Mohammed yessul illah!_” (There is no God but God and Mohammed is the Prophet of God.) The East is fast becoming civilized. As I have before said, many Orientals who would have been horrified at the thought twenty years ago will now treat their wives as though they were human beings, and do not hesitate to get drunk when occasion offers. New England missionaries and New England rum are more popular in the Orient than they were formerly. {650}But while I have been talking, the pyrotechnics have burned out, the musicians--Arab and Occidental--have ended their strains, the tent-lamps are burning dimly, the candles in the Chinese lanterns are flickering, the acrobats and singers have disappeared, and the crowd is dispersing. So we will to our donkeys and gallop back to our boat moored against the bank of the lotos-bearing Nile, and in the quiet of its cabins will fall into a well-earned sleep to be filled with dreams of a gala night in Egypt.

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