CHAPTER XXXV—IN AND AROUND THE CITY OF THE CALIPHS.
A Costly Breakfast—Ismailia—The Palace of the Khedive—On an Egyptian Railroad Train—Rolling Through the Desert—The Delta of the Nile, What Is It?—The Garden of Egypt—Cairo—The Mighty Pyramids—Life at an Egyptian Hotel—Sights of the Capital—Cairo of To-Day—Occidental Progress and Oriental Conservatism—Burglaries and Other Modern Improvements—Cosmopolitan Costumes—A Harem Taking an Airing—A Daring Robbery—The Battle-Field of the Pyramids—Slaughter of the Mamelukes—Singular Escape of Emir Bey.
WE breakfasted at the only hotel in Ismailia, paying a frightfully high price for the meal, and then we hastened to the railway station to take the train to Cairo. We had no time to look about the town, but the little we saw was pleasing. The houses were embowered in trees, and there were pretty gardens here and there, some of them very tastefully arranged. There was a broad avenue from the landing place to the railway station, and there is a well-built quay, more than a mile long.
The Khedive has a palace here that looks, from a distance, like a comfortable and cozy residence, and there has lately sprung up a sea-bathing establishment on the shores of the lake. Port Said and Ismailia are the urban results of the canal; the former is practical and the latter is both practical and beautiful.
We waited at the station nearly an hour, the train being somewhat late in coming from Suez. Finally it appeared and we entered it.
The coaches were not attractive in the way of cleanliness and comfort, and we were rather more crowded than we liked to be. We moved off at a dignified pace, along the banks of the Sweetwater Canal, and with the desert stretching out around us.
There is very little to be seen on the railway journey from Ismailia to Cairo. Part of the way we were in the desert, and a part of the way we skirted the rich delta of the Nile.
We passed towns and villages in great number, and saw fields bright with verdure, although it was midwinter. Men were at work in the fields, with no abundance of clothing, and half-naked children were playing out-of-doors as they might play in New York in August.
We made brief stoppages at half a dozen stations, possibly at double that number, as I kept no reckoning, and about six hours after leaving Ismailia we saw the Pyramids sharply outlined against the western sky, where the sun was setting, as they have stood outlined for more than forty centuries; and as dusk had fallen and darkness was gathering around us, we rolled into the station at Cairo, and were speedily in the midst of a noisy crowd of the usual attendance upon arriving trains. Soon we ran all the gauntlets of the station and its surroundings, and were quartered in the comfortable Hotel du Nil.
It was after six o’clock in the evening when we reached the hotel, and we had just time to prepare for dinner when the bell announced that the meal was ready. It was the first of January, and the proprietor stood treat on the occasion, everybody being liberally supplied with champagne. The hotel seemed to promise well, and we went to bed contented and happy.
Twenty years ago or more, Cairo was far more Oriental than it is to-day. There was no railway in Egypt, and travellers were not numerous.
The few that came here were not sufficient to manners and habits of the people. The foreign population was small, and left nearly everything in the hands of the natives, and the foreigners in the service of the government were few and far between, and generally in irresponsible positions. Maintenant ou a changé tout cela.
Egypt has her network of railways and her maritime canal; she has telegraphs, she has steamboats, she has a navy, armed with rifled cannon, she has an army, many of whose officers have come from other lands, and whose soldiers are supplied with breech-loading guns of the most approved patterns. The foreign quarter of Cairo contains inhabitants from all parts of Europe, and they can be counted by the thousand. The city can boast of parks and gardens of great beauty; tall buildings of stone rise above the humble edifices of Arab architecture, and there are wide streets and boulevards, where the smooth pavement supports the wheels of elegant carriages of European manufacture, drawn by horses of great beauty and value.
The costume of the Occident mingles with that of the Orient; the Frank jostles against the native; the church rises in sight of the mosque; and the sound of Christian worship mingles with the voice of the Muezzin as he chants in the minaret the call
for the faithful to assemble at prayer. You may see a group of women, closely veiled and mounted on donkeys, under the escort of a tall eunuch, whose features and complexion mark his Nubian origin. It is the harem of a Moslem out for an airing, and you may seek in vain to penetrate the veils that cover the faces of the fair riders. Their baggy dresses are puffed out like balloons, as the breeze blows against them, and they are as much Oriental as though they had stepped from the pages of the Arabian Nights.
The next minute there comes before you a handsome carriage, drawn by a pair of high-stepping horses, and containing a beautiful woman dressed in all the taste and elegance of Paris or New York. It is the wife, perhaps, of a resident foreigner, and you may see many carriages and many occupants in the course of your promenade. The procession on the donkeys makes way for the vehicle, and halts until it passes. Thus the customs of the Occident are invading the once dull and listless East.
Cairo has grown rapidly in wealth and importance in the past score of years, particularly in the last decade. The Moslem is no longer supreme in commerce as of yore, and finds it useless to sit idly and wait for a customer, as once was his wont. The bustling habit of the European is becoming engrafted upon the country, and the railway and telegraph are teaching to the people the value of time and the disadvantages of the old modes of locomotion. Builders are busy in Cairo, and large edifices, on the plan of Paris, are completed, or in the process of erection.
The new part of Cairo can boast of straight avenues, with lines of shade trees and with rows of well-built houses, from whose windows peep out women, whose unveiled faces show they are not of Moslem faith. While I was in Egypt, a gentleman arrived there after an absence of more than twenty years. He told me he could not recognize that part of Cairo beyond the Ezbekieh gardens. All was changed, and where once were open fields or waste places, there are now the streets and avenues of a city.
There is a handsome bridge of iron across the Nile, and there is a broad and well-built carriage-road from Cairo to the foot of the great Pyramids at Gizeh. Steamboats are plying on the river, and factories rear their tall chimneys on the land. Rows and rows of shops are conducted by foreign capital and tended by foreign men. The streets are lighted with gas, and it is proposed to provide them with wooden pavement, like that which has found favor in many American cities. The post-office is efficiently managed, and so is the police—both of them on the European model.
The temperance of the Orient may prevail among the original inhabitants, but the foreigners manage to get drunk with as much freedom as they would at home, and likewise to be arrested and fined. And so many Christians have found their way there, that crime can be no longer suppressed.
While I was in Cairo there was a burglary that would have done honor to London or New York. A jewelry establishment was entered at night, and property to the value of six thousand pounds sterling was taken. The robbers entered by breaking a hole in a side wall, and they took away everything, except a quantity of clocks, that were evidently too cumbersome. Not a watch, not a piece of jewelry of any kind was left behind, and the fellows got clean away. Does not this sound like civilization?
Polygamy is growing unpopular, and the natives are becoming content to live with one wife each, according to the Western custom. And, still following the Western custom, they abuse her, and stay out late of nights, at the club or the theatre, or somewhere else, and are not over liberal in supplying her pecuniary wants. Slavery is not altogether suppressed, but is greatly restricted, and has no legal protection. Gambling houses abound, not only for native, but for foreign patronage, and to judge by the number of these places, the foreigners that come here are fond of combats with the tiger.
I might name many other indications of the change that has come over Egypt, but the foregoing must suffice.
One of our first excursions was to the Citadel. Its character is shown by its name; it was built in 1166, by Saladin, as a defence to the city, but the site was rather unwisely selected, as it is dominated by the Mokattam—a hill directly behind it—and has once been taken by batteries, stationed on the latter eminence. It is strong enough to resist an attack by small arms, and some of its towers are quite massive and picturesque. It is quite extensive, and contains a palace and a mosque, the latter built almost entirely of alabaster. The interior of the mosque is particularly rich, in consequence of the material used in its construction, and the arches have a curious effect, quite impossible to describe in writing. The palace also abounds in the same material, and contains some very handsome rooms.
But the great charm of the citadel is the view from the platform. One can look upon the Nile and a portion of its rich valley, and on nearly the whole city of Cairo. The roofs of the houses are below the feet of the observer, and there are only the highest minarets of the mosques to approach him in elevation. In the west are the Pyramids, standing in the edge of the desert, and looking more grand than when one sees them from the bank of the river.
The best time for this view is at sunset, and if the air is clear there are few pictures anywhere in the world to surpass it. There is a wonderful contrast between the flat roofs and domes and minarets of the city, and the rich green of the open country beyond. Altogether the view from the Citadel at sunset is one that should not be missed by a visitor to Cairo, and once enjoyed it is not likely to be speedily forgotten.
We were shown the spot where one of the Mamelukes saved himself, by jumping his horse over a wall and down upon a pile of rubbish thirty or more feet below. The horse was killed, but the rider was not hurt.
Mohammed Ali found the Mamelukes troublesome, just as the Janizaries were in Constantinople, and he determined to get rid of them. He invited them to a banquet at the palace, and they came in their richest suits, and when they were all in the courtyard of the palace, his Albanian body guard opened fire upon them from the surrounding windows and from the crenelated walls. The gates had been shut, and there was no chance of escape, and all were slaughtered except Emir Bey, the one who saved himself in the way mentioned. This little incident occurred in 1811, and put an end to the disturbances that the Mamelukes frequently created.
Mohammed Ali loved peace and quietness and was willing to do anything in reason to secure them. The Mamelukes were constantly making trouble, and rendering the throne insecure; in fact they had the power of saying who should or should not be the ruler of the land. Is there anything more natural, than that he should study how to get rid of them, and in such a way that his motives could not be questioned? If he had asked them to come to his palace and be killed, there is every reason to believe they would have remained away; at any rate some of them would have been fastidious, and declined his polite invitation, so that his scheme for bagging them all would have failed. It was much better to invite them to a banquet; a man is much more likely to go to a good dinner, than to accept the honors of a butchery in which he is to occupy an objective place. Some men are so particular.
Why didn’t he poison them at the banquet, some one may ask. Poisoning isn’t respectable, and besides, you always run a risk of changing glasses with somebody, and getting into your own stomach the arsenic you intended for his. Servants are careless at dinner, and then you always have some guests, who don’t drink and are quite likely to detest the particular kind of soup or pie where you have placed your medicine. Besides, when you poison a man, he has no time to prepare for death, while in a massacre like this he has lots of it. The Mamelukes that were not shot at the first fire had at least a quarter of a minute for preparation, as it would take quite that time to open the windows and level the rifles. Then you must add the period required for the bullets to go from the rifles to the Mamelukes, and altogether you will conclude that the time must have hung heavy on their hands. Those not killed at the first fire, had the additional time required for reloading, and you must remember, before condemning Mohammed Ali for taking them unawares, that the rifles of that day were charged at the muzzle and were much slower to load than the Sharps, and Mansers, and Chassepots of our time.
The more you study this massacre of the Mamelukes, the more you must admire Mohammed Ali for the way he managed it He attended to the details, and did no bungling work.
CHAPTER XXXVI—AN INTERVIEW WITH THE KHEDIVE.—LIFE IN THE CITY OF THE NILE.
The Khedive, who is he?—A hard-worked Pasha—His personal habits—My interview with him—Adventures of an old hat—Arranging ourselves for a royal reception—An eastern Monarch in a European dress—An unimpeachable costume—A fluent talker—Bedouin Reporters—A carriage from the Harem—Two pair of bright eyes—Unveiling the women—A talk with a couple of pigmies—A nation of dwarf-warriors—My impressions of the Khedive.
MOHAMMED Ali, the founder of the present ruling family of Egypt, was a man of great ability, but his energies were devoted to repairing the damages done by the misfortunes that preceded his reign, rather than to marking out new paths of progress for Egypt. At the time of his death in 1848 the country was much the same as in the early part of the century.
Under the rulers that succeeded him, particularly under Said Pasha, some progress was made; but it was not until the present Viceroy, Ismail Pasha, ascended the throne, that Egypt began her career of improvement. There were a few steamboats on the Lower Nile before his time, and the construction of the Suez canal had been begun, but the railway was practically unknown, and the cities and villages were in much the same condition that they had been for a long time. Nearly all the great public works owe their origin to the present Khedive, Ismail Pasha, and he can point with pride to Egypt as she stands to-day.
If anybody imagines that it is easy work to be king, he would change his mind, if he could, for a few weeks, make an exchange of places with Ismail Pasha. There is not, I was told, a more industrious man in the country than the Khedive. He rises early, takes his bath and makes his toilet; then he takes a light breakfast and sits down to work a little past seven o’clock, and sometimes before that hour.
There are a lot of documents to examine, and questions to decide, which occupy him until eight o’clock, when his ministers arrive, and he holds counsel with them on matters connected with their different departments.
Thus his time is consumed till near eleven o’clock or between ten and eleven, when he gives audiences to miscellaneous officials, to the foreign representatives and to strangers whom they have arranged to introduce to His Highness. This lasts until noon when he retires to breakfast and a rest of an hour or so; then he generally takes a drive in his carriage, and very often has one of his ministers to accompany him, so that quite possibly he combines pleasure with business, by discussing affairs of state during the drive.
The latter part of the day is passed according to circumstances. Sometimes there will be more bureau duty and ministerial interviews; sometimes there are state dinners and court ceremonies, and sometimes an important matter will come up unexpectedly, so that business and ceremony are crowded close together. Sometimes he attends the opera in the evening, but this not often, and when he goes there he does not remain to the end. He retires early, so as to have plenty of rest, and he lives very carefully and regularly. He is said to be abstemious in matters of food and drink, for only by his regular habits could he preserve his health through so much hard work as he performs.
Through the kindness of Mr. Beardsley, our diplomatic agent and Consul-General for Egypt, I had the pleasure, one day, of an interview with the Khedive. At a visit to the palace a few days before, Mr. Beardsley had asked to present two of his fellow countrymen, Mr. Bayard Taylor and myself, and on the same evening he received notice that half-past ten on the day in question had been fixed for the reception. We were notified at once, and accordingly crowded our slender forms into our dress suits, brushed our stove-pipe hats into the best available appearance, and sallied forth from our hotel.
Candor compels me to say that my hat was not new, and had passed through a variety of experiences by sea and land, in rain and dust, and in numerous mishaps that had creased, and indented, and thread-bared its once glossy skin and faultless shape.
It had been new once, but since then I had transported it across Europe, summered it in Vienna, taken it down the Danube, into Southern Russia, through the Crimea and carried it to Constantinople, Athens, and Smyrna, into Syria and Palestine, and thence into Egypt.
Don’t you think that a hat which has been through so much would need a great deal of polishing to fit it for a vice-regal presentation?
But it went through the ordeal gloriously, and as I kept it behind me most of the time, the Khedive never made—to me at least—any comment about it.
As for Mr. Taylor—well, I may be revealing a secret and it may breed a quarrel between us, but candor again compels me to speak out. His hat wasn’t his hat but another gentleman’s, borrowed for the occasion, or if it wasn’t it might have been. I never saw him wear it before, and it was much better than mine, which was only fit to be seen when out of sight. Mr. Taylor ought to have been proud of that hat when he compared it with the one I carried, but if he was, he was too polite to hurt my feelings, and didn’t manifest any haughtiness.
Accompanied by Mr. Beardsley, we drove to the Abdeen Palace, where the Khedive resides with his family,—a neat and substantial looking edifice, in the western part of Cairo. As we entered the courtyard and drove to the door, the sentinels on duty presented arms, and we were met at the doorway by Murad Pasha, the Master of Ceremonies, who greeted us cordially and escorted us to the waiting room on the ground floor.
Here we spent some fifteen minutes,—as we were ahead of time—in conversation with the Master of Ceremonies and with Ibrahim Pasha, nephew of the Khedive. The secretary and assistant secretary of the Khedive were present, and we were introduced to both. The time passed away rapidly, as all were fluent in French and the conversation was not confined to particular topics.
Promptly at half-past ten we were ushered up one side of a double staircase, that turned and formed a single broad escalier, a dozen steps or so below the audience floor. Murad Pasha accompanied us to the foot of the broad stairway, and thence we—the Consul-General and ourselves—proceeded alone. As I raised my eyes I saw the Khedive standing carelessly at the further side of the room; when he caught site of our advancing column he stepped forward to meet us. He first greeted Mr. Beardsley, who followed the greeting by introducing Mr. Taylor with a few carefully chosen and appropriate words concerning him. Then came my turn, and while the Consul-General was making the introduction, the Khedive shook hands with us and welcomed us to his house. He then led the way to the audience room, a smaller parlor, overlooking the court yard.
The reception hall, where he met us, was furnished in the French style, with large mirrors and Parisian furniture; the audience parlor, whither we followed him, was similarly adorned in European style, with chairs and sofas covered with snow-white linen, and with a marble table in the centre. The walls were covered with blue paper, figured with small flowers of a grayish tint, and the curtains and fixtures were in harmony with the walls. A tasteful chandelier above the table was filled with candles, ready for lighting, and on the table was a box of cigars, which, doubtless, were equally ready for lighting.
If we had gone there expecting to find the ruler of Egypt wearing baggy trowsers and a turban and smoking a nargileh, we should have been greatly disappointed. His dress is entirely European, with the single exception of the fez, or tarboosh, which covers his head. His coat and trowsers were of English cut; the former was double-breasted, with silk trimmings on the lappels, and he wore it buttoned after the style of a morning or walking coat in London or New York.
His shirt-front was almost entirely concealed by a black cravat or necktie, fastened at the crossing with a single pin of what appeared to be a ruby; beyond this pin he wore no jewelry whatever. His spotless white collar was turned down, and from the neatness of its fit and the careful polish it presented, I judge that he has a better laundress than I was able to find in Cairo. I was on the point of asking him to recommend me to her, but forebore, on the supposition that he might prefer to keep such a good washwoman to himself.
The figure of the Khedive is not of the lean and hungry kind; he appears to be about five feet nine in height, and is decidedly inclined to stoutness, without being ill-proportioned.
Physically, he appears to have lived well, without any overfeeding. His face is full and broad, and he wears a closely-trimmed beard and moustache of a brownish hue. When in repose, his face is quite thoughtful, but as soon as he begins to talk it lightens up, and there is a constant play of animation over all his features. His brown eyes sparkle, and he accompanies his facial expression with frequent gestures of his hands, quite in contrast to the solemn and stately manner which we associate with Oriental rulers.
The Khedive took a seat in the corner of the room, and motioned us to places near him, one on his right and two on his left, so that he could address all three without any necessity for a change of position beyond a very slight turning of the head. He began the conversation by asking Mr. Taylor if this was his first visit to Egypt. The latter replied that he was there twenty years ago and made a journey to the White Nile.
“Ah, yes,” said His Highness, “that was in the time of Abbas Pasha.”
Mr. Taylor bowed assent, and remarked the wonderful changes that had taken place since that time, and the great progress that he noticed all around, to which the Khedive made acknowledgment by a slight but graceful bow.
There was a pause of a few seconds, which was broken by a question from Mr. Beardsley as to the latest intelligence from; the upper country, where the Egyptian troops had a battle with the army of the King of Darfoor.
“Nothing very recent,” was the reply of the Khedive; “nothing since the news two or three weeks ago of the battle in which the King was defeated. The report was that the King attacked our forces, and was defeated with heavy loss, but it must have been his son, as the King himself, le pauvre diable, is totally blind, and couldn’t do much in leading an army. I am sure it must have been his son, though the dispatch did not say so.”
Conversation then went on, concerning Darfoor and its extent and resources. The Khedive spoke of the effort he was making for the suppression of the slave-trade, and said they had a force stationed there to watch the frontier and liberate the slaves which were being transported by caravans.
“The Bedouins inform us,” said he, “of the movements of the caravans, so that we have no difficulty in knowing where they are. We have told the Darfoorians that we do not wish to interfere with them, only in stopping the slave trade, and we are on good terms with them, except in this one matter.”
He said, further, that the Darfoorian army had four cannon, and that in the recent battle the Egyptians took three of them.
I asked him where they obtained the cannon, and he said, with a smile, that two of them were sent as a present from Said Pasha, the former Viceroy, to the King of Darfoor. These two guns were among the three captured; the third was a very old and nearly useless piece that the Darfoorians bought, probably, from some of the traders to the sea-coast, and the other gun which they still retained was of the same sort. I asked what kind of small arms the Darfoorians had, and he replied that, in addition to their lances and bows and arrows, they had flint-lock muskets, quite inadequate for coping with the breech-loading rifles with which his own army is equipped.
After some further talk about the Darfoorians and the country of the Soudan, which Egypt has recently explored, and continues to explore, the conversation turned upon the pigmies, which had been brought from Central Africa. The Khedive gave us some interesting details about them, and recommended that we should go and see them at the Kasr-el-Nil barracks, where they were then kept. There was a brief conversation about the explorations of Livingstone, Schweinfurth, and Miani, and when it ended, the Khedive rose, and we did likewise. He accompanied us to the head of the staircase, gave each a farewell hand-shake, and said, in addition to the usual phrases of civility, “If I can be of any service to you, do not hesitate to inform me.”
We thanked him for his proffered kindness, bowed our adieux, and descended the stairway. At the foot we were met by the Master of Ceremonies, who accompanied us to the waiting-room, where we had left our overcoats, and subsequently accompanied us to our carriage.
Our interview with the Khedive lasted about twenty minutes. He speaks French easily and correctly, and without any hesitation whatever. His manner throughout was easy and frank, and thoroughly pleasant, and such as to remove any embarrassment on the part of a visitor. There were touches of humor in his utterances, which cannot be rendered into English without losing their charm, and therefore I will not attempt to give them.
From the Abdeen palace we drove to the barracks of Kasr-el-Nil to see the little men about whom His Highness had told us. Just as we left the palace, we met one of the harem carriages, containing two women, guarded by a couple of soldiers and the same number of eunuchs. The four were on splendid horses, the soldiers preceding and the eunuchs following the carriage. The blind of the carriage was down, and as the vehicle whisked rapidly past us, I caught sight of a couple of veiled faces with flashing bright eyes, and with pretty features just visible beneath the thin gauze. It was a passing vision, a glimpse of a moment, that left no impression that could be retained. It is an impression which one receives quite often in Cairo, if he chooses to look toward the harem carriages when making their afternoon promenade. The family of the Khedive are more fortunate than that of any other Mohammedan ruler, as it can ride in carriages and see far more of out-door life than the royal ladies of other Eastern cities.
The Khedive is no bigot, as many things indicate. I was told, though how truly I cannot say, that he is quite willing to allow his wives to appear unveiled after the European manner, and that probably they will do so before many years. I fancy that the prejudices of the women would be found stronger than his. Custom of long standing declares that no modest woman goes with her face uncovered. To ask a Mohammedan woman to unveil her face in public, would be as bad as to request a fashionable belle of New York to walk along Fifth Avenue in the costume of the Black Crook.
As we entered the parade ground of the barracks, we saw what appeared to be a couple of negro boys, playing at one side, and ascertained on inquiry, that they were the dwarfs or pigmies, for whom we were searching. We called them up and examined them closely, and they were certainly rare curiosities. There were only two, the taller said to be twenty and the shorter ten years old; we measured their height, and found them respectively forty-six and forty-three inches in their shoes; the younger, as he stood beside me, came not quite up to my hip. The eldest measured twenty-four inches around the chest and twenty-seven around the waist; their abdomens protruded considerably, and their backs were quite hollow.
This excessive protuberance of the abdomen is probably due to their vegetable diet, as the Khedive had told us that they lived, when at home, almost entirely on bananas and similar fruits. They stood quite erect,—I held a stick perpendicularly behind each of them, and found that when their heads touched it, their backs were more than two inches from it.
Their necks are short, their limbs well formed, though they are somewhat bowed in the legs, and their feet are long and flat. Their heads are a curious study. The complexion is not the deepest black of the negro of Nubia, but has rather a brownish hue; their hair is woolly, and their noses are flat, as though broken in with a hammer.
On looking down over the forehead of the elder, I could see the lips protruding beyond the nose; and it appeared too, that the nostrils extended further than did the centre of the organ of smell. The lips are full and rounded, but less thick than those of the negro generally. Their faces were bright, and had a pleasing appearance, though not indicating a high intellect.
Accompanying them was a “Dinka” negro, from the White Nile, and Mr. Taylor questioned him in Arabic about the pigmies and their country. He said these men came from a region in the interior, and that it took the caravans a year and a half to go there and return. Very little was known about the pigmies, beyond the fact that their country is quite extensive, and all the people are of diminutive size. The King was no larger than the taller of the two before us, and they are a warlike people, who fight very earnestly to prevent anybody visiting them. Their country is covered with jungle, and they conceal themselves in the thickets and send showers of arrows upon the invaders.
We endeavored to get them to talk, but they would not. One of the soldiers told them to speak, but the elder turned away rather sullenly, and would not utter a word. The soldiers said their language was quite unlike Arabic, Nubian, or any other that they ever heard, and further said the pair talked a great deal and very rapidly, when playing together. The name of the elder was Tubal, and that of the younger Karrell, and they call their country “Takka-lakka-leeka.”
Dr. Schweinfurth, the distinguished German explorer, learned something about these people; but it was the good fortune of Miani, an Italian, who had been a long time in Africa, to visit them and secure three specimens, two men and a woman, with whom he started for Europe. But he died while still in the wilds of Africa, and his papers and effects, including the three pigmies, were sent to Khartoum. There they were seized, to cover certain debts of Miani’s to merchants in Khartoum, and the pigmies, who were supposed to be slaves, were thrown into prison, where the woman died. They were not kept there long, as the facts about them were speedily made known, and soon after their release from prison they were sent to Cairo.
The Khedive showed a deep interest in the subject of the country of the dwarfs and its peculiar population, and quite probably the expeditions he has since sent into Central Africa were instructed to learn something more of them and to penetrate the remote district if possible.
During our conversation he called special attention to the fact, that a dwarf of any race has a head disproportionately large, and arms or legs disproportionately long or short. “But you will see,” said he, “that these little men are perfectly formed, like a well-shaped adult, with the exception of the abdomen, which is due to their vegetable diet, and that the elder has hands and fingers like those of a person who has reached his full size.” We looked for dwarfish peculiarities, but found none, and were quite of the opinion of others who have examined them, that they are a race of pigmies.
From the Kasr-el-Nil we drove through the new part of Cairo, along the broad macadamized streets, and after dropping the Consul-General at his residence, returned to our hotel with the reflection that we had passed an agreeable, interesting, and instructive forenoon.
I was particularly struck with the thorough information of the Khedive, and the interest he manifested concerning the pigmies, and about Darfoor and other subjects of our conversation, and asked Mr. Beardsley if he was equally well informed about matters in general.
“Equally so,” was the reply. “I don’t see how he manages to keep so well posted as he does; he has a remarkably retentive memory about everything, whether of business or any other matter. When I mention anything that we may have talked about weeks before, he remembers how it was left at that interview, and shows that it has by no means passed his mind.”
“He knows the course of European, Asiatic, and American politics; understands the religious questions in England and France, and any other important topic; has the run of affairs in Spain or other revolutionary countries, and is, in fact, up in all the news of the day. He must read a great deal when we think he is at rest, and he must remember all that he reads. He attends personally to all the affairs of the country, and though he leaves the details to his ministers, there is no question, except of a very trivial nature, that is not submitted to him for decision. Any matter concerning the government in any way, goes through the department to which it belongs, but must always go before the Khedive before it can be decided.”
The title, Khedive, is a Persian one, equivalent to “viceroy,” or, as some persons assert, to “king.” The ruler I have been describing is the first occupant of the Egyptian throne to wear the title. He is addressed in conversation as “Your Highness,” and is generally spoken of as “His Highness.” The ministers of state and other high dignitaries in Egypt are known as “Excellencies,” and to address one of them without the prefix, “Votre Excellence,” might give offence. They hold rank as pashas, and are nearly always gentlemen of liberal education and marked ability. “Pasha,” like “Khedive,” is of Persian origin; it is of great antiquity, and was originally used to designate the governor of a city or province. There are several grades of pashas, just as in our country there are several grades of generals. In some parts of the Orient the pasha, when he goes abroad, is preceded by an officer bearing a pole, from which is suspended the insignia of the great man’s rank.
If he is a first-class pasha, his rank is indicated by three horse tails, and he is called a pasha of three tails. Then there are pashas of two tails (much more common than cats with two tails), and there are also one-tailed pashas.
Soon after I left Egypt, one of the high officials was removed and furnished with an indefinite leave of absence. A friend, writing me from Cairo, stated the case thus:
“You may have heard of the change whereby the head of one of the departments has become a pasha of no tail whatever.” Which was not a bad way of putting it.
