After some little prelude, the musicians commenced. The instruments were a zumarra, or reed flute, a dulcimer, the wires of which were struck with a wooden plectrum, held between the first and middle fingers, and a tambourine, two of the boys officiating only as singers. The airs were Arabic and Persian, and had the character of improvisations, compared with the classic music of Europe. The rhythm was perfect, and the parts sustained by the different instruments arranged with considerable skill. The Egyptian officers were greatly moved by the melodies, which, in their wild, passionate, barbaric cadences, had a singular charm for my ear. The songs were principally of love, but of a higher character than the common songs of the people. The Pasha translated a brace for us. One related to the loves of a boy and maiden, the former of whom was humble, the latter the daughter of a Bey. They saw and loved each other, but the difference in their stations prevented the fulfilment of their hopes. One day, as the girl was seated at her window, a funeral passed through the street below. She asked the name of the dead person, and they answered “Leyl,” the name of her beloved, whom the violence of his passion had deprived of life. Her lamentations formed the theme of a separate song, in which the name of Leyl was repeated in one long, continued outcry of grief and love. The second song was of a widow who had many wooers, by whom she was so beset, that she finally appointed a day to give them her decision. The same day her son died, yet, because she had given her word, she mastered her grief by a heroic resolution, arrayed herself in her finest garments, received her suitors, and sang to her lute the song which would best entertain them. At the close of the festival she announced her loss in a song, and concluded by refusing all their offers.
At last, dinner was announced. The Pasha led the way into the dining-room, stopping in an ante-chamber, where a group of slaves were ready with pitchers, ewers and napkins, and we performed the customary washing of hands. The Pasha then took his seat at the round table, and pointed out his place to each guest. Dr. Knoblecher and myself sat on his right, Dr. Reitz and Rufaā Bey on his left, and Ali Bey Khasib opposite. There were no plates, but each of us had a silver knife, spoon and fork, and the arrangement was so far in Frank style that we sat upon chairs instead of the floor. The only ceremony observed was, that the Pasha first tasted each dish as it was brought upon the table, after which the rest of us followed. We all ate soup from the same tureen, and buried our several right hands to the knuckles in the fat flesh of the sheep which was afterwards set before us. Claret was poured out for the Franks and Rufaā Bey (whose Moslem principles had been damaged by ten years residence in Paris), the Pasha and Ali Bey alone abstaining. There were twenty courses in all and the cookery was excellent Besides the delicate Turkish compounds of meat and vegetables, delicious fish from the White Nile and fruits from the Pasha’s garden, we had blanc mange and several varieties of French patisserie. At the close of the repast, a glass bowl containing a cool drink made from dried figs, quinces and apricots, was placed upon the table. The best possible humor prevailed, and I enjoyed the dinner exceedingly, the more so because I had not expected to find such a high degree of civilization in Soudân.
We had afterwards coffee and pipes in the reception-room, and about ten in the evening took leave of the Pasha and walked home, preceded by attendants carrying large glass lanterns. After accompanying Dr. Knoblecher to the gate of the Mission, Ali Bey Khasib took my hand, Rufaā Bey that of the Consul, and we walked to the residence of the Bey, who detained us an hour by the narration of the injuries and indignities which had been inflicted upon him by order of Abbas Pasha. The latter, on coming into power, took especial care to remove all those officers who had been favorites of Mohammed Ali. Many of them were men of high attainments and pure character, who had taken an active part in carrying out the old Pasha’s measures of reform. Among them was Rufaā Bey, who, with several of his associates, was sent to Khartoum, ostensibly for the purpose of founding a College there, but in reality as a banishment from Egypt. He had been there a year and a half at the time of my visit, yet no order had been received from Cairo relative to the College. This state of inaction and uncertainty, combined with the effect of the climate, had already terminated the lives of two of his fellow professors, and it was no doubt the design of Abbas Pasha to relieve himself of all of them by the same means. When I heard this story, the truth of which Dr. Reitz confirmed, I could readily account for the bitterness of the curses which the venerable old Bey heaped upon the head of his tyrannical ruler.
The Frank population of Khartoum was not large, consisting, besides Dr. Reitz and the priests of the Catholic Mission, of Dr. Péney, a French physician, Dr. Vierthaler, a German, and an Italian apothecary, the two former of whom were in the Egyptian service. Dr. Péney had been ten years in Soudân, and knew the whole country, from the mountains of Fazogl to the plains of Takka, on the Atbara River, and the Shangalla forests on the Abyssinian frontier. He was an exceedingly intelligent and courteous person, and gave me much interesting information, concerning the regions he had visited and the habits of the different tribes of Soudân. I had afterwards personal opportunity of verifying the correctness of many of his statements. There were a few Coptic merchants in the place, and on the second day after my arrival I had an opportunity of witnessing the New-Year ceremonies of their Church, which, like the Greek, still retains the old style. The service, which was very similar to a Catholic mass, was chanted in musical Arabic, and at its close we were presented with small cakes of unleavened flour, stamped with a cross. At the conclusion of the ceremonies coffee was given to us in an outer court, with the cordial “Haneean!” (a wish equivalent to the Latin prosit, or “may it benefit you!”)—to which we replied: “Allah Haneek!” (may God give you benefit!)
Dr. Reitz took me one day to visit the celebrated Sitteh (Lady) Nasra, the daughter of the last King of Sennaar and brother of the present Shekh of that province. She is a woman of almost masculine talent and energy, and may be said to govern Sennaar at present. All the Arab shekhs, as well as the population at large, have the greatest respect for her, and invariably ask her advice, in any crisis of affairs. Her brother, Idris Wed Adlan, notwithstanding his nominal subjection to Egypt, still possesses absolute sway over several hundred villages, and is called King of Kulle. The Lady Nasra retains the title of Sultana, on account of her descent from the ancient royal house of Sennaar. She has a palace at Soriba, on the Blue Nile, which, according to Lepsius, exhibits a degree of wealth and state very rare in Soudân. She was then in Khartoum on a visit, with her husband, Mohammed Defalleh, the son of a former Vizier of her father, King Adlan.
We found the Lady Nasra at home, seated on a carpet in her audience-hall, her husband and Shekh Abd-el-Kader—the Shekh of Khartoum, who married her daughter by a former husband—occupying an adjacent carpet. She gave the Consul her hand, saluted me, as a stranger, with an inclination of her head, and we seated ourselves on the floor opposite to her. She was about forty-five years old, but appeared younger, and still retained the traces of her former beauty. Her skin was a pale bronze color, her eyes large and expressive, and her face remarkable for its intelligence and energy. All her motions were graceful and dignified, and under more favorable circumstances she might have become a sort of Ethiopian Zenobia. She wore a single robe of very fine white muslin, which she sometimes folded so as nearly to conceal her features, and sometimes allowed to fall to her waist, revealing the somewhat over-ripe charms of her bosom. A heavy ring of the native gold of Kasan hung from her nose, and others adorned her fingers. Dr. Reitz explained to her that I was not a Frank, but came from a great country on the other side of the world. She spoke of the visit of Dr. Lepsius, at Soriba, and said that he was the only far-travelled stranger she had seen, except myself. I took occasion to say that I had frequently heard of her in my native land; that her name was well-known all over the world; and that the principal reason of my visit to Soudân, was the hope of seeing her. She was not in the least flattered by these exaggerated compliments, but received them as quietly as if they were her right. She was a born queen, and I doubt whether any thing upon the earth would have been able to shake her royal indifference.
Her slaves were all girls of twelve to fourteen years of age, naked except the ràhad, or girdle of leathern fringe about the loins. They had evidently been chosen for their beauty, and two of them, although as black as cast-iron statues, were incomparable for the symmetry of their forms and the grace of their movements. They brought us pipes and coffee, and when not employed, stood in a row at the bottom of the room, with their hands folded upon their breasts. Dinner was just ready, and we were invited to partake of it. The Sultana had already dined in solitary state, so her husband, Shekh Abd-el-Kader, the Consul and I, seated ourselves cross-legged on the floor, around the huge bowl containing an entire sheep stuffed with rice. We buried our fingers in the hot and smoking flesh and picked the choicest pieces from the ribs and flank, occasionally taking a handful of rice from the interior. The only additional dish was a basket of raw onions and radishes. Before each of us stood a slave with a napkin and a large glass of om bilbil—the “mother of nightingales.” After drinking we returned the glass to the slave’s hand, she standing all the while immovable as a statue. After we had eaten our fill of roast mutton and raw onions, they brought a dish of prepared dourra, called abri, which strongly resembles the pinole of Mexico. The grain is pounded very fine, sifted, mixed with a little sugar and water, and made into thin, dry leaves, as white and delicate as cambric. It is considered very nourishing, especially on a journey, for which purpose it is used by the rich shekhs of Soudân.
As we took our leave, the Sultana, observing that our cane batons, which we had just purchased in the bazaar, were of very indifferent quality, ordered two others to be brought, of a fine yellow wood, resembling box, which is found in the mountains on the Abyssinian frontier, and gave them to us.