The Gizeh Museum is vast; days are required to see all its treasures. Among the best of these are two colored statues, the size of life, representing Prince Rahotep and his wife; these were discovered in 1870 in a tomb near Meydoom. Their rock-crystal eyes are so bright that the Arabs employed in the excavation fled in terror when they came upon the long-hidden chamber. They said that two afreets were sitting there, ready to spring out and devour all intruders. Railed in from his admirers is the intelligent, well-fed, highly popular wooden man, whose life-like expression raises a smile upon the faces of all who approach him. This figure is not in the least like the Egyptian statues of conventional type, with unnaturally placed eyes. As regards the head, it might be the likeness of a Berlin merchant of to-day, or it might be a successful American bank president after a series of dinners at Delmonico's. Yet, strange to say, this, and the wonderful diorite statue of Chafra, are the oldest sculptured figures in the world.
One is tempted to describe some of the other treasures of this precious and unrivalled collection, as well as to note in detail the odd contrasts between Ismail's gayly flowered walls and the solemn antiquities ranged below them. "But here is no space," as Lady Mary Wortley Montagu would have expressed it. And one of the curious facts concerning description is that those who have with their own eyes seen the statue, for instance, which is the subject of a writer's pen (and it is the same with regard to a landscape, or a country, or whatever you please)—such persons sometimes like to read an account of it, though the words are not needed to bring up the true image of the thing delineated, whereas those who have never seen the statue—that is, the vast majority—are, as a general rule, not in the least interested in any description of it, long or short, and, indeed, consider all such descriptions a bore.
At present the one fault of Gizeh is the absence of a catalogue. But catalogues are a mysterious subject, comprehended only by the elect.
One day when I was passing the hot hours in the shaded rooms of the museum, surrounded by seated granite figures with their hands on their knees (the coolest companions I know), I heard chattering and laughter. These are unusual sounds in those echoing halls, where unconsciously everybody whispers, partly because of the echo, and partly also, I think, on account of the mystic mummy cases which stand on end and look at one so queerly with their oblique eyes. Presently there came into view ten or twelve Cairo ladies, followed by eunuchs, and preceded by a guide. The eunuchs were (as eunuchs generally are) hideous, though they represented all ages, from a tall lank boy of seventeen to a withered old creature well beyond sixty. The Cairo eunuchs are negroes; one distinguishes them always by the extreme care with which they are dressed. They wear coats and trousers of black broadcloth made in the latest European style, with patent-leather shoes, and they are decorated with gold chains, seal rings, and scarf-pins; they have one merit as regards their appearance—I know of but one—they do look clean. The ladies were taking their ease; the muffling black silk outer cloaks, which all Egyptian women of the upper class wear when they leave the house, had been thrown aside; the white face veils had been loosened so that they dropped below the chin. It was the hareem of the Minister for Foreign Affairs; their carriages were waiting below. The most modest of men—a missionary, for instance, or an entomologist—would, I suppose, have put them to flight; but as the tourist season was over, and as it was luncheon-time for Europeans, no one appeared but myself, and the ladies strayed hither and thither as they chose, occasionally stopping to hear a few words of the explanations which the guide (a woman also) was vainly trying to give before each important statue. With one exception, these Cairo dames were, to say the least, extremely plump; their bare hands were deeply dimpled, their cheeks round. They all had the same very white complexion without rose tints; their features were fairly good, though rather thick; the eyes in each case were beautiful—large, dark, lustrous, with sweeping lashes. Their figures, under their loose garments, looked like feather pillows. They were awkward in bearing and gait, but this might have been owing to the fact that their small plump feet (in white open-work cotton stockings) were squeezed into very tight French slippers with abnormally high heels, upon which it must have been difficult to balance so many dimples. The one exception to the rule of billowy beauty was a slender, even meagrely formed girl, who in America would pass perhaps for seventeen; probably she was three years younger. Her thin, dark, restless face, with its beautiful inquiring eyes, was several times close beside mine as we both inspected the golden bracelets and ear-rings, the necklaces and fan, of Queen Ahhotpu, our sister in vanity of three thousand five hundred years ago. I looked more at her than I did at the jewels, and she returned my gaze; we might have had a conversation. What would I not have given to have been able to talk with her in her own tongue! After a while they all assembled in what is called the winter garden, an up-stairs apartment, where grass grows over the floor in formal little plots. Chairs were brought, and they seated themselves amid this aerial verdure to partake of sherbet, which the youngest eunuch handed about with a business-like air. While they were still here, much relaxed as regards attire and attitude, my attention was attracted by the rush through the outer room (where I myself was seated) of the four older eunuchs. They had been idling about; they had even gone down the stairs, leaving to the youngest of their number the task of serving the sherbet; but now they all appeared again, and the swiftness with which they crossed the outer room and dashed into the winter-garden created a breeze. They called to their charges as they came, and there was a general smoothing down of draperies. The eunuchs, however, stood upon no ceremony; they themselves attired the ladies in the muffling cloaks, and refastened their veils securely, as a nurse dresses children, and with quite as much authority. I noticed that the handsomer faces showed no especial haste to disappear from view; but there was no real resistance; there was only a good deal of laughter.
I dare say that there was more laughter still (under the veils) when the cause of all this haste appeared, coming slowly up the stairs. It was a small man of sixty-five or seventy, one of my own countrymen, attired in a linen duster and a travel-worn high hat; his silver-haired head was bent over his guide-book, and he wore blue spectacles. I don't think he saw anything but blue antiquities, safely made of stone.
Hareem carriages (that is, ladies' carriages) in Cairo are large, heavily built broughams. The occupants wear thin white muslin or white tulle veils tied across the face under the eyes, with an upper band of the same material across the forehead; but these veils do not in reality hide the features much more closely than do the dotted black or white lace veils worn by Europeans. The muffling outer draperies, however, completely conceal the figure, and this makes the marked difference between them and their English, French, and American sisters in the other carriages near at hand. On the box of the brougham, with the coachman, the eunuch takes his place. To go out without a eunuch would be a humiliation for a Cairo wife; to her view, it would seem to say that she is not sufficiently attractive to require a guardian. The hareem carriage of a man of importance has not only its eunuch, but also its sais, or running footman; often two of them. These winged creatures precede the carriage; no matter how rapid the pace of the horses, they are always in advance, carrying, lightly poised in one hand, high in the air, a long lance-like wand. Their gait is the most beautiful motion I have ever seen. The Mercury of John of Bologna; the younger gods of Olympus—will these do for comparisons? One calls the sais winged not only because of his speed, but also on account of his large white sleeves (in English, angel sleeves), which, though lightly caught together behind, float out on each side as he runs, like actual wings. His costume is rich—a short velvet jacket thickly embroidered with gold; a red cap with long silken tassel; full white trousers which end at the knee, leaving the legs and feet bare; and a brilliant scarf encircling the small waist. These men are Nubians, and are admirably formed; often they are very handsome. Naturally one never sees an old one, and it is said that they die young. Their original office was to clear a passage for the carriage through the narrow, crowded streets; now that the streets are broader, they are not so frequently seen, though Egyptians of rank still employ them, not only for their hareem carriages, but for their own. They are occasionally seen, also, before the victoria or the landau of European residents; but in this case their Oriental dress accords ill with the stiff, tight Parisian costumes behind them. Now and then one sees them perched on the back seat of an English dog-cart, and here they look well; they always sit sidewise, with one hand on the back of the seat, as though ready at a moment's notice to spring out and begin flying again.
If the figures of the Cairo ladies are always well muffled, one has at least abundant opportunity to admire the grace and strength of the women of the working classes. When young they have a noble bearing. Their usual dress is a long gown of very dark blue cotton, a black head veil, and a thick black face veil that is kept in its place below the eyes by a gilded ornament which looks like an empty spool. Often their beautifully shaped slender feet are bare; but even the poorest are decked with anklets, bracelets, and necklaces of beads, imitation silver or brass. The men of the working classes wear blue gowns also, but the blue is of a much lighter hue; many of them, especially the farmers and farm laborers (called fellaheen), have wonderfully straight flat backs and broad, strong shoulders. Europeans, when walking, appear at a great disadvantage beside these loosely robed people; all their movements seem cramped when compared with the free, effortless step of the Arab beside them.