It was half-past nine o'clock, on the evening of the 4th of October, 1839, that we arrived at the port of Boulak. We expected to find some person in waiting to give us the pass-word, and thus enable us to get into Cairo, the gates of the city being closed at nine o'clock. Depending upon the attendance of the hotel-keeper at Cairo, who had been apprised of our approach, we had not put the janissary on shore, as we ought to have done, at the British Consul's country-house, who would have furnished us with a talisman to pass the gates. We sent Mohammed and the janissary on shore, to see what could be done. Including the voyage up the canal, Miss E. and myself had passed (we could not say slept) three nights on board a boat, the first without an attempt at repose, the two latter lying down in our dressing-gowns upon thin mattresses, stretched upon hard boards; we, therefore, could not very easily relinquish the endeavour to procure a bed during the time which would intervene between the period (an hour before day-light) in which the gates of the city would be open.
I had a letter to the British Consul, which I gave Mohammed, telling him to try the effect of bribery upon the guardians of the city. During his absence, the Arab captain, feeling that we were left under his protection, came and seated himself beside us, outside the cabin-door. We conversed together without understanding each other's language; he had nothing to offer us except snuff, of which we each took a pinch, giving him in return, as he refused wine, a pomegranate, to which I added a five-franc piece from the remains of my French money. If any thing had been wanting to establish a good understanding between us, this would have accomplished it. The rais, or captain, took my hand in his, and pressed his own to his lips, in token of gratitude; and when upon the return of Mohammed he perceived that I was rather nervous at the idea of crossing the plank from the boat to the shore, he plunged at once into the water to assist me over it. The janissary brought word that there was a moolid, or religious fair, held at the opposite end of the city, and that if we would make a circuit of three miles round the walls, we might enter Cairo that night, as the gate was left open for the convenience of the people in the neighbourhood. Mohammed had aroused a donkey-man of his acquaintance, who was in attendance, with a youth his son, and two donkeys. To the boy was entrusted the care of the lanthorn, without which no person is allowed to traverse the streets after nightfall, and mounting, we set forward.
The streets of Boulak are narrow, but the houses appear to be lofty and substantially built. We were challenged by the soldiers at the gates, but allowed to pass without farther inquiry. The ride round the walls at night was dreary enough, over broken ground, occupied by bandogs barking at us as we passed. We met occasionally groups of people coming from the fair, who gave us the welcome intelligence that the gates were still open, and, pushing on, we came at length to the entrance, an archway of some magnitude. Upon turning an angle of this wall, we suddenly emerged upon a very singular scene. The tomb of the saint, in whose honour the moolid was held, was surrounded by devotees, engaged in the performance of some religious rite. Around, and in front, throughout the neighbouring streets, gleamed a strong illumination, produced by an assemblage of lamps and lanthorns of various kinds. Some of the shops boasted handsome cut-glass chandeliers, or Argand lamps, evidently of European manufacture; others were content with a circular frame, perforated with holes, in which all sorts of glass vessels, wine-glasses, tumblers, mustard-pots, &c., were placed, filled with oil, and having several wicks.
The articles displayed for sale at the fair were, as far as we could judge from the hasty glances we cast as we passed along, good of their kind, and of some value; the confectioners' shops made a gay appearance with their variously-coloured sweetmeats, piled up in tempting heaps, and we saw enough of embroidery and gold to form a very favourable idea of the taste and splendour of the native dress.
We were, of course, objects of great surprise and curiosity; the sudden appearance of two European ladies, the only women present, at eleven o'clock at night, riding on donkeys through the fair, could not fail to create a sensation. Our boy with the lanthorn walked first, followed by the janissary, who, flourishing his silver stick, made room for us through the crowd. Had we not been accompanied by this respectable official, we should scarcely have dared to venture in such a place, and at such a period. Mohammed and the donkey-man attended at the side of Miss E. and myself, and though some of the people could not help laughing at the oddity of our appearance, we met with no sort of insult or hinderance, but made our way through without the slightest difficulty, much more easily, in fact, than two Arabs in their native costume, even if attended by a policeman, would have traversed a fair in England.
The scene was altogether very singular, and we thought ourselves fortunate in having had an opportunity of witnessing a native fair under such novel circumstances. We could scarcely believe that we were in a Mohammedan city, noted for its intolerance, and could not help feeling grateful to the reigning power which had produced so striking a change in the manners and conduct of the people. Upon leaving the fair, we turned into dark streets, dimly illumined by the light of the lanthorn we carried; occasionally, but very seldom, we met some grave personage, preceded also by a lanthorn, who looked with great astonishment at our party as we passed. At length we came to the door of our hotel, and having knocked loudly, we were admitted into the court-yard, when, dismounting, we proceeded up a flight of stone steps to a verandah, which led into some very good-sized apartments. The principal one, a large dining-room, was furnished at the upper end in the Egyptian fashion, with divans all round; it was, however, also well supplied with European chairs and tables, and in a few minutes cold turkey and ham, and other good things, appeared upon the board.
Being the first arrivals from the steamer, we had to answer numerous questions before we could retire to bed. Upon asking to be conducted to our chamber, we were shown up another flight of stone stairs, leading to a second and much larger verandah, which was screened off in departments serving as ante-chambers to the bed-rooms. There was sufficient space on the terraces of this floor, for the descent of a few steps led to another platform, to afford a walk of some extent, but of this we were not aware until the morning. We found a very comfortable two-bedded room, supplied with glass windows, and everything belonging to it in excellent repair, and apparently free from vermin; most thankfully did we lie down to enjoy the repose which our late exertions had rendered so needful.
Our trusty Mohammed had engaged donkeys for us the next day, and promised to take us to every place worth seeing in the city. We were strongly tempted to visit the Pyramids, but were deterred by the danger of losing the steamer at Suez, and by the difficulties of the undertaking. We were told that the Nile was not sufficiently flooded to admit of our approach in a boat, and that we should be up to the donkey's knees in mud if we attempted to go upon the backs of those animals. We, therefore, reluctantly relinquished the idea, and contented ourselves with what we could see of Cairo.
Our first visit was directed to the Citadel, a place which, I do not scruple to say, was to me quite as interesting as any of the monuments of ancient art that Egypt contains. The remains of ages long past, and whose history is involved in unfathomable obscurity, excite our wonder and admiration, and fill us with an almost painful curiosity to draw aside the veil which time has thrown around them, and to learn secrets that all the learning of man has hitherto been unable to unfold. The citadel of Cairo, on the contrary, has been the theatre of comparatively recent events; it is filled with recollections of the hero whose exploits, narrated by the most eloquent pens, have charmed us in our childhood, and still continue to excite interest in our breasts—the Sultan Saladin. Here are the remains of a palace which he once inhabited, and here is a well which bears his name. Who could sit under the broken pillars of that roofless palace, or drink the water from the deep recesses of that well, without allowing their thoughts to wander back to the days of the Crusades, those chivalric times, in which love, and war, and religion, swayed the hearts and the actions of men; when all that was honoured and coveted was to be found in a soldier of the cross, and when half-frantic enthusiasts, pursuing the vainest of hopes, the recovery of the Holy Land, brought away with them what they did not go to seek, the arts, and learning, and science of the East! The janissary, who was with us, pointed out the direction in which Damietta now stands, and I was instantly filled with a desire to see Damietta, of which I had heard and read so much.
The most exciting romance of Oriental history is to be found amid the deserts that surround Egypt; and even if the most spirit-stirring tale of all, the Talisman, had not been written, the scenes in which our own lion-hearted Richard figured, and which witnessed the exploits of the Templars and the knights of St. John of Jerusalem, could not fail to create the highest degree of pleasurable feeling in minds capable of enjoying such brilliant reveries of the past. The Citadel of Cairo is also fraught with the recollections of an event which startled all Europe within the memory of many of the present generation—the massacre of the Mamelukes. We were shown the broken cleft in the wall from which the only one of the devoted men who escaped urged his gallant horse; it was, indeed, a fearful leap, and we gazed upon, the spot and thought of the carnage of that dreadful hour with an involuntary shudder.