Egypt of the Pharaohs and of the Khedivé

by F. Barham Zincke

The traveller in Egypt, who observes what is before him, and feels an interest in conversing with the natives, will have many opportunities for learning something about their superstitious or religious ideas—for, of course, much that with them is religion with us would be superstition—such as their belief in charms and amulets, and in the beneficial, or remedial efficacy of utterly irrelevant acts and prescriptions. This is a large—indeed, almost an inexhaustible—subject, because it pervades their whole lives, influencing almost everything they do, and every thought that passes through their minds. Whenever an Arab wishes to attain to, or to escape from, anything, his method of proceeding is not to use the means—or if he does, not to be content with them—which, in the nature of things, would lead to the desired result, but to depend either entirely, or, at all events, as a collateral means, on something else which can have no possible bearing on his object, but which, in consequence of the presence in his mind of certain ideas, and the absence of certain others, he thinks will have, or ought to have, some impossible effects.

Among Egyptians—it is so with all Orientals, there is an universal belief in the potency of the Evil Eye. If any one has looked upon an object with envious and covetous feelings, evil will ensue; not, however—and this is the heart and the peculiarity of the superstition—to the covetous or envious man, but to the coveted or envied object. I will attempt presently to explain this inversion of moral ideas. A mother in easy circumstances will keep her child in shabby clothes, and begrimed with dirt, in order that those who see it may not think it beautiful, and so cast an envious or covetous eye upon it. Some kenspeckle object is placed among the caparisons of a handsome horse or camel, that the eye of the passer-by may be attracted to it, and so withdrawn from the animal itself. The entire dress of a Nubian young lady consists of a fringe of shredded leather, two or three inches deep, worn round the loins. On the upper edge of this fringe two or three bunches of small white cowrie shells are fastened. The traveller might, at first,—and, probably, generally does,—suppose that this is merely a piece of coquetry, inspired by the desire to attract attention. The truth is the reverse. The white shells against the ebon skin are, it is true, intended to attract attention—not at all, however, in the way of coquetry, but from the opposite wish that the eye of the passer-by may be attracted to the shells, and thus that the wearer may herself escape the effects of the coveting, Evil Eye.

There is the same motive in the adoption by women of gold coins as ornaments for the head. Let the eye be attracted to that coveted and precious object, and diverted from the face. So, also, with the use of the veil; and so with many other preventive devices.

But as the source of the mischief is in the heart of the beholder, prevention may go further, and may dry up, if the effort be wisely made, the source of the evil at the fountain-head. This is to be done by so disciplining men’s minds, as that they shall habitually refrain from looking on anything with envious, or covetous thoughts. The method they have adopted for effecting this desirable change in the heart is to make it a point of religion, and of good manners, that a man shall so word his admiration as, at the same time, to express renunciation of any wish to possess the beautiful, or desirable object before him that belongs to another. He must not express his admiration of it simply. It would be reprehensible for him to say of a beautiful child, or dress, or jewel, or garden, or anything that was another’s, ‘How charming!—how beautiful!’ He must associate his admiration with the idea of God, and with the acknowledgment, that he submits to the behest of God that has given it to another. This he does by saying, ‘God’s will be done (Mashallah),’ or by some similar expression. If he should so far forget propriety as to express himself otherwise, the bystanders would recall him to good manners, and a proper sense of religion in the matter, by reproving him.

But supposing all these preventive measures of strategy, religion, and politeness have failed, and the Evil Eye, notwithstanding, must needs alight on some object, what is to be done then? The only resource is in the recognized counter-agents. These are of two kinds—those which have a prophylactic, and those which have a remedial efficacy. To the first belong some selected texts of the Koran, or the whole of the sacred volume, which must be enclosed in a suitable receptacle, and hung about the neck of the person to be protected. A little piece of alum has the same effect. Some have recourse to the ninety-nine titles of the Deity; others prefer the titles, equal in number, of the Prophet. These may be kept in the house, as well as about the person. Lane has an interesting chapter on Arab superstitions, from which we may gather that the names of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus, and of their dog, and the names of the few paltry articles of furniture left by the Prophet, have great potency.

But supposing these, and other such prophylactics have failed, as must sometimes happen, in averting the Evil Eye, nothing remains then but the use of antidotes. One that commends itself to general adoption is, to prick a piece of paper with a pin, to represent the eye of the envious man, and then to burn it. Another that is equally efficacious is, to burn a compound of several pinches of salt stained with different colours, and mixed with storax, wormwood, and other matters. But I need not pursue this part of a single subject any farther: what has been said will be enough to show what are their ideas as to the ways in which the Evil Eye is to be combated.

And now for the explanation I would venture to offer of what is to us the strangest part of the matter, that such a belief as this of the Evil Eye should have had any existence at all, because it involves the immoral idea that all the suffering falls on the innocent victim, and that there is no retribution for the guilty cause of the mischief. This I am disposed to think has been brought about by the facts and experience of life in the East. There the Evil Eye has always had a very real, and fearful significance; and people have done very wisely in endeavouring to guard against it. It never would have done in that part of the world, nor would it do at this day in Cairo, or anywhere else, even down to the most secluded village, for one to flaunt before the world what others might covet, or envy him the possession of. The simple plan there has ever been, that those should take who have the power, and that those only should keep who are not known to possess. A man who had a beautiful wife, or child, or costly jewel, or a showy horse, or camel, or anything good, if it were observed, and known, would at any time, in the East, have been pretty sure to lose it, and perhaps with it his own life into the bargain. This of course has been a master-fact in forming the manners and customs of the people. Hence their ideas about the Evil Eye. What befel Uriah and Naboth, has befallen many everywhere. Hence the wisdom of keeping good things out of sight, and of diverting attention from them. Hence the belief that the evil is for the innocent possessor, and not for the wicked envier, or coveter. The methods adopted for obviating its effects are, of course, merely the offspring of fear acting on ignorance.

I need not give any further illustrations of this condition of the Arab mind. A general statement will now be sufficient. Every evil that flesh is heir to, every ailment, every as yet unsatisfied yearning, every loss, every suffering, has its appropriate treatment, all being of the same character as that which prescribes, for some moral obliquity in A’s mind, that B should burn a piece of alum, or of storax, purchased on a particular day. Some of these practices are laughable, some disgusting. Some that are of the latter class recall Herodotus’s story of the means to which King Phero, in the days of old Egypt, had recourse for the recovery of his sight.

It is cheap to laugh at these ideas and practices, but we have ourselves passed, in this matter, through the same stage. We had our day of such remedies, when we attempted to cure diseases, and to dispel evil influences with charms and amulets; and to ensure success by having recourse to the luck that was supposed to be in days, and things, and names, and places. The memory of all this has not, even yet, completely vanished from amongst us. The echo of it may still at times be heard. The history of all people shows that these things contain the germ of the empirical art of medicine. The first step in real progress is the abandonment of the idea that disease is the irreversible decree of heaven, or of fate. The second stage, that in which the Orientals now are, is the metaphysical treatment of disease—that which assumes that each disease is to be met by something which, from some fancied analogy, or fitness, or antagonism, it is supposed ought to counteract it. This is futile in itself, but not in its ulterior consequences, for it issues eventually in the discovery of the true remedies. In time, if circumstances favour, the subject comes to be treated scientifically. Every ailment is then deliberately examined, with the view of discovering in what it actually consists; and remedies are applied which, in accordance with the known laws and properties of things, it is reasonably hoped will check its growth or remove it.

It is curious to observe, while we are on this subject, that homœopathy is only a reversion to old ways of thinking. Its foundation is a metaphysical dictum that like cures like. And its practice that these, or some other, globules will in each case produce artificially the desired disease, is as contrary to the evidence of the senses, and the known properties of the globules, as anything to be found in Arab therapeutics.