TRAVELS
IN
ETHIOPIA.
COTTAGES OF BERBER.
CHAPTER I.
INTENDED RETURN TO CAIRO. — ARRIVAL OF ARTIST. — DETERMINATION TO PENETRATE TO MEROE. — MOTIVES. — ADVANTAGES TO BE DERIVED FROM THE DISCOVERIES OF YOUNG, WILKINSON, CHAMPOLLION, AND ROSELLINI. — DEPARTURE FROM THEBES. — TURKISH MODE OF FASTING. — ARRIVAL AT ASSUAN. — HINTS TO TRAVELLERS ON TURKISH ETIQUETTE. — NAZR OF BERBER. — UNPROMISING ACCOUNTS OF THE DESERT. — DETENTION FOR WANT OF CAMELS. — SHEAKH OF THE ABABDE TRIBE. — RUINS OF ELEPHANTINE AND ASSUAN. — BOSNIAN SOLDIERS. — WATER SKINS DEFECTIVE. — ARRIVAL OF THE CAMELS. — COMMENCEMENT OF THE JOURNEY. — NUBIAN POVERTY. — CARAVAN FROM KHARTOUN. — CULTIVATION IN LOWER NUBIA. — SINGULAR AND PICTURESQUE SCENERY. — NUBIAN PEASANTRY AND THEIR SLAVES. — TURKISH HUMANITY. — ROMAN ENCLOSURE AT DACKER. — PROVISIONS IN NUBIA. — SIMILARITY OF A MODERN AND ANCIENT CUSTOM. — NUBIANS, THEIR PREJUDICES, POVERTY, FOOD, WANT OF RELIGION, AND DRUNKENNESS — THEIR DOMESTIC COMFORT, AND COMPARATIVE FREEDOM. — WADY EL ARAB. — ARRIVAL AT KOROSKO. — PREPARATIONS FOR CROSSING THE GREAT NUBIAN DESERT. — THE GOVERNOR OF KOROSKO. — DRUNKEN COPTIC SECRETARY.
Feb. 1. 1833. Having spent twelve months in the valley of the Nile, I had designed to leave Thebes this week, and return to Cairo. To this long period had an intended stay of a few weeks been protracted, in consequence of my daily increasing devotion to the fascinating but laborious study of Egyptian antiquities. I cannot, however, escape some uncomfortable feelings when I contrast the prospect now before me, of privation and dreariness in a long journey through the desert, with the hopes I had indulged of returning now to Europe, to the enjoyments of social and domestic intercourse, and the refinements and comforts of civilised life. My boat was ready, and all preparations made for my voyage down the Nile, when its direction was changed by the arrival of Signor Bandoni, a skilful Italian artist, whom I had long anxiously expected. I then immediately determined to proceed with my projected journey to the antiquities of Meroe, and thus complete my investigation of the architectural wonders of the Nile. Wearied, however, with my previous labours at Thebes, and in the Oasis Magna, I had felt reluctant to make this arduous attempt without the assistance of an artist. Had I now lacked courage, the redoubtable appearance of my Lucchese ally would have inspired me with resolution to encounter the wildest Bishareen of the Nubian desert, or the hungriest lion of Ethiopia. The Signor brings with him his bosom companion, a double-barrelled Spanish escopette, of awe-inspiring calibre, the destructive powers of which, he assures me, have been frequently proved upon the turtle doves in the palm groves of the Nile: he animates me also with the assurance, that “non ha niente paura;” nor, since his landing in these barbarous regions, has he yet known bodily fear, except once, and that by mistake, when scared by the lion-like roar of a buffalo, near the base of Pompey’s Pillar. The valley of the Nile, as far as Wady Halfah, has been described by many. Only six or seven Europeans have penetrated beyond that cataract; and, unfortunately, all even of those were not sufficiently acquainted with Egyptian antiquities, and competent, as artists, to give a satisfactory description and correct delineations of the interesting remains which still exist in those remote regions.[2] In using the term acquainted, I do not mean to state that any person has penetrated very deeply into the mysteries of Egyptian lore, much less can I pretend to have lifted “the veil of Isis which no mortal has yet raised;” but even a slight knowledge of the recent discoveries in hieroglyphics gives to the traveller of the present day an advantage over, perhaps, even the most learned travellers who visited this country before the discoveries of Young, Wilkinson, Champollion, and Rosellini. Egypt is no longer a field for speculative ingenuity and brilliant imagination. The daylight has appeared, and the efforts of talent and perseverance have cleared away many of the difficulties which obstructed the first labourers in this rich mine of antiquarian research. Enough is already known of hieroglyphics to make the subject be duly appreciated by literary men, and we may confidently expect important information from that source. The drawings which have hitherto been made in Upper Nubia are considered to be very inaccurate; much has been left undone, and the hieroglyphics have been but partially and imperfectly copied; while many of the inscriptions are totally unknown. Aware of these circumstances, and also that not a drawing or description of the antiquities of Meroe has yet been published in England, and hoping that my labours may be of some service to those interested in these subjects, I leave Thebes to encounter again the fatigues and perils of the desert; but Meroe is before me, the probable birth-place of the arts and sciences.
I bade adieu, last night, to my kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. Hay, whose society, attention, and valuable services, have been an indescribable resource to me during my long residence at Thebes. I felt how gratifying it is, in setting out on a journey of this description, to have the warm wishes of others that it may be successful. “Bring as many drawings as you can,” was the good advice given to me, and which I intend to follow.
I cannot perform impossibilities, by bringing the antiquities themselves; but I trust and hope, with the assistance of my camera lucida, my long experience in drawing that peculiar style of architecture and sculpture, and last, though not least, the valuable aid of my excellent Italian artist, Signor B., I shall be able to bring back drawings and plans which shall have the merit and value of strict accuracy. But I must disclaim, in the outset, any idea of adding much to the geographical knowledge of the interior of Africa. The object of my journey is Meroe, and to elucidate the existing vestiges of the ancient grandeur of the kingdom of Ethiopia. The wind this day has been favourable; but there was so little of it, that our progress has not been great.
Feb. 2. We arrived at Esneh this morning at eight, and remained until ten. I wished to see the Governor, to procure from him a letter to the Nazr of Assuan, requesting him to assist me in procuring camels; but I was told that he was asleep, and would not be visible till late in the afternoon. It is now the month of Ramadan, during which the law forbids them to eat or drink before sunset; however, the Turkish grandees avoid this privation by turning night into day, sleeping the greater part of the latter, and devoting the former to business and their pleasures. This manner of keeping their fast is somewhat similar to the devotee Peter Pindar describes, who, when sentenced to perform a pilgrimage with peas in his shoes, wisely took the liberty to boil his peas. The wind being favourable, I could not wait the awakening of the Mahmoor.
Assuan.—Feb. 5. In our journey of this and the two preceding days, we have only had six to seven hours of wind; however, this afternoon, we arrived at Assuan, and I immediately waited on the Nazr to procure camels. On entering a Turkish divan, the traveller is merely required to make a grave bow, placing his right hand to his left breast, and to seat himself on the divan in the Turkish style, which, for the information of those readers who have not been in the country, I should say is exactly that easy position, which it seems in Europe tailors only are privileged to assume. When seated, he usually salutes the great man again in the same manner as before; but if the latter be of very high rank, it is better to show respect by placing the right hand, first, to the lips, and then, above the forehead. A few complimentary speeches are now exchanged; such as “How do you do?” “What a tall man you are!” “What a fine beard!” “You are like one of us!” Welcome and thanks. Coffee is then presented to the traveller. The Pasha gives pipes to noblemen at his own divan only; but every English gentleman has a right to expect one, or to smoke his own at the divan of any of his subordinate officers. The Turk, if he is only a Katshef or Nazr, ought to make a kind of half rise from his seat when the traveller enters; but it is very seldom that his pride and desire of appearing a great man in his little court permits him to show this courtesy. All the Turks possess, or have the power of assuming, an apparently natural dignity of manner. The liberated slave, raised suddenly to rank and authority, seems always at his ease, as if born to the station that he fills. Education, that is, the having learned with difficulty to read and write a letter of four or five lines, makes no distinction, being an attainment in which those of the highest rank are sometimes deficient. I presented to the Nazr, a common-looking fellow, the Pasha’s firman, which, as usual, he kissed and placed to his forehead. As soon as his Coptic writer had read it to him, he ordered me a pipe, an attention previously omitted, and in the mean time offered me his own; but my servant at that moment entered with mine. I had ordered it, because my not assuming my right in this trifling etiquette would have made me less respected, not only by the Nazr and his court, but, what was of real consequence, by the Arabs, who were to accompany me across the desert to Berber. Generally I hate etiquette and ceremony, as the north and north-east winds of society; but I have found from experience, that with the Turks it is absolutely necessary to insist upon their observance. Travellers, in their ignorance of Eastern manners, are generally too humble to them. If even a Katshef pays them a visit, they rise from their seats and bow, as often and as low as if he were a monarch. Accordingly, when they return the visit, they have the mortification to perceive, that the Turk, misconstruing such European courtesy into obsequiousness, and an acknowledgment of inferiority, does not even rise to receive him; but, with a slight condescending nod, desires his visitor to be seated, and of course has less regard to his requests in matters of real importance. The days of Burckhardt are past. The traveller throughout Mohammed Ali’s dominions has now no occasion to submit to any indignity, or even incivility: his forbearance will gain him nothing except the consciousness of having fruitlessly submitted to the contempt of an ignorant and illiterate barbarian. I have dwelt upon this little circumstance, from my experience of its importance for the guidance of future travellers. The Nazr, during the rest of my visit, was profuse in his offers of services. He informed me, that the Government were themselves in want of camels; but that I should have the first that could be procured, which he hoped would be next day. Along with the Nazr was a Bey, just returned across the desert from Berber. I could get little information from him; and, indeed, could not ask many questions of him, as I found he had just been removed from the government in disgrace, on account of extortion. I might have guessed the cause from his physiognomy, for I have rarely seen so villainous a countenance. He did not seem neglected in his adversity, as numbers of Turks were visiting him, each kissing his hand, and wishing him a speedy return to the favour of the Pasha. He gave me no flattering description of the desert, telling me I should feel it bitterly cold at night, and should spend nine or ten days, without finding any water at all drinkable. The sorry condition of his camels, too, strongly confirmed the truth of this account.