About two centuries ago lived Sultan Hassan, a sovereign prosperous and beloved, but withal somewhat eccentric. He had every thing to make him contented, but there rose up in him, by and by, a strong desire to travel. He longed to see foreign lands; to study the living world; to hear the sages of other climes; and, if possible, to turn philosopher himself. The royalty that acted as a barrier to the gratification of his wishes, became at length odious to him, and he determined for a while to lay it aside, and to travel as a private individual. He sent, therefore, for his prime minister or Vizier, and after a confidential interview, delivered to him in trust, during the sovereign’s absence, the sceptre of honor and the throne of state. He himself left the kingdom, and all traces of him were speedily lost. He now assumed the appearance of a merchant, and under this character travelled through many and far distant lands. He went wherever curiosity enticed him, toiling on from place to place, in hopes that at each it would still its unquiet yearnings and be satisfied; he studied man in every variety of character; he conversed with the wise men of every country, and at length he became a wise man himself, which was evinced by a resolution to return forthwith and be contented at home. Curiosity, he found, only gathered strength by each gratification; the world and its notions were a greater puzzle to him than at the beginning; and what little he knew of them, made him afraid to examine further; and as to wisdom itself, he found it every where less valued than money, and was astonished to see even himself, by and by, deserting the pursuit of it for the pursuit of wealth. He was rapidly successful in his dealings, and grew very rich; and now, ending where he had begun in his boyhood, with believing that Egypt was the best and happiest country in the world, he set out forthwith on his return.
But a disappointment awaited him. His faithless Vizier, concluding that the power which he found so agreeable for a short time, would be agreeable through life, had established himself firmly on the throne; and the old Sultan, on reaching the confines of his country, found that the very name of Hassan had been interdicted to his people, and that he was apparently forgotten. He kept his disguise, and, safe in the changes which time and exposure, and a long beard had wrought on his face, he travelled on, and found himself at length once more in Cairo. The wealthy merchant soon had many friends, and his business continuing to prosper, he applied by and by for permission to erect a mosque, as an act of thanksgiving to Allah for his numerous favors. The request was granted, and the foundations of this mosque, closely adjoining the citadel, were laid with the usual ceremonies. Under pretext of strengthening the edifice in so unstable a soil, he laid the groundwork strong and deep, and secured it moreover with numerous arches or vaults. The building rose, and the populace came in multitudes to look at the huge edifice and praise the piety of the liberal-handed merchant, who before long found that he had established a throne, at least in the hearts of the people. He was aiming, however, at a more substantial throne. He had by this time filled the deep vaults with men, whom by liberal pay he had engaged to wait there for his bidding, and whom he daily practised with the scimitar, till there was not one among them who could not at a blow sever without disarranging the light tuft of down, the acme of a Turkish swordsman’s ambition. The edifice was finished, and a grand building, as you perceive, it really is; and the new courtiers, in their way back and forth between the palace and the city, stopped to applaud the zeal of the pious merchant; nor dreamed for a moment of the pandemonium beneath. It is customary when a mosque is consecrated to give it also a name; and this having now been finished, a day was appointed for these ceremonies; and as the edifice was so highly ornamental to the city, the Sultan himself consented to grace the occasion with his presence. He came with a great retinue of courtiers and a line of guards; and splendid indeed was the scene within the proud and stately edifice. The merchant himself was placed in a conspicuous and an honorable station. The ceremony commenced, and the prayers were said; and the Mufti at length, turning to the merchant, bade him pronounce the name by which his pious offering to Allah should be known. He rose from his seat, and while all leaned forward to catch the sound, he replied, “Call it Sultan Hassan.” The multitude started as if each had been bitten by a serpent, and the Mufti grew pale; but recovering himself, demanded if he had heard him aright. “Yes,” he cried, as a curtain rose at one end and disclosed the name in large letters of gold: “call it by my name, by that of your sovereign, Sultan Hassan;” and at the words, his myrmidons, who had been led up from the vaults and distributed through the church, falling on the astonished usurper and his train, put them all to the sword. From thence they rushed to the citadel, of which they got possession; and before the sun went down, Sultan Hassan was once more proclaimed sovereign of Egypt.
Such was the history of this building, as it was narrated to us on the spot. One of the Cavasses offered to show me the interior if I would disguise myself like a Turk; but as I felt no disposition to put my own neck to hazard in this mosque of the bloody baptism, I satisfied myself with looking at the outer walls.
Close adjoining it are some lions, however, which are worthy of a visit. They are just from the deserts, and are very different from the abused and broken-spirited animals exhibited in our country and in Europe. They are confined in a room of no great dimensions, and are fastened only by a chain attached to the wall; and if any man, who calls himself one of the lords of creation, would meditate on the justice of his vaunted title, I would advise him to go and do it in this den of lions.
The ladies of our party returned, after an absence of about an hour, greatly delighted with their visit; they were, I believe, the first foreign ladies ever permitted to enter this part of the palace, and were allowed to depart only on the promise of a longer visit as soon as circumstances would admit.
From the Pasha’s palace we proceeded to visit “Joseph’s Well,” a deep pit for supplying the citadel with water, dug, however, not by the Joseph of our Scriptures, but by Saladin, whose name, I believe, was also Yousef or Joseph. It consists of two shafts, the upper about 150 feet in depth and 45 in diameter, with a winding gallery around, separated from the shaft by a wall pierced with openings for the admission of light. This is all cut out of the solid rock. The lower shaft is about 120 feet in depth, making altogether 270 feet. The water is raised to the top of the first shaft by means of oxen, and poured into a reservoir, whence it is carried up in a similar manner to a reservoir in the citadel; but it is brackish, and used for drinking only in times of siege.
Mounting our horses once more, we returned through the court of the Mamelukes, and at its further extremity, within the citadel, alighted to examine an extensive manufactory of fire-arms. They first took us to a foundry of brass cannon in active operation, and thence to a suite of rooms where some hundreds of native workmen were employed manufacturing muskets, pistols, swords, and gun-carriages, &c., in rolling sheet copper for the navy, and in making bolts and sheathing nails. They manufacture here 36,000 muskets annually, with pistols and sabres to correspond. The various parts of the musket are made exactly of the same size, so that if any part is injured, it can be immediately replaced. The different branches are superintended by foreigners, mostly from France; but the master workmen are all natives of the country, many of them having been sent abroad to qualify them for these stations.
The mint is also kept in the citadel, and on a subsequent visit they took us over every part, explaining the whole process of money-making, and striking for us impressions on paper of all their coins. The machinery is old and clumsy, but they had just imported a new set made of cast iron from England, which they were about putting into operation. We found the superintendent of the mint, an old man with a superb white beard, poring over a great atlas just printed at Constantinople, and sadly puzzled with its labyrinths. He seemed quite grateful for a little assistance we were able to give him in comprehending them.