The street cries of Cairo are unique. At the early break of the day, or rather at the moment of sunrise, the muezzin is heard: "To prayers, to prayers, O ye believers!" Mustapha translated for us. Here was a seller of peas, crying: "O parched peas. Nuts of love!" He was a rough fellow but had a mellow voice. All those itinerants qualify, or recommend their goods by added words; thus a girl, with cut up sugar-cane in a basket upon her head, cried: "Sugar-canes; white sugar-canes," though the article was black and blue. The water-carrier, with a full skin slung over his shoulder, shouted: "God's gift, limpid water!" A long bearded Copt cried: "O figs; O believers, figs!" and so on. When the crowd is dense in the narrow streets lined by the bazars, the donkey-boy shouts: "O woman, to the left!" or if some peddler of goods be in the way, he or she is designated by the article on sale, as: "O oranges, to the right!" or "O eggs, out of the way!" This, which sounds so odd, is meant in good faith, and answers the desired purpose. No one calls out in Arabic, addressing another, without prefixing some expletive. Thus the dealer of sweetmeats drawls out: "In the name of the Prophet, comfits." Even the beggar says: "O Christian, backsheesh!" as he leans upon a crutch and extends his trembling hand. If you respond, all is well; if not, your ears will be assailed by a jumble of Arabic, which, if your guide faithfully translates to you, will probably be found to signify a hearty wish that Allah may roast your grandfather.
The pyramids of Gizeh are situated about ten miles from Cairo, and after crossing the Nile by a remarkable iron bridge, guarded at either end by two bronze lions, are reached by a straight level road lined with well-trimmed trees. This road terminates at a rocky plateau which serves to give these wonderful structures an elevated site, as well as to form a natural foundation for the enormous weight of solid stone to be supported. There is always an importuning group of Arabs here, who live upon the gratuities obtained from visitors, and they are so persistent us to lead many people to employ them solely for the purpose of ending their annoyance. These hangers-on assist people to ascend and descend the pyramids for a fixed sum, or for a few shillings will run up and down them like monkeys. On the way between Cairo and the pyramids, through the long alley of acacias, we passed hundreds of camels bound to the city, laden with green fodder, and newly cut clover, for stable use in town. They do not employ carts; the backs of camels and donkeys supersede the use of wheels.
Nothing new can be written about these monuments. Famous and hoary, doting with age, the pyramids were disappointing to us,—not as to size, for they are immense. Every one is familiar with the marvelous statistics relating to them. But what do they really amount to? They simply show, standing there upon the border of the desert, a vast aggregate of labor performed by compulsion, and only exhibit the supreme folly of the monarchs who thus vainly strove to erect monuments which should defy all time and perpetuate their fame. Symbols of ancient tyranny and injustice, tears, and death. To-day not even the names of their founders are known. There are plausible suppositions enough about them, each investigator and writer upon the subject having plenty of argument to support his special convictions and theory; but so far as the simple truth is concerned the history of Cheops is much better standing as a blank than resting amid a confusion of very thin speculations. There is no genius evinced in the design or execution of the pyramids. Neither art, taste, nor religion are in any way subserved by these unequaled follies. Nothing could be ruder: there is no architectural excellence exhibited in them; they are merely enormous piles of stone; that is absolutely all. Some pronounce them marvelous evidences of ancient greatness and power. True; but if it were desirable, we could build loftier and larger ones in our day. As they are surely over four thousand yours old we admit that they are venerable, and they enjoy a certain consideration on that account. In the religious instinct which led the Buddhists to build, at such enormous expense of time and money, those cave temples of Elephanta, Ellora, and Carlee; in the idolatrous Hindoo temples of Madura, Tanjore, and Trichinopoly, the shrines of Ceylon, the pagodas of China, and the rich temples of Nikko, one detects an underlying and elevating sentiment, a grand and reverential idea, in which there may be more of truth and acceptable veneration than we can appreciate; but in the pyramids we have no expression of devotion; only an embodiment of personal vanity, which hesitated at nothing for its gratification, and which has only proved a total failure.
The immensity of the desert landscape, and the absence of any object for comparison, make these three pyramids seem smaller than they are, but the actual height of the largest, that of Cheops, is nearly five hundred feet, and it looks to be of that height when one is far away from its base. The fixed object of the pyramids is still a subject of learned discussion, as well as by whom they were built. The theory that they are royal tombs is generally accepted; and yet have not the mummies of bulls and other animals been found in them? All record relating to Cheops is at least very questionable; thus history fades into fable, and is clouded with doubt. Bunsen claims for Egypt nearly seven thousand years of civilization and prosperity before the building of these monstrous monuments. We do not often pause to consider how little real history there is. Conjecture is not history. If contemporary record so often belies itself, what ought we to consider of that which comes through the shadowy distance of ages? It will be remembered that a mummy of a human being, taken from the smallest of the three pyramids, that of Myceninus, is to be seen in the British Museum. The familiar story of the beautiful Egyptian princess, who is said to have erected this pyramid with the fortunes of her many lovers, will occur to the reader. A volume of legendary matter could be filled relative to these structures, which are called pyramids of Gizeh, after the crumbled city which once stood so near to them.
Not many hundred feet from the pyramids, on a somewhat lower plain, stands that colossal mystery, the Sphinx. The Arabs call it "The Father of Terror," and it certainly has a most weird, unworldly look. Its body, and most of the head, is hewn out of the solid rock where it stands, the upper portion forming the head and bust of a human being, to which is added the paws and body of an animal. The great size of the figure will be realized when we recall the fact that the face is thirty feet long and half as wide. The body is in a reclining, or rather a sitting posture, with the paws extended forward some fifty feet or more. This strange figure is believed to be of much greater antiquity than the pyramids, but no one knows how old it is. Notwithstanding its mutilated condition, showing the furrows of time, the features have still a sad, tranquil expression, the whole reminding us, in its apparent purpose, of the great bronze image Dai-Butsu at Kamakura, though it is some five thousand years older, at least, than the Japanese figure. There is also the foundation of an ancient temple near at hand, the upper portion of the structure having long since crumbled to dust. This is supposed to have been in some way connected with the great statue, half animal and half human in form. Ages ago, from a sanctuary between the lion-like paws of the sphinx, sacrifices were undoubtedly offered, as archæologists believe, of human beings, to the divinity it was designed to represent. Here, for five or six thousand years, more or less, this strange figure has remained unchanged in the midst of change, through ancient Ethiopian dynasties, mediæval battles, and pestilences; even to our day, calm, unalterable, crumbling in parts, but still bodily extant, and doubtless the oldest known object erected by the hand of man.
In a visit to the house of our guide in Cairo, an intelligent Turk, who wore the full traditional costume of his people, and was a person of some note, though not above receiving eight francs per day for his services, it was interesting to observe the domestic arrangements, which he assured us were similar to those of most of his neighbors. The rooms were of various heights, and irregular in formation, requiring one to constantly ascend or descend a couple of steps in passing from one room to another, no two being of the same height,—a most incongruous arrangement, the object of which was not apparent. The placing of the windows in the dwelling also struck us as being very odd, until the explanation that the design was to prevent being overlooked by one's neighbors. The guide touched a secret spring and showed a door, where we should not have supposed one to exist, leading into a dark, descending passage to the rear and outside of the house. This, he explained, was designed to afford an escape in case of emergency, and was only known to the builder and himself. "All houses in Cairo have some such passages," he remarked. A few minutes later, in a dark corner, a secret door was caused to open, half the size of the first, and to which he pointed mysteriously. "And what is this for?" we asked. "It is to hide treasures in, and to secrete one's self in haste, when desirable," he replied. One would suppose that the universality of these architectural secrets would rob them of all security or usefulness. There was one portion of the house not open to us, which was, as may be supposed, the apartments occupied by Mustapha's wives, of whom he acknowledged to have four behind the latticed blinds of the overhanging balcony.
Although there are plenty of schools in Cairo, such as they are, only boys are taught to read and write in them. Girls, even among the wealthy classes, are not taught, as a rule, the simplest rudiments of education. They, however, acquire some accomplishments of a domestic character,—such as sewing, embroidery,—and often play upon some simple musical instrument of a string character. We saw in Mustapha's house a mandolin which was evidently used by the women of the harem.
The Mosque of Mehemet Ali, with its tapering minarets overlooking all Cairo, was found to be quite a modern edifice, scarcely more than half a century in age, but it is a very remarkable and beautiful structure, and of great cost. The spacious building is lined throughout with Oriental alabaster, and the exterior is of the same costly finish. There is the sarcophagus of Mehemet Ali, the most enlightened of modern Egyptian rulers, before which lamps are burning perpetually. The interior of this mosque in its combined effect seemed to be the most effective, architecturally, of any temple of the sort which we had visited. There is a height, breadth, and solemn dignity in its aspect, which earnestly impresses one. The exterior is much less striking, but yet admirably balanced and harmonized. The lofty situation of the mosque commands one of the most interesting views that can well be conceived of. The city, with its countless minarets and domed mosques, its public buildings and tree-adorned squares, its section of mud-colored houses and terraced roofs, lies in the form of a crescent at the visitor's feet, while the plains of Lower Egypt stretch far away in all directions. The tombs of the Memlooks lie close at hand, full of suggestiveness, as also does the lonely column of Heliopolis, four thousand years old, marking the site of the famous "City of the Sun." Beyond and towards the sea is the land of Goshen, where the sons of Jacob fed their flocks. A little more westerly in the mysterious Nile is seen the well-wooded island of Roda, quietly nestling in the broad bosom of the river. The grand Aqueduct, with its high arches reaching for miles, reminds one of the Campagna at Rome; while beyond loom up the time-defying pyramids, the horizon ending at the borders of the great Libyan Desert. Far away to the southwest a forest of palms dimly marks the site of dead and buried Memphis, where Joseph interpreted a monarch's dream. Twilight was approaching when we were there The half-suppressed hum of a dense Eastern population came up from the busy, low-lying city, and a strange, sensuous flavor of sandal-wood, musk, and attar of roses floated upon the golden haze of the sunset, indelibly fixing the Oriental scene on the memory.
A visit to the Shoobra Palace, in the environs of Cairo, took us over a fine road and through a shady avenue of sycamores and lebbec-trees, the latter remarkable for its umbrageous character. This is the favorite drive of the citizens at twilight, where every known modern style of carriage may be met, from the Khedive's equipages, four-in-hand, and those of the ladies of his harem, to the single English gig or dog-cart. There are also the light American trotting wagons, elegant European barouches, mingled with equestrians upon spirited Arab horses; also people mounted upon nice donkeys,—for some of these animals are highly bred. Again, richly caparisoned camels from the Khedive's stables occasionally heighten the Eastern aspect of the scene, which recalled the Maidan of Calcutta most vividly. The roadway is not devoid of pedestrians, who come to see and to be seen. In short, the Shoobra Road is the Rotten Row of Cairo. Even here fashion steps in after her arbitrary manner, and establishes Friday and Sunday afternoons as the "swell" days for riding or driving on the avenue. But we started for the Khedive's Palace, and have stopped to gossip by the way.
The Summer Palace at Shoobra is surrounded by beautiful gardens, to visit which a permit is required from city officials; but not being thus prepared, a little silver was found to be equally effective with the obliging custodian. The apartments of the palace are numerous and elegantly furnished, in a mixed Turkish and European style, with divans, lounges, chairs, tables of inlaid marble, and massive curtains mingled with silk and satin hangings. The grand drawing-room was furnished in gold and white satin; the ladies' parlor in green satin and silver; each anteroom in different colors; all gorgeous, and a little fantastic. The great number of mirrors was almost confusing; and French clocks, two in some rooms, stared at one from all directions. The mirrors produced a serious danger by their reflected perspective, and one was liable to walk boldly into them. In the centre of the palace was an area open to the sky, upon which doors and windows faced, after the Moorish style, as at Cordova and Toledo, in the centre of which was an artificial lake formed by a huge marble basin, the whole surrounded by corridors of white marble. Here were placed divans, lounges, and luxurious chairs, besides many choice plants in richly ornamented porcelain vases, evidently forming the domestic lounging place of the family. We observed an American piano in a cozy little room opening upon this corridor, and a billiard-table in another. In the extensive grounds surrounding the palace, landscape-gardening and modern floral effects have been finely carried out by a skilled foreigner, who had been imported for this special purpose from Versailles. The variety of fruit was really remarkable, embracing orange, lemon, banana, fig, peach, and pear-trees, and a great variety of choice flowers were in their glory. The peach-trees,—it was late in February,—well-divided about the long, broad paths, were in full splendor of blossom, dotting the whole view with huge clusters of pink flowers delightful to the eye. The walks were clean, nicely cared for, and the shrubbery admirably trimmed, though there was no attempt at Chinese grotesqueness in shape and figures. Nature was permitted to follow her own sweet will as to form and luxuriousness of growth, filling the air with a mingled perfume of roses, heliotrope, and lemon-verbena. As we left the grounds each was presented with a bouquet by the disinterested (?) gardener.