January 5, at six in the evening, we reached Assouan, and moored alongside the island of Elephantine. Here we are at Syene; for Assouan is but the Coptic Souan or Syene with the Arabic initial Alef added, together Assouan—to the Romans the frontier of the world, as all beyond was savage barbarism and unproductive soil. Domitian could think of no more
horrible place to which he might banish the great satirist, and while here Juvenal amused himself by satirizing equally the Roman and Egyptian soldiers. Under the Ptolemies Syene was thought to lie immediately beneath the tropic of Cancer; but, as is now well known, this was a mistake, as it is situated in latitude 24° 5´ 25´´, seven hundred and thirty miles from the Mediterranean. In the early ages of Christianity Syene was the seat of a bishopric, and at one time more than twenty thousand of the inhabitants were destroyed by a fearful pest. The present town is large and well built. Merchandise from the Soodan and Central Africa is here taken from the camel’s back and shipped by water to Cairo. Here for the first time we see those different specimens of the African race—Nubians, Ababdeh, Bisharee, Bedoween, and many others from the still far-off interior. We are pestered and besieged by itinerant venders with every description of wares to be sold. They squat on the bank, waiting for some of the howadjii to come out. As soon as any of us appear we are surrounded by this motley crew, spears brandished in our faces—spears that have seen actual usage in the barbarous wars of the natives of the interior—ostrich eggs are poked under our noses, and the beautiful ostrich feathers waved above our heads. Strings of beads, elephants’ tusks are offered to us. I wish to buy a chibouk. I select one—a fine bowl of red clay beautifully polished, and a stem six feet long and straight as an arrow. “Well, you miserable, sordid, grovelling, lucre-loving, half-naked wretch” (this in English), “How much?” (this in Arabic).
A shrug of the shoulders, and eyes cast upon the ground.
“Well, how much?”
In a low, moaning voice: “Ten piastres”—only five times the proper value.
“I will give you one piastre.”
“Oh! no, by no means.” This is not spoken with the mouth, but by a more expressive movement of the head and shoulders. In the course of time the bargain is concluded for two piastres. I give him a piece of ten and hold out the hand for change. A bag is produced, filled with copper coins, of which it takes an indefinite quantity to equal a silver piece of any given value. Slowly and deliberately he counts into my hand a score or two of them, stops, and looks up into my face. More! Again they are reluctantly doled out one by one. Another stoppage, another demand for more; and so it goes, until one party cries enough, or the other knows that he has given the proper change. This is carried so far that on one occasion, where silver change was to be given for a napoleon, I observed the seller count out from his money-bag the proper amount of change, conceal it in his hand, and then go through the operation above described. But the regular shop-keeper does not bother you to buy—only the outside board, as it were. The merchant is a most dignified man; if it pleases Allah for you to buy, you will do it, otherwise not—Oriental predestination—so he is perfectly indifferent.
We wanted to go shopping, and looked around for the rich merchant of the town, who had fine ostrich eggs and feathers, elephants’ tusks, and spears. We found him seated on the ground reading a letter, brought out, no doubt, to impress us with his importance. I half think
the letter was upside down, and doubt very much whether he could read at all; but it gave him the air of a man engaged in extensive foreign correspondence. Ali made known what we wanted. Without raising his head, he sent a boy to open his store, and told Ali he would follow when he finished his letter. Shortly after he came up, sat down on a divan, and got at the letter again. When we complained of the price, he did not deign a reply, and finally, when we rose to leave, he did not even lift his eyes, but seemed to be still trying to decipher his correspondence. I am sure it was partly done for effect, for he could have read a dozen letters while we were in his shop. But then he wanted to show his indifference.