An Artist in Egypt

by Walter Tyndale

It will be remembered that when the great Mohammed Ali, towards the end of his reign, fell into a state of imbecility, the reins of government were seized by his famous general and adopted son Ibrahim, and that the latter died within a year after becoming the ruler of Egypt. Mohammed’s death occurred soon after, and the viceregal throne passed to his grandson, Abbas I., who reigned from 1849 to 1854. During these five years the Europeanisation of Egypt ceased. Abbas would have none of the Frankish innovations which his grandfather encouraged; European schools, western legal procedure and military instruction were banished, and the ulemas, dervishes, and fakirs came by their own once more. His country nevertheless prospered during his reign.

As in so many instances in the history of Egypt, this ruler was a terror to his numerous near relatives who might be able to establish a claim to the succession. Of the eighty-five children of Mohammed Ali but few were living, and this few were well alive to the danger of their august relationship. Even the princess Zohra, after she had fled to Constantinople, must be careful of what she ate or drank, and of the loyalty of those who served her. The Taster became once more an important personage in the various palaces, and not the least in that of Abbas himself. His two uncles, Said and Halim, were both much the same age as their nephew—a thing of constant occurrence in the hareem life in the East. They lived on tenterhooks, as being possible rivals to the succession of Abbas’s only son, a delicate little boy called El Hami. Said Pasha lived at Alexandria when he was not enjoying himself in Paris. He was the minister of the Egyptian navy—not an arduous post, for most of the ships had been destroyed during the wars of his father and those of Ibrahim. Halim Pasha lived in retirement in his mother’s palace at Shubra.

Abbas and his large hareem divided their time at the palace at Abbasiyeh, at another which he built in the desert near Suez, and at a third on the banks of the Nile at Benha. The chief ulema of the Azhar who was tutor to El Hami, and Elfy Bey, the Governor of Cairo and Minister of War, became the leading men in the state. Rumours soon spread through the bazaars that a holy war might any day be proclaimed, and, if so, a general massacre of the Christians would follow. Later on it was reported that the day of the horse races at Alexandria was the day decided on for the rising. Said and Halim, who were both friendly to the Europeans, trembled at the consequences which might follow; for in a general rising opportunities are easily found to dispose of relations who may be thought in the way. The Minister of the Navy found an excuse for going to Marseilles about the purchase of a frigate, and he made preparations to sail the day before the races.

It was during the first days of the hamseen that these sinister rumours spread in the bazaars, and Abbas decided to migrate with his court to the palace at Benha, which is about a third of the way on the road from Cairo to Alexandria. It was also decided to send the young prince El Hami to Syria for the good of his health. From his stables at Benha the Viceroy would send his favourite horse, el Dogaan, to compete in the Alexandrian races.

The narrator goes on to say that ‘man may propose, but God disposes.’ Abbas and his court duly arrived at the palace at Benha; the hamseen increased in strength, and with it the temper of Abbas, which at no time was a good one. It was an easy task for the ulemas and dervishes, who formed a part of his suite, to dispel any misgivings which the Pasha may have had as to the contemplated massacre. The court astrologer, Soliman el Habeshi, had fixed the auspicious hour on which to begin. The hamseen favoured their designs, for we are told that the wind increased in violence, and that el Habeshi had to make his calculations when no stars were visible, owing to the clouds of dust which hid them.

Rames, the servant of Halim Pasha, now relates to Eyth what followed. ‘I had long been supplanted in my post of pipe-filler to Abbas, who at that time was my master, by two handsome young mamelukes called Hassan and Husseyn. They were twins, the same as were the heroes after whom they were named. They had been sent from Constantinople as a present from the Sultan to the ruler of Egypt. Abbas had every confidence in them and loaded them with marks of his favour, while I was relegated to the stables. I did not mind that, for I always loved horses, and el Dogaan was as the apple of my eye. As no one could ride this horse as I could, it was decided that I should do jockey in the coming races. I was in the seventh heaven, and was attending to my charge one night, when I was startled by the appearance in the stables of the astrologer. His wild looks and gestures were alarming. “Be silent, Rames!” he said, “the all-knowing God ordains what is right, but our Lord the Basha is in his bath! He bathes in his own blood!”

‘The horror of this awful news gave way to a sense of relief that I was at last freed from a lifelong tyranny. I ran to the palace and crept silently up the stairs and through the passages which led to the bathroom. A lamp hung outside the curtain at the entrance. I feared to pull this aside—I listened, and hearing no sound my curiosity overcame my fear. I pulled back the curtain, and a red ray from the hanging lamp fell on to the marble bath. A naked arm hung over the further edge and a head lay against the end wall. As if to make him look ridiculous, his assassins had slit the mouth till it nearly reached the ears, and a horrible grimace added to the awfulness of the scene. A gash in the throat showed how the Basha had met his death, and a dark red stream still trickled from this to colour the water in which the body lay.

‘I still see, when I close my eyes, that bloodless face with its diabolical smile, lit by the red rays of the hanging lamp; though the Basha was dead, the evil spirit which possessed him still clung to its tenement. The costly marble bath, the gilded stalactites which hung from the dome-shaped roof, and all the luxury with which this room was fitted only added to the horror of the spectacle.

‘I heard voices not far off, and knew the danger I ran if I were caught here. I slipped off as fast and as silently as I could and returned to my stables, where I saddled el Dogaan and led him along the footpath to the bank of the river. Huddled in a heap, there sat the astrologer, who trembled as the aspen leaf. I asked him what he was doing there, and, putting his fingers to his lips, he whispered, “Do you not know, O Rames, that they seek to kill me? The court physician is already under lock and key, and all who know of this murder must die—you also—for the secret must on no account leak out until El Hami can be placed on the throne.” “They must catch me first,” I called out, and jumping into the saddle I stuck my spurs into el Dogaan and rode towards Shubra as fast as I could.

‘Halim Basha had oft befriended me, and he would not forsake me now in my dire necessity. El Dogaan raced along the Cairo road as fast as if he took part in the Alexandrian meeting. In two hours he covered the ground between Benha and the Shubra palace, where we arrived before daybreak. Allah el Azeem! how he ran. I thought not only of my safety, but of the far-reaching effects my news might have.’