The East

by William Young Martin

Here all is life, bustle, and excitement. A hundred vessels—many of them steamers of large size—crowded the bay—where they lay at anchor for the purpose of unloading and loading cargo. This is carried by lighters betwixt them and the quays, along side of which only small craft lie—I suppose in consequence of the silting of the mud from the many mouths of the Nile rendering the water there insufficiently deep. In the bay, and surrounding us on all sides, were steamers of the five Maritime Powers who compete for the navigation of the Mediterranean—viz., the P. & O. (British), the Austrian Lloyd’s (perhaps the most numerous, and all bearing names of the heathen gods, from Jupiter down to Mercury), the French, the Russian, and the Egyptian. I have put them down in the order of their merit, I think, although not of their numbers. I understand, however, that the French steamer service (Messageries Maritimes) has very recently been greatly improved in every respect, and that now the P. & O. require to look to their laurels in the East generally. The confusion of landing is, as almost everywhere else, apt to end in a scramble, and sometimes in a fight for possession of the luggage by the porters of the hotels, or by the Arabs on their own account for the sake of “Bakshish”—a word we heard for the first time, but which we were not allowed to forget.

Viewed from the deck of the steamer the appearance of Alexandria is fine. The grand modern breakwater on the left forms its northern boundary; the quays themselves are immediately in front, and the shore or beach of the city on the right side—forming nearly a semicircle of great extent. The ancient Pharos no longer exists. The buildings, which appear more prominently in view, being regular and of a whitish coloured stone or cement, have a somewhat French appearance. Alexandria is indeed the Liverpool of the Mediterranean, and here are to be met with ships and flags of all countries, and men of all costumes. As everywhere else under Turkish rule, the custom-house business is conducted by the officers with a good deal of state and formality. A boat from the shore with the Egyptian flag, rowed by half a dozen or more Arabs, and containing half as many Turks—sitting in the stern seats, richly dressed, and wearing the inevitable red fez cap—boarded us. No communication whatever was allowed to be held with any of the surrounding boats until they had examined the ship’s papers, and declared us to have a clean bill of health. I was struck by the dignified appearance of these Turks, who somewhat resembled Englishmen, both in personal appearance and that dignified reserve of which, with rare exceptions, the Arabs are devoid.

Rain had fallen heavily for two days previous to our landing, but now the sun shone out brightly. We put up at Abbat’s Oriental Hotel, one of, if not the largest in the city, and found at the table-d’hôte an assembly of travellers of all nations, of whom perhaps the best-looking, and certainly the best-dressed, were the Greeks. The inhabitants consist of Turks, Arabs in great variety, Copts, Jews and Greeks, and other Europeans. The Copts claim to be the only Egyptians. One of them, whom I found well read in Ancient History and English Literature, told me so with evident pride—the Arabs, he added, were there only by conquest. The Copts are, however, a small portion of the inhabitants—resembling, I think, the gentle-looking Hindoos—somewhat “sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought”—and physically inferior to the Arabs. Their religion is a kind of mongrel Christianity.

Some of the business parts of Alexandria present a European appearance, but the other parts are crowded, narrow, and decidedly Eastern. The most remarkable feature in the city is, I think, the number and excellence of the donkeys—and the Egyptian donkey is really an interesting and wonderful quadruped. Their speed is excellent, and they are extremely sure-footed; occasionally, however, some very amusing scenes occur in the streets, in which the English sailors, turned equestrians, form prominent actors.

Pompey’s Pillar stands on the sand outside the walls. It is a finely executed obelisk of red granite, nearly one hundred feet high, on a pedestal. It seemed about nine feet in diameter, and is covered with hieroglyphics. Cleopatra’s Needle lies flat upon the sand near to the sea margin. It is similar to Pompey’s Pillar, but seemed rather smaller, and is a painful picture of fallen greatness utterly neglected.

There are some European open carriages, but few or no carts or waggons, almost the whole traffic, both equestrian and of goods, being carried on the donkeys’ backs, of which the number in the city must be very large indeed. Passing along one of the streets, I observed a train of donkeys carrying corn in bags to the harbour for shipment. Except a very narrow strip at one edge, the street, being entirely formed of mud, was, in consequence of the recent rains, a perfect puddle. A large bag filled with corn having fallen from the back of a donkey not so big as itself, it so bespattered the poor animal with mud right over one eye that it presented a most ludicrous appearance to the passers-by—standing stock-still beside the bag, and quite beyond the reach of the boy who always attends them. The next following donkey and boy passed on, perfectly regardless of the difficulty, and there the poor donkey stood, nearly up to his nose in the slime, with a scorching sun overhead, which quickly dried the mud that bespattered its head to a white colour just like a great plaster. I never witnessed, even in a pantomime, a more comic picture. The scene was entirely Egyptian, where no one seems to consider it necessary to help another in a difficulty; and how long the poor donkey stood there I cannot tell. It besides exhibited the extraordinary patience of the Egyptians—donkeys and people. I may here mention, once for all, that these Eastern donkeys are worthy of a better name. They are as much superior to the obstinate and stupid donkeys of this country in breeding as the celebrated Arab horse is to an English dray one; and though smaller in size—at least those of Egypt—they carry a much greater burden without complaining. I am surprised that these animals are not introduced into this country. If acclimatized, they would be extremely useful in carrying equestrians and traffic generally on hilly roads, or equally well where there are no roads at all. They are generally of a light mouse colour, and the boys who have charge of them pride themselves in keeping their hair cut short and in curious figured patterns, somewhat in imitation of damask.

Here almost every article is to be had, in the shops near the harbour, which an Englishman can desire, not excepting “Bass’s Beer” and “Scotch Whisky,” which I observed nowhere else in the East except at Port Said.

The government of Egypt is thoroughly despotic, and the Arabs, who form the great bulk of the population, appear to hold a very humble position—little above that of slavery. All departments of the government seem to be carried on by command, and in many of them foreigners exercise control. There are no newspapers, and no public opinion—with the Moslem Arabs “whatever is, is right,” and nothing seems to occasion resistance, complaint, or even surprise. Their misfortunes are by the will of Allah—it is vain to resist fate.

There is a very good story told in the hotels, which, whether true or not, illustrates this submissive nature well. The railway is much used by the Arabs and common people. One afternoon a train, when on the eve of starting from the Alexandria Station for Cairo, was, to make way for a special train required for some official purpose, temporarily shunted out of the station into a waggon shed to clear the line. There, out of sight, it was quickly forgotten, in the bustle of the other station business of the day. The poor Arabs, by no means unaccustomed to treatment of this kind, waited patiently till night fell without complaining, and, submitting to their fate, after duly performing their sunset devotions, composed themselves to sleep as they best could for the night—very likely without any supper. Next morning they were discovered by the railway officials, who meantime had received a telegram from Cairo asking what had become of that afternoon’s train! Can we imagine such an absurdity occurring at an English railway station? I suppose here the station-master would have been made acquainted with the oversight within as many minutes as the poor Arabs waited hours, and that by a clamour which he would never have forgotten. There, such a thing might have happened and no one but the poor passengers have known or inquired, except perchance some stray traveller in the hotel.

Alexandria has a good English Church, a neat Presbyterian one, and several Protestant schools. There is an excellent hospital for sick sailors and others, under the protection of Prussia, and conducted by the German Protestant Sisters. One of these ladies (Sister Gertrude) visited England and Scotland a few years ago and made several friends. Having an introduction forwarded to me from home, I visited the house—a very good well-aired building, about a mile out of the city. Sister Gertrude had left for the well-known Fatherland Head Institution, but I received a welcome from the matron at the head of the establishment, who assured me that her Sister had spoken with pleasure of the reception she had received. It was a warm day, and I enjoyed the coolness of the hospital and its extreme cleanliness after my dusty ride. Such a retreat must be a real oasis in the desert to many a sick and solitary stranger. I may here mention that all the Prussian Consulates in the East appear to foster schools as well as hospitals.