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THE
ENGLISHWOMAN IN EGYPT.

THE HOME & TRAVELLER’S LIBRARY SEMI-MONTHLY.

II.

PHILADELPHIA:

G. B. ZEIBER & CO.

1845.

No. I.

OF THE

HOME AND TRAVELLER’S LIBRARY

CONTAINED

TEXAS

AND

THE GULF OF MEXICO;

OR

YACHTING IN THE NEW WORLD.

BY MRS. HOUSTOUN.

With Illustrations.

No. II.

THE

ENGLISHWOMAN IN EGYPT.

BY MRS. POOLE.

To be followed, at intervals of about two weeks, by

No. III.

NIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.

AND

No. IV.

SKETCHES

OF

CREDULITY, IMPOSTURE AND DECEPTION.

ETC. ETC. ETC.

II.

THE

ENGLISHWOMAN IN EGYPT;

LETTERS FROM CAIRO,

WRITTEN DURING A RESIDENCE THERE IN 1842, 3, & 4.

WITH

E. W. LANE, Esq.,

AUTHOR OF “THE MODERN EGYPTIANS.”

BY HIS SISTER.

PHILADELPHIA:

G. B. ZIEBER & CO.

1845.

C. Sherman, Printer, Philadelphia.

PREFACE.

The desire of shortening the period of my separation from a beloved brother, was the first and strongest motive that induced me to think of accompanying him to the country in which I am now writing, and which he was preparing to visit for the third time. An eager curiosity, mainly excited by his own publications, greatly increased this desire; and little persuasion on his part was necessary to draw me to a decision; but the idea was no sooner formed than he found numerous arguments in its favour. The opportunities I might enjoy of obtaining an insight into the mode of life of the higher classes of the ladies in this country, and of seeing many things highly interesting in themselves, and rendered more so by their being accessible only to a lady, suggested to him the idea that I might both gratify my own curiosity, and collect much information of a novel and interesting nature, which he proposed I should embody in a series of familiar letters to a friend. To encourage me to attempt this latter object, he placed at my disposal a large collection of his own unpublished notes, that I might extract from them, and insert in my letters whatever I might think fit; and in order that I might record my impressions and observations with less restraint than I should experience if always feeling that I was writing for the press, he promised me that he would select those letters which he should esteem suitable for publication, and mark them to be copied. The present selection has been made by him; and I fear the reader may think that affection has sometimes biased his judgment; but am encouraged to hope for their favourable reception, for the sake of the more solid matter with which they are interspersed, from the notes of one to whom Egypt has become almost as familiar as England.

Sophia Poole.

CONTENTS.

LETTER I.

LETTER II.

LETTER III.

LETTER IV.

LETTER V.

LETTER VI.

LETTER VII.

LETTER VIII.

LETTER IX.

LETTER X.

LETTER XI.

LETTER XII.

LETTER XIII.

LETTER XIV.

LETTER XV.

LETTER XVI.

LETTER XVII.

LETTER XVIII.

LETTER XIX.

LETTER XX.

LETTER XXI.

LETTER XXII.

LETTER XXIII.

LETTER XXIV.

LETTER XXV.

LETTER XXVI.

LETTER XXVII.

LETTER XXVIII.

THE

ENGLISHWOMAN IN EGYPT.

LETTER I.

Alexandria, July, 1842.

My dear Friend,

The blessing of going into port, at the conclusion of a first long voyage, awakens feelings so deep and so lasting, that it must form a striking era in the life of every traveller. Eagerly, during a long morning, did I and my children strain our eyes as the low uninteresting coast of Egypt spread before our view, that we might catch the first glimpse of one or more of those monuments of which we had hitherto only heard or read. The first object which met our view was the Arab Tower, which stands on a little elevation; and shortly after, the new lighthouse on the peninsula of the Pharos, and the Pasha’s army of windmills, showed our near approach to Alexandria, and the Pillar (commonly called Pompey’s) seemed to rise from the bay.

The coast presents to the Mediterranean a long sandy flat, bearing throughout a most desolate aspect, and in no part more so than in the neighbourhood of Alexandria. To the west of this town we see nothing but a tract of yellowish calcareous rock and sand, with here and there a few stunted palm-trees, which diversify but little the dreary prospect.

The old or western harbour (anciently called Eunostus Portus) is deeper and more secure than the new harbour (which is called Magnus Portus). The former, which was once exclusively appropriated to the vessels of the Muslims, is now open to the ships of all nations; and the latter, which was “the harbour of the infidels,” is almost deserted. The entrance of the old harbour is rendered difficult by reefs of rocks, leaving three natural passages, of which the central has the greatest depth of water. The rocks occasion a most unpleasant swell, from which we all suffered, but I especially; and I cannot describe how thankfully I stepped on shore, having passed the smooth water of the harbour. Here already I see so much upon which to remark, that I must indulge myself by writing two or three letters before our arrival in Cairo, where the state of Arabian society being unaltered by European innovations, I hope to observe much that will interest you with respect to the condition of the native female society. I do not mean to give you many remarks on the manners and customs of the male portion of the people, my brother having written so full a description of them, the correctness of which has been attested by numerous persons, who cannot be suspected (as his sister might be) of undue partiality.

To tell you of our landing, of the various and violent contentions of the Arab boatmen for the conveyance of our party, of our really polite reception at the customhouse, and of our thankfulness when enjoying the quiet of our hotel, would be to detain you from subjects far more interesting; but I long to describe the people by whom we were surrounded, and the noisy crowded streets and lanes through which we passed. The streets, until we arrived at the part of the town inhabited by Franks, were so narrow that it was extremely formidable to meet any thing on our way. They are miserably close, and for the purpose of shade, the inhabitants have in many cases thrown matting from roof to roof, extending across the street, with here and there a small aperture to admit light; but the edges of these apertures are generally broken, and the torn matting hanging down: in short, the whole appearance is gloomy and wretched. I ought not, however, to complain of the narrowness of the streets, for where the sun is not excluded by matting, the deep shade produced by the manner in which the houses are constructed, is most welcome in this sunny land; and, indeed, when we arrived at the Frank part of the town, which is in appearance almost European, and where a wide street and a fine open square, form a singular contrast to the Arab part of the town, we scarcely congratulated ourselves; for the heat was intense, and we hastened to our hotel, and gratefully enjoyed the breeze which played through the apartments. I hear that many persons prefer the climate of Alexandria to that of Cairo, and pronounce it to be more salubrious; but a Caireen tells me that their opinion is false—that it is certainly cooler, but that the air is extremely damp, and although the inhabitants generally enjoy a sea-breeze, that luxury involves some discomfort.

But I must tell you of the people; for there appeared to my first view none but dignified grandees, in every variety of costume, and miserable beggars, so closely assembled in the narrow streets, that it seemed as though they had congregated on the occasion of some public festival. On examining more closely, however, I found many gradations in the style of dress of the middle and higher classes; but the manner of the Eastern (even that of the well-clothed servant) is so distinguished, and their carriage is so superior, that a European glancing for the first time at their picturesque costume, and observing their general bearing, may be perfectly at a loss as to what may be their position in society.

I believe that I have already seen persons of almost every country bordering on the Mediterranean, and I can convey but a very imperfect idea of such a scene. The contrast between the rich and gaudy habits of the higher classes, and the wretched clothing of the barefooted poor, while many children of a large growth are perfectly in a state of nudity, produced a most remarkable effect. The number of persons nearly or entirely blind, and especially the aged blind, affected us exceedingly, but we rejoiced in the evident consideration they received from all who had occasion to make room for them to pass. I should imagine that all who have visited this country have remarked the decided respect which is shown to those who are superior in years; and that this respect is naturally rendered to the beggar as well as to the prince. In fact, the people are educated in the belief that there is honour in the “hoary head,” and this glorious sentiment strengthens with their strength, and beautifully influences their conduct.

Many of the poor little infants called forth painfully my sympathy: their heads drooped languidly; and their listless, emaciated limbs showed too plainly that their little race was nearly run; while the evident tenderness of their mothers made me grieved to think what they might be called on to endure. You will naturally infer that I expect few children to pass the season of infancy, and you will conclude justly; for I cannot look at these little creatures, and suppose that they will survive what is here the most trying time, the season of dentition. I may have been unfortunate; for among the numerous infants we have passed, I have only seen two who were able to hold their heads in an erect position, and, indeed, of those past infancy, most were very wretched-looking children. Over their dark complexions there is white leprous hue, and they have a quiet melancholy manner, and an air of patient endurance, which affected me sensibly.

It is sad to see the evident extreme poverty of the lower orders; and the idle, lounging manner of the working class surprised me: and yet when called on to labour, I am informed that no people work so heartily, and so patiently. I rather think they are very like their good camels in disposition, with the exception that the latter scold often if an attempt be made to overload them, and in some cases will not rise from their knees until relieved of part of their burden, while the Arabs really suffer themselves to be built up with loads as though they had no more sense of oppression than a truck or a wheelbarrow. The Arab groom, too, will run by the side of his master’s horse for as many hours as he requires his attendance without a murmur. The physical strength of these people is most extraordinary. I had an opportunity of remarking this during the removal of our luggage from the boat.

The windows of our hotel command a view of the great square, and I can scarcely describe to you the picturesque attraction of the scene. Among the various peculiarities of dress, feature, and complexion, which characterize the natives of Africa and the East, none are more striking than those which distinguish the noble and hardy western Bedawee, enveloped as he is in his ample woollen shirt, or hooded cloak, and literally clothed suitably for a Russian winter. You will believe that my attention has been directed to the veiled women, exhibiting in their dull disguise no other attraction than a degree of stateliness in their carriage, and a remarkable beauty in their large dark eyes, which, besides being sufficiently distinguished by nature, are rendered more conspicuous by the black border of kohl round the lashes, and by the concealment of the rest of the features. The camel-drivers’ cries of “O’a,” “Guarda,” and “Sákin,”[^[1]] resound every where, and at every moment, therefore, you may imagine the noise and confusion in the streets.

[1]. “Take care,” in Arabic, Italian, and Turkish.

In the open space before the hotel, there are long trains of camels laden with water-skins, or with bales of merchandise, winding slowly and cautiously along even in this wide place, while their noiseless tread, and their dignified (I might almost say affected) walk, at once distinguishes them from all other beasts of burden.

I must not omit mentioning the shops of Alexandria, for they resemble cupboards rather than rooms; and this I understand to be the case in most Turkish and Arabic cities. A raised seat of brick or stone about three feet high, and the same or more in width, extends along each side of the street, and upon this the tradesman sits before his shop, either smoking or at work. It is really amusing to see how easily they appear to gain their livelihood: the fact is, that they are an exceedingly contented people, and there is much of real philosophy in their conclusions. They are seldom disposed, when working on their own account, to labour for more than enough, and have the quality, so rarely found in Europe, of considering that enough is as desirable as abundance: therefore they are happy, and “their best riches, ignorance of wealth.” I have observed, at corners of the streets, or wherever else there was sufficient space, groups of men and women seated on the ground, with baskets before them containing bread and vegetables for sale.

The quarter occupied by the Europeans is the southeastern part of the town, by the shore of the new harbour. This situation I conclude was chosen for the convenience of landing and shipping their merchandise; but now that the old harbour is open to their vessels, the situation is not so advantageous for them. On the east side of the great square is a large building called the New Wekáleh (by the Europeans Occále), for the reception of merchants and others, on the shore of the new harbour. It surrounds a spacious square court; and the ground-floor of the building consists of magazines towards the court, and shops and the entrances of the dwellings towards the exterior.

My brother has given me a piece of information with regard to the present Pharos, which you shall receive in his own words:—

“The modern Pharos is a poor successor of the ancient building, erected by Sostratus Cnidius, from which it derives its name; though from a distance it has rather an imposing appearance. Several Arab historians mention the telescopic mirror of metal which was placed at the summit of the ancient Pharos. In this mirror, vessels might be discerned at sea at a very great distance. El-Makreezee[^[2]] informs us that the Greeks, being desirous of effecting the destruction of the Pharos, or of obtaining possession of the wonderful mirror, employed a deep stratagem. One of their countrymen repaired to the sovereign of the Arabs, El-Weleed the son of ’Abd-el-Melik, and professed himself a convert to the faith of El-Islám, pretending that he had fled from his king, who would have put him to death. He informed the prince that he had acquired, from certain books in his possession, the art of discovering where treasures were concealed in the earth, and had thus ascertained that there was a valuable treasure, consisting of money and jewels, deposited beneath the foundation of the Pharos of Alexandria. The prince, deceived by this artful tale, sent a number of workmen with his crafty adviser to pull down the Pharos; and when more than half the building had been destroyed, the Greek made his escape to his own country, and his artifice thus became manifest. The same author relates that part of the Pharos was thrown down by an earthquake, in the year of the Flight 177 (A. D. 793–4); that Ahmad Ibn-Tooloon surmounted it with a dome of wood; and that an inscription upon a plate of lead was found upon the northern side, buried in the earth, written in ancient Greek characters, every letter of which was a cubit in height, and a span in breadth. This was perhaps the inscription placed by the original architect, and which, according to Strabo, was to this effect—‘Sostratus Cnidius, the son of Dexiphanes, to the protecting gods, for the sake of the mariners.’ It is also related by Es-Sooyootee,[^[3]] that the inhabitants of Alexandria likewise made use of the mirror above mentioned to burn the vessels of their enemies, by directing it so as to reflect the concentrated rays of the sun upon them.”

[2]. El-Makreezee flourished in the 14th and 15th centuries.

[3]. A celebrated Arab theologian and historian, so called from his birth-place Usyoot, or Suyoot (commonly pronounced Asyoot), in Upper Egypt.

The causeway of stone which connects the fort and lighthouse with the peninsula of Pharos, is now called Ródat-et-Teen (or the Garden of the Fig), on account of a few fig-trees growing there. Its southwestern extremity is called Rás-et-Teen (or the Cape of the Fig). Upon this rocky peninsula are a palace of the Pasha, and some other buildings, with the burial-ground of the Muslims, adjacent to the town.

I must endeavour in my next letter to give you a brief general account of the town, and must close this by remarking on the affecting sound of the Mueddin’s chant or Muslim call to prayer. I should be grieved to think that we are impressed by the solemnity of their sonorous voices, simply because we hear them for the first time; and trust we may always feel a mixture of pity and admiration when we believe our fellow-creatures to be in earnest in the service of God, however mistaken their opinions. The sight of the Muslim engaged in his devotions I think most interesting; and it cannot fail, I should hope, in impressing the beholder with some degree of veneration. The attitudes are peculiarly striking and expressive; and the solemn demeanour of the worshipper, who, even in the busy market-place, appears wholly abstracted from the concerns of the world, is very remarkable. The practice of praying in a public place is so general in the East, and attracts so little notice on the part of Muslims, that we must be charitable, and must not regard it as a result of hypocrisy or ostentation.

LETTER II.

Alexandria, July, 1842.

My dear Friend,

We find little to interest us in this place, excepting by association with bygone times; therefore our stay will not be long. But I will give you concisely an account of all that has excited our curiosity.

I am not disappointed in Alexandria (or, as it is called by the natives, El-Iskendereeyeh), for I did not imagine it could possess many attractions. It is built upon a narrow neck of land, which unites the peninsula of Pharos to the continent, and thus forms a double harbour, as did anciently the causeway, which, from its length of seven stadia, was called the Heptastadium.

The ground which is occupied by the modern town has been chiefly formed by a gradual deposit of sand on each side of the Heptastadium; and the present situation is more advantageous for a commercial city than the ancient site. The houses are generally built of white calcareous stone, with a profusion of mortar and plaster. Some have the foundation walls only of stone, and the superstructure of brick. They generally have plain or projecting windows of wooden lattice-work; but the windows of some houses, viz., those of Europeans, the palaces of the Pasha, the Governor of Alexandria, and a few others, are of glass. The roofs are flat and covered with cement. There is little to admire in the interior architecture of the houses, excepting that they have a substantial appearance. Many ancient columns of granite and marble have been used in the construction of the mosques and private dwellings.

The water here is far from good; the inhabitants receive their supply from the cisterns under the site of the ancient city (of which I must tell you by and by). These are filled by subterranean aqueducts from the canal during the time of the greatest height of the Nile; but in consequence of the saline nature of the soil through which it passes from the river, the water is not good. Almost every house has its cistern, which is filled by means of skins borne by camels or asses; and there are many wells of brackish water in the town.

As the northern coast of Egypt has no harbour, excepting those of Alexandria, it is a place of considerable importance as the emporium and key of Egypt; but otherwise it appears to me in no respect a desirable residence, and around it nothing but sea and desert meets the eye, excepting here and there the house of a rich man, and scattered in every direction extensive mounds of rubbish. Ancient writers have extolled the salubrity of the air of Alexandria. This quality of the air was attributed, according to Strabo, to the almost insular situation of the city, the sea being on one side, and the lake Mareotis on the other. The insalubrity of the climate, of later years, has been regarded as the result of the conversion of the lake into a salt marsh. The English army, in 1801, made a cut by which the water of the sea was admitted from the lake of Aboo-Keer into the bed of the lake Mareotis; and the operation was repeated by Mohammed ’Alee in 1803, and again by the English in 1807: on each occasion, as you will have supposed, military policy dictated the measure; and as soon as the object in view had been attained, the gap was speedily closed, as it cut off the supply of fresh water from Alexandria by interrupting the course of the canal. While the communication between the two lakes remained open, it was not found that the climate of Alexandria was at all improved; and the evaporation of the waters of the lake Mareotis afterwards must have had a pernicious effect. The damp and rain during the winter here, and the heavy dew at night throughout the year, have a particularly baneful influence. Cases of fever are very general; and it is always observed that this town is one of the places where the plague makes its appearance many days earlier than in the interior of Egypt. With all these objections to Alexandria as a place of residence, it is wonderful that any persons should prefer it, and consider the climate more agreeable than that of the valley of the Nile, which all allow to be so salubrious.

There is a series of telegraphs from Alexandria to the metropolis, a distance of more than a hundred and twenty British miles. The towers composing this series are nineteen in number; the first is on the peninsula of Pharos, and the last in the citadel of Cairo.

The wall which surrounds the site of the old Arab city was rebuilt not many years since. This work was commenced in 1811. Mohammed ’Alee, fearing another invasion of the French, deemed it necessary to strengthen this place; for the wall I have mentioned defends the town on the land side, and surrounds the cisterns from which the inhabitants derive their supply of fresh water. The wall has four gates, and I cannot describe to you the complete scene of desolation which presented itself on entering the enclosure by that gate, which is nearest to the modern town, the “sea-gate;” indeed, it can scarcely be conceived: for mounds of rubbish and drifted sand occupy nearly the whole site of the ancient city. Within the area surrounded by the present wall, besides some monuments of the ancient city, are two convents and a synagogue, several groups of houses and huts, with a few walled gardens containing chiefly palm-trees.

You will think it strange when I tell you that there are also two lofty hills of rubbish, each of which is surmounted by a fort, commanding an extensive view. It appears to me most extraordinary that any persons should choose such a foundation; but I understand it is far from remarkable, and that these accidental eminences are improved to advantage in this flat country, the face of which in a course of years has undergone important changes, from the habit of the people of leaving crumbling ruins to accumulate. Here the line of the principal street can be traced, extending in a straight direction from the shore of the old harbour to the Gate of Resheed,[^[4]] which is at the eastern extremity of the enclosure; and the direction of the other great street, which crossed the former at right angles, is observable.

[4]. Resheed is the name of the town which the English call Rosetta.

It must have been an extensive city, but it is impossible to mark its precise limits. Certainly its remains alone convey an idea of its having been a flourishing town, and considerably more important than the Arab city which succeeded it.

Desiring to see the obelisks before the heat of the day, we set out early, and having passed the great square, we entered the field of ruins, and found a number of peasants loitering among miserable huts, while a few children, in a state of nudity, and extremely unsightly in form, were standing or sitting in the entrances of their dwellings. I was grieved to see that the bodies of these poor little children were distended to a most unnatural size; while their limbs, which were very thin and small, appeared, from the contrast, to be sadly emaciated.

Among the mounds we observed the mouths of some of the ancient cisterns; each, with few exceptions, having the hollowed marble base of an ancient column placed over it. The cisterns seem to have extended under a great part of the ancient city; and there remain a sufficient number of them open and in good repair for the supply of the modern town. They have arched or vaulted roofs, which are supported by columns or by square pillars, and some of them have two or three ranges of pillars and arches, one above another, and are very extensive.

We saw little worthy of remark until we reached the obelisks, which are situated at an angle of the enclosure, almost close to the shore of the new harbour; I mean those obelisks called Cleopatra’s Needles. Each is composed of a single block of red granite, nearly seventy feet in length, and seven feet and a half wide at the base. And here I wondered, as so many have done before me, that the ancient Egyptians contrived to raise such solid masses, and concluded that their knowledge of machinery, of which they have left such extraordinary proofs, must have been remarkable indeed.

Three lines of hieroglyphics adorn each of the four faces of either monument. My brother tells me that the central line bears the title and name of Thothmos the Third, who appears, from strong evidence, to have reigned shortly before the departure of the Israelites from Egypt: the lateral lines were sculptured at a later period; for they bear the name of Rameses the Great, or Sesostris. The inscriptions near the base of the erect obelisk seemed nearly obliterated, and the prostrate one is so encumbered with rubbish, that much of it is concealed. Pliny relates that Rameses erected four obelisks at Heliopolis: those of Alexandria are perhaps two of the four thus alluded to. Their antiquity being so much greater than that of Alexandria, suggests the probability of their having been taken from Heliopolis to adorn a temple or palace in the new city. The fact of the name of Rameses the Great being sculptured on them may have given rise to the tradition that they were erected by that king. An adjacent fort occupies the site of an old tower which belonged to the former wall (that is, to the old wall of the Arab city), and which was called by European travellers “the Tower of the Romans;” as it was apparently of Roman origin. Near this, standing on a mound of rubbish, we saw the shore of the new harbour, behind the wall on the left of the fort.

When the British army was in Alexandria in 1801, operations were commenced for transporting the fallen obelisk to England; but the commander-in-chief refusing to sanction the undertaking, it was abandoned, and nothing is said of its being resumed, although Mohammed ’Alee offered the monument to us some years ago.

After viewing the obelisks, we thankfully turned homewards, for the sun had risen, and the heat became intense.

Not far from the eastern gate (perhaps two miles and a half) is the field of the memorable battle of the 21st of March, 1801, in which Sir Ralph Abercrombie, who commanded our victorious army, received his mortal wound. At the spot where the battle raged most furiously, by the sea-shore, is a quadrangular enclosure, surrounded by substantial, but now ruined walls, constructed of calcareous stone and large bricks, in distinct layers, like many other Roman buildings. The ruin is called Kasr-el-Káyasireh (or the Pavilion, or Palace, of the Cæsars). It marks the site of a small town, which received the name of Nicopolis, in commemoration of a famous victory obtained there by Octavius Cæsar over Antony.

The pillar called Pompey’s is undoubtedly a magnificent monument. The shaft of the column is a single block of red granite, sixty-eight feet in height, and nine feet in diameter at the bottom, according to my brother’s measurement. The capital is a block of the same kind of stone, and is ten feet high. The base, plinth, and pedestal are likewise of red granite, and each is a single block. The combined length of these three pieces is seventeen feet. The total height of this superb monument is therefore ninety-five feet; and the substructure, which is partly modern, is four feet in height. The shaft is beautifully wrought, but sadly disfigured by numerous names inscribed in very large characters, with black paint. They have mostly been written by persons who have ascended to the summit. This they have contrived by flying a large paper kite, and causing it to descend so that the cord rested on the top of the capital; by these means, they succeeded in drawing a stout rope over it; and having accomplished this (to use the naval term) they easily “rigged shrouds,” by which to ascend. This exploit has been performed several times, generally by naval officers, who have caused the name of their ship to be painted on the shaft.

Among the adventurers, an English lady once ascended to the summit. There is a Greek inscription on the pedestal, but it can only be faintly seen when the rays of the sun fall obliquely upon the surface of the stone. Every traveller who examined the Pillar since the time of Pococke believed the inscription to be entirely obliterated, until Colonel Squire again discovered it. That gentleman with Mr. Hamilton and Colonel Leake deciphered (with the exception of a few characters) the lines, four in number, which record the dedication, by a “Prefect of Egypt” (whose name is almost illegible), to the “most revered Emperor, the protecting divinity of Alexandria, Diocletian the Invincible.” The name of the “Prefect” also has since been deciphered by Sir Gardner Wilkinson—it is Publius. This inscription certainly proves that the column, or the building in which it stood, was dedicated to the Roman emperor whose name is thus recorded, but not that the column was erected in honour of that individual, any more than the lateral lines on the obelisks which I have described prove that they were erected in the reign of Sesostris.

I may here briefly give you the tradition respecting the burning of the Alexandrian library (deriving my information from my brother), which took place in the time of ’Omar, as it is connected with the history of the great pillar. ’Abd-el-Lateef and El-Makreezee affirm, that this pillar originally belonged to a magnificent building, containing a library, which ’Amr, the Arab general, burned by the command of ’Omar. A particular account of the burning of this library is given by Abu-l-Faraj; but the statement of that author has been disbelieved, because the story is related by few other writers; yet why should they record what they considered an event of scarcely any importance? It is evident from the slight manner in which ’Abd-el-Lateef and El-Makreezee mention the fact, that they regarded it as a very unimportant occurrence. They allude to it merely as connected with the history of the great Pillar. The former says, “Here was the library which ’Amr Ibn-el-’A’s burned by permission of ’Omar.” El-Makreezee says, “The Pillar is of a red speckled stone; hard and flinty. There were around it about four hundred columns which Karaja, Governor of Alexandria in the time of the Sultán Saláh-ed-Deen Yoosuf Ibn-Eiyoob (called by Europeans “Saladin”), broke, and threw them into the sea, near the shore, to prevent the vessels of an enemy from approaching the walls of the city. It is said (he adds) that this pillar is one of those which stood in the portico of Aristotle, who there taught philosophy; and that this academy contained a library, which ’Amr Ibn-el-’A’s burned by direction of ’Omar.” The Arab General ’Amr, having taken Alexandria, was solicited by one Johannes, surnamed “the Grammarian,” to spare the library above mentioned, and to suffer it to remain in the possession of its former owners. ’Amr, willing to oblige the philosopher, wrote to his sovereign, desiring to know his pleasure respecting these books, and received the following answer:—“As to the books which you have mentioned, if they contain what is agreeable with the book of God, in the book of God is sufficient without them; and if they contain what is contrary to the book of God, there is no need of them; so give orders for their destruction.” They were accordingly distributed about the city, to be used for heating the baths, and in the space of six months they were consumed. “Hear what happened,” writes Abu-l-Faraj, “and wonder!” The author here quoted does certainly speak of this event as one of lamentable importance; but he was a Christian writer. The Muslims, though they love and encourage many branches of literature, generally imagine that the books of the Christians are useless, or of an evil tendency.

I must now leave Alexandria and its environs, saying a few words respecting the ancient Necropolis, or “City of the Dead,” which I have not seen, being satisfied with my brother’s account of it, and being anxious to proceed to Cairo.

The name of Necropolis has been given to a tract of nearly two miles in length, on the southwest of the site of the ancient city, between the old harbour and the bed of the Lake Mareotis. The sepulchres are all excavated in the rock, which is calcareous, or rather soft. Those my brother saw were small and rudely cut, without painting or any other decorations. One of the catacombs is very spacious. It is the only one that is well worthy of being examined. The principal chamber is described as being of a circular form; and the roof is excavated like the interior of a dome. Around it are three recesses, which were doubtless receptacles for mummies; and around each of these are three troughs cut in the rock, designed to serve as sarcophagi. In other chambers are similar receptacles for the dead. The entrance of the principal, or circular, apartment being ornamented with pilasters and a pediment, it is evident that the period of the formation of the catacomb was posterior to the founding of Alexandria. Along the shore of the harbour are many other excavations, but of small dimensions, which are also sepulchres. Many of them, being partly below the level of the sea, are more or less filled with water; the part of the rock which intervened having crumbled away, and left the interior exposed to the waves. Some of these have been called “the baths of Cleopatra,” though evidently sepulchres like the rest.

And now, if my account of Alexandria and its monuments has been too brief, I must plead as my apology, my anxiety to pursue our route; but I must add, that although the modern Alexandria is the successor of one of the most illustrious cities of ancient times, it disappoints me, and occasions only melancholy reflections.

Truly history confers a deep interest on this spot, once the chief seat of Egyptian learning, the theatre of many wars and bloody tragedies, the scene of the martyrdom of St. Mark, the birth-place and residence of many of the most eminent fathers of the church, and the hot-bed of schisms and heresies. But it is only in retrospect we find that on which our minds can rest, and which can give rise to reflections which may be pursued to advantage.

LETTER III.

Cairo, July, 1842.

My dear Friend,

To-day we have arrived with thankful hearts at Cairo, our voyages by sea and by river completed for a time.

On leaving Alexandria, we engaged an iron track-boat, used chiefly for the conveyance of travellers on their way to India from Alexandria, by the canal called the Mahmoodeeyeh, to the Nile. The boat was very large, containing two large cabins, the foremost of which was furnished with benches and tables, and apparently clean; and being drawn by four horses, passed so rapidly along, that we enjoyed, from the current of air, a feeling of freshness, which led us at nightfall into a grievous mistake; for we laid down, and expected rest without arranging our musquito-curtains. Those who had fitted up the boat had covered the wide benches with carpet. Imagine such a couch in such a latitude! we were positively covered by fleas, and swarmed by black beetles, and the latter of such a growth as are never seen in England. Too late we repented of our error, and I should strongly recommend any person travelling in Egypt to sleep under musquito-curtains winter and summer. There is certainly a consciousness of heat and want of air, for perhaps a quarter of an hour after the curtain is closely tucked in, but what is that compared to the constant attacks of vermin of an extraordinary variety, to which the traveller in the East is subject? Our first night in the track-boat, without musquito-curtains, will not be easily forgotten.[^[5]]

[5]. Since I wrote the above, the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company have, I believe, undertaken the conveyance of travellers from Alexandria to Suez. Be this as it may, it is due to the Company to say, that our voyage from England to Egypt was rendered as pleasant as a splendid vessel, excellent attendance, and every desirable accommodation could make it; and the manner in which travellers are brought through Egypt, on their way to India, is now, I am told, as comfortable as any reasonable person could desire.

On the following morning we arrived at the point where the canal enters the Nile, and found that the boat which we expected would be ready for our voyage to Cairo, had conveyed a party towards the scene of a festival, and might not return for some days. Here our situation was one of severe suffering. We were stationed between two high ridges, composed of mud thrown up in forming the bed of the canal, very dry of course, and exceedingly dusty, and covered with mud huts. The intense heat, the clouds of dust, and the smell of this place, where we were hemmed in by boats and barges for two days and nights, without being able to improve our situation (because it was necessary in order to be ready for the Nile-boat to continue near the entrance of the canal), was infinitely worse than sea-sickness, or any thing else in the way of inconvenience we had hitherto experienced. Indeed the sea-sickness was welcome to me, for it confined me to my bed, and spared me the pain of seeing my own dear country, which holds so many and so much we love, fade from my sight. However long or however short may be the time proposed by any person for the purpose of visiting other countries, however pleasurable their expectations, however full of hope their prospects, there are regrets—there is a pang—on quitting England, which must be felt by the wayfarer, but can never be described, and is never fully anticipated. But I must not wander from my proper subject. Where the canal runs along the narrow neck of land between the salt marsh of Mareotis and that of Aboo-Keer, the sides are formed by solid masses of stone, to prevent, in some degree the filtration of salt water into the Mahmoodeeyeh, as it supplies the cisterns of Alexandria. In scarcely any part does this canal occupy the bed of the ancient canal of Alexandria, which it crosses in several places. More than three hundred thousand men were employed to dig it; and about twelve thousand of these are said to have died in the course of ten months; many of them in consequence of ill-treatment, excessive labour, and the want of wholesome nourishment and good water. Their only implements in this work were the hoes which are commonly used in Egyptian agriculture; and where the soil was moist they scraped it up with their hands, and then removed it in baskets. The whole length of the canal is nearly fifty British miles, and its breadth about eighty or ninety feet. It was commenced and completed in the year 1819. The name of Mahmoodeeyeh was given to it in honour of Mahmoud, the reigning sultán.

In two days our promised boat arrived, and we joyfully left the Mahmoodeeyeh, and its gloomy prospect, where the peasants appeared to be suffering from abject poverty, and where the mud huts, rising one above another, many of them being built in a circular form, bore the appearance by moonlight of the ruined towers of castles, with here and there a gleam of red light issuing from the apertures.

The communication between the canal and the Nile was closed, therefore we walked for a few minutes along the bank, and we rejoiced on entering our boat to feel the sweetest breeze imaginable, and to look upon the green banks (especially on the Delta side) of one of the most famous rivers in the world.

The boats of the Nile are admirably constructed for the navigation of that river. Their great triangular sails are managed with extraordinary facility, which is an advantage of the utmost importance; for the sudden and frequent gusts of wind to which they are subject, require that a sail should be taken in almost in a moment, or the vessel would most probably be overset. On many occasions one side of our boat was completely under water, but the men are so skilful that an accident seldom happens, unless travellers pursue the voyage during the night.

We ordered that our boat should not proceed at night, therefore we were three days on the Nile.

A custom which is always observed by the Arab boatmen at the commencement of a voyage much pleased me. As soon as the wind had filled our large sail, the Reyyis (or captain of the boat) exclaimed “El-Fát-’hah.” This is the title of the opening chapter of the Kur-’an (a short and simple prayer), which the Reyyis and all the crew repeated together in a low tone of voice. Would to Heaven that, in this respect, the example of the poor Muslim might be followed by our countrymen, that our entire dependence on the protecting providence of God might be universally acknowledged, and every journey, and every voyage, be sanctified by prayer.

On the first day we passed the town of Fooweh, where I could distinguish eleven mosques with their picturesque domes and minarets, and a few manufactories; the dwellings are miserable, but when viewed from a little distance the whole has a pleasing appearance, for the minarets are whitewashed, and the houses, for a town in Egypt, have been good. Numbers of women and girls belonging to this town were filling their pitchers on the bank as we passed; while others were washing clothes; which done, each proceeded to wash her hands, face, and feet, and immediately returned with her pitcher or bundle on her head. A piece of rag rolled in the form of a ring, and placed upon the head, served to secure the pitcher in its erect position; and I constantly saw, during our stay on the Mahmoodeeyeh, large and heavy pitchers carried by the women on their heads, without a hand upraised to keep them steady.

Fooweh, like Matoobis, is celebrated for the beauty of its women; but as our boat kept in the middle of the stream, I had no opportunity of pronouncing on their personal attractions. The lower orders are mostly, I think, remarkably plain. Their usual dress (and indeed frequently, their only article of clothing, except the head veil) is a plain blue shirt, differing little from that of the men, which is also commonly blue. It is a general custom of the Egyptian women of this class to tattoo some parts of their persons, particularly the front of the chin and the lips, with blue marks; and like the women of the higher classes, many of them tinge their nails with the dull red dye of the henna, and arrange their hair in a number of small plaits which hang down the back.

I must not omit telling you that Fooweh is also famous for its pomegranates, which are both plentiful and excellent in flavour.

We reached the village of Shubra Kheet shortly after sunset, and as our boatmen recommended that our boat should be made fast under this place, we remained there until the morning. It was then curious to see the various occupations of the peasants, and to observe the lassitude with which they labour. During our voyage several poor fellows floated towards the boat, sitting as it were upright on the water, paddling with their feet, and bearing each three water-melons, one in each hand, and one on their heads. Their manner of swimming is extraordinary—they seem perfectly at their ease.

On the second day we passed renowned Sais, and afterwards had a glimpse of the great desert, and its almost immeasurable sea of sand. Sais was the ancient capital of the Delta, one of the most celebrated cities of Egypt, and the reputed birth-place of Cecrops, who, it is said, led a colony of Saites to Attica, about 1556 years before the Christian era, founded Athens, and established there the worship of Minerva (the Egyptian Neith), the tutelar goddess of his native city. This place is so choked up with rubbish that its ruins are scarcely worth visiting; but the labour of excavation would probably be rewarded by interesting discoveries. The modern name of the place is “Sá-el-Hagar,” that is, “Sais of the Stone,” probably allusive to the great monolithic chapel described by Herodotus as the most remarkable of the monuments here existing in his time. The remains of Sais, viewed from the river, appear merely like lofty and extensive mounds. They chiefly consist of a vast enclosure, about half a mile in length, and nearly the same in breadth. This is formed by walls of prodigious dimensions, being about fifty feet thick, and, in several parts, considerably more than that in height, constructed of large crude bricks, fifteen or sixteen inches in length, eight in breadth, and seven in thickness. The rains, though very rare even in this part of Egypt, have so much decayed these walls, that from a little distance they are hardly to be distinguished from the rubbish in which they are partly buried. Within the enclosure are only seen some enormous blocks of stone, and the remains of some buildings of unburnt brick, which appear to have been tombs, and several catacombs, which have been explored and ransacked. The enclosure contained the famous temple of the Egyptian Minerva, described by Herodotus, the portico of which surpassed in its colossal dimensions all other works of a similar nature, and was adorned with gigantic figures and enormous andro-sphinxes. Before it was the famous monolithic chapel I have mentioned, which was twenty-one cubits long, fourteen wide, and eight high. It is related by Herodotus that two thousand boatmen were employed during the space of three years in transporting this monolith down the Nile from Elephantine. There was also, before the temple, a colossus, in a reclining posture (or, more probably, a sitting posture), seventy-five feet in length, similar to that before the temple of Vulcan at Memphis, which latter colossus was the gift of Amasis. Behind the temple was a sepulchre, but for whom it was destined the historian declines mentioning. Lofty obelisks were likewise raised within the sacred enclosure, near a circular lake, which was lined with stone. This lake served as a kind of theatre for nocturnal exhibitions of solemn mysteries relating to the history of the unnamed person above alluded to, who was, probably, Osiris; for, from feelings of religious awe, many of the Egyptians abstained from mentioning the name of that god. Many other towns in Egypt disputed the honour of being regarded as the burial-place of Osiris. All the Pharaohs born in the Saitic district were buried within the enclosure which surrounded the sacred edifices of Sais; and one of those kings, Apries, founded here a magnificent palace. Of the grand religious festivals which were periodically celebrated in Egypt in ancient times, the third, in point of magnificence, was that of Sais, in honour of Neith; the most splendid being that of Bubastis, and the next, that of Busiris, both in Lower Egypt. That of Sais was called “the festival of burning lamps,” because, on the occasion of its celebration, the houses in that city, and throughout all Egypt, were illuminated by lamps hung around them.

I mentioned that the boat we had been promised at the Mahmoodeeyeh had conveyed a party towards the scene of a festival; and you may be surprised to hear that the manners of the modern Egyptians are not wholly different from those of the ancient Alexandrians, who flocked to the licentious festivals celebrated at Canopus in honour of the god Serapis. Innumerable boats covered the canal by night as well as by day, conveying pilgrims of both sexes, dancing, singing, and drinking, and availing themselves in every way of the religious licence afforded them. So, in the present day, vast numbers of the male inhabitants of the metropolis of Egypt, and persons from other parts, with numerous courtesans, repair to the festivals celebrated in commemoration of the birth of the seyyid[^[6]] Ahmad El-Bedawee (a celebrated Muslim saint), at Tanta, in the Delta, where swarms of dancing-girls and singers contribute to their amusement, and where, I am told, brandy is drunk almost as freely as coffee.

[6]. Seyyid is a title given to the descendants of the Prophet.

We passed, to-day, by the village of Kafr-ez-Zeiyát, which exhibited a busy scene: numerous visitors of the seyyid landing there, on their way to Tanta, and others embarking to return to their homes.

We arrived late at the village of Nadir, under which we remained for the night. In the morning we found ourselves surrounded by fine buffaloes standing in the water. Their milk is chiefly used, and the butter made from it is very white and sweet. We often saw numbers of these animals standing or lying in the water, for the Nile is in many parts extremely shallow, and abounds with moving sandbanks. Hence the boats frequently run aground, but they are generally pushed off without much difficulty by means of poles, or the crew descend into the water and shove the vessel off with their backs and shoulders. In a calm, the boat is towed by the crew; and in several cases during our voyage, the whole boat’s crew, consisting of ten men, were thus drawing it, while no one remained with us but the Reyyis. It was astonishing to see how well they performed this laborious task, in the heat of July; very seldom stopping to take rest, and then only for a short time. The boatmen generally sing while the vessel is under sail, and they often accompany their songs with the rude music of the darebukkeh and zummárah, which are a funnel-shaped earthen drum and a double reed-pipe. There is something very agreeable in the songs of the boatmen, although the airs they sing are most strange. There is so much of contentment in the tones of their voices that it does one good to hear them.

The most common kind of passage-boat, or pleasure-boat, is called a kangeh, also pronounced kanjeh. It is long and narrow, and does not draw much water. It has two masts, with two large triangular sails, and a low cabin, which is generally divided into two or more apartments, having small square windows, which are furnished with blinds, or glasses, and sliding shutters in the inside. In our boat we were exceedingly worried by beetles, bugs, and fleas; and these seriously annoyed me on account of my poor children, whose rest was sadly disturbed, and their very patience and cheerfulness increased our sympathy. Indeed, these young wayfarers made us cast many a longing wish for their sakes towards the comforts of a home.

During the nights our musquito-curtains diminished but did not remove the inconvenience; but they are invaluable, as they prevent all attacks from large reptiles, although bugs and fleas are proof against all precaution.

The boats belonging to the Turkish grandees are very gay: bunches of flowers are commonly painted on the panels of the cabin, both within and without; and the blood-red flag, with its white crescent and star or stars, waves at the stern. Other boats are more simple in their decorations, and all extremely picturesque.

On this day of our voyage, we passed little worthy of remark, excepting, indeed, the groups of noble and graceful palm-trees, which form a characteristic and beautiful feature in every Egyptian landscape. The villages presented a curious effect, from almost every hut being crowned with a conical pigeon-house, constructed of earthen pots. With these cones, frequently as large as the huts themselves, almost every village hereabouts abounds.

We observed many carcasses of cattle floating upon the water, or lying by the banks of the river, for Egypt is at present visited by a severe murrain.[^[7]]

[7]. This murrain lasted more than three months, and reminded us of that in the time of Moses.

During our voyage we saw several instances of mirage (called by the Arabs seráb); but the apparent clearness of the mock water destroyed the illusion; for the Nile, generally turbid, was then particularly so; and it was impossible to strain the imagination so far as to conceive that a clear lake should exist near the banks of the river. Yet it was an interesting and curious phenomenon, and indeed rendered painfully interesting by the knowledge that many a perishing wanderer in the desert had bitterly tasted the disappointment its mimicry occasions.

I can say little of the beauty of the banks of the Nile. They are in many places sufficiently high to obstruct the view, and broken and perpendicular. The Delta side certainly often presented to the eye a sloping bank of refreshing green, but with scarcely any diversity. I am not disposed to underrate the prospect; but you have doubtless heard that the borders of the Nile are seen in all their beauty about a month after the decrease of the river, which has left its fertilizing soil for a considerable space on either side, when its banks seem covered with a carpet of the brightest emerald green, and its little islands are crowned with the most brilliant verdure.

Our voyage was made during its increase; and when, on the third night, our boat was made fast to a sandy island, no village being in the neighbourhood under which the Reyyis thought we could safely pass the night, we all congratulated ourselves and each other that our boating was nearly at an end.

Early on the following morning we descried the venerable Pyramids, but the undulations of the heated atmosphere on the surface of the intermediate plain prevented their being distinctly visible. They were three leagues distant.

We shortly after arrived at Boulak, the principal port of Cairo, and with our arrival came the necessity that I and my sister-in-law should equip ourselves in Eastern costume. There was no small difficulty in this ceremony, and when completed, it was stifling to a degree not to be forgotten. Imagine the face covered closely by a muslin veil, double at the upper part, the eyes only uncovered, and over a dress of coloured silk an overwhelming covering of black silk, extending, in my idea, in every direction; so that, having nothing free but my eyes, I looked with dismay at the high bank I must climb, and the donkey I must mount, which was waiting for me at the summit. Nothing can be more awkward and uncomfortable than this riding-dress; and if I had any chance of attaining my object without assuming it, I should never adopt it; but in English costume I should not gain admittance into many hareems: besides, the knowledge that a Muslim believes a curse to rest on the “seer and the seen,” makes one anxious not to expose passers-by to what they would deem a misfortune, or ourselves to their malediction.

My brother, in his “Modern Egyptians,” has represented the manner in which the habarah is worn by the native ladies of Egypt. The Turkish ladies close it in front, esteeming it improper to show the colour of the sebleh or tób beneath.

The house dress is well suited to the climate and extremely picturesque, but the walking-dress is grotesque and curious.

With a short account of our ride of nearly two miles from Boulak to Cairo, I shall conclude.

All mounted, and preceded by a janissary, we looked in wonder, as we rode through Boulak, at the dilapidated state of this suburb. There are, indeed, good houses there, I am assured, but we had not the good fortune to see them, and we emerged gladly from its narrow streets to an open space, where soon, however, the dust (which rose in clouds from the tread of our easy-paced donkeys) so annoyed us, that for the first time I felt it desirable that nothing but the eyes should be uncovered. At length we fairly entered Cairo, and my astonishment increased tenfold.

I wrote to you that the streets of Alexandria are narrow; they are wide when compared with those of Cairo. The meshreebeeyehs, or projecting windows, facing each other, above the ground-floors, literally touch in some instances; and in many, the opposite windows are within reach.

The first impression received on entering this celebrated city, is, that it has the appearance of having been deserted for perhaps a century, and suddenly repeopled by persons who had been unable, from poverty or some other cause, to repair it, and clear away its antiquated cobwebs. I never saw such cobwebs as hung in many apertures, in gloomy dark festoons, leading me to consider the unmolested condition of their tenants. I wish I could say that I do not fear these creatures; but surely in the insect world there is nothing so savage-looking as a black thick-legged spider.

After passing through several of the streets, into which it appeared as though the dwellings had turned out nearly all their inhabitants, we arrived at an agreeable house situated in the midst of gardens, in which we are to take up our temporary abode. Graceful palm-trees, loaded with their fruit, meet our eyes in every direction, while acacias, bananas, orange and lemon trees, pomegranate trees, and vines, form a splendid variety, and but for one essential drawback, the coup d’œil would be charming. This drawback is the want of refreshing showers. The foliage on which we look is perfectly covered with dust, and the soil of the gardens is watered by a wheel worked by a patient bullock, who pursues his round-about with little intermission, and thrives in his persevering labour.

The plan of the gardens is very curious; they are divided by long parallel walks, with gutters on either side, and subdivided into little square compartments, each about two yards wide, by ridges of earth about half a foot high, and the water is admitted into these squares, one after another. When I looked upon the little ditches and squares of water, remaining for some time without absorption, I could not but remember our bright pretty gardens in England, and how carefully in watering our flowers we avoided saturating the mould, both because it would be injurious to them, and displeasing to the eye—and these recollections almost brought me to the conclusion that a garden in Egypt is not worth the trouble of cultivation—so much for national prejudice and love of home scenes. Adieu!

LETTER IV.

Cairo, August, 1842.

My dear Friend,

Although prepared by the motley groups at Malta, and the changing scene and variety of costume at Alexandria, for much that is more astonishing to the European in Cairo, I find the peculiarities of this place and people are beyond my most extravagant expectations. The Shubra road passes very near our windows, and I am constantly attracted by the various processions which wind their way to and from this city.

The wedding processions, in which the poor bride walks under a canopy of silk, not only veiled, but enveloped in a large shawl, between two other females, amuse me much; while the tribe before the “destined one,” occasionally demonstrate their joy by executing many possible, and, to our ideas, many impossible feats, and the rear is brought up by the contributions of children from many of the houses en route. The bride must, indeed, be nearly suffocated long before she reaches her destination, for she has to walk, frequently almost fainting, under a midday sun, sometimes a long distance, while a few musicians make what is considered melody with drums and shrill hautboys, and attending females scream their zag-háreet (or quavering cries of joy), in deafening discord in her train.

The funeral processions distress me. The corpse of a man is carried in an open bier, with merely a shawl thrown over the body, through which the form is painfully visible. The body of a woman is carried in a covered bier, over which a shawl is laid; and an upright piece of wood, covered also with a shawl, and decorated with ornaments belonging to the female head-dress, rises from the forepart. The corpses of children are borne on this latter kind of bier.

One sound that I heard as a funeral procession approached, I can never forget; it was a cry of such deep sorrow—a sob of such heartfelt distress, that it was clearly distinguished from the wail of the hired women who joined the funeral chorus. We were immediately drawn to the windows, and saw a man leading a procession of women, and bearing in his arms a little dead infant, wrapt merely in a shawl, and travelling to its last earthly home. The cry of agony proceeded, I conclude, from its mother, and could only be wrung from a nearly bursting heart. Contend against me who may, I must ever maintain my opinion, that no love is so deep, no attachment so strong, as that of mother to child, and of child to mother.

The funerals that pass are very numerous; but other spectacles that I see from my windows afford various and endless entertainment, and make me long to look into the houses of this most curious city, as well as into the streets and roads. After much consideration, however, I have determined to defer my intended visits to the hareems of the great, until I shall have acquired some little knowledge of Arabic; for, although Turkish is the language usually spoken in those hareems, Arabic is generally understood by the inmates; and as the latter is the common language of Egypt, some knowledge of it is indispensable to me.

But our first object has been to find a comfortable dwelling; and notwithstanding the kind assistance of numerous friends, my brother has experienced great difficulty in attaining this object. The friendly attention that has been shown to us all is most highly gratifying; and I have already had some experience of the manners and usages of the hareem;, two Syrian ladies having devoted themselves in the most amiable manner to render us every possible service.

After having searched for a house here during a month in vain, we were delighted by the offer of an exceedingly good one, which appeared in almost every respect eligible, and in which we are now residing. But our domestic comfort in this new abode has been disturbed by a singular trouble, which has obliged us to arrange as soon as possible for a removal. The house is an admirable one, being nearly new, though on the old construction; therefore I shall endeavour to give you an idea of the better houses of Cairo by describing this; and some knowledge of the plan of its interior will enable you more fully to understand the annoyance to which we are subjected.

On the ground-floor is a court, open to the sky, round which the apartments extend, gallery above gallery. Round the court are five rooms; one large room (a mandarah) intended for the reception of male guests, with a fountain in the centre; a winter room; a small sleeping-room, for any male guest; a kitchen, and a coffee-room, for servants. On the right hand, immediately on entering the street-door, is the door of the hareem, or the entrance to the stairs leading to the ladies’ apartments; the whole of the house, excepting the apartments of the ground-floor, being considered as the “hareem.” On the first-floor is a marble-paved chamber, with a roof open towards the north, and sloping upwards, conveying into the chamber generally a delightful breeze. There are also five other rooms on the first-floor; and in each of the two principal apartments, the greater portion of the floor, forming about three-fourths, is raised from five to six inches, the depressed portion being paved with marble. The reason for thus laying the floors is, that the outer slippers are left on the depressed portion, and the raised part, which is matted, is not to be defiled with any thing which is unclean. The feet are covered, in addition to the stockings, with a kind of inner slippers, the soles of which, as well as the upper leathers, are of yellow morocco: they are called mezz; and the outer slippers, which are without heels, are styled báboog. The latter, by the way, I am often losing, and I fear I shall continue to do so, for I despair of learning to shuffle, like the ladies of the country. When wearing the riding or walking-dress, the mezz are exchanged for a pair of high morocco socks, and the báboog are worn as usual. They are always pale yellow. The walls throughout are whitewashed, and the ceilings composed of fancifully carved woodwork, in some instances extremely tastefully arranged. Besides the rooms I have mentioned, there are three small marble-paved apartments, forming, en suite, an antechamber, a reclining chamber, and a bath. We little thought, when we congratulated ourselves on this luxury, that it would become the most abominable part of the house. Above are four rooms, the principal one opening to a delightful terrace, which is considerably above most of the surrounding houses; and on this we enjoy our breakfast and supper under the clearest sky in the world; but we always remember that the sweet air which comforts us in the mornings and evenings of our sultry days, blows from the direction of our own dear country; and the thought renders it the more welcome.

We were much surprised, after passing a few days here, to find that our servants were unable to procure any rest during the night; being disturbed by a constant knocking, and by the appearances of what they believed to be an ’efreet, that is, “an evil spirit,” but the term ’efreet is often used to signify “a ghost.” The manner of the servants’ complaint of the latter was very characteristic. Having been much annoyed one morning by a noisy quarrel under our windows, my brother called one of our servants to ascertain how it had arisen, when he replied, “It is a matter of no importance, O Efendee, but the subject which perplexes us is that there is a devil in the bath.” My brother being aware of their superstitious prejudices, replied, “Well, is there a bath in the world that you do not believe to be a resort of evil spirits, according to the well-known tradition on that subject?” “True, O my master,” rejoined the man, “the case is so; this devil has long been the resident of the house, and he will never permit any other tenant to retain its quiet possession; for a long time no one has remained more than a month within these walls, excepting the last person who lived here, and he, though he had soldiers and slaves, could not stay longer than about nine months; for the devil disturbed his family all night.” I must here tell you that during our short stay in the house, two maids had left us, one after another, without giving us any idea of their intentions, and had never returned, and the cause of their sudden disappearance was now explained by the men, their fellow-servants. Certainly our own rest had been grievously disturbed; but we had attributed all the annoyance to a neighbour’s extraordinary demonstrations of joy on the subject of his own marriage, and whose festivities were perhaps the more extravagant because he is an old man, and his bride a young girl: but as I hope to give you a particular account, on a future occasion, of the manner in which the people of this country celebrate a marriage, suffice it to say at present, the noise was deafening during the whole of eight nights, and that, when we were becoming accustomed to the constant din, we were roused by three tremendous reports of fire-arms, which rung through the apartments of our own and the neighbouring houses, and shook our dwelling to the very foundation. It is therefore not remarkable that we did not hear the noises which disturbed our poor servants, in addition to the sufficient uproar without.

It appeared, on inquiry, that the man to whom this house formerly belonged, and who is now dead, had during his residence in it, murdered a poor tradesman who entered the court with his merchandise, and two slaves: one of these (a black girl) was destroyed in the bath, and you will easily understand how far such a story as this, and a true one too, sheds its influence on the minds of a people who are superstitious to a proverb. We can only regret that my brother engaged the house in ignorance of these circumstances; had he known them, he would also have been aware that the prejudice among the lower orders would be insurmountable, and that no female servant would remain with us. The sudden disappearance of our maids was thus quaintly explained by our doorkeeper. “Why did A’mineh and Zeyneb leave you?” “Verily, O my master, because they feared for their security. When A’mineh saw the ’efreet she said at once, ‘I must quit this house; for if he touch me, I shall be deranged, and unfit for service;’ and truly,” he added, “this would have been the case. For ourselves, as men, we fear not; but we fear for the hareem. Surely you will consider their situation, and quit this house.” This (he thought) was putting the matter in the strongest light. “Try a few nights longer,” my brother said, “and call me as soon as the ’efreet appears to-night; we might have caught him last night, when you say he was so near you, and after giving him a sound beating, you would not have found your rest disturbed.” At this remark it was evident that the respect of both servants for their master had received a temporary shock. “O Efendee,” exclaimed one of them, “this is an ’efreet, and not a son of Adam, as you seem to suppose. He assumed last night all imaginary shapes, and when I raised my hand to seize him, he became a piece of cord, or any other trifle.” Now these men are valuable servants, and we should be sorry to lose them, especially in our present predicament; therefore my brother merely answered, that if the annoyance did not cease, he would make inquiry respecting another house. But to obtain a house, excepting in the heart of the city, is no easy matter; and on account of my children, we feel it to be indispensable for the preservation of their health that we should reside on the west side of the city, and close to the outskirts, where the air is pure and salubrious, and where Ibraheem Pasha has caused the mounds of rubbish to be removed, and succeeded by extensive plantations of olive, palm, cypress, acacia, and other trees. These plantations are open to the public, and form a charming place of resort for children.

I have not mentioned to you that the inhuman wretch to whom this house belonged bequeathed it to a mosque, perhaps as an expiation for his crimes, but left it, for the term of her life, to the person who is our present land-lady; and now a circumstance was explained to our minds which we had not before fully understood. On the day before we desired to remove here, we sent one of our servants to hire some women, and to superintend the clearing of the house; and on his arrival there the land-lady (whose name is Lálah-Zár, or bed of tulips) refused him admission, saying, “Return to the Efendee, and say to him that I am baking cakes in the oven of his kitchen, that I may give them away to-morrow at the tomb of the late owner of the house, to the poor and needy. This is a meritorious act for your master’s sake, as well as for my own, and your master will understand it.”

Poor woman! it is now evident to us that she hoped by this act of propitiation to prevent farther annoyance to her tenants, and consequent loss to herself.

The morning after the conversation I have related took place, the servants’ report was considerably improved. They had passed, they said, a comfortable night, and we hoped we might arrange to remain here, but the following day a most singular statement awaited us. The doorkeeper, in a tone of considerable alarm, said that he had been unable to sleep at all; that the ’efreet had walked round the gallery all night in clogs![^[8]] and had repeatedly knocked at his door with a brick, or some other hard substance. Then followed the question why one of the men had not called my brother, evidently because neither of them dared pass the gallery round which the supposed ’efreet was taking his midnight walk, striking each door violently as he passed it. For many nights these noises continued, and many evenings they began before we retired to rest, and as we could never find the offender, I sadly feared for my children; not for their personal safety, but lest they should incline to superstition, and nothing impoverishes the mind so much as such a tendency.

[8]. Clogs are always worn in the bath.

Another singular circumstance attending this most provoking annoyance was our finding, on several successive mornings, five or six pieces of charcoal laid at the door leading to the chambers in which we sleep; conveying in this country a wish, or rather an imprecation, which is far from agreeable, viz.: “May your faces be blackened.” However, under all these circumstances, I rejoiced to find my children increasingly amused by these pranks, and established in the belief that one or more wicked persons liked the house so well, that they resolved to gain possession, and to eject by dint of sundry noises, and other annoyances, any persons who desire its occupation. It is, however, a more serious matter to poor Lálah-Zár than to us; for it is very certain that the legacy of the late possessor will never prove a great benefit either to her or the mosque. You will be surprised when I tell you that the rent of such a house as this does not exceed 12l. per annum. It is a very superior house, and infinitely beyond the usual run of houses, therefore always styled by the people of the country, the house of an Emeer (a Nobleman).

One thing we much regretted, that A’mineh (whom I mentioned early in this letter) had taken fright. She was the best of our maids; and her gentle respectful manners, and the perfect propriety of her demeanour, made her a very desirable attendant. I am sorry to say we have met with no other, but those who have proved themselves in every respect inefficient. The men-servants are excellent, and become attached to their masters almost invariably, when treated as they deserve; but as to the maids, I scarcely know how to describe them. I really do not think they hardly ever wash themselves, excepting when they go to the bath, which is once in about ten days or a fortnight. On these occasions a complete scouring takes place (I can find no other term for the operation of the bath), and their long hair is arranged in many small plaits: from that time until the next visit to the bath, their hair is never unplaited. I speak from having watched with dismay all we have had, excepting A’mineh, who was a jewel among them, and from the information of all our friends in this country. These maids are extremely deceitful, and when directed with regard to their work, will answer with the most abject submission, although really disheartened by the most ordinary occupation. They sleep in their clothes, after the manner of the country, and the habit of doing so, coupled with the neglect of proper washing, involving a want of that freshness produced by a complete change of clothes, is especially objectionable. Were they strict in their religious observances, their cleanliness would be secured, as frequent ablutions are ordered in their code of law; but the lower orders of the women have seldom any religion at all.

Believe me, you are fortunate in England, in this respect, as well as many others, and I hope you will prize our English maids, if you have not done so already.

LETTER V.

September, 1842.

My dear Friend,

That you may be better prepared for future letters, you wish me to give you a general physical sketch of this most singular country, which is distinguished by its natural characteristics, as well as by its monuments of antiquity, from every other region of the globe. As my own experience will not enable me to do so, my brother has promised to furnish me with the necessary information.

The country (as well as the metropolis) is called Masr, by its modern inhabitants. It is generally divided into Upper and Lower. Upper Egypt, or the Sa’eed, may be described as a long winding valley, containing a soil of amazing fertility, bounded throughout its whole length by mountainous and sandy wastes.

Lower Egypt is an extensive plain, for the most part cultivated, and copiously supplied with moisture by the divided streams of the Nile, and by numerous canals. All the cultivable soil of Egypt owes its existence to the Nile, by which it is still annually augmented: for this river, when swollen by the summer rains which regularly drench the countries between the northern limits of the Sennár and the equinoctial line, is impregnated with rich earth washed down from the mountains of Abyssinia and the neighbouring regions; and in its course through Nubia and Egypt, where rain is a rare phenomenon, it deposits a copious sediment, both in the channel in which it constantly flows, and upon the tracts which it annually inundates. It is every where bordered by cultivated fields, excepting in a few places, where it is closely hemmed in by the mountains, or the drifted sand of the desert. The mud of the Nile, analyzed by Regnault, was found to consist of 11 parts in 100 of water; 48 of alumine; 18 of carbonate of lime; 9 of carbon; 6 of oxide of iron; 4 of silex; and 4 of carbonate of magnesia.

The Nile is called in Egypt “El-Bahr” (or “the river”); for bahr signifies a “great river,” as well as the sea. It is also called “Bahr en Neel” (or “the river Nile”), and “Neel Masr” (or “the Nile of Egypt”). The Arabs, generally believe the “Neel Masr” to be a continuation of the “Neel es-Soodán” (or “Nile of the Negroes”).

Of the two great branches, called “El-Bahr el-Azrak” (or “the blue river”), and “El-Bahr el-Abyad” (or “the white river”), which, uniting, form the Nile of Nubia and Egypt, the former (though less long than the other) is that to which Egypt principally owes its fertility. Its chief characteristics (its colour, the banks between which it flows, &c.) are similar to those of the Nile of Egypt. Its dark colour, arising from its being impregnated with soil during the greater part of the year, has caused it to receive the name of “the blue river,” while the other branch, from the opposite colour of its waters, is called “the white river.” The latter is considerably wider than the former; its banks are sloping lawns, richly wooded, and very unlike the steep and broken banks of the Nile of Egypt.

At its entrance into the valley of Egypt, the Nile is obstructed by innumerable rocks of granite, which cause a succession of cataracts, or rather rapids. The mountains on the east of the river, as well the islands in it, are here of granite: those on the western side are of sandstone. From this point, to the distance of thirty leagues southward, sandstone mountains of small altitude extend on each side of the river. The valley, so far, is very narrow, particularly throughout the upper half of the sandstone district; and there is but very little cultivable land on the banks of the river in that part; in some places the mountains are close to the stream; and in others, only a narrow sandy strip intervenes. At the distance of twelve leagues below the cataracts, the river is contracted to little more than half its usual width, by the mountains on each side. Here are extensive quarries, from which were taken the materials for the construction of many of the temples in the Thebais. This part is called “Gebel es-Silsileh,” or “the Mountain of the Chain.” Where the calcareous district begins, are two insulated hills (El-Gebelyn) on the west of the Nile; one of them close to the river, and the other at a little distance behind the former. The valley then becomes wider, and more irregular in its direction; and the Nile winds through the middle of the cultivable land, or nearly so. Afterwards the valley assumes a less serpentine form, and the river flows along the eastern side; in many places washing the sides of the precipitous mountains. The calcareous district continues to the end of the valley, where the mountains on both sides diverge; the Arabian chain running due east to Suez, and the western hills extending in a northwest direction, towards the Mediterranean. Near the termination of the valley is an opening in the low western mountains, through which a canal conveys the waters of the Nile into the fertile province of El-Feiyoom. On the northwest of this province is a great lake, which receives the superfluous waters during the inundation. The length of the valley of Egypt, from the cataracts to the metropolis, is about 450 geographical miles. The distance by the river is above 500 miles from the cataracts to the metropolis, and about 400 miles from Thebes to the same point. The difference in latitude between the cataracts and the metropolis is six degrees, or 360 geographical miles; and the distance from the latter point to the sea, in a straight line, is rather more than ninety miles. The width of the valley is in few parts more than eight or ten miles; and generally less than that. The width of that part of Lower Egypt which constituted the ancient Delta, is about 120 miles from east to west.

The whole of the fertile country is very flat; but the lands in the vicinity of the river are rather higher than those which are more remote. This has been supposed to result from a greater deposit of mud upon the former; which, however, cannot be the case, for it is observed that the fields near the river are generally above the reach of the inundation, while those towards the mountains are abundantly overflowed; but while the latter yield but one crop, the former are cultivated throughout the whole year; and it is the constant cultivation and frequent watering (which is done by artificial means) that so considerably raise the soil; not so much by the deposit of mud left by the water, as by the accumulation of stubble and manure. The cultivable soil throughout Egypt is free from stones, excepting in parts immediately adjacent to the desert. It almost every where abounds with nitre.

Between the cultivable land and the mountains, there generally intervenes a desert space, too high to be inundated. This tract partly consists of sand and pebbles, covering a bed of rock, and partly of drifted sand which has encroached on the cultivable soil. In some places, this desert space is two or three miles in width.

The extent of the cultivated land in Egypt, my brother calculates to be equal to rather more than one square degree and a half; in other words 5,500 square geographical miles.[^[9]] This is less than half the extent of the land which is comprised within the confines of the desert; for many parts within the limits of the cultivable land are too high to be inundated, and consequently are not cultivated; and other parts, particularly in Lower Egypt, are occupied by lakes, or marshes, or drifted sand. Allowances also must be made for the space which is occupied by towns and villages, the river, canals, &c. Lower Egypt comprises about the same extent of cultivated land as the whole of Upper Egypt.[^[10]]

[9]. He made this calculation from a list of all the towns and villages in Egypt, and the extent of cultivated land belonging to each. This list is appended to De Sacy’s “Abd Allatif.” It was made in the year of the Flight 777 (A.D. 1375–6); and may be rather underrated than the reverse. The estimate of M. Mengin shows that in 1821, the extent of the cultivated land was much less; but since that period, considerable tracts of waste land have been rendered fertile.

[10]. The term “sharákee” is applied to those lands which are above the reach of the inundation, and the term “rei” to the rest.

The annual inundation irrigates the land sufficiently for one crop; but not without any labour of the fellah (or agriculturist): for care must be taken to detain the water by means of dams, or it would subside too soon. The highest rise of the Nile ever known would scarcely be sufficient if the waters were allowed to drain off the fields when the river itself falls. A very high rise of the Nile is, indeed, an event not less calamitous than a very scanty rise; for it overflows vast tracts of land which cannot be drained, it washes down many of the mud-built villages, the huts of which are composed of unburnt bricks, and occasions an awful loss of lives as well as property. Moreover the plague seldom visits Egypt excepting after a very high rise of the Nile. It is, however, far from being an invariable consequence of such an event. When the river begins to rise, all the canals are cleared out, each is closed by a dam of earth at the entrance, and opened when the Nile has nearly attained its greatest height, towards the end of September. When the river begins to fall the canals are closed again, that they may retain the water. The lands that are not inundated by the overflowing of the Nile are irrigated artificially, if sufficiently near to the river, or to a canal.

As all the cultivable soil of Egypt has been deposited by the river, it might be expected that the land would at length rise so high as to be above the reach of the inundation; but the bed of the river rises at the same time, and in the same degree.

At Thebes, the Nile rises about thirty-six feet; at the cataracts about forty; at Rosetta, owing to the proximity of the mouth, it only rises to the height of about three feet and a half. The Nile begins to rise in the end of June, or the beginning of July; that is to say, about, or soon after, the summer solstice, and attains its greatest height in the end of September, or sometimes (but rarely) in the beginning of October; that is, in other words, about or soon after the autumnal equinox. During the first three months of its decrease, it loses about half the height it had attained; and during the remaining six months, it falls more and more slowly. It generally remains not longer than three or four days at its maximum, and the same length of time at its minimum: it may therefore be said to be three months on the increase, and nine months gradually falling. It often remains without any apparent increase or diminution, at other times than those of its greatest or least elevation, and is subject to other slight irregularities. The Nile becomes turbid a little before its rise is apparent, and soon after it assumes a green hue, which it retains more than a fortnight. Its water is extremely delicious even when it is most impregnated with earth; but then the Egyptians (excepting the lower orders) usually leave it to settle before they drink it, and put it in porous earthen bottles, which cool it by evaporation. While the Nile is green, the people generally abstain from drinking the water fresh from the river, having recourse to a supply previously drawn, and kept in cisterns.

The width of the Nile where there are no islands is in few parts more than half a mile. The branches which enclose the Delta are not so wide, generally speaking, as the undivided stream above; and the river is as wide in most parts of Upper Egypt as in the lower extremity of the valley.

The rapidity of the current when the waters are low is not greater than the rate of a mile and a quarter in an hour; but during the higher state of the river, the current is very rapid, and while vessels with furled sails are carried down by the stream with great speed, others ascend the river at an almost equal rate, favoured by the strong northerly winds, which prevail most when the current is most rapid. When the river is low, the wind from the north is often more powerful than the current, and vessels cannot then descend the stream even with the help of oars.

I believe that I shall have occasion to add a few more words on the Nile some days hence, when I hope to send you the remainder of the general sketch.

Meanwhile, believe me to remain, &c.

LETTER VI.

October 13th, 1842.

My dear Friend,

Since I last wrote to you, the weather has continued intensely hot; but during the last three days almost constant lightning throughout the evening, though succeeded by excessive heat during the nights, has given us hope of speedy relief. This heat is attributed to the present state of the Nile, which has continued most unusually increasing up to this time (the 13th of October), and given rise to serious apprehensions; for unless the water drain quickly off the land when the river begins to fall, it is feared that a severe plague may ensue. In such a case, we propose going up to Thebes for four months, but we earnestly hope it may please Almighty God to avert so dreadful a calamity as a pestilence must inevitably prove. I now resume the sketch I left unfinished in my last letter.

The climate of Egypt is generally very salubrious. The extraordinary dryness of the atmosphere (excepting in the maritime parts) is proved by the wonderful state of preservation in which bread, meal, fruits, &c., have been found in the tombs of ancient Thebes, after having been deposited there two or three thousand years. The ancient monuments of Egypt have suffered very little from the weather: the colours with which some of them are adorned retain almost their pristine brightness. There arises from the waters of the fields a considerable exhalation (though not often visible), during the inundation, and for some months afterwards; but even then it seems perfectly dry immediately within the skirts of the desert, where most of the monuments of antiquity are situated.[^[11]]

The heat in Egypt is very great; but not so oppressive as might be imagined, on account of that extreme dryness of the atmosphere of which I have spoken, and the prevalence of northerly breezes.[^[12]]

[11]. The damp at this period, slight as it is, occasions ophthalmia, diarrhœa, and dysentery, to be more prevalent now than at other times.

[12]. The general height of the thermometer (Fahrenheit’s) in Lower Egypt during the hot season, at noon, and in the shade, is from 90° to 100°; in Upper Egypt, from 100° to 110°; and in Nubia, from 110° to 120°, and even 130°, though in few years. In the latter country, if placed in the sand and exposed to the sun, the thermometer often rises to 150° or more. The temperature of Lower Egypt in the depth of winter is from 50° to 60°.

Rain is a very rare phenomenon in the valley of Egypt. In the Sa’eed, a heavy rain falls not oftener, on the average, than once in four or five years. My brother witnessed such an occurrence at Thebes, a tremendous storm of lightning and rain, in the autumn of 1827. Lightning is frequently seen, but thunder is seldom heard. On that occasion it was quite terrific, and lasted throughout a whole night. The torrents which pour down the sides and ravines of the naked mountains which hem in the valley of Egypt, on these occasions, though so rare, leave very conspicuous traces. Here, in Cairo, and in the neighbouring parts, there fall on the average four or five smart showers in the year, and those generally during the winter and spring. Most unusually (but this is in every respect an unusual season), it rained heavily on the night of the 30th of September. A heavy rain very rarely falls, and when it does, much damage is done to the houses. In the maritime parts of Egypt, rain is not so unfrequent.

The prevalence of the northwesterly wind is one of the most remarkable advantages of climate the Egyptians enjoy. The northwest breeze is ever refreshing and salubrious, beneficial to vegetation, and of the greatest importance in facilitating the Nile at almost every season of the year, and particularly during that period when the river is rising, and the current consequently the most rapid. During the first three months of the decrease of the river, that is, from the autumnal equinox to the winter-solstice, the wind is rather variable; sometimes blowing from the west, south, or east; but still the northerly winds are most frequent. During the next three months the wind is more variable; and during the last three months of the decrease of the river, from the vernal equinox to the summer solstice, winds from the south, or southeast, often hot and very oppressive, are frequent, but of short duration.

During a period called “El-Khamáseen,” hot southerly winds are very frequent, and particularly noxious. This period is said to commence on the day after the Coptic festival of Easter-Sunday, and to terminate on Whit-Sunday; thus continuing forty-nine days. It generally begins in the latter part of April, and lasts during the whole of May. This is the most unhealthy season in Egypt; and while it lasts the inhabitants are apprehensive of being visited by the plague; but their fears cease on the termination of that period. It is remarkable that we have already suffered much from the hot wind, for it is most unusual at this season. During July and August it was frequently distressing; and I can only compare it to the blast from a furnace, rendering every article of furniture literally hot, and always continuing three days. Having, happily, glass windows, we closed them in the direction of the wind, and found the close atmosphere infinitely more bearable than the heated blast. This was a season of extreme anxiety, being quite an unexpected ordeal for my children; but, I thank God, excepting slight indisposition, they escaped unhurt.

The “Samoom,” which is a very violent, hot, and almost suffocating wind, is of more rare occurrence than the Khamáseen winds, and of shorter duration; its continuance being more brief in proportion to the intensity of its parching heat, and the impetuosity of its course. Its direction is generally from the southeast, or south-southeast. It is commonly preceded by a fearful calm. As it approaches, the atmosphere assumes a yellowish hue, tinged with red; the sun appears of a deep blood colour, and gradually becomes quite concealed before the hot blast is felt in its full violence. The sand and dust raised by the wind add to the gloom, and increase the painful effects of the heat and rarity of the air. Respiration becomes uneasy, perspiration seems to be entirely stopped; the tongue is dry, the skin parched, and a prickling sensation is experienced, as if caused by electric sparks. It is sometimes impossible for a person to remain erect, on account of the force of the wind; and the sand and dust oblige all who are exposed to it to keep their eyes closed. It is, however, most distressing when it overtakes travellers in the desert. My brother encountered at Koos, in Upper Egypt, a samoom which was said to be one of the most violent ever witnessed. It lasted less than half an hour, and a very violent samoom seldom continues longer. My brother is of opinion that, although it is extremely distressing, it can never prove fatal, unless to persons already brought almost to the point of death by disease, fatigue, thirst, or some other cause. The poor camel seems to suffer from it equally with his master; and will often lie down with his back to the wind, close his eyes, stretch out his long neck upon the ground, and so remain until the storm has passed over.

Another very remarkable phenomenon is the “Zóba’ah,” and very common in Egypt, and in the adjacent deserts. It is a whirlwind, which raises the sand or dust in the form of a pillar, generally of immense height.[^[13]] These whirling pillars of sand (of which my brother has seen more than twelve in one day, and often two or three at a time during the spring) are carried sometimes with great rapidity across the deserts and fields of Egypt, and over the river. My brother’s boat was twice crossed by a zóba’ah; but on each occasion its approach was seen, and necessary precautions were taken: both the sails were let fly a few moments before it reached the boat; but the boxes and cushions in the cabin were thrown down by the sudden heeling of the vessel, and every thing was covered with sand and dust.

[13]. “I measured” (says my brother) “the height of a zóba’ah, with a sextant, at Thebes, under circumstances which insured a very near approximation to perfect accuracy (observing its altitude from an elevated spot, at the precise moment when it passed through, and violently agitated, a distant group of palm-trees), and found it to be seven hundred and fifty feet. I think that several zóba’ahs I have seen were of greater height. Others which I measured at the same place were between five and seven hundred feet in height.”—Modern Egyptians, 3d Edition, Part I. chap. x.

The “Saráb,” called by Europeans “mirage,” which resembles a lake, and is so frequently seen in the desert, tantalizing the thirsty traveller, I mentioned to you in a former letter. The illusion is often perfect, the objects within and beyond the apparent lake being reflected by it with the utmost precision. You probably know that the reflection is produced by a heated stratum of air upon the glowing surface of a plain, and you may have seen something of the same kind in England.

The fields in the vicinity of the river, and of the great canals, are irrigated by means of machines at all seasons of the year, if not subject to the natural inundation. For a description of these, I refer you to the “Modern Egyptians,” 3d edition, Part II., chap. i.; and I will now conclude this letter with a concise physical and agricultural calendar of Egypt, drawn up by my brother from Arabic works, and from his own observations.

January.—The mean temperature in the afternoon during this month at Cairo is about 60°. The waters which, during the season of the inundation, had been retained upon the fields by means of dams, have now sunk into the soil; but water still remains in some of the large canals, their mouths having been stopped up. The river has lost about half the height it had attained; that is to say, it had sunk about twelve feet in and about the latitude of Cairo. The wind at this season, and throughout the winter, is very variable; but the northerly winds are most frequent. People should now abstain from eating fowls, and all crude and cold vegetables. The poppy is sown. It is unwholesome to drink water during the night at this season, and throughout the winter. The fifth Coptic month (Toobeh) begins on the 8th or 9th of January.[^[14]] Now is the season of extreme cold. Beef should not be eaten at this period. The fields begin to be covered with verdure. The vines are trained. Carrots are plentiful. Onions sown. The date-plum sown. The ripe sugar-canes cut.

[14]. See a note on the beginning of the first Coptic month, in September. The Egyptians (Muslims as well as Christians) still divide the seasons by the Coptic months; but for dates, in their writings, they generally use the lunar Mohammedan months.

February.—The mean temperature in the afternoon during this month at Cairo is about 66°. End of the season of extreme cold.[^[15]] The fields every where throughout Egypt are covered with verdure. The sixth Coptic month (Amsheer) begins on the 7th or 8th of February. Warm water should be drunk fasting at this season. The wind very variable. The harvest of beans. The pomegranate tree blossoms. Vines are planted. Trees put forth their leaves. The season of the winds which bring rain, called el-Cawákeh. The cold ceases to be severe.

[15]. Such is the statement of the Egyptian almanacs; but there are generally as cold days in the month of Amsheer as in Toobeh, and sometimes colder.

March.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 68°. End of the season for planting trees. The seventh Coptic month (Barmahát) begins on the 9th of March, Variable and tempestuous winds. The Vernal Equinox. During the quarter now commencing the river continues decreasing; the wind often blows from the south or southeast; and the samoom winds (from the same quarters) occur most frequently during this period; the plague also generally visits Egypt at this season, if at all. The weather becomes mild. Northerly winds become prevalent. The wheat-harvest begins. Lentils are reaped; cotton, sesame, and indigo sown; and the sugar-cane planted. The barley-harvest begins.

April.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 76°. Time for taking medicine. The eighth Coptic month (Barmoodeh) begins on the 8th of April. Samoom winds. Time for the fecundation of the date-palm. Rice sown. The wheat-harvest in Lower Egypt. Beginning of the first season for sowing millet. The Khamáseen winds generally commence in this month.

May.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 85°. The Khamáseen winds prevail principally during this month; and the season is consequently unhealthy. Winter clothing disused. The ninth Coptic month (Beshens) begins on the 8th of May. Time for taking medicine, and losing blood. Season of the yellow water-melon. Cucumbers sown. The apricot bears; and the mulberry. Turnips sown. End of the first season for sowing millet. The apricot ripens. Beginning of the season of great heat. Beginning also of the season of hot winds, called “el-bawáreh,” which prevail during forty days.

June.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 94°. Strong northerly winds prevail about this time. The water of the Nile becomes turbid, but does not yet begin to rise. The tenth Coptic month (Ba-ooneh) begins on the 7th of June. The banana sown. Samoom winds. Strong perfumes (as musk, &c.) are disused now, and throughout the summer. The yellow water-melon abundant. The plague, if any existed previously, now ceases. Honey collected. People should abstain from drinking the water of the Nile at this season for fifteen days,[^[16]] unless first boiled. “The drop” (en nuktah) descends into the Nile, and, according to popular belief, causes it to increase soon after;[^[17]] this is said to happen on the 11th of Ba-ooneh, which corresponds with the 17th of June: it is the day before the Coptic festival of Michael the Archangel. The flesh of the kid is preferred at this season, and until the end of summer. Samoom winds blow occasionally during a period of seventy days now commencing. The Summer Solstice; when the day is fourteen hours long in Lower Egypt. During the quarter now beginning (i. e. during the period of the increase of the Nile) northerly winds prevail almost uninterruptedly, excepting at night, when it is generally calm. Though the heat is great, this quarter is the most healthy season of the year. The Nile begins to rise now, or a few days earlier or later. The season for grapes and figs commences. Peaches plentiful.

[16]. Commencing from the 10th of Ba-ooneh (or the 16th of June).

[17]. It is really a heavy dew which falls about this time.

July.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 98°. The rise of the Nile is now daily proclaimed in the metropolis. Locusts die, or disappear, in every part of Egypt. The eleventh Coptic month (Ebeeb) begins on the 7th of July. Violent northerly winds prevail for fifteen days.[^[18]] Honey abundant. People should abstain from eating plentifully at this season. The noonday heat is now excessive. Ophthalmia prevails now, but not so much now as in the autumn. The bawáheer, or seven days of extreme heat, fall at the end of this month.[^[19]] Grapes and figs abundant. Maize is now sown. Harvest of the first crop of millet. The date ripens.

[18]. Fleas disappear now; and if you can form a just idea of the annoyance they occasion, you will not think the insertion of this information unimportant.

[19]. They are said to commence on the 20th of Ebeeb, or 26th of July.

August.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 92°. Season for pressing grapes. The last Coptic month (Misra) begins on the 6th of August. Onions should not be eaten at this time. Radishes and carrots sown. Cold water should be drunk, fasting. Water-melons plentiful. The season for gathering cotton. The pomegranate ripens. Violent northerly winds. Sweetmeats should not be eaten at this time. “The wedding of the Nile” takes place on the 14th, or one of the five following days of the month of Misra (the 19th to the 24th of August); this is when the dam of earth which closes the entrance of the canal of Cairo is broken down; it having been first announced that the river has risen (in the latitude of the metropolis) sixteen cubits, which is an exaggeration.[^[20]] Second season for sowing millet. Musquitoes abound now. End of the seventy days in which samoom winds frequently occur.

[20]. The true rise at this period is about 19 or 20 feet; the river, therefore, has yet to rise about 4 or 5 feet more, on the average.

September.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 88°. White beet and turnip sown. Windy weather. The beginning of the month Toot—the first of the Coptic year; corresponding with the 10th or 11th of September, according as five or six intercalary days are added at the end of the Coptic year preceding.[^[21]] Ripe dates abundant, and limes. Windy weather. The Autumnal Equinox.; The Nile is now, or a few days later, at its greatest height; and all the canals are opened. During the quarter now commencing (i. e. during the first three months of the decrease of the river), the wind is very variable; often blowing from the west, and sometimes from the south. The exhalations from the alluvial soil, in consequence of the inundation, occasion ophthalmia, diarrhœa, and dysentery to be more prevalent in this quarter than at other seasons. Harvest of sesame.

[21]. “Five intercalary days are added at the end of three successive years; and six at the end of the fourth year. The Coptic leap-year immediately precedes ours: therefore, the Coptic year begins on the 11th of September, only when it is the next after their leap-year; or when our next ensuing year is a leap-year: and consequently after the following February, the corresponding days of the Coptic and our months will be the same as in other years. The Copts begin their reckoning from the era of Diocletian, A. D. 284.”—Modern Egyptians, Part I., chap. ix.

October.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 80°. The leaves of trees become yellow. Green sugar-canes cut, to be sucked. Drinking water at night, after sleep, is pernicious at this season. The henna-leaves gathered. Winter vegetables sown. The second Coptic month (Bábeh) begins on the 10th or 11th of October. Wheat, barley, lentils, beans, lupins, chick-peas, kidney-beans, trefoil, fenugreek, colewort, lettuce, and safflower are sown now, or a little later. Bleeding is injurious now. The dews resulting from the inundation increase.

November.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 72°. The cold during the latter part of the night is now pernicious. The third Coptic month (Katoor) begins on the 9th or 10th of November. Rain is now expected in Lower Egypt. The “mereesee,” or south wind, prevalent. The rice-harvest. The maize-harvest, and second harvest of millet. Winter-clothing assumed. Bananas plentiful.

December.—Mean temperature in the afternoon during this month, at Cairo, about 68°. Tempestuous and cloudy weather. Strong perfumes, as musk, ambergris, &c., are agreeable now. The fourth Coptic month (Kiyahk) begins on the 9th or 10th of December. The leaves of trees fall. The Winter Solstice; when the day is ten hours long in Lower Egypt. The wind is variable during this quarter. Beginning of the season for planting trees. Fleas multiply. The vines are pruned. Beef is not considered wholesome food at this season.

LETTER VII.

October 18th, Ramadán, 1842.

My dear Friend,

The leading topic of conversation in this country, at the present time, is the state of the Nile, which has hitherto (to the 18th of October) continued rising, and occasioned a general fear that a severe plague will ensue on the subsiding of the inundation. In 1818, it rose until the 16th of October; but never so late since that time, nor for a considerable period before. Our house is flooded in the lower part; and in some of the streets of Cairo, the water is within a foot of the surface, while it has entered many of the houses.

This is the 12th day of Ramadán, or the month of abstinence; and I do heartily pity those who observe the fast, for the weather is again intensely hot, and it is marvellous how any person can observe the law, denying himself from daybreak to sunset even a draught of water. I really think there are very many conscientious fasters; and it would interest you exceedingly to walk through the streets of Cairo during this month, and observe the varieties of deportment visible among the people. Some are sitting idly, holding an ornamented stick, or with a string of beads in their hands. Boys, fasting for the first time, and even men, are endeavouring to distract their attention with the most childish toys; while many are exhibiting, in various ways, that fasting does not improve their tempers.

Some days since, as it drew near the hour of sunset, an aged couple were passing near our present dwelling, the old woman leading her blind husband by the hand, and carrying his pipe, that it might be ready for him as soon as the law should allow him to enjoy it. Bent as they were by age and infirmity, it was sad to see that they were evidently among the fasters, and it was a sight to excite compassion and respect; for as so many of the aged sink into their last earthly home, when the month of abstinence has passed, the fear that they too might prove martyrs to the requirements of their religion was far from groundless, and naturally present to the mind of the observer.

The great among the Muslims in general turn night into day during Ramadán; therefore they are seldom seen in the streets. Most of them sleep from daybreak until the afternoon; while others break their fast in private. I do not think that this is done by the lower orders; and no one can hear the cry of joy which rings and echoes through the city at sunset, when, in token that the fasting is over, for at least some hours, a cannon is discharged from the citadel, without rejoicing with the people, that another day of Ramadán has passed. But no sound is so imposing as the night-call to prayer from the numerous menarets. I mentioned to you our impressions on hearing it first at Alexandria; but here, in Cairo, it is infinitely more striking. On some occasions, when the wind is favourable, we can hear perhaps a hundred voices, in solemn, and indeed harmonious, concert. Here the Mueddins, raised between earth and heaven, call on their fellow-creatures to worship Heaven’s God; and oh! as their voices are borne on the night-wind, let the silent prayer of every Christian who hears them ascend to a throne of grace for mercy on their behalf. They are more especially objects of pity, because they have the light of the Gospel in their land; but how is that light obscured! prejudice, and (shall I write it?) the conduct of many Europeans dwelling among them, and calling themselves Christians, have blinded their eyes, and because of the sins of others, the true Christian spends his strength in vain. Far be it from me to cast a sweeping censure, but our respectable and respected friends here will join me as I raise my voice against those nominal Christians, who, by their profligacy, prove ever “rocks a-head” to the already prejudiced Muslim. This always important city may now be ranked among “men’s thoroughfares” in a wide sense, and we must only hope that the day may come when the phrase, “these are Christians,” will no longer convey reproach.