Not many hundred feet from the pyramids, on a somewhat lower plain, stands that colossal mystery, the Sphinx. The Arabs call it "The Father of Terror," and it certainly has a most weird, unworldly look. Its body, and most of the head, is hewn out of the solid rock where it stands, the upper portion forming the head and bust of a human being, to which is added the paws and body of an animal. The great size of the figure will be realized when we recall the fact that the face is thirty feet long and half as wide. The body is in a reclining, or rather a sitting posture, with the paws extended forward some fifty feet or more. This strange figure is believed to be of much greater antiquity than the pyramids, but no one knows how old it is. Notwithstanding its mutilated condition, showing the furrows of time, the features have still a sad, tranquil expression, the whole reminding us, in its apparent purpose, of the great bronze image Dai-Butsu at Kamakura, though it is some five thousand years older, at least, than the Japanese figure. There is also the foundation of an ancient temple near at hand, the upper portion of the structure having long since crumbled to dust. This is supposed to have been in some way connected with the great statue, half animal and half human in form. Ages ago, from a sanctuary between the lion-like paws of the sphinx, sacrifices were undoubtedly offered, as archæologists believe, of human beings, to the divinity it was designed to represent. Here, for five or six thousand years, more or less, this strange figure has remained unchanged in the midst of change, through ancient Ethiopian dynasties, mediæval battles, and pestilences; even to our day, calm, unalterable, crumbling in parts, but still bodily extant, and doubtless the oldest known object erected by the hand of man.
In a visit to the house of our guide in Cairo, an intelligent Turk, who wore the full traditional costume of his people, and was a person of some note, though not above receiving eight francs per day for his services, it was interesting to observe the domestic arrangements, which he assured us were similar to those of most of his neighbors. The rooms were of various heights, and irregular in formation, requiring one to constantly ascend or descend a couple of steps in passing from one room to another, no two being of the same height, – a most incongruous arrangement, the object of which was not apparent. The placing of the windows in the dwelling also struck us as being very odd, until the explanation that the design was to prevent being overlooked by one's neighbors. The guide touched a secret spring and showed a door, where we should not have supposed one to exist, leading into a dark, descending passage to the rear and outside of the house. This, he explained, was designed to afford an escape in case of emergency, and was only known to the builder and himself. "All houses in Cairo have some such passages," he remarked. A few minutes later, in a dark corner, a secret door was caused to open, half the size of the first, and to which he pointed mysteriously. "And what is this for?" we asked. "It is to hide treasures in, and to secrete one's self in haste, when desirable," he replied. One would suppose that the universality of these architectural secrets would rob them of all security or usefulness. There was one portion of the house not open to us, which was, as may be supposed, the apartments occupied by Mustapha's wives, of whom he acknowledged to have four behind the latticed blinds of the overhanging balcony.
Although there are plenty of schools in Cairo, such as they are, only boys are taught to read and write in them. Girls, even among the wealthy classes, are not taught, as a rule, the simplest rudiments of education. They, however, acquire some accomplishments of a domestic character, – such as sewing, embroidery, – and often play upon some simple musical instrument of a string character. We saw in Mustapha's house a mandolin which was evidently used by the women of the harem.
The Mosque of Mehemet Ali, with its tapering minarets overlooking all Cairo, was found to be quite a modern edifice, scarcely more than half a century in age, but it is a very remarkable and beautiful structure, and of great cost. The spacious building is lined throughout with Oriental alabaster, and the exterior is of the same costly finish. There is the sarcophagus of Mehemet Ali, the most enlightened of modern Egyptian rulers, before which lamps are burning perpetually. The interior of this mosque in its combined effect seemed to be the most effective, architecturally, of any temple of the sort which we had visited. There is a height, breadth, and solemn dignity in its aspect, which earnestly impresses one. The exterior is much less striking, but yet admirably balanced and harmonized. The lofty situation of the mosque commands one of the most interesting views that can well be conceived of. The city, with its countless minarets and domed mosques, its public buildings and tree-adorned squares, its section of mud-colored houses and terraced roofs, lies in the form of a crescent at the visitor's feet, while the plains of Lower Egypt stretch far away in all directions. The tombs of the Memlooks lie close at hand, full of suggestiveness, as also does the lonely column of Heliopolis, four thousand years old, marking the site of the famous "City of the Sun." Beyond and towards the sea is the land of Goshen, where the sons of Jacob fed their flocks. A little more westerly in the mysterious Nile is seen the well-wooded island of Roda, quietly nestling in the broad bosom of the river. The grand Aqueduct, with its high arches reaching for miles, reminds one of the Campagna at Rome; while beyond loom up the time-defying pyramids, the horizon ending at the borders of the great Libyan Desert. Far away to the southwest a forest of palms dimly marks the site of dead and buried Memphis, where Joseph interpreted a monarch's dream. Twilight was approaching when we were there The half-suppressed hum of a dense Eastern population came up from the busy, low-lying city, and a strange, sensuous flavor of sandal-wood, musk, and attar of roses floated upon the golden haze of the sunset, indelibly fixing the Oriental scene on the memory.
A visit to the Shoobra Palace, in the environs of Cairo, took us over a fine road and through a shady avenue of sycamores and lebbec-trees, the latter remarkable for its umbrageous character. This is the favorite drive of the citizens at twilight, where every known modern style of carriage may be met, from the Khedive's equipages, four-in-hand, and those of the ladies of his harem, to the single English gig or dog-cart. There are also the light American trotting wagons, elegant European barouches, mingled with equestrians upon spirited Arab horses; also people mounted upon nice donkeys, – for some of these animals are highly bred. Again, richly caparisoned camels from the Khedive's stables occasionally heighten the Eastern aspect of the scene, which recalled the Maidan of Calcutta most vividly. The roadway is not devoid of pedestrians, who come to see and to be seen. In short, the Shoobra Road is the Rotten Row of Cairo. Even here fashion steps in after her arbitrary manner, and establishes Friday and Sunday afternoons as the "swell" days for riding or driving on the avenue. But we started for the Khedive's Palace, and have stopped to gossip by the way.
The Summer Palace at Shoobra is surrounded by beautiful gardens, to visit which a permit is required from city officials; but not being thus prepared, a little silver was found to be equally effective with the obliging custodian. The apartments of the palace are numerous and elegantly furnished, in a mixed Turkish and European style, with divans, lounges, chairs, tables of inlaid marble, and massive curtains mingled with silk and satin hangings. The grand drawing-room was furnished in gold and white satin; the ladies' parlor in green satin and silver; each anteroom in different colors; all gorgeous, and a little fantastic. The great number of mirrors was almost confusing; and French clocks, two in some rooms, stared at one from all directions. The mirrors produced a serious danger by their reflected perspective, and one was liable to walk boldly into them. In the centre of the palace was an area open to the sky, upon which doors and windows faced, after the Moorish style, as at Cordova and Toledo, in the centre of which was an artificial lake formed by a huge marble basin, the whole surrounded by corridors of white marble. Here were placed divans, lounges, and luxurious chairs, besides many choice plants in richly ornamented porcelain vases, evidently forming the domestic lounging place of the family. We observed an American piano in a cozy little room opening upon this corridor, and a billiard-table in another. In the extensive grounds surrounding the palace, landscape-gardening and modern floral effects have been finely carried out by a skilled foreigner, who had been imported for this special purpose from Versailles. The variety of fruit was really remarkable, embracing orange, lemon, banana, fig, peach, and pear-trees, and a great variety of choice flowers were in their glory. The peach-trees, – it was late in February, – well-divided about the long, broad paths, were in full splendor of blossom, dotting the whole view with huge clusters of pink flowers delightful to the eye. The walks were clean, nicely cared for, and the shrubbery admirably trimmed, though there was no attempt at Chinese grotesqueness in shape and figures. Nature was permitted to follow her own sweet will as to form and luxuriousness of growth, filling the air with a mingled perfume of roses, heliotrope, and lemon-verbena. As we left the grounds each was presented with a bouquet by the disinterested (?) gardener.
The exhibition of Egyptian antiquities in the Cairo Museum is the most extensive and complete collection in existence, affording historic data of priceless value to the antiquarian. Here we have tangible history taking us back four thousand five hundred years before the coming of Christ, representing not only the art and culture, but also the religion of those remote periods, even to the days of Menes, the first recorded king. A wooden statue over four thousand years old, recovered from Memphis, launches one's imagination upon a busy train of thought. Here were curious tables, papyrus, bronze images, mummies, sculptures from stone, objects relating to domestic life, arms, rings, combs, vases, and many other articles which were in use four thousand years ago. By the Boulak Museum it is easily proved that the glory of Egyptian art belonged to the age of Cheops, its decadence to that of Rameses II. The collection, as we have intimated, throws a light upon Egyptian life and history for nearly five thousand years before the Christian era, but it is only a dim light. There can be but little consecutive reading of these isolated mementos. They afford us information as to generalities only, yet add link after link to a chain connecting those long past centuries with the present time.
The Mosque of Amer, some twelve centuries in age, though little more than a ruin, is still of considerable interest to the traveler. One enters the walls of an oblong court, the east end being formed of a gallery with columns inclosing the sanctuary. The north and south sides are inclosed by piazzas with many noble columns. There are two hundred and fifty of these, formed of single stones of granite and porphyry, which are known to have come from Memphis and Heliopolis. The whole deserted temple constitutes the most important monument of Arabian architecture in Cairo. Seen as it was in the dull gray of early morning, before the sun had fairly lighted the well-preserved minarets, it presented a solemn picture of faded glory. It is quite as much in their suggestiveness as in what they exhibit to the eye, that these decaying monuments interest and instruct us. The mosque was erected by the general whose name it bears, and was one of the few that escaped, five centuries later, the fire by which the Saracens burned Cairo to prevent its falling into the hands of the invading Christians.
Let us not forget to mention a brief visit to those strange fanatics, the whirling dervishes, in witnessing whose singular movements one is at a loss whether to sigh or to laugh. To the young the performance suggests that of the circus, and until wearied of the monotony of it, is perhaps as amusing; but to this more thoughtful observer it is melancholy to see men so debase themselves. The ring in which these people whirl about was full of deluded men, on the day of our visit, self-proclaimed disciples. About twenty of them commenced at a signal to turn rapidly about on their heels and toes, without a moment's pause, for a period of some thirty or forty minutes, to the monotonous notes of a fife and a sort of Chinese tom-tom, until finally their brains became addled, and they fell to the ground in a species of trance, their active devotion being supposed to have thus successfully terminated. The howling dervishes, seen in another temple, form a different branch of a similar style of worship or fanaticism; if possible, still more senseless than that already described. The bodily motion of the howlers is different, and is accompanied by a hoarse, disagreeable howling, like that of a pack of half-starved wolves, except that it is done to a certain musical accompaniment, enabling the participants to keep time, both as to the motion of the body and the hideous noise which they make. The motion is that of throwing the head and upper portion of the body forward, and bringing it back with a sudden jerk, which would, under ordinary circumstances, break a man's neck, but these creatures are used to it. The dervishes wear their hair long, which adds to their crazy appearance, by covering their faces with it during the jerking process, the hair flying back and forth with each movement. What the ecstatic point is in this ridiculous performance was not apparent, and they did not tumble down overcome by unconsciousness. It is supposed that all travelers visit them, but we came away more punished than entertained or interested in the senseless exhibition.
A week was all too brief a period to pass in the Queen City of the East, but at its close we started by rail for Ismailia, the little town which is located exactly midway on the great canal between the two seas, at the Bitter Lakes, through which the canal runs. It is a pretty and attractive place of four or five thousand inhabitants, and is a creation of the last sixteen years. Here we observed gardens filled with flowers and fruit trees; vegetation being in its most verdant dress, promoted by irrigation from the neighboring fresh-water canal. The place has broad macadamized streets, and a capacious central square ornamented with large and thrifty trees. It was here that the representatives of all nations met on the occasion of the inauguration ceremony on the completion of De Lesseps' grand canal. We took a small mail steamer at Ismailia through the western half of the canal to Port Said, which is the Mediterranean terminus of the great artificial river. It was a night trip, but had it been by daylight would have afforded us no views. We passed onward between two lofty hills of sand, the sky only visible overhead, and no vegetation whatever in sight; no birds, no animals, nothing to vary the monotony, but an occasional dredging machine, when we stopped at what are called watering-stations. The reader needs hardly to be told that this successful enterprise of cutting a canal across the Isthmus of Suez has proved a vast and increasing advantage to the commerce of the world. Large as it is, and under the best of management, it has already proved insufficient for the business which it has created, rendering a second parallel water-way imperatively necessary, plans for which are now under consideration. At present, so large is the demand upon its facilities that "blocks" and serious delays are of daily occurrence. That there will be ample and remunerative business for two canals is easily demonstrable by the statistics of the original company, which show a most remarkable annual increase. It is a singular fact worthy of mention, that, with all our modern improvements and progressive ideas, the Egyptians were centuries before us in this plan of shortening the path of commerce between the East and the West, or, in other words, of connecting the Red Sea with that of the Mediterranean across the Isthmus and through the Gulf of Suez.
Government engineers determined the difference of level between the two seas by careful processes, and the investigation showed that there was hardly a perceptible variation between the Mediterranean and the arm of the Indian Ocean formed by the Red Sea. The same fact has been scientifically settled regarding the Isthmus of Panama; while measurements along the Pyrenees have established the same level between the waters of the Mediterranean and the Bay of Biscay. The traveler in navigating these several waters cannot but realize an interest in such important physical facts.
The only business of Port Said is that connected directly or indirectly with the transshipment of vessels to and from the Red Sea by way of Suez. The town contains nothing of interest, and is a mere sandy plain. The languages spoken are French and Arabic. There are, counting the floating population, some eight thousand people here, not more, composed of every possible nationality; while the social status is at as low an ebb as it can possibly be. The region is perfectly barren, – like Egypt nearly everywhere away from the valley of the Nile, which enriches an extent of ten or twelve miles on either side of its course by the annual overflow, to an amount hardly to be realized without witnessing its effect. The question often suggested itself as to how camels, donkeys, and goats could pick up sufficient nourishment, outside of this fertile belt, to sustain life. Through that part of the desert which we passed in coming from Suez one looked in vain for any continuous sign of vegetation. A peculiarity of the land is the entire absence of woods and forests; hence also the absence of wild beasts, only hyenas, jackals, and wolves being found. Here and there, at long intervals, an oasis was observed like a smile breaking over the arid face of nature upon which a settled gloom rested nearly all the while. Once or twice there was seen a cluster of solitary palms by a rude stone wall, hedged in by a little patch of green earth, about which a few camels and goats were quenching their thirst or cropping the scanty herbage. Some Arabs, in picturesque costumes, lingered hard by. The tents, pitched in the background, were of the same low, flat-topped, coarse camel's hair construction as these desert tribes have used for thousands of years. Such groups formed true Egyptian pictures, which are so often seen delineated on canvas.
Egypt has only her ruins, her antiquity, her Biblical associations to give her interest with the world at large. Japan is infinitely to be preferred in any light of contemplation; China, even, rivals her in all natural advantages; and India is much more inviting. In looking at Egypt we must forget her present and recall her past. The real Egypt is not the vast territory which we shall find laid down by the geographers, reaching to the Indian Ocean, the Red Sea, and embracing equatorial regions; it is and was, even in the days of the Pharaohs and Ptolomies, the valley of the Nile, from the First Cataract to the Mediterranean Sea, hemmed in by the Libyan and Arabian deserts. From hence came to the rest of the world so much of art, science, and philosophy; and here were built those time-defying monuments which to-day challenge the wonder of the world.
The native Egyptian, the fellah, he who tills the soil, who cultivates by irrigation and gathers the rich crops of the valley, is of a fine and industrious race, well-built, broad-chested, and always of lithe frame, altogether a fine looking and vigorous figure. He has a manly, oval face, a broad brow, and a bronzed complexion, with brilliant eyes, fine teeth, and naturally luxuriant beard. He is the same figure his ancestors were six thousand years ago, as represented on the tombs and temples of Thebes, and on the slabs of Gizeh in the Museum at Cairo. He still performs his work in the nineteenth century just as he did before the days of Moses, scattering the seed and working the shadoof. He is little seen in the cities; his place is in the field; there he lives and thrives. Though his native land has found such various masters in Greek and Roman, Arab and Turk, he has never lost his individuality. He has ever been, and is to-day, the same historic Egyptian. If he were a horse in place of a man, we should say of him that he was of a pure, uncontaminated breed. The women when young are very handsome, beauty being the first present Nature gives them and the first she takes away. They are exquisite in form, and with a most graceful gait, common to nearly all Eastern women, who, from childhood, carry jars of water upon their heads, thus inducing the perfection of carriage. It made us feel almost angry to see them tattooed, their nostrils and ears pierced with rings, and awkwardly bedecked with cheap jewelry, like their cruder sisters of the Malay Archipelago. These women are frequently mothers at the age of fourteen, and work as industriously in the field as at the domestic hearth. The words "domestic hearth" are used in a conventional manner, as their houses generally consist of one room, devoid of windows, and a door so low as to render it necessary to stoop in order to enter. This door is the only piece of wood in the structure, which is composed of sun-dried clay. These dens, so utterly unfit for human beings, are dark and dirty, but the people live and sleep much in the open air. Such abodes are the natural outgrowth of degradation and ignorance.
We waited four days at Port Said for the arrival of the P. and O. steamship Rome, as she was detained by one of the numerous "blocks" in the canal, but finally embarked on her for Malta and Gibraltar. The Rome is a five thousand-ton ship, and the favorite of this company's extensive fleet. Four days' sail, covering about a thousand miles, over the erratic waters of the Mediterranean, now calm and now enraged, brought us in sight of Malta. The city of Valetta lies immediately on the shore; and when we dropped anchor in the snug little harbor, we were surrounded by lofty forts, frowning batteries, and high stone buildings of various sorts. There are two harbors, in fact, known as Quarantine Harbor and Great Harbor. The Rome lay in the former. The island is about twenty miles long and half as wide, and had a place in historical record nearly three thousand years ago. We were not prepared, upon landing, to find so large, and fine a city, numbering, as Valetta does, at least a hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants. The houses are all large stone structures, many of which are architecturally noticeable; fronting thoroughfares of good width, well-paved, and in fine order, an aspect of cleanliness and freshness pervading everything.
Few countries have known so many changes among their rulers as has this Mediterranean island. Phœnicians, Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, Goths, and Arabs succeeded each other before our era, followed by German, French, Spanish, and English rulers. During the sovereignty of the Grand Masters it suffered the curse of the Inquisition, until the Knights were deposed by the French, and that hateful and bloody agent of the Romish Church was expelled. Not more heterogeneous are the nationalities under which the island has been held than is the character of its dialects; indeed, we have never seen written Maltese, which, as spoken by the populace, is a mixture of Arabic and Eastern dialects. Italian, French, and English are equally in use, but the latter, being now the official tongue, takes precedence among the educated classes.
The garrison is formed of some three or four thousand British troops. Many of the streets run up the steep hill-side on which the town stands, and are flanked by broad stone steps for foot passengers, the roadway being quite inaccessible for vehicles. The principal thoroughfare is the Strada Reale, nearly a mile long, flanked by fine and attractive stores, shops displaying choice fancy goods, jewelry, silks, and laces; also by dwelling-houses and hotels; in short, forming a busy and handsome boulevard. All the dwelling-houses over the stores are ornamented by pleasant iron balconies, where the residents can sit and enjoy the cool evening breezes after the hot days that linger about Malta nearly all the year round. It was observed that the town was lighted by a complete gas system. There is a large and imposing stone opera house, of fine architectural aspect, ornamented with Corinthian columns, a wide portico, and broad steps leading up to the same. A visit to the Church of St. John was very interesting. It was built a little over three hundred years since by the Knights, who lavished large sums of money upon its erection and elaborate ornamentation. Statuary and paintings of rare merit abound within its walls, and gold and silver ornaments render the altar a work of great aggregate value. The entire roof of the church, which is divided into zones, is admirably painted by figures of such proportions as to look of life size from the floor, representing prominent Scriptural scenes. The excellence, finish, and naturalness of the figures challenged special attention; it was difficult not to believe them to be in bas-relief. On inquiring as to their authorship, we were told that they were the work of Mattia Preli, an enthusiastic artist, who spent his life in this adornment, refusing all remuneration for his labor, content to live frugally that he might thus exemplify his art and his devotion. He certainly excelled any artist with whom we are acquainted in causing figures painted on a flat surface to appear to the spectator far below them to stand out with statuesque effect. In this Church of St. John, the Knights seemed to have vied with each other in adding to its ornaments and its treasures, so that the rich marbles, bas-reliefs, and mosaics are almost confusing in their abundance. The floor is closely ornamented with inlaid marble slabs, which cover the tombs of the most distinguished Knights of the order of St. John.
The famous Dome of Mosta, a hamlet some three or four miles from Valetta, was pointed out to us. It seems curious that this village church should be crowned by a dome larger than that of the Pantheon or St. Peter's, but such is the fact. It is built of the yellow stone of which the whole island consists. We did not visit Mosta, but were told that it was a small and miserable place. The story of the church is this: An ancient edifice of the same character stood upon the spot, but a new one of larger dimensions was needed to accommodate the people. It was essential that it should be on the same site, but the old one could not be removed until the new one was ready. To meet this difficulty the modern structure was built over the old one, and so this remarkable dome was erected without scaffolding within. Its proportions did not seem particularly fine, but the size is most remarkable. It may be mentioned, however, that Malta has some ten or more beautifully-formed domes, looming up into the azure which hangs over the Mediterranean.
We were told that snow is not known in Malta, but that ice sometimes forms during the coldest nights of winter, though only in thin layers, the climate appearing to be very similar to that of southern Italy. It was early in March, but the trees were in full bloom, and a pleasant appreciation has led the citizens to plant and cultivate fruit trees and flowers in abundance. Among the fragrant blossoms, quick to catch the eye, were those of the peach, pear, orange, and apple. Indeed, Valetta seemed to be clothed in blossoms, and in the case of the orange-trees the ripe fruit was also to be seen in rich yellow plumpness. There must be a prevailing refinement of taste in this island city, otherwise the abundance of flowers offered on the Strada Reale would not find purchasers. Several kiosks were observed erected along the main thoroughfare, whose occupants were busy making up button-hole bouquets, as well as arranging larger ones in picturesque combinations. There is a place near the harbor named Casal Attand, that is, the "Village of Roses." Casal, in Maltese, signifies village; and there is also Casal Luca, the "Village of Poplars;" and still another, Casal Zebbug, the "Village of Olives." A simple but very appropriate system of nomenclature.
There are three islands in the Malta group: Malta, Gozo, and Comino, the two latter being so small as to be of comparatively little importance, and the circumference of the whole, judging by the scale of the maps, must be less than a hundred miles. The trade of the place is small, though it exports some fruits, olives, and laces, the latter a specialty. Visitors always leave more or less money in exchange for small mementos of the island, and thus aid in the support of the various fancy goods stores, photograph, and jewelry shops on the Strada Reale. The Palace of the Grand Knights of Malta, whose interesting story has so long entered into history and romance, is the most inviting object to the traveler, – in its associations quite as interesting as any modern palace. One enters the lofty corridors with a throng of historical recollections crowding upon the memory. It is a large stone building, rather imposing in its exterior, and within is divided into roomy vestibules, picture-galleries, banqueting hall, hall of justice, hall of council, chapel, and several other state apartments. The council chamber is hung in Gobelin tapestry of great original cost and beauty, imported from France nearly three centuries ago. These remarkable hangings are crowded with colossal figures representing scenes in India, Africa, Europe, and America, in the latter of which were some manifest crudities. The whole is in a singularly good state of preservation, both as regards color and texture.