Railway — Arab Villages — Nile Bridges — Cairo

Alexandria, Saturday, Jan. 5. 1856. — This morning at nine we left Alexandria for Cairo by railway. Some hours before this the morning had been chill, the thermometer at 50’, and the dew heavy upon the leaf; but ere we reached the station, we were warm enough, and were glad to find that the carriages (made at Birmingham, we observed) were wide and airy. Some brief notes of this journey may not be without interest, as it was one of the first runs which the railway had made. It was strange to be rushing at the rate of twenty-five miles an hour in such a conveyance through the land of the Pharaohs. Well might the camel and the bullock-cart and the Nile-boat stare at us! Which of them had ever made the journey to Cairo in seven hours? All of them together could not do it in less than three days.

The line takes its way at first on a long embankment through the lake Mareotis, so that we seemed to be shootiDg through water. Nile-boats and canal-boats, “with their lateen sails, moved quietly up and down, undisturbed by the rush of our engine. Perhaps it is to this sea-like lake that reference is made by the jDrophet (Isa. xix. 5-10), —

“The waters shall fail from the sea,” for it is no longer what it once was, and looks more like a very sluggish pool than a “lake” or “sea;” —

“The river shall he wasted and dried up,” —

for neither is “old Nile” what it was in Pharaoh’s days.

They shall turn the rivers far away;

The well-defended canals shall he emptied and dried up;

The reeds and flags shall wither, *

The paper reeds (perhaps “meadows”) by the river,

Fy the brink of the river (where Moses was put).

Everj-thing sown by the river

Shall wither, be driven away, and be no more.

The scenes through which we went in our journey to-day seemed, each one, an illustration of these verses. All has come to pass. Egypt is now but the dried-up skin of the great “Leviathan,” the “flying serpent,” the “crooked serpent,” the “dragon,” which Jehovah has slain by his “sore and great and strong sword,” (Isa. xxvii. 1), and left to wither upon the face of its own sun-baked slime.

* Here the description of Shakspeare comes out, when he says,

... the vagabond flag upon the stream
Goes to and back lackeying the varjlng tide
To rot itself with motion...

The fire

That quickens Nilus’ slime,

is still blazing in the old sky, but the fruitfulness of tho soil is decayed. What Egypt may become is not for us to say, but what it is, one may easily see by a journey from Alexandria to Cairo. We passed through immense swamps or flats, with occasional verdure where cows and buffaloes were feeding. In a little came to a native village, — its houses low, — built of mud, and roofed with turf, like a cluster of dirt-heaps, — not fit for stables. Like other Egyptian villages, it is built on a slight eminence or mound of mud, to prevent its being swamped or carried off by the Nile in its overflow. Out of one oi the holes which were meant for doors came a little naked fellow, who, over-estimating his power of speed, tried to keep up with our train: and no doubt felt discomfited at his want of success, — for what animal had he ever seen that could have competed with him on a race along these sunburnt plains? As we halted at the first station, which is about half an hour’s run from Alexandria, the natives gathered round us, looking on us with wonder and interest, but certainly not with awe or alarm. How unlike the station here to Euston Square or Newcastle! Yet poor as its platform was, and ragged as was the crowd around, — station-master, guard, porter, bell, were all here! Even an Egyptian railway must have these. On we rush, passing one native village after another, very much alike in plan and architecture, as well as in materials and inhabitants. Kagged Arabs.. flocks of

.Si RAILWAY.

buffaloes.. heath-like flats.. jjatches of green.. large mounds, some of sand, others of earthenware.. burying-places.. oxen ploughing.. small mosques and minarets.. camels and boats,. sky covered with light woollen clouds bringing coolness to the noon.. thermometer nearly 70° in the shade, upwards of 90” in the sun.. swamps of water.. large fields of fine black soil covered with green crops*.. trees of various kinds in the distance.. reached the second station about eleven, a pretty large village with a burying-ground.. hard by, a shadoof or long pole with a stone at one end and a bucket at the other for drawing water.. about half-past eleven reached the steamer which crosses the Nile, the bridge here not being yet built. We soon steamed across the river of Egypt, — its dun waters gleaming in the sunshine. In little more than an hour started again on the other side.. trees more abundant.. strings of camels.. two men raising water by swinging a sort of basket-bowl between them, attached to two pretty long rojDes, by means of which it was alternately lowered and raised.. Arabs pushing a railway carriage, about thirty men behind and two runners in front, shouting and lausrhinof and dancing.. an Arab station-master rinsfiug the bell.. tombs of Moslem saints by the wayside. About two came to a richer and greener district, — perhaps Goshen.. struck with the width of the horizon, the distance of the clouds, the lowness of the zenith..

* “Et viridem ^gyptum nigra fcEcuudat arena,” says Virgil, speaking of the Nile. Qeorg. iv.

cattle and camels not at all alarmed at the rasliing train, not even turning to look at it, save a little calf which stood staring with unutterable wonder. A little after two crossed the Nile by a railway bridge.. large villa.. fine willows.. rich fields. About three agfain crossed the Nile by a handsome bridge, at Bennah.. large palace.. immense flocks of pigeons and clusters of conical pigeon-houses. As we get towards Cairo villages larger and country richer.. white storks sitting silently on the ground.. got the first glimpse of the Pyramids from the carriage window, calm and venerable.. snatches of the desert visible with its yellow undulations.. not many miles off On or Hcliovolis where Joseph dwelt, and where tradition says Joseph and Mary sojourned with the infant Jesus. As we neared Cairo crowds of people and animals of many kinds.. numerous trees for miles.. old bridge with pointed arches. Reached Cairo about four. Ourselves on donkeys and our luggage on a bullock-cart, pushed through the shrieking crowd of Arabs, and were soon at rest in Williams’ Family Hotel. An interesting day, in which we saw a great deal of Egypt in its outward aspects.. a noble river moving majestically through vast plains of fruitful soil, a thin and scattered population, poor and ragged villages, little to fall in love with or admire.. yet were there the relics of a mightier age, the debris of the most wondrous empire that the world has seen.

About half- past five I set out to call for the American missionaries. Of course I took a donkey and a boy. I

was led tbrougli narrow lanes and streets, with turnings and passages innumerable and inextricable. My guide brought me first to a large building, which turned out to be a Popish seminary. The priest who received me at the door, soon shewed me my mistake; but professed to know nothing about American missionaries, though I soon found that they were not far off. In a few minutes I reached their dwelling; and it was pleasant in the land of the Moslem to meet with brethren in Christ. They labour quietly, but in faith and love; not wearied in well-doing, though the door does not seem by any means an open one. Living in a city of 300,000 inhabitants, of whom only a few own, even in name, Christ Jesus as the Son of God, their instructions seem like “beating the air.” Yet so was it with Paul when he stood in Athens and Corinth, surrounded with equal idolatry, sensuality, and worldliness; but the power of God shewed itself wondrously in these old haunts of j)aganism; and the hand that smote the temples of Greece can overthrow the mosques of Egypt. That this is the land where some of God’s greatest deeds were done, and also the land to which a blessing is promised in the coming age, is a cheering thought to the weary missionary. It needs but a word, and the “glad tidings” find their way with winged speed through each of the two hundred and forty streets of this great city; the miuarets of its four hundred mosques become the spires of Christian churches; the one true Book from heaven sets aside not merely the Koran, but the breviaries and liturgies of Latin, Armenian, Copt, and Greek.

Hurried through these narrow lanes, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, sometimes whirled right round, I was more than once in the act of tumbling, when caught adroitly by my donkey-man, and re-adjusted in my seat; for be it remembered that the animal is never led, but driven from behind by stick and voice, and sometimes when it was slackening its pace, it would be treated with a sudden blow which made it bolt forward in a moment, thereby nearly leaving its rider behind, at least when the voice had not forewarned joli of the coming stroke. Often did we beckon for mercy to the animals, and soon taught our drivers the meaning of the word “gently,” so that on pronouncing it, the response was heard in broken English “vurry wull,” and the uplifted stick dropped, — donkeys, riders, drivers, lapsing into a quiet walk. It was only in this way that we could keep ourselves at times from riding down some tarbooshed Moslem in the bazaar, or being ridden over by some bullock-cart, or being knocked on the head by the projecting load of some gigantic camel, striding along, totally indifferent as to who or what may be in his way, or pushed rudely aside by the fore-runner of some great man’s carriage, or crushed in both limbs by being forced into the centre of two long strings of loaded donkeys. The “driving” reminded us of the Shunammite, when in the day of her sorrow she set out for the Man of God, in haste, yet in quiet faith on the God of

Israel. “She saddled an ass, and said unto her servant, DiiiVE, and go forward; slack not thy riding for me, except I bid thee.” (2 Kings iv. 24.) Here is the Shunammite with her donke’-boy behind her. It is he who drives; it is Ice who carries the stick or goad; he whips on the animal, or allows it to slacken its pace at the bidding of the rider.

I met, too, with an incident which shewed the meaning of Elisha’s command to Gehazi, “If thou meet any man, salute him not; and if any man salute thee, answer him not again” (2 Kings iv. 29), and of the Lord’s instruction to his disciples, “salute no man by the way.” (Luke X. 4) With us, a brief, wayside salutation does not hinder. But in the East it does. As we were turninor in by a narrow, dark, arched lane, my donkey-man suddenly sprung aside, with a loud shout of delight, and left me. Of course I halted, not knowing my way. Some donkeys were coming on in front, and my driver had seen in the foremost of the riders, a brother or friend, who was returning from a journey. My donkey-man was on foot, but this mattered not. In a moment he leapt up and seized his friend round the neck, — hugging him most strenuously, and kissing him first on one side of the face and then on the other. This mutual operation being over, they inquired after each other’s health and then went on their way. I did not like the delay, even of the minute or two which the scene occupied, for it was getting dark; but there was no use m saying a word. Besides, the scene was as mteresting as it was novel

In the great thoroughfares of London, such as Cheapside, crowded with riders, drivers, walkers, — drays, carriages, and gigs, — each one looks simply to himself; and this exclusive self-care, which some would call selfishness, is the hest security for general safety, for order in the midst of confusion, and for the preservation of our neighbour’s rights as well as our own. In the East no one deigns to look after himself, but reckons that every body ought to look after him; and so each one marches on amid the crowds of the narrow bazaar, despising carriages, carts, camels, donkeys, — nay walls and pillars, not thinking it possible that any one would refuse to make way for him, or be so bold as deny him the sovereign right of way. One may imagine the confusion which results.

In our Western regions we plan wide streets and moderately low houses, to relieve the heat of summer. In the East they build streets as narrow as lanes, and houses like those of the High Street of Edinburgh as preservatives against heat! Nor can the success of this be doubted; for as there are some Highland ravines into which sun-heat and sun-light never find their way, so are there streets and lanes without number in Cairo, the recesses of which no sun has ever seen. But the fresh air, the pleasant breeze, the genial fragrance, — these are all banished with the heat and light.

In our far North-west, men put aside their hats or caps to let out the heat and let in the cold. In the warm East men carefully and closely cover their heads iO CUSTOMS.

to keep out the heat and to keep in the cold. Who sees a bareheaded Arab or Turk? The fellah, though his body is in rags has still the turban or cap for his head, which sits there night and day, save when at certain times he betakes himself to the public baths to get his body washed and his head shaven. Day and night is their head covered. I only remember one of our Arabs, who occasionally trudged along in the desert without his cap, and he was an odd sort of being, whose hair was longer and shaggier than usual. Even when the tarboosh is laid aside for a little, the white under-cap still keeps its place. With us the hat is taken off in worship, with them it is the shoe. The hat is never removed either when praying outside by the way, as we often saw them doing, or in the mosque. In Jerusalem we noticed that the converted natives retained their fezcaps in church. Yet the Eastern idea in this case is not the same as the Western. With us the removal of the hat is an exj)ression of reverence for the place we are entering, or rather for Him whose presence is acknowledged as there. With them the removal of the shoe is not an expression of reverence, but a confession of personal defilement, and a recognition of the mosque as holy ground. This idea had its origin in God’s command to Moses at the Bush, where the divine glory, or Shekinah, appeared like devouring fire, as afterwards on Sinai. Or shall we say that this command took for gTanted a pre^.ously existing idea to this effect? “‘Draw not nigh hither,’’ — that is, advance no farther, for this place is the dwelling of the glory, — the holy of holies, that is only to be entered by the High Priest once a-year, and” not without blood.” Nay, more, even the circle round is consecrated by the presence of the glory, — ^’ put off thy shoes from off thy feet; for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.” (Exod. iii. 5.) The Jews are as particular as the Llahommedans in this respect. Hence when we visited the synagogue at Nablous the old Rabbi insisted on our being unshod, just as when we entered the mosque of Omar. Yet elsewhere they made no such condition on entering their synagogues. They retain their caps however, like the Easterns, — and this even in the West. AYe once had a specimen of this in Loudon. We went to St Paul’s in the forenoon, and being somcAvhat forgetful, we did not take otf our hats when we entered. In half a minute a verger was at our side, with “please take off your hats.” In the course of the same day we visited the Jewish synagogue, and, mindful of the verger’s word, we took off our hats as we entered. In a moment the Jew beside us called out, “put on your hats.” We obeyed at once, wondering, however, at the difference of ideas between the church and the synagogue in the matter of worship. The ditfercnce was probably at first a simple matter of necessity. In the East you dare not expose your uncovered head to the sun without injury; in the West it is safer to uncover the head than the feet. When the multitudes of Israel heard the voice of God “they bowed the head and worshipped,” and Moses “bowed his head towards the earth and worshipped.” (Exod. xxxlv. 8.) With us there would have been the uncovering of the head as well. In the East the people bowed the head to royalty as it passed by; in the West they take off their hats while they shout forth their loyalty.

In the East men shave their heads, in the West their beards. Yet the latter seems to have been an Egyptian custom in former days; for we read that Joseph, before he went in unto Pharaoh, “shaved himself.” (Gen. xli. It.)

In the West hlach is the emblem of grief in which mourners wrap themselves; in the East there is no special colour. The attendants at funerals had on their usual dress, and the pall was red and yellow. Sackcloth, with rending of the clothes, and ashes on the head, was the proper sign of deep gi’ief, — and “sackcloth within, upon the flesh,” (2 Kings li. oO), the symbol of more than common sorrow. Yet the mourners at graves, at least the women, are in their usual white. Job gave vent to his sorrow by adding to all the other expressions of it that of “shaving the head.” (Job. i. 20.)

In the West men wash their hands by dipping them in water, in the East they have water poured upon them. And often did we see our dragoman’s little Nubian servant, Haman, pouring water on his master’s hands, as Elisha did on the hands of Elijah. (2 Kings iii. 11.) At one time he mioht be seen briiifjing a bason of water for us to wash in, at another pouring water out of a jug upon his master’a

We did not dine till half-]oast six, so that we had two hours to do what business our first afternoon in Cairo required. I noticed that while we were at dinner several persons came in and seated themselves on the divan hehind us, — no one seeming to think them intruders. So the woman who came uninvited into the house of the Pharisee, vras not considered as doing something strange or rude, but rather something quite common. She “stood at his feet behind him,” and was neither removed nor wondered at. (Luke vii. 37, 38.) These visitors who had come in to the room where we were dining sat quietly till dinner w..s ended, and then entered into conversation with us.

In the course of the evening, we made inquiries respecting a dragoman for our desert journey; but decided nothing. It is not easy to satisfy oneself, even with a score of excellent certificates. There are so many points to be considered, — fitness, experience, temper, cleanliness, obliging habits, and the like. For it is not merely comfort and safety that the traveller has to take thought for, but the accomplishment of his travelling aims, — seeing and hearing thoroughly all that is to be seen and heard. Very much depends on an. obliging as well as intelligent and communicative dragoman.

Committing ourselves and our ways to that God who is not too great to care for each creature that he has made, and asking him to form all our plans for us, we lay down to rest, looking forward to the day of rest which was at hand. In spite of some noise in the street and knockings at the door of the hotel, we slept in peace. A week farther from our home on earth, a week nearer our home in the kingdom of God!

Cairo, Sahbath, Jan. 6. 1856. — Rose between seven and eight. Thermometer at oG The day is bright, — the sky all sunshine and azure. Our hotel is in a sort of square or open space. Fronting us is a large garden or park planted with shrubs and trees, — lubbuks, acacias, tamarisks, and such like. Our view from the windows is pleasant though not extensive, and the ranges of trees, so various in shape, size, and hue, would stand out in fresher beauty, under so fair a sunshine, were it not for the dust that disfigures every leaf and blossom here. Egypt from the nature of its soil, as well as from lack of moisture, is specially the land of dust; and terrible must have been the extent of the plague sent on her when God commanded Aaron, saying, “Stretch out thy rod, and smite the dust of the land, that it may become lice throughout all the land of Egypt,” (Exod. viii. 16); and how sore the calamity denounced against Israel, whose land contains but little of this nuisance, “The Lord shall make the rain of thy land powder and dust: from heaven shall it come down upon thee, until thou be destroyed.’’ (Deut. xxviii. 24.) Getting so little rain and at long intervals, the objects, both of art and nature, take on a du.sty hue, which sadly mars their look. It is not merely the street or the low shrub that takes on the dust; but the tall minaret looks dingy too, and the palm, in s2oite of well-watered roots, feels the leed of showers from above. No native feels this. He hinks that if he gets enough of water to drinJc, he does lot need any for his hands or face; and so he thinks that f his pajm-tree gets the Kile-stream for its roots, it can io without the rain of heaven for its branches. And ive have not a few of such dusty Christians among Durselves, — men who, though they take heed to life and growth, forget the numerous little impurities which mar the symmetry and comeliness of noble character, and ire like dust upon the leaves of those “trees of rightsousness” which are planted by the “rivers of water,” There is something unpleasant in these unwashen palms, — either in figure or in reality. An Arab is watering the dusty street. He has a water-skin slung aslant across his shoulders, — and with its mouth in his hand he moves along squirting out the fluid in all directions. But he cannot reach the broad leaves of these branching luhhuhs, or the thin wiry foliage of these slender tarfas. Nothing will touch or wash them but the rain of the firmament, — something higher than man, and less scanty than his water-skins.

We worshipped in the English Church in the forenoon, and in the afternoon I preached in the rooms of the American ]Iission. Only a handful of Christian men, — English or American, — in this great city. Yet Egypt waits for the day of its light; and that day shall come. It is now the Koran; it shall then be the Bible. It is now Mahommed; it shall then be Christ.

The day has gone down in clouds, and there is a slicflit shoTver this evenincr. The Sabbath-stillness is rudely broken in upon by a hurdy-gurdy in the square. Yet what stillness has there been throughout the day? None. Cairo has no weekly rest. Donkeys, camels, Arabs, men, and boys, — all crowd the streets as at other times; nay, shows and games of all kinds have been going on more noisily than usual. Yet thus it is both in East and West! The world needs rest, but takes none. Can it long stand this constant tear and wear of life? It will yet be found that God’s demand for a seventh portion of our days was the most reasonable of all demands. lan needs the Sabbath; and even were this age to throw it down, the wants of the next would call for its setting up.

As we were going to bed I looked out and found most of the clouds gone and the stars shining out. Orion, in his full eastern brightness, was right above our window, and seemed almost overhead. The hum of the day was over; and the Sabbath-calm had come at last’ though not till the Sabbath itself was gone.

Monday, Jan. 7. 1856. — I rose before seven and went out for a walk. The morning was misty and the thermometer 55^ I walked outside the gate, on the road towards Bulac. Long lines of luhhuh trees, with their large thin pods drooping through their green leaves. Spent the forenoon in sketching our route and drawing out an agreement with the dragoman, Hajl-Ismael Achmet Siouti. He was a native of Siout in Upper Egypt as his name imports, and took to himself the title of Haj or Haji, because he had once been at Mecca, though in what capacity we could not exactly learn. Several with whom we afterwards met questioned his right to the title of “pilgrim,” inasmuch as it was said he had only been to Mecca as a soldier, and the Prophet’s law forbade the name to be given to any one who had been to the holy city merely in that capacity. Ee this as it may, he liked the title and took it; so we gave it to him in our future journeys, as Ave found all our Eedaween doing the same. AVe generally called him merely by the title, Haji; but our Arabs always appended the first of his string of names, and often made the desert-echoes resound with the name of Hajismdel. If however, as Dr Wilson says, “its bearded possessors are viewed as combining the character of the knight and the saint,” we are afraid that our dragoman could not have made good any pretensions to the character of either knight or saint, AVe do not doubt that he had kissed the black stone of the Kaabah; but that fact seems of small moment in our eyes, whatever it might 1)0 in his or in the eyes of the Arabs. The contract was duly written both in Arabic and English, he affixing his seal to it, and we subscribing our names, at the English consul’s office. For this we paid twenty-seven piastres, or about five shillings and sixpence. He engaged to be ready in three days, — providing everything for us, at the rate of twenty-five shillings each, per day. Ac found a shop, just at the entrance of the bazaar, kept by an Englishman, where we got some articles for our journey, such as white hats, white umbrellas, green or blue veils, but not at a very moderate price. Opposite to this was a shop of a native shoemaker, where we furnished ourselves with white or yellow boots; for the dust of Cairo and the heat of the desert make black ones a great discomfort. These boots, we found afterwards, suited well the dust of Egyyt and the sand of the desert, — but the stones and rocks of Palestine called for something more substantial. Israel’s wondrous story came to mind: — “I have led you forty years in the wilderness; your clothes are not waxen old upon you, and thy shoe is not waxen old upon thy foot.” (Deut. xxix. 5.) Asher’s shoes of “iron and brass” suited his rocky coast from Carmel to Sidon, and no doubt Israel found in Egypt all that he needed, for his wilderness sojourn. Covering for both foot and head is needful, and rude as were the thong-stitched sandals of our Arabs, — made of fish-skin or some rude material, — still some attempt was made to protect the foot. Loose enough they often were, flapping to and fro upon the sole of the foot, as its owner scraped or shovelled his way along the sands; in two cases it was one foot, or rather one sole only, that was thus shod; but still no one liked to be shoeless; though the sandal is not by any means so great a necessity as the turban, and, when running, it was generally put off as an incumbrance. I speak of the Bedaween specially, not the better classes of the Egyptian or the Syrian.

In the bazaars sat the “money-changers,” with their “MONEY-CHANGERS.” 49

“table” or board before them, and their various rows and heaps of silver. It would not be difficult to overthrow these “tables,” (Matt. xxi. 12); but what a scent would result from the “pouring out ‘’ of these heaps of silver, especially along such a smooth platform as that of the temple. (John ii. 15.) In no mosque do you find any such money-changing or traffic of any kind. All its courts, outer and inner, are held sacred. But in the Latin and Greek churches there is no such reverence nor restriction. Their outer courts are made precisely what the temple was made by the Jews eighteen hundred years ago, — places of traffic in all kinds of wares. Whether they are also “dens of thieves” I know not; but this I may say, that no Moslem would carry his market into his mosque, as Latins and Greeks do into their churches. The Moslem admits neither the statue of the dead saint nor the tabic of the living merchant. The so-called Christians bid welcome to both. Some of our party smarted sorely at the hands of these money-changers. Indeed, unless you have a dragoman with you when transacting business with them, you may count upon being cheated.

In passing through one of the bazaars I was witness of a sad scene. A father, in a rage, was beating his child willi a huge stick. He was a tall strong Arab, and the child was a boy about ten. As he lay on the ground, struggling and crying, the father kept striking him on every part, — head, back, front, and foot, — without mercy. I never saw a dog at home so savagely beaten. I was going to try my hand at intei-fering, as the want of lang-uage tied my tongue, — when some neighbours rushed forward and seized the man, who, after a straggle, allowed himself to be led away from his victim. I thought that the boy’s every bone was broken, — for no European bones could have stood such a smashing; but he rose up in a moment, dried his tears, shook himself, and went away as if nothing had befallen him. It seemed quite a specimen of Eastern manners; yet the West need not boast. There are indoor scenes much worse than this at home, if our daily police reports are true. Let not the Londoner boast over the Caireen. A stricter police keeps these scenes from the public streets, but that is all.