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    Sketches and Travels in London

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      Then we went to see the famous obelisk presented by Mehemet Ali to

      the British Government, who have not shown a particular alacrity to

      accept this ponderous present. The huge shaft lies on the ground,

      prostrate, and desecrated by all sorts of abominations. Children

      were sprawling about, attracted by the dirt there. Arabs, negroes,

      and donkey-boys were passing, quite indifferent, by the fallen

      monster of a stone--as indifferent as the British Government, who

      don't care for recording the glorious termination of their Egyptian

      campaign of 1801. If our country takes the compliment so coolly,

      surely it would be disloyal upon our parts to be more enthusiastic.

      I wish they would offer the Trafalgar Square Pillar to the

      Egyptians; and that both of the huge ugly monsters were lying in

      the dirt there side by side.

      Pompey's Pillar is by no means so big as the Charing Cross trophy.

      This venerable column has not escaped ill-treatment either.

      Numberless ships' companies, travelling cockneys, &c., have affixed

      their rude marks upon it. Some daring ruffian even painted the

      name of "Warren's blacking" upon it, effacing other inscriptions,--

      one, Wilkinson says, of "the second Psammetichus." I regret

      deeply, my dear friend, that I cannot give you this document

      respecting a lamented monarch, in whose history I know you take

      such an interest.

      The best sight I saw in Alexandria was a negro holiday; which was

      celebrated outside of the town by a sort of negro village of huts,

      swarming with old, lean, fat, ugly, infantine, happy faces, that

      nature had smeared with a preparation even more black and durable

      than that with which Psammetichus's base has been polished. Every

      one of these jolly faces was on the broad grin, from the dusky

      mother to the india-rubber child sprawling upon her back, and the

      venerable jetty senior whose wool was as white as that of a sheep

      in Florian's pastorals.

      To these dancers a couple of fellows were playing on a drum and a

      little banjo. They were singing a chorus, which was not only

      singular, and perfectly marked in the rhythm, but exceeding sweet

      in the tune. They danced in a circle; and performers came trooping

      from all quarters, who fell into the round, and began waggling

      their heads, and waving their left hands, and tossing up and down

      the little thin rods which they each carried, and all singing to

      the very best of their power.

      I saw the chief eunuch of the Grand Turk at Constantinople pass by-

      -(here is an accurate likeness of his beautiful features {2})--but

      with what a different expression! Though he is one of the greatest

      of the great in the Turkish Empire (ranking with a Cabinet Minister

      or Lord Chamberlain here), his fine countenance was clouded with

      care, and savage with ennui.

      Here his black brethren were ragged, starving, and happy; and I

      need not tell such a fine moralist as you are, how it is the case,

      in the white as well as the black world, that happiness (republican

      leveller, who does not care a fig for the fashion) often disdains

      the turrets of kings, to pay a visit to the "tabernas pauperum."

      We went the round of the coffee-houses in the evening, both the

      polite European places of resort, where you get ices and the French

      papers, and those in the town, where Greeks, Turks, and general

      company resort, to sit upon uncomfortable chairs, and drink

      wretched muddy coffee, and to listen to two or three miserable

      musicians, who keep up a variation of howling for hours together.

      But the pretty song of the niggers had spoiled me for that

      abominable music.

      CHAPTER XV: TO CAIRO

      We had no need of hiring the country boats which ply on the

      Mahmoodieh Canal to Atfeh, where it joins the Nile, but were

      accommodated in one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's fly-

      boats; pretty similar to those narrow Irish canal boats in which

      the enterprising traveller has been carried from Dublin to

      Ballinasloe. The present boat was, to be sure, tugged by a little

      steamer, so that the Egyptian canal is ahead of the Irish in so

      far: in natural scenery, the one prospect is fully equal to the

      other; it must be confessed that there is nothing to see. In

      truth, there was nothing but this: you saw a muddy bank on each

      side of you, and a blue sky overhead. A few round mud-huts and

      palm-trees were planted along the line here and there. Sometimes

      we would see, on the water-side, a woman in a blue robe, with her

      son by her, in that tight brown costume with which Nature had

      supplied him. Now, it was a hat dropped by one of the party into

      the water; a brown Arab plunged and disappeared incontinently after

      the hat, re-issued from the muddy water, prize in hand, and ran

      naked after the little steamer (which was by this time far ahead of

      him), his brawny limbs shining in the sun: then we had half-cold

      fowls and bitter ale: then we had dinner--bitter ale and cold

      fowls; with which incidents the day on the canal passed away, as

      harmlessly as if we had been in a Dutch trackschuyt.

      Towards evening we arrived at the town of Atfeh--half land, half

      houses, half palm-trees, with swarms of half-naked people crowding

      the rustic shady bazaars, and bartering their produce of fruit or

      many-coloured grain. Here the canal came to a check, ending

      abruptly with a large lock. A little fleet of masts and country

      ships were beyond the lock, and it led into THE NILE.

      After all, it is something to have seen these red waters. It is

      only low green banks, mud-huts, and palm-clumps, with the sun

      setting red behind them, and the great, dull, sinuous river

      flashing here and there in the light. But it is the Nile, the old

      Saturn of a stream--a divinity yet, though younger river-gods have

      deposed him. Hail! O venerable father of crocodiles! We were all

      lost in sentiments of the profoundest awe and respect; which we

      proved by tumbling down into the cabin of the Nile steamer that was

      waiting to receive us, and fighting and cheating for sleeping-

      berths.

      At dawn in the morning we were on deck; the character had not

      altered of the scenery about the river. Vast flat stretches of

      land were on either side, recovering from the subsiding

      inundations: near the mud villages, a country ship or two was

      roosting under the date-trees; the landscape everywhere stretching

      away level and lonely. In the sky in the east was a long streak of

      greenish light, which widened and rose until it grew to be of an

      opal colour, then orange; then, behold, the round red disc of the

      sun rose flaming up above the horizon. All the water blushed as he

      got up; the deck was all red; the steersman gave his helm to

      another, and prostrated himself on the deck, and bowed his head

      eastward, and praised the Maker of the sun: it shone on his white

      turban as he was kneeling, and gilt up his bronzed face, and sent

      his blue shadow over the glowing deck. The distances, which had

      been grey, were now clothed i
    n purple; and the broad stream was

      illuminated. As the sun rose higher, the morning blush faded away;

      the sky was cloudless and pale, and the river and the surrounding

      landscape were dazzlingly clear.

      Looking ahead in an hour or two, we saw the Pyramids. Fancy my

      sensations, dear M -: two big ones and a little one -

      ! ! !

      There they lay, rosy and solemn in the distance--those old,

      majestical, mystical, familiar edifices. Several of us tried to be

      impressed; but breakfast supervening, a rush was made at the coffee

      and cold pies, and the sentiment of awe was lost in the scramble

      for victuals.

      Are we so blases of the world that the greatest marvels in it do

      not succeed in moving us? Have society, Pall Mall clubs, and a

      habit of sneering, so withered up our organs of veneration that we

      can admire no more? My sensation with regard to the Pyramids was,

      that I had seen them before: then came a feeling of shame that the

      view of them should awaken no respect. Then I wanted (naturally)

      to see whether my neighbours were any more enthusiastic than

      myself--Trinity College, Oxford, was busy with the cold ham:

      Downing Street was particularly attentive to a bunch of grapes:

      Figtree Court behaved with decent propriety; he is in good

      practice, and of a Conservative turn of mind, which leads him to

      respect from principle les faits accomplis: perhaps he remembered

      that one of them was as big as Lincoln's Inn Fields. But, the

      truth is, nobody was seriously moved . . . And why should they,

      because of an exaggeration of bricks ever so enormous? I confess,

      for my part, that the Pyramids are very big.

      After a voyage of about thirty hours, the steamer brought up at the

      quay of Boulak, amidst a small fleet of dirty comfortless cangias,

      in which cottons and merchandise were loading and unloading, and a

      huge noise and bustle on the shore. Numerous villas, parks, and

      country-houses had begun to decorate the Cairo bank of the stream

      ere this: residences of the Pasha's nobles, who have had orders to

      take their pleasure here and beautify the precincts of the capital;

      tall factory chimneys also rise here; there are foundries and

      steam-engine manufactories. These, and the pleasure-houses, stand

      as trim as soldiers on parade; contrasting with the swarming,

      slovenly, close, tumble-down, Eastern old town, that forms the

      outport of Cairo, and was built before the importation of European

      taste and discipline.

      Here we alighted upon donkeys, to the full as brisk as those of

      Alexandria, invaluable to timid riders, and equal to any weight.

      We had a Jerusalem pony race into Cairo; my animal beating all the

      rest by many lengths. The entrance to the capital, from Boulak, is

      very pleasant and picturesque--over a fair road, and the wide-

      planted plain of the Ezbekieh; where are gardens, canals, fields,

      and avenues of trees, and where the great ones of the town come and

      take their pleasure. We saw many barouches driving about with fat

      Pashas lolling on the cushions; stately-looking colonels and

      doctors taking their ride, followed by their orderlies or footmen;

      lines of people taking pipes and sherbet in the coffee-houses; and

      one of the pleasantest sights of all,--a fine new white building

      with HOTEL D'ORIENT written up in huge French characters, and

      which, indeed, is an establishment as large and comfortable as most

      of the best inns of the South of France. As a hundred Christian

      people, or more, come from England and from India every fortnight,

      this inn has been built to accommodate a large proportion of them;

      and twice a month, at least, its sixty rooms are full.

      The gardens from the windows give a very pleasant and animated

      view: the hotel-gate is besieged by crews of donkey-drivers; the

      noble stately Arab women, with tawny skins (of which a simple robe

      of floating blue cotton enables you liberally to see the colour)

      and large black eyes, come to the well hard by for water: camels

      are perpetually arriving and setting down their loads: the court

      is full of bustling dragomans, ayahs, and children from India; and

      poor old venerable he-nurses, with grey beards and crimson turbans,

      tending little white-faced babies that have seen the light at

      Dumdum or Futtyghur: a copper-coloured barber, seated on his hams,

      is shaving a camel-driver at the great inn-gate. The bells are

      ringing prodigiously; and Lieutenant Waghorn is bouncing in and out

      of the courtyard full of business. He only left Bombay yesterday

      morning, was seen in the Red Sea on Tuesday, is engaged to dinner

      this afternoon in the Regent's Park, and (as it is about two

      minutes since I saw him in the courtyard) I make no doubt he is by

      this time at Alexandria, or at Malta, say, perhaps, at both. Il en

      est capable. If any man can be at two places at once (which I

      don't believe or deny) Waghorn is he.

      Six o'clock bell rings. Sixty people sit down to a quasi-French

      banquet: thirty Indian officers in moustaches and jackets; ten

      civilians in ditto and spectacles; ten pale-faced ladies with

      ringlets, to whom all pay prodigious attention. All the pale

      ladies drink pale ale, which, perhaps, accounts for it; in fact the

      Bombay and Suez passengers have just arrived, and hence this

      crowding and bustling, and display of military jackets and

      moustaches, and ringlets and beauty. The windows are open, and a

      rush of mosquitoes from the Ezbekieh waters, attracted by the wax

      candles, adds greatly to the excitement of the scene. There was a

      little tough old Major, who persisted in flinging open the windows,

      to admit these volatile creatures, with a noble disregard to their

      sting--and the pale ringlets did not seem to heed them either,

      though the delicate shoulders of some of them were bare.

      All the meat, ragouts, fricandeaux, and roasts, which are served

      round at dinner, seem to me to be of the same meat: a black

      uncertain sort of viand do these "fleshpots of Egypt" contain. But

      what the meat is no one knew: is it the donkey? The animal is

      more plentiful than any other in Cairo.

      After dinner, the ladies retiring, some of us take a mixture of hot

      water, sugar, and pale French brandy, which is said to be

      deleterious, but is by no means unpalatable. One of the Indians

      offers a bundle of Bengal cheroots; and we make acquaintance with

      those honest bearded white-jacketed Majors and military Commanders,

      finding England here in a French hotel kept by an Italian, at the

      city of Grand Cairo, in Africa.

      On retiring to bed you take a towel with you into the sacred

      interior, behind the mosquito curtains. Then your duty is, having

      tucked the curtains closely around, to flap and bang violently with

      this towel, right and left, and backwards and forwards, until every

      mosquito should have been massacred that may have taken refuge

      within your muslin canopy.

      Do what you will, however, one of them always escapes the murder;

      and as soon as the candle is out the
    miscreant begins his infernal

      droning and trumpeting; descends playfully upon your nose and face,

      and so lightly that you don't know that he touches you. But that

      for a week afterwards you bear about marks of his ferocity, you

      might take the invisible little being to be a creature of fancy--a

      mere singing in your ears.

      This, as an account of Cairo, dear M-, you will probably be

      disposed to consider as incomplete: the fact is, I have seen

      nothing else as yet. I have peered into no harems. The magicians,

      proved to be humbugs, have been bastinadoed out of town. The

      dancing-girls, those lovely Alme, of whom I had hoped to be able to

      give a glowing and elegant, though strictly moral, description,

      have been whipped into Upper Egypt, and as you are saying in your

      mind-- Well, it ISN'T a good description of Cairo: you are

      perfectly right. It is England in Egypt. I like to see her there

      with her pluck, enterprise, manliness, bitter ale, and Harvey

      Sauce. Wherever they come they stay and prosper. From the summit

      of yonder Pyramids forty centuries may look down on them if they

      are minded; and I say, those venerable daughters of time ought to

      be better pleased by the examination, than by regarding the French

      bayonets and General Bonaparte, Member of the Institute, fifty

      years ago, running about with sabre and pigtail. Wonders he did,

      to be sure, and then ran away, leaving Kleber, to be murdered, in

      the lurch--a few hundred yards from the spot where these

      disquisitions are written. But what are his wonders compared to

      Waghorn? Nap massacred the Mamelukes at the Pyramids: Wag has

      conquered the Pyramids themselves; dragged the unwieldy structures

      a month nearer England than they were, and brought the country

      along with them. All the trophies and captives that ever were

      brought to Roman triumph were not so enormous and wonderful as

      this. All the heads that Napoleon ever caused to be struck off (as

      George Cruikshank says) would not elevate him a monument as big.

      Be ours the trophies of peace! O my country! O Waghorn! Hae tibi

      erunt artes. When I go to the Pyramids I will sacrifice in your

      name, and pour out libations of bitter ale and Harvey Sauce in your

      honour.

      One of the noblest views in the world is to be seen from the

      citadel, which we ascended to-day. You see the city stretching

      beneath it, with a thousand minarets and mosques,--the great river

      curling through the green plains, studded with innumerable

      villages. The Pyramids are beyond, brilliantly distinct; and the

      lines and fortifications of the height, and the arsenal lying

      below. Gazing down, the guide does not fail to point out the

      famous Mameluke leap, by which one of the corps escaped death, at

      the time that His Highness the Pasha arranged the general massacre

      of the body.

      The venerable Patriarch's harem is close by, where he received,

      with much distinction, some of the members of our party. We were

      allowed to pass very close to the sacred precincts, and saw a

      comfortable white European building, approached by flights of

      steps, and flanked by pretty gardens. Police and law-courts were

      here also, as I understood; but it was not the time of the Egyptian

      assizes. It would have been pleasant, otherwise, to see the Chief

      Cadi in his hall of justice; and painful, though instructive, to

      behold the immediate application of the bastinado.

      The great lion of the place is a new mosque which Mehemet Ali is

      constructing very leisurely. It is built of alabaster of a fair

      white, with a delicate blushing tinge; but the ornaments are

      European--the noble, fantastic, beautiful Oriental art is

      forgotten. The old mosques of the city, of which I entered two,

      and looked at many, are a thousand times more beautiful. Their

      variety of ornament is astonishing,--the difference in the shapes

      of the domes, the beautiful fancies and caprices in the forms of

      the minarets, which violate the rules of proportion with the most

      happy daring grace, must have struck every architect who has seen

     


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