Social Life in Egypt 9781617193439, 1617193437

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Social Life in E g y p t

Gorgias Historic Travels in the Cradle of Civilization

29

Gorgias Historic Travels in the Cradle of Civilization is a series of reprints of historic travelogues from travelers to regions of high antiquity: North Africa, Western and West-Central Asia. Glimpses into a forgotten world, these journals show us many of the roots of our own present-day civilization.

Social Life in Egypt

A Description of the Country and its People

Stanley Lane-Poole

A

1 gargias press 2010

Gorgias Press LLC, 954 River Road, Piscataway, NJ, 08854, USA www.gor giaspr es s. com Copyright © 2010 by Gorgias Press LLC Originally published in 1884 All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of Gorgias Press LLC.

2010

1

ISBN 978-1-61719-343-9

ISSN 1935-3200 Reprinted from the 1884 London edition.

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

I.

THE TOWNSFOLK C o n s e r v a t i s m of the E g y p t i a n M i d d l e C l a s s e s . — T h e Cairo T r a d e s m a n . — S h o p s . — S t r e e t s . — B y - l a n e s . — H o u s e s . — C o u r t s . — R o o m s . — D a i l y L i f e . — V i s i t i n g . — H a r f m . — F e m i n i n e B e a u t y . — P o s i t i o n of W o m e n in M o h a m m a d a n Countries.—Meals.— F e a s t i n g in t h e M i d d l e A g e s — U s e of W i n e . — P o e t r y a n d Music.—ITamm&d the T o c t . - Ibralilm E l - M d s i l y . — M u k h a r i k . — M u s i c in t h e P r e s e n t D a y . — M o d e r n Festivities. - M a r r i a g e . — P u b l i c F e s t i v a l s . — M o h a r r a m . — A s h t h a . — T h e R e t u r n of the P i l g r i m s . — T h e M o l i d E n - N e b y . — T h e H a s a n e y n . — B a z a a r s on the G r e a t N i g h t of t h e H a s a n e y n . — O t h e r F e a s t s . — T h e H o l y C a r p e t . — T h e M a h m a l . - T h e N i g h t of the D r o p . — C h a r a c t e r of E g y p t i a n A m u s e m e n t s .

C H A P T E R II. TIIE COUNTRYFOLK E g y p t a n A g r i c u l t u r a l C o u n t r y . — C o n d i t i o n s of C u l t i v a t i o n . — T h e A n n u a l I n u n d a t i o n . -—Canals.—Corvée L a b o u r . — W a t e r - e n g i n e s . — S h a d ù f s , S à k i y e h s , a n d S t e a m - p u m p s . — T h e I n d e b t e d n e s s of t h e F e l l à h ! a . — A n E g y p t i a n C a l e n d a r . — C h a r a c t e r of the P e a s a n t . — V i l l a g e s . — P e a s a n t s ' H u t s . — T h e V i l l a g e S a i n t . — A Country T o w n . — Courts of " J u s t i c e . " — T h e C o p t s . — A Coptic W e d d i n g . — I n d u s t r i e s . — D a i l y Life of the P e a s a n t s . — T h e Life of t h e W o m e n in tin; C o u n t r y . — T h e B e d a w i s . — T h e A b a b d c h . — T h e i r D r e s s , T e n t s , F o o d , E m p l o y m e n t , a n d Character. CHAPTER III. SCHOOL AND MOSQUE E d u c a t i o n . — H o m e a n d R e l i g i o u s T r a i n i n g . — S c h o o l . — U n i v e r s i t y of t h e A z h a r . — T h e R e l i g i o n o;: E g y p t . - G e n e r a l C h a r a c t e r of I s l a m . — D o g m a s . — Ritual.— M o s q u e s . — T h e M o s q u e s of ' A r a r , of I b n - T u l u n , of E l - I I a k i m . — T h e M u s e u m of A r a b A r t in t h e M o s q u e of E l - H a k i m . — T h e Moscjues of K a l a u n a n d E n - N & s i r . — S u l t a n H a s a n . — K i i ' t - B e y . — O r n a m e n t a t i o n of t h e I n t e r i o r of M o s q u e s . — M o s a i c s . — T i l e s . — B r o n z e W o r k . — W o o d C a r v i n g . — K a m a i i y e h s . — L a m p s of E n a m e l l e d G l a s s . — P r a y e r s . — F a s t i n g : R a m a d & n . — P e r f o r m a n c e of a Zikr by D a r w i s h e s . — R e c i t a t i o n s of the entire K o r a n . C H A P T E R IV. THE EUROPEAN ELEMENT E u r o p e a n I n n o v a t i o n s . - A l e x a n d r i a . — T h e T r a i l of the E u r o p e a n t h r o u g h o u t t h e L a n d . — T h e E u r o p e a n Q u a r t e r of C a i r o . — T h e T r i u m p h of W e s t e r n C u s t o m s . — T h e W o r k of t h e e x - K h e d i v e I s m a ' i l . — C a m e l s v. R a i l w a y s . — T h e J o u r n e y from Cairo to S u e z . — T e l l e l - M a s k h i i t a h — P i t h o m - S u c c o t h . —The R o u t e of the E x o d u s . — T h e Suez C a n a l . — S u e z . — L a k e Timsiih.— I s m a ' i l i a . — K a n t a r a h . — P o r t S a ' i d . — R e s u l t of all our I m p r o v e m e n t s . — Immobility of the E g y p t i a n s . — T h e P r e s e n t O u t l o o k . — U s e l e s s n e s s of a t t e m p t i n g C o n s t i t u t i o n a l G o v e r n m e n t . C H A P T E R V. EPILOGUE G e n e r a l C o n s i d e r a t i o n s . — T h e P r i m e M i s t a k e in t h e P r e s e n t System to b e found in t h e Condition of t h e W o m e n . — D i s a s t r o u s R e s u l t s of t h e V i c i o u s T r a i n i n g of W o m e n . — R e l a t i o n s of M e n a n d W o m e n d e g r a d e d by E a r l y I n c u l c a t i o n of Vicious V i e w s of e a c h o t h e r ' s R e q u i r e m e n t s . — T h e L a c k of t h e I n f l u e n c e of a L a d y . — S l i g h t P r o s p e c t of I m p r o v e m e n t , so l o n g a s I s l a m is t h e Religion of E g y p t . — E d u c a t i o n of t h e W o m e n m u s t b e the

LIST O F I L L U S T R A T I O N S . E N G R A V I N G S ON S T E E L . THE BAM ZUWEYLEJ-C

Frontispiece

M O R N I N G ON THE N I L K

Vignette

A DAUGHTER OF THE EASI PAST-IMF THE

TN A X C I F . N X

SCHOOL

FEEDINC-

OF

THE

30

EGYPT

SULTAN

SACRED

To face page

;O

HASAN

IBIS

IN

8;

THE

HALLS

OF

KARNAK

98

E N G R A V I N G S ON WOOD. Street Scene

'

.

.

.

.

.

A. Cairene Houriyeh

.

.

. .

.

.

.

.

.

28

.

.

.

.

30

Old Window—Doorway with Arabesque Ornamenta-

A By-Street

tion

The Ezbckiyeh in the Old D a y s . Mosque in a By-Street

.

.

.

T h e Shopkeeper

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.

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.

.

31

.

-

- 3 -

of

an

Inlaid

Ivor}' and

Table of Silver

.

.

.

Ebony

.

.

and Brass Filigree W o r k of

Fourteenth Century, in Arab Art Museum

Upper Sfory—a Door Knocker

Cairo

.

Entrance to a Mosque

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

supporting .

.

.

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Bowwábs or Doorkeepers

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36

Dagger—Earthenware J u g — C c l f e e Cup in Brass

.

Stand—Iron D a g g e r — N a r g i l e h , or Water-pip i% . A Street Corner

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Veiled—Unveiled

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A Cairo Mount

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Donkey B o y — a Stirrup-—Donkey Saddle

Door and Wooden Lock Meshrcbiyeh with Screen

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m front to conceal liso

inmates from the view of neighbours

Arab Marriage

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¿y 0

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Sa'is, or Running Footman

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Entrance to an Old House

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37 38

Mosque of Mohammad ' A l y — C a i r o Windmills .

3_)

Brass-handled

Cairo Crowd waiting for a Procession on a Festival .

at

.

33

Brass Coffee Jug—Porous W a t e r Jar

Uppe

A Watchman i n the Carpet Bazaar

.

Window with Shutters--Panelled Cupboard

Sakka, or Water-Carrier, with Goatskin filled .

.

Work

.

Upper Story with Projecting Window Window- -Corbels

.

33 ihc

Top and Panel of Table of Silver and Brass Filigree

Door in the Quarter of the Copts

Open Balcony

.

Table in A r a b Art Museum .

A Solitary Courl

Windows

.

Cairo—Panel

.

.

.

Carved Wooden Table in Museum of Arab Art at

A Blind B e g g a r — a Barbareen—an Armenian Private Housed

.

with Cups

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.

.

Ewer and Basin for W a s h i n g , and Coffee-Tray

A Closed Shop-front—an Open Shop-front Coppersmith—Armourer

.

Arched Recess in the Woodwork of a Room—-Brass

Part of the W a l l of the W e k á l e h of Kait-Boy

Dilapidated

.

l T pper Part of a House

Cairo, from llic Tombs of the Memlúks

.

- 4 1 .

,|> 43

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Players 011 the R a b a b or Viol, used to accompany Reciters of Romances .

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.

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•

-K

LIST OF

VI

ILLUSTRATIONS. F o u n t a i n in Court of M o s q u e of S u l t a n H a s a n

A Balcony T h e M o s q u e of S u l t a n H a s a n from t h e S o u t h - w e s t

.

Archcd Recess Doorway with R e d a n d W h i t e Ornamentation

.

T h e M o s q u e of S u l t a n H a s a n

49

S i x t e e n t h Century T o m b - m o s q u e

50

.

.

94

.

95

48

in

the

Southern 97

Cemetery Knamelied

Glass

Lamp

from

Mosque

of

Sultan

Grove of P a l m s a t M e m p h i s

51

Village H u t s

52

H a s a n ( M u s e u m of A r a b A r t , Cairo)

.

.

.

98

O n the B a n k s of t h e Nile

53

I n t e r i o r of the T o m b - m o s q u e of Kai't-Bey

.

.

.

99

O p h t h a l m i c — a W a t e r Crattc

54

T h e M i n a r e t of K a l t - B e y in the E a s t e r n C e m e t e r y

.

too

Sliaduf

55

D o m e of the T o m b - m o s q u e of K a i t - B c y

.

101

Water-wheel

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57

.

Village Sheykh

5*

N i l e - b o a t by M o o n l i g h t — T h e Nile a t K a f r - c l - A y a t

.

A R u d e Door

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A r a b A r t , Cairo) .

.

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.

uf SitLch N e f t s e h

N i c h e of a M o s q u e — G e o m e t r i c a l K ü f y I n s c r i p t i o n

61

Arched

Window

of t h e

.

.

.

School

attached

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.

103

. to

104

. the

105

M o s q u e of K a l i - B e y

*' T e l e g r a p h " — a D o n k e y - B o y — W a i t i n g for " C o o k " '

63

M o h a m m a d a n Graves

A P i p e — W a t e r Bottle

64

H o u s e s for Visitors to t h e C e m e t e r i e s

.

.

.

106

.

.

.

107

.

I r o n M o s q u e L a m p in t h e M u s e u m of A r a b A r t a t

W o m e n bringing W a t e r Aqueduct—Kile Boatman

66

A Merchant

67

P o r t e r — R e d Pultery of A s y u t

63

B l a c k A s y u t BoUle—Asyut Pottery W a t e r Vessels—a

102

.

(>o C2

.

.

59

( M u s e u m of A r a b A r t , Cairo)

.

C o m i n g from t h e W e l l — a FellAh a t L e i s u r e

P a n e l l e d D o o r from Interior of a M o s q u e ( M u s e u m of M i h r a b or N i c h e from M o s q u e

A J e w ' s H o u s e — W a l l of a TIcusc, striped R e d a n d White

.

.

.

.

69

.

108

Cairo B a s e of B r o n z e M o s q u e L a m p in t h e M u s e u m A r a b A r t a t Cairo

.

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.

•

.109

.

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.

. 1 1 1

110

A Tomb-Mosque T h e H o u r of P r a y e r in a M o s q u e

H o r s e T r o u g h — a Bow u s e d for

of

.

70

Muslim W o r s h i p p e r s .

71

P e r f o r m i n g a R e k ' a h of P r a y e r .

72

An Arab Family

73

A Cairo D o n k e y - B o y

74

A l e x a n d r i a from the P a l a c e of M e k s .

Dromedary Saddle

75

H e r e d i t a r y Pilot of A l e x a n d r i a

118

A Controversy

7°

A l e x a n d r i a f r o m the S e a

119

77

T h e P a l a c e of M e k s

separating Cotton—Shoes A Dragoman

.

.

•

•

•

" T h e S h a d o w of a G r e a t R o c k "

.

•

•

.

•

.

.

A Bcdawy Tent A Bedawy

T r a v e l l i n g in the D e s e r t A

Nubian Bedouin

Boy—Ear-ring .

.

.

of

Nubian

.

•

A T o m b in the o u t s k i r t s of Cairo Large Mosque Window

.

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•

. .

•

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E n t r a n c e to the T o m b - m o s q u e of K a i t - B c y An Alexandrian Minaret

.

.

.

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.

.

78

"Cleopatra's Needle "

.

.

.

M i n a r e t of t h e M o s q u e of I b n - T u l u n .

.

A r c a d e in the F.zbekiyeh

124.

E u r o p e a n Building, C a i r o — S u e z

.

.

.

.

I n t e r i o r of t h e B a s i n a t Suez—Suez

.

.

.

.

.

S4

S h i p in the C a n a l — D r e d g i n g M a c h i n e

.

85

B e t w e e n Suez a n d I s m a ' i l i a : a " Y a m S ü f , " or S e a

86

. 8 8 .

.

Sg

M i n a r e t (or M i b k h a r e h ) of t h e M o s q u e of E l - I l a k i m . T h e M o s q u e of K a l a u n in t h e S u k

90

.

.

125

.

126 127 .128

.

129

of R e e d s

130 .

.

.

.

131

On t h e Suez C a n a l : S t a t i o n a t E l - K a n t a r a h . " T h e 132

Bridge" T h e S t a t i o n a t K a n t a r a h on t h e Suez C a n a l

.

.

J33

L i n e M e n of the O r i e n t a l T e l e g r a p h C o m p a n y on t h e

En-Nahhasin,

f r o m t h e S q u a r e in front of t h e Beyt E l - K a d y

123

.

S3

.

121

.

Si

. .

117

.

.

P o m p e y ' s P i l l a r — P a l a c e on the I s l a n d of R o d a

Ibn-Tulun's

.

.

79

L u c k on the F r e s h w a t e r C a n a l

.

.

("0

Waterworks at Isma'ilia

Mosque

113

122

Ibn-Tuluti—

Door of F o u n t a i n in the Court of

113

.

120

Triforium Arches

M o s q u e of

. .

116

.

the

. .

114

T h e M o s q u e of ' A m r : E a s t A r c a d e s . in

.

. .

82

• .

Exterior of t h e M o s q u e of ' A m r , a t " O l d Cairo "

.

E u r o p e a n I m p r o v e m e n t s — T h e M a r k of the F r a n k

A M o d e r n M i n a r e t , Cairo T h e M o s q u e of ' A m r : " T h e Eye of t h e N e e d l e "

.

M o d e r n Shop-door in the E u r o p e a n Q u a r t e r

Woman-

•

.

91

R o a d to Suez

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.

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.

.

T34

M i n a r e t of a T o m b - m o s q u e

92

Port Sa'id

^35

T h e M o s q u e of t h e I m a m E s h - S l u i f i ' y

93

L a k e Mareotis

136

SOCIAL LIFE IN EGYPT. C H A P T E R I. THE

TOWNSFOLK.

L L who wish to know what the townspeople of Egypt are like should make acquaintance with the Cairo shopman.

The tradespeople are, indeed, the conservative

element in Egypt : it is they who keep up the old traditions and walk in the old paths, as far as these are still preserved.

T h e upper classes are becoming daily

less and less oriental in outward appearance and habits, though it will take some time to Européanise their characters. pador !

They dance with Frankish ladies, f roh

They wear Frankish clothes, smoke cigarettes,

enjoy M. Lecoq's choicest saletés

at the " Theatre

Khédivial," and, but for their eastern habits of tyranny, peculation, insincerity, and corruption, they might for all the world be Europeans.

They have, indeed, retained

one national feature, the red fez or tarbùsh ; and the collection of fezes (for the Mohammadan never takes off his hat) in the stalls of the opera, and the veils of gauze stretched in front of the boxes on the grand tier, to hide the beauties of the harîm, are the only things in the Cairene opera that remind us that we are not in Paris. Even the national coffee cups are manufactured in Europe. But the working people are very much what they have been for many centuries.

They

fully appreciate the advantages of dealing with Franks, whom they commonly cheat, but they have no desire to imitate the customs or dress of these "dogs of infidels."

Cairo, in its

bazaars and markets, is very much the same place as the Cairo Lane described so minutely in his " Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians," upon which most later descriptions arc founded ; and Lane's Cairo was to all intents and purposes the city of Salad in and the Memlûks, the city so romantically pictured in the stories of the " Thousand and One Nights."

The course of the world runs slowly in the East. B

T o use a paradox, those who

i

SOCIAL LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

know L a n e ' s " Modern Egyptians," when they visit Cairo, are surprised to find that nothing

surprises them, that everything in the native quarters is still very much in the same state as it

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

SOCIAL

4

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

was fifty years ago, and that the Cairene has stood still while all the rest of the world was joining in the everlasting " move 011" of modern civilisation. W e shall find this stand-still mortal in one of the main thoroughfares of the city.

Leaving

the European quarter behind, and taking little note of the Greek and Italian shops in the semi-civilised turn off

Musky,

we

to the right

into

the Ghuriyeh—one of those larger but still narrow streets which are distinguished with the

name

thoroughfare.

of

shdrior Such a street

is lined on either side with little box-like shops, which form an unbroken boundary 011 either hand, except where a mosque door, or a public fountain, or the entrance to another street interrupts for a brief stores. doors

space the

row of

N o n e of the private or windows

accustomed

to

breaks

line

the

we are

in

Europe

of

shops.

F o r a considerable distance all the traders deal in the same

commodity — be

sugar-plums or slippers. system

it The

has its advantages,

for if one dealer b e too dear, the next may be cheap ; and the

of

many

contiguous salesmen

competition

brings

about a salutary reduction in prices.

O n the other hand,

it must be allowed that it is fatiguing to have to order your coat in half-a-dozen different p l a c e s - t o buy the cloth in one direction, the buttons in another, the braid in a third, the lining in a fourth, the thread in a fifth, and then to have to go to quite another place to find a tailor to cut it out and sew it together.

A n d as cach dealer has to be bargained with, and generally smoked with, if

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

5

n o t coffeed with, if you g e t your coat ordered in a single m o r n i n g you may count yourself expeditious. I n one of these little cupboards t h a t do duty for shops, w e may or may not find the typical tradesman we are seeking.

I t may chance h e has gone to say his prayers, or to see a friend,

or p e r h a p s he did not feel inclined for business t o - d a y : in which case the folding shutters of his shop will be closed, and as he does not live a n y w h e r e near, and as, if he did, there is no bell, no private door, and no assistant, we may wait there for ever, so far as he is concerned.

THE EZBEliiYEII

and get no answer to our inquiries.

I N T H E O L D DAYS.

H i s neighbour next door, however, obligingly informs us

that the excellent m a n whom we are seeking has g o n e to t h e mosque, and we accordingly betake ourselves to our informer a n d m a k e his acquaintance instead of his neighbour's. Our new friend is sitting in a recess some five feet square, a n d r a t h e r more than six feet high, raised a foot or two from the ground ; a n d within this n a r r o w compass he has collected all the wares he thinks he is likely to sell, a n d has also r e s e r v e d room for himself and his customers to sit down and smoke cigarettes while they bargain.

Qf coursc, his stock must be

6

SOCIAL

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

very limited, but then all his neighbours are ready to help him; and if you cannot find what you want within the compass of his four walls, he will leave you with a cigarette and a cup of coffee, or perhaps Persian tea in a tumbler, while he goes lo find the desideratum wares of his colleagues round about.

among the

Meanwhile, you drink your scalding coffee—which is,

however, incomparably delicious—and watch the throng that passes b y : the ungainly camels, laden with brushwood or green fodder, which seem to threaten to sweep everything and everybody out of the street; the respectable

i

townspeople,

mounted

on grey or brown asses, ambling along contentedly, save when an unusually severe blow from the in-

j j

human donkey-boy running behind makes their beasts swerve inconA®

tinently to the

?J|

xH

k

right or left, as

though they had a hinge in their middles; the grandees in their twohorse carriages, preceded by breath-

Vylfa

„-• "

| ",j||| l; |N

~~

less runners, who clear the way for their masters with shrill shouts— " Shemalak ya weled!" ( " T o

thy

left, my boy!") " Yeminikya S i t t ! " ( " T o thy right, O lady!")

" Iftah

eynak, ya am!" ("Open thine eye, O uncle!") and the like—the women with trays of eatables on their heads,

jjjjjl^ 3*

the water-carrier with goatskin under arm, and the vast multitude of blue-

fi

J MOSyUK IN A HY-STREK

~

•-

robed men and women who have something or other to do, which takes them indeed along the street, but

does

not

take

them

very

hurriedly. In spite of the apparent

rush and crush, the crowd moves slowly, like everything else in the E a s t

Our friend returns

with the desired article ; we approve it, guardedly, and with cautious tentative aspect demand, " How much?"

The answer is always at least twice the fair price.

W e reply, first by

exclaiming, " I seek refuge with God " (from your exorbitance), and then by offering about half the fair price.

The dealer shakes his head, looks disappointed with us, shows he expected

better sense in people of our appearance, folds up his goods, and sits down to another cigarette. After a second ineffectual bid, we summon our donkey and prepare to mount.

At this moment

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

7

the shopman relents, and reduces his price : but we are obdurate and begin riding away.

He

pursues us, almost agrees to our t e r m s ; we return, pay, receive our purchase, commend him

P A R T O F T H E W A L L OK T H E W E K A L F . H O F K A i T

to the protection of God, and wend our way on.

BEY.

But if, instead of going on, we accompany

our late antagonist in the bargain to his own home, we shall see what a middle-class Caircne house is like.

Indeed, a middle-class house in Cairo may sometimes chance to be a palace, for

SOCIAL

8

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

the modern Pasha despises the noble mansions that w e r e the pride and delight of better men than he in the good old days of the Memlûks, and prefers to live in shadeless " R o u t e N o . 29," or thereabouts, in the modern bricklayer's paradise known as the Isma'îliyeh quarter ; and hence the tradesman m a y sometimes occupy the house w h e r e some g r e a t B e y of former times held

his state, and

marshalled his retainers, w h e n

he prepared

to strike a blow for

precarious throne that was a l w a y s at the command of the strongest battalions.

the

But all C a i r e n e

houses of the old style are v e r y much alike : they differ only in the scale and the richness or poverty of the decoration ; and if our merchant's house is better than most of its neighbours, we h a v e but to subtract a few of the statelier rooms, and reduce the of the others, to obtain a of

the

houses on

either

scale

fair idea hand

and

round about. T h e street w e shall now enter is quite different from that w e h a v e left. A portion of the latter is seen in the fine

engraving

after

Mr.

Roberts's

picture, forming our frontispiece.

On

the

lofty façade of

the

Memlûk

El-

left is the

mosque

of the

Sultan

M u a y y a d , which has lately been subjected

to

an

unfinished

tasteless restoration.

course

of

Its two minarets

stand upon the fine old g a t e called t h e B â b Z u w e y l e h , in the centre of view.

People

now-a-days

call this g a t e the B â b

the

generally

El-Mutawelly,

because it is b e l i e v e d to be a favourite resort of Mutawelly,

the or

mysterious pope

being) of all the Tilt; SHOPKEEPER.

,

,

Kutb

(for the

saints. .

.

.

.

This .

Eltime very

.

holy personage is g i f t e d with p o w e r s of invisibility and of instantaneous change of place : he flies unseen from the top of the K a a b e h at M e k k e h to the B â b Zuweyleh, and there reposes in a niche behind the w o o d e n door.

T r u e believers tell their beads as they pass this niche, and the curious peep in to see

if the saint be there ; and if you h a v e a headache, there is no better cure than to d r i v e a nail into the door ; while a sure r e m e d y for the toothache, is to pull out the tooth a n d h a n g it up on the same v e n e r a t e d spot.

P e r h a p s pulling the tooth out might of itself cure the

ache ; but the suggestion savours of blasphemy, and at any rate it is safer to fix the tooth up.

TIIE

TOWNSFOLK.

9

T h e door bristles with unpleasing v o t i v e offerings of this sort, and if they were all successful the K u t b must be an excellent doctor. The barred

street

thus

the

Bab

by

Zuweyleh is, for Cairo, a broad one; and shops, mosques, wekalchs, and fountains

form

boundaries.

T h e street

we

enter,

as

down a

by-

now

w e turn lane

and

then

its

wheel

sharply to the left, has no shops, though there is a little mosque, the tomb

of

a

venerated

saint, at the corner as w e enter.

Its broad bands

of red and white relieve the deep shadows of the lane, each side of which is composed of die tall faces of houses, with nothing to v a r y the whitewashed walls except the closely grated windows. N either hand still narrower alleys open off, sometimes mere cuIs-de-sac, but often threading the city for a considerable distance.

In these solitary courts w e may

still

see

the

meshrcMyelis, which are becoming so rare in the more frequented

thoroughfares.

A

meshrcbiyeh

is

a

projecting

window, constructed entirely, save its roof and bottom, of ingeniously contrived lattice-work, at least in the houses of the better sort, but made of rough boards in poorer houses. T h e best are reserved for the interior windows of the house, which look 011 the inner court or g a r d e n ; but there are still not a f e w streets in Cairo where the passenger still stops to admire tier upon tier and row after row of meshrebiyehs, which g i v e a singularly picturesque appearance to the houses.. T h e name is derived from the root which means to drink _

iwhich occurs in " s h e r b e t " ) , and is applied to these latticeindows because the porous water-bottles are often placed

L N

H F R

T

UL T ] I E M

T0

CQQ^

Frequently there is a little semicircular

¿L^sc projucung out oi uie centre of the meshrebiyeh for the reception of a Knlleh, or waterbottle.

T h e delicately turned nobs and balls, by which the patterns of the lattice-work are

SOCIAL LIFE

IO

IN

EGYPT.

formed, are sufficiently near together to conceal w h a t e v e r passes within from the e y e s of opposite neighbours, and y e t there is enough space between them to allow free access of air. HE

meshrebiyeh is indeed a cooling place for human beings as well as water-jars, and at once a convent-grating and a spying-place for the w o m e n of the harim, w h o can watch their enemies of the opposite sex through the meshes of the w i n d o w s without b e i n g seen in return.

Y e t there are

convenient little doors that open in the lattice-work if the inmates choose to be seen as they s e e ;

and it must be

allowed that the fair ladies of C a i r o are not a l w a y s a b o v e the pardonable v a n i t y of letting a passer-by see that they are fair.

W h e n , as not seldom happens in the quiet by-

ways, the meshreblyehs almost meet across the road, it m a y be questioned w h e t h e r the concealment is a l w a y s so complete as it is intended to b e ; and one can easily imagine a comfortable

flirtation

carried on b e t w e e n two

lattices, especially with the doors ajar.

proximate

T h i s , h o w e v e r , is

not the reason that they are disappearing so fast from the streets.

T h e fatal opportu-

nities they afford to a conflagration, COPPERSMITH.

window

which leaps from to

window

with

inconceivable speed, is the chief reason : and the high prices realised by well-made meshreblyehs w h e n the F r a n k enters the m a r k e t tempts many a householder to dispose of his latticewindows.

T h e climate of Cairo, moreover, in winter seems

not so w a r m as it used to b e ; and the meshrebiyeh is a sorry defence against a cold wind. In one of these by-lanes we stop before an arched doorway, and tie our d o n k e y to the ring beside it. study.

T h e door itself is a

T h e upper part is surrounded b y arabesque patterns,

w h i c h form a square decoration a b o v e it, often v e r y tasteful in the case of the older doorways, and not by any means ugly in quite modern buildings.

Sometimes the wooden door itself has

arabesques 011 it, and the inscription, " G o d is the Creator, the

ARMOURER.

Eternal," which is believed to act as a charm against sickness, and demons, and the " evil eye," and also serves as a memento house w h e n e v e r he comes home.

But as a rule the door is plain.

mori to the master of the T h e r e is no b e l l — f o r the

Prophet declared that a bell is the devil's musical instrument, and the angels do not assort

THE

TOWNSFOLK,

with any company w h e r e there is a b e l l * — a n d sometimes no knocker, so we batter upon the door with our stick or fist.

It generally takes several b l o c k i n g s to m a k e oneself h e a r d : but

this is not a land w h e r e people hurry overmuch—did not our lord M o h a m m a d , upon whom be peace, say that " haste came from the devil,"—so we accommodate ourselves to the ways of the land, and console ourselves with the antithetic test, " God is with the patient."

A t last a

fumbling sound is heard on t h e other side, the doorkeeper is endeavouring to fit a stick, with little wire pins a r r a n g e d upon it in a certain order, into corresponding holes which are situated at the end of a deep mortice constructed T h e s e are the key and lock of a Cairene door. staple on the door into a slot in the jamb.

in the sliding bolt of the door.

T h e sliding bolt runs through a wooden

W h e n it is home, certain movable pins drop

down from the staple into holes in the sliding bolt a n d p r e v e n t its being drawn back.

The

introduction of the key, or stick with pins corresponding to the holes in t h e bolt, lifts the

movable pins a n d permits the bolt t o b e slid back. to pick.

N o t h i n g could b e clumsier or m o r e easy

A piece of wax at the e n d of a stick will at once reveal t h e position of the pins,

and the rest is simple. W i t h i n t h e r e is a passage, which bends sharply after the first y a r d or two, a n d thereby renders any view into the interior impossible from the open door.

I n this passage the boivzvdb,

or doorkeeper, generally an old servant, ought to be found ; but he is not always within earshot, or he may chance to be asleep.

A t the inner e n d of this passage w e emerge into an open

court, with a well of brackish water in a shady corner, a n d perhaps a n old sycamore.

O n all

sides the apartments of the house surround the court, a n d their best windows, screened with the finest lattice-work, look into it.

T h e lower rooms, opening directly off the court, are

those into which a man may walk with impunity, and no risk of m e e t i n g any of the women. I n t o one of these lower rooms our host conducts us, with polite e n t r e a t y to do him the honour of m a k i n g ourselves at home.

I t is the guest-room, or mandarah,

of the ordinary dwelling-room of the better sort.

a n d serves as an example

T h e part of the room w h e r e we enter is of

a lower level than the rest, a n d if it be a really handsome house we shall find this lower part paved with marble mosaic a n d cooled by a fountain in the middle; while opposite the door * S. L a n e - P o o l e : " T h e Speeches and Table-talk of the Prophet M o h a m m a d / 1 Golden T r e a s u r y Series, iSSa, page iOb. C

2

12

SOCIAL

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

is a marble slab raised 'upon arches., where the water-bottles, coffee-cups, and washing materials are kept. of the room.

We leave our outer shoes on the marble before we step upon the carpeted part Very generally there is a raised carpeted part on either side of the lower level,

but the room we are now in lias only one. divan round three sides.

It is covered with rugs, and furnished by a low

The end wall is filled by a meshrebiyeh, which is furnished within

with cushions, while above it some half-dozen windows, composed of small pieces of coloured glass let into a framework of stucco, so as to form a floral pattern, admit a half-light.

The

two sides, which are whitewashed where there is neither wood nor tiles, are furnished with shallow cupboards with doors of complicated geometrical panelling—an instance of necessity being the mother of invention, for the need of panelling to avoid warping in the heat of Egypt led to the elaboration of those intricate patterns, which are so characteristic of Arab woodwork Small arched niches on either of the cupboards, and a shelf above, are filled with jars and vases, and other ornaments.

The ceiling is formed

by massive beams crossed by planks and generally painted a dark red. In old

houses the

ceilings

are

often most beautifully decorated. There are no tables, chairs, fireplaces,

or

or indeed any of the

things a European understands to be furniture. When a meal is to be eaten, a little table is brought in; if the weather is cold a brazier of redPRIVATE

HOUSES.

hot charcoal is kindled; instead of

chairs the Cairene tucks his legs up under him on the divan.

Chairs, however, are becoming

less rare in Cairo, and the time may come when our Mohammadan host will ask us to " put our legs under his mahogany," like any English stockbroker; but for the present we may rest happy that these things as yet are not. There is often another reception-room, raised above the ground, but entered by steps from the court, into which it looks through an open arched front; and frequently a recess in

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

the court, under one of the upper rooms, is furnished with a divan for hot weather.

A door

opens out of t h e court into the staircase leading to the harim rooms, and here no man but t h e master of the house dare penetrate. " H a r i m " means what is " p r o h i b i t e d " t other men, a n d also what is " s a c r e d ' " to the master himself

T h e harim rooms ar

the domestic part of the house.

When

man retires t h e r e he is in the bosom of hi family, and. it would need a v e r y urgen ail air to induce the doorkeeper to summon him down to anyone who called to se him.

A m o n g the harim a p a r t m e n t s t h e r e

is generally a large sitting-room, like th mandarah, called the ha ah, with perhaps cupola over it; and in f r o n t of the ka'ah is a vestibule, which serves as a ventilating a n d cooling place, for a sloping screen over an open space on the roof of this room i so turned as to conduct the cool north breezes into the house in hot w e a t h e r ; a n d here the family often sleep in

summer.

T h e r e arc no bedrooms in a M o h a m m a d a n house, or r a t h e r no rooms furnished as bedrooms, for there are plenty of s e p a r a t chambers w h e r e the inmates sleep, but notone of t h e m has any of w h a t Ave imagin« to be the requisites of bedroom furniture T h e only fittings the Cairene asks for tin night consist of a mattress and pillow, a n d perhaps a blanket in winter a n d a mosquitonet in summer, the whole of which he roll up in the m o r n i n g a n d deposits in som cupboard or side-room, w h e r e u p o n the bedroom becomes a sitting-room.

N o r is t h e

sitting-room over-cumbered with furniture ; a divan and a rug or two are all that cus-

A SOLITARY

C0U3T.

tom requires, a n d at meal-time a little table is brought in, and a large brass or tinned tray is placed upon it, a n d the family squats round it on the

floor.

I t needs practice, however, and I

must warn E u r o p e a n s t h a t it is the best way I know of getting the cramp.

T h e r e is a n o t h e r

14

SOCIAL

LI EE

IN

EGYPT,

important department of the harim - the bathroom—not a mere room with a fixed bath in it, but a suite of complicated heated stone apartments, exactly resembling the public Turkish baths. It is only a large house that boasts this luxury, however, and most people go out to bathe, if they care to bathe at all.

Few

houses in Cairo are built higher than two stories, and the upper stories are often in a ruined and dilapidated

state,

with

ceilings

fallen in, walls bulging out and mcshrebiyehs dropping.

Indeed,

house architecture at Cairo is by no means famous for stability; houses are falling in all quarters, and

leaning walls

corners

show that

and

cracked

many

will follow their example.

more It is a

terrible matter to think how little of Cairo will be standing fifty years hence. It was not built to last, and it must inevitably yield to time and its own inherent weakness.

UPPER STORY. The inhabitants of a house, such as that described, lead a dreary monotonous life: fortunately, however, they are not often conscious of its dreariness. early, for the Muslim must say the daybreak prayers.

The master rises very

A pipe and a cup of coffee is often all

THE

TOIVXSFOLK.

15

he takes before his light midday meal, a n d he generally reserves his appetite for the chief repast of the d a y — t h e supper or d i n n e r — w h i c h he eats soon a f t e r sunset.

If he is in business, he

spends the day in more or less irregular attendance at his shop, smokes almost incessantly either the new-fangled T u r k i s h cigarette, or the traditional long chibuk, with its h a n d s o m e

1"

amber mouthpiece, its long cherry-wood stem,

1

•• •

~~

H 1

and red clay bowl filled with mild Gebely or L a t a k i a tobacco.

If he has no special occupa-

tion, he amuses himself with calling on his friends, or indulges in long d r e a m y hours in the

warm

atmosphere

of the

public

bath,

w h e r e the vapour of the hot-water tanks, and the dislocation of all the joints in the shampooing, and the subsequent interval of cooling and smoking and coffee, are all exceedingly delightful in a hot climate. W h e n he goes out, a m a n of a n y position or wealth never condescends to w a l k ; as a rule he rides a donkey, sometimes a horse ; but the donkey is far the more convenient in crowded streets.

Indeed,

an E g y p t i a n donkey of the best b r e e d is a fine animal, a n d fetches sometimes as much as a hundred g u i n e a s ;

his paces a r e both fast and

easy, and it is not difficult to write a letter on the pummel of one of these ambling mounts. T h e pummel is t h e most curious thing about the s a d d l e ; it rises sometimes nine inchcs or more above the

seat a n d is covered

with

leather, while the rest of the saddle is covered •with soft woollen stuff.

T h e animals are v e r y

sure-footed, but if they do come down on the slimy mud t h a t often lies d e e p in t h e principal thoroughfares, the rider, if he wisely abjures stirrups, simply s t a n d s up on his feet a n d walks over the donkey's head.

T h e common

uoo:

' I."I : [: OF THE COPTS.

method of urging the animal on is by keeping up a tattoo on his flanks with one's h e e l s ; and h e is generally guided by a rap on the side of the neck or head from the stick which the rider carries, instead of by the m a n a g e m e n t of the reins.

A n a t t e n d a n t runs behind, however, to

keep up the pace; a n d in f o r m e r days a g r e a t m a n used to employ a couple of runners, armed

i6

SOCIAL

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

with long sticks (nebbuts), to clear the way in f r o n t ; but now g r e a t men ride in carriages, and the saTses run some yards

in front of the horses.

How

the sais and the

ordinary

donkey-boy m a n a g e to

hold

their

own

against

the

rapid

driving

and

riding

of a

their

masters

mystery.

is

It

is

said they injure their health by the excessive strain, and die y o u n g ; and humane people the

never

runners

allow to

go

before them in long drives.

P e r h a p s this

barbaric

state

is

necessary

among

a

people

with

whom

appearances for

so

the of

count

much;

but

representatives England

surely

to

with

idle

which

in-

dispense pomp,

could

afford

v o l v e s real suffering to those w h o contribute to it.

N o one

w h o w a s in C a i r o in 1883 could help regretting

that

Lord

Dufferin and Sir E . M a l e t should countenance, e v e n to the ENTKANCli! TO A MOSQUE.

small

extent

they

did, a custom which the present width of the streets of Cairo renders superfluous, and which cannot but wear the look of cruelty and barbarism. W h i l e their lord is paying his calls or attending to his shop, the w o m e n of his household

TIIE

TOWNSFOLK.

make shift to pass the time as best they may.

17

I11 spite of popular ideas on the subject,

M o h a m m a d a n s seldom h a v e more than one wife, though they sometimes add to their regular marriage a left-handed connection with an Abyssinian or other slave girl.

Efforts, however,

are b e i n g made to put clown the traffic in slaves, and if the trade is really suppressed the

Cairene

The

will

Khedive

become

himself

monogamous.

sets an

excellent

example in this, as in most other respects, and the better sort o f Muslims are, to say the least, as moral as ordinary Christians. Facility of divorce

is the

real difficulty.

Men will not k e e p several wives, because it costs a g o o d deal to allow them separate houses or suites of rooms, and it does not conduce to

domestic

harmony:

but they

do not hesitate to divorce a wife w h e n they are tired of her, and take a new one in her place.

It is said the K h a l i f ' A l y thus

married and divorced two hundred w o m e n in his time ; and a certain dyer of B a g h d a d e v e n reached the astonishing total of nine hundred w i v e s : he died at the g o o d old age

of eighty-five, and if he married at

fifteen,

he would h a v e had a fresh spouse

for e v e r y month conjugal

felicity!

during s e v e n t y years of A

recent g o v e r n o r

of

U p p e r E g y p t was no mean disciple of this illustrious l e a d e r ; but the habit has become more and more uncommon ; European influence and increased prices h a v e discouraged alike plurality of w i v e s and divorce ; and wise legislation, and, better still, g o o d examples from A n g l o - E g y p t i a n s , would soon turn the

Mohammadans

of

Egypt

into

genuine monogamists. T h e r e would be much more excuse for

UPPER STORY WITH PROJF.

the women to demand polyandria than for the men to ask for p o l y g y n a x i a ; for while the one husband can g o about and e n j o y himself as he pleases, the women of his family are often hard pushed to it to find any diversion in their dull lives.

S o m e t i m e s they m a k e up a party and

SOCIAL

i8

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

engage a whole public b a t h ; and then the screams of laughter bear witness how the girls of E g y p t enjoy a romp and a frolic.

Or else the mistress goes in state to call upon some friends,

mounted upon the high ass, enveloped in a balloon of black silk, her face, concealed all but the eyes by a white veil, and attended by a trusty man-servant.

T h e s e visits to other harims are the

chief delights of the ladies of Cairo : unlimited gossip, sweetmeats, inspection of toilettes, perhaps some singers or dancers to hear and behold—these are their simple joys.

T h e y have

no education whatever, and cannot understand higher or more intellectual pleasures than those their physical senses can appreciate : to eat, to dress, to chatter, to sleep, to dream away the sultry hours

a divan, to stimulate their husband's affections

and keep him to themselves—this is to live,

in a harim !

An

Englishwoman asked an Egyptian lady how she passed her time. •' I sit on this sofa," she answered, " a n d when I am tired, I cross over and sit on that."

Embroidery is one of the few occupations

of the harim ; but no lady thinks of busying herself with the flower-garden which is often attached to the house..

Indeed, the

fair hoaris we imagine, behind the lattice-windows of the harim, DILAPIDATED

WINDO

are very dreary uninteresting people ; they know nothing, and take

but an indifferent interest in anything that goes on : they are just beautiful, and nothing more. Of course, the stranger does not see the true " Light of the H a r i m " at all: the only women who will show themselves unveiled to him are those of the lower orders, and the peculiar caste of Ghawazy, or dancing-girls.

T h e forms of the peasant

women are often singularly noble and well developed ; but their faces are not striking, except for the lustrous eyes.

T h e Ghawazy

arc, so far as I have seen them, uniformly ugly and repulsive. But neither of these is a type of oriental loveliness : the. beautiful Circassians, "sights to dream of, not to tell,'' the warm-skinned Gallas, and the other beauties of the rich man's harim, are not to be seen by the profane eyes of strangers.

It is true the modern

belle is not quite so particular about hiding her charms as her grandmother was (and is); the wives of pashas now drive along the Shubra road, on Friday and Sunday afternoons, with the thin gauze yashmak of Constantinople, instead of the opaque white veil of Egypt.

Still, we hardly get a good look at them, and

must go to the native essayists to learn what a woman's beauty ought to be to fulfd the demands of A r a b taste.

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

J

Although ladies' figures in E g y p t do certainly tend towards embonpoint, of central Africa is not the A r a b ideal of a beauty.

9

the weighty fair

T h e maid of enchanting loveliness,

to whom poets and Khalifs devoted their most passionate lays and vows, is, contrariwise, slenderly graceful, " l i k e the twig of the oriental willow." her dusky locks fall in a cascade to her waist. enhances rhe fascination of her blush.

H e r face is like the full moon, and

A mole, like a d r o p of ambergris upon a ruby,

H e r eyes arc " i n t e n s e l y black, large, a n d long, of

the form of an almond : they are full of brilliancy, but this is softened by a lid slightly depressed, a n d by long silken lashes, giving a t e n d e r a n d languid expression that is full of

SAKKA. OR WATER-CARRIER, WITH GOATSKIN FILLED. enchantment, and scarcely to be improved by the adventitious aid of the black border of K o h l ; for this the lovely maiden a d d s r a t h e r for the sake of fashion than necessity, h a v i n g what the A r a b s term natural Kohl.

T h e eyebrows arc thin a n d arched, the forehead is wide

a n d fair as ivory ; the nose s t r a i g h t ; the mouth, small; the lips of a brilliant red, a n d the teeth ' l i k e pearls set in coral.'

T h e forms of the bosom are compared to two p o m e g r a n a t e s ;

the waist is slender ; the hips are wide and large ; the feet and hands s m a l l ; the fingers tapering, and their extremities dyed with the deep orange-red i m p a r t e d b y the leaves of the henna.

T h e maid in whom these charms are combined exhibits a lively image of ' t h e I)

2

20

SOCIAL

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

rosy-fingered Aurora'; her lover knows neither night nor sleep in her presence and the constellations of heaven arc no longer seen by him when she approaches."* Such is the Arabian beauty of the poets.

It is to be feared, however, that in these

degenerate days the great pashas of the East are not contented with mere beauty, but have acquired a meretricious taste for coquetry in their mistresses : they want to be amused and teased, as well as charmed.

Hence, they sometimes seek their partners in Europe, and the following translation of a Turkish ode in praise of Greek girls shows that the Ottoman taste inclines to the grisette order of feminine accomplishments : . . . . If a mistress thou s>.ould'st seek. Then I pray thee let thy loved one be a Greek, I'nto her the fancies of the joyous bend, For there's leave to woo the Grccian girl. my friend ! Caskets of coquetry are the Grecian maids, And their grace the rest of wo man kind degrades. What that slender waist, so delicate and slight! Whni those gentle words the sweet toripue cloth indite I What those blandishments, that he art-attracting talk ! What that olcgance, that heart-attracting walk ! What thai figure, as a cypress, tall and free, In the park of God's creation a young tree '. Given those disdainful airs to her atone, And her legacy—that accent and tbr.t tone ? Strung the regal pearls of her enchantirg speech, Pounded seem they when her gentle mouth they reach. Moving lithely, she from side to side will lurn, Thai the hearts of all her lovers she may burn. That cap, which on one side she daily wears, That jaunty otep, those joyous, heedlcs« airs ; Those motions—they are just to our del:;ht; And her tripping on two toes, how fair a sight: 'Twas as though with fire her pathway were inlaid, That would b a m the feet of yonder mooiuikc maid. Thou would'st deem her lovers' hearts upon her way. Burning with their love for her, all scattered lay, '

A young lady, such as the Ottoman poet imagines, exists no doubt in many an Egyptian harim ; but she does not impart her peculiar graces to her native sisters.

In truth the Egyptian

ladies

cannot venture to give themselves airs; they suffer from the low opinion which all Mohammadans entertain of the fair sex.

The

unalterable iniquity of womankind is an incontrovertible fact among the men of the E a s t ; it is part of their religion.

For did not the blessed Prophet say, " I stood at the gate of Paradise,

and lo ! most of its inhabitants were the poor : and I stood at the gate of Hell, and lo! most of its inhabitants were women ?"

Is it not, moreover, a physiological fact that woman was made

* I .aire : "Arabian Society in the Middle Ages," cd. S. I.ane-Poole. pages 214, 215. F.. J . W. G i b b : " Ottoman Poetry," pages 142-44. 1S82.

18S3

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

21

out of a crookcd rib of A d a m , which if you tried to bend it would break, and if you left it alone it would always remain crooked ?

A n d is it not related that w h e n the D e v i l heard of

the creation of woman, he w a s delighted, and said, " T h o u art half of my host, and thou art the depositor)' of my secret, and thou art m y arrow with which I shoot and miss n o t ! "

It is no

wonder that a learned doctor g a v e a d v i c c to his disciple, before

he entered

upon

an\ serious undertaking, " t o consult ten intelligent persons

a m o n g his particular

friends, or if he have not more than five such friends, let him consult each of them t w i c e ; or if he have not more than one friend, he should consult him ten times, at ten different visits; if he h a v e not one to consult, let him return to his wife and consult her, and w h a t e v e r she advises him to do, let him do the contrary : so shall he proceed rightly in his affair and attain his o b j e c t . " * this

pious

always

F o l l o w i n g in the steps of

Father,

treated

the

Muslims

women

order of beings,

as

an

have

inferior

necessary, indeed, and

ornamental, but certainly not entitled to respect

or deference.

Flence

they

do

not educate their daughters ; hence they seek in their w i v e s beauty and docility, and treat them either as pretty toys, to In: played away,

with

and

or as useful

economy,

good

to

broken

and

links in the bear

cast social

children

and

order a household ; but to r e g a r d as

helpmeets,

troubles

to share with

and hopes,

to repose

them

them in

his their

consolation, and rouse himself under their encouragement

ancl c o u n s e l , — a r e

ideas

which could not enter a Muslim's head.

A WATCHMAN.

T h e wife, e x c e p t perhaps a m o n g a few Europeanised

i iirks, is in E g y p t a l w a y s part of a lower creation.

Very

often she may not e v e n eat her

meals with her lord, w h o devours his food apart from his d e v o t e d slave, and w h e n he has finished she may begin, unless he calls her to minister to his amusement and pleasure. * Lane : "Arabian Society in the Middle Ages," page 220,

22

SOCIAL

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

T h e s e meals are very simple affairs, and the E g y p t i a n is no gourmet.

IN' TI1F. C A R P E T

A f t e r e v e r y one

BAZAAR.

has washed his hands, or rather has had water poured over them, the d i n n e r - p a r t y sit down on

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

23

the carpet, or some on the carpct and some on the corners of the divan, so as to surround the l a r g e tinned tray which has a l r e a d y b e e n placed upon the little inlaid table and furnished with l a r g e cakes of bread, spoons, and g l a s s e s or cups, but no tablecloth, k n i v e s , or forks.

T h e cakes

of bread s e r v e as plates, our fingers as k n i v e s and f o r k s ; the towels w e w i p e d our hands with, as napkins.

A f t e r s a y i n g " in the n a m e of G o d " (bis-millah), the host begins the repast by

plunging his spoon into the bowl of soup, a n d the guests follow his e x a m p l e : the spoons plying b e t w e e n the one bowl a n d the several mouths with considerable effect.

Then

some

made-

dishes a r e brought in, and

each

man

little

arms

himself

with

a

piece of bread, and holding it to the

cclge

thumb

of

and

the dish first

two

with

the

fingers

of

his right h a n d — t h e left is n e v e r used at meals e x c e p t in cases of extreme necessity—draws

a

por-

tion of meat upon it and c o n v e y s il to his mouth. a

really

clean

least in polite most dishes. very

easy

T h e operation is a n d tidy society

one, and

at

with

I t is not, h o w e v e r ,

to

carry

a

load

of

haricot beans, done in o i l to the mouth without a s l i p ;

and

food

that has to be c o n v e y e d g i n g e r l y also requires to be deposited well inside the l i p s ; so that the inexperienced

E u r o p e a n cannot

reflecting 011 the number of

help fingers

that g o with the beans right into the mouths, a n d then all g o b a c k into the s a m e dish.

BOWWABS OR DOORKFF.PEKS.

A more unpleasant sight, h o w e v e r , to the uninitiated is the m a n a g e m e n t

of the whole lamb, which g e n e r a l l y f o r m s the piccc

de résis ta nee of an E g y p t i a n banquet.

T h i s i.i one of those cases of sheer necessity w h e r e the left hand m a y be brought into use, but some

fine

carvers

can

dispense

with

it e v e n

here.

The

operator

thrusts

his

two

thumbs d e e p into the flesh of the lamb, and then g r u b b i n g with his fingers tears out hu^e shapeless hunks, disjecta the guests.

membra,

a n d h a n d s them in his fists, shining with grease, to each o f

It is one of the most awful sights that the W e s t e r n stomach lias to a c c o m m o d a t e

SOCIAL

24 itself to.

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

. T h e r e n d i n g and mauling o f the lamb, and the v i e w o f the successive coatings o f d i f f e r e n t v a r i e t i e s o f g r e a s e and o f juice, hot and cold, savoury and sweet, accumulated, like arrears o f wall-paper, o n e upon the other, on the same b r o w n hand wrist,

are,

however,

trying

parts

of

an

the

only

Arab

and

seriously

dinner.

The

c o o k i n g is g e n e r a l l y admirable, the v a r i e t y o f dishes

surprising, and as soon as o n e

has g r o w n accustomed to the principle o f in

common,

doubt that a dîner

having

mouths

à Varabe

preferable

to

the

Mr.

dishes

Lane :

small

pieces

vegetables,

and

no

dinners

" A m o n g the m o r e

are the

" Lamb

is

is infinitely

pseudo-French

o n e g e t s at the hotels. common

there

or

following,"

says

mutton

into

stewed

cut

with

and sometimes w i t h

various peaches,

apricots, or j u j u b e s and sugar ; cucumbers, or small gourds, or the fruit o f the or w h i t e minced MOSQUE

OF M O H A M M A D

meat,

lettuce-leaf

'ALY.

black

e g g plant, stuffed w i t h rice vine-leaves,

or

cabbage-leaf,

or

and

pieces

of

enclosing

a

similar composition ; small morsels o f lamb or mutton, roasted on skewers, and called k e b â b ; „

f o w l s s i m p l y roasted or boiled, or b o n e d

I

I

and

I

•

crumbled bread, and parsley, and various

stuffed

with

kinds o f pastry.

raisins,

pistachio-nuts,

T h e repast is f r e q u e n t l y

o p e n e d w i t h soup, and is g e n e r a l l y e n d e d w i t h b o i l e d rice, m i x e d with a little butter, and. seasoned w i t h salt and p e p p e r ; a n d after this is served, a water-mc-lon or o t h e r fruit,

or a b o w l

of

a

s w e e t drink

com-

posed o f w a t e r w i t h raisins, and s o m e t i m e s other kinds o f fruit, b o i l e d in it, and I

...'••

! CURO WINDMILLS.

sugar w i t h when cool."

then

a little rose w a t e r a d d e d t o it Many

o f these dishes

and

preparations a r e e x c e e d i n g l y tasty, and it is a m a r v e l that E u r o p e a n s l i v i n g in the H a s t d o n o t c o m m o n l y adopt them.

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

2

5

A n A r a b dinner is a v e r y sedate affair; only water is d r u n k with it, " c h a m p a g n e du Nil," as our host at Luxor facetiously called i t ; a n d it is not often that music or laughter enlivens the banquet,

a

hired

singer is sometimes

intro-

duced

though

on g r e a t

occasions.

It: was not thus with

the

feasts in " the golden prime of

the

good

Harun

Er-

Rashid," nor with the revels of many a n o t h e r epoch of Mohammadan

history,

as

described in the writings of the

revellers

themselves.

W i n e was no less forbidden then than now, but a poetkhalif could write :— I run to the wine-cup at morning, I take t h e same journey o' nights : On. my life, I can see no h a r m in a deed which my soul delights ; And one whom mine eye? confound with lite moon, as she shines at t h e full— W h o ¡R h u m a n , indeed, but of humankind the most beautiful— Tendered me wine from the hand, and wine from the honeyed lips. And made me alone twice drunk in a circle My comrades are all asleep ere my eyelids begin to droop, Yet I a m the first of them till to run for my morning stoup.

T h e s e lines belong to the four-bottle age of A r a bian toping, a time

when

every m a n in the c h a r m e d circle

had

" his

ain

pint

stoup," a n d emptied it pretty often.

The

Arabs

ever vulgar epicures,

were they

did not understand refined E N T R A N C E T O AN O L D

gluttony, and frankly ate to get full and d r a n k to get drunk.

HOUSE.

T h e y prepared themselves carefully for the entertainment,

put on their best clothes, scented their beards with civet, and sprinkled their dress with r o s e w a t e r ; the table was gay with

flowers,

and the room was sweet with the incense of

SOCIAL LIFE

20 ambergris.

IN

EGYPT.

A n d when they were thus a r r a y e d , and surrounded as men should be w h o mean to

be festive, they set to their w o r k with ail astonishing will.

T h e huge banquets chroniclcd in

A r a b i a n histories s e e m incredible.

In one ease

w e read of a table laid with twenty-one immense dishes, each of which contained t w e n t y - o n e b a k e d sheep, three y e a r s old a n d fat, and three hundred and fifty pigeons and fowls, h e a p e d UJJ> to a m a n ' s height a n d cased in s w e e t m e a t ; while b e t w e e n these l a r g e chargers, five hundred lesser dishes held each s e v e n f o w l s and a quantity of sweetmeats.

and

weighing

two

near

shoulder-poles.

a

huge ton,

sugary were

edifices, brought

A t such a f e a s t a man

each in

on

might

eat his .sheep or two without attracting r e m a r k . It needed a g o o d deal of liquid to w a s h d o w n repasts of this heroic model, a n d there is reason to b e l i e v e that the M u s l i m s of those d a y s did not spare the cellars of " t h e famous N u s h i r w a n the G o o d " stored With wine, which the jovial friars of old I l a v c carefully laid up in store, 111 readiness there for their feast days to J old— WiLh liquor, of which, if a man were b u : told. He'd roll away drank from the door.

T h e r e is indeed a case on r e c o r d of a m a n who became would

so intoxicated

not b u d g e

until

he

that he v o w e d

he

had embraced

the

moon, and, persisting in e x t e n d i n g loving a r m s towards that luminary, fell and b r o k e his n o s e ; and,

011

being

i n f o r m e d of the

cause

of

this

disaster n e x t morning, r e s o l v e d n e v e r a g a i n to taste a liquor that could m a k e such a fool of a man.

B u t this penitent w a s an exception : M u s -

lims in g e n e r a l do not understand the pleasure of drinking without g e t t i n g actually drunk, a n d it must be f e a r e d that most of the feasts of the DOOR A N D W O O D E N

LOCK.

G o l d e n P r i m e at B a g h d a d ended, if not under the table, upon the floor.

« W i n e is the body, music the soul, a n d j o y is their o f f s p r i n g , " says the pious j u d g e w h o .vrote in A r a b i c a famous but highly indecorous history of toping : and the banquet w a s not

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

c o m p l e t e without the p r e s e n c e of the " h e a v e n l y M a i d . " w o m e n a d d e d to the delights of the feast.

27

T h e voices of s i n g i n g - m e n a n d singing-

A b e a u t e o u s slave-girl, with a f a c e like the full

m o o n a n d a willowy form, r a v i s h e d m e n ' s h e a r t s , while s h e s a n g them s o f t s a d A r a b i a n ditties, co the a c c o m p a n i m e n t of the lute, till they fell upon their b a c k s with rapture, a n d " their reason departed from them."

A n d the i n t e r v a l s o f s o n g w e r e e n l i v e n e d b y the sallies of a w i t — n o

more punster, though he could pun on occasion, but a m a n o f letters, well s t o r e d with the literature finish

of

a

the

broken

Arabs,

able

quotation,

to

gifted

with t a s t e a n d discrimination in his compositions,

a

sweet

voice to s i n g or recite them.

and

with

Such

a m a n could b r i n g about a revolution, or the downfall of a p o w e r f u l minister,

S o intense w a s the de-

votion

Khalifs

of

and Wizirs

to

poetry a n d song, that they could r e f u s e nothing

to

p l e a s e d them.

the

poet

who

A b e g g a r who g a v e

a n a n s w e r in a neatly-turned v e r s e would find his j a r filled with g o l d ; a m i a g o o d r e p a r t e e w o u l d c r a m the mouth that u t t e r e d it with j e w e l s , a n d load the s p e a k e r ' s b a c k with costly d r e s s e s .

O n e p o e t left be-

hind him, at his death, a h u n d r e d c o m p l e t e court suits, two h u n d r e d shirts, a n d five h u n d r e d s t a t e turbans.

T w e n L y or thirty t h o u s a n d

g o l d pieces w e r e g i v e n for a s i n g l e couplet. poet

T h e s t o r y is told of the

Hammud,

Hishàm

sent

that

for

him

the and

Khalif bade

him recall a certain v e r s e o f which the K h a l i f could only r e m e m b e r the last word.

Hammàd

at once recited it, a n d the K h a l i f o r d e r e d one of the two l o v e l y s l a v e s w h o s t o o d in waiting to b r i n g wine.

T h e y b o t h d r a n k , and, w h e t h e r it w a s t h e wine or the g i r l w h o s e r v e d il

H a m t n à d d e c l a r e d he lost a third o f his r e a s o n .

T h e K h a l i f told h i m to s a y the lines a g a i n

and then a second stoup was b r o u g h t , a n d H a m m a d said, " O P r i n c e o f the F a i t h f u l , t w o - l h i n b ot ivy r e a s o n h a v e d e p a r t e d f r o m m e ! "

I l i s h à m l a u g h e d a n d a d v i s e d h i m to a s k what Jit

would b e f o r e the r e m a i n i n g third w a s g o n e .

" O n e of t h o s e g i r l s , " cried the p o e t ; a n d ' I k

28

SOCIAL

LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

Khalif replied, " Nay, but both are thine, and all they possess, and fifty thousand pieces of gold to boot."

" I kissed the ground before him," says Hammed, "and drank a third cup, and was

unconscious of what happened after"; till he awoke next morning and found the Khalif had been even better than his word.* Ibrahim el-Mosily, the famous musician, who assisted at so many of Hariin I£r-Rashid's carousals, as all readers of " The Thousand and One Nights " remember, received from his master a hundred and fifty thousand silver dirhems (of about the value of francs) as a first fee, a monthly allowance of ten thousand francs a month,

and

occasional

presents, which sometimes reached the sum of a hundred thousand francs for a single song; he was also allowed the produce of certain farms, three sheep a day for his kitchen, besides birds, three thousand francs a month for fruits and perfumes, and a thousand a month for clothes. When

he

And he spent died, there

it!

was not

enough money to cover his debts. The following story of an evening spent by another famous singer, Mukharik, will give a fair idea of how life was understood in the Golden Prime of Arabian Society. The singer tells it himself:— " After

drinking

with

the

Khalif a whole night, I asked his permission to take the air in the A CAI KEN E

IIOURIY1

Rus&feh quarter of Baghdad, which

he granted ; and while I was walkin 5 there, 1 saw a damsel, who appeared as if the rising sun beamed from her face.

She had a basket, and I followed her.

She stopped at a fruiterer's,

and bought some fruit; and, observing that I was following her, she looked back and abused me several times; but still I followed her, until she arrived at a great door, after having filled her basket with fruits and flowers and similar things.

When she had entered, and the door

was closed behind her, I sat down opposite to it, deprived of my reason by her beauty, and * See Lane : " Arabian Soci.-ty in the Middle Ages," pages n S — 1 2 0 ; and Saturday

Review, Dec. 2, 1S82.

THE

TOWNSFOLK.

k n e w that there must be in the house a wine-party.

29

T h e sun w e n t down upon m e while I sat

t h e r e ; and at length there came two handsome y o u n g men on asses, and they knocked at the door, and w h e n they were admitted, I entered with them ; the master of the house thinking that I was their companion, and they imagining that I w a s one of his friends. brought up, and w e ate, and washed our hands, and were perfumed.

A repast w a s

T h e master of the house

then said to the y o u n g men, ' H a v e y e any desire that I should call such a one ? ' a woman's name).

T h e y answered, ' I f thou wilt grant us the favour, well.'

(mentioning S o he called

for her, and she came, and lo! she w a s the maiden whom I had seen before, and w h o had abused me.

A

servant-maid preceded her, bearing her lute, which she placed on her lap.

W i n e was then brought, and she sang, while w e drank, and shook with delight. air is t h a t ? ' they asked.

S h e answered, ' M y master M u k h i r i k ' s . '

' Whose

S h e then sang another

air, which she said w a s also mine ; while they drank by pints ; she looking aside and doubtfully at me, until I lost m y patience, and called out to her to do her best : but in attempting to do so, singing a third air, she overstrained her voice, and I said, ' T h o u hast made a mistake : ' — upon which she threw the lute from her lap in anger, so that she nearly broke it, saying, ' T a k e it thyself, and let us hear thee.'

I a n s w e r e d , ' W e l l ; ' and, h a v i n g taken it and tuned it perfectly,

sang the first of the airs which she had sung before m e ; whereupon all of them sprang upon their feet and kissed my head. almost fled with ecstasy.

I then sang the second air, and the t h i r d ; and their reason

T h e master of the house, after asking his guests and being told b y

them that they k n e w me not, came to me, and kissing m y hand, said, ' B y A l l a h , my master, w h o art thou ?'

I answered,

1

B y A l l a h , I am the singer Mukh&rik ! ' — ' A n d for w h a t purpose,'

said he, kissing both my hands, ' earnest thou hither ?'

I replied, ' A s a s p o n g e r , ' — a n d related

w h a t had happened with respect to the m a i d e n : whereupon he looked t o w a r d s his two companions, and said to them, ' T e l l me, by A l l a h , do y e not know that I g a v e for that girl thirty thousand dirhems, and have refused to sell h e r ? '

T h e y answered, ' It is so.'

T h e n said he,

' I take you as witnesses that I h a v e g i v e n her to h i m . ' — ' A n d we,' said the two friends, ' w i l l pay thee two-thirds of her price.'

S o he put me in possession of the girl, and in the evening,

when ] departed, he presented me with rich dresses and other gifts, with all of which I w e n t a w a y ; and as I passed the places w h e r e the maiden had abused me, I said to her, ' R e p e a t thy words to m e ; ' but she could not for shame.

H o l d i n g the girl's hand, I w e n t with her

immediately to the K h a l i f , w h o m I found in anger at m y long absence ; but w h e n I had related my story to him, he w a s surprised, and laughed, and ordered that the master of the house and his two friends should be brought before him, that he might requite them : to the former he g a v e forty thousand dirhems, to each of his two friends thirty thousand, and to me a hundred thousand ; and I kissed his feet and departed." * T h e s e jovial experiences are past and gone. reprobated b y the g o d f e a r i n g :

T h e y w e r e a l w a y s stolen joys, and were

for M o h a m m a d the Prophet w a s not musical, and

musical instruments as engines of the D e v i l .

regarded

G o o d Muslims, therefore, should h a v e no ear.

* The Hal bet El-Kumeyt, or Race of the Rubs-, quoted in Lane : "Arabian Society in the Middle Ages," pages 173—76.

SOCIAL LIFE

IN

EGYPT.

W h e t h e r it b e in consequence of increased piety or increased stupidity, the modern Egyptian certainly has forgotten how to enjoy himself in t h e unholy m a n n e r of his ancestors ; or rather he has sobered a good deal in his way of enjoying them, and takes them less often a n d in moderation.

F o r the singers a n d performers arc still to be heard in Egypt-

1 h a v e heard

the sweetest piping in the world in a darwish mosque in Cairo, and some wonderful fiddling on the K e m e n g e h , at Thebes.

T h e r e is the class of 'Almehs, or singing-women, w h o follow

their art with considerable success, and whose singing has a strange charm to those w h o can accustom their cars to the peculiar intervals of the A r a b scale a n d the weird modulations of the dirge-like melodies.

S o m e t i m e s one of

these ' A l m e h s — w h o s e

respectable

pro-

fession must not b e confused with voluptuous t r a d e of the

the

dancing-girls—

is hired to sing after a d i n n e r - p a r t y ; but, as a rule, all musical and other

enter-

tainments are reserved for those special occasions when the E g y p t i a n m a k e s it a m a t t e r of conscience to revel,—such as marriage feasts a n d

the periodical fes-

tivals of the Muslim

Kalendar.

I t is

then that parties of ' A l m e h s are e n g a g e d to

sing;

groups

of

wanton

Ghawazy

dancers are introduced into the presence of decent women, to entertain t h e m with their ungraceful a n d allusive w r i t h i n g s ; a n d clowns a n d buffoons are employed to divert the guests with their grotesque a n d generally disgusting fooling; just as they diverted the ancestors of these very people in the days of the P h a r a o h s by UPPER

PART

the

farcical gestures a n d dances which

Mr. A l m a - T a d e m a has represented in his well-known picture of " Pastime in A n c i e n t E g y p t , " e n g r a v e d f a r t h e r on.

A s a quiet English citizen, w h o goes to his work every day a n d to

his doze every evening, a n d never thinks of festivities, considers it his bounden duty to launch out into untold extravagance on the occasion of his daughter's wedding, so the Egyptian, however poor he is, will rather pay cent, per cent, interest all his life, than not borrow enough m o n e y to celebrate his own or his family's weddings with p o m p and revelry. A n E g y p t i a n wedding is a very curious performance. of seeking a wife yourself.

I n the first place, you must not think

Y o u n g ladies in the E a s t are not wooed in person, a n d no lover's

eyes may see his mistress until he has married her.

Modesty, according to M o h a m m a d a n ideas,

;

Ï.!'"; : : ( . ' • " i f : * -

t

"¡'ÌIL-:

FC..\