Khartoum, and the Blue and White Niles, Vol. 1 (of 2)

After a pleasant journey through Lombardy, and a very agreeable stay at the city of gondolas and palaces, we arrived at Trieste on the 25th of September, 1850, on our way to Egypt. Our party consisted of my father and mother, my brother and sister, and myself. We had all travelled much, and were thus pretty well accustomed to the small annoyances, which those who leave comfortable homes in England to visit other lands, must expect to encounter. But it should be borne in mind that two of our number were ladies, which may show that the journey we contemplated was neither too fatiguing nor too difficult; many may therefore follow in our steps, and enjoy, as we did, a tour full of new and interesting scenes.

We hoped, before returning, to be able to penetrate far into the depths of Nubia; departing from the beaten track of Nile travellers, to reach the 14th degree of north latitude, and add our names to those of the few English who have gazed on the junction of the White and Blue Niles. Some of us might have had wild wishes relative to the undiscovered source of that mighty river: while others might have looked with some degree of apprehension to the task of making a road where none existed, and traversing a country hitherto explored only by men. We all agreed, however, to go as far as it appeared safe and easy; meanwhile to bind ourselves to nothing, but to be ruled entirely by circumstances; which, in fact, are the real guide-books of travellers—more especially in an unknown country.

The morning of the 27th of September, far as the year had advanced, was a most charming one; for summer, like other visiters, lingers long on the beautiful shores of the Mediterranean—never leaving the southern, and but for a few brief months the northern coast of that blue lake.

In the middle of the harbour of Trieste, gay with Austrian frigates, and Neapolitan corvettes, lay the ‘Europa,’ a large steamer, which was to start for Alexandria at half-past eight. Before that hour we were all on board; soon afterwards we bade adieu to Europe, and doubling the Pirano point, stood down the Adriatic, skirting its rocky shores that were backed by the distant blue hills of Illyria. Up to this moment we had scarcely been able to look round us, so crowded were the decks with shore-people, bidding adieu to Indian passengers, and Alexandria merchants; but when delivered from these intruders, we found ourselves in a large and commodious vessel, about the size of the boats plying between Liverpool and Glasgow. Some thirty persons were walking the deck, a few smoking cigars, and others lighting long chibouques, as if, on weighing anchor to quit Europe, we were already in the East. We might have thought that this was indeed the case; for the thick awning could not protect us from the intense heat of the sun; and the Gulf of Venice, unruffled by a single wave, looked more like a mirror than a sea.

As soon as we were well off, I observed a young Englishman, in a spirit characteristic of our country, attack the captain about the passage—as to whether it was likely to be rough or pleasant, with many similar unanswerable questions as though the weather could be insured for the next five days in the most changeable of waters. The captain—and when does that authority not pretend to know the future movements of the winds and waves?—averred that it would be a dead calm to Corfu, and thence a “nasty bit.” That the dead calm might to a landsman be a stiff breeze, I well knew; but the prospect of the “nasty bit” was really serious, and remained a bug-bear to all concerned till the end of the voyage. Like many such things, however, it proved more imaginary than real; and we arrived at Alexandria after a beautiful passage of five days, no one on board having any cause for disagreeable impressions.

Alexandria is flat, as is indeed all Egypt, up to the mountains which form the Valley of the Nile. We were nearly at the end of our voyage before we discerned any trace of the famous shores of Egypt; and then we saw only the summit of Pompey’s Pillar, rising up, like some witness from the past, to notify their antiquity and fame. Almost at the same moment, we distinguished the masts of the Pasha’s fleet, and about half an hour afterwards we could see the sand hills of Alexandria. At length, we reached the port, entering through a channel between two rocks, not two hundred yards apart, which constitute the natural defence of one of the strongest harbours in the Mediterranean.

The instant we dropped anchor, the steamer was surrounded by boats, some bringing off friends, and others sanitary officers; while many twenty- four or thirty oared boats, full of sailors of the Pasha’s fleet, dressed in white, kept continually passing and repassing, spite of the burning sun, with all the animation of a regatta. In a few moments our deck was covered. We had several ladies on board, who had come to rejoin their husbands: they had deserted them and fled to Trieste on the approach of the cholera—notwithstanding their conjugal vow as to sickness and health. Their neglected spouses had hastened to receive them, and were much affected at the reunion, sobbing like so many children. Whether this, however, was in token of gladness, or in lamentation for the loss of the liberty enjoyed during their bereavement, it were hard to say. I observed that the gentlemen kissed one another, and was surprised to find, on inquiry, that no relationship existed between them, but that they were merely acquaintances. The ladies, though it is their peculiar privilege in our own happy land, were not complimented with these marks of affection; so completely is the order of things reversed in this country!

Accompanied by a friend, who had kindly taken rooms for us at the principal hotel, we made our way to the shore, where a carriage and some donkeys, the animals most in fashion here, were pressed into service, and we proceeded towards the great square, the chosen quarter of the Franks. In the afternoon Mr.—— acted as our cicerone to the lions of Alexandria.

This, the first Eastern town to Europeans, and last of their country to the Arabs—is of considerable extent. The houses are all flat-roofed, and being chiefly white, look peculiarly glaring under the burning sun of Egypt. The principal European square is a very gay place; and there the traveller may take a last look at the mantillas, polkas, silks, crapes, large-pattern trowsers, and black hats, which adorn the English and French visitors and merchants, as they walk up and down on the shaded side, parading themselves in the latest imported fashions. Each Consul has his national flag flying from a high flagstaff, surrounded by a circular staircase, from the top of which he can command a view of the flat-roofed houses; the harbour sparkling with the flags of all nations, and the beautiful blue sea beyond. English people, averse as they are to public scrutiny, would, if exposed to it, consider these points of view extremely disagreeable, they afford the means of discovering all that is going on in neighbouring houses which they overlook.

In our way round the town we were obliged to resort once more to the donkeys, and, to say the truth, they made no bad steeds. They are a different race from those of England. The Egyptian donkey is always pulling away at his bit, and is anxious to be off as fast as possible. He never lies down, goes well, and scarcely ever seems spent. Instead of a saddle, his equipment is a cushion of carpets, strapped over his sleek and well-kept hide affording a comfortable seat.

The first of the Alexandrian antiquities that we visited was Pompey’s Pillar, which, though it bears the name of the renowned General, was raised by Diocletian. We could not but approach it with feelings of veneration, as a tribute paid in a remote age to genuine heroism, and majestic misfortune; but were disappointed to find that it was simply a column of red granite, of great height, placed on the top of a hill. We here, for the first time, noticed the disgraceful practice which has grown up among travellers in the East, of defacing the temples and other monuments of antiquity, by printing, smoking and carving their names on stones which, apart from historical associations, Time has rendered venerable. Pompey’s pillar has not escaped this irruption of the Huns and Vandals; it is emblazoned in letters, two or three feet in length, with the names of its barbarian invaders. I am sorry to add, that they are British, as were most of those which we met with subsequently. After expressing our disgust at the bad taste of such people, and their effrontery in so parading it, we left the spot, wondering how so noble a monument could have been subjected to such an outrage.

The hill on which this pillar stands, overlooks the burial-ground of Alexandria, which, like all cemeteries in the East, is outside the town. We learnt, on inquiry, that it is the custom to inter only one body in every grave; and we were much struck with the curious appearance the cemetery presented, each grave being marked by a little dome of plaster, instead of a tombstone; being thus covered over as a protection from the attacks of the numerous dogs that here prowl about at night. They are also often surmounted by an aloe, the emblem of Eternity.

We rode homeward by Cleopatra’s Needles,—two fine obelisks of red granite; one of them now lies prostrate, but the other, seventy feet in height, may yet stand for ages. The fallen column is the property of the English government, to whom it was presented by the Pasha; but a disgraceful parsimony has hitherto prevented its removal.[1] Though erected in honour of Ramesis III., an early King of Egypt, it is the name of the wondrous Queen, that serpent of old Nile, that lends interest to the spot, and we lingered to recal her strange, eventful history, not without a feeling of sadness at the change which, since that epoch, has come over her once mighty realm.

The streets of Alexandria are made of mud, battened down, which renders them very dusty; and it is difficult, as there are no pavements, and many people in the streets, to move along rapidly. Indeed, the crowds in the Eastern towns excite great surprise in travellers; and it was not till I went into the houses of some of the inhabitants, that I was able to account for them. In England there are always, except in the leading thoroughfares, more persons in the houses than out of them; but in Egypt, during the afternoon especially, the entire population is from home, except a few women employed in domestic duties. The children are playing in the streets; the industrious are buying and selling in the bazaars; and the idle, if poor, are lolling against the street walls, or, if rich, smoking pipes and drinking coffee in the coffee-shops. Here and there a carriage, full of gaily-dressed Frank ladies, preceded by an out-runner, dashes by, in the avenue cleared for it by the Nubian’s thick-lashed whip. Here a troop of soldiers, dressed in white, march past, to the beat of a drum, which sounds as if it were broken; and with the accompaniment of a fife, like a penny whistle, played grievously out of tune; while in another quarter janissaries, in their hideous costume, and armed with cracked pistols, hustle the people out of their way, as they walk up and down. Every place is full of people, all trying who can do the least, and kill time in the easiest manner; though occasionally, at rare intervals, some young English clerk may be seen bustling along, with his head full of business, quite indifferent to the scene around. He is a new-comer, animated by our national activity, and it will take some months to make him walk, and smoke, and loiter like one thoroughly acclimated.