Leading the Blind (28 page)

At the end of the journey, when the crew is paid off, ‘they also expect about 24 piastres each if they have given satisfaction; if not, they should be dismissed with no more than 6 piastres each, and, if at all unruly, they should have nothing but an introduction to the police'.

Before setting out for the south a few items of interest may be culled from the various guidebooks on Lower Egypt. At the village of Bebayt-el-Hagar, we are told in Murray's that the author ‘had the satisfaction of shooting the great enemy of the village, a large wolf, which in broad daylight was prowling about the field that now occupies part of the enclosure of the temple. It had been a great annoyance to the people, and had been in the habit of entering the village at night, and carrying off sheep, poultry, and whatever it could find; so that its death caused great joy among those who had suffered from its unwelcome visits.'

In the Wadi Natrun there were several monasteries, to which Arabs were not admitted, though if they had been they would not have made away with so many priceless Coptic manuscripts as did visiting Europeans. The Revd H. Tattam departed with ‘upwards of 50 volumes; among which was a treatise on Eusebius, not previously known, and on his return in 1842 he obtained four times that number of manuscripts, all indeed that were not used by the monks'.

He presumably received every civility during his stay with them, ‘particularly from the superior of St. Macarius; and I have reason to believe that the other Monasteries are equally hospitable. The room allotted to a stranger at Dayr Suriani is large and well lighted; but I recommend him to remove the mats before he takes up his abode there, otherwise he is not likely to pass a comfortable night, under the assaults of some hundreds of bugs; and he will run a risk of carrying away many score in his baggage, which may continue to torment him' – though I suppose the conscience did not torment those who carried away such loot in their baggage, a not so novel way in those days of financing one's expeditions.

Wallis Budge relates that the Revd Tattam sold his manuscripts to the Trustees of the British Museum in 1838, who the same year sent him back to Egypt, ‘to obtain the manuscripts which were still there, and of these he was so fortunate as to secure about 314, which arrived at the British Museum in 1843. In 1845 M. A. Pacho went and lived with the monks for six weeks, and in the end succeeded in obtaining the remainder of the manuscripts, about 190 in number; 172 of these came to the British Museum in 1847, 10 were sold to the Trustees in 1851, and M. Pacho kept back and sold several to the Imperial Public Library in St. Petersburg in 1852. At the present time there are no manuscripts of importance in the Natron Valley, and only those who are interested in archeology are recommended to visit it.'

Setting off down the Nile in his well-appointed boat, our traveller will be captivated by the town of Benisooef, which presents ‘the ordinary scenes common to all large towns on the Nile; among which are numerous boats tied to the shore – buffaloes standing or lying in the water – women at their usual morning and evening occupation of filling water-jars and washing clothes – dogs lying in holes they have scratched in the cool earth – and beggars importuning each newly-arrived European stranger with the odious word “bakshish.” This is followed by the equally odious “Ya Hawagee,” by which the Franks are rather contemptuously dismissed; and the absurd notion of superiority over the Christians affected by the Moslems is strikingly displayed in these as in many other instances. The “Faithful” beggar, baredly covered with scanty rags, and unclean with filth, thinks himself polluted by the contact of a Christian, whose charity he will not condescend to ask in the same terms as from a
true believer
.'

The people of the Nile do not have the same prejudices against dogs as those of Lower Egypt, though. ‘Some of the fancies of the Moslems respecting what is clean and unclean are amusingly ridiculous, and not the least those respecting dogs. Three of the sects consider its contact defiles; the other fears only to touch its nose, or its hair if wet; and tales about the testimony of dogs and cats against man in a future state are related with a gravity proportionate to their absurdity.'

Beyond Keneh, the author encounters the crocodile, a rather timid animal, ‘flying on the approach of man, and, generally speaking, only venturing to attack its prey on a sudden; for which reason we seldom or never hear of persons having been devoured by it, unless incautiously standing at the brink of a river, where its approach is concealed by the water, and where, by the immense power of its tail, it is enabled to throw down and overcome the strongest man; who, being carried immediately to the bottom of the river, has neither the time nor the means to resist.'

While one village abominates the crocodile, the next place may venerate it, which ‘was the cause of serious disputes with the inhabitants of Ombos, where it was particularly worshipped; and the unpardonable affront of killing and eating the god-like animal was resented by the Ombites with all the rage of a sectarian feud. No religious war was ever urged with more energetic zeal; and the conflict terminated in the disgraceful ceremony of a cannibal feast, to which (if we can believe the rather doubtful authority of Juvenal) the body of one who was killed in the affray was doomed by his triumphant adversaries.'

Thus we come to the great Gem of Thebes (or Gems, for the traveller is informed that he may spend weeks in this area with profit) and, on arriving, ‘horses and asses are readily obtained for visiting the ruins with guides, some of whom are intelligent, and well acquainted with all that travellers care most to see. Though many guides are deserving of recommendation, I am, from my own experience during many visits to Thebes, bound to speak well of the civility, honesty, and other good qualities of one of them called A'wad.'

In 1886 Luxor was still a rundown village, ‘unlit at night, and not in a prosperous condition', according to Budge. Thomas Cook, in December of that year, inaugurated his line of steamers from Cairo, and from then on large numbers of tourists transformed the place, until it became ‘a town suitable for travellers to live in'. Cook's improved the waterfront, encouraged local business ventures, and rebuilt die old Luxor Hotel. Trade increased, the streets and alleys were cleaned up, and ‘the natives began to build better houses for themselves, and European wares began to fill the bazaars'. A few years later, ‘Mr. Cook founded a hospital, and hundreds of sick and suffering gladly and promptly availed themselves of the medical assistance which be provided gratis.'

A minor industry grew up in the manufacture of spurious antiquities, and the traveller is warned against buying them, although ‘those who understand them and know how to make a judicious choice, not giving a high price for the bad, but paying well for objects of real value, may occasionally obtain some interesting objects. The dealers soon discover whether the purchaser understands their value; and if he is ignorant they will sell the worst to him for a high price, and false ones, rather than the best they have. Indeed a great portion of those sold by dealers are forgeries; and some are so cleverly imitated that it requires a practised eye to detect them.'

Before describing the wonders of the area Murray protests against ‘the manner in which some travellers visit its monuments, particularly the tombs of the kings, which are frequently lighted by
torches
. No one should be mean enough to spare a few wax candles for this purpose; and it is mere selfishness to obtain a great light by torches, with the certainty of blackening the sculptures by their smoke. A man should have some consideration for those who come after him.'

During his peregrinations the traveller is recommended to have with him ‘a small supply of eatables, and, above all, of water in
goollehs
. Each of these porous water-bottles may be slung with string (as on board-a-ship), to prevent the boat-men, or whoever may carry them, from holding them by the neck with their dirty hands; and moreover, they should not be allowed to touch the water, and should be made to bring their own supply if they want it.'

Perhaps the strictures against flaring torches that blot out sculptures and paintings acquires some importance when we read the account of the Great Temple at Medeenet Haboo: ‘The sculptures on the walls of these private apartments are the more interesting, as they are a singular instance of the internal decorations of an Egyptian palace. Here the king is attended by his harem, some of whom present him with flowers, or wave before him fans and flabella; and a favourite is caressed, or invited to divert his leisure hours with a game of draughts; but they are all obliged to stand in his presence, and the king alone is seated on an elegant
fauteuil
amidst his female attendants – a custom still prevalent in the East.'

This scene is described somewhat differently by Wallis Budge. ‘The walls of the rooms are decorated with scenes in which the king is seen surrounded by naked women, who play tambourines, and bring him fruit and flowers, and play draughts with him.'

The Baedeker of 1892 judges the scene from the strict Victorian point of view, as if Mrs. Grundy, the guardian of morality, is looking over his shoulder. ‘Rameses III is here represented in his harem. The nude maidens with whom he is playing chess, or who hand him one a fig, another a pomegranate, another a melon, another a flower which he smells, appear from the shape of their faces and from the arrangement of their hair to be captive princesses rather than his own children. This supposition is farther strengthened by the occurrence here of several representations of a distinctly immodest character. The vicious propensities of this king are gibbeted with biting scorn on other monuments. He himself appears to have looked with peculiar pride on his harem, which was rich in beauty of all kinds, and to have immortalised its memory in his Memnonium. At all events his reign marks the beginning of an epoch of luxury and immorality, upon which decay followed close.'

Travellers who wanted to stay in their boat as far as Khartoum would have been disappointed, for Baedeker's 1892 volume allows them to go only as far as Wadi Haifa: ‘It is much to be hoped that the time will soon come when the way will be open as far as Khartoum, which fell into the hands of the Mahdists on Jan. 27th 1885, when the brave Gordon met his death. The possession of Khartoum and the security not only of the Nile-route thither but also of the desert-route from Berber to Suakin are necessary conditions for the gradual civilisation of the Sudan.'

For a description of Khartoum we have to wait for Wallis Budge's handbook, which appeared after the Mahdi revolt had been put down in 1895. The expedition of Kitchener's troops up the Nile, their transport and supplies, had been organized by none other than Thomas Cook & Son, which firm had the necessary experience (and fleet of boats) for moving large numbers of people.

At the Battle of Omdurman, which preceded the liberation of nearby Khartoum, ‘the Dervish loss was 11,000 killed, 16,000 wounded, and 4000 were made prisoner'. The Dervish army was ‘mown down', Budge goes on, ‘by the awful rifle fire of the British and Egyptian troops, and the shell-fire from the gun-boats.' He tells us later that ‘of the wounded Dervishes from 6000 to 7000 were treated in the hospital which was improvised in Omdurman. Visitors to the battlefield may even this day find weapons and small objects belonging to those who were killed there.'

An architectural description of the Mahdi's Tomb concludes with: ‘The dome was badly injured in the bombardment of Omdurman on September 2nd., and since the building was the symbol of successful rebellion, up to a certain point, and fanaticism, and had become a goal for pilgrimages, and the home of fraudulent miracles, it was destroyed by charges of guncotton by the British. For the same reasons the Mahdi's body was burnt in the furnace of one of the steamers, and the ashes thrown into the river.' In case anyone should imagine that to have been the normal practice of the British towards their enemies he adds that it was done ‘on the advice of Muhammadan officers and notables; the Mahdi's head is said to have been buried at Wadi Haifa'.

All this would seem to be justified by the fact that: ‘In Khartoum itself business is increasing, and under the just and equitable government which the country now enjoys will continue to do so.' Dervish rule of the Sudan, it is pointed out, reduced the population from eight million to two million in ten years, a fate much like that endured by Pol Pot's Cambodia in the present century.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THE HOLY LAND

Murray strikes exactly the right tone in the preface to his two-volume 1868 guide: ‘The Bible is the best Hand-book for Palestine; the present work is only intended to be a companion to it.'

Even so, he loses no time in passing judgement on the people the traveller can't avoid meeting: ‘Their dress, their manners and customs, and their language, are all primitive. No European nation, with the exception perhaps of the Spaniards, bears the least resemblance to them. Like Spain, too, the best specimens of humanity are found among the lower classes. The farther we go from government offices, the more successful shall we be in our search after honesty, industry, and patriarchal hospitality. The Arabs are illiterate, and ignorant of all Frank inventions; but there is a native dignity in their address and deportment, which will both please and astonish those who have seen the awkward vulgarity of the lower classes in some more favoured lands. Whether we enter the tent of the Bedawy or the cottage of the
fellah
, we are received and welcomed with an ease and courtesy that would not disgrace a palace. One is apt to imagine, on hearing the long series of enquiries after the health, happiness, and prosperity of the visitor who drops in, and the evasive replies given, that there is some hidden grief which politeness would fain conceal, but which the heartfelt sympathy of the host constrains him to search into. It is disappointing to discover, as every one will in time discover, that this is all form. Still there is something pleasing in these inquiries, compliments, and good wishes, empty though they may be.'