North Wind Still Blowing

Descending the Nile, February 26th., 1867

It has now been twenty-one days since we left Assouan; ten since we left Thebes. We are only 236 miles from the latter place; 354 from the former-our progress having been much hindered by the persistent north wind. This wind, most of the time, has been a gale during the day. For a few hours at night it has been accustomed to slumber, enabling us to cast loose from our moorings and slip down the river a few miles.

The days do not go so dreamily by as if the air were more quiet. The wind is a thing of life. It is nature’s breath, and sets all things in motion. The surface of the Nile is ridged with flying billows. Upward bound vessels go rushing and roaring by. The sands along the sloping shore are caught up into high air, in great sheets, and scattered in showers over the whole breadth of the river.

The wind, moreover, brings too much cold for our comfort. The nights are gloriously starry. In our wrappings we pace the deck, admiring the splendor of Sirius and the planets, and counting the unwonted number of stars of the first magnitude. But the air is too chill to permit us the full enjoyment of this luxury. And walks on shore can not well be made during the day, in the face of the dusty gale. Still our daily life has many pleasures. Shall I give my readers some account of this life; taking for the purpose an average sort of day, when, there being no interesting ruins to detain, nor fiercely opposing winds to hinder us, we are in easy downward motion?

There is little temptation to sleep late in this climate. Half the mornings one wakens before the dawn. At this early hour the morning-star is visible, and the sight is worth the shortening of one’s morning nap. The first time of my early waking, seeing the light about me, and the outline of my window clearly projected on the opposite side of the room, and then the bright sheen on the river, I thought it was the moon which was producing these effects, and could scarcely believe my eyes when I found it was only a star.

Presently after this there is a stir overhead, of the men who, in their blankets, have snored the night away on the upper deck, and then a splashing is heard in the water about the Dahabieh, as the few faithful Moslems among our men, perched on the large rudder, or on the side of the small boat, perform their prescribed ablutions.

The flush of sunrise is soon along the Arabian mountain range. There are no clouds to variegate the hue, yet the sight is often surpassingly beautiful for the breadth and intensity of the matchless coloring.

And now the waiter is heard setting to rights the disorders of the cabin, whereupon, ignorant of English, he is greeted with a shower of salutations in the various languages of the Orient. One calls in Italian, “Abdallah, Bagnio fredda” – a cold bath being desired; another in Arabic, “Abdallah, Moie helwa” – fresh water being required. And good Abdallah answers, “bono” – “subito” – “hadeh,” and hastens from room to room, with whatever is needed. Abdallah is our teacher in Arabic, and is anxious for our improvement. When he appears at the door of any one of us, with his glass of fresh filtered Nile water, the following conversation is almost certain to take place: “Sabal Kayr” – good morning exclaims the waiter, and the greeting is returned. “Ente tyeb” – are you well, asks the waiter? “Tyeb kateer” very well, is the response; and the same question is asked of the waiter, when he answers, with apparently equal piety and courtesy, “Hamdoo–lillah – katter hayrak.” Thank God – thank you. There is time for a little reading, for noting the thermometer, and for taking a turn in the fresh air on deck before half past eight o’clock, the breakfast hour, when the “sitt” – the lady is called from her chamber with the announcement “Fotoor hadeh” – breakfast is ready – and we gather about our round table. The breakfast consists of two courses of meat, with some additions of eggs or vegetables. If our sportsmen have recently been successful among the pigeons, a dish of these is sure to appear at breakfast; otherwise an “Irish stew” takes its place; and when this stew has come on uninterruptedly for two or three mornings, the demand for a new raid on the pigeon-flocks is felt to be imperative. Whether the coffee is qualified by milk, at breakfast, depends on the very uncertain success of the dragoman in sending for the article to some neighboring village.

The first few hours after breakfast are regarded as the working part of the day. The sportsmen then pursue the pigeons, and the rest of us take our “constitutional” tramp, or, more probably, set ourselves to writing or to such serious reading as is afforded by Lane and Wilkinson and Spineto. The Dahabieh does, not commonly go so fast that those on shore, by taking the same direction, can not keep within hail of her.

As the day advances, the sportsmen and walkers become fatigued and return to the boat; those reading or writing are unable to make encouraging progress for the annoyance of heat and flies; the deck, with its awning overspread, becomes the place of resort, and an hour or two is spent in chit-chat, until dinner-time – 2 o’clock – arrives.

Pleasant it is if, during this interval, the dullness of the time is relieved by the appearance of an approaching Dahabieh. This occurrence affords a first-class sensation. In the distance, the flags of the coming boat are made out with our glasses; and, as she nears us, salutes of fire-arms are interchanged; the small boat of the descending vessel being meanwhile dispatched with dragoman, to learn and impart news, and effect an exchange of newspapers.

Dinner is the great event of the day. On this Haji Ali lavishes the wealth of his accomplishments, with a result which not only does himself signal honor, but affords his patrons unmingled gratification. The exhilarating air of Egypt is not without a sharpening effect on the appetite, and the three courses of meats, preceded by substantial soup and followed by pudding and fruits, are not found too plentiful a supply for the demand.
The dinner does not differ much from what we usually obtain at a good European hotel; although our dessert of dates and oranges reminds us that we are in the East.

We adjourn for coffee to the upper deck. This coffee is prepared Turkish fashion-strong and muddy – and is served in little toy-cups, called “fingans,” without milk, and for some of us without sugar. One soon comes to like this coffee, even if at first it has proved distasteful. Smokers will tell you that, in order to its full enjoyment, it must be sipped between whiffs from a pipe of Latakia tobacco.

The hours which now follow are the most passive and dreamy of the day. Lounging in easy-chairs, or stretched on divans, we listen to the creaking sakias, the wailing cries of the men at the water-sweeps, the complainings of camels, and, alas! the braying of donkeys; or watch the gliding view – ever changing, yet ever the same – of multitudes of huge birds crowding the sand-spits, and groves of palms on the river-bank, and distant bordering ranges of mountains. During this time, the sun declines and disappears, the glow of sunset kindles and fades, and the grand illumination of stars inaugurates the glorious night.

The lighted cabin soon invites us below. Abdallah appears with the tea at seven; and when the tea things are removed, a brief season is hallowed with social worship. Very cozy after this, until 10 o’clock, seems that little cabin – its table strown with books and papers, and all its inmates busily engaged in reading, writing, discussing sights seen, planning visits for the next day, or playing at “checkers.” A farewell look at the stars must be had before retiring for the night; but how many are the thoughts of home and loved ones, in this witching time, and how strong are the pulls at one’s heartstrings from the distance of many thousand miles, the deponent will not suffer himself to conjecture.

From this resumé of a day’s doings, it will readily be seen that a Nile voyage does not involve such an amount of “roughing it” as need deter the most timid or delicate from attempting it. On the contrary, it is a perpetual holiday, and the excursions – always excepting that from Girgeh to Abydus – are so many picnics; and the Nile voyage, for its ease, not to say its luxury, is just what the timid and delicate might especially covet.

The sights from our deck are more varied and entertaining than one would probably imagine, who has not seen the Nile. There is far more of life on the river than I expected to find. We always have about us a number of vessels, of various sorts and sizes. A tourist’s boat, or Dahabieh, may be a rarity, but not so the native vessels. Some of these, laden with bales of merchandise and a crowd of swarthy passengers, are in the through trade from Cairo to Assouan and the country above. Others, large and small, ply between the various river towns and Cairo or Alexandria – their downward freight being mainly wheat in bulk and water-jars. The days are almost invariably sunny, and the sight of the snowy sails of even the most black and wretched looking native boats, is beautiful in the distance.

Then the Viceroy’s steamers, or those of the company carrying tourists, meet or overtake us almost every day; sometimes several of them the same day. The smoke of these is discovered from afar, and their black hulls loom loftily on the wide level of the Nile. They all carry the Turkish flag – a red square ground, with white crescent in the middle, and a white star a little forward from the horns of the crescent. The Viceroy’s boats now and then have barges in tow. More frequently they convey officers of the Government on tours of inspection, or members of the royal family to some of the palaces on the river.

At intervals, along the shore, water-carriers appear – companies of women and girls – attired precisely like those at Boulak, of whom I wrote, and filling and conveying their jars in the same manner.

Then the men at the shadoofs, or water-sweeps, enliven the banks. On our way up we saw few of these for the first two hundred miles. The season for irrigating the lands had not quite arrived. But as we ascended farther, they became more and more frequent; until, in many instances, a series of sweeps, raising the water from the river to a reservoir and canal above the high bank, would appear every thirty-five or forty yards. Many tourists speak of the sakia, or waterwheel, with its endless chain of buckets, and its incessant creaking and groaning. We have seen and heard a few of these. They are turned by buffaloes – a pair being attached to each machine. The murrain, which raged here a few years since, has greatly diminished the supply of cattle, and man-power at the shadoofs has largely replaced buffalo-power at the sakia; although a pair of buffaloes driven by a child will accomplish with the wheel the work of six men at the sweeps.

I have mentioned incidentally the immense flocks of birds seen from the river. These deserve special mention. The variety of inland birds in Egypt is not great. Huge crows, of black and brown plumage mixed, are omnipresent. Pigeons and sparrows innumerable frequent the villages. Hawks, eagles and enormous vultures sail the air, keen for living and dead prey. But these are nearly all the varieties. One finds here few singing birds as he does few scented flowers. The twittering of swallows and the perfume of bean-fields are the most that he can expect.

Yet of water-birds; pelicans, sand-cranes, herons, flamingoes, geese, ducks, white ibises, etc., there is the greatest profusion. The pelicans are huge fellows. We had one on board the other day which measured between seven and eight feet from tip to tip. His bill was ten inches long, while the pouch underneath would hold over a pint. The large water-birds, of different varieties, associate familiarly; and on the same sand-spit will often be seen geese and cranes and pelicans, apparently holding solemn convocation and numbering literally hundreds. It is difficult to get a shot at the geese. They are wary, and on the exposed sand-banks there is no cover under which to approach them. One of our sportsmen, with his rifle, brought down four at a single shot from the deck of our Dahabieh one day, but this was a rare achievement.

By the bye, the said shot led to a “wild-goose chase,” the termination of which was as amusing as it was successful. The chase was made in the small boat, after a goose, which, although it had been shot through the body, yet had strength enough to fly a little, to swim a little and to dive a good deal. The pursuit was kept up for a long time – the goose succeeding especially well in his divings, staying a long time under water, and then coming up a long distance off and at a wholly unexpected place. At length, one of the boatmen asked permission to “go for him,” which was granted, though without much expectation of success. Waiting until the goose took another dive, the boatman plunged into the river. Both remained a long time under water. No sign of either was seen, until by and bye, when a longer suspense would have been painful, the man emerged dragging the goose after him.

On the river we frequently see not only vessels laden with pottery, but also pottery rafts, which are a curiosity. Immense numbers of earthen jars and pitchers are employed in this country, for holding, filtering and cooling Nile water. Every house has its supply of these, of various shapes and sizes. Those employed in filtering and cooling the water are of porous quality, permitting the water to weep through them. Evaporation from the moist exterior surface gives the desired coolness.

Well, most of these jars are made at Kenneh, five hundred miles above Cairo, and the jars are brought down the river, in principal part, by rafts. The rafts are made of the jars themselves – these being lashed together with straw or corn-stalks, and one layer being built up on another to a considerable height. Of course, when the raft is completed, one or more layers are wholly submerged. The pottery-rafts are guided with difficulty, by means of rough sweeps made of a small tree with its trimmed branches.

In coming up the river, we once saw a little more of these rafts than we cared to. Our men were tracking our boat, and had just brought her around a bend of the river, past which the current was running with great velocity. Two large rafts, at no great distance above, were drifting rapidly toward us; the men on them being hard at work to keep them off the shore.
We were breakfasting at the time. Hearing a great commotion on deck, and then feeling a shock, we ran out and found that one of these rafts had struck the bow of our boat nearly square, and that the other would with difficulty avoid its. The position was not without its peril to us-to the rafts it seemed destruction. The men on the raft which was fast on our bows, were perfectly frantic, and I shall not soon forget the extraordinary figure cut by one of them, who, entirely naked, ran up and down the raft, beating the air with both his extended arms and crying most piteously. Happily the raft soon swung off from our bow and went drifting by, without much harm having been done. Most of its lashings remained firm; but apparently as if to retaliate for the loss of a few jars, which were bobbing here and there on the river about us, one of the rough oars of the raft in passing us thrust itself through a window of our cabin, swept down a shelf with lamp and glasses, and frightened not a little the lady of our company who had kept her place at the table. We were obliged to pull the intruder entirely into the cabin and expel him by the door.

Only occasionally do we see any fishing going on. Men on the bluff-shore throw little circular nets into the river, with small success. More frequently the fish are taken by hook – a long line, with numbers of baits strung upon it, being sunk across the river and taken up from time to time, the process requiring three or four men and a boat of some size. The Nile fish thus caught are large enough, but the meat is flabby and flavorless.

Owing to the height of the river-bank above the level of the water, objects appear in great prominence along the summit of the bank, especially when relieved against the evening sky. At all times people are thus to be seen, walking and carrying packs, or bestriding the rumps of ambling donkeys, or accompanying their loaded and swaying camels.

Sometimes a funeral procession will be seen; the corpse, wrapped in a blanket, being carried on the shoulders of friends – men going before it and women following – the latter keeping up a melancholy cry. They are bringing the body to a ferry; intending to cross the river and bury it in the desert lulls beyond the reach of the annual inundation.

One day, when watching the river bank, I saw large droves of people hurrying along, each person carrying a heavy bag. There seemed to be no end to the crowd. When hundreds had passed together and were followed by a line of stragglers, and I thought there were no more coining, another similar crowd burst into view, and then another; all going pell-mell, as if some vengeful fate were in hot pursuit. On inquiry I learned that they were the inhabitants of some of the upper towns, being run off in a body by the Government, to labor on the public works far down the river. In perpetual terror of the army draft and of this impressment for labor, do these poor people live.

Thus far we have made few stops since leaving Thebes. Fifty miles below the latter place is the important town of Kenneh, lying a little back from the eastern bank of the river. Between Kenneh and Kossayr, on the Red Sea, is a much-traveled caravan route, over which the products of Arabia are largely introduced into Egypt. Kenneh affords most delicious dates; these being packed whole in drums, just as they were in the days of Pliny.

Opposite Kenneh, two miles from the river, on the edge of the desert, is the Temple of Dendera, the last we shall see of the sort. Leaving our dragoman to the business of procuring from Kenneh a stock of dates and of genuine Mocha coffee, the boat’s company paid their respects to the ruin. This is so much buried as to make no show at a distance; yet on reaching it and descending to its floor, its completeness and the beauty of much of its sculpture, make it one of the most pleasing structures of the sort that we have visited. It is roofed completely over.

Windows are always wanting in the walls of ancient Egyptian buildings; and even had it been otherwise in the case of this temple, windows would have availed little for lighting the ruin, on account of the mass of sand and broken pottery on the outside.

After advancing beyond the beautiful portico, with its many columns, and its celebrated zodiac in the ceiling, we had need of candies in order well to discern the outlines of the sculpture. At one side of the building we found a narrow passage, dark as night, running a great distance and descending to a second story. By the light of candles we traversed this passage above, descended to the story below, and pursued our way there until we came to a point where, amidst the suffocating air, innumerable bats hung in clusters from the ceiling. The walls of this passage, like those of the building elsewhere, were covered with representations of the Goddess Athor – the Egyptian Venus – who, by herself or in company with other deities, was exhibited receiving various offerings from different royal personages. Elsewhere the sculptures were much defaced; but along this passage they appeared in their original finish and beauty.

It is from these temple structures that the mythology of the ancient people of this country has been chiefly learned. This is most complicated and obscure. The deities are not only numerous, but each of them appears under a variety of representations. The work of Wilkinson on this subject exhibits great learning; yet, even apart from the intrinsic obscurity of the subject, his work is itself confusing. Its wealth of learning is a poorly digested mass. There are no salient points, naturally aggregating minor particulars about them. Instead, is a dead level – “a continent of mud” – in the midst of which the most earnest and persevering adventurer will be likely to stick fast.

It is commonly believed that the religion of the ancient Egyptians was one thing for the learned and another for the common people. It had its “esoteric” doctrines – its mysteries – for the priests and other favored persons; and it had its “exoteric” teachings – its foolish fables – for the rabble. The phrase “wisdom of the Egyptians” is of divine inspiration, and probably underneath their mythology was a system of abstract principles – a profound philosophy. Whether so or not, the representations on the walls of temples and tombs indicate a degrading polytheism; and I feel no regret at the prospect of never more gazing on the stiff human figures, with heads of hawks and crocodiles, which, in numberless repetitions, and sometimes in colossal proportions, deform most of the architectural grandeur of this country.

NOTE. – The following is an extract from the author’s letter to his church, dated February 17th:

“Recently I have been much among the works of the ancient Egyptians. The Scriptures speak of Moses being ‘learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians.’ And the evidences of their astonishing advancement in human learning are fully displayed in their remaining monuments. No one, who has not particularly examined the subject, would be prepared to believe what I have learned from eye-sight within the last few weeks.

“But the Scriptures also say that ‘the world by wisdom knew not God.’ And equally impressive is the testimony of the monumental remains of this country to the latter truth. The mythological system and the superstitious practices of the old Egyptians stand in most impressive contrast with their evident advancement in the sciences and arts. These very architectural works and capacious tombs, which, in their grandeur of conception and difficulty of execution, attest the one truth, are covered over with images of the gods, in the shape of birds and four-footed beasts and creeping things, attesting the other truth. The human intellect, unenlightened by divine revelation, made its first, and perhaps grandest, experiment in this ancient land; and we see the result.

“As a mere matter of personal interest, no doubt, every one would be pleased to see these remains of Old Egypt. It is worth while, if only for a thrilling sensation, to stand in the presence of those Pyramids on which the Patriarchs looked; and then to inspect architectural grandeurs dating at the several periods of Joseph and Moses and Solomon.- At Karnak, a few days since, I saw the sculptured representation of Shishak, victorious over the Jews; his invasion of Judea occurring, as you may remember, in the time of Rehoboam son of Solomon.

“But it is a matter of even greater interest, and certainly of greater profit, to read all the various Scriptures which have reference to Egypt, in the more vivid light which an actual sojourn in this land affords. Large portions of Old Testament history and prophecy have relation, more or – less direct and full, to this country; and the traveler here, in reading these, finds a fitness of terms and descriptions to the natural features of the country, to the disclosures of the ruins and monuments, to the perpetuated customs of oriental people, and to the well-known facts of secular history, which not only attests the veracity of the Scriptures, but clothes them with graphic power.”

From The Far East
by N.C. Burt, 1868.