‘He was a most expert logician,’ writes Zosimus, ‘but perverted his talents to evil powers, and had the audacity to preach what no one before him had ever suggested, namely, that the Son of God was made out of that which had no prior existence; that there was a period of time in which He existed not; that as possessing free will, He was capable of vice; and that He was created, not made.’ At the Council of Nicæa, held in the reign of Constantine, it was decided that Christ and the Father were of one and the same nature, and the doctrine of Arius, that Christ and God were only similar in nature, was declared heretical. Nevertheless, the Arians became more numerous than ever under the reign of Valens. As soon as the Christians of the West, writes Gibbon, had extricated themselves from the snares of the creed of Rimini, they happily relapsed into the slumber of orthodoxy, and the small remains of the Arian party that still subsisted in Sirmium or Milan might be considered asobjects of contempt rather than resentment. But in the provinces of the East, from the Euxine to the extremity of Thebais, the strength and number of the hostile factions were equally balanced, and this equality, instead of recommending the counsels of peace, served only to perpetuate the horrors of religious war. The monks and bishops supported their arguments by invectives, and their invectives were sometimes followed by blows. Athanasius still reigned at Alexandria, but the thrones of Constantinople and Antioch were occupied by Arian prelates, and every episcopal vacancy was the occasion of a popular tumult. The Homoousians were fortified by the reconciliation of fifty-nine Macedonian or semi-Arian bishops, but their secret reluctance to embrace the Divinity of the Holy Ghost clouded the splendour of their triumph, and the declaration of Valens, who in the first years of his reign had imitated the impartial conduct of his brother, was an important victory on the side of Arianism. Well might Dr. Arnold write that it was an evil hour for the Church when Constantine connected Christianity with the State. It is really wonderful that real Christianity survived that fatal step when the sword of the civil magistrate was drawn in its support. It is hardly yet recognised that the religion of Jesus of Nazareth flourishes best when free from State patronage and control.
IN CAIRO.
Covered with dust, parched with thirst, exhausted with hunger, burnt up with heat, I am landed at the charming Hôtel du Nil, in the gardens of which, filled up with American rocking-chairs, and trees bearing gorgeous red flowers and bananas and palms, and eucalyptus and banyan-trees all around, I realize as I have never done before something of the splendour and the wondrous beauty of the East. It must have been a fairy palace at one time or other, this Hôtel du Nil, with an enchanted garden. In the day it is intolerably hot, but the mornings and evenings are simply perfection. If there be an Elysium on earth, it is this. I feel inclined to pitch my tent here, and for ever bid adieu to my native land. The dinners are all that can be desired, the bedrooms large and lofty, and the servants, who, with the exception of the German waiters, are Soudanese—tall, white-robed, with a girdle round the middle—seem to me to be the best and most attentive in the world. There is nothing they will not do for me, and they are honest as the day. Apparently the dark boys have a good deal of the negro in their blood. I walk out to see the finebuildings and palaces which lie between me and the railway-station, but I cannot stand the bustle and confusion of the street, and soon beat a hasty retreat. The infirmities of old age follow me into this land of perpetual youth.
General view of Cairo
I walk outside the narrow and sombre lane which leads to the hotel in the quaint and ancient street Mousky. Let me attempt to describe it, and it will give the reader an accurate idea of Oriental life. The Mousky is the busiest street in all Cairo. Here meet Greek and Syrian, Anglo-Saxons, American or English, Armenian and Turk, Maronite and Druse, Italians, French, Russians, German, Dutch, and Belgian, and the vast army of residents, men, women, and children, of all shades and complexions, from the ebony-black Soudanese to the olive-tinted Arab, walk its length, penetrate its dark and confusing bazaars, and thereA street in Cairois nothing more for you to see. Donkey drivers, who beset me at every step, and the guides on the look-out for their prey, are a perpetual nuisance, even though they assure me they like the English and are glad to see them here.
Crowded together are nooks and corners where native merchants ply their trades, and the gloom of some dark recess is lit by the glowing blue and scarlet and purple of Persian rugs, and the glare of polished and embossed brass. In the street the modern descendant of Tubal Cain is hard at work, and the tailor plies his needle, and the cigarette-maker rolls up his tobacco in its thin wrapper of paper, and the weaver bends over his loom, differing in nothing from that used by his forefathers a thousand years ago. Eatables and drinkables of strange flavour and colour are exposed for sale, and pedlars meet you at every turn uttering hoarse and discordant cries. There is quite a buzz of conversation, but I cannot understand a word. Why, I ask, did not Leibnitz carry out his grand idea and give us a universal language? It would have saved some of us a good deal of trouble. The pavement is too narrow for anyone to walk on, as the shopkeeper sits outside smoking his cigarette, while the customers also do the same, and the street is completely blocked. You are obliged to get into the narrow way where carriages and donkey and luggage waggons meet you at every step.
Women abound, all clad in black, with a black cloth over their faces, leaving only the eyes and nose visible, and a cheek of pallid skin. The nose is covered with a little gilt ornament, I suppose they call it, coming from the forehead, so that you really see nothing of it.Now and then you pass a coffee-house where smoking and gambling seem to be going on all day. In the course of my ramblings I came to a street lined with scribes on stones writing letters for their clients, and was struck with the firm, clear hand in which their letters are written—all in Arabic, of course. Every now and then a swell passes me in his carriage, with a running footman to clear the way with a white or black staff. I expect to be knocked down every minute. To walk the Mousky in peace and safety, you require to be as deaf as a post and to have a pair at least of good eyes at the back of your head.
Tomb of the Caliphs of Cairo
Wearied, I return to the quiet and shady groves of the hotel, a large pile of buildings streaked red and yellow, with a grand bit of garden ground at the back, and a wooden tower, from which you may see all Cairo at a glance. All the houses are flat-roofed, and manyof them look unfinished, though not in reality so. I sink into a rocking-chair, light my pipe, and talk of the future of Cairo. I say I want to visit a Coptic Church, the church which was held heretical by the Orthodox Church, as they were said to have held imperfect ideas of the dual nature of Christ. One gentleman tells me I had better keep away, as the priests will pick your pockets in the very church. He has 300 Copts in his employ, and gives them all a very bad character. I ask as to the Khedive; everyone gives him a bad character, though he has discovered one wife is enough for any man. ‘He has the bad blood of his father and grandfather,’ says an Englishman to me. He has a thin veneer of civilization, but he is weak and ignorant, eaten up with ambition, and over head and ears in debt, though his allowance is £100,000 a year, a sum which should go far in a city where the price of labour is from two piastres to five, the piastre being valued at twopence halfpenny.
The people live exclusively on maize-corn, certainly not an expensive article of diet. The intelligent people are all in favour of the English Government, but, alas! the majority does not in Cairo, as I am told it does at home, represent the enlightened opinions of an intelligent people. I hear the shilly-shally policy of the English Government bitterly condemned. We are here, and must remain here. As it is, the people know not what to expect. There is no progress, but a terrible paralysis all over the city. ‘I like you English,’ said an intelligent native; ‘but you are here to-day and may be gone to-morrow, and then we who have adhered to England will all have ourthroats cut. We are like a boat between two shores, and know not whither we are going. The English must either stop or go.’ Our stay is to the lasting advantage of all the European nations.
We have wonderfully improved the condition of the fellaheen, who, according to all I hear, are not too thankful for the liberty we have gained for them. I met an intelligent old Greek, who deeply resented that we had abolished flogging—a little of it now and then, according to him, did the natives good. Manual labour is so cheap that it is used in every department. At the hotel I note that they bring the coals in in baskets, and in the railway-station I see a native employed in laying the dust, with a skin of water, which he carries on his back, using the neck as a water-spout.
Of all the cities I have known—and, like Ulysses, I am ever wandering with a hungry heart—I infinitely prefer Cairo, and am not surprised that it is becoming more and more the winter residence of the English aristocracy. It was a delight to live when I was there, and as I took my breakfastal frescoin the beautiful grounds of the Hôtel du Nil, with tropical plants in full flower all round me, a bright sun and unclouded blue sky above, the question whether life was worth living seemed to me an absurdity. But, alas! no one can look for perfect happiness—at any rate, on earth. In Cairo there are the flies, not so bad as I have seen them in Australia or America, but a terrible infliction nevertheless. One of my companions, Mr. Willans, the popular proprietor of theLeeds Daily Mercury, suffered much from them, and had for a time to give up reading and writing, and to wear colouredglasses, but I was let off more easily. In Cairo, for the first time, I realized what a luxury it was to have dates to eat. We at home, who buy dates at the grocer’s, have no idea how juicy the date of Cairo is.Donkey Boy, CairoThen the heat is great, and walking far is out of the question. But what of that? Directly you turn into the street the donkey-boy comes up to offer you a ride; and the Cairo donkey is lively, large, and white, andwell groomed, sure of foot, swift in speed, and beautiful to look at. An English coster’s moke is not to be named on the same day with the Cairo donkey, on which you can have a ride for a trifling sum.
Life and prosperity seem everywhere to prevail, and the station at Cairo conducts you at once into a fine city, with broad streets, well watered, and shaded by trees, handsome shops, fine hotels, beautiful gardens, and the inevitable statue of Mohammed Ali, who did so much to develop modern Egypt. Palaces of all kinds attract the eye, one of the finest of these being the residence of Lord Cromer. Cairo is distinctly a society place, though, perhaps, not so much so as Cannes or Nice, and living is dear, though cheaper than it used to be. French seems the language principally used, though the guides, who pester you at every corner, and the donkey-boys, who are equally persistent, have a confusing smattering of English. The resident English colony is chiefly composed of the diplomatic and Consular bodies, or of those connected with the different Consular departments, and of officers of the garrison. You meet many English soldiers whose appearance is creditable to the country, and amongst the birds of passage are many Americans. There are two good clubs for visitors—the Khediveal and the Turf, the latter chiefly supported by army officers. The theatre, where French plays and Italian operas are performed, is a very fine building. In the same neighbourhood is also acafé chantantin the gardens. All day long, under the bright blue sky, the scene is very animated.
But the visitors, although a welcome addition, do not entirely make up Cairene society. The gaietybegins and is mainly kept up by the residents, especially the British civil and military, who are always most hospitable at the winter time of year. Cairo is no doubt a court and capital, the residence of the sovereign to whom diplomatists are accredited from all the civilized Powers. But it is also a British military station, and it owes much of its present liveliness to the British officers and civil servants.
It was the British garrison that established the Cairo Sporting Club, where good polo is played, and very fair cricket, ‘squash’ rackets, and lawn-tennis; where there are monthly race-meetings, and officers ride steeplechases on their own horses. The big lunches, the pleasant afternoon teas, the dances and flirtations so constantly in progress, are essentially British.
Out at Mena, under the shadow of the Sphinx, there is a golf-course, and the caddie is an Arab boy in a long blue bed-gown, and you can aim your ball from the putting-green straight at the Pyramid of Cheops. Out at Matarieh, just where Mr. Wilfrid Blunt lives the life of an Arab patriarch, under tents, surrounded by his flocks and herds, there is a training stable, and the British sporting subaltern keeps his ‘tit’ there, and comes out to give him his gallops at early dawn.
But it is as you get away from the broad streets of new Cairo, and plunge into the bazaars and the narrow streets, that you realize what a bewildering place old Cairo is. The city of Cairo covers an area of three square miles, and greatly exceeds the limit of the old walls. On the south stands the ancient citadel, on a rock, memorable for the massacre of the Mamelukes. Of the most perfect of the old gateways stillremaining is the Gate of Victory. Above the archway is an Arabic inscription: ‘There is no god but God, and Mohammed is His Prophet.’ The streets are narrow and irregular, and badly paved, while the white houses, with their overhanging windows, are, at any rate, picturesque.
The bazaars are of all sorts: the leather-sellers have one, the carpet-dealers another, silk-merchants another, and everywhere purchaser and buyer seem to spend a great deal of time in smoking cigarettes. The gold bazaar is so narrow that three persons can scarcely pass; there, and at the silver bazaar, you see the artificers constantly at work. Coptic churches and mosques you meet everywhere. There is a good attendance at the English Church; there are also a Presbyterian Church, and two Roman Catholic churches. I saw the bishop of one of them, who was to preach, driving along in very grand style. The Wesleyans have also a chapel. The howling dervishes have also their sanctum, where they exhibit their peculiarly unpleasant powers. I decline to go and see them, as everyone tells me they are a fraud; and if I want to be deceived, there is the Egyptian conjuror always ready with his little tricks. He comes daily to the hotel to give a performance; also daily resort there the Egyptian minstrels, whose performances we all greatly applaud.
The English have a party paper called theSphinx, which, however, I fancy has little influence in the formation of public opinion. In Alexandria a daily English paper is published, which reaches Cairo about eight in the evening, but which gives little general news, and is chiefly devoted to trade and commerce.It was with a heavy heart I left Cairo and its bright and busy life for the gray skies and bleak winds of my native land. My consolation is that we breed better men than they do in southern climes—a fact of which the Roman Cæsars were aware when they drew their best troops from Britain or Northern Gaul.
The French complain bitterly of English influence in Egypt—a country for which we have done much, and which, if it ever becomes prosperous, will owe its prosperity to England alone; and yet it is the fact that the Englishman in Egypt lies under peculiar disadvantages, and that as much as possible English enterprise is discouraged and destroyed. It ought not to be so. We who have made Egypt what it is, who have fought its battles, developed its resources, improved the condition of its people, destroyed its corrupting and enervating influences, put its finances in a healthy condition, may be expected to have, at any rate, fair play there.
That this is not so, the case of Mr. Fell, of Leamington, one of the few men who have raised themselves from the ranks and become honoured far and near, is a notorious illustration. In 1890 he obtained a concession from the Egyptian Government giving him the right to make tramways in the city of Cairo. The particular department of the Egyptian Government which has to do with such affairs has at its head a Secretary of State—at that time the office was held by Sir Colin Scott Moncrieff—and a financial adviser appointed by the Egyptian Government on the recommendation of the English Government. Mr. Fell went to Egypt, had the whole city surveyed, and the plans drawn, a difficult task which occupied a considerableamount of time. In August of the same year he bought the steel rails, ordered the cars to be built, and did all he could to hasten the fulfilment of his contract, and, as a security, deposited with the Egyptian Government twenty-two Egyptian bonds of the value of £100 each. To still further strengthen his position, he had a letter from Sir Colin Scott Moncrieff to the effect that he was quite satisfied that Mr. Fell had complied with legal requirements.
So far all was straight sailing, but in April the Egyptian Government confiscated the bonds Mr. Fell had deposited with them, and also declared the contract null and void, on the ground that he had failed to comply with the conditions under which the contract was made. Mr. Fell had a long correspondence with the Egyptian Government of a very unsatisfactory character. In 1893 he returned to Egypt, and interviewed the authorities. Lord Cromer advised him to go to law. In his action against the Government, he was defeated on the plea that the letters written by Sir Scott Moncrieff, as Secretary of State, were not valid. In the meanwhile, the Egyptian Government advertised for a new concession in July, 1894, for which Mr. Fell again tendered, depositing a thousand guineas. In compliance with a request from the Egyptian Government, Mr. Fell again returned to Egypt, but found, on his arrival, that the contract had been given to a Belgian firm, who frankly admitted that they had paid so much for the concession that it was scarcely worth having. ‘My loss in consequence,’ said Mr. Fell to me, ‘is at least from £17,000 to £20,000, and this all through French intriguing.’
Such is a brief outline of a case of hardship, notto an individual, but the whole nation. Practically speaking, there is no British capital invested in Egypt except what was there previous to 1882. In the railway department, for instance, of late years all the works have been carried on by French and Belgian—to the exclusion of British—contractors. All the contracts for bridges which have recently been let have been let to Belgian contractors. The only companies that thrive in Egypt are French companies. Everything is in their favour. The law officers of the Crown are exclusively foreign, principally Corsicans, and they are able to control the native tribunal, notwithstanding the fact that there are English judges upon it; and to these Corsican law officers it is due that so much anti-English feeling exists in Egypt at this present time. Assuredly, Egypt makes us but a poor return for the money and blood we have spent in its behalf. We have a right to expect better treatment. If John Bull stands this sort of thing, he must be a poor creature indeed.
Anthony Trollope gives us an amusing illustration of the official life of Cairo in his time. He was sent there by the English Post-Office to accelerate the mail-service to Suez, and it took him two months to do his business. ‘I found, on my arrival,’ he writes, ‘that I was to communicate with an officer of the Pasha, who was then called Nubar Bey. I presume him to have been the gentleman who lately dealt with our Government as to the Suez Canal shares, and who is now well known as Nubar Pasha. I found him a most courteous gentleman, an Armenian. I never went to his office, nor do I know that he had an office. Every other day he would come to me at my hotel, and bringwith him servants and pipes and coffee. I enjoyed his coming greatly, but there was one point on which we could not agree,’ and that was as to the rate of speed with which the mails should be carried through Egypt. The Post-Office said it must be done in twenty-four hours. The agent of the Egyptian Government contended that it would take forty-eight hours at the least. For a long time they could come to no agreement. Both were equally obstinate. It was impossible, said Nubar, that the mail could be carried at such a rate. It might do for England, but would not do for Egypt. The Pasha, his master, he said, would, no doubt, accede to any terms demanded by the British Post-Office, so great was his reverence for anything British. In that case, he, Nubar, would at once resign his position and retire into private life. He would be ruined, but the loss of life and bloodshed which would follow would not rest on his head. Nevertheless, he gave way after many days’ delay and a good deal of smoking and coffee-drinking. The twenty-four hours gained the day. It is to be hoped that official business is done more quickly now. A two months’ stay in Cairo over such an affair may have been pleasant. It certainly was expensive, and someone other than Mr. Trollope had to pay the bill.
Lord Cromer’s latest report of the state of matters in Egypt is cheering. The finances are better. The income from railways, customs, and tobacco has improved. A great boon has been conferred on the fellaheen by the experimental money advances made by Government to tide them over till their cotton-crop is ripe. Hitherto they have had to borrow from Greeks, who, however admirable in the character of liberators,are not so lovely as money-lenders. They charge from 20 to 30 per cent. for their loans, and, in addition, always take back an Egyptian pound, equal to £1 0s. 6d., for the pound sterling. This is really more than an extra 2½ per cent., for the loans are not for a whole year. There are Mohammedan lenders, too. Their religion forbidding usury, they take it out of the fellaheen in cotton. The Government in their experimental loans have charged a half per cent. per month, or 6 per cent. per annum. The experiment was successful. Of nearly £8,000 lent between February and July, all but £20 had been repaid with interest by the end of November. The benefit that an agricultural bank would be to the smaller cultivators has been in this way realized by Lord Cromer, who suggests that private bankers should take the experiment in hand.
The Government has also been checkmating the money-lenders by sending them good seed at 58 pounds Turkish an ardeb, payable in three instalments, upon finding out that the usurers were advancing inferior seed at 70 to 100 pounds Turkish, payable at cropping-time.
The land-tax is now got in with certainty, whereas formerly the Government never knew what to estimate for arrears; the post-office revenue is improving; exports and imports have gone up by about two millions; the cotton-crops are better; the sugar industry is rapidly increasing in Upper Egypt; the railway receipts are the highest on record; railway extension is going on, and plans and surveys for light railways are well advanced; agricultural roads are constructed; there are electric tramways and lighting inCairo. The light dues will be decreased this year. The only relic of forced labour is a yearly diminishing amount for the protection of the Nile banks during the period of flood. Crime is diminishing, and sanitary reform is progressing. Education is advancing as far as possible, considering the deficiency of funds, and slavery is kept under.
As to the question when our work shall be done, and we English shall retire from Cairo, it is impossible, says Sir A. Milner, to give a definite answer. It would be difficult to over-estimate what that work owes to the sagacity, patience, and fortitude of the British Ambassador. The contrast between the Egypt of to-day and the Egypt as it was when he first took it in hand is the best testimony to his efficiency and wisdom. All writers on Egypt agree in this. ‘There is not a native,’ writes Mr. Wood, ‘that does not recognise at heart the benefits of the British occupation’—a remark which seemed to be to a certain extent true; but not quite to the extent Mr. Wood suggests. ‘It is quite an anachronism,’ Sir A. Milner remarks, ‘to suppose that the interest of Egyptian finance centres in the debt, and that the financial authorities of the country are the mere bailiffs of the bondholders.’ As a matter of fact, now that it has been established that the resources of Egypt can bear the interest of the debt at its present rate, the last people whom an Egyptian Finance Minister need trouble himself about are the bondholders. Except when an occasion presents itself to reduce the interest by the legitimate method of conversion, the debt need no longer have a foremost place in his mind. ‘Even the Commissioners of the Caisse,’ writes Sir A. Milner, ‘who only meet toprotect the creditors, and who from time to time, to justify their existence, get up a little fuss about some supposed danger to interests which in their hearts they know to be perfectly secure—even the Commissioners of the Caisse, I say, are more occupied now-a-days with employing their reserve fund in developing the wealth of the country than with needless anxieties about the coupon.’ Sir A. Milner has no doubt well weighed his words. Of all the romances of finance there are few to be compared with the borrowings of Ismail, to whom is due the honour of having originated the Egyptian National Debt.
THE PYRAMIDS AND THE SPHINX.
There are two things in Egypt which amply repay the traveller for his trouble. One is the museum at Gizeh, and the other the pyramids, especially the Great Pyramid of Cheops. I did them both in one day. It is a pleasant ride from Cairo, on a road broad, well watered, and shaded all the way by large acacia-trees. I did the museum first, though it will be a matter of regret to me that I had only an hour to visit a collection where one might usefully spend weeks, and that our guide indulged in an English almost as unintelligible to us as
‘The heathen GreekThat Helen spoke when Paris wooed.’
‘The heathen GreekThat Helen spoke when Paris wooed.’
The palace which shelters the museum is said to have been built at a cost of nearly 5,000,000 sterling. The edifice is placed in spacious grounds close to the river, just opposite the spot on the other side where Pharaoh’s daughter is said to have come to bathe when she discovered Moses. It was opened by the Khedive in 1890. The section devoted to the exhibition of papyri is remarkably interesting, but to most of us the gem of the collection is the splendid sarcophagus whichcontains the body of Rameses II., the persecutor of the Israelites. The features of his face are well preserved, but his head does not give you any idea of any special intellectual capacity; and the face of his father, who lies close by, is almost that of a pure negro—that is, as far as I could make it out. On one of the papyri is an inscription, of which I copy a portion, in order toColossal Statue of Rameses IIgive the reader an idea of the piety of the ancient Egyptians:
‘When thou makest an offering to God, offer not that which He abominateth. Dispute not concerning His mysteries. The God of the world is in the light above the heavens, and His emblems are upon earth. It is unto these that worship is paid daily. When thou hast arrived at years of maturity, and art married and hast a house, forget never the pains which thouhast cost thy mother, nor the care which she has bestowed upon thee. Never give her cause to complain of thee, lest she lift up her hand to God in heaven to complain of thee, and He listen to her complaint.’
‘When thou makest an offering to God, offer not that which He abominateth. Dispute not concerning His mysteries. The God of the world is in the light above the heavens, and His emblems are upon earth. It is unto these that worship is paid daily. When thou hast arrived at years of maturity, and art married and hast a house, forget never the pains which thouhast cost thy mother, nor the care which she has bestowed upon thee. Never give her cause to complain of thee, lest she lift up her hand to God in heaven to complain of thee, and He listen to her complaint.’
It seems to me that we have a good deal to learn of the ancient Egyptians yet.
To the Pyramids it is a drive of about five miles. When we reached them it was too hot for most of us to attempt climbing; yet several of our party did so, and came back delighted with the view they had thus gained over all the country round. I need not describe the appearance of the Great Pyramid, standing as it does on the edge of the Libyan desert—an enormous pile of stones, up which it would be impossible to climb were it not for the help of the guides, who are remarkably skilful in aiding the traveller in the perilous ascent and the far more perilous descent, and at the same time remarkably pressing for backsheesh. There is no evidence to show that the Pyramids were built for astronomical purposes, and the theory that the Great Pyramid was built as a standard of measurement is equally worthless. Outwardly, they seem nothing but a pile of big stones, broad at the base, tapering at the top. A French savant has asserted that the stones of the three Pyramids would make a wall round the frontier of France. The Pyramid of Cheops was builtb.c.3733. Its four sides measure in length about 755 feet at the base; its height is now 451 feet, but it is said to have been originally about 481 feet.
Of late, as I have shown, the trip to the Pyramids cannot well be easier or more agreeable. In 1868 SirStafford Northcote thus describes his experiences: ‘We observed nothing particular till we reached the Nile, when the scene of crossing in the ferry-boats afforded us unmixed satisfaction. The usual amount of noise in the streets at Cairo was as silence to the noise at the waterside. Hosts of donkeys were being pushed, pulled, beaten, or shouted at, and eventually lifted into the boats, and then shoved off with loadsPyramid and Sphinxthat looked very unmanageable. We had a boat to ourselves, and our donkeys took their places in it like old stagers. We had a pretty strong breeze in our favour, and sailed across easily enough, wondering how we were to get back again. Soon after crossing, we came into the fine new road which the Viceroy has made to the Pyramids, and which is perfectly luxurious. It is as wide as the Edgware Road, but not so hard,The Great Sphinx. (From a photograph taken by Dr. W. Ogle, February, 1888)and must be charming for a horse’s foot. Avenues of acacias are planted all along it, and when these have grown to the size of those which line the earlier part of the road, the approach will be in delicious shade all the way. Avenues of trees are inferior in dignity to avenues of sphinxes, but make pleasanter travelling. We were seized on in the usual way and dragged up the Great Pyramid by the Arabs. I could have got up a great deal better by myself, but it would have been contrary to all precedent, and might have led to anémeute. It took me twenty minutes to go up, including a good stoppage for breath and another for a wrangle between two Arabs. The view from the top was good, but one could not enjoy it much in the presence of such a crowd. The first thing my Bedouin did was to go down on his knees and offer to cut my name, which I indignantly forbade. He then proceeded to tender some coins (genuine antique, of course) at a suspiciously low price, and finally he urged me to come down quickly, in the hopes, no doubt, of getting hold of another victim.’
Sir Stafford adds that he admired the Sphinx, which is, in some respects, more interesting than the Pyramids themselves. Now there is to be a tramway to the Pyramids. But I fear the nuisance of the Arab guides shouting and pushing will remain a nuisance still.
As I sit under what little shade I can find on the burning sand, I am badgered to death by the dealers in imitation antiques and the donkey boys. The white donkeys of Egypt are beautiful animals, and sometimes fetch a hundred pounds. I have seen a gentleman whose donkey cost him that sum. The value of the common donkey to be met with in the streets of Cairois about seven pounds. The finest donkeys in the world come from Cyprus. The next best are those to be had at Syene, in Egypt. I could tell much of the artfulness of the donkey-boys. One of my companions was very stout, and did not think it right to gallop, on account of his weight. ‘Me too fat,’ said he to the donkey-boy. ‘No,’ replied the latter—‘not too fat; you fine man.’ Again, one of the ladies of our party was enjoying a ride, when the boy plaintively remarked: ‘Fine lady—fine donkey—poor donkey-boy!’ And the boy secured a little extra backsheesh. I could fill a chapter with the smart sayings of the donkey-boys. So far as I can make out, there is no need for the donkey-boy to travel to Ireland to kiss the Blarney-Stone. Alas for him, I was deaf to all his flattery, and plunged on in the burning sand till I stood in the presence of the world-renowned Sphinx.
At first I was disappointed in the Sphinx, but, like Niagara, the more you look, the more you admire. Poets and literary men have told us how it stands in the desert, and has stood for centuries, overlooking the eternal sands as nations and dynasties come and go. In reality its position is by no means elevated, and you don’t see it till you are actually before it. And yet one can in time realize something of that fine passage in ‘Eothen,’ written half a century ago, which tells how this unworldly Sphinx has looked down on ancient kings of Ethiopian and Egyptian origin, upon Greek and Roman, upon Arab and Ottoman conquerors, upon Napoleon, dreaming of an Eastern empire, upon battle and pestilence, and how it will remain watching when Islam will wither away, and the Englishman will plant a firm foot on the banks ofthe Nile. Originally it was crowned with a helmet; the stone cap was only discovered as lately as 1896. Mr. John Cook runs a four-horse coach to the Pyramids and back during the season, and thus, at the foot of the Sphinx, the present and the past meet and mingle. The age of the Sphinx is unknown. All that is certain is that it was the work of one of the kings of the ancient empire. A stele discovered of the time of Thothmes,b.c.1533, records that one day, during an after-dinner sleep, Hermachis appeared to Thothmes IV., and promised to bestow upon him the crown of Egypt if he would dig his image the Sphinx out of the sand. Another inscription recently discovered shows that the Sphinx existed in the time of Cheops. The Sphinx is here hewn out of the solid rock, but pieces of stone have been added when necessary. The body is about 150 feet long, the paws are 50 feet long, the head is 30 feet long, the face is 14 feet wide, and from the top of the head to the base of the monument the distance is about 70 feet. Originally there were probably ornaments on the head, the whole of which was covered with a limestone covering, and the face was coloured red. Of these decorations scarcely any traces now remain, though they were visible towards the end of the last century. The condition in which the monument now appears is due to the savage destruction of its features by the Mohammedan rulers of Egypt, some of whom caused it to be used for a target. Around this imposing relic of antiquity a number of legends and superstitions have clustered in all ages. A little to the south-east of the Sphinx stands the large granite and limestone temple excavated by M. Marriette in 1853.
And now I have done with the East, and my face is turned towards Marseilles. I am once more on board theMidnight Sun, the quiet and repose of which are infinitely refreshing after the tumult and bustle of Egypt. Long, long will I remember the gorgeous East—its heat, its confusion, its noise, its undying charm. To enjoy Cairo, you must go and stop there a winter. My fellow-passengers seem to have been lavish in their expenditure. One gentleman alone of our party expended as much as £60 in the purchase of carpets and gold-embroidered cloths, and for the ladies the bazaars seem to have had peculiar charms. I am sure Dr. Lunn deserves the hearty thanks of all our party for organizing what has proved to be such a gratifying time. His brother and his secretary, Mr. Wight, have done all in their power to make us comfortable. There was no hitch in any of the arrangements. Carriages and hotels were all of the very best, and the cost of the whole trip was really remarkably small. The ordinary traveller, making the trip on his own account, must have had to pay a great deal more, and experienced an amount of trouble and fatigue, and consequent loss of temper, of which we passengers by theMidnight Sunhave had no conception.
The Doctor calls his tours educational ones, and provides us with lectures. I did not much profit by the lectures, my hearing being, alas! rather defective; yet we all of us got a good deal of education during the course of our visit—the education which comes to all of us from the use of our eyes and ears, and the gift, or, rather, exercise, of common-sense.
I ought to mention that there is a very good hotel on your right just as you get to the Pyramids; manygentlemen I met were staying there, and spoke well of it. Some years since a gentleman suffering from consumption built a house, and went to live there in the hope that the pure air of the desert would restore him to health. It did not. As is the case with so many consumptive people, the remedy was deferred too long. Many are those who have gone to the desert to recover, but fade away and die, to the sorrow of those who loved them, simply because they have deferred the remedy too long. On the decease of the builder of the house, it was greatly enlarged, and is now known as the Mena House Hotel. Mena is the name of one of the most ancient Egyptian kings. All round it stretches the desert right away to the great Sahara, and there Byron might have realized his dream—which, happily, he never realized, nor ever, perhaps, wished to—of the desert being his dwelling-place, with some fair spirit for his minister,
‘Where he might soon forget the human race,And, hating no one, love but only her.’
‘Where he might soon forget the human race,And, hating no one, love but only her.’
It was well for the noble poet, whose fame will grow when that of our Poet Laureate and his brother rhymesters will have collapsed, that the elements did not hear his prayer and accord him his heart’s desire. But a fellow might do worse than put up at the Mena Hotel, of which I, alas! only saw the outside. One ought to stop some time at the Pyramids. Mr. Pollard, who devotes considerable space to them—the last authority on the subject—says the rocks upon which they are built, ‘and the stones with which they are constructed, abound with small fossil shells, which, from their resemblance to money or coins, have causedthis limestone to be called nummulite. Other round, small shells, closely resembling lentils, are also found; the Arabs say that they were the food of the masons turned into stone. The flora is interesting, though limited: an anthromis bearing its strong characteristic scent, but without petals; a very pretty small plant of the herbage family; and an umbelliferous plant smelling strongly of aniseed, were all much appreciated by the camels and snails.’
While I was there I saw no flowers, nor heard of any. They had all withered under the scorching sun.
THE RIVER NILE.
At length I gaze on the Nile—that marvellous river, the sources of which, though many have tried to find them, have only been discovered in our day. The history of Egypt is the oldest known to us. A large portion of its history can be constructed from the native records of the Egyptians, and those records are all to be found on the banks of the Nile. Four thousand four hundred years before Christ, Mena, the first King of Egypt of whom we have a record, founded Memphis, having turned aside the course of the Nile and established a temple service there. In the reign of Ammenehat, 2,300 years before Christ, special attention was paid to the rise of the Nile, and canals were made and sluices dug for irrigating the country; the rise of the Nile was marked on wells at Semnah, about thirty-five miles above the second cataract, and the inscriptions are visible to this day. A thousand years later Seti I. is said to have built a canal from the Nile to the Red Sea. Under the Roman Emperor Trajan the Nile and Red Sea Canal was reopened. Egypt proper terminates at Syene: the territory south of that town and each side of the new Nile is calledNubia. All Egypt depends upon the Nile; where the Nile does not flow all is barrenness—nothing but sand and rock.
The area of the land in Egypt available for cultivation is about 11,500 square miles; the Delta contains about 6,500 square miles, and the Nile Valley about 5,000. The country seems to have been taken possession of by a people from the East about 5,000 years before Christ. They found there an aboriginal people, with a dark skin and complexion. The Egyptians generally called their land black (Kanit), and the term is appropriate, if we consider the dark rich colour of the cultivated land. In the Bible Egypt is known as Ham. All nations have held the land, and have sent their people thither. But it is a curious fact that the physical type of the Egyptian fellah is exactly what it was in the earliest dynasties.
The river Nile is one of the largest rivers in the world. It is formed by the junction of two great arms, the Blue Nile and the White; one rises in Abyssinia, at an elevation of about 10,000 feet above the level of the sea; the other, the true Nile, has its fountain-head in the Victoria Nyanza, a huge basin far below the level of the country. The course of the Nile has been explored about 3,500 miles. From Khartoum to Cairo the Nile falls about 400 yards; its width in its widest part is about 1,100 yards. After entering Egypt, the Nile flows in a steady stream always to the north, and deposits the mud which is the life of Egypt. The breadth of the Nile Valley varies from four to ten miles in Nubia, and from fifteen to thirty in Egypt. The width of the area of cultivated land on each bank of the river in Egypt is never more than eight or ninemiles. The inundation caused by the descent of rain on the Abyssinian mountains commences at the cataracts in June, and in July makes a great show. The rise of the Nile continues till the end of September when it remains stationary about three weeks. In October it rises again, and attains its highest level. When I saw it in November the waters had subsided, and the peasants were hard at work, making the best of their opportunity.
The ground was still too wet for ploughing, but gangs were turning up the soil with hoes, and sowing the seed. It seemed to be simple work, under the blue sky and the bright sun. There was no need for high farming; Nature did everything, and the toil of the labourer was richly rewarded. It made me think of what Douglas Jerrold said of Australia—that it was a country so fertile that ‘if you but tickle her with a hoe she laughs with a harvest.’ And the harvest is wonderful. Commercially, the Nile is a fortune to Cairo. It is estimated that if all the land watered by the Nile were thoroughly cultivated, Egypt, for its size, would be one of the richest countries in the world. Till the Cairo Waterworks were established, the people of Cairo depended solely on the water of the Nile; and in Cairo, as in Jerusalem, the water-carrier is still to be seen, bearing on his back a large black goatskin filled with water from the river. At the Cairo railway-station he is always in evidence watering the platform and keeping down the dust. The short legs of the goat cut off at the knee stick out in a most grotesque manner when the skin is full and round. The neck forms the spout, and is held firmly in the left hand, to enable the carrier to sprinkle the contents wheredesired. The weight of some of these large skins must be very considerable. The skins used for wine are identical in form with these.
In ancient times there were near Cairo no less than seven branches of the Nile; only two now remain. Very busy are the people who have to do with the Nile in the vicinity of Cairo. A large open space at the end of one of the bridges is selected for the collection of the octroi duties levied upon all food and produce entering the city. Here the fellaheen assemble daily, with their camels and asses laden with produce, or with droves of buffaloes and oxen, and flocks of sheep and goats. The scene there is almost picturesque and animated. Another bridge carried over a wide canal, which forms an important backwater to the hill, connects the western shore. From this point roads radiate north, west, and south, each shaded by avenues of the acacia, so common in Egypt. The Ghizeh road is the southern one, following the course of the river, always alive with boats with large triangular sails, always redolent of busy life.
Egypt without the Nile would be a desert. ‘Anyone,’ says old Herodotus, the father of history, the truth of whose narrative every day becomes more apparent to everyone who sees Egypt, without having heard a word about it before, ‘must perceive, if he has only common powers of observation, that the Egypt to which the Greeks go in their ships is an acquired country, the gift of the Nile.’
The prosperity of the country depends upon its inundation: if it should prove excessive, and becomes what is termed a high Nile, towns and villages are sometimes swept away; if it should not rise above acertain height, it is called a low Nile—a large area will be left uncovered, and deficient crops will be the result. Fortunately, a low Nile is of rare occurrence. At one time, the only way of going up the Nile was by the dahabeah, a kind of yacht fitted up for the convenience of travellers, an expensive and dilatory mode of conveyance. Now Mr. John Cook has a line of fine steamers, and the Nile and the journey up and down is done as safely and expeditiously as the trip by theClacton Bellesteamers up and down the Thames. The voyage to Assouan and back is done in three weeks. Facilities are afforded the traveller for the extension of his voyage to the second cataract.
Of course, the ancient Egyptians worshipped the Nile. Hapi, the god of the Nile, is represented wearing a cluster of flowers on his head; he is coloured red and green, probably to represent the colours of the water of the Nile immediately before and just after the beginning of the inundation. An illustration of this worship occurs upon a wall in Thebes, where a priest, in his painted robe, is offering incense, while others play on a harp, a guitar, and two reed pipes. This is the song of one of the priests who lived 1,400 years before Christ:
‘Adoration to the Nile! Hail, to thee, O Nile! who manifesteth thyself over this land, and comest to give life to Egypt; mysterious is the coming forth from the darkness, watering the orchards created by Ra (the sun-god), to cause all the cattle to live. Thou givest the earth to drink, inexhaustible one. Thou createst the corn; thou bringest forth the barley, causing the temples to keep holiday. If thou ceasest thy toil and thy work, then all that exists is in anguish. . . . NoneA Tourist Streamer—Cook’s Nile Flotillaknow the place where he dwells; none discover his retreat by the aid of a written spell. All is changed by the inundation. It is a healing balm for all mankind. A festal song is raised for the harp with the accompaniments of the hand,’ etc.
‘Adoration to the Nile! Hail, to thee, O Nile! who manifesteth thyself over this land, and comest to give life to Egypt; mysterious is the coming forth from the darkness, watering the orchards created by Ra (the sun-god), to cause all the cattle to live. Thou givest the earth to drink, inexhaustible one. Thou createst the corn; thou bringest forth the barley, causing the temples to keep holiday. If thou ceasest thy toil and thy work, then all that exists is in anguish. . . . NoneA Tourist Streamer—Cook’s Nile Flotillaknow the place where he dwells; none discover his retreat by the aid of a written spell. All is changed by the inundation. It is a healing balm for all mankind. A festal song is raised for the harp with the accompaniments of the hand,’ etc.
In a valuable work on the Nile, written by Wallis Budge, Acting Assistant Secretary in the department of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities, British Museum, and published by Thomas Cook and Son, we have a beautiful illustration of the practical side of Egyptian theology, written by a scribe called Ani, who gives his son advice for behaviour in all the varied scenes of life. It is taken from one of the papyri in the Egyptian Museum at Ghizeh:
‘If a man cometh to seek thy counsel, let this drive thee to look for information.‘Enter not into the house of another; if a man asks thee into his house, it is an honour for thee.‘Spy not upon the acts of another from thy house.‘Be not the first to enter or leave an assembly, that thy name be not tarnished.‘The sanctuary of God abhorreth noisy declamations. Pray humbly, and with a loving heart whose words are spoken silently; God will then protect thee, and hear thy petitions, and accept thy offerings.‘Consider what hath been. Set before thee a correct rule of life as an example to follow. The messenger of death will come to thee, as to others, to carry thee away; yea, he standeth ready. Words will profit thee nothing, for he cometh—he is ready. Say not, “I am a child; wouldst thou in very truth bear me away?” Thou knowest not how thou wilt die. Death cometh to meet the babe at his mother’sbreast, even as he meeteth the old man who hath finished his course.‘Take heed with all diligence that thou woundest no man with thy words.‘Keep one faithful steward only and watch his deeds, and let thy hand protect the man who hath charge of thy house and property.‘The man who hath received much and giveth little is as one who committeth an injury.‘Be not ungrateful to God, for He giveth thee existence.‘Sit not while another standeth, if he be older than thou or if he is thy superior.‘Whosoever speaketh evil receiveth no good.’
‘If a man cometh to seek thy counsel, let this drive thee to look for information.
‘Enter not into the house of another; if a man asks thee into his house, it is an honour for thee.
‘Spy not upon the acts of another from thy house.
‘Be not the first to enter or leave an assembly, that thy name be not tarnished.
‘The sanctuary of God abhorreth noisy declamations. Pray humbly, and with a loving heart whose words are spoken silently; God will then protect thee, and hear thy petitions, and accept thy offerings.
‘Consider what hath been. Set before thee a correct rule of life as an example to follow. The messenger of death will come to thee, as to others, to carry thee away; yea, he standeth ready. Words will profit thee nothing, for he cometh—he is ready. Say not, “I am a child; wouldst thou in very truth bear me away?” Thou knowest not how thou wilt die. Death cometh to meet the babe at his mother’sbreast, even as he meeteth the old man who hath finished his course.
‘Take heed with all diligence that thou woundest no man with thy words.
‘Keep one faithful steward only and watch his deeds, and let thy hand protect the man who hath charge of thy house and property.
‘The man who hath received much and giveth little is as one who committeth an injury.
‘Be not ungrateful to God, for He giveth thee existence.
‘Sit not while another standeth, if he be older than thou or if he is thy superior.
‘Whosoever speaketh evil receiveth no good.’
THE RETURN TO MARSEILLES.
What memories crowd on me as I step into the tug which is to take me and the rest of us, in a confused mass, stowed away amidst the luggage, to the Custom House at Marseilles, a fine, handsome building, apparently in the very heart of the town, with shipping of many nations all around; for has not Marseilles in our time come to be the headquarters of all those who, fearing the Bay of Biscay, have a mind to make their way along the historic shores, and on the blue waters of the Mediterranean? As I leave the Custom House, a friend says to me: ‘I have soon got out. You see, there is nothing lost by civility. I took my luggage to one of the officers, took off my hat to him, and he came directly and let me go through.’ I replied to the effect that I was more successful, as I had been out a quarter of an hour before my friend, and I never took off my hat, but simply held out my Gladstone, which confirms me in my original idea, which, I mention for the benefit of travellers, that the real secret of getting one’s examination over is simply to have nothing for the Custom House officer to search.The New Harbour, Marseilles. From Cassell’s ‘Cities of the World’Not that I deprecate civility; the more I travel in France, the more I appreciate it. We English are a grand people—there are no better men on the face of the earth—but we might be a little more civil to one another.
And now I am in Marseilles, a clean, handsome, flourishing city, with an enormous population and an enormous trade; and naturally I think of the time—now more than a century ago—when the Marseillais set out for Paris. ‘The notablest of all the moving phenomena of that time,’ writes Carlyle, ‘is that of Barbaroux’s “six hundred Marseillais who know how to die.” A black-browed mass, full of grim fire,’ got together no one knows how—from theforçats, say some. As they march through Lyons, the people shut their shops in fear. ‘The Thought which works voiceless in this black-browed mass, an inspired Tyrtæus, Colonel Rouget de Lille, has translated into grim melody and rhythm; into his Hymn or March of the Marseillaise: luckiest musical-competition ever promulgated. The sound of which will make the blood tingle in men’s veins; and whole Armies and Assemblages will sing it, with eyes weeping and burning, with hearts defiant of Death, Despot, and Devil.’
Marseilles is a far nobler city than it appears to the tourist as he rushes from the train to catch the steamer waiting to bear him far away. High above the city, on a precipitous rock, from which you have a grand view of the place, and the harbour, and the far-off Mediterranean, stands the old Cathedral of Marseilles—Notre Dame de la Garde—a noble RomanesqueMarseillesbuilding, with a gilt figure of the Virgin at the top, her arms extended as if to protect the city. You reach it either by a winding road or a hydraulic lift, for the use of which you pay a trifle. It was there the ancient inhabitants kept watch over sea and land. In time a chapel was erected on its site, which became a place of pilgrimage for mariners and fishermen. The present magnificent building was erected in 1864. If only for the view, the visitor is well repaid for his trouble. Hardly can you enjoy a more magnificent prospect, embracing the fair valley of the Rhone, the white houses of Marseilles stretching up the plain, the gray mountains of Spain in the far distance, the dazzling blue of the Gulf of Lyons, the dark towers of the fort, with the rocky, picturesque islands, with the Château d’If, whence, according to Dumas, Monte Cristo made his marvellous escape, beyond. In the city itself, on a hill, whence you have also a fine view, is a grand new cathedral of imposing form and structure. It was Sunday when I visited it; but there were not many people in it, though more in the heart of the city, where I tried to enter a church, it was so crowded that there really was no standing-room. But even in Marseilles you must be cautious when the east wind blows. It was there Dr. Punshon, the greatest Wesleyan orator of our time, caught the cold which laid the foundation of the illness that ultimately carried him off.
It has a very ancient history, this noble city of Marseilles. It owes its origin to a tribe of Ionian Greeks, who, about 600b.c., there founded a town that ultimately became the head of a Roman province. In the contest between Pompey and Cæsar, the townwished to remain neutral, but Cæsar had need of gold, vessels, and harbours, and scrupled not for a moment to lay siege to it, which was maintained against him during the whole of his long and severe warfare with Afranius and Petreius in Spain, and was not taken till after the capture or dispersion of their legions. The treatment of the town was so merciless, that from thenceforward, by Strabo’s account, it only preserved vestiges of its former prosperity and wealth. However, Marseilles in time recovered from the blow, and chiefly by means of the book trade. It seems to have become a miniature Athens. France was especially distinguished by its aptitude and zeal for Roman learning. At Marseilles there was an institution for Greek education and literature, which was visited, even in preference to Athens, by men of the highest rank. A large institution of the same kind existed at Autun, and Tacitus calls that city the principal seat of Latin culture. With respect to the book trade of Lyons, we have the testimony of the younger Pliny, when he states that he learned, with some surprise, from a friend that his own discourses and writings were publicly sold there.
In the time of the Crusades Marseilles became a busy place. It is now wholly given up to trade, and flourishes accordingly. Since 1850 it has become the head packet-station on the Mediterranean, and more and more frequented by English passengers, who can stay at gorgeous hotels, or more economical ones, according to the state of their finances. If they only stop the day, they cannot do better than dine at the buffet attached to the railway-station, unless they wish to partake of the famousbouillabaisseof which Thackeray sung, andto which my friend—my lamented friend—George Augustus Sala, devoted many a learned paragraph in his ‘Table Talk’ in theIllustrated London Newsand elsewhere. Woe is me! I quite forgot all about it till just as I had to take the train to carry me away. I shall never cease to regret that forgetfulness on my part. It may be that I may live to repair it!
There was a time when this delicious delicacy could be had in Paris. Some of us can still remember Thackeray’s beautiful ballad:
‘A street there is in Paris famous,For which no rhyme our language yields;Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is,The New Street of the Little Fields.‘And here’s our wish, not rich and splendid,But still in comfortable ease,The which in youth I oft attendedTo eat a bowl ofbouillabaise.’
‘A street there is in Paris famous,For which no rhyme our language yields;Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is,The New Street of the Little Fields.
‘And here’s our wish, not rich and splendid,But still in comfortable ease,The which in youth I oft attendedTo eat a bowl ofbouillabaise.’
But Marseilles lives on other things than itsbouillabaisse—a rich soup or stew of all sorts of fish—not to be flippantly eaten, not to be lightly forgotten. Some 2,000 vessels fill its capacious harbour. In its lofty bonded warehouses are stored away the merchandise of many climes, and its soap-works and sugar-refineries are on an extensive scale. In short, it is the Liverpool of France; but, alas for the pride of the Mersey, how much cleaner, brighter, grander! how much purer the smokeless atmosphere! how much lovelier the outlook over sea and land! It was there that in 1797 that great French statesman, M. Adolphe Thiers, was born. That acute judge of men and books, Abraham Hayward, who was at Paris before Thiers had risen, as he did at a later time, describes him, in1844, as ‘a little, insignificant man, till he gets animated, but wonderfully clever.’
The one drawback to Marseilles, the only cloud in its blue sky, is the drink; and I am glad to find that there is a good man there, Pastor Lenoir, who has taken up temperance work, and has carried it on very successfully. Last year, for a novelty, in Marseilles he got up a temperance fête, which was a great success. During the last twenty years drinking has greatly increased, and the drink-shops as well. In 1876 there were in Marseilles 2,460 drink-shops; now there are 4,205—far too many, when we remember that the town has only 600 bakers’ shops and only 500 schools. As a consequence, Dr. Rey shows that insanity has greatly increased, and that in the hospital of St. Pierre the proportion of insane patients whose disease can be traced to alcohol has increased from 15 per cent. to 31 per cent. of the patients admitted. ‘The chief factor,’ he writes, ‘of these mental diseases is alcohol, and especially when to its intoxicating effects is added that of absinthe, and other vegetable substances which produce epilepsy and other similar evils.’ In this respect, Marseilles teaches us a lesson which it is well to remember at home.
In another way Marseilles is a lesson in favour of temperance work. In the district of Villette the drinking classes chiefly dwell. It is a narrow, dirty court, opening on a series of alleys; in the centre runs an open gutter—the only drainage of the place—while on either side are small one-storied houses, calledcabanons, let for about eight shillings a month. They are let to the poorest of the poor, and abound with dirt and large families and drunkenness; the three inFrance, as in England, generally go hand in hand. The air is stifling, the odours insupportable; and when the sun pours down in the middle of summer, and the hot sirocco-like wind blows, the condition of matters is unbearable. As I write I see the people of Marseilles, in fear of the plague, will not permit travellers from the East, under any pretence whatever, to land there. They had much better look at home, and reform their own sanitary arrangements in such districts as Villette. It is there the good Protestant pastor, connected, I believe, with the McAll Mission in Paris, labours unweariedly with a band of fellow labourers as devoted as himself. I give the story of one of his rescued men, as an illustration of labour-life in the fair city of Marseilles:
‘Thibaut is a strong, muscular man, who worked as a docker, and could carry 140 kilos of wool on his shoulders from six o’clock to twelve o’clock without taking rest. He was an inveterate drunkard, and had on one occasion swallowedthirty-five glasses of absinthe,raw,in a day. For thirty years he had never set foot in a church, and his wife had died from the effects of his ill-treatment. Once, in a fit of drunkenness, he threw all that was left of furniture in their miserable home into the street, including the stove, which was alight, and on which their bit of dinner was cooking. He dragged his wife when ill from her bed by her hair, and threw her into the street. The day of her death he was found drunk in a public-house, and he followed the remains to the grave reeling. He lived in the famous “Grand Salon,” in a miserable hut of planks, the most filthy hovel imaginable. Thibaut was not over-scrupulous as to how he got the drink, withoutwhich he could not exist. There are many ways in which a docker can steal from the cargoes he discharges without being found out. For instance, there is a way of letting fall a case of wine or cognac, so as to break one bottle, the contents of which then can be quickly absorbed. Like most French workmen, he wore trousers very baggy at the top, and tied round the ankles. Such trousers can be made to hold about four pounds of tea or coffee, or such like, and many a time Thibaut has walked past the searchers at the dock-gates with his stock of groceries, and has never been detected.’
‘Thibaut is a strong, muscular man, who worked as a docker, and could carry 140 kilos of wool on his shoulders from six o’clock to twelve o’clock without taking rest. He was an inveterate drunkard, and had on one occasion swallowedthirty-five glasses of absinthe,raw,in a day. For thirty years he had never set foot in a church, and his wife had died from the effects of his ill-treatment. Once, in a fit of drunkenness, he threw all that was left of furniture in their miserable home into the street, including the stove, which was alight, and on which their bit of dinner was cooking. He dragged his wife when ill from her bed by her hair, and threw her into the street. The day of her death he was found drunk in a public-house, and he followed the remains to the grave reeling. He lived in the famous “Grand Salon,” in a miserable hut of planks, the most filthy hovel imaginable. Thibaut was not over-scrupulous as to how he got the drink, withoutwhich he could not exist. There are many ways in which a docker can steal from the cargoes he discharges without being found out. For instance, there is a way of letting fall a case of wine or cognac, so as to break one bottle, the contents of which then can be quickly absorbed. Like most French workmen, he wore trousers very baggy at the top, and tied round the ankles. Such trousers can be made to hold about four pounds of tea or coffee, or such like, and many a time Thibaut has walked past the searchers at the dock-gates with his stock of groceries, and has never been detected.’
He was nearly falling a victim to his drunken habits more than once. They are now rejoicing over him at Marseilles, for he that was dead is now alive again. The lost one is found.
If the traveller has time to spare, let him by all means pay Arles a visit, where there is a fine Roman amphitheatre, or rather the remains of one. Very early Arles became distinguished in Church history—I was going to say Christian history; but, alas, at that time the bitter disputes and dissensions in the Church bore little traces of the teachings or the example of Christ. Ina.d.314, when, as Gibbon writes, Constantine was the protector, rather than the proselyte of Christianity, he referred the African controversy to the Council of Arles, in which the Bishops of York, of Treves, of Milan, and of Carthage, met as friends and brethren to debate, in their native tongue, on the common interests of the Latin or Western Church. One ancient writer says there were 600 bishops there, but this is probably an exaggerated account of their number. The subject, of course, was the nature ofthe Trinity, the discussions on which, inflamed with passion, had filled the Churches with fury, and sedition, and schism—a fury which excites the wonder of the modern less heated Christian Church.
It was at Arles, at a later period, Constantine repaired to celebrate in its palace, with intemperate luxury, a vain and ostentatious triumph—his military success against the Goths. It was at Arles, the seat at that time of government and commerce,a.d.418, that the Emperor Honorius, in a solemn address, filled with the strongest assurances of that paternal affection which, as Gibbon writes, sovereigns so often express but rarely feel, convened an annual assembly consisting of the Pretorian Prefect of the Gauls; of seven provincial governors, one consular and six presidents; of the magistrates, and perhaps the bishops, of sixty cities; and of an indefinite number of leading landed proprietors. They were empowered to interpret the laws of their sovereign, to expose the wishes and grievances of their constituents, to moderate the excessive or unequal weight of taxes, and to deliberate on every subject of local and national importance that would tend to the restoration of peace and prosperity to the seven provinces. It was a step in the right direction. It was a step that might have tended, if universally followed, at any rate, to retard the decay and decline of the Roman Empire. But the Emperor found that the people were not ready to accept the proffered boon. A fine of three, or even five, ounces of gold was imposed on the absent representatives. Honorius was in advance of his age—in politics as great a blunder as being behind it. It was not till centuries of oppression and misgovernment that the rights of man werepractically won for France, and that Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity became the watchwords of the people.
Arles was very early peopled by a colony from Central Italy, and very remarkable is the physique of its inhabitants. The late Lord Malmesbury, Lord Derby’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, writes: ‘The women are remarkably handsome, but entirely of the Etruscan type, with magnificent dark hair and eyes, good teeth, and fair complexions. They have beautiful round throats, set on fine shoulders and busts, but their legs are much too short for their general build.’ I am, of course, not a judge of such matters, and I prefer to copy from Lord Malmesbury, who, as a Foreign Minister and a frequent guest both at the Courts of England and France, and a high-born aristocrat as well, had opportunities for the pleasing study of woman far superior to any possessed by an ordinary scribe. He had a good opportunity of seeing the population, as it was a fête day when he favoured the city with his presence. He continues: ‘There were games in the square, such as climbing a greased pole for a leg of mutton placed at the top, which no one succeeded in winning. The women were all in costume, with black veils, worn like the mantilla. I noticed that the men were remarkably plain, sallow, under-sized and narrow-chested—in every way a remarkable contrast to the women.’ As indeed they are, or ought to be, all the world over.
In the neighbourhood is a hermit’s cell, very curiously contrived in the rock, where there was a secret way of escaping to the deeper recesses and hiding in case of danger. There was the stone bed of the hermit who is said to have been the first to introduce Christianityinto the province. His name is held in high esteem and a church is dedicated to his memory. It was upon the plains adjoining that Charles Martel gained his final victory over the Saracens. The Roman amphitheatre in Arles is in a fine state of preservation, with towers added in the Middle Ages.
Soldiers have a mission hall to themselves in Marseilles, which is full of them, and to the hall many come for peace and light. The aggregate attendance is set down at nearly 6,000. The hall offers them a warm, comfortable room, well lighted, with books, games, newspapers, and other conveniences. A lady gives them elementary lessons in French, arithmetic, reading, and writing. When the soldiers sailed to Madagascar they took with them, in spite of the priests, 3,000 copies of the New Testament. The labours of the agents of the McAll Mission are numerous and persevering. Last year they held about 500 meetings for adults. They have five schools for children, besides two sewing schools for girls. There are three mothers’ meetings, with a fair attendance, and a mission choir does good work.
Of more recent formation, and perhaps less well known, is the Society of Christian Endeavour. It has given proof of its existence in various ways. It was the Endeavourers who organized four series of lectures, of three each, which were given in the halls of the Grand Chemin de Toulon and the Boulevard de Strasbourg. Friends were much encouraged to see each time a large and attentive audience; the lectures had been announced by means of handbills distributed in profusion throughout the district. The society takes charge also of the visitation of the sick, and thedistribution of tracts in the suburbs, at the gates of the factories and workshops, etc. Some of the sisters have taken to heart the work among fallen women, and in one case, at least, they have been able to snatch one of these poor creatures from her life of sin, and place her in a neighbouring refuge. And so good work gets done, quietly and unobtrusively.
There were put in circulation last year through the Librairie Evangélique 12,000 almanacks, 4,500 Bibles and Testaments, 1,000 tracts, 1,000 books of various kinds, and 600 copies of theRelévement. Open Bibles and Testaments are constantly displayed also in the large shop-window, where the passers-by can stop and read at their leisure—a thing which a goodly number of them do not fail to do. Nor are the Italians, of whom there are many in the town, overlooked. But I pass on
‘To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,I turn, and France displays her bright domain;Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,Pleased with thyself whom all the world can please.’
‘To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,I turn, and France displays her bright domain;Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease,Pleased with thyself whom all the world can please.’
And pleasant recollections come to us of Oliver Goldsmith, who, as he tells us, oft led
‘The sportive choirWith tuneless pipe beside the murmuring Loire.’
‘The sportive choirWith tuneless pipe beside the murmuring Loire.’
The traveller who does as the writer did—leaves the train at Marseilles, and travels home slowly, will find as much pleasure in that little trip as in any part of his pilgrimage to the East.