If
You Knew No Better, You Were Summarily Thrust Into The Hasil Or
Condemned Cell, To Pass The Night With Pickpockets Or Ruffians,
Pell-Mell.
But if an adept in such matters, you insisted upon being
conducted before the "Pasha of the Night," and, the clerk fearing to
refuse, you were hurried to the great man's office, hoping for justice,
and dealing out ideal vengeance to your captors,-the patrol.
Here you
found the dignitary sitting with pen, ink, and paper before him, and
pipe and coffee-cup in hand, upon a wide Diwan of dingy chintz, in a
large dimly-lit room, with two guards by his side, and a semi-circle of
recent seizures vociferating before him. When your turn came, you were
carefully collared, and led up to the presence, as if even at that
awful moment you were mutinously and murderously disposed. The Pasha,
looking at you with a vicious sneer, turned up his nose, ejaculated
"'Ajami," and prescribed the bastinado. You observed that the mere fact
of being a Persian did not give mankind a right to capture, imprison,
and punish you; you declared moreover that you were no Persian, but an
Indian under British protection. The Pasha, a man accustomed to
obedience, then stared at you, to frighten you, and you, we will
suppose, stared at him, till, with an oath, he turned to the patrol,
and asked them your offence. They all simultaneously swore-by
Allah!-that you had been found without a lantern, dead-drunk, beating
respectable people,
[p.121]breaking into houses, invading and robbing harims. You openly
told the Pasha that they were eating abominations; upon which he
directed one of his guards to smell your breath,-the charge of
drunkenness being tangible. The fellow, a comrade of your capturers,
advanced his nose to your lips; as might be expected, cried "Kikh,"
contorted his countenance, and answered, by the beard of
"Effendina[FN#9]" that he perceived a pestilent odour of distilled
waters. This announcement probably elicited a grim grin from the "Pasha
of the Night," who loves Curaçoa, and who is not indifferent to the
charms of Cognac. Then by his favour, for you improved the occasion,
you were allowed to spend the hours of darkness on a wooden bench, in
the adjacent long gallery, together with certain little parasites, for
which polite language has no name.[FN#10] In the morning the janissary
of your Consulate was sent for: he came, and claimed you; you were led
off criminally; again you gave your name and address, and if your
offence was merely sending on your lantern, you were dismissed with
advice to be more careful in future. And assuredly your first step was
towards the Hammam.
But if, on the other hand, you had declared yourself a European, you
would either have been dismissed at once, or sent to your Consul, who
is here judge, jury, and jailor. Egyptian authority has of late years
lost half its prestige. When Mr. Lane first settled at Cairo, all
Europeans accused of aggression against Moslems were, he tells us,
surrendered to the Turkish magistrates. Now, the native powers have no
jurisdiction over strangers,
[p.122]nor can the police enter their houses. If the West would raise
the character of its Eastern co-religionists, it will be forced to push
the system a point further, and to allow all bona-fide Christian
subjects to register their names at the different Consulates whose
protection they might prefer. This is what Russia has so "unwarrantably
and outrageously" attempted. We confine ourselves to a lesser
injustice, which deprives Eastern states of their right as independent
Powers to arrest, and to judge foreigners, who for interest or
convenience settle in their dominions. But we still shudder at the
right of arrogating any such claim over the born lieges of Oriental
Powers. What, however, would be the result were Great Britain to
authorise her sons resident at Paris, or Florence, to refuse attendance
at a French or an Italian court of justice, and to demand that the
police should never force the doors of an English subject? I commend
this consideration to all those who "stickle for abstract rights" when
the interest and progress of others are concerned, and who become
somewhat latitudinarian and concrete in cases where their own welfare
and aggrandisement are at stake.
Besides patients, I made some pleasant acquaintances at Cairo. Antun
Zananire, a young Syrian of considerable attainments as a linguist,
paid me the compliment of permitting me to see the fair face of his
"Harim." Mr. Hatchadur Nury, an Armenian gentleman, well known in
Bombay, amongst other acts of kindness, introduced me to one of his
compatriots, Khwajah Yusuf, whose advice was most useful to me. The
Khwajah had wandered far and wide, picking up everywhere some scrap of
strange knowledge, and his history was a romance. Expelled from Cairo
for a youthful peccadillo, he started upon his travels, qualified
himself for sanctity at Meccah and Al-Madinah, became a religious
beggar at Baghdad, studied French at Paris, and finally settled
[p.123]down as a professor of languages,[FN#11] under an amnesty, at
Cairo. In his house I saw an Armenian marriage. The occasion was
memorable: after the gloom and sameness of Moslem society, nothing
could be more gladdening than the unveiled face of a pretty woman. Some
of the guests were undeniably charming brunettes, with the blackest
possible locks, and the brightest conceivable eyes. Only one pretty
girl wore the national costume;[FN#12] yet they all smoked chibuks and
sat upon the Diwans, and, as they entered the room, they kissed with a
sweet simplicity the hands of the priest, and of the other old
gentlemen present.
Among the number of my acquaintances was a Meccan boy, Mohammed
al-Basyuni, from whom I bought the pilgrim-garb called "Al-Ihram" and
the Kafan or shroud, with which the Moslem usually starts upon such a
journey as mine.
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