THE HAMSEEN, THE LAMP-SHOP, AND THE ACCESSION OF SAID PASHA
FROM the end of March, when the wind shifts to the south, we get a taste of summer’s heat. The talk in the hotels is of home-returning steamers, and Cook’s offices are besieged with visitors anxious to secure early bookings. The Hamseen, as this unpleasant wind is called, causes a rapid rise in the temperature, and while it lasts the whole aspect of northern Egypt changes. The sky partakes of the colour of the desert, and has something of the look of a slight London fog; the sun also reminds us of the pale orange sphere visible when Londoners remark on its being a fine day. Apart from these appearances the sensations felt are very different. Neither moisture nor smoke give that yellowish look here; it is the sand which the wind collects as it blows across the desert in its northern course. As the wind increases, so the temperature rises, and the extreme dryness of the air causes those unpleasant sensations felt with the first symptoms of fever.
Cairo becomes unpaintable, the sun hardly casts a shadow through the thickening clouds of dust, and such shadow as it is has none of that blue reflected light which gives the true shadow quality. Did not experience teach me that it is only a passing phase, my inclination would be to pack up and leave by the first available steamer and join the migration to the north. It is useless to hunt about the streets for subjects; for even if one were found sufficiently attractive, the dust would render the work an impossibility. Some subject of a still-life nature in the shelter of the bazaars or an interior must be found, unless one makes up one’s mind to stay indoors until the wind sets in a more favourable quarter.
The word hamseen means fifty, and is given to this wind because of the fifty days during which spells of it may be expected. If street rows are more frequent, if irritability or headaches are complained of, the Cairene shrugs his shoulders and says ‘Hamseen.’ It was a day of that kind that took me once more to the Khan Khalil. I had often been attracted by a lamp-shop there, but had put off painting it on account of the elaborate detail, and doubts whether the results would be proportionate to the work involved. A corner well sheltered from the wind and an obliging shopman induced me to set up my easel. Should the wind change, I could always leave it and return when the next hamseen would make work impossible elsewhere.
Every type of Egyptian lamp hung round the entrance, and lamps and lampstands lined the walls of the passage leading into the store beyond. There, in the deeper shades, the sparkle of polished metal suggested innumerable lamps of which the near ones were samples. Brass bowls and trays, teapots and candlesticks, filled up the spaces where lamps could not be138 hung. With the buff-coloured stone of the building, this metal-work made a harmonious whole. To pull this together so as not to lose the breadth of effect would be no easy task. During the third day in this corner of the bazaar a ray of sunlight heralded a return of beautiful weather; a drop in the temperature and the feel of one’s skin were enough to tell one that the wind blew no more from the south, and that once more the cool breezes from the sea ran counter to the flow of the Nile. The little sunlight which found its way between the awnings and matting which roof in this bazaar was enough to alter the whole effect of my subject. My drawing looked leathery and sodden compared to the rich glow which lit up the shop, and proved that even the nearest bit of still-life is better when the presence of the sun is felt. I sponged out more lamps in two minutes than I had put in in two days, and this corner knew me no more on hamseen days. It was, after all, only during beautiful days that I could complete the drawing which illustrates these pages.
Nassán is the proprietor of the shop, and Nassán seemed much exercised in his mind why I should have so ruthlessly made away with so many lamps, though they were only on paper. What did a ray of sunlight matter as long as the name of Nassán was conspicuous on the signboard which hung over the entrance? As new lamps replaced the old, Nassán’s interest in my drawing reawakened, and overtures were even made for its acquisition. I told him I wished to take it to England, as I wanted illustrations for a book I was about139 to write, and he, not wishing to lose a gratis advertisement, got me to promise to say that he was prepared to supply any one with as many lamps as they could possibly wish. He had recently furnished the Heliopolis hotel with three hundred metal ones, and his stock was not nearly exhausted.
I looked up Mustapha, the silk-merchant with whom I had spent an interesting evening during the Hasaneyn festival. While we sipped our coffee on the mastaba of his shop, we reverted to the tragic story of the Irishman O’Donald and his first meeting with the princess Zohra. Her history has been continued during this narrative, and my readers may remember that we last saw her settled down in Constantinople under the protection of the Sultan of Turkey. How her hatred of Abbas (the then ruling Viceroy) outlived her thwarted love for O’Donald will now be related. From the account given by the German engineer, Max Eyth, I was able to tell the silk-merchant more of what happened than he knew; for Eyth had the details from Halim Pasha, Zohra’s own brother, who was an important actor in the drama. But nothing to incriminate his sister fell from Halim’s lips; the part she played was related by the servant Ramés, from whom Eyth obtained most of her history. Why no English edition of Max Eyth’s Hinter Pflug und Schraubstock should exist is a mystery to the present writer.
It will be remembered that when the great Mohammed Ali, towards the end of his reign, fell into a state of imbecility, the reins of government were seized by his famous general and adopted son Ibrahim, and that140 the latter died within a year after becoming the ruler of Egypt. Mohammed’s death occurred soon after, and the viceregal throne passed to his grandson, Abbas I., who reigned from 1849 to 1854. During these five years the Europeanisation of Egypt ceased. Abbas would have none of the Frankish innovations which his grandfather encouraged; European schools, western legal procedure and military instruction were banished, and the ulemas, dervishes, and fakirs came by their own once more. His country nevertheless prospered during his reign.
As in so many instances in the history of Egypt, this ruler was a terror to his numerous near relatives who might be able to establish a claim to the succession. Of the eighty-five children of Mohammed Ali but few were living, and this few were well alive to the danger of their august relationship. Even the princess Zohra, after she had fled to Constantinople, must be careful of what she ate or drank, and of the loyalty of those who served her. The Taster became once more an important personage in the various palaces, and not the least in that of Abbas himself. His two uncles, Said and Halim, were both much the same age as their nephew—a thing of constant occurrence in the hareem life in the East. They lived on tenterhooks, as being possible rivals to the succession of Abbas’s only son, a delicate little boy called El Hami. Said Pasha lived at Alexandria when he was not enjoying himself in Paris. He was the minister of the Egyptian navy—not an arduous post, for most of the ships had been destroyed during the wars of his father and those of Ibrahim.141 Halim Pasha lived in retirement in his mother’s palace at Shubra.
Abbas and his large hareem divided their time at the palace at Abbasiyeh, at another which he built in the desert near Suez, and at a third on the banks of the Nile at Benha. The chief ulema of the Azhar who was tutor to El Hami, and Elfy Bey, the Governor of Cairo and Minister of War, became the leading men in the state. Rumours soon spread through the bazaars that a holy war might any day be proclaimed, and, if so, a general massacre of the Christians would follow. Later on it was reported that the day of the horse races at Alexandria was the day decided on for the rising. Said and Halim, who were both friendly to the Europeans, trembled at the consequences which might follow; for in a general rising opportunities are easily found to dispose of relations who may be thought in the way. The Minister of the Navy found an excuse for going to Marseilles about the purchase of a frigate, and he made preparations to sail the day before the races.
It was during the first days of the hamseen that these sinister rumours spread in the bazaars, and Abbas decided to migrate with his court to the palace at Benha, which is about a third of the way on the road from Cairo to Alexandria. It was also decided to send the young prince El Hami to Syria for the good of his health. From his stables at Benha the Viceroy would send his favourite horse, el Dogaan, to compete in the Alexandrian races.
The narrator goes on to say that ‘man may propose, but God disposes.’ Abbas and his court duly arrived at the palace at Benha; the hamseen increased in strength,142 and with it the temper of Abbas, which at no time was a good one. It was an easy task for the ulemas and dervishes, who formed a part of his suite, to dispel any misgivings which the Pasha may have had as to the contemplated massacre. The court astrologer, Soliman el Habeshi, had fixed the auspicious hour on which to begin. The hamseen favoured their designs, for we are told that the wind increased in violence, and that el Habeshi had to make his calculations when no stars were visible, owing to the clouds of dust which hid them.
Rames, the servant of Halim Pasha, now relates to Eyth what followed. ‘I had long been supplanted in my post of pipe-filler to Abbas, who at that time was my master, by two handsome young mamelukes called Hassan and Husseyn. They were twins, the same as were the heroes after whom they were named. They had been sent from Constantinople as a present from the Sultan to the ruler of Egypt. Abbas had every confidence in them and loaded them with marks of his favour, while I was relegated to the stables. I did not mind that, for I always loved horses, and el Dogaan was as the apple of my eye. As no one could ride this horse as I could, it was decided that I should do jockey in the coming races. I was in the seventh heaven, and was attending to my charge one night, when I was startled by the appearance in the stables of the astrologer. His wild looks and gestures were alarming. “Be silent, Rames!” he said, “the all-knowing God ordains what is right, but our Lord the Basha is in his bath! He bathes in his own blood!”
‘The horror of this awful news gave way to a sense143 of relief that I was at last freed from a lifelong tyranny. I ran to the palace and crept silently up the stairs and through the passages which led to the bathroom. A lamp hung outside the curtain at the entrance. I feared to pull this aside—I listened, and hearing no sound my curiosity overcame my fear. I pulled back the curtain, and a red ray from the hanging lamp fell on to the marble bath. A naked arm hung over the further edge and a head lay against the end wall. As if to make him look ridiculous, his assassins had slit the mouth till it nearly reached the ears, and a horrible grimace added to the awfulness of the scene. A gash in the throat showed how the Basha had met his death, and a dark red stream still trickled from this to colour the water in which the body lay.
‘I still see, when I close my eyes, that bloodless face with its diabolical smile, lit by the red rays of the hanging lamp; though the Basha was dead, the evil spirit which possessed him still clung to its tenement. The costly marble bath, the gilded stalactites which hung from the dome-shaped roof, and all the luxury with which this room was fitted only added to the horror of the spectacle.
‘I heard voices not far off, and knew the danger I ran if I were caught here. I slipped off as fast and as silently as I could and returned to my stables, where I saddled el Dogaan and led him along the footpath to the bank of the river. Huddled in a heap, there sat the astrologer, who trembled as the aspen leaf. I asked him what he was doing there, and, putting his fingers to his lips, he whispered, “Do you not know, O Rames,144 that they seek to kill me? The court physician is already under lock and key, and all who know of this murder must die—you also—for the secret must on no account leak out until El Hami can be placed on the throne.” “They must catch me first,” I called out, and jumping into the saddle I stuck my spurs into el Dogaan and rode towards Shubra as fast as I could.
‘Halim Basha had oft befriended me, and he would not forsake me now in my dire necessity. El Dogaan raced along the Cairo road as fast as if he took part in the Alexandrian meeting. In two hours he covered the ground between Benha and the Shubra palace, where we arrived before daybreak. Allah el Azeem! how he ran. I thought not only of my safety, but of the far-reaching effects my news might have.’
The prince Halim here continues the narrative: ‘I was awakened when the first light of the rising sun was visible over the edge of the desert beyond the Abbasiyeh palace. They told me that a man had brought a message which had to be delivered at once. I descended to the courtyard and found Rames; but so covered with dust was he that I could hardly recognise him. After the greeting he whispered in my ear: “God is just! Your nephew lies dead in his bath at Benha.” You may imagine the shock this news gave me. But was this mameluke to be trusted? Might it not be a ruse of Abbas to trap me with a word or gesture, which would have been my undoing? “God’s will be done,” I said, and ordered Rames to return at once to Benha and let no one know that I had knowledge of the crime.
145 ‘No time was to be lost in apprising my brother Said, as he was to have sailed that very day from Alexandria, and, unless Rames had lied, our country was now without a ruler. The lad El Hami was at Damietta on his way to Syria, and if that child were made Viceroy, Egypt and all of us would be at the tender mercies of Elfy Bey and the Ulema. The English had lately set up a telegraph office in Cairo; but how could I word this message so as to be only understood by my brother? The following at last suggested itself, and Said would not have been a son of his father had he misunderstood the meaning: “The house thou seekest in Cairo is empty. The door stands open. Walk in.” Said understood.
‘He told me later that my message was only just in time, for he was about to start for the steamer. He decided promptly to leave for Cairo instead, and he and his bodyguard were on the road before the steamer had disappeared beyond the horizon. They reached Damanhur that evening, and at an early hour next morning, when he arrived at Benha, he was informed that Abbas and his court had just left to return to Cairo. He questioned some of the notabilities of the town, only to hear with what pomp the Viceroy had set out on his journey. What was my brother to make of all this? Was this telegram a trap? or had he perhaps misunderstood its meaning? The palace was deserted, so he and his followers rested there till the following day, and then continued their journey to Cairo.
‘I spent an anxious morning at Shubra,’ continued Halim Pasha, ‘but imagine my astonishment when a146 runner in my employ arrived from Kalioub to inform me that Abbas had passed through that village, and would in all probability arrive at Shubra towards five o’clock that very afternoon. “That damned mameluke must have lied,” said I to myself, and I had to make preparations, as the custom is, to welcome the Viceroy, or (should he not wish to break his journey) to greet him at the door of my palace. I had hardly put on my court dress when two messengers were announced, and they informed me that they had been sent ahead by His Highness, my nephew, to beg me not to stay his journey, as he was in great haste to reach his palace at Abbasiyeh that evening. In one of these messengers I recognised Rames, who hung back while the other spoke. He drooped his head and closed his eyes—was this a sign? And what could be the interpretation?
‘Towards midnight of the following day Said and his guard arrived. We had to hide the latter as well as we could in the stables and outhouses, for it was a dangerous business. Some trusty servants whom I had sent into Cairo reported on the crowds of people who had gathered to witness the Viceroy’s progress through the city, and declared that His Highness bowed in acknowledgment of the ovations he received. Our anxiety increased with each fresh report. My mother, however, did not share our misgivings. “Rames has not lied,” she said; “I watched him carefully, and his actions told me clearly that Abbas was dead.”
‘We spent the following day here awaiting some report which might help to clear up the mystery. Towards evening some servants of mine brought in147 the astrologer, Soliman, whom they had picked up more dead than alive on the road from Benha. I told them to feed the old blackguard, and when he had somewhat recovered I questioned him. He wished to tell me what the stars had revealed, but I soon was satisfied in my mind that Rames had not lied. There was still time to take action before the young prince El Hami could have reached Cairo from Damietta, and we could not anyhow have kept Said and his thirty retainers here without exciting suspicion. I sent word at once to the Commandant of the Citadel to open the gate at midnight and admit the ruler of Egypt.
‘That very night my brother Said rode into the old fortress as Viceroy of this country. The artillery had orders to defend the place should the necessity arise. Before daybreak we learnt that El Hami had arrived from Damietta, and presently the Ulema rode up and demanded the gates to be opened to admit the Viceroy of Egypt. Said admitted the learned scribe into the audience-chamber and complimented him on his zeal in coming so early to greet his new master. The Ulema stared as one bereft of his senses. Said, my brother, was a good-hearted man, and did not seize on this opportunity to destroy the enemy whom fortune had delivered into his hands. He was fond of a little joke, and felt that now he could afford to indulge in one: a barber was summoned to cut off the Ulema’s beard, and the poor man was sent off with a message to Elfy Bey to inform the latter that his game was up, and that he would be received by his new master as soon as he wished to present himself.
148 ‘Elfy, though a devout Moslem, was not the man to bow to the decrees of fate—a self-inflicted pistol-shot ended the career of the Governor of Cairo and Egypt’s Minister of War. The Ulema did not long survive the loss of his beard, and the young prince El Hami was allowed to start once more for Syria for the good of his health.’
The reader may now be curious to learn how Abbas’s progress from Benha to Cairo was accomplished, for when we left that prince in his blood-stained bath his earthly journey was doubtless over.
Rames now continues the narrative:—‘By Allah, the compassionate, the merciful, how I rode back to Benha! What dangers I incurred in returning to that palace no one knew better than myself; but to serve my present master, Halim Basha, was my chief thought. It was barely ten o’clock, as you Franks reckon the time, when I and el Dogaan arrived. None of the horses in the stables had been attended to, and two of them were missing. I had hardly been ten minutes there when I was called and had to repair to the anteroom of the bath. The mamelukes who personally attended our late Basha had also been summoned there; but I noticed that of the twelve two were missing, namely Hassan and Husseyn. Their non-appearance was evidently accounted for and no one spoke of them. Presently Elfy Bey and the Ulema entered. They ordered us to repeat the profession of our faith, and each one had to take an oath that what we should now see should not be revealed to any living creature. We all solemnly swore that we would keep the secret, and then149 Elfy Bey warned us that if a word escaped our lips, our tongues should be torn out and our flayed bodies would hang from the walls of Sultan Hassan’s mosque. He then drew back the curtain, and by the light of day I again witnessed the terrible sight of the previous night.
‘Six mamelukes were ordered to lift the body out of the bath and to dress the mortal remains in the garments used on state occasions. I and three others had to return to the stables to prepare the state coach and to harness six white horses. When this was brought round to the door of the hareem, as ordered, the body of Abbas was placed in a sitting posture on the back seat of the carriage, and the Ulema sat beside it to hold it in position. Elfy Bey and the favourite eunuch sat with their backs to the horses. A veil was wound round the corpse’s turban, and an embroidered litám concealed the lower part of the face, as the fashion often is with the Bedouin, as a protection from the dust. Two sat on the box and two stood, as is the style of the Franks, on the backboard of the coach. Six cavaliers, of whom I was one, served as an escort.
‘Such is the manner in which we started on that progress to the capital! The fellaheen greeted us as we passed through the villages. I heard some remark that our lord looked ill, and they committed him to the protection of Allah. As I rode el Dogaan, which is famous for his speed, I was fortunately sent ahead with the second messenger to announce the viceregal progress to Halim Basha. I dared not speak; but hoped that my signs would be understood. By night-fall we reached Cairo and, as was customary, we carried150 lighted torches on each side of the coach. Thousands witnessed our progress through the streets; I heard again the remark that the Effendina looked ill, and there was also a silence amidst the onlookers which made me wonder whether any suspected the truth. When we had passed through the Bab en-Nasr and were crossing the tract of desert which separates that gate from the palace at Abbasiyeh, the Ulema praised God and let the corpse fall forward. Elfy Bey cursed the old man and lifted the body into position again.
‘Once inside the palace there was nothing further to do than to await the return of El Hami from Damietta. It would then be time enough to announce the death of Abbas and to proclaim his young son as successor to the viceregal throne. Elfy would then have been the virtual ruler of Egypt. By the mercy of Allah his plans were frustrated and a bullet ended his earthly career. I was not long in seeking out my present master, and what services I may have rendered have been liberally rewarded.
‘You may wish to know more of Hassan and Husseyn, whose disappearance after the murder I had noticed. I have since heard that they are now in the service of Princess Zohra, and, to tell you the truth, they were in her service before they ever set foot in Egypt.’
Zohra had at last avenged the death of her first love.