Rosetta, modern and ancient—Interesting associations of this locality—Ruins and mosques—Wonderful activity of bird life during the winter months—Experiences at Rosetta and other fortified cities on the coast—An Arab dinner, its etiquette and its dishes.

WHILE in command of the coast it became necessary for me to make frequent visits to Rosetta, thirty miles east of Alexandria, near the mouth of one of the branches of the Nile delta. Before the construction of the railroad, the beautiful bay of Aboukir was a delightful half-way station at which to take a day's rest. I often visited the bay and the site of the ancient city of Canopus, picturesquely situated on the tongue of land between the sea and the bay. Here are a nest of fortifications and a fine prospect, both seaward and landward. Excavations twenty or thirty feet down have disclosed the débris of the city, and there have been unearthed many statues and broken fragments, as well as the ruins of a marble aqueduct built to convey fresh water from the old Canopus branch of the Nile, now lost in what is known as Lake Elko, all trace of its connection with the ruin being at present obliterated. Here a temple of Isis attracted great throngs of the religious to the shrine of the goddess, and thousands of joyous devotees made the river resound with song and dance on their way to this notorious centre of sin and amusement. Under Greek rule Canopus became a great watering-place, to use a phrase of to-day, no less celebrated than of old for its orgies held in honor of the voluptuous goddess who had been adopted into the Greek Pantheon. It was in this beautiful bay that Nelson achieved his naval triumph in 1798 (battle of the Nile) in the destruction of the French fleet under Brueix. The French subsequently revenged themselves by plunging into this very bay 10,000 Turks as a propitiation to the manes of their vanquished countrymen. One of the attractions of the place to me was the hospitable old Turk whose chief occupation was prayer, and whose sole diversion was the inspection of his numerous forts. He was remarkable for his fondness for cats, of which he had a regiment. Besides, they and the dogs are really institutions of Egypt. Throughout his life the old Bey showed in this way his reverence for the Prophet, who, it is related, had a similar weakness. Mahomet upon one occasion carried his tenderness so far that he cut off a piece of his robe upon which his pet cat was lying, rather than disturb the animal's dreams.

The favorite perch of this man's cats was his shoulder, and the caterwauling afforded no little merriment, as one cat descended in order that others might occupy this post of honor in their turn. The ancient Egyptians, like my friend the Bey, venerated the cat, and the killing of one of these animals was followed by instant death. Many mummies of cats are now found entombed, and the story is told that the killing of one led to the expulsion of a famous Greek from Egypt, who in revenge brought back Cambyses, the Persian conqueror, to defile her temples. While the Mahometan loves the cat, he evinces a dislike for the dog, an animal which, among all nations and in all ages, has been the ever-faithful companion of man. Homer says of Ulysses that, forgotten by his wife and family, he was remember by his dog. Nature seems to have intended him as the companion of man, and he delights in adding to his master's pleasure and protection. I have seen even the savage share with him his last morsel of game. But Mahomet disliked the canine race, and impressed his hatred upon his followers. They alone hold the dog in detestation as an unclean animal, excluding him from their houses and shunning him as they would a viper, for they hold that the touching of the creature is contamination which destroys the efficacy of prayer unless followed by numerous ablutions. The Arabs do not strike these animals, but give them food and shelter and use them as watchdogs and scavengers. They are seen asleep in crowded streets, the Arabs carefully passing them by. It is a singular fact that hydrophobia is unknown in Egypt. Though he is ordinarily a scurvy-looking cur, the Egyptian dog becomes a handsome animal under good treatment and makes a good watchdog. The Bedouin, on the contrary, in his isolated life, knows the value of dogs, and though a Mahometan, treats them with much greater kindness. It is dangerous to injure or kill one belonging to him.

The Mahometans' treatment of the dog affords an excellent idea of their habits. Their abhorrence grows out of the fact that the animal sometimes eats offal. But the cat is even worse than he, when not famished with hunger, and its vicious instincts have to be carefully guarded against. The ancient Egyptians understood the value of both cats and dogs, for Egypt was overrun then, as now, with rats and mice in houses and in the fields. Prudence required that the natural enemies of these vermin should be encouraged, so the priests protected them by law and religion. It was a piece of political wisdom thus to command the respect of the people by protecting these animals, so indispensable in their purely agricultural country.

Rosetta, called by the Arabs Raschid, is thought to be the ancient city of Melitus, and is situated near the mouth of the Rosetta branch of the Nile. There was always a large garrison here, where I have often inspected as many as 10,000 men. A few miles distant is the old fort of St. Julian, which was occupied by the French when they were in Egypt. It was in this place that the famous Rosetta stone—the first key to the hieroglyphic writings of ancient Egypt—was found.

The city was once populous, but for many years its venerable-looking structures, desolate and uninhabited, have reminded the traveller of a city of the dead. The mouth of the river being choked by the Nile mud, Mehemet Ali conceived the idea of cutting the grand Mamondieh Canal so as to connect the Nile above here with the magnificent Bay of Alexandria. This isolated Rosetta and destroyed its importance, but now that a railroad connects it with the bay, it is being transformed once more into a busy mart ; its once beautiful gardens begin again to smile with verdure, and the feathered songsters that had abandoned the sterile wastes have returned to their rosy bowers. The remains of parterres and gardens begin again to look beautiful with their perfumed hedges inclosing the pomegranate, citron, orange, and the waving date-tree. Here in the month of October no blighting frost stops the progress of nature, and a shower now and then, like a spring day in a cold climate, tempers the atmosphere, while the beams of the returning sun bring a more genial warmth. There is never any check to vegetation, as is the case for so many months in other countries, where nature clothes herself in the mantle of decayed vegetation. At Rosetta, as everywhere on the coast, the winds and rains alone temper the climate. Artificial heat is rarely necessary, and the songbirds of Europe prefer this for their winter residence to the drier climate of Cairo. They like the neighborhood of Rosetta, where they can linger among perfumed flowers and broad fields extending for many miles on both sides of the river. The Arab's fondness for birds is remarkable. He will sit for hours in these gardens watching and listening to them with patient delight. His favorite among all the birds that visit him is the dove, and he will often follow that bird into the thick shades of the shrubbery that he may better hear the music of its cooing.

The nightingale on his winter visit to Egypt seems strangely gloomy and unsocial. To the wonder of the Arabs, he shuns all communion with his fellows, mopes in solitude, and remains as silent as the desert which surrounds his seclusion. There he sits moping from October till March, but the happy return of spring inspires him with new life, and he once more seeks the vine-clad hills of his native land, where the forests soon echo with the sweet strains of the king of the singing birds. In the month of September the great migration of the quail commences from Europe across the Mediterranean to the shores of Egypt, and then the air is dark with countless thousands of those birds. Many rest on the islands in their passage, and numbers seek a resting-place on any passing vessel ; some fall into the sea, but the myriads that darken the shores of Egypt constitute a real wonder. Tired with their long flight, they are easily captured, and Egyptian hospitality is violated by their seizure when deprived of strength to fly. Over two hundred thousand of them are sent alive to Paris and London, at the time of their coming in September and on their return in the spring.

At a fort, a short distance above Rosetta, situated on quite a high isolated sand-hill, there is a view across a perfect level, with no barrier but the distant horizon, and yet the picture is a majestic one. To the north the thread-like outline of the shore which separates the landscape from the sea and the foaming waves at the mouth of the Nile mark the boundary of the distant waters. To the east are unfolded emerald fields and the ever-beautiful carpet of the delta. To the west lies the Libyan Desert, which nature has forever stamped with the indelible seal of sterility. Beneath the hill upon which the fort is situated is the mosque of Abou Mandar, or “ Father of Light.” Besides being a brilliant example for the Faithful, the saint possesses many other remarkable virtues. As Rosetta through all her history has been fearful of being overwhelmed by the sands of the desert, the presence of this pious saint alone has saved it from the impending doom. Not only do deserts stand in dread of this mighty lord who holds in his hands their shifting sands, but he is the canonized enemy of all sterility. The beautiful women of Egypt who have no saint nearer at hand come hither to implore the beneficent offices of the Father of Light, and after performing nine days' devotion under the protecting care of the sheik who attends the mosque, it is rarely that the great boon so absolutely necessary to the fortune and happiness of a Mahometan woman is not bestowed. This mosque is situated immediately on the bank of the river, and no boat or vessel ever passes it without propitiating its powerful titular saint.

During official visits along the coast of Egypt, the arrival of the commanding general at any of the forts is the signal for a fête. The fatted lamb being killed, the low round table is soon set, covered by a single waiter. The dinner, el ghada, being announced, basin and ewer, tisht and ibreck, are brought, and every one is expected to wash his hands and mouth carefully with running water. A silver tray, seeneeyah, is placed upon the table, sufrah, and is large enough to cover it. The guests being seated (usually at each sufrah there were five or six persons), condiments and lemons with round cakes of bread in shape something like a Mexican tortilla are placed before each guest, together with an ebony, tortoise-shell, or ivory spoon. The roomy sleeve of the Arab being rolled up above the elbow, and the Bi-smi-llah (“ in the name of God”) repeated by each person present, the repast commences. The first dish, a large tureen of very fine soup slightly flavored with lemon-juice, is placed in the midst of the table. It is etiquette for the highest Pacha to help himself first, and it was usually my office to take that dip, which was done with the ivory spoon, all others following suit, and all helping themselves out of the same tureen. No one was expected to stop until the Pacha signalled “ enough,” and knowing that they liked soup, I have often felt, when ready to acknowledge myself surfeited, that politeness made it necessary for me to continue the interesting occupation. The next dish was a whole sheep barbecued and perfectly well done. Again the Pacha took the first pick—no knives or forks were ever used. During the picking process, if the host particularly cherished his guest, he testified his regard by picking out a very nice piece and giving it to him, even putting it into his mouth if their relations were very friendly. This compliment is of course returned.

The “ picking” never stopped until only the skeleton of the sheep was left. The result of this effort was that by the time the sheep was devoured we were tolerably sated. This eating with the fingers is much more delicate than those unacquainted with the process would imagine. The Saviour and apostles ate from one dish, and it is a general Eastern custom. Even in Greece and Rome the cultivated classes ate with the fingers. The food is specially prepared to aid this manner of disposing of it. The other dishes which followed in succession for twenty or more courses at an Arab banquet, were stuffed turkey and chickens, rich stewed and boiled meats with onions, okra eaten with lemon-juice, and other vegetables. A very fine dish called the warak-mashee consisted of minced meat and rice wrapped in vine-leaves delicately seasoned with salt, pepper, onions, garlic, and parsley, the whole being boiled together. Cucumber, khiyar, and a kind of gourd called the kara koosah are stuffed with spiced mince-meat and boiled, and are very nice to the taste. Small pieces of lamb roasted on skewers, fish dressed with oil, and every variety of vegetables, sweets, and fruits between the dishes were wont to appeal to the most capricious tastes of the guest. The kunafeh never fails. This is a dish made of flour, and it looks like vermicelli, but is finer, being fried in butter and sweetened with sugar and honey. Thin pastry is rolled into leaves as fine as paper and put one on the other, with curd scattered throughout the folds, and then it is baked. The last dish is rice boiled with butter, ruzz mufelfel, and seasoned with salt and pepper. This is followed by a sweet drink, khushaf, water sweetened with raisins boiled in it and then cooled ; rose-water is added, which perfumes it. Before leaving the table the guests are perfumed with rose-water or the smoke of some aromatic plant. I can give but a meagre description of an Arab dinner. This hospitable treatment being extended at numerous forts made it a great pleasure to get back to an ordinary dinner at home, and a secret dread of the feasting would come over me when the time for visiting came. These feasts are exceptional ; ordinarily the people are the most economical in the world, and live frugally ; it is only on an occasion like this or some other fête day that they show such prodigal hospitality. After dinner you squat on the divan, and the traditional pipes and cigars are served, the ceremonial coffee is introduced, numerous salaams or salutations are exchanged between the guests and the host, and these acceptable accessories are discussed with unrestrained zest.

The conviviality commences in earnest while sipping coffee and smoking. Arabs then lose their gravity and continually joke one another, being very fond of badinage. A funny saying quite captivates them. The merchant and the donkey-boy are easily moved with a jest, and the women in their hours of ease, with coffee and cigarettes, which with the higher classes consume most of the time, amuse themselves at each other's cost. They never get angry, however sharp the jest may be. At all these entertainments if the host thinks it will be pleasing, the Ghawazzee or dancing girls are introduced, many of them being very handsome. These dance without their veils, to the slow music of the kamingah or kanoon, a dance resembling the fandango of Spain. As the women of the harem are very fond of the dance, the dancing girls usually make their display where the ladies can see the performance through their veiled windows.

Rosetta and Aboukir were the scene of torpedo experiments under the direction of Colonel William Ward, who was stationed here for a long time. It was a great pleasure to meet him here in his field of operations. These two interesting places would, in my association, lose much of their interest without him. The colonel had been an officer in both the United States and Confederate navies, and was appreciated in them. No officer labored in Egypt in more varied duties, for he was a true American type of adaptability where sense and experience were required. If the Khedive wanted a distant exploration made where ability and scientific training were essential, or if he desired a perfect system of torpedoes, or a distant and unknown harbor and river critically and faithfully reported upon, this gallant sailor and soldier, for he seemed equally adapted to both professions, was certain to be selected. The Khedive knew that no one could be more trusted to furnish him the information he required.

Part I, Chapter III

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