The One I Knew Least of All, Part IV

From childhood Egypt had seemed a friendly spot. It was the only country that reconciled one to history. Those other countries that were always fighting and changing their princes and their boundaries were simply too confusing. Egypt stayed put. If you wanted more of her history, you dug in; you didn't go off on the edges.

It was to be an exciting journey, for the one I knew least was to make all the traveling arrangements. Up to that time I am quite sure she had never bought a railroad ticket; at home she went from one end of the country to the other by simply getting on the train. But now all the arrangements were to be made, and she was to make them.

It was decided by the travelers that the best plan was to take the train from Paris to Brindisi, then the P. and O. boat to Port Said. Fortified with tickets and luggage, the three women reached the station at ten in the morning and boarded their train. Shortly the wheels were turning pleasantly and they were on their way. But they were scarcely out of the station when an excited conductor declared that everything was wrong. I don't know to this day what was really the matter; whether they were a day too early or too late, or whether it should have been an afternoon train-I don't know. But certainly they had no sleeping-car tickets for that train. And the excited Frenchman asserted that the best possible plan was for the ladies to return to their homes.

The ladies had no intention of returning to their homes, with all their belongings in the baggage car bound for Brindisi. And they so stated their position. Another conductor was called, who grew even more excited than the first. Together they decided that the ladies should descend at the next station. The ladies sank to the cushion-and despair, when suddenly two eyes fastened themselves on he end of a traveling bag in the rack overhead; the initials, in nice black letters, were followed by the magic words, “Oakland, California.” Oh, the relief! The ladies assured the conductor that there was no need for anxiety; they would not descend; they would wait for the gentleman from California. As was expected, when California learned their difficulties the traveling bag came down and the ladies were left in undisputed possession of the compartment. Ever blessed by California! particularly Oakland. Thus do whole communities reap blessings from the conduct of one of their members.

Nevertheless, I've wondered why Eve is always so delighted to take an unfair advantage and put it in the pigeon-hole marked chivalry.

Sunset From the Alabaster Mosque

Cairo! The magic of that word! It was just at sundown when they reached the city. They had been told that they must watch the sunset from the Alabaster Mosque. They left their luggage at the hotel and drove straight to the citadel. It was a race with the sun, their horses galloping through the streets, hurrying by the strange, fascinating little shops in archways and niches; the people rushing to and fro, the drivers calling “Al-ye-menak!” to warn the surging crowds out of the way.

With noise and shouting they galloped up the ramp leading to the citadel. As they reached the summit the noise of the city seemed to drop away, and they came into a great quiet when they left the carriage and walked to the parapet. They had won their race with the sun; he was just touching the horizon. And there, before them, were the Pyramids and the desert and-wonder upon wonders-the Nile, older than the Pyramids, yet always young; the mother of Egypt.

This extraordinary river! And she is the one river that really empties. Other rivers have tributaries; for more than a thousand miles she sweeps on her way alone, flooding the land with her riches. It is as if she were loath to leave the valley which needs her, to throw herself into the careless, devouring sea. So she loiters on the way, giving herself; and the torrents of Abyssinia dwindle into the mud flats of the delta.

Twilight touched the edges of the mosque. But the travelers were heedless. Something held them like a presence; suddenly they knew; it was the desert. It seemed that they could stretch out their hands and touch it; it was miles and miles away. The Pyramids were little black specks upon the desert; to someone standing on the Mokattam Hills thousands of years before, the Pyramids had been little black specks upon the desert. Those thousands of years seemed to give assurance, certainly of centuries to come; there seemed nothing in the world but time, and life had been so hurried.

First Impression of the Sphinx

They drove back slowly through the dark and quiet streets. The shops were lighted now by the torches; the owners, sitting in the center of their tiny alcoves, their goods piled at back and on either hand, seemed like “rather friendly spiders, luring victims into not too dangerous webs.” But cities had lost their savor; the desert called.

The noise of Cairo was distracting, and before noon of their next day the travelers had found a hotel some nine miles from the city, and a very short distance from the Pyramids and the Sphinx. They felt that their first meeting with the Sphinx demanded ceremony and forethought; it did not seem quite possible to treat him as a chance acquaintance. They made their arrangements at the hotel for camels and a guide, and waited for night and the moon. When the moon had risen they gathered their little caravan together and started out.

It was a world of mystery and silence. Their road lay past the pyramids, and soon they were in the presence of the Sphinx. The great creature seemed to “draw the breath of eternity.” They were suddenly conscious of a new possession, a sense of beauty and grandeur-surely one of the great gifts life has to bestow.

They never lost the wonder of that first impression of the Sphinx. Though they saw it many, many times in the months that followed, at high noon and midmorning, and though they lived within a few hundred yards of it for many, many days, they never lost the majesty of that first impression.

Everything was so strange and awe-inspiring they were in the mood to be overmastered; and when one of the unbelievable persistent guides decided that they wished him to arrange a native dance at a near-by village, they offered no resistance and agreed with him that it would be more satisfactory to see the dancers in the native environment. As evening approached it was born in upon them that it was one thing to go to the Pyramids with an accredited guide from the hotel, and it was a quite another to wander off to a strange village with a guide whose only recommendation was that he had browbeaten them into engaging him.

When the man arrived with the camels and drivers, three very frightened women were waiting. There had been some jocular remarks about ransom, being held for at lest a dignified sum-but they were whistling to keep their courage up. The man seemed to expect them to mount the camels and they did. The camels limbered themselves together and ambled off. There was a moon, but the travelers confessed to each other afterward that they never saw it; it might have been as black as Erebus for all they knew or cared.

There seemed a great many more men than were needed for three camels. One thing was certain: Whatever happened, one of the travelers would not get of her camel. She would make some excuse-that she was tired, or could see better; some idea would come to her. They plowed through soft sand and plodded over hard sand but nothing came to help in their escape. They arrived at three palm trees; surely this was not the village! Yes, those little black dots were huts; and that indistinct mass was resolving itself into human creatures, and they were coming forward. No one spoke. Whatever happened, she would not get off the camel. A little imp the size of a grasshopper said something to the camel. The world lurched forward and backward, and the camel shut up like a jackknife and rested on the ground. The imp the size of a grasshopper told the traveler to get off the camel, and she got off.

Into the Desert

As a magnet attracts steel filings, in that manner the three women drew toward one another. Eons of time went by. A great respect was born for the race of Egypt. What vitality, to endure for six thousand years when one night could be as long as this!

Declining assistance, they remounted the camels. They knew they were not on the road that led to the hotel. Their minds stopped. Suddenly they were on their feet and thanking the guide for an interesting evening. No-not the next day-the heat was oppressive, they would rest... ! And there was the moon! And there were people in the hotel walking about! And here were their rooms; and here they were inside them, safe and sound. It had indeed been an interesting evening.

They decided to live in the desert, and the very courteous people of the hotel did everything to forward the project. They were now in the care of “the perfect dragoman” Sulieman Mohammed, who in an incredibly short time-two days, I think-had a bewildering array of tents and cooks and camels and horses and donkeys and donkey boys-in a word, he provided a camp. They felt themselves second only to Julius Caesar traveling with his cohorts. The day before their journey began they were allowed to have tea-a little unlike Caesar-in their tent; but they were advised to wait till the morning and make an early start. For they were to have a jaunt across the desert to the Fayum, ten days going and coming; then they were to settle down.

The desert! “Empty of all save sun and mystery”...The long, long rides across the desert. The great heat at noonday. The inexpressible pleasure of sliding off the horse when that vagabond stranger, sleep, would sidl up; and with pebbles for a pillow and a helmet over the eyes, one would become part of the unknown for a blessed hour.

Sulieman was evidently a favorite with the people of the desert. Wherever the travelers pitched their camp, the chief of the neighboring village would send guards to protect them; as the travelers were three women alone, they were glad of this carefulness. Thanks to Sulieman, they were treated with the greatest consideration. In one of the more important villages they were invited to the chief's house. They were shown into a large room, quite cool, though it was May. The ceilings were very high; bent-wood furniture stood against the walls, and the whole place was spotlessly clean. Several gentlemen had been asked to meet the foreign ladies, among them a charming man who spoke French fluently; he was a traveler; he had visited France. The other men looked upon him, not enviously but as if they felt him to be a favorite of the gods. They showed keen interest in the outer world, but seemed amused that the “foreign ladies” should be interested in their lives. They had beautiful voices, and more charming manners were never seen.

To the great surprise of the travelers the chief asked if they would like to visit the harem. Would they like to visit the harem! When they recovered from their surprise and expressed their delight, they were taken across what at home might have been the stable yard; then, the men having left them, they clambered up a flight of stairs, proceeded by five or six frightened chickens squawking and clucking, half flying from step to step. At the top of the stairs, by the door which led to the women's quarters, sat an old woman with a young child in her arms. The chickens were shooed out of the way, and the visitors entered a room where three young women were waiting for them. The eldest was very beautiful with gentle dignity. She was the widow of the eldest son. The two others were very young and plump; the one in brilliant yellow brocade, the other in bright, light blue. There wasn't a word among the five of them, but there was fun in all their eyes and they got on famously. The visitors were offered cigarettes and candy, and were shown all sorts of pretty things in the room. This room also was spotlessly clean. A four-poster bed with chintz curtains and a valance was a proud object. With the air of telling an important secret, cosmetics were brought out, black stuff for the eyes and browny red for the lips, and the manner of their use was shown in pantomime.

True Daughters of Eve

Suddenly the old woman at the door started up, calling out a warning. With a little scream of fright all three girls sprang upon the bed and drew the curtains tight. And not a second too soon, for Sulieman appeared in the doorway. He had been allowed to come up to serve as interpreter. Looking neither to right nor left, he stalked to a window and directed his eyes to a house across the way.

Not a sound behind the curtains, but two black eyes peeped out, then two more black eyes, the eldest girl cried out “Sulieman!” and they all sprang to the floor, chattering and laughing. They were true daughters of Eve, as Sulieman soon found. They were unveiled, and evidently Sulieman was on his honor not to look. They consulted as to ways of teasing him. They held candy under his nose and tried to veer him round. evidently they said very saucy things, which convulsed him with laughter; but he never looked at them. One of them got between him and the window-and he shut his eyes; then there was wild delight. He was forced to beat a retreat; and the foreigners came away feeling they had been a little misinformed as to the doleful life of the women of the Orient.

Another long ride across the desert brought the travelers to another friendly chief who wished to send his dancing girls to entertain them. The travelers were, of course, delighted. After dinner a troupe of dancers and musicians arrived. A circle probably thirty feet in diameter was formed; lanterns hanging on spearheads marked its boundaries.

The dance was quite beautiful in the half light of a young moon. And very funny was the burlesque imitation the men gave afterward, to the intense delight of the dancing girls themselves and the amusement of the musicians. Then Sulieman, for his part of the performance, put his favorite horse through its paces; Sulieman now standing in the saddle swinging his rifle in great circles, then dropping to the horse's back and galloping the little beast round and round and round the tiny circle, and hauling him up on his haunches a scant three feet from a lady's nose! Fortunately it was dark and the pallor of her face could not be seen; for pallor there must have been, or feelings were deceivers.

The politics of modern Egypt had become very interesting, and when the travelers returned from the Fayum and pitched their tents a respectful distance from the Sphinx, they sought anything and everything that would throw light upon the political situation, and an absorbingly complex situation it was.

I think it was Henry James who complained that there was no American Punch to give small boys the imagination of living with their public administrators. But as a young child in the days at school, the one I knew least had lived in her grandmother's house. Henry James did not know it, but he had drawn a faithful portrait of her grandmother; a brave presence; her strong simplicity was that of an earlier, quieter world; she had the courage of her character; her traditions were all she needed, and she lived by them candidly and stoutly.

First Taste of World News

And she knew politics fore and aft. She was a staunch Republican, though not a prejudiced one. When Mr. Cleveland was in the presidency, though one of his rulings cost her half her income, she stoutly maintained that he was a good President and a great man, though she was not in sympathy with the policies of the Democratic party. her morning paper-Republican, of course-was a source of great delight. The farm was far out in the country, and the morning paper was delivered by a little boy on horseback; and Grandmother, who was sixty, and grandaughter, who was ten, would race down to the garden gate to see which could get the paper first; with the understanding, however, which had been firmly established, that whoever got the paper first, Grandmother should be the first to red it. The news of the day was sifted out, but the editorials were devoured. Punch was not needed in that household. They lived the life of the Presidents and knew every day what was happening, though they were far, far out of the world. The little boy on horseback was their messenger.

This interest in the lives of the Presidents became a lifelong habit. During a Republican administration, the President had been so unlucky as to incur the displeasure of the one I knew least; she had not approved of his attitude toward his predecessor. Just as this time she was to play in Washington. On the morning of her arrival, among the first letters that reached her hotel was one marked “The Executive Mansion.” In former administrations, when she had happened to know someone who was visiting the White House, or if the play had been very popular, such an envelope would have meant a pleasant message or, if she were very fortunate, an invitation of some sort. But at that moment she wished no pleasant messages and no invitation. It was difficult, very difficult. She knew an invitation from the White House was a command; this idea of the President's being the servant of the people was pure nonsense. She tried to think of some plan which would make her too ill to go to the White House, yet able to play at night. She thought it over desperately for fully two hours. They she decided to face it and opened the envelope. It was from a little page in the White House, asking for an autograph.

The British influence in the politics of modern Egypt became more and more interesting to the one I knew least, and the temples of ancient Egypt sank restfully into their past. To be truthful, the Englishmen she had liked best had been either Scotch, Irish or Welsh; and prejudice was very strong, partly owing to the United States histories she had waded through as a child, histories which still lingered with the Revolution and were hot and heavy with the War of 1912; and partly, perhaps, from the lack of understanding which often exists between the younger members of a family and their elders.

But the history of the elder brothers in Egypt was filled with pages to be proud of. If they had done nothing else, the British had done two things for which the Egyptians should be eternally grateful. With the extraordinary system of irrigation which they had introduced, they had doubled the food supply of Egypt. With Lord Cromer's great achievement when he abolished forced labor, when “for the first time, perhaps, in all history, Egypt's labor was free” England had given Egypt self-respect. What more can man do for his brother?

Summer was coming very fast and the heat in the South was appalling, but the travelers determined to see the great temples of Karnak and Luxor before leaving for Palestine. When they reached Luxor they learned that the Queen of X was just ending her visit, and that very night the Temple of Karnak was to be illuminated in her honor.

Imagine the delight of the travelers when they were told that the queen had asked to have the visitors still remaining in Luxor included in her delightful party! There were only five strangers left in the hotel-an Englishman and his wife and the three Americans.

The Englishman was much impressed, though not surprised, by “the graciousness of Her Majesty.”

A Mischievous Prince

It was indeed a strange and an extraordinary scene. The huge pylon at the entrance was crowned with flaming bonfires. The lotos columns in the Hall of the Hypostyle-so huge that nine men with arms a-stretch could barely circle one of them-were like ghosts in the shifting light of the bonfires and lanterns. A flash of magnesium, and the great columns would spring into place; then everything would be dark; but little by little they would take shape softly as they rested in the moonlight.

The guards in their long, black robes moved in an dout with the shadows with infinite grace, their faces in the fitful light like Rameses the King.

The queen and one or two attendants took their places in a little car, very unregal, that was used for removing the debris during excavations; a car much smaller, but very like that little horsecar that used to meander across Twenty-eighth Street. The young princes were delightful. The crown prince was a charming, dignified young creature. But his brother ! Never was so much mischief possible in so little time. The people looking after him were on nettles. The queen bore up very well, pretending not to see his antics; but presently it ws too much to be endured, and he was invited to sit beside her in the car. It was so homelike, not at all like the queens and princes our Western ideas have thriven upon. “Ourself” had always been a little contemptuous of princes; we were always told they were such good little boys.

Eventually the Americans had to desert the Englishman; every time the bonfires burned a little more brightly, or their guide moved a little more quickly, “It was very gracious of Her Majesty.”

The next day they learned that Her Majesty was returning to Cairo in the evening, and that her car would be attached to their train. The nice Englishman was bursting with pride and importance.

A Late Dinner-for the Crowd

They went to the station promptly and found their places, but there was a slight delay. Suspicion fell upon the young prince, but it may have been unjust. At any rate, the queen's car was not ready to start and everyone waited round a bit. The Englishman was a little disturbed. He didn't care to have trains late. One never knew what might happen to schedules; there was always a possibility of misunderstanding and accidents; he preferred to have trains on time! It was seven-forty-five by the clock when the train started, and the steward-welcome sight-appeared in the passageway to announce dinner. That is, so it was supposed. But no. He said that the queen would dine at eight, and the passengers would be told when the dining car would be ready for them.

A slight gloom settled on the Englishman. About nine o'clock he rose to reconnoiter. There was no hope.

At nine-thirty he went straight to the dining car with several hungry men. Still no hope. At ten o'clock they were told they might go in. There was a great rush, but unfortunately everything was overcooked and quite cold; all in all, it was very dismal.

They reached Cairo the next morning. Oh, so hot it was! As they drew in under the great glass roof of the station, at the far end of the platform there was an awning and a red carpet, and all the governmental personnages of Egypt were waiting to greet the queen. When she emerged, charming in lace and furbelows, the passengers thought at least they would be allowed to land. Ah, no. Their part of the train was backed out of the station, and they found themselves pulling into the cattle yard. It was a curious arrangement; there was a space of four feet or more between the train and the platform, and no way of bridging it. Royalty's stock was going very low. A Frenchman and his wife were the first to venture. That is, the Frenchman was. His wife-no! She would not, and she made a dreadful time about it. But with two men pushing and two pulling, her husband exhorting, she threw herself on her fate and landed safely, sputtering like a little wet hen. One after another the passengers took the hazard good-naturedly enough, like sheep leaping a brook. But when the Englishman's turn came he braced himself for the leap and, throwing a last, cold look at royalty, “That queen's a nuisance! muttered the Englishman.

A Lesson From the Ants

It was at the end of their journeying. They were coming down a hill overlooking an old, old city. There was a great to-do in the path; a colony of ants was hurrying to and fro hoarding up the winter stores.

Among them was one little brother much smaller than the rest, with a load more than twice his size; he was making attempt after attempt to carry his burden over a log to the boarding place. All the lighter-burdened ants were scaling the log with perfect ease, but the little fellow couldn't divide his burden; it was all or nothing. He pushed himself halfway up the side of the log, and fell back to the ground; some of his friends gave him a look as they passed on. He started again and again, reached his halfway place on the log, and fell.

Again and again the little thing renewed his effort, sometimes pushing a little farther, but always falling back. His strength was going; he would lie still beside his burden to rest and recover, but apparently with never a thought of deserting; and crowds of ants were going by heedless. He made an extraordinary effort; he was almost at the peak-one little push more. He was so spent he couldn't force it, and all his strength was put out to hold his burden and prevent its falling back. Another little ant came from somewhere in the crowd; he put himself behind the load, and together they pushed the thing over the top. The stranger took himself off about his own affairs. The little fellow, pulling and hauling, fell to the ground on the right side of the log and made off with his treasures to the goal.

It was a little thing, but it gave courage when courage was needed; for it had always seemed that if one were sincere and going in the right direction, help would come from somewhere.

It was wonderful to be home again. But the play she was given for the winter was an unfortunate choice. It was a good play, but the one I knew least was not good in it; she was impossible in it. What with illness and disappointment, she felt at the end of everything; and no little ant seemed to be coming up the log. But the following year brought Peter Pan, and help had come from Somewhere.