MORE RELIGIOUS OBSERVANCES, SPRING’S AWAKENING, AND THE CAIRENE HOUSE OF COUNT ZOGHEB

THE religious observances, the festivals, and the superstitions of Islam have been so fully described by Lane that it seems presumptuous to attempt to do so here. But they are so intimately associated with the life and character of the Egyptians that it is impossible to describe the people amongst whom I have so long lived without referring to these observances. From the first day of the month of the Prophet every street and bazaar in Cairo show some signs that the Moolid en-Nebi will soon be on us. Bands of dervishes, carrying the banners of the sects to which they belong, make happy incidents in the streets through which they pass. Should we go past a dervish tekke the sound of a zikr will be heard; and should we be bold enough to peep in we may see a group of men swaying backwards and forwards, and hear them repeat in unison the name of Allah till physical exhaustion causes a pause. Queer-looking fakirs beg for alms in the name of the Prophet; and whether they have lain low during ordinary times and only donned their rags for the great occasion, I cannot tell, but they turn up now like butterflies on a fine spring morning.

It is pleasant to wander about the streets of the old171 quarters after sunset. Their usual dark and deserted appearance is enlivened here and there by a display of lanterns hung beneath a marvellously patterned awning, and one’s curiosity is incited to know with what thrilling romance the sháer is engaging the attention of his audience. It is also curious to find men who, after the religious excitement of a zikr, will sit in ecstasies in the little theatres while the sensuous dance of the ghazeeyeh is performed. Arabic music can also be heard at its best. Incomprehensible at first, as a strange language to the foreigner, it has a subtle charm which increases as the sounds become more familiar. A dark lane, where one or two small lanterns mark the entrances of some old mameluke palaces, may of a sudden be lighted at one end by the approach of a band of dervishes carrying now flaming cressets in lieu of the banners we may have seen in the daytime.

I neglected the old quarters, during my last stay in Cairo, when the month of the Prophet was on us. The commonplace, but luxurious, modern quarters were made glorious by the wreath of blossoming shrubs and trees which adorned them. The Esbekiyeh gardens, which I usually avoid, were a great attraction to me then. A large and rather gimcrack grotto, which I thought a horror during the winter, was now almost smothered by the gorgeous blossom of the bougainvillea. Seldom have I seen such an orgy of colour. I made some studies of it which I have since found useful; but I should then have left the bougainvillea severely alone. I heard of a fine display of its blossom in the zoological gardens, where I knew that the small entrance fee as172 well as the other attractions would allow me to work with less of an admiring crowd. Captain Flower (to whom we are indebted for having made this collection of the fauna and birds of Africa one of the most interesting in the world) gave me every facility for working in the gardens which he controls. Besides the masses of bougainvillea, I found the bohenia in full bloom; the hibiscus was in flower, the poinciana regia, as well as many other subtropical shrubs.

I started a morning as well as an afternoon drawing of the bougainvillea, and much as I was taken by this display of colour in nature, I found that somehow or another I could not get it to look pictorially right on my paper. The purplish-crimson fought unpleasantly with the green, and with the blue of the sky. It is a pity; for the otherwise delightful days I spent at the Gizeh gardens have this black mark against them.

The bougainvillea had hardly shed its blossom when the jacaranda began to show what it is capable of, both as to its beauty as in the difficulties it sets before the painter who attempts to record the delicacy of its colouring. I thought nothing more of the bougainvillea when the jacaranda put on its spring garments. Leafless trees of a graceful growth, which may be seen in almost every garden, but which we simply label in our minds as trees without paying them any further attention, become each one an object of admiration when April glides into May. I had generally been in Upper Egypt during that season, or had left the country too soon to see the jacaranda in bloom. The cherry-blossom had attracted me to Japan the previous year, I have made173 studies of the almond tree and the peach during one or two seasons in Italy, and I never fail to get at the apple-blossom should I happen to be in England in May. Each in its turn has filled me with enthusiasm. But there is none to compare with the beauty of the jacaranda.

Its local colour is a pale violet, but when the declining sun plays amongst its bloom-laden twigs, it tells as a mass of warm pink against the turquoise sky. The fear of a hamseen increases as the blossom gets to perfection, for two or three days of the hot dry wind may rob the trees of most of their beauty. The colour is so different under a sand-laden sky that it is hopeless to continue a drawing begun when the wind came from a better quarter. Should the hamseen have done its worst before these trees break into blossom, we may enjoy their beauty for a fortnight or more. When once the green buds show between the blossoms, we know that in a day or two all will be over. The rapidity with which a leafless tree c............