November, 1842.

My dear Friend,

I will continue the subject I left incomplete in my last. Several of the finest mosques in Cairo front the main street of the city. In proceeding along this street from north to south, the first mosque that particularly attracts notice is the Barkookeeyeh, on the right side.

This is a collegiate mosque, and was founded in the year of the Flight 786 (A. D. 1384–5). It has a fine dome, and a lofty and elegant mÁd’neh; and the interior is particularly handsome, though in a lamentable state of decay.

A little beyond this, on the same side of the street, are the tomb, mosque, and hospital of the SultÁn KalÁ-oon, composing one united building. The tomb and mosque form the front part; the former is to the right of the latter; and a passage, which is the general entrance, leads between them to the hospital (MÁristÁn.^[31]) These three united buildings were founded in the year of the Flight 683 (A. D. 1284–5). The tomb has a very large mÁd’neh, and is a noble edifice; its front is coloured red and white, in squares: the interior is very magnificent. The mosque is not remarkable. The hospital contains two small oblong courts, surrounded by small cells, in which mad persons are confined and chained; men in one court, and women in the other. Though these wretched beings are provided for by the funds of the establishment, it is the custom to take them food, and they ask for it in a manner which is most affecting. But here I must make one consolatory remark: the poor creatures have certainly more than enough to eat, for none seemed hungry, and I observed that one of the men threw down a piece of bread which was given to him.

Judging by my own anxiety to ascertain the real state of the poor lunatics in the MÁristÁn, I cannot describe to you their condition too minutely. Our ears were assailed by the most discordant yells as soon as we entered the passage leading to the cells. We were first conducted into the court appropriated to the men, one of our servants attending us with the provisions. It is surrounded by small cells, in which they are separately confined, and each cell has a small grated window, through which the poor prisoner’s chain is fastened to the exterior. Here seemed exhibited every description of insanity. In many cells were those who suffered from melancholy madness; in one only I saw a cheerful maniac, and he was amusing some visitors exceedingly by his jocose remarks. Almost all stretched out their arms as far as they could reach, asking for bread, and one poor soul especially interested me by the melancholy tone of his supplications. Their outstretched arms rendered it frequently dangerous to pass their cells, for there is a railing in the midst of the court, surrounding an oblong space, which I imagine has been a tank, but which is now filled with stones; and this railing so confines the space appropriated to visitors, that one of our party was cautioned by the superintendent when she was not aware she was in arms’ length of the lunatics.

I trust that the mildness and gentleness of manner we observed in the keepers were not assumed for the time, and I think they were not, for the lunatics did not appear to fear them. The raving maniacs were strongly chained, and wearing each a collar and handcuffs. One poor creature endeavoured, by constantly shaking his chain, to attract pity and attention. They look unlike human beings; and the manner of their confinement, and the barren wretchedness of their cells, contributed to render the scene more like a menagerie than any thing else. It is true that this climate lessens the requirements of every grade in society, so that the poor generally sleep upon the bare ground, or upon thin mats; but it is perfectly barbarous to keep these wretched maniacs without any thing but the naked floor on which to rest themselves, weary, as they must be, by constant excitement.

I turned sick at heart from these abodes of wretchedness, and was led towards the court of the women. Little did I expect that scenes infinitely more sad awaited me. No man being permitted to enter the part of the building appropriated to the women, the person who had hitherto attended us gave the provision we had brought into the hand of the chief of the female keepers. The maniacs sit within the doors of open cells surrounding their court, and there is no appearance of their being confined. I shrunk as I passed the two first, expecting they would rush out; but being assured that they were chained, I proceeded to look into the cells, one by one. The first lunatic I remarked particularly, was an old and apparently blind woman, who was an object of peculiar interest, from the expression of settled sadness in her countenance. Nothing seemed to move her. A screaming raving maniac was confined in a cell nearly opposite to hers; but either from habit, or the contemplation of her own real and imagined sorrows, the confusion seemed by her perfectly unheeded. The cell next to hers presented to my view a young girl, about sixteen or seventeen years of age, in a perfect state of nudity; she sat in a crouching attitude, in statue-like stillness, and in the gloom of her prison she looked like stone. The next poor creature was also young, but older than the preceding, and she merely raised her jet-black eyes and looked at us through her dishevelled hair, not wildly, but calmly and vacantly. She, too, had no article of clothing. I was ill-prepared for the sight of such misery, and I hastily passed the poor, squalid, emaciated, raving maniacs, all without any covering; and was leaving the court, when I heard a voice exclaiming, in a melancholy tone of supplication, “Stay, O my mistress, give me five paras for tobacco before you go.” I turned, and the entreaty was repeated by a nice-looking old woman, who was very grateful when I assured her she should have what she required. She was clothed, and sitting almost behind the entrance of her cell, and seemed on the lookout for presents. The woman who was the superintendent gave her the trifle for me, and I hope she was permitted to spend it as she desired. She and the first I saw were the only two who were not perfect pictures of misery. If insanity, the most severe of human woes, calls for our tenderest sympathy, the condition of these wretched lunatics in Cairo cries aloud for our deepest commiseration. How their situation can be mended, I know not; the government alone can interfere, and the government does not.

We were informed that the establishment was endowed with remarkable liberality. It is, and always has been, a hospital for the sick, as well as a place of confinement for the insane; and originally, for the entertainment of those patients who were troubled with restlessness, a band of musicians and a number of story-tellers were in constant attendance.

The friend who conducted us related some anecdotes of the poor maniacs, to which I listened with interest. The first, I am told, has been related by some European traveller, in a work descriptive of the Egyptians; but as I do not know by whom, and you may not have read or heard it, I will give you that as well as the others.

A butcher, who had been confined some time in the MÁristÁn, conceived an excessive hatred for a Delee (a Turkish trooper), one of his fellow-prisoners. He received his provision of food from his family; and he induced his wife one day, on the occasion of her taking him his dinner, to conceal, in the basket of food, the instruments he had used in his trade, viz., a cleaver, a knife, and a pair of hooks. I must here observe, that those lunatics who do not appear dangerous have lighter chains than others, and the chains of the person in question were of this description. When he had taken his meal, he proceeded to liberate himself; and as the cells communicated by the back, he soon reached that of his nearest neighbour, who, delighted to see him free, exclaimed, “How is this? Who cut your chains?” “I did,” replied the first, “and here are my implements.” “Excellent,” rejoined the other, “cut mine too.” “Certainly,” said he; and he proceeded to liberate not only one, but two, three, and four of his fellow-prisoners. Now follows the tragical part of the story. No keepers were present—the man who possessed the cleaver attacked the poor Delee, chained and unarmed as he was; slaughtered him; and after dividing his body, hung it on the hooks within the window of the cell, and believed himself to be—what he was—a butcher.

In a few minutes the liberated lunatics became uproarious; and one of them growing alarmed, forced open the door by which the keepers usually entered, found one of them, and gave the alarm. The keeper instantly proceeded to the cell, and seeing the body of the murdered man, exclaimed:

“What, have you succeeded in killing that Delee? he was the plague of my life.” “I have,” answered the delinquent; “and here he hangs for sale.” “Most excellent,” replied the keeper, “but do not let him hang here; it will disgrace us: let us bury him.” “Where?” asked the maniac, still holding his cleaver in his hand. “Here in the cell,” replied the other, “and then the fact can never be discovered.” In an instant he threw down his cleaver, and began to dig busily with his hands. In the mean time, the keeper entered by the back of the cell, and throwing a collar over his neck, instantly chained him, and so finished this tragedy.

Some time since, the brother of the person who gave the following anecdote, on the occasion of his visiting the MÁristÁn, was accosted by one of the maniacs by name, and greeted him with the usual salutations, followed by a melancholy entreaty that he would deliver him from that place. On examining him particularly, he found him to be an old friend; and he was distressed by his entreaties to procure for him his liberation, and perplexed what to do. The lunatic assured him he was not insane, and at length the visitor resolved on applying for his release. Accordingly he addressed himself to the head-keeper on the subject, stated that he was much surprised by the conversation of the patient, and concluded by requesting his liberation. The keeper answered that he did appear sane at that time, but that perhaps in an hour he might be raving.

The visitor, by no means satisfied by the reply of the keeper, and overcome by the rational arguments of the lunatic, urged his request, and at length he consented, saying, “Well, you can try him.” This being arranged, in a short time the two friends set out together; and, engaged in conversation, they passed along the street, when suddenly, the maniac seized the other by the throat, exclaiming, “Help, O Muslims! here is a madman escaped from the MÁristÁn.” He wisely suffered himself to be dragged back in no gentle manner to the very cell whence he had released the poor lunatic; and the latter, on entering, called loudly for a collar and chain for a maniac he had found in the street, escaped from the MÁristÁn. The keeper immediately brought the collar and chain; and while pretending to obey his orders, slipped it over his neck, and secured him in his former quarters, I need not say, to the satisfaction of his would-be deliverer.

Our conductor also related, that some years ago, a maniac, having escaped from his cell in the MÁristÁn, when the keepers had retired for the night, ascended the lofty mÁd’neh of the adjoining sepulchral mosque, the tomb of the SultÁn Kala’oon. Finding there, in the gallery, a MuËddin, chanting one of the night-calls, uttering, with the utmost power of his voice, the exclamation “YÁ Rabb!”(O Lord!) he seized him by the neck. The terrified MuËddin cried out, “I seek God’s protection from the accursed devil! God is most great!”—“I am not a devil,” said the madman, “to be destroyed by the words, ‘God is most great!’” (Here I should tell you that these words are commonly believed to have the effect here ascribed to them, that of destroying a devil.) “Then what art thou?” said the MuËddin. “I am a madman,” answered the other, “escaped from the MÁristÁn.” “O welcome!” rejoined the MuËddin: “praise be to God for thy safety! come, sit down, and amuse me with thy conversation.” So the madman thus began: “Why do you call out so loud, ‘O Lord!’ Do you not know that God can hear you as well if you speak low?” “True,” said the other, “but I call that men may also hear.” “Sing,” rejoined the lunatic; “that will please me.” And upon this, the other commenced a kind of chant, with the ridiculous nature of which he so astonished some servants of the MÁristÁn, who, as usual, were sitting up in a coffee-shop below, that they suspected some strange event had happened, and hastily coming up, secured the madman.

After what I have told you of the miserable creatures at present confined in the MÁristÁn, I am very happy to add, that their condition will, I believe, in a few weeks, be greatly ameliorated. They are, I have since heard, to be removed to an hospital, where they will be under the superintendence of a celebrated French surgeon, Clot Bey.

I now return to the subject of the mosques.

Proceeding still southwards along the main street, we arrived at a fine mosque, called the Ashrafeeyeh, on the right. It was built by the SultÁn El-Ashraf BarsabÁy, consequently between the years 825–41 (A.D. 1421 et seq.). Frequently criminals are hanged against one of the grated windows of this mosque; as the street before it is generally very much crowded with passengers.

Still proceeding along the main street, through that part of it called the GhÓreeyeh (which is a large bazaar, or market), we arrive at the two fine mosques of the SultÁn El-GhÓree, facing each other, one on each side of the street, and having a roof of wood extending from one to the other. They were both completed in the year of the Flight 909 (A.D. 1503–4). That on the left, El-GhÓree designed as his tomb; but he was not buried in it.

Arriving at the southernmost part of the main street, we have on our right the great mosque of the SultÁn El-Mu-eiyad, which was founded in the year of the Flight 819 (A.D. 1416–17). It surrounds a spacious square court, and contains the remains of its royal founder, and of some of his family. It has a noble dome, and a fine lofty entrance-porch at the right extremity of the front. Its two great mÁd’nehs, which rise from the towers of the gate called BÁb Zuweyleh (the southern gate of that portion of the metropolis which constituted the old city).

Of the mosques in the suburban districts of the metropolis, the most remarkable are those of the SultÁn Hasan and of Ibn-Tooloon, or, as the name is commonly pronounced, Teyloon.

The great mosque of the SultÁn Hasan, which is situated near the citadel, and is the most lofty of the edifices of Cairo, was founded in the year of the Flight 757 (A.D. 1356). It is a very noble pile; but it has some irregularities which are displeasing to the eye; as, for instance, the disparity of its two mÁd’nehs. The great mad’neh is nearly three hundred feet in height, measured from the ground. At the right extremity of the northeast side of the mosque is a very fine lofty entrance-porch. From this, a zigzag passage conducts us to a square hypÆthral hall, or court, in the centre of which is a tank, and near this, a reservoir with spouts, for the performance of ablution; each crowned with a cupola. On each of the four sides of the court is a hall with an arched roof and open front. That opposite the entrance is the largest, and is the principal place of worship. Its arched roof is about seventy feet in width. It is constructed of brick and plastered (as are the other three arches), and numerous small glass lamps, and two lanterns of bronze, are suspended from it. The lower part of the end wall is lined with coloured marbles. Beyond it is a square saloon, over which is the great dome, and in the centre of this saloon is the tomb of the royal founder. Most of the decorations of this mosque are very elaborate and elegant, but the building, in many parts, needs repair.

The great mosque of Ibn-Tooloon (or, as it is more commonly called, GÁmË’ Teyloon), situated in the southern part of the metropolis, is a very interesting building. It was founded in the year of the Flight 263 (A.D. 876–7), and was the principal mosque of the city El-KatÁË, a city nearly a century older than El-KÁhireh. The space which it occupies is about 400 feet square. It is constructed of brick, covered with plaster, and consists of arcades surrounding a square court; in the centre of which is a tank for ablution, under a square stone building, surmounted by a dome. The arches in this mosque are slightly pointed: this is very remarkable, as it proves, as the mosque was constructed A.D. 876–7, and has never been rebuilt, that the Eastern pointed arch is more ancient than the Gothic. This remark I borrow from my brother’s manuscript notes. A great mÁd’neh, with winding stairs round its exterior, stands on the northwest side of the mosque; with which it is only connected by an arched gateway. The whole of this great mosque is in a sad state of decay; and not even kept decently clean, excepting where the mats are spread. It is the most ancient Arabian building, excepting the Nilometer of Er-RÓdah (which is about 12 years older), now existing in Egypt: for the mosque of ’Amr, though founded more than two centuries before, has often been rebuilt.

In the neighbourhood of the mosque above described is a large ruined castle or palace, called Kal’at el-Kebsh (or the Castle of the Ram), occupying, and partly surrounding, an extensive rocky eminence. It was built in the middle of the seventh century after the Flight (or the thirteenth of our era). Its interior is occupied by modern buildings.

The mosques of the seyyideh Zeyneb, the seyyideh Sekeeneh, and the seyyideh Nefeeseh (the first and second situated in the southern part of the metropolis, and the third in a small southern suburb without the gates) are highly venerated, but not very remarkable buildings. There are many other mosques in Cairo well worthy of examination; but those which I have mentioned are the most distinguished.

I have been surprised at my having visited the most sacred of the mosques of Cairo without exciting the smallest suspicion of my being a Christian. A few days ago a party of Englishmen were refused admission into the Hasaneyn. They were conducted by a janissary of the Pasha, and he was exceedingly enraged against the officers of the mosque. They seized him, however, and drew him into the mosque, and closing the doors and windows, detained him, shutting out his party; but the interpreter of the Englishmen, being a Muslim, obtained admission by a back door, and liberated the prisoner.

There are, in Cairo, many public buildings, besides the mosques, which attract attention. Among these are several Tekeeyehs, or convents for Darweeshes and others, mostly built by Turkish Pashas, for the benefit of their countrymen. Some of these are very handsome structures.

Many of the Sebeels (or public fountains) are also remarkable buildings. The general style of a large sebeel may be thus described. The principal part of the front is of a semicircular form, with three windows of brass grating. Within each window is a trough of water; and when any one would drink, he puts his hand through one of the lowest apertures of the grating, and dips in the trough a brass mug, which is chained to one of the bars. Above the windows is a wide coping of wood. Over this part of the building is a public school-room, with an open front, formed of pillars and arches; and at the top is another wide coping of wood. Some of these buildings are partly constructed of alternate courses of black and white marble.

HÓds, or watering-places for beasts of burden, are also very numerous in Cairo. The trough is of stone, and generally in an arched recess, over which is a public school-room.

There are, as my brother has remarked, about sixty or seventy HammÁms, or public baths, in Cairo. Some are exclusively for men, some only for women: others, for men in the morning, and for women in the afternoon. When the bath is appropriated to women, a piece of white cotton is hung over the door. The apartments are paved with marble, have fountains and tanks, and are surmounted by cupolas, pierced with small round holes for the admission of light.

The last of the buildings I shall mention are the Kahwehs, or coffee-shops, of which Cairo contains above a thousand. Only coffee is supplied at these; the persons who frequent them taking their own pipes and tobacco.