Four weddings and a funeral
In my last post, about harems, I mentioned the four weddings, announced in the winter of 1872, that Ismail hoped would turn away from tradition, towards Western-style, monogamous, marriages for the Khedival family. By doing this he no doubt hoped that the family would become more acceptable in Western opinion, and at this time Ismail was anxious to show the West how “enlightened” a ruler he was, particularly by removing the dangerous taint of slavery. (After all, that alone might have been sufficient as a casus belli for European governments looking for any justification to invade Egypt).As Ellen explained:
“Mohammed Ali [the founder of the dynasty] had the same kind of harem as the Sultan, consisting exclusively of slaves, and this custom had been continued by his successors, down to the Khedive. But the latter in mature age wished to adopt the European law of one wife, and direct succession from father to son... the second he succeeded in establishing by fixing the succession in the person of his eldest son, Mohammed Tewfik Pasha, and the first, by restricting each of his sons to one wife of equal rank with himself.”
In the event, however, it was all perhaps too late. Only three years later, from 1875 onwards, as soon as Ismail seemed unlikely to be able to repay Egypt’s debt to Western banks, the European powers increasingly exercised political power in Egypt, and in 1879 they deposed Ismail.
Still, the threatening international situation outside the harem walls was not mentioned by Ellen in her book. She was surely aware of it, as she had many friends in the Western expatriate community, and indeed was to suffer from Ismail’s downfall in her own way, by losing her job. However, no doubt like most people she simply hoped for the best, and got on with everyday life.
Besides, she accepted things how they were far more than many other English governesses at the time; perhaps because she may not have been brought up in England.
She did not, on the whole, tend to see herself “as representing a higher civilisation, whose ways English governesses were employed to impart”. (Ruth Brandon, Other peoples’ daughters: the life and times of the governess, Wiedenfeld & Nicholson, 2008). And that not only seems to have made life in Egypt easier for her, but may also have made her more acceptable to Ismail, Zeynab, and the Second Princess, who were, after all, happy to retain her.
And besides, for the moment, there were four weddings to look forward to!
At this point in history, no-one seems to have questioned Ismail’s right to choose his son’s wives himself. Yet that too was on the point of change. As F. Robert Hunter, in his book Egypt under the Khedives, 1805-1879 (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1984) says: “never again would their [i.e. the Khedives’] power be so absolute or despotic as it had been in the 1805-1879 period.”
So once again, we find that Ellen witnessed the very end of traditional Ottoman rule in Egypt. Nothing would ever quite be the same again, and in the 1890s, when she turned to her old travel-journal to write her book, she can only have been aware of just how much had changed, especially as she seems to have kept in touch with private events in the Khedival family.
Ismail had no difficulty finding suitable brides. “Among the descendants of Mohammed Ali [i.e. those of equal rank to the princes] there were many to choose from,” Ellen wrote. “To Tewfik Pasha, the eldest son, was given Amina Hanem… the great-great-granddaughter of Mohammed Ali. To Hussein Pasha, the second son, was given Ain-el-Heiât, the… great-granddaughter of Mohammed Ali. To Hassan Pasha, third son of the Khédive, was given Khadija Hanem, the granddaughter of Mohammed Ali… the Khédive’s second daughter, Fatma Hanem, was to be married to Tousson Pasha, son of the late Viceroy, Saïd Pasha, and grandson of Mohammed Ali.”
Above:Prince Tewfik, the heir; later Khedive
Below: Princess Amina (Emina), his wife
Below: Princess Amina (Emina), his wife
Above: Princess Fatima
Below, Princess Ain-el-Heiat
Below, Princess Ain-el-Heiat
The marriages were to be celebrated lavishly. “We were told that the festivities in honour of each marriage were to last a week, so that a whole month would be devoted to fêtes and rejoicings.”
Meanwhile, Ellen still found time to appreciate Egypt’s historical monuments. She visited Old Cairo; the ancient mosque of Amrou, which she believed to be the oldest in Egypt, if not in an Islamic country; and once again to see the preparations for the departure of the Mahmal procession to Mecca.
She deplored the lack of maintenance to some monuments, such as the Mosque of Sultan Hassan, which she described as “one of the handsomest in Cairo”, noting that “it is falling into decay, as no on ever seems to think of repairing these monuments of past ages. There is a beautiful marble pavement in mosaic, but it is a good deal injured.” Plainly Ellen was a conservationist before her time!
The Mosques of Sultan Hassan (above), and Amr(ou) (beneath) in the 19th century
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She also went to see the site of the ancient city of Heliopolis, but was disappointed: “no vestige remains of the ancient city except the obelisk, which is on such low ground that it is not visible until you are close upon it. Like Memphis, [i.e. the ancient capital of Egypt] its ruins have been appropriated to construct new edifices; and none of the mighty remains are to be seen which still exists in Upper Egypt.”
(The ancient city of Heliopolis, not to be confused with a modern suburb of Cairo with that name, was one of the most important religious centres in Ancient Egypt, particularly in solar worship. It was supposedly the site of a famous miracle in which the God Horus fed several thousand people with only seven loaves; this miracle was later appropriated by Christianity.
It was first settled in Predynastic times, and was one of the major cities of Egypt for many centuries, but declined during the mediaeval era due to the growth of Cairo, to the north-west. Ellen was correct in stating that much of its remains were used for later building).
Ellen’s colleague, Mr. Mitchell, wished to see the actual departure of the Mahmal procession. He had tried twice before, but had failed, “as it is very difficult to find out when it will be). Mr. Mitchell “did not go very near, as he saw many unfriendly looks cast at him. A few years ago, if a European had thus ventured among them, he would have been pelted at the very least; but now it is easier to see such things.” Mr. Mitchell later made the most of his experience, writing an article about it for the Times newspaper, titled “Pilgrims to Mecca”, which was published on 7 December 1876.
On 25 December, a large funeral procession passed along the Chourbrah road, and was recorded by Ellen: “First came a number of Arabs on foot, and four camels laden with large bags filled with provisions. A man rode on each of the camels behind the bags, and distributed from them oranges, dates, and bread to the multitude of followers. This is always customary, as they have a long way to walk, and require food to support them. After the camels came a number of soldiers; and lastly the bier, with several women wailing and making a dismal noise; [presumably ululating] then immediately behind the bier were the chief mourners, and a crowd of Arabs followed the procession.”
Unhappily, the funeral turned out to be that of “the grandson of Mohammed Ali, and the half-brother of the young lady about to be married to Hassan Pasha.”
Ellen a proto-anthropologist?
It is the careful recording of such details as this that help make Ellen’s book so valuable as a historical document.
And as Ruth Brandon says in her book Other people's daughters: the life and times of the governess [op.cit.]:
After all, Ellen was not the only English governess who had obtained a job with ruling family and who later published their memoirs; others included Anna Leonowens, on whose volumes of memoirs a best-selling book, Anna and the King of Siam, by Margaret Landon, and later a famous movie, The King and I were based, and Miss Maria Graham, who wrote about her experiences as governess to the Emperor of Brazil. But neither Anna or Maria observed their surroundings in such detail as Ellen. Had she been born later, indeed, it is possible that she might, like Winifred, have studied anthropology; she seems to not only have had a genuine interest in the society that she found herself in, but she had an unusual talent for noticing, and recording the details that make our picture of that society so much fuller.
Ellen starts to feel like a railway-porter
A great inconvenience for the educational staff at this time was that they had to leave their house in Choubrah to stay in the New Hotel, Cairo, to make way for a group of “distinguished visitors from Constantinople, who were expected shortly, and would be present at the approaching weddings”. They not only had to move their personal possessions, but “nothing was to be left behind… the probability was that all the furniture we had used would be turned out of the house… if it was useful it would be appropriated; if not, it would be thrown away.”
The “distinguished visitors” later turned out to be “fourteen Turks, and… one was a great personage, as he ate alone. He must have been of the old school of Turks, as none of the Khédive’s family ever eat alone.”
It was, in effect, moving house for them. “This was a great trouble to us. Mrs. Freeland had tables covered with all sorts of little ornaments, and I had quantities of books, which were then well arranged in an excellent book-case, and always accessible, and were now to be packed up in boxes, which renders them practically useless.”
I can certainly sympathise with Ellen there, having once or twice had to move my own books!
Unsurprisingly, after having packed up all her belongings, Ellen “began to realise something of what a railway porter may experience after a hard day’s work.”
Although the rooms at the New Hotel were good, they were dark, and cold. The hotel was “full of draughts, and the sun never penetrated into the rooms, owing to the great balcony which surrounded both the first and second storeys on three sides of the building.”
The New Hotel, Cairo, in the 19th Century
“There was one great advantage, however”, Ellen went on, always ready to make the best of a situation. “And that was the promenade at the top of the house, from whence you had an extensive view for miles around, and also saw everything that passed in the road between the hotel and the Ezbekeah Gardens.”
She certainly loved the view. “As my windows faced the east, I always saw the sun rise over the Mokattam Hills. On the 12th of January [1873] it rose at five minutes past seven, and I watched it set (from the top of the hotel) a little to the west of the Pyramids of Gizeh at a quarter past five.”
Certainly sunsets over Gizeh can be spectacular during the winter months, and you can also see what Ellen saw, by taking a look at http://www.pyramidcam.com/
Like Ellen, I’m sure you’ll find the sunsets, framed by the Pyramids, can be really beautiful to watch.
The grooms arrive - unsuspectingly!
Meanwhile, back at the harem, it was not surprising that “nothing was talked of but the approaching weddings. Prince Hassan was daily expected from England, and a suprise awaited him.” Indeed, he was to have a surprise, that was certainly no exaggeration. He had been told that: “he was to go round the world, as the Duke of Edinburgh had done, and when he arrived in Egypt, believing he was about to make the grand tour, he was informed that he was to be married!” Presumably the deception was merely a practical joke.
(The Duke of Edinburgh referred to was Alfred, “Affie”, 1844-1900, the second son of Queen Victoria. In 1867 he had undertaken a world tour, during which he came close to being assassinated).
Hassan arrived with his younger half-brother, Mahmoud. Mahmoud, it seems, whilst studying in England had forgotten how to speak Turkish, but found “to his great joy that Kopsès could speak English”, and so “ran around with her.” (Not surprisingly; a raving beauty such as Kopsès would have undoubtedly had more attractions to a young man than simply a command of English!)
Indeed, it was no doubt due to the charms of some of the young women in the harem that “it was quite an innovation” that Hassan and Mahmoud had been invited there at all. “‘It is a jolly place’, he [Mahmoud] told Kopsès, ‘and they let me run around as I like, but I wish you were there to talk with me.’” But of course!
Ellen was also pleased, of course, that under her instruction Princess Zeynab had learned English, and so “should see and talk to her brothers.”
Even when in Egypt, Hassan seems to have been kept in the dark about his intended bride. Ellen explained that it was, however, inevitable “unless their customs are entirely changed, and the seclusion of women abolished.” Indeed, he only seems to have found out by chance who he was to be married to. Princess Zeynab had a photograph album containing portraits of the “ladies of the harem.” Whilst showing her brother this book, “she put her hand down on one [photo] and tried to turn over the page.” (Behaviour that, unless deliberately intended to give Hassan a hint, suggests that she was still somewhat immature?) In this way, evidently, Hassan found out who he was to marry.
Oh, what a picture...
Relating to this, Ellen reveals another glimpse of the times. “Photography was quite a mania all the time I was in Egypt”, she wrote “and as the princesses could not be taken by any of the chief photographers of the town, women went into the harem to exercise the art. Some the photographs thus taken were passable, but none first rate.” (Indeed, looking carefully at the photo of Kopsès, it seems that she is actually trying not to start laughing!)
Photographs during the 1870s were commonly done on plates prepared by one or another of the various “collodion processes” – wet, dry, and collodion emulsion (although emulsion did not come into use until later in the decade). It would have presented considerable difficulties when photographing the “ladies of the harem”, as wet collodion plates had to be used almost as soon as they were coated. This would give a photographer no more than about 10 minutes to coat the plate, take the photo, and develop the plate.To get round this problem, “dry collodion” plates were in use, which did not have to be used and developed immediately after coating. (They involved a coating that prevented the collodion from drying). But dry collodion plates were variable in quality, and also needed a very long exposure time. (Kopsès had probably been standing absolutely still, without blinking, for several minutes).
A dry plate might have been prepared outside the harem, and brought in by the woman photographer, but she would have had to have needed a dark-room somewhere close by, inside the harem, for wet plates. Considering the huge amount of equipment that she would have needed to arrange and use, it was hardly surprising that, in Ellen’s opinion, “they were not skilful, and did not produce good likenesses.”
So, when Princess Zeynab reached the age of 13, and wished to be photographed again, as a young woman, a way of allowing a more skilled photographer to do the job had to be found. Ellen herself had her photo taken by the famous Abdullah brothers, in Constantinople, active from ca. 1870 to 1899, court photographers to the Sultan. The firm later also had studios in Cairo and Alexandria. (How wonderful if one of the photos of her has survived, somewhere!) But Zeynab had to engage an Egyptian photographer, as “he, being an Egyptian subject, could not possibly sell or show the portraits to any other persons”, something which “would violate all ideas of oriental propriety.”
But: “the man could not, however, be admitted to the harem; the business was to go on in the garden, and it was rather difficult to find a place not too sunny or too windy. The only shade was made by the walls, as there were no trees, and that was a shade which varied each half-hour, so that there was a continual shifting of the apparatus. Several eunuchs stood by, but they gave no assistance whatever. The poor man had to do everything himself…”
Not only Zeynab, but all the other women in the palace were also photographed on this occasion; due to the need to accommodate the changes in light and shadow, by moving the props and equipment around the garden, the work took two entire days.
The results, unfortunately, were not a success (although in fact Zeynab does appear to have had her photo taken at around this time). But as Ellen says: “a first-rate European would hardly have succeeded under such circumstances. No-one gave him the slightest help, and he was not allowed to have an assistant. Every time that the changing light or wind… necessitated a move, there was not only his own apparatus to shift, but a complete paraphernalia around the Princess – arm-chairs, table, cushions, flower-stands, &c., besides a great canvas screen, which had to be held up every now and then.” And of course, he would have had to coat a fresh plate on each occasion, and possibly develop it immediately afterwards, too. In the Egyptian sun, he might have had less than 10 minutes to do this, before the plate dried.
One of the more successful photos of Princess Zeynab evidently taken at around this time
It was not surprising that “the proofs came, and were utter failures. “Some of us looked like dwarfs, others like giantesses. The perspective was at fault in all,- some hands came out as clubs, and plump figures swelled into something Gampish. [i.e. resembling the obese character Sarah Gamp in Dicken’s novel Martin Chuzzlewit (1843-44)] The Princess tore her own likeness into the smallest fragments, but laughed heartily at the caricatures of her friends.”
Ellen had also had her “likeness” taken on this occasion, with the others, but it turned out to be no better than theirs. “One of the slaves, who always expressed a great regard for me, begged the Princess to give her my photograph… and some time after the girl showed it to me as a triumph of art. I got possession of it by ruse, destroyed the atrocious thing, and presented her instead with a very good likeness which had been taken by Abdullah on my last visit to Constantinople”.
To be continued...
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