ALEXANDRIA:
A History and a Guide.

If a guy takes a pilgrimage around Alexandria in the morning, God will give him a golden crown adorned with pearls, scented with musk and camphor, and shining from the East to the West.

To any vision, there must be an eye suited to what is being observed.

This book has two sections: a History and a Guide.

The “History” tries to showcase the activities of Alexandria over its 2,250 years of existence, kind of like a pageant. It starts with the legendary figure of Alexander the Great and looks at the Ptolemaic dynasty, especially the story of the last ruler, Cleopatra. Then it covers Ptolemaic literature and science, wrapping up this remarkable era, which I’ve labeled “Greco-Egyptian.” The second era, called “Christian,” begins with Roman rule and follows the journey of Christianity, first as a persecuted religion and later as a persecutor itself. Everything changes in 641 when Patriarch Cyrus betrays Alexandria to the Arabs. Next is an interlude—“The Spiritual City”—which reflects on Alexandrian philosophy and religion, both Pagan and Christian. I thought it was better to separate these topics because they disrupt the main historical flow, and many readers might not be interested in them. History continues in the “Arab Period,” which, despite lasting over 1,000 years—from Amr to Napoleon—is of little significance. With Napoleon, we enter the “Modern Period,” highlighted by the construction of the city we see today, led by Mohammed Ali. The pageant wraps up, as best as it can, with events from 1882 and some thoughts on potential future developments for the city.

The “History” is divided into short sections, and at the end of each section are references to the second part—the “Guide.” The main usefulness of the book relies on these references, so readers are encouraged to pay close attention to them: they may help connect the present with the past. For example, if he has read in the History iiabout the Pharos, at the end of the section he will find references to Fort Kait Bey where the Pharos once stood, to Abousir where there's a miniature replica of it, and to the Coin Room in the Museum, where it appears on the coins of Domitian and Hadrian. Or if the tragic fate of Hypatia has affected him: the end will have references to the Caesareum, where Hypatia was killed, and to the Wady Natrun, where the monks who murdered her usually lived. Or the British victories of 1801: he will be directed to the area our troops marched through, to the Abercrombie Monument at Sidi Gaber, and to a gravestone in the courtyard of the Greek Patriarchate. The “sights” of Alexandria aren't interesting on their own, but they become captivating when we view them through the lens of history, which is what I aimed to achieve with the dual structure of History and Guide.

The “Guide” doesn’t need an introduction. It’s written from a practical perspective and is meant to be used right where you are. It comes with maps and plans. The city is divided into sections, with every visitor starting from the Square. Other sections cover the surroundings and the countryside up to Rosetta in the east and Abousir in the west. When transliterating Arabic names, I’ve opted for the French system, as there are three English systems, each supported by a different government department, so the French approach seems the safest. If I haven’t strictly adhered to it, I’m simply following, albeit from a distance, the example set by the Alexandria Municipality. Occasionally, some history has made its way into the Guide—especially regarding Aboukir, which, while linked to Alexandria, has its own distinct story.

There isn't, as far as I know, any in-depth study on Alexandria, and although this small book doesn't claim to present original research, it has gathered a lot of information that was previously scattered. The following works, among others, have been referenced; those marked with an asterisk are published locally.

(A). History:—

Ptolemaic Period:—Bouché-Leclercq, History of the Lagides. An academic and enjoyable read. 4 vols.

Ptolemaic Literature:—A. Couat, Alexandrine Poetry; well written. Theocritus, translated by A. Lang.

Christian Period:—No satisfactory work. S. Sharpe, History of Egypt until the Arab Conquest, vol. 2 may be consulted; also Gibbon, chs. 21 and 47. Mrs. Butcher, The Story of the Church in Egypt is full of information, but uncritical and diffuse.

Arab Conquest:—A. J. Butler, The Arab Conquest of Egypt. An outstanding monograph, skillfully written and effectively reconstructing the event.

Jewish Thought:—E. Herriot, Philon the Jew.

Neo-Platonism:—Various works. There's a clear introduction to Plotinus in S. McKenna, Translation of the Enneads, vol. 1; this excellent translation is still ongoing. Porphyry’s Letter to Marcella (translated by A. Gardner) is also noteworthy.

Christian Theology:—See under “Christian period.” The Fathers can be read in the Ante-Nicene Christian Library.

Arab period:—Too unclear to have a history.

Napoleonic Wars:—Mahan, Influence of Sea Power upon the French Revolution, chs. 9 and 10. R. T. ivWilson, History of the British Expedition to Egypt. See also below, under Aboukir.

General Modern History:—D. A. Cameron, Egypt in the Nineteenth Century. A well-written book by the late Consul General in Alexandria; it provides a solid overview of Mohammed Ali. The works of Lord Cromer, W. S. Blunt, and Sir V. Chirol are also valuable.

Events of 1882:—C. Royle, The Egyptian Campaigns.

One or two novels and plays related to history can be mentioned here. The story of Cleopatra has inspired two great tragedies, Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra and Dryden’s All for Love; excerpts from these can be found on p. 214. Dryden’s masterpiece deserves more recognition; it's incredibly moving, well-structured, and features some amazing scenes. A novel by Pierre Louÿs, Aphrodite, also explores this period, but in a more romanticized Parisian style.—Anatole France’s Thais depicts life in the 4th century A.D.; the details are both vivid and precise, creating a remarkable work of art.—For the early 5th century, there’s Charles Kingsley’s Hypatia, an exciting tale about the final clash between Paganism and Christianity; Kingsley is always engaging, but his straightforward mindset struggled to grasp the complexity of Alexandria.—Two solid novels by Marmaduke Pickthall, Said the Fisherman and Children of the Nile, touch on events from the modern era.

(B). Guide.:—

*E. Breccia, Alexandria to Egypt. In French: English translation coming soon. Focuses primarily on Classical Antiquities. There are two sections—the first covers the remains in the city and surrounding area, while the second focuses on the Greco-Roman Museum, where Professor Breccia is the esteemed Curator. I am very grateful for this excellent scholarly book, especially for the following sections:—Greco-Roman Museum, Catacombs of Anfouchi and Kom es Chogafa, Serapeum, Abousir.

vPrehistoric Harbour:—*E. Jondet, The Sunken Ports of the Ancient Isle of Pharos. A detailed study by the discoverer. Stunning Maps.

Pharos and Fort Kait Bey:—H. Thiersch, Pharos, Antike, Islam Und Occident. A standard monograph, but showing both the flaws and strengths of German scholarship.

Canopus and Aboukir:—*J. Faivre, Canopus, Menouthis, Aboukir. Published in French and English. *R. D. Downes, A History of Canopus. These excellent pamphlets complement each other, with the first focused on the literary evidence and the second on the typography.

Rosetta:—*Max Herz Bey, The Mosques of Rosetta (various articles in the Meeting Minutes of the Committee for the Conservation of Arab Monuments).

St. Menas:—*C. M. Kaufmann, The Discovery of the Menas Sanctuaries. By the Excavator.

Natrun Monasteries:—A. J. Butler, Ancient Coptic Churches.

Many friends have also helped me, and I especially want to thank the following: Mr. George Antonius for his assistance with the interesting but lesser-known Alexandria Mosques; Mr. M. S. Briggs for his help in the Rosetta section; Dr. A. J. Butler for allowing me to reproduce two plans of the Natrun Churches; Mr. C. P. Cavafy for permitting the publication of one of his poems, and Mr. G. Valassopoulo for translating it; the Rev. R. D. Downes for his help at Aboukir; Mr. R. A. Furness for his translations of verses by Callimachus and other Greek poets; M. E. Jondet, Director of Ports and Lights, for taking me to see his fascinating discovery, the Prehistoric Harbour, and for letting me use his unrivaled collection of Maps and Views, two of which I have reproduced; and above all, Mr. G. H. Ludolf, to whose suggestion this book is dedicated, and without whose help it would never have been completed. I will always remember the kindness I received in Alexandria and definitely do not agree with the judgment of my predecessor, the poet Gelal ed Din ben Mokram, who grotesquely claims that:—

Circumstances beyond my control have delayed the release of the book, but with the support of friends, I have done my best to update the “Guide” as much as I can.

The situation in Alexandria is quite intriguing. To understand it, we need to look back several thousand years.

A long time ago, before civilization developed in Egypt and before the Nile delta was created, the entire area down to Cairo was covered by the sea. The edges of this sea formed a limestone desert. Generally, the coastline was smooth, but at the north-west corner, there was an unusual spur that extended out from the main landmass. It was only about a mile wide but stretched for many miles. Its base is close to what is now Bahig. Alexandria is located halfway down it, and its tip is the Aboukir headland. On either side of it, there used to be deep saltwater.

Centuries went by, and the Nile, flowing out from its source above Cairo, continued to carry the soils of Upper Egypt downstream, depositing them as soon as its current slowed. In the north-west corner, they were blocked by a ridge and began to build up against it. This area provided protection not only from the open sea but also from the prevailing winds. Fertile land emerged; the vast shallow lake of Mariout was created; and the Nile, unable to flow through the limestone barrier, curved around the headland of Aboukir and reached the open sea through what was known historically as the “Canopic” Mouth.

This explains one characteristic of Alexandrian scenery—the long narrow ridge bordered on the north by the sea and on the south by a lake and flat fields. But it doesn't explain why Alexandria has a harbor.

To the north of the spur, and pretty much parallel to it, there's a second limestone range. It's much shorter than the spur and much lower, often sitting below the 6surface of the sea as reefs. It might seem unimportant. But without it, there wouldn’t be a harbor (and therefore no town), because it breaks the force of the waves. Starting at Agame, it stretches out as a series of rocks across the entrance of the modern harbor. Then it reemerges to form the hammer-headed promontory of Ras-el-Tin, disappears into another series of rocks that close off the entrance of the Eastern Harbour, and reappears at the promontory of Silsileh, before finally reconnecting with the big spur.

Such are the main features of the situation: a limestone ridge, with harbors on one side and alluvial land on the other. It's a unique location in Egypt, and the people of Alexandria have never really been truly Egyptian.

Who was the first to settle on this amazing stretch of coast? It looks like there were three early centers.

(i). Homer (Odyssey, Book iv) says:—

“There’s an island in the rough sea, called Pharos, located off the coast of Egypt. It has a harbor with good anchorage, and that’s why they set sail after getting water.”

Homer’s island is now the Ras-el-Tin promontory; the channel in between has filled in. There are no signs of any early settlements on its land, but underwater to the north and west, the remains of a prehistoric harbor have been discovered. Homer recounts how Menelaus was stranded on Pharos while returning from Troy and couldn’t leave until he captured Proteus, the god of the island, and got a favorable wind. A similar story has been found in an ancient Egyptian papyrus, where the King is referred to as “Prouti” or “Pharaoh.” “Prouti” is likely the original of Homer’s “Proteus,” and “Pharaoh” is the source for his “Pharos.” It’s notable that our first view of the coast comes from the perspective of a Greek sailor.

(ii). But our historical survey must start with Rhakotis. Rhakotis was a small Egyptian town built on the hill where “Pompey’s Pillar” stands now, and it existed as far back as 1,300 B.C., as statues from that time have been discovered here. The people were coast guards and goat herders. Their main god was Osiris. Rhakotis was never significant by itself. But it matters as part of the great Greek city that was built around it. It was a tiny piece of Egypt. Compare it to the Arab villages and slums that have been integrated into the fabric of the modern city—like Mazarita or Kom-el-Dik. Rhakotis was like one of these. The local and traditional community naturally gathered around it, and it became the site for Alexandria’s major religious effort—the cult of Serapis.

(iii). At the end of the limestone ridge, where the Nile used to flow into the sea, there was another early settlement. It is also mentioned in Greek mythology. In historical times, it was called Canopus.

Few cities have made such a magnificent entry into history as Alexandria. It was founded by Alexander the Great.

When he arrived here, he was only twenty-five years old. His career needs to be outlined. He was Macedonian and had started by destroying the city-civilization of ancient Greece. But he didn’t hate the Greeks; in fact, he admired them greatly and wanted to be treated like one of them. His next move was to lead a campaign against Greece's traditional enemy, Persia, and to defeat them in two massive battles—one at the Dardanelles and one in Asia Minor. As soon as he conquered Syria, Egypt fell into his hands willingly, as she also hated the Persians. He went to Memphis (near modern Cairo). Then he traveled down the Nile to the coast and instructed his architect Dinocrates to build a magnificent Greek city around the nucleus of Rhakotis. This wasn’t just idealism on his part; rather, idealism was effectively combined with practicality. He needed a capital for his new Egyptian kingdom, and to connect it with Macedonia, that capital had to be on the coast. This was the perfect location—a great harbor, ideal climate, fresh water, limestone quarries, and easy access to the Nile. Here, he aimed to preserve all that was best in Hellenism and create a metropolis for a greater Greece that would consist not of city-states but of kingdoms, including the entire inhabited world.

Alexandria was established.

After giving his orders, the young man rushed off. He didn't see a single building go up. His next focus was a visit to the temple of Ammon in the Siwan Oasis, where the priest greeted him like a god, and from that point on, his Greek inclinations faded. He became more of an Oriental, almost a cosmopolitan, and even though he fought Persia again, it was with a different mindset. Now, he wanted to bring harmony to the world instead of just spreading Greek culture, and he likely viewed Alexandria as a product of his younger self. But ultimately, he was destined to return. Eight years later, after conquering Persia, he died, and his body, after some twists of fate, was brought to Memphis for burial. The High Priest refused to accept it there. “Don’t bury him here,” he exclaimed, “but in the city he built at Rhakotis, because wherever his body lies, the city will be restless, troubled by wars and conflicts.” So he traveled down the Nile again, wrapped in gold and placed in a glass coffin, and he was buried at the heart of Alexandria, by her major crossroads, to become her civic hero and protective deity.

Before breaking down Alexander’s plan, we need to keep in mind three differences in the way the soil was structured in his time.

(i). As already mentioned, Ras-el-Tin was an island at that time. He considered building here but decided against it because the space was too limited. A shrine to his deceased friend Hephaestion stood here, and that was it.

(ii). Lake Mariout was much deeper then than it is now, and it was directly connected to the Nile. Because of this, it was almost as significant a waterway as the sea, and having a lake harbor was a key part of the plan.

10(iii). At that time, there was a waterway connecting the Mediterranean and the Red Sea. The ancient Egyptians had dug a canal from the Nile at Memphis down to the salt lakes that start near modern Ismailia. Therefore, Alexandria was like Port Said today; a maritime gateway to India and the farther East.

The city was elongated, stretching between the lake and the sea; it was designed with strictly straight lines. Its main street (the "Canopic") still partially exists as the Rosette Street. It ran almost directly east and west—a poor orientation since it was shielded from the cool north wind, which is the true guardian of Alexandria. However, due to the location, nothing else could be arranged. To the west, it ended at the sea; to the east, it extended to Canopus (Aboukir). It served as the natural route along the limestone ridge and likely existed long before Alexander arrived.

Crossing Canopic Street and following the path of what is now Nebi Daniel Street, you would find the second main street, the street of the Soma. It began at the Lake Harbour and extended northward toward the sea. At the intersection with Canopic Street stood the Soma, or the burial site of Alexander—near what is now the Mosque. Running parallel to these two streets were others, dividing the city into blocks that had an American regularity. It might not have looked picturesque, but the Greeks weren’t aiming for that. They preferred their cities to be laid out evenly—Rhodes and Halicarnassus had recently been designed along the same lines—and the only natural element they wanted to utilize was the sea. The blocks were labeled according to the letters of the Greek alphabet.

The stunning seaside was put to great use. Only one feature will be mentioned here: the Heptastadion, which was seven stades long and built to connect the island of Pharos to the mainland. It had two main purposes: it increased the city’s area and weakened the currents, creating a double harbor—the Great Harbour to the east and the Eunostos (“Safe Return”) to the west. During the Arab period, the Heptastadion became silted up and turned into the land bridge that leads to Ras-el-Tin. 11

The path of the walls is unclear. Maybe the eastern section ran from the Silsileh promontory to the lake, and the western part extended from modern Gabbari to the lake. Their foundations were marked by a typical omen. There wasn't enough chalk to outline the shapes, so they had to use meal instead, and a bunch of birds flew out of the lake and devoured it all. The Greeks interpreted the omen in a way that made sense, while for the Egyptians, it could have symbolized the arrival of a hungry outsider. We don't know what replaced the meal, but somehow the walls were built and regularly had towers added to them.

When Alexander died, his empire was split among his generals, who initially ruled in the name of his half-brother or his son, but quickly declared themselves independent kings. Egypt went to the most capable and sensible of these generals, a Macedonian named Ptolemy. Ptolemy was no grand dreamer.

14He didn’t want to Hellenize the world or make it all fit together. But he wasn’t a cynic either. He valued both intellectual and physical activity. He was there when Alexandria was founded and clearly thought it would be a good fit for him. So, settling in the unfinished city, he started to enhance it with architecture, scholarship, and music. Competing generals, especially in Asia Minor and Macedonia, took up a lot of his attention. Right at the start of his reign, he got caught up in a strange conflict over the possession of Alexander's body, which he had taken while it was being transported from Persia to the Oasis of Ammon. Ptolemy claimed the body along with much more. Before he died, he took on the titles of King and Soter (savior) and expanded his territory to include Cyrene, Palestine, Cyprus, and parts of the Asia Minor coast. Alexandria became the capital and geographic center of this extensive territory. Now, as then, it was more a part of the Mediterranean than of Egypt itself, and the Ptolemies understood this. In Egypt, they played the role of Pharaohs and built grand, old-fashioned temples like Edfu and Kom Ombo. But in Alexandria, they embraced a Hellenistic identity.

The second Ptolemy, Philadelphus (Friend of his Sister), was a more showy individual than his father. He is well-known because of the praises sung by the poets he supported and the Jews he invited, but his personal accomplishments were minimal. In fact, the main event of his reign was more about his personal life than military matters—in 277, he married his sister Arsinoe. This was just as shocking to Greek sensibilities as it is to Christian ones, but in Egypt, he had a precedent in the god Osiris, who married his sister Isis, and he defended the marriage on the highest religious grounds. He and Arsinoe were deified as the “Adelphian Gods,” with the pure blood of their divine father flowing through them, and their example was imitated, when possible, by their successors. It was an extreme sense of pride in their lineage. Today's royals, fearing the dilution of their bloodline, marry first cousins; the Ptolemies, more direct, attempted to procreate within even tighter circles. In body and spirit, the dynasty claimed to be separate from ordinary people, presenting themselves as successive manifestations of the Deity in pairs of male and female. Arsinoe, to return to reality, was a controlling and malevolent woman. She was seven years older than her brother, and when they married, he already had a wife, whom she forced out of Alexandria through her scheming. Nevertheless, he was fond of her, and when she died, suffering from indigestion, he was so heartbroken that he never remarried.

The final years of his reign were spent between his mistresses and battling gout. During a break from the pain, he looked out of his palace window on a public holiday and saw the locals having a picnic on the sand, just like they do today at the feast of Shem-el-Nessem. They were ordinary and they were happy. “Why can’t I be like them?” the old king sighed, and he started to cry. His reign had been impressive rather than beautiful and had brought little to Alexandrian civilization aside from a somewhat ambiguous mystic marriage. He was capable of giving support and patronage. But, unlike Alexander and his father, he wasn’t able to create. He finished what they had started and took the credit for it.

Ptolemy Euergetes (Well-doer) was the son of Philadelphus and his first wife. He was much like his grandfather. He was a smart and successful soldier who had a passion for science. By marrying his cousin Berenice, he secured Cyrene, which had fallen out of control—Berenice was the most highly praised of all the Ptolemaic Queens, although we know nothing about her character. During their reign, Egypt's power and the grandeur of Alexandria reached their peak. Now it's time to look at that grandeur. A hundred years have passed since Alexander laid the foundations. What has been built on them?

The following were the most significant buildings in the Ptolemaic city.

The Lighthouse.

The Egyptian coast, mostly made up of alluvial land, is hard to spot from the sea. So, it was crucial to mark the location of the new city with a prominent monument. It was also important to create a guide for sailors navigating the limestone reefs along the shore. For these reasons, the Ptolemies constructed a lighthouse over four hundred feet tall at the eastern end of Pharos Island (now Fort Kait Bey). Full details are provided later (p. 132); for now, it's enough to mention that the Pharos, as it was called, was the greatest practical achievement of the Alexandrian intellect and represented the mathematical studies conducted in the Mouseion; Sostratus, its architect, lived during the same time as Eratosthenes and Euclid.

A fortress and a beacon, the Pharos was central to the city’s naval defenses. It towered over both harbors, keeping a close watch on the more important one—the Eastern, which housed the Royal fleet. Here, the promontory of the Palace extended towards it. To the west, it could signal across the other harbor to the Chersonese (now Fort Agame). Further west, the system continued with a long line of watchtowers and beacons that dotted the North African coast, linking Egypt to its daughter kingdom of Cyrene. One of these towers (the one at Abousir) still stands and gives a glimpse of what the Pharos must have been like.

17(ii). The Palace.

We can identify a specific point in the palace, or rather the palace system: it certainly covered the Promontory of Silsileh, which was larger and wider than it is today. But no one knows how far the buildings extended inland or along the shore, nor what the architecture looked like. Each Ptolemy made additions, and together they created a distinct area, somewhat like the Imperial City in Beijing. Since Egypt was an autocracy, the palace served as both the government headquarters and the royal residence; clerks had their offices there. There was a palace harbor (to the left of Silsileh) and an Island Palace or Kiosk called Antirrhodus, which rivaled the beauty of Rhodes; Antirrhodus was located in the Eastern Harbor, and rocks, now submerged beneath the sea, have been linked to it.

Inland, the Palace was linked to another major system—the Mouseion. On its seaward side, it extended with breakwaters towards the Pharos.

(iii). The Mouseion.

The Mouseion at Alexandria was the major intellectual accomplishment of the dynasty. It not only shaped the literature and science of its time but also left a lasting impact on thought. Its buildings have all vanished, and the exact location is uncertain; it may have had a front facing the Soma, west of the current Rue Nebi Daniel. Within its expansive grounds were lecture halls, laboratories, observatories, a library, a dining hall, a park, and a zoo.

It was founded by Ptolemy Soter, who called upon a follower of Aristotle, Demetrius Phaleras, and instructed him to set up an institution similar to the Athenian Mouseion—a philosophical establishment that housed Aristotle's library. However, the Alexandrian Mouseion quickly strayed far from its original model. For one, it was much wealthier and larger; the funds were managed by a priest appointed by the King. It also functioned as a court institution, under palace control, experiencing both the benefits and drawbacks of royal support. In some ways, it was like a modern university, but the scholars, scientists, and writers it supported were not required to teach; they only needed to focus on their studies for the greater glory of the Ptolemies.

The most famous part of this vast institution was the Library—often referred to as the “Mother” library to set it apart from a later and even larger collection. It had 500,000 books and a catalog that took up 120. The position of “Librarian” was extremely significant, and the person in that role was the top official in the Mouseion.

The actual literary and scientific output of the Mouseion will be discussed elsewhere (p. 28).

(iv). The Serapis Temple.

The belief that one religion is false while another is true is primarily a Christian idea and wasn’t something the Egyptians and Greeks living in Alexandria thought about. Each person worshipped their own gods, just as they spoke their own languages, but they never considered that their neighbor's gods didn’t exist, and they were open to the idea that those gods could just be their own gods with different names. The Greeks, in particular, embraced this perspective and had already linked Osiris, the god of the afterlife, with their Dionysus, the god of mysteries and wine. So when Ptolemy Soter decided to create a god for his new city, he was simply tapping into this tendency, providing a local home, name, and statue for beliefs that were already present.

Osiris was the main figure. He was already worshipped on the hill of Rhakotis and was the most celebrated of the Egyptian gods. Alongside him was the bull god Apis from Memphis, whose worship had recently been revived, and from their names, the compound "Serapis" was created. While the origins and title of this new god were Egyptian, his appearance and characteristics were Greek. His statue—attributed to the Greek sculptor Bryaxis—depicted him seated in Greek robes on a classic throne. His features resembled a bearded Zeus, but were softer and more kind; in fact, he looked more like Aesculapius, the god of Healing, to whom people naturally turned in more civilized times. The basket on his head indicated that he was a harvest god, and the three-headed Cerberus beside him showed that he represented Pluto, the god of the underworld.

The Ptolemies could create such a figure without worrying about offending religious beliefs. What they couldn't have predicted was his success. Serapis not only achieved their immediate political goal of giving the Alexandrians a shared religion, but he also spread beyond the city, across Egypt, and temples dedicated to him popped up throughout the Mediterranean world. Osiris-Apis-Dionysus-Zeus-Aesculapius-Pluto might seem like an odd mix to us, but it lasted over time, met people's needs, and became the final bastion of Paganism against Christianity.

The Temple was located on the ancient citadel of Rhakotis, where “Pompey’s Pillar” stands today. It was surrounded by a cloister, with colonnades linking it to each side of the cloister. The architecture was Greek: a large hall, and at the end, the shrine with the statue of the god. Over the centuries, additional buildings were constructed, and the second and larger of the two Alexandrian libraries—the “Daughter”—was established in them.

The Royal Tombs.

The "Soma" of Alexander became so famous that the earlier Ptolemies were buried nearby, and a large area of buildings—likely in Greek style—was constructed where the current Rue Rosette and Rue Nebi Daniel intersect. Later, the burial site seems to have been within the Palace grounds, and possibly the "Mausoleum" where Cleopatra died was located on the Silsileh promontory, near a small Temple of Isis, close to the sea.

(vi). Other Buildings.

Theatre and Racecourse. Both were close to the Palace: the former was likely on the site of the current Egyptian Government Hospital. Their architecture was Greek.

The Dyke of the Heptastadion was part of Alexander's plan. But the Ptolemies finished it and strengthened it where it met the Island of Pharos.

These were the main buildings and institutions that emerged during the first hundred years of the city’s existence. There were additions, notably the “Caesareum,” which Cleopatra initiated. Overall, it can be said that Alexandria was the result of a single plan, designed by Dinocrates and implemented by the first three Ptolemies. The city showcased all the benefits, and perhaps some of the downsides, of a carefully planned town. There was an impressive sense of order, but it may have felt a bit dull, lacking the intriguing elements that reminded Athens and even Rome of an enigmatic past. In a way, the city was more Greek than Greece itself—constructed at a time when the Hellenic spirit had shed many illusions and was gaining control over material forces like never before. Over time, romance was added, but it began as a fresh, shining marvel of marble, meticulously designed. Everything about it had been carefully thought out—even its religion.

After Euergetes passed away, the dynasty began to decline. Some of his successors were capable, but a certain type emerged that didn't favor morality or success. The typical later Ptolemy is soft; he has an artistic temperament but lacks a genuine love for art. Born in the Palace at Alexandria, he spends all his time there—so much so that it took a year for anyone to realize that Ptolemy IV had died. Although not naturally cruel, he can easily be pushed into cruelty. He is surprisingly shy and in his later years becomes overweight, prompting the Roman envoy to quietly remark “at least the Alexandrians have seen their king walk” when Ptolemy VII arrives, panting to greet him by the quay. As the men become softer, the women become tougher. The dynasty is filled with formidable queens. There’s Arsinoe, whom Philadelphus married; Arsinoe III, who stood against the Syrian army at Rafa; Cleopatra III, who killed her son; and the last and greatest Cleopatra, with whom the tangled lineage comes to an end.

In contrast to this chaos stands the solid but unappealing figure of Rome (first embassy B.C. 273, first intervention B.C. 200). Her advancement was delayed until she secured the Western Mediterranean by defeating Carthage. After that, she presented herself with calculated politeness as the protector of freedom and morals in the East. Legalistic and self-righteous, she instilled fear in the entire Hellenistic world. She was appalled by its corruption—a corruption she never hesitated to exploit, and the shattered empire of Alexander gradually fell into her hands. The Ptolemies became allies with this seemingly perfect entity—a strange partnership that lasted over 200 years. As the Egyptian fleet and army weakened, Rome's influence grew. She claimed to be the guardian of the dynasty; then she asserted that one of the Ptolemies had left Egypt to her in a will she never produced. With Ptolemy XIII, the dynasty became illegitimate, and Rome demanded payment from him to acknowledge his legitimacy. When he was ousted from Egypt (B.C. 89), she made him pay to restore him. He returned with an army of creditors, and to raise the required amount of ten thousand talents, he had to heavily tax the people. Rome was appalled, but resolute.

Against this relentless advance, Alexandria could do nothing. She was the brain of Egypt, and its five senses too. As each embassy arrived at her shores, she realized, unlike the priest-ridden towns in the interior, that the glory was fading from the Nile. There was only one hope: would Rome, before she could take over Egypt, crumble on her own? There were signs of it. The victorious republic had taken in more wealth and ideas than she could handle comfortably. She had always struggled to accept new ideas, and while rival Ptolemies fought in Alexandria, now rival Romans were battling in Rome. Could it be possible to play one against the other and secure safety? The idea appealed to the people of Alexandria. It also occurred to the daughter of the broke Ptolemy XIII, a charming and clever princess named Cleopatra.

The girl who became Cleopatra VI Philopator was just seventeen years old. Her brother and husband, Ptolemy XIV, was ten; her younger brother was eight, and her sister was fifteen. The palace in Alexandria turned into a playground for four clever kids watching the battle between Pompey and Caesar across the seas. Pompey was their guardian, but they had no illusions about him or each other. All they cared about was life and power. Cleopatra's first scheme, aimed at her husband, backfired. He drove her away, and while she was gone, the battle came to an end. Pompey, defeated by Caesar, arrived in Egypt, sought refuge with the children, and was murdered by their agents as he got off the boat.

With Caesar's arrival, Cleopatra's victories began. She was no different in character from other clever and ruthless queens of her lineage, but she had one source of power they lacked—the power of a courtesan—and she used it to her advantage. Although passionate, she wasn’t controlled by her emotions, much less by sentimentality. Her concern was for her safety and for Egypt; the clumsy and lovestruck Romans threatening both were her natural targets. In the past, a queen might rule from her throne. Now, she had to step down and play the woman. After hearing that Caesar was staying at the Palace, Cleopatra returned to Alexandria, wrapped herself in a bundle of oriental carpets, and was smuggled to him in this intriguing disguise. The other children objected, but she had already won her first victory; she could count on Julius Caesar’s support against her husband.

24However, Caesar’s position was very unstable. He was the ruler of the world, but in his eagerness to catch Pompey, he had rushed ahead of his legions. Once the excitement of his arrival faded, the people of Alexandria recognized this, and in a fierce little war (Aug. 48—Jan. 47), they tried to overpower him before reinforcements could arrive. He controlled the Palace (near Chatby), the Theatre (Egyptian Government Hospital), and part of the Eastern Harbour where his small fleet was stationed. They possessed the rest of the town, including the Western Harbour and the Island, and they had Cleopatra’s sister who had escaped from the palace and later Ptolemy XIV himself, which allowed them to claim they represented the dynasty.

It was definitely a nationwide uprising against the Romans, and it was well-organized. Five stages (see Map. p. 98).

(1). Siege of the Palace.—The efforts were successful by land but failed by sea when Caesar unexpectedly launched an attack on the docks of the Eastern Harbour and set fire to the Alexandrian fleet. The flames spread to the Mouseion, and the Library (“Mother” Library) was destroyed. An attempt to poison the palace water supply also failed; when the Alexandrians pumped salt water into the conduit, the besieged Romans dug wells within the Palace area.

(2). First Naval Engagement.—Caesar's reinforcements had started to arrive, and a strong east wind had blown them past the entrance of his harbor. He went out to tow them in, and the Alexandrians came out of their own harbor—the Western—to intercept him. They didn't succeed.

(3). Second Naval Engagement and loss of the Island of Pharos.—Leaving his harbor, Caesar navigated around Ras-el-Tin and positioned his ships outside the reef line that extends from it to Agame, which protects the entrance to the Western Harbour. The Alexandrians were waiting inside. Rushing through the entrance, he forced them against the docks of Rhakotis and defeated them. This allowed him to attack the Island from both sides. The next day, it fell into his hands, becoming his headquarters and altering the strategy of the war.

(4). Battle of the Dyke.—Caesar blocked the arches that led into the Heptastadion so the Alexandrians couldn't move between harbors. Then he attempted to break into the city. He used too many troops, and by landing behind him, the Alexandrians caught him off guard. He had to jump off the dyke and swim to a boat. Victory. They recaptured the entire Heptastadion and reopened its arches.

25(5). Battle by the Nile.—The war ultimately came to a decision outside Alexandria. More reinforcements were arriving for Caesar at the Canopic mouth of the Nile, and the people of Alexandria marched out to stop them. The young Ptolemy XIV was their general now. He was defeated and drowned, his army was wiped out, and Caesar returned triumphantly to the city and to Cleopatra.

Cleopatra’s fortune now seemed secure. After marrying her younger brother (as Ptolemy XV), she took a trip with Caesar up the Nile to show him its historical sites. The Egyptians hated her as their traitor, but she didn’t care. She had a son with Caesar and followed him to Rome, where she flaunted her arrogance. She was at the peak of her beauty and power when disaster struck. On the Ides of March, B.C. 44, Caesar was assassinated. In the end, she had picked the wrong lover.

Back in Alexandria again, she watched the second duel—between Mark Antony and the men who killed Caesar. She didn't support either side, and when Antony won, he called her in to explain her neutrality. She arrived, not in a carpet but in a gilded barge, and her life from that point on belongs less to history than to poetry. It's almost impossible to see the later Cleopatra as an ordinary person. She has joined the ranks of Helen and Iseult. Yet her character remained unchanged. Sensual but observant, she treated her new lover like she had treated her old one. She never bored him, and since crudeness leads to monotony, she stimulated his mind toward those more refined pleasures, where the senses touch the spirit. Her endless variety was in that. She was the last of a private and nuanced lineage; she was a flower that Alexandria took three hundred years to cultivate, and that eternity cannot fade, unfolding herself to a simple but intelligent Roman soldier.

Alexandria, now accepting her fate and safeguarded by Antony's legions, became the capital of the Eastern world. The West was under Octavian, Caesar's nephew, and a third showdown was unavoidable. This conflict was delayed for a few years, during which Antony took on and then abandoned a Roman wife, while Cleopatra had several children with him. Her son by Julius Caesar was crowned Ptolemy XVI, also known as King of Kings. Antony himself was deified, and she constructed a temple in his honor, later named the Caesareum, embellished with two ancient obelisks (Cleopatra’s Needles). This era of joy and grandeur ended with the naval disaster at Actium in the Adriatic, where Octavian defeated their united fleets. The defeat was accelerated by Cleopatra’s cowardice. At the crucial moment, she fled with sixty ships, literally breaking through Antony’s line from the back and causing chaos. He followed her to Alexandria, and once the accusations stopped, they returned to their hedonistic lifestyle, shadowed and heightened by the impending presence of death. They made no effort to resist the pursuing Octavian. Instead, they formed a Suicide Club, and Antony, wanting to emulate the misanthropic Timon, built a retreat in the Western Harbour which he named Timonium. Nor was religion quiet. The god Hercules, whom he adored and who returned that affection, was heard leaving Alexandria one night amid beautiful music and song.

Arrival of Octavian. He is one of the most unpleasant of the world’s successful people, and to his cold mind, Cleopatra's life could only seem like a crude scandal. In his view, vice should be hidden. As he approached, Antony, after resisting outside the Canopic Gate (at “Caesar’s Camp”), retreated into the city and took his own life. He was taken, dying, to Cleopatra, who had withdrawn into their tomb, and their story now rises to the everlasting realm of art. Shakespeare found his inspiration in Plutarch, who was inspired himself, making it hard to discern the actual facts through their shared emotions. The asp, for instance, the asp is not a certainty. It was never known how Cleopatra died. She was captured and taken to Octavian, with whom she had even been scheming during Antony’s lifetime, as the courtesan in her endured. This time, she did not appear in a carpet or a barge, but on a sofa, in the alluring carelessness of grief. The good young man was taken aback. Realizing that he planned to parade her in his triumph in Rome, and also that she was now thirty-nine years old, she ended her life. She was buried in the tomb with Antony; and her ladies Charmion and Iras, who died with her, stood guard at its doors like bronze statues. Alexandria became the capital of a Roman Province.

Thus the career of the Greco-Egyptian city ends, just as it began, in an atmosphere of Romance. Cleopatra is, of course, a lesser figure than Alexander the Great. Her ambition is purely selfish, while Alexander’s was mystically linked to the well-being of humanity. She knows nothing beyond physical existence and recoils from discomfort and pain, whereas Alexander achieved the strength of a hero. Yet despite their differences, the man who founded Alexandria and the woman who lost it share one significant trait: monumental greatness; and suspended between them, like a rare and fragile chain, is the dynasty of the Ptolemies. This dynasty is often criticized by historians, but the Egyptians who lived under it were more tolerant. It had one element of greatness: it accurately represented the complex country it ruled. In Upper Egypt, it continued the tradition of the Pharaohs; on the coast, it was Hellenistic and engaged with Mediterranean culture. After its decline, the energy of Alexandria turns inward. It will make significant contributions in philosophy and religion. But it is no longer the capital of a kingdom, no longer Royal.

Before leaving the Ptolemies, let’s take a moment to reflect on their civilization. We’ve seen how they established two major institutions, the Palace and the Mouseion, which were connected and extended from the Silsileh promontory to a point inland—possibly as far as the current railway station. It was in this area, filled with gardens and colonnades, that the culture of Alexandria was born. The Palace provided the funding and set the agenda, while the Mouseion contributed creativity and knowledge; their relationship was so close it bordered on absurd. For example, when Queen Berenice, wife of Euergetes, lost her hair from the temple where she had dedicated it, it was the court astronomer’s job to identify it as a constellation, and the court poet’s job to write an elegy about it. Stratonice, who was completely bald, posed an even trickier issue; she sent a message to the Mouseion requesting that something be written about her hair too. Victory odes, funeral dirges, marriage hymns, jokes, family trees, medical prescriptions, mechanical toys, maps, war machines: whatever the Palace needed, it just had to inform the Mouseion, and the funded staff would jump into action. The poets and scientists there avoided anything that would upset the Royal Family and didn’t do much that would confuse it, as they knew if they failed to please, they would be kicked out of this enchanted area and have to find another patron or face starvation. It wasn’t an ideal setup, as critics were quick to point out, and snobbery and servility tainted the culture of Alexandria from the start. It emerged behind walls, never experiencing loneliness or the triumphs and perils of independence, and it’s remarkable that it thrived as well as it did. In any case, it’s pointless to criticize it for not being different, because if it had been, it wouldn’t have been Alexandrian. In spirit and in reality, the Palace and the Mouseion were interconnected, with the Palace being the more powerful and older of the two. This connection stifled Philosophy and deprived Literature of the nourishment that Philosophy could offer. However, it did promote Science and even provided Literature with certain elegance that it had previously overlooked.

The literature that emerged in the Mouseion didn’t have high aspirations. It wasn’t concerned with ultimate issues or even behavior problems and didn’t tackle the deeper questions of art. It was enough to be graceful, moving, knowledgeable, entertaining, or even risqué, as long as it remained loyal—so while it was filled with experiments, it was completely lacking in adventure. It developed after the heroic age of Greece had ended, when freedom was lost, and possibly honor too. It was disillusioned, and we can be thankful it wasn’t also bitter. It had a certain strength because it recognized that out of the ruins of traditional hopes, three good things remained—namely, the decorative beauty of the universe, the joys of learning, and the joys of love, with love being the best of the three. Ancient Greece had also celebrated love, but with moderation, seeing it as just one of many pursuits. The Alexandrians, however, rarely spoke of anything else: their epigrams, their elegies and idylls, and their one great epic all revolve around the tender emotion, celebrating it in ways that previous generations had never experienced and that future ones would come to know all too well. Darts and hearts, sighs and eyes, breasts and chests, all originated in Alexandria and from the interactions between the Palace and the Mouseion—clichés today, but back then they were new. 30

runs a couplet attributed to one of the early Librarians, which briefly captures the characteristics of the school—decorative style, mythological references, and the theme of love. Love, depicted as a mischievous and carefree boy, weaves through the literature of Alexandria just like the thousands of terra cotta figurines that have been unearthed from its land; you can get tired of him, but it's fitting that he was born under a dynasty that ended with Cleopatra.

Literature was shaped by Callimachus—a talented poet, even if not as great as his patrons believed. He started his career as a teacher in Eleusis (now Nouzha) and was later invited to the Mouseion, where he became the Librarian under Euergetes. His knowledge was vast, his humor sharp, and his loyalty unwavering. He was the one who wrote the poem about Berenice's hair. Elegant and meticulous in everything he did, he declared that “a big book is a big nuisance” and valued clarity of expression more than emotional depth, although the emotion is evident in his famous epigram:

Only once was this amazing career interrupted. Among his students was a young man from Rhodes named Apollonius, who had skinny legs. Apollonius was eager to write an epic—a type of work that Callimachus hated and was against all his ideas. Despite Callimachus's objections, Apollonius, then only eighteen, gave a public reading of his poem's first draft at the 31Mouseion. This led to a fierce argument, resulting in Apollonius being expelled, and Callimachus wrote a satire called the Ibis, where he mocked his rival's legs and other shortcomings. Apollonius's friends retaliated just as passionately, disrupting the peace of the Mouseion. Callimachus emerged victorious, but his triumph wasn't permanent; after he passed away, Apollonius was invited back to Alexandria and eventually became the librarian there himself.

The Epic that Apollonius wanted to write has survived. It's based on Homer and tells the story of the Argo's journey to retrieve the Golden Fleece. However, there's nothing Homeric about how it's presented, and even though we're meant to be in wild, barbaric lands, we never really leave the refined court of the Ptolemies. Love remains the dominant theme. He sneaks, the naughty little boy, into Medea's palace and shoots his little arrow at her to spark her passion for Jason. He could have easily inspired Queen Berenice or Arsinoe too. The feelings of pain, languor, and ecstasy take over, and the theme of the heroic quest is forgotten. Callimachus probably found nothing to criticize in this poem except its length, as it reflects the style of his school. Its vivid imagery is also typical of Alexandria; many of the episodes could be depicted in terra cotta statues and gems.

But one of the poets who worked in the Mouseion—Theocritus—was a genius of a very different kind, a genius that Alexandria nurtured but can't be said to have created. Theocritus arrived here later in his life. He was born on Cos and had lived in Sicily, and he came filled with memories that no city dweller could share—memories of fresh air and sunshine, of green meadows and shady trees, of goats and sheep, of the men and women who took care of them, and of all the charm and roughness that make up country life. He transformed these memories into poetry, sometimes idealizing them, sometimes presenting them as they were, and he called these poems Idylls—little snapshots of rural life. Love, myths, and fancy decorations appealed to him too, but he backed them with a breadth of experience and enthusiasm that Callimachus and Apollonius never had. While they are "Classics" that need to be studied, Theocritus connects with us immediately; his Fifteenth Idyll, which depicts life in the Greek Quarter of Alexandria, is as vivid today as when he wrote it. The dialogue with which it begins can still be heard in any of the small drawing rooms of Camp de César or Ibrahimieh. Praxinoe, a middle-class lady, is found sitting, doing nothing in particular. In comes Gorgo, her friend.

Gorgo. Is Praxinoe in?

Praxinoe. Oh my dear Gorgo, it's been forever since you were here. She is at home. It's surprising that you’ve come even now. (calls to the maid) Eunoe, get her a chair and add a cushion to it.

Gorgo. Oh, it looks great just the way it is.

Praxinoe. Take a seat!

G. I'm completely on edge—Praxinoe, I barely made it here alive... with the crowd, the carriages... soldiers’ boots—soldiers’ greatcoats, and the street just goes on forever—you definitely live too far.

P. That’s my crazy husband. We took this hut—it's hard to call it a house—at the edge of the world so we wouldn’t be neighbors. Just plain jealousy. As always.

G. But, honey, don't talk about your husband when the little boy is around—he's watching you. (to the little boy) Sweetie—that's okay—she's not talking about daddy.—Oh my, the child gets it.—Nice daddy!

P. The other day, Dad—we tend to call every day the other day—he went to get some soda at the Baccal and accidentally brought back salt instead—the big clumsy guy.

Mine’s exactly the same, he....^[3]

And so on. But Gorgo wants to go out again, despite her nerves. It’s the Feast of the Resurrection—the Resurrection of Adonis—and there’s going to be a spectacular service inside the Palace, with a special singer. Praxinoe decides to join in too and puts on the full-body dress that cost “at least eight pounds,” not including embroidery. They’re finally ready, and then the little boy starts to scream; he wants to be part of the outing. But his mother says, “cry all you want, I can't have you injured,” and takes Eunoe instead. The crowd outside is overwhelming; they’re scared of the Egyptians (just like Greek ladies today), and Eunoe, who is always clumsy, nearly falls under a horse. The battle at the Palace Gate is even worse; Praxinoe’s best muslin veil gets torn, and she’s more thankful than ever that she didn’t bring her little boy. But for a kind gentleman in the crowd, they might never have gotten in. Once inside, everything is wonderful. The draperies are gorgeous, as you’d expect when Queen Arsinoe is paying for them—Arsinoe, the wife of Philadelphus. And here’s a Holy Sepulchre with an image of Adonis lying on it, the down of early manhood just visible on his cheeks! The ladies are ecstatic and can hardly calm down to listen to the Resurrection Hymn. In this Hymn, Theocritus shows the other side of his genius—the “Alexandrian” side. He’s no longer the amusing realist, but an educated poet, whose main theme is love.

O Queen who loves Golgi and Idalium and Eryx, O Aphrodite who plays with gold—look, from the eternal stream of Hades they've brought you back Adonis.... He’s a groom of eighteen or nineteen years, his kisses are still soft, with the golden fuzz still on his lips.... You alone, dear Adonis, as people say, visit both this world and the stream of Hades. For Agamemnon didn’t have such a fate, nor Ajax the wrathful, nor Hector, Hecuba’s first-born, nor Patroclus, nor Pyrrhus who returned from Troy, nor even the heroes from even older times.... Be gracious now, dear Adonis, and bless us in the coming year. Your return has been precious, and it will be precious again when you come back.

A beautiful hymn, but as Gorgo says, “It’s still time to head home; my husband hasn’t had his dinner, and when he’s kept waiting, he gets as sour as vinegar.” They salute the risen god and leave.

This charming Idyll isn’t exactly typical of Theocritus—he usually writes about shepherds and their flocks. But it’s a significant contribution to the literature of Alexandria and our main source for understanding daily life under the Ptolemies. History often focuses too much on armies and kings. The Fifteenth Idyll sets that straight. Only through literature can we connect with the past, and here Theocritus, using the power of both realism and poetry, has brought an entire city back to life and filled its streets with people. As Praxinoe says about the fabrics, “It’s like the figures are standing up and moving; they’re not just patterns, they’re alive.”

The Mouseion was at its peak during the reign of the first three Ptolemies. After that, it started to decline—especially in terms of its literary contributions—and although Alexandria produced poetry, and other works for several hundred years, not many of them are worth noting. When the Romans arrived, the city explored new directions in philosophy and religion. Still, it continued to attract literary figures, and almost every prominent writer visited it during their travels.

In the Mouseion at Alexandria, Greece first recognized its literary heritage, and the works of the past were not just collected in the Library but were also organized, revised, and explained. Scholarship began with Zenodotus, the first Librarian. He focused on Homer, dividing the Iliad and Odyssey into “Books,” removing false verses from the text, marking questionable ones, and introducing new readings. He sparked a general interest in research. Until then, the Greek language had developed without much notice. Now it was examined intentionally, leading to the first Greek Grammar (around 100 B.C.). Grammar is a valuable subject but can also be troublesome, as it tends to draw in pedants, teachers, and anyone who believes that literature is all about rules. The Grammarians of Alexandria lost sight of the fact that they were only codifying past usages and pretended to dictate to the present and future; they set a poor example that has persisted for nearly 2000 years. Greek accents—another questionable addition—were also invented in the Mouseion. In fact, the entirety of literary scholarship, as we know it, originated here, including the peculiar by-product known as the Scholarly Joke. For example, one scholar wrote a poem that took the shape of a bird when transcribed, another crafted a poem shaped like a double-headed axe, and a third rewrote the entire Odyssey without using the letter S. The scholarly humor of the Mouseion spread to the Palace and was embraced by the Ptolemies themselves. One scholar, named Sosibius, complained to King Philadelphus that he hadn’t received his salary. The King responded, “The first syllable of your name is in Soter, the second in Sosigenes, the third in Bion, and the fourth in Apollonius; I have paid those four gentlemen, so I have paid you.”

Unimportant. Alexandria had her own special industries—for example glass, terra cotta, “Egyptian Queen” pottery, and textiles, and her mint was well-known; but for innovative artists, the Ptolemies looked overseas. Greek and Egyptian styles didn’t mix in Art like they did in Religion; there were a few attempts, but they weren’t significant, and overall the city followed the general Hellenistic trends of the time. These trends led, as we’ve seen, away from the ideal and the abstract, toward portraiture and the delicate and picturesque. People had lost many illusions, both religious and political, and were trying to enhance their private lives and the tombs of those they loved.

Unimportant. The Ptolemies brought in some mediocre followers of Aristotle to add prestige to the Mouseion, but they didn’t care about the subject and were actually against it, as it could encourage independent thinking. It wasn’t until their dynasty ended that the great school of Alexandrian Philosophy emerged. (See p. 60, under heading “The Spiritual City.”)

The Ptolemies were more successful in Science than in Literature. They favored it because it couldn't question their divine right. Their biggest achievement was establishing the Mouseion, which made Alexandria famous for all time. Science had been studied in Ancient Greece, but only sporadically; there was no organization, no laboratories, and while important truths might have been discovered or guessed, they risked fading into obscurity because they couldn't be popularized. The establishment of the Mouseion changed everything. Working under royal support and with every resource available, science soared to new heights and provided valuable contributions to humanity. The third century B.C. is, from this perspective, the greatest period civilization has ever known—greater even than the nineteenth century A.D. It didn't bring happiness or wisdom; science never does. But it explored the physical universe and harnessed many powers for our benefit. Mathematics, Geography, Astronomy, Medicine—all matured in the small area between present-day Rue Rosette and the sea, and if we had any sense of what’s appropriate, there would be a memorial to them in that spot today.

Mathematics.

Mathematics starts with the remarkable yet mysterious life of Euclid. We know very little about Euclid; in fact, people think of him more as a field of study than as a person. But Euclid was once alive during the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, and he told that superficial ruler that there is “no royal road to geometry.” It was here that he wrote, among other works, his “Elements,” where he compiled all existing knowledge, which has served as the world's textbook for Geometry almost to this day. He founded a mathematical school that lasted for 700 years, and he was recognized as its leader until the end. Apollonius of Perga, who started the study of Conic Sections, was his direct student; Hypsicles added two more books to the original thirteen of his “Elements”; and Theon—father of the martyred Hypatia—edited the “Elements” and gave them their current form, so that throughout the years, mathematicians in Alexandria were deeply engaged with his work. He was considered an insignificant man, according to tradition, and was very reserved; his blunt response to Philadelphus seems to have been an exception.

(ii). Geography.

In geography, there are two prominent figures—Eratosthenes and Claudius Ptolemy. Eratosthenes is the more remarkable of the two. He was an all-around genius, excelling in both literature and science. Born in Cyrene in 276 B.C., he was invited to Alexandria to serve as the librarian after the death of Callimachus. It was at the Mouseion observatory that he measured the Earth—arguably not the greatest achievement of Alexandrian science, but certainly the most exciting. His method was straightforward. He knew the Earth was round and learned that at midday during the summer solstice, the sun in Assouan, Upper Egypt, cast no shadow. Meanwhile, at the same moment in Alexandria, it did cast a shadow since Alexandria is further north on the same longitude. After measuring the shadow in Alexandria, he found it was 7⅗ degrees—meaning 1/50th of a complete circle—implying that the distance from Alexandria to Assouan must be 1/50th of the Earth's circumference. He estimated that distance at 500 miles, leading him to calculate the full circumference at 250,000 miles and the diameter at 7,850 miles; he was only 50 miles off in the latter estimate. It’s strange that after achieving such scientific triumphs, humanity would fall back into fairy tales and barbarism.

40 The other significant work of Eratosthenes was his “Geographies,” which compiled all the existing knowledge on the topic, similar to how Euclid’s “Elements” gathered all prior mathematical knowledge. The “Geographies” were written in three volumes, and they included a map of the known world. (See p. 37). Of course, it’s filled with inaccuracies—e.g. Great Britain is too big, India isn’t depicted as a peninsula, and the Caspian Sea is shown connecting to the Arctic Ocean. However, it was created with a scientific mindset. It depicts the world as Eratosthenes perceived it, not as he believed it should be. When he lacked information, he left it out; he wasn’t afraid to include blank spaces. He grounded it on the facts he knew, and if he had known more, he would have adjusted it.

The other great geographer, Claudius Ptolemy, belongs to a later period (A.D. 100), but it's useful to mention him here. He might have been connected to the late royal family, but nothing is known about his life. His reputation has eclipsed that of Eratosthenes, and he was undoubtedly more knowledgeable, as he had access to more facts. However, we can see in him the decline of the scientific spirit. Take a look at his Map of the World (p. 39). At first glance, it's better than Eratosthenes' map. The Caspian Sea is more accurately represented, new countries—like China—are added, and there are many more names in the original. But there is one major error. He extended Africa into a fictional continent and connected it to China. It was just a product of his imagination: he even populated this continent with towns and rivers. No one corrected this mistake, and for hundreds of years, people believed that the Indian Ocean was surrounded by land. The age of inquiry was over, and the age of authority had started, and it’s noteworthy that the decline of science in Alexandria coincides perfectly with the rise of Christianity.

(iii). Astronomy and the Calendar.

Astronomy evolves similarly to Geography. There’s an early phase of scientific inquiry led by Eratosthenes, followed by a later phase where Claudius Ptolemy compiles the findings and presents his views to future generations. He claimed, for example, that the Universe revolves around the Earth, and this “Ptolemaic” Theory was accepted by all later astronomers until Galileo, bolstered by the full support of the Church. However, another perspective was proposed that Ptolemy overlooked. Aristarchus of Samos, who was working in Alexandria with Eratosthenes, had suggested that the Earth might actually revolve around the Sun, and it was by chance that this idea wasn’t officially recognized and enforced as the norm throughout the Middle Ages. We don’t know what Aristarchus’ arguments were because his writings have been lost, but we can be sure that, working in the 3rd century B.C., he had valid points and didn’t rely solely on authority. Astronomy during the Ptolemaic era was a serious matter—lightened only by the story of Berenice’s Hair.

As for the Calendar. The Calendar we use today was developed in Alexandria. The Ancient Egyptians figured the year to be 365 days long. It’s actually 365 ¼ days, so they quickly fell out of sync; for example, the official Harvest Festival only matched up with the actual harvest once every 1,500 years. They knew about the mistake but were too traditional to change it, so that responsibility fell to Alexandria. In B.C. 239, Ptolemy Euergetes's young daughter died, and the priests of Serapis at Canopus decided to make her a goddess. Even in his sadness, the King urged them to fix the Calendar by introducing a Leap Year every four years, just like today; he tried to combine Egyptian traditions with Greek science. This effort—typical of Alexandria—failed, because although the priests issued the decree, they stuck to their old system. It wasn’t until Julius Caesar arrived in Egypt that the reform was successful. He established the “Alexandrian Year” as the official calendar, which led to the creation of the “Julian” calendar that we use in Europe today; both years were the same length, but the “Alexandrian” calendar kept the old Egyptian structure of twelve equal months.

(iv). Healthcare.

Erasistratus (3rd century B.C.) is the main figure in the Alexandrian medical school. Earlier in his career, he was a prominent doctor and recognized the link between sexual issues and nervous breakdowns. In his later years, he moved to the Mouseion and focused on research. He conducted vivisection on animals, and possibly on criminals, and he appears to have been close to discovering blood circulation. In contrast, the healing practices that emerged in the grand temples of Serapis, both in Alexandria and Canopus, were less strictly scientific; these practices continued into Christian times under different influences.

Octavian (Augustus), the founder of the Roman Empire, disliked Alexandria so much that after defeating Cleopatra, he established a town near modern Ramleh called Nicopolis, the “City of Victory.” He also prohibited any Roman from the governing classes from entering Egypt without his permission, claiming that the religious ceremonies there would corrupt their morals. The real reason was economic. He wanted to control the supply of Egyptian grain to manage the starving citizens of Rome. Unlike other Roman provinces, Egypt became a private domain of the Emperor, who directly appointed the Prefect to govern it, and Alexandria transformed into a massive imperial granary where the tribute collected in goods from the farmers was stored for shipping. It was a time of exploitation. Octavian presented himself locally as the divine heir of the Ptolemies, appearing among hieroglyphs at Dendyra and Philae. However, he had no genuine interest in the local population.

After his death, things got better. The harsh, unkind Republic he represented transformed into Imperial Rome, which, despite its moments of insanity, brought happiness to the Mediterranean world for two hundred years. Alexandria enjoyed some of this happiness. Her new issue—riots between Greeks and Jews—was resolved, unfortunately at the expense of the latter; she gained new trade from improved connections with India (Trajan A.D. 115 recut the Red Sea Canal); she was visited by a series of grateful Emperors on their way to explore the ancient sites of Upper Egypt.

In around A.D. 250, she and the rest of the Empire faced troubles again. Humanity, as if it wasn’t meant to experience happiness, fell into a state of envy and dissatisfaction. Barbarians attacked the Empire’s borders, and there were revolts and mutinies inside. The Emperors’ challenges were made worse by a religious issue. For political reasons, they had been emphasizing their own divinity—a divinity that Egypt had taught them: they believed it would unite people against chaos and division. So, they insisted that everyone should worship them. Who would have thought there would be a protest, and one coming from Alexandria?

According to the tradition of the Egyptian Church, Christianity was brought to Alexandria by St. Mark, who in A.D. 45 converted a Jewish shoemaker named Annianus, and who was martyred in 62 for protesting against the worship of Serapis. There’s no way to verify this tradition; the origins of the movement were obscure and not well-regarded, and the authorities paid little attention to it until it broke their rules. Its teachings were confused partly with Judaism from which they originated and partly with other beliefs in the city. A letter attributed to Emperor Hadrian (in Alexandria 134) states, “Those who worship Serapis are Christians, and those who call themselves bishops of Christ are devoted to Serapis,” highlighting how unclear the influence of St. Mark's successors was. The letter goes on to say, “As a group, they are rebellious, arrogant, and resentful; as a community, they are wealthy and thriving, with no one living in idleness. Some blow glass, some make paper, and others produce linen. 46Their one God isn’t unique; Christians, Jews, and people from all nations worship him. I wish this group behaved better.”

The community was organized under its “overseer” or bishop, who soon took the title of patriarch and appointed bishops in other parts of Egypt. The earliest centers were (i) the oratory of St. Mark, which stood by the shore—probably east of Silsileh—and was later expanded into a Cathedral; (ii) a later cathedral church dedicated (285) by Patriarch Theonas to the Virgin Mary; it was located on the site of the current Franciscan Church by the Docks; (iii) a Theological College—the “Catechetical School,” founded around 200, where Clement of Alexandria and Origen taught—site unknown.

It was its “bad behavior,” as Hadrian put it, that brought the community into the spotlight—that is to say, its refusal to worship the Emperors. In response to the ridiculous spiritual demands of the state, Christianity stood for the rights of individual conscience, and the tension eased only when the state itself embraced Christianity. The conflict peaked in Alexandria, which, more than any other city in the Empire, can claim to have triumphed in the battle for the new religion. Persecution, initially sporadic, intensified under Decius and reached a climax with Diocletian's desperate measures in 303—demolishing churches, degrading all Christian officials, and enslaving all Christian non-officials. Diocletian, a capable ruler—his memorial is the misnamed great column of Pompey—did not persecute out of personal vendetta, but the consequences were just as devastating and tarnished the reputation of the pagan state. While we don’t have to accept the Egyptian Church’s claim of 144,000 martyrs in nine years, there’s no doubt that many people from all walks of life perished. Among the victims was St. Menas, a young Egyptian soldier who became the patron saint of the desert west of Lake Mariout, where a grand church was built over his grave. St. Catherine of Alexandria is also said to have died under Diocletian, but it’s unlikely she ever existed; she and her wheel were products of Western Catholicism, and the land of her supposed suffering has only acknowledged her out of courtesy to the French. The persecution was futile, the state was defeated, and the Egyptian Church, justly victorious, marks its chronology from the “Era of Martyrs” (A.D. 284). A few years later, Emperor Constantine made Christianity the official religion, and the external threat came to an end.

It was only natural that Alexandria, which had endured so much for Christianity, would share in its victory, and as soon as universal tolerance was announced, her significance reemerged. Rome, as the center of Paganism, became discredited, and it seemed that the city by the Nile might become Imperial again, like in the days of Antony. That hope was crushed, as Constantine, a very cautious man, decided it was safer to establish a new capital on the Bosphorus, where no memories from the past could interfere. But Alexandria remained the spiritual capital, and it seemed that she, who had helped liberate the Christian faith, would guide it in harmony and peace to its 48home at the feet of God. That hope was dashed too. An era of hatred and suffering was on the horizon. The Christians, once they gained control of the pagan state’s structures, turned them against each other, and the century echoed with disputes between two domineering clergymen.

Both were from Alexandria. Arius, the older one, served at St. Mark’s—the now-gone church by the sea at Chatby where it’s said the Evangelist was martyred. He was knowledgeable and genuine, tall, simply dressed, and convincing in his speech. His enemies accused him of resembling a snake and seducing, in a theological sense, 700 virgins. Athanasius, his rival, first appears as a cheerful little boy playing with other kids on the beach below St. Theonas’—that is, on the shore of the current western harbor. He was pretending to perform Baptism, which he had no authority to do since he wasn’t ordained, and the Patriarch, who happened to be watching from the palace window, tried to stop him. No one ever succeeded in stopping St. Athanasius. He baptized his playmates, and the Patriarch, impressed by his precocity, acknowledged the sacrament as valid and hired the active young theologian as his secretary. Physically, Athanasius was dark-skinned and small, but strong and very graceful—he resembled a modern street type. His personality is hard to discern through the layers of time, but he wasn’t particularly lovable, although he became a popular hero. His abilities were exceptional. As a theologian, he understood the truth, and as a politician, he knew how to enforce it. His career combined subtlety with energy, and selflessness with cleverness in a truly remarkable way.

The dispute—started by Arius—was about the nature of Christ. Its doctrinal significance is discussed below (p. 75); here we're only looking at the outward consequences. Constantine, who wasn't really a theologian and had questionable beliefs himself, was shocked by the split that quickly divided his empire. He wrote, urging kindness, and when he was ignored, he summoned the disputants to Nicaea on the 49 Black Sea (325). Two hundred and fifty bishops and many priests showed up, and amid significant tension, the Nicene Creed was adopted and Arius was condemned. Athanasius, who was still just a deacon at the time, returned triumphantly to Alexandria and soon became the Patriarch there. But his troubles were just beginning. Constantine, still fixated on hopes for tolerance, asked him to take Arius back. He refused and ended up being exiled himself.

He was exiled five times in total—once by the orthodox Constantine (335), twice by the Arian Constantius (338 and 356), once by the pagan Julian (362), and once, shortly before his death, by the Arian Valens. Sometimes he hid in the Libyan desert, sometimes he escaped to Rome or Palestine and made the Christian world aware of his grievances. Twice he came close to death in church—once in the Caesareum where he walked out one door as the enemy entered through the other, and once in St. Theonas at night, where he escaped from the altar just before Arian soldiers could kill him. He always returned, and he had the ultimate satisfaction of outliving Arius, who collapsed and died one evening while walking through Alexandria with a friend. To us, living in a secular time, such victories seem distant, and it seems better to die young, like Alexander the Great, than to endure this dry theological journey. But Athanasius has the everlasting legacy he would have wanted. Thanks to his efforts, the Church has accepted his views on the nature of Christ as final, and, in gratitude, has recognized him as a doctor and canonized him as a saint. In Alexandria, a large church was built to honor his name. It stood on the north side of Canopic Street; the Attarine Mosque occupies part of its site today.

After the achievements of Athanasius, the Patriarchate of Alexandria became very powerful. In theory, Egypt was under the Emperor, who sent a Prefect and a garrison from Constantinople; in practice, it was ruled by the Patriarch and his group of monks. The monks weren’t significant as long as they lived individually, but by the 4th century, they had formed strong communities, from which they would sometimes launch raids on civilization like modern-day Bedouins. One of these communities was only nine miles from Alexandria (the “Ennaton”), while others were further west, in the Mariout desert; some remnants still exist in the Wady Natrun. The monks had some knowledge of theology and decorative arts, but they were resistant to culture and incapable of deep thought. Their heroes included St. Ammon, who left his wife on their wedding eve, and St. Antony, who believed bathing was sinful and was therefore carried across the canals of the delta by an angel. Patriarchs were chosen from among such men.

Christianity, which became official at the beginning of the 4th century, became mandatory by the end of the century, giving monks the chance to attack the worship of Serapis. A lot of things had taken refuge in that ancient Ptolemaic shrine—philosophy, magic, learning, and debauchery. The Patriarch Theophilus led this assault. The Serapis temple at Canopus (Aboukir) fell in 389, and the main temple in Alexandria fell two years later; the fall of the latter was significant because it resulted in the destruction of the Library, which housed many books in the cloisters surrounding the buildings; a monastery was built on that site. 51 The persecution of pagans continued and peaked with the murder of Hypatia in 415. The accomplishments of Hypatia, like her youth, have been exaggerated; she was a middle-aged woman who taught mathematics at the Mouseion, and although she was also a philosopher, we have no record of her beliefs. The monks had taken over, and one of them had murdered the Imperial Prefect, and the Patriarch Cyril had declared him a saint for the act. Cyril’s frenzied black-clad followers filled the streets, “human only in their faces,” eager to perform a final act of devotion before returning to their monasteries. In this fervor, they confronted Hypatia as she was leaving a lecture (likely along what is now Nebi Daniel Street), dragged her from her carriage to the Caesareum, and brutally killed her with roof tiles. She is not an iconic figure. But with her, the spirit of Greece faded—the Greece that sought to discover truth and create beauty, and that had established Alexandria.

The monks, however, had another side to them. They were at the center of a national movement. Nationality didn’t exist in the modern sense—it was a religious, not a patriotic, era. But beneath the guise of religion, racial feelings could take hold, and the monks killed Hypatia not just because they believed she was sinful, but also because they saw her as foreign. They were anti-Greek, and later, they and their lay supporters were called Copts. “Copt” means “Egyptian.” The Coptic language was derived from ancient Egyptian, and their writing system was Greek, with six additional letters adapted from hieroglyphs. This new movement spread throughout the country, even to cosmopolitan Alexandria, and as soon as it found a theological framework to express itself, a revolt against Constantinople began.

That formula is known as "Monophysism." Its theological significance—it relates to the Nature of Christ—is discussed below (p. 76); here we focus on its outward effects. The Patriarch Dioscurus, who is both the successor and nephew of Cyril, is considered the first Monophysite hero and the real founder of the Coptic Church. The Emperor took a strong stance, and at the Council of Chalcedon near Constantinople, Dioscurus was exiled and his teachings were condemned (451). From that moment, no Greek was safe in Egypt. The racial tensions, which had been kept at bay by the Ptolemies, erupted and have not subsided to this day. Before long, Alexandria found itself with two Patriarchs. There was (i) The Orthodox or "Royal" Patriarch, who supported the decisions of Chalcedon. He was appointed by the Emperor and controlled most of the Church's wealth. However, he had no spiritual authority over the Egyptians; they saw him as a detestable Greek official posing as a priest. (ii) The Monophysite or Coptic Patriarch, who opposed Chalcedon—a typical Egyptian monk, poor, narrow-minded, and popular. Each Patriarch claimed to represent St. Mark and the only true church; today, each is represented by a Patriarch in Alexandria. Occasionally, an Emperor attempted to mend the rift and made concessions to the Egyptian faith. But the division was racial, while the concessions were theological, so nothing was accomplished. Egypt was only maintained for the Empire by Greek garrisons, which meant that when the Arabs arrived, they easily conquered it.

We are now getting close to the disaster. Its details, while dramatic, are confusing. It happened during the time of Emperor Heraclius, and we should start by taking a look at his interesting career.

53Heraclius was a skilled and emotional man—very emotional, deeply affected by his own moods. Sometimes he comes across as a hero, a great administrator; other times he seems like an indifferent recluse. He gained his empire in 610 through warfare; then, in reaction, he let the Persians take control of Syria and Egypt almost without resistance. Alexandria fell due to betrayal. It was secure on the seaward side since the Persians had no navy, and its massive walls made it invulnerable from land attacks; their army (camped near Mex) could burn monasteries but couldn’t do much else. However, a foreign student—named Peter—made contact with them and revealed the details of the city’s layout. A canal ran through Alexandria from the Western Harbour, just north of the current Mahmoudieh canal, and it passed under a bridge on the Canopic Way (now known as Sidi Metwalli Street). The harbor entrance of the canal was unguarded, and following Peter’s advice, a few Persians disguised themselves as fishermen and rowed in; then they walked west along the Canopic Way and opened the Gate of the Moon for the main army (617). Their rule wasn't brutal; even though they were sun-worshippers, they didn’t persecute orthodox Christians or Copts. For five years, Heraclius did nothing; then he broke free from his lethargy and achieved remarkable feats. He marched against the Persian armies in Asia, defeated them, and reclaimed the relic of the True Cross that they had taken from Jerusalem. Alexandria and Egypt were liberated, and during the festival of the Exaltation of the Cross—memorialized on his coins—the Emperor emerged as the protector of Christendom and the greatest ruler in the world. It’s unlikely that, in his moment of triumph, he paid any attention to the envoys of an obscure Arab Sheikh named Mohammed, who came to congratulate him on his victory and suggested that he adopt a new religion called "Peace" or "Islam." Reports say he politely dismissed them. The same Sheikh also sent envoys to the imperial viceroy in Alexandria. He too was polite and sent back a gift that included an 54ass, a mule, a bag of money, some butter and honey, and two Coptic maidens. One of them, Mary, became the Sheikh’s favorite concubine. Thus began our interactions with Islam.

Heraclius, now at the peak of his power and with a sharp mind, turned his attention to the religious issue. He wanted his empire to be united spiritually, just as it was physically, and especially aimed to end the conflict in Egypt. He wasn’t a bigot; he believed in tolerance and sought a solution that would satisfy both the orthodox and the Copts—those for and against the Council of Chalcedon. This turned out to be a disastrous endeavor. It would have been better if he had left things as they were. The solution he found—Monothelism—was so unclear that no one could grasp it, and the person he chose to explain it was a cynical bully who didn’t even want it to be understood. This man was Cyrus, sometimes referred to as the Mukaukas, the evil influence in Egypt and Alexandria. Cyrus was appointed both Patriarch and Imperial Viceroy. He arrived in 631, made no effort to reconcile or even explain, persecuted the Copts, tried to kill the Coptic Patriarch, and after ten years of rule had set the stage for Egypt's downfall. There was a Greek garrison in Alexandria and another south of modern-day Cairo in a fort called “Babylon.” There were also some other forces in the Delta, and the fleet controlled the sea. But the majority of the people were opposed. Heraclius ruled through violence, though he didn’t realize it; the reports Cyrus sent him never conveyed the truth. In fact, he paid little attention to them; he was paralyzed by a new fear: Mohammedanism. His nerves failed him again, just like during the Persian invasion. Syria and the Holy Places were lost to the Empire once more, this time for good. Broken in health and spirit, the Emperor returned to Constantinople, where, shortly before his death, Cyrus brought the news that Egypt had been lost as well.

What happened was this. The Arab general Amr had invaded Egypt with an army of 4,000 horsemen. Amr was not just a great general; he was also an administrator, a delightful companion, and a poet—one of the most skilled and charming individuals that Islam has ever seen. He would have stood out in any time period; he is even more remarkable in an era that was rigidly focused on theology. Riding into Egypt along the coast where Port Said is located now, he quickly moved up the Nile, defeated an imperial army at Heliopolis, and laid siege to the fort of Babylon. Cyrus was inside it. His character, much like the Emperor’s, had crumbled. He realized that no native Egyptian would resist the Arabs, and he might have felt, like many of his peers, that Christianity was doomed, that its complexities were fated to fade away before the simplicity of Islam. He negotiated a peace deal, which the Emperor was supposed to confirm. Heraclius was furious and recalled him to Constantinople. But the damage had been done; all of Egypt, except for Alexandria, had been surrendered to the heathens.

Alexandria was definitely safe. First of all, the Arabs didn’t have any ships, and Amr, despite his bravery, wasn’t the type to build one. “If a ship is still,” he writes, “it tears at the heart; if it moves, it frightens the imagination. On it, a man’s power always diminishes and disaster increases. Those inside it are like worms in a log, and if it turns over, they drown.” Alexandria had nothing to fear from such an enemy on the sea, and on land, what could he do against her magnificent walls, defended by all the tools of military science? Amr, though strong, had no artillery. His forces were purely cavalry. So, there was no real concern when a force was seen approaching from the southeast and camping somewhere beyond the current Nouzha Gardens. Additionally, the Patriarch Cyrus was back and had held a large service in the Caesareum, urging the Christians to take up arms. Honestly, it’s hard to understand why Alexandria fell. There was no physical reason for it. One could almost say she fell because she lacked spirit. Cyrus, for the second time, betrayed his trust. He negotiated again with the Arabs, just like in Babylon, and on Nov. 8th, 641, signed an armistice with them, during which the Imperial garrison evacuated the city. Amr didn’t impose harsh terms; cruelty didn’t suit him nor was it wise. Those residents who wanted to leave could do so; the rest could worship as they pleased in exchange for paying tribute.

The following year, Amr entered triumphantly through the Gate of the Sun that marked the eastern end of the Canopic Way. Little had been damaged so far. Marble colonnades stretched before him, the Tomb of Alexander rose to his left, and the Pharos stood to his right. His sensitive and generous spirit might have been touched, but the message he sent to the Caliph in Arabia was quite straightforward. “I have taken,” he writes, “a city that has 4,000 palaces, 4,000 baths, 400 theaters, 1,200 greengrocers, and 40,000 Jews.” The Caliph received the news with equal indifference, merely rewarding the messenger with a meal of bread, oil, and a few dates. This indifference was not calculated. The Arabs could not grasp the value of their prize. They understood that Allah had given them a large, strong city, but they could not realize that there was no other city like it in the world, that the science of Greece had designed it, and that it had been the intellectual birthplace of Christianity. Legends of a distant Alexander and a more distant Cleopatra might linger in their minds, but they lacked a historical awareness; they could never comprehend what had taken place in this spot or how naturally the city of the double harbor should have developed between the lake and the sea. So, even though they had no intention of destroying it, they ultimately did, much like a child might ruin a watch. It wouldn’t function again for over 1,000 years.

One or two details are needed to finish this overview of the conquest. It was a humane event, and no property was harmed; the library that the Arabs are typically blamed for destroying had already been destroyed by the Christians. A few years later, however, some damage did occur. Backed by an Imperial fleet, the city rebelled, and Amr had to retake it by force. There was a massacre that he prevented by sheathing his sword; the Mosque of Amr, also known as the Mosque of Mercy, was built on that site. As governor of Egypt, he managed it well, but his interests were inland, not by the unpleasant coastline, so he founded a city near the fort of Babylon—Fostat, the seed of modern Cairo. This is where all future life would center. This is also where Amr himself would die. As he lay on his couch, a friend asked him: “You’ve often said you’d like to find an intelligent person at death's door and ask them how they feel. So, I pose that question to you.” Amr replied, “I feel as if heaven is right above me and the earth below, and I am caught in between, breathing through the eye of a needle.” There’s something in this exchange that transports us to a new world; it could never have happened between two Alexandrians.

Such were the main physical events in the city during the Christian Period. Now we need to focus on another, more important aspect: the spiritual.

When Cleopatra died and Egypt became part of the Roman Empire, it seemed like Alexandria's glory had come to an end. Her life had revolved around the Ptolemies, who had enriched her with architecture, scholarship, and music, and when they were gone, what was left? She was just a provincial capital. But a city's vitality isn't measured that way. There’s a kind of splendor that kings can’t give and can’t take away, and just when she lost her outward independence, she found the inner kingdom that truly mattered. Three groups of her citizens—Jews, Greeks, and Christians—were drawn to the same spiritual challenge and sought to solve it in similar ways.

The Problem. The thinkers in Alexandria never questioned, like some of their ancient Greek predecessors, whether God existed at all. They took his existence for granted. Instead, they were concerned about his relationship with the universe and, especially, with humanity. Was God near us? Or was he distant? If he was near, how could he also be infinite, eternal, and all-powerful? And if he was distant, how could he possibly care about humanity, and why would he have bothered to create us? They wanted God to be both near and far.

The Solution. Indigenous people deal with such issues by believing in two gods—a small idol they hit when they get frustrated, and a distant spirit in the sky. They don’t try to figure out any connection between the two. The educated people of Alexandria, however, couldn’t accept such simplistic ideas. Instead, they believed there was an intermediate being or beings between God and humans, who connect the universe and make sure that even though God is far away, He still feels close. They gave this intermediate being different names and assigned various levels of dignity and power to him. They became as convinced of his existence as they were of God’s, because in philosophy, they were more mystical than scientific, and as soon as they came up with a comforting explanation of the universe, they didn’t bother to question if it was actually true.

After this introduction, let’s dive into the three main sections of Alexandrian thought.

The center of the Jewish community was Jerusalem, where they developed their worship of Jehovah and built his unique temple. However, once Alexandria was established, they began moving to the prosperous and appealing city, settling near what is now Ibrahimieh. Soon, a generation emerged that spoke Greek. The Hebrew Scriptures needed to be translated for them, and according to legend, Ptolemy Philadelphus confined seventy rabbis in seventy separate huts on the island of Pharos, from which they all came out simultaneously with seventy identical translations of the Bible. This became the famous Septuagint version—actually created over many years and not finished until B.C. 130.

But the new generation was Greek in both spirit and language, and they increasingly diverged from the conservative Jews in Jerusalem. Both groups worshipped Jehovah, but the Alexandrians became more aware of the harshness and inaccessibility of their national god. Their thoughts mixed with their worship. How could they connect Jehovah to humanity? Using a few hints from the traditional scriptures, they produced their first attempt, a beautiful piece of literature called “The Wisdom of Solomon,” which is currently included in the Apocrypha. The author, whose name is unknown, not only wrote in Greek but also studied Stoic and Epicurean Philosophy alongside Egyptian rituals. He embodied the cosmopolitan culture of Alexandria. To address his dilemma in the Alexandrian way, he imagined an intermediary between Jehovah and man, whom he called Sophia or Wisdom.

63Wisdom is more powerful than any action: she moves through everything because of her purity. Being one, she can do all things, and throughout all ages, she enters into holy souls, making them friends of God and prophets. She is more beautiful than the sun and all the stars; when compared to light, she shines even brighter. Night may follow, but wrongdoing will not overcome wisdom.

In this passage, Wisdom is more than just “being wise.” She is a messenger who connects us and makes us friends with God.

In Philo, the Jewish school of Alexandria reaches its peak. Not much is known about his life. His brother led the Jewish community there, and he was sent (A.D. 40) on a failed mission to the erratic Emperor Caligula in Rome.

Being an orthodox Jew, he expresses his philosophical dilemma in the language of the Old Testament. So:—

Jehovah said, "I am who I am"—which means that nothing can be said about God except that He exists. God has no qualities, no desires, no physical form, and no place He resides. We can't even call God “God” because “God” is just a word, and no word can truly capture who God is. To think of Him as a man is to make “a mistake greater than the ocean.” God IS, and that’s all that can be said about Him.

Yet this distant being has created us. How? And why?

Through his Logos or Word. This Logos of Philo is, like “Wisdom,” a messenger who connects the gap. He is the visible expression of God’s existence. He created and sustains the world, and Philo uses the actual language of devotion about him, calling him Israel the Seer, the Dove, the Dweller in the Inmost—a language that naturally recalls and possibly inspired the opening of St. John’s Gospel. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.” Philo might have written this. But he could not have written “the Word was God” nor “the Word was made flesh” for it was, as we will see, the unique aspect of Christianity to conceive that the connection between Man and God should be himself both God and Man. 64

By this concept of the Logos, Philo made the Hebrew Jehovah understandable and acceptable to the Alexandrian Jews. This idea isn’t found in the Old Testament, and to uncover it, he had to use allegory and twist words from their original meanings. This gives his philosophy a cold, timid feel and obscures its true greatness. Only once or twice does he break free and claim that the path to truth isn’t through allegory but through vision. “Those who can see,” he proclaims, “lift their eyes to the heavens and contemplate the Manna, the divine Logos. Those who can’t see look at the onions in the ground.” After his death, the Jews of Alexandria didn’t advance in philosophy any further. They had identified the problem. The restatement was for the Greeks and the Christians.

The Ptolemies brought in some Greek philosophers to work at the Mouseion, but they were mediocre. It wasn't until the Ptolemies were gone and the city itself was in decline that philosophy truly took hold and developed into the mystical, white rose of Neo-Platonism. This emerged from a teaching of Plato’s. Six hundred years earlier, Plato had taught in Athens that our world is an imperfect copy of an ideal world. He had shared other ideas as well, but this was the central doctrine that the “New Platonists” of Alexandria embraced and explored to profound, mystical conclusions. While Plato had critiqued this world as a philosopher, he had cherished it as a citizen and a poet, leaving behind charming descriptions in his dialogues. The Neo-Platonists were more rational. Since they viewed this world as flawed, they considered it insignificant, excluding all references to everyday life from their writings. They might seem like disembodied spirits, detached from place and time, but after careful study, we realize they were human too—indeed, they were typically Alexandrian, representing the highest expression of the later city. 65

The School was established by Ammonius Saccas, who started out as a dockworker and a Christian but left both paths to study Plato. There’s little known about his teaching, but he had remarkable students—Longinus, Origen, and, most notably, Plotinus. Plotinus was likely born in Assiout; however, no one could confirm it for sure because he was secretive about it, claiming that the descent of his soul into his body was a great misfortune he preferred not to discuss. He completed his main education in Alexandria and then participated in a military campaign against Persia to engage with Persian thought (Zoroastrianism) and Indian thought (Hinduism, Buddhism). He must have been an odd soldier and certainly an unsuccessful one, as the expedition ended in defeat, nearly freeing him from the burden of having a body. After escaping, he made his way to Rome, where he stayed until the end of his life, giving lectures. Despite his genuine approach, he became trendy, and the psychic abilities he developed not only granted him the Mystic Vision—his philosophical goal—on four occasions, but also helped him find a necklace stolen from a wealthy woman by one of her slaves. He was indifferent to writing; after his death, his student Porphyry compiled his lecture notes and published them in nine volumes known as the “Enneads.” The Enneads are poorly organized and often unclear. However, they contain a logical system of thought that deserves attention—nothing greater came out of Alexandria. They also tackle the usual Alexandrian issue of connecting God and Man.

Like Philo and the Christians, Plotinus believes in God, and since his God has three levels, we could almost say he believes in a Trinity. However, it’s quite different from the Christian Trinity and even harder to understand. The first and highest level is called the One. The One is Unity, the One. Nothing else can be said about it, not even that it exists; it’s more incomprehensible than the Jehovah of Philo; it has no qualities, no creative power; it’s good only as the ultimate goal of our aspirations. But even though it doesn’t create, it overflows (a bit like a fountain), and from this overflow or emanation, the second level of the Trinity—the “Intellectual Principle”—is generated. The Intellectual Principle is a bit easier to grasp than the “One” because it has a distant connection to our lives. It represents the Universal mind that contains—not all things, but all thoughts of things, and by thinking, it creates. It thinks of the third level—the All Soul—which then comes into existence. With the All Soul, we approach the realm of what we can comprehend. It’s the source of the Universe we know. Everything we perceive through our senses was created by it—the Gods of Greece, for instance, followed by demigods and spirits, and then, descending the hierarchy, ourselves, animals, plants, and stones; matter, which seems so important to us, is actually the last and weakest emanation of the All Soul, the point where creative power stops. These three levels, the “One,” the “Intellectual Principle,” and the “All Soul,” together make up a single being, God; who is three in one and one in three, and the ultimate goal of all creation.

So far, Plotinus's system might seem both unappealing and complicated; now we need to explore the more emotional aspect. Not only does everything come from God, but everything also seeks to return to Him; in other words, the entire Universe has a natural tendency toward good. We are all parts of God, even the stones, although we may not realize it; and humanity's goal is to become truly divine, as we are potentially. Therefore, rebirth is allowed so that we can understand God better in a future life than we can in this one; and that's why the Mystic Vision is possible, so that we can catch a glimpse of God even in this life. God is our true self, and in one of the few literary passages in the Enneads, Plotinus's style comes alive with his ideas, teaching us in beautifully expressive language how we can achieve this Vision.

But what should we do? What is the path? How can we attain the vision of the unreachable Beauty, existing as if in sacred spaces, separate from the common paths where everyone can see?

“Let’s escape to our beloved homeland.” This is the best advice. But what does the escape look like? How do we reach the open sea?

The Fatherland is where we originated, and that is where the Father is.

What should we do next, how should we take off? This isn’t a journey for our feet; feet just take us from one place to another. You need to ignore all of that and stop noticing it; you have to shut your eyes and instead awaken another kind of vision within you, a vision that belongs to everyone, but only a few can truly see.

Withdraw into yourself and reflect. And if you don’t see your beauty yet, do what a sculptor does to create something beautiful; he chisels here, he smooths there, he refines this line, clarifies that one, until a lovely face emerges from his work.

When you realize that you've become this perfect creation, when you are centered in the purity of your being, with nothing left that can break that inner unity—when you recognize that you've reached this point, you have become pure vision; now summon all your confidence, take another step forward—you don't need a guide anymore—just take another step forward—you don't need a guide anymore—push yourself and see.

This is the only eye that can see true Beauty. If the eye that tries to see is clouded by vice, impurity, or weakness, then it sees nothing, even if someone points out what is clearly in front of it. To perceive anything, the eye must be suited to what it aims to see and share some resemblance to it. No eye has ever seen the sun unless it first became sun-like, and the soul will never perceive the ultimate Beauty unless it is beautiful itself.^[4]

68This profound passage prompts three observations, which conclude our examination of Plotinus. First, its tone is spiritual, and this reflects the essence of all Alexandrian philosophy. Second, it emphasizes conduct and preparation; the Supreme Vision can’t be achieved through tricks—only those who are truly prepared will experience it. Lastly, the understanding of oneself and the understanding of God are essentially the same because every individual is God, if only they recognized it. This highlights the key difference between Plotinus and Christianity. The Christian promise is that a person will see God, while the Neo-Platonic view—similar to the Indian perspective—is that a person will become God. Perhaps, along the docks of Alexandria, Plotinus engaged with Hindu traders who visited the city. In any case, his philosophy can be compared to the spiritual texts of India. He comes closer than any other Greek philosopher to Eastern thought.

Porphyry, a devoted student of Plotinus, was also a notable philosopher, and the Neo-Platonic School continued to thrive throughout the 4th century. Its core belief remained consistent; it was pessimistic about the actual world and human beings, but optimistic about the future because it held that the world and everything in it originated from God and was given the ability to return to Him. It acknowledged the presence of Evil but did not see it as existing eternally, making it a practical source of support for its followers, and it supported the last of them, Hypatia, during her martyrdom.

Thus wrote an unknown admirer at the beginning of the 5th Century. None of Hypatia’s works have been preserved, but we know that with her and her father, Theon, the great tradition of Plotinus came to an end at Alexandria.

Percolating through the Jewish communities, Christianity reached Egypt as early as the 1st century A.D. When it arrived, it found two distinct forms of spiritual life already established there.

The first was the spiritual life of Ancient Egypt, which had been rooted in the Nile valley for over 4,000 years. It had lasted so long that even though Christianity closed its temples, it never fully removed it from the hearts of the people. The resurrection of Osiris as the Sun God; the way the blessed in the underworld consumed him as the Corn God; the nurturing figure of mother Isis with her child Horus; the same Horus as a young warrior defeating the snake-like Set; the key-shaped “ankh” that the gods and goddesses carried as a symbol of their immortality—these symbols had become too ingrained in the minds of native Egyptians to be erased by church edicts. As a result, there were instances of reversion—like in Menouthis (near Aboukir) in 480, when some villagers were found worshipping the ancient deities in a private home. There were also cases of blending, where the old religion gradually merged into the new one. Did Christianity take inspiration from the Osiris cult for its beliefs in Resurrection and Personal Immortality, and its sacrament of the Eucharist? This idea has been suggested. It’s more certain that it adopted much of its symbolism and popular art. Isis and Horus transformed into the Virgin and Child, Horus and Set became St. George and the Dragon, while the “ankh” appears unchanged on some Christian tombstones as a looped cross, and slightly altered on others as a cross with a handle.

70The second type of spiritual life was the life of Alexandria. Its characteristics (mainly Hellenic and philosophical) have already been mentioned. At first, Christianity wasn’t philosophical; it was aimed at the poor and less fashionable people in Palestine. But once it arrived in Alexandria, its character changed, marking a turning point in its worldly journey. The people of Alexandria were highly educated, with libraries full of the wisdom of the Mediterranean, and their faith naturally took on a philosophical form. Concerned with the relationship between God and Man, they immediately posed the same question about this new religion as they had to the Jews and Greeks—namely, What is the connection? Philo spoke of the Logos, while Plotinus referred to the Emanations. The new religion answered with “Christ.” There was nothing surprising to the Alexandrians in such a response. Christ was also the Word; he too came from the Father. His incarnation and his redemption of humanity through suffering—even these ideas were not unfamiliar to people who were used to “divine” kings and familiar with the myths of Prometheus and Adonis. Both Alexandrian orthodoxy and heresies revolved around the problem that was well-known in Alexandrian paganism—the relationship between God and Man.

Thus Christianity didn’t suddenly appear in Egypt or Alexandria like a clap of thunder, but quietly entered the ears that were already ready for it. On both the popular and philosophical sides, it wasn’t a belief that was separate. Politically, though, it stood out as something new, by rejecting the idea of divinity associated with the Imperial Government in Rome.

Gnosticism taught that the world and humanity are the result of a terrible mistake. God neither created us nor wanted us to exist. We are the creation of a lesser god, the Demiurge, who mistakenly thinks he is God, and we are destined to deteriorate. However, God, even though not responsible for our existence, felt compassion for it and sent Christ to counter the ignorance of the Demiurge and to offer us Gnosis (knowledge). Christ is the connection between the divine and that unfortunate error we call humanity.

The Gnostics interpreted this idea in various ways. Cerinthus (who was educated here) taught that Jesus was just a man, and Christ was a spirit that left him at death. Basilides (a visitor from Syria) argued that there were three stages of belief: pre-Jewish, Jewish, and Christian, each with its own leader who had a son that understood more about God than his father did. The Ophites worshipped snakes because they believed the serpent in Eden was actually a messenger from God, encouraging Eve to defy the Demiurge Jehovah. As a result, if we want to be good, we must be bad—a conclusion that Carpocrates also reached, although through a different approach, as he established an Abode of Love on one of the Greek islands. These figures are all dubious charlatans. However, one Gnostic—Valentinus—was of a different caliber, and his philosophy carries a rare tragic quality in Alexandria.

Valentinus (likely from Egypt; educated here; primarily taught in Rome) held the typical Gnostic belief that creation is a mistake. However, he sought to explain how this mistake happened. He envisioned a primal God, the center of a divine harmony, who sent out manifestations of himself in pairs, male and female. Each pair was less perfect than the one before, with Sophia (“wisdom”), the female of the thirtieth pair, being the least perfect of all. She displayed her imperfection not by rebelling against God like Lucifer, but by wanting too desperately to be united with him. She fell due to love. Cast out from divine harmony, she descended into matter, and the universe was formed from her suffering and regret. She was rescued by the first Christ, but not before she had given birth to a son, the Demiurge, who governs this world of sorrow and confusion and cannot grasp anything beyond it. In this world, there are three classes of people, all looking the same: people of the Body, the Spirit, and the Soul. The first two belong to the Demiurge and should obey him. The third group is actually the chosen ones of his mother Sophia. He rules them but cannot make them obey. It was for their salvation that the Christ we call Jesus descended directly from the primal God and left behind with his twelve disciples the secret tradition of the Gnosis.

With Valentinus, the Gnosticism of Alexandria peaked. Further east, it evolved into different forms. By 150 A.D., it had spread throughout the Mediterranean and posed a serious challenge to orthodox Christianity. However, it was pessimistic, imaginative, and esoteric—three major hurdles to its success. It wasn't a belief system that any society could embrace, as it was anti-social, and by the time of Constantine, its popularity had faded.

Orthodoxy in Alexandria didn't start out clearly defined; in fact, the more we examine it, the more it blends into its context. It took on Philo's idea of the Logos and equated the Logos with Christ. It shared a quest for knowledge of God with Gnosticism while asserting that such knowledge didn't have to be secretive. It had its own special Gospel—St. Mark’s—but other Gospels, 73 which were later deemed uncanonical, were also read in its churches, like the Gospels of the Hebrews and the Egyptians. It was influenced by Greek thought—Neo-Platonists became Christians, and the other way around. But one key doctrine it did hold was the ultimate significance of Christ. Christ was the “Word” made flesh, through whom the love and power of God could only be “known.” Early theologians weren't preoccupied with questions about Christ’s nature. Their focus was on bearing witness, not dissecting. A sense of joy permeates their endless writings, and it’s possible to sense the faith that strengthened the martyrs, their contemporaries, through their elaborate expressions.

Clement of Alexandria (likely a Greek from Athens) was the head of the major theological college here. His challenge, similar to that of the Jews before him, was to present his religion to a sophisticated and philosophical city, and his approach foreshadows that of today's advanced missionaries. He doesn't reject Greek philosophy; instead, he argues that it prepares people for the Gospel, just like the Jewish law does, insisting that everything that happened before Christ's birth was a divine lead-up to that pivotal event. Knowledgeable and enlightened, he set Christianity on a course that it didn’t stay on for long. He brought it out of intellectual obscurity, added a touch of Hellenic influence for a while, and the elegance of Greece seems to blend well with the Grace of God in his writings.

The greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven is the one who acts and teaches like God, demonstrating grace freely, just as He does; because God's gifts are meant for everyone's benefit.

Only in Alexandria could such a theologian have come about.

His work was continued by his student Origen, the most unusual and adventurous of the Early Fathers. Gentle and scholarly by nature, Origen had an instinct for self-sacrifice that troubled both his life and the lives of his friends. He was an Egyptian (the name is linked to Horus), born to Christian parents, and as a boy, he attempted to share in his father's martyrdom at the Temple of Serapis. After a time of calm, he supported his mother and brothers, and was a fellow student with Plotinus. Eventually, he became the head of the Theological College, and after gaining fame as a teacher and lay preacher, he castrated himself (a “Eunuch for the Kingdom of Heaven’s sake.”—Matt. xix, 12). His patron, the Bishop of Alexandria, rejected him for this and decided that he could not take orders; other bishops argued that he could, leading to a bizarre controversy that divided the Christian communities. Origen was considerate and even regretful; he had no desire to cause a scandal, and when ordered to leave Alexandria, he complied. However, his views often leaned towards controversy; like Plotinus, he believed in pre-existence, he didn’t believe in the eternity of punishment, and orthodoxy has received him into its fold with great reluctance. Primarily, he developed the theory of his mentor Clement—that Christianity is the heir of the past and the interpreter of the future—and he taught that Christ has been with humanity not only at his incarnation but since the beginning of creation, connecting them with God according to their capacity throughout all ages.

Thus, the main feature of early orthodoxy was the belief in Christ as the connection between God and humanity. This was a humanizing belief shaped by Greek scholars who refined and broadened the simpler faith from Palestine, incorporating doctrines from Paganism. We must now observe its hardening and transformation. Various factors contributed to this transformation—like the rise of an uninformed monasticism in Egypt, the emergence of a more somber form of Christianity in Northern Africa under Tertullian, and the general aggressive spirit the new religion exhibited once Constantine made it official. However, there was one factor inherent in the belief itself that concerns us here. Christ was the Son of God. Everyone agreed on this. But what was the Nature of Christ? The thoughtful minds of Alexandria posed this question around the year 300, leading to the Arian heresy. They raised it again around 400, resulting in the Monophysite heresy. A third inquiry around 600 produced another heresy, the Monothelite. Let’s take a look at these three in order. While viewed as heresies by others, they saw themselves as orthodox. Each believed it was the sole interpreter of the connection that binds God to humanity.

Christ is the Son of God. So isn't he younger than God? Arius believed he was, and that there was a time before time began when the First Person of the Trinity existed and the Second did not. A typical theologian from Alexandria, focused on the favorite issue of connecting the human and divine, Arius aimed to solve the problem by making the link primarily human. He didn't deny Christ's divinity, but he did view him as inferior to the Father—of similar substance, not of the same substance, which was the belief held by Athanasius, and deemed orthodox by the Council of Nicaea. Furthermore, the Arian Christ, similar to the Gnostic Demiurge, created the world; creation, being a lesser activity, was assigned to him by the Father, who had not created anything except for Christ.

It’s clear why Arianism gained popularity. By portraying Christ as younger and lesser than God, it made him feel closer to us—essentially reducing him to a regular good person and preempting Unitarianism. It resonated with those who didn’t delve into theology, appealing to emperors and even more to empresses. However, St. Athanasius, with his keen insight, recognized that while it made Christ more popular, it pushed God to the sidelines, and he fought against it fiercely. His efforts have been documented (p. 47). It was declared heretical in 325, and by the end of the century, it had been driven out of orthodox Christianity. The evidence of this ancient conflict has disappeared from Alexandria; the church of St. Mark, where Arius served as a presbyter, is gone, as are the churches where Athanasius preached—St. Theonas and the Caesareum. We don’t even know on which street Arius died from epilepsy. Yet, the conflict endures in people’s hearts, who often exaggerate the human aspect of the divine, and it’s likely that many individual Christians today are Arians without realizing it.

Christ is the Son of God, but also the Son of Mary. So, does he have two natures or just one? The Monophysites claimed “one.” They didn’t deny Christ’s incarnation, but they believed that the divine aspect had completely absorbed the human aspect. This question was first raised among clergy in Constantinople, but Alexandria strongly embraced it, and “Single Nature” became the rallying cry of Egypt. We have already seen (p. 51) the political significance of this heresy, how it was tied to a racial movement against the Greeks, and how, when it was condemned at Chalcedon (451), Egypt fell into permanent rebellion against the Empire. The Council declared that Christ had two natures, which are unmixed and unchangeable but at the same time indistinguishable and inseparable. This is the orthodox view—the one we adhere to. The Copts (and Abyssinians) remain Monophysites, and as a result, they are not in communion with the rest of Christendom.

As the minds of the Alexandrians deteriorated, their heresies became increasingly complex. Arianism presents a real issue that both the average person and the cleric can understand. Monophysitism is more distant. And Monothelitism is hard to express in theological terms, and nearly impossible to put into everyday language. It may show signs of neglect, for as we have seen (p. 54), it was created by Emperor Heraclius in his final desperate attempts to win over Egypt.

If Christ has one nature, then He obviously has one will. But what if He has two natures? How many wills does He have then? The Monothelites claimed “One.” The orthodox view, which we adhere to, is “Two—one human and the other divine, but both functioning together.” The issue is indeed complex, and we can easily imagine that the Alexandrians, who were facing the advancing Arabs, didn’t grasp Monothelism when it was quickly explained to them by a distracted general. However, it was not without its consequences. It failed as a compromise but continued to exist as a heresy. Long after the Imperial Government had rejected it and Egypt had come under Islamic rule, it was upheld in the highlands of Syria by the Maronite Church.

We have now seen Alexandria skillfully manage the different systems that came within her walls. The ancient religion of the Hebrews, the philosophy of Plato, the new faith from Galilee—she has taken each in turn, leaving her mark on them and drawing some response to her question, “How can humanity connect with the divine?”

It can be argued that everyone with a sense of religion should ask this question, and that it isn’t uniquely Alexandrian. But that’s not true; it doesn’t need to be asked; it was never asked by Islam, which spiritually and physically swept the city into the sea. “There is no God but God, and Mohammed is the Prophet of God,” Islam says, emphasizing the absence of a need for a mediator. The man Mohammed was chosen to reveal what God is like and what He desires, and from that point, all processes stop, allowing us to confront our Creator directly. We face Him as a powerful God, who may temper His justice with mercy, but who doesn’t lower Himself to the frailty of love, and we are quite satisfied that, being powerful, He remains distant. That old dilemma—how God should be both distant and close—doesn’t occur to an orthodox Muslim. It’s a concern for those who want God to be both loving and powerful, such as Christianity and its related beliefs, and it reflects both the weaknesses and strengths of Alexandria for having resolved it through the concept of a connection. Her weakness lies in the constant need to adjust that connection—if it got too close to God, it was too far from Man, and the other way around. Her strength stems from her adherence to the idea of Love, and a lot of philosophical nonsense and theological dryness must be forgiven to those who insist that the best thing on earth is likely to be the best in heaven.

Islam, powerful in its rejection of Love, was the one system that the city couldn't cope with. It offered no leeway for her manipulations. Her logoi, her emanations and aeons, her various Christs—whether orthodox, Arian, Monophysite, or Monothelite—were all dismissed as unnecessary clutter that only distracted the true believer from his God. The physical decline that began in the 7th century mirrored a spiritual decay. Amr and his Arabs were neither fanatics nor barbarians; they were about to establish a new Egypt near Cairo. But they instinctively recoiled from Alexandria; it appeared idolatrous and foolish to them, leading to a thousand years of silence that followed their arrival.

During the more than thousand years between the Arab conquest of Egypt and Napoleon's takeover, the history of Alexandria was more about geography than politics. Ignored by humans, the land and waters reshaped themselves, and if Alexander the Great had returned, he wouldn’t have recognized the coast. (i) The major change happened in the 12th century when the Canopic mouth of the Nile became blocked with silt. As a result, the freshwater lake of Mariout was no longer supplied by the Nile's floods, silted up, and became unnavigable. Alexandria was cut off from Egypt's entire river system and couldn't thrive until it was restored; it has always needed both freshwater and saltwater to survive. (ii) There was also a shift in the city’s layout: the Heptastadion, built by the Ptolemies to link the mainland with the island of Pharos, fell into disrepair and became the foundation for a large stretch of land that formed. Thus, Pharos changed from an island into a peninsula—the current Ras-el-Tin.

The Arabs, even though they allowed the city to deteriorate, held it in high esteem. One of them writes as follows:—

The city was bright white both at night and during the day. Because of the walls and pavements made of white marble, people tended to wear black clothing; it was the glare from the marble that caused the monks to wear black. It was also uncomfortable to go out at night ... a tailor could thread his needle without a light. No one went outside without something to cover their eyes.

A second writer describes the green silk awnings that were stretched over Canopic Way. A third, even more excitedly, exclaims:—

I’ve made the pilgrimage to Mecca sixty times, but if Allah had allowed me to spend a month in Alexandria and pray by its shores, that month would mean more to me.

81The Arabs were far from being barbarians; their impressive city of Cairo proves that point. However, their civilization was distinctly Eastern and tied to the land, making it disconnected from the Mediterranean culture that blossomed in Alexandria. Initially, they attempted to adapt it to fit their needs. The church of St. Theonas was incorporated into the vast “Mosque of the 1,000 Columns;” the church of St. Athanasius also became a mosque, with the current Attarine Mosque built on part of its site; and another mosque, the Mosque of the Prophet Daniel, was constructed on the Mausoleum of Alexander. Yet the Caesareum, the Mouseion, the Pharos, and the Ptolemaic Palace all fell into ruin. The city walls also deteriorated. Although the Arabs built new walls in 811, their limited extent underscores the decline of both the city and its population. (See map p. 98). They only surrounded a small part of the ancient city.

In 828, the Venetians, according to their own account, stole the body of St. Mark from Alexandria, hiding it first in a tub of pickled pork to avoid attention from the Muslim officials at the port. This theft was understandable since the Arabs never seemed to realize it had happened; it brought much satisfaction in Venice and caused no trouble in Alexandria. With St. Mark secured, there was little to draw the European world; the main ports of Egypt were now Rosetta (Bolbitiné Mouth of the Nile) and Damietta (Phatnitic Mouth); there was no reason to visit Alexandria now that its water system had fallen apart. Towards the end of Arab rule, it did regain some minor importance; the Mameluke Sultan of Cairo, Kait Bey, built the impressive fort that bears his name on the ruins of the Pharos in 1480. He constructed it as a defense against the rising naval power of the Turks. The Turks conquered Egypt in 1517, marking the start of a new but just as insignificant chapter in Alexandria's history.

Under the Turks, the population kept declining, making the small space within the Arab walls feel too large. A new settlement emerged on the land between the two harbors. It still exists and is called “Turkish Town.” It’s a second-rate place; just a row of houses mixed with small mosques; a poor imitation of Rosetta, where you can best study the architecture from these centuries. An insignificant place like this has no continuous history. The best we can do is quote a few travelers' isolated comments. (i) The English sailor, John Foxe, (1577) shares an entertaining story. He got captured by Turkish corsairs and imprisoned with his companions. With help from a friendly Spaniard, he planned a mutiny, took back his ship, and, in true British fashion, navigated it out of the Eastern Harbour while under fire from the guns at Kait Bey. (ii) John Sandys (1610) provides a quaint yet striking description of the decline:—

Such was this Queen of Cities and Metropolis of Africa: who now has nothing left but ruins; and those are poor reminders of its lost beauty, showing that cities, like people, have their times and destinies. Various mountains were made from the ruins, which Christians couldn’t climb, so they wouldn’t have too clear a view of the city; in which are often found, especially after a rain, beautiful stones and medals engraved with the images of their gods and people, with such artistry that the ones made today seem inferior and lifeless in comparison.

(iii). Captain Norden, a Danish man, (1757) was feeling irritated because the Turks wouldn't allow him to sketch the fortifications. The English community was already established, and the Captain’s description of it is both intriguing and difficult to read:—

They stay quiet and go about their business without causing much fuss. If there's a nice opportunity to be had, they step back and let the French take care of any challenges. When there are benefits, they benefit too, and if things go badly, they protect themselves as best as they can.

84(iv). Another irritated visitor arrived here in 1779—the lively yet spiteful Mrs. Eliza Fay. Being a Christian, she wasn't allowed to get off the boat in the Western Harbour or ride anything more majestic than a donkey. She visited Cleopatra’s Needles and Pompey’s Pillar, then wrote to her sister, “I definitely consider myself very lucky to be leaving this place so soon.” She doesn’t mention the English community, but she was entertained by the Prussian Consul and left a negative account of his plump wife.

There are some old maps, created from travelers' accounts, but they have little connection to reality. The map by Pierre Belon (1554) is shown on p. 83. Its main mistakes include the incorrect placement of the Nile and the outflow from Lake Mariout to the sea. It depicts the two harbors, the Arab walls, Cleopatra’s Needles, Pompey’s Pillar, and the Canopic or Rosetta Gate (Cairo Gate). The Turkish town hasn’t been built yet. De Monconys' map from 1665—see frontispiece—is even more ridiculous; Cleopatra’s Needle has become a pyramid. The mound in the right center represents Fort Cafarelli. The early stages of the Turkish Town are marked on Ras-el-Tin. In 1743, Richard Pocock published the first scientific map in his “Description of the East,” including measurements and soundings. Captain Norden from Denmark produced a good pictorial plan of the “New,” or Eastern harbor, showing the seamarks. The extent of Alexandria’s decline is illustrated in the impressive map published by the French expedition under Napoleon. It shows that the Arab enclosure is mostly empty except for a few houses on Kom-el-Dik and near the Rosetta Gate, and that the population—only 4,000—has crowded into the wall-less Turkish Town.

With Napoleon, a new era begins.

On July 1, 1798, the residents of the little-known town noticed that the once-deserted sea was now filled with a massive fleet. Three hundred sailing ships appeared from the west to anchor near Marabout Island, and men disembarked throughout the night. By the middle of the next day, 5,000 French soldiers under Napoleon had taken control of the area. They were part of a larger force, arriving under the guise of assisting Turkey, which was currently experiencing one of its weak and occasional uprisings against Egypt. The future Emperor was still just a general in the French Republic, but he already held sway in politics, and this expedition was his brainchild. He was infatuated with the East at that time. The allure of the Nile valley captivated his imagination, and he recognized it as the pathway to an even greater allure—India. At war with England, he envisioned seizing an Eastern territory at England's expense and reviving the legacy of Alexander the Great. Like Mark Antony, he found his imperial ambitions fueled by Alexandria. The expedition ultimately failed, but its memory lingered with him: he had experienced the East, the cradle of kings.

Leaving Alexandria immediately, he marched on Cairo and won the battle of the Pyramids. Then an irreversible disaster struck him. He had left his admiral, Brueys, with orders to secure the fleet as safely as possible since Nelson was known to be in pursuit. In today's conditions, Brueys would have sailed into the Western Harbour, but in 1798, the reefs at the entrance hadn’t been cleared, and while the transports managed to get in, the routes were quite risky for the large warships. Brueys was anxious and decided it would be better to move them to an anchorage he believed was secure in the Bay of Aboukir. Nelson followed him, attacked unexpectedly, and destroyed his fleet. 87Details of this famous engagement, known as the “Battle of the Nile,” are given elsewhere (p. 177); its outcome caused Napoleon to lose command of the sea. The French expedition took Cairo and remained strong on land, but could not receive reinforcements, no messages, and withered away like a plant that had been cut at the roots. Turkey declared against it, and a Turkish force, supported by British ships, landed at Aboukir (July 1799). Here, Napoleon was successful. He took command personally and in a series of brilliant battles, drove the invaders back into the sea: this is the “Land” battle of Aboukir (described in detail p. 179). But his dreams had been shattered by Nelson. He realized that his fate, whatever it was, would not be fulfilled in the East and, cowardly abandoning his army, he slipped back to France.

We now reach the first British expedition and its successful and engaging campaign. In March 1801, Sir Ralph Abercrombie landed with 1,500 men at Aboukir. His goal wasn't to occupy Egypt, but to persuade the French armies to leave. He marched west toward Alexandria, staying close to the sea. The landscape to his left was very different from today, and to understand his tactics, two key differences must be noted. (i) The “Lake of Aboukir,” which has since been drained, stretched from Aboukir Bay almost to Ramleh. It connected to the sea and was filled with salt water. (ii) The current Lake Mariout was almost dry. It had a little fresh water, but most of its large area was used for farming. It was twelve feet below Lake Aboukir and was separated from it by a dyke. So, Abercrombie saw water where we see land, and the other way around. He made good progress to Mandourah because Lake Aboukir protected his left flank. But when he wanted to attack the French position at Ramleh, he feared they would outflank him across the dry bed of Mariout. He had suffered heavy losses, his advance was stalled; after being shot in the thigh, he had to give up command and was carried to a boat where he died; a small monument at Sidi Gaber commemorates him today. His successor, Hutchinson, took decisive action. Following the advice of his engineers, he cut the dyke that separated Lake Aboukir from Mariout. The salt water surged in, much to the delight of the British soldiers, and within a month, thousands of acres were submerged, isolating Alexandria from the rest of Egypt and securing the left flank of the expedition all the way to the town's walls. Later in the year, a second British force landed west of Alexandria at Marabout, and caught between two attacks, the French were forced to surrender. They were offered favorable terms and allowed to leave Egypt with all the honors of war. The British followed them; we had achieved our goal and had no reason to stay any longer; we left the country to our allies, the Turks. However, the long sleep of centuries had been disturbed. The eyes of Europe were once again focused on the long-deserved shore. Although Napoleon had failed and the British had retreated, a new era had begun for Alexandria. Life surged back into the city, just as the waters did when Hutchinson breached the dyke, flowing back into Lake Mariout.

When Napoleon pushed the Turks into the sea at Aboukir, one of the escapees was Mohammed Ali, the founder of the current ruling family of Egypt. Not much is known about his background. He was an Albanian, born in Cavala, Macedonia, where he is said to have made a name for himself as a tax collector in his early years. His education was basic; he was unaware of history and economics and only learned the Arabic 89 alphabet later in life. However, he was a highly capable and powerful man with a sharp sense of character judgment. He reemerged in Egypt in 1801, still unknown, and fought under Abercrombie. When the British pulled out, he took advantage of the internal chaos and became the Viceroy of the country in 1805 under the Sultan of Turkey.

His power was solidified by the disastrous British expedition of 1807—General Frazer’s “reconnoitering” expedition, as it’s officially called. England was now hostile to Turkey, and Frazer was sent to see if a diversion could be created in Egypt. He landed, like Napoleon before him, at Marabout, but with only the following regiments: the 31st, the 35th, the 78th, and a foreign legion—4,000 men in total. He took control of Alexandria and Rosetta, but soon enough, Mohammed Ali had killed or captured half of his forces, and he was forced to ask for terms. These were quickly granted. The “reconnoitering” expedition was allowed to reembark, and the only reminder it left of its presence in Alexandria is a tombstone of a soldier from the 78th, in the courtyard of the Greek Patriarchate.

For thirty years, Mohammed Ali's power grew, and so did the significance of Alexandria, his unofficial capital. He liberated the Holy Places in Arabia from a heretical group, got involved in Greece, revolted against his overlord, the Sultan of Turkey, and by invading Syria, added it to his territory. A kingdom comparable in size to the Ptolemaic Empire was established with Alexandria at its center, and it seemed that the ambitions of Napoleon would be fulfilled by this Albanian newcomer, potentially severing English access to India. England became alarmed. Suddenly, Mohammed Ali's empire collapsed. Syria rebelled (1840), backed by a British fleet, and soon Admiral Sir Charles Napier arrived at Alexandria, forcing the Viceroy to limit himself to Egypt. According to tradition, their meeting took place in the new Ras-el-Tin Palace, where Napier exclaimed, “If Your Highness will not heed my unofficial plea against the foolishness of further resistance, all I can do is bombard you; by God, I will bombard you and drop my bombs right here in this room where you are sitting.” In any case, Mohammed Ali surrendered. He failed as a European power, but he ensured his family a comfortable principality in Egypt, where he was king in everything but name.

His internal policy was pretty shady. He admired European civilization because it made people aggressive and armed them, but he didn’t appreciate its more refined qualities, and his “reforms” were mostly just for show to impress visitors. He took advantage of the local farmers by paying them his own prices for grain: all of Egypt turned into his personal farm. That’s why the foreign communities in Alexandria were so important at this time; he needed their help to sell the produce in European markets. He won over the British and other consuls to act as his agents by allowing them to export Egyptian antiquities, which were becoming trendy; our own Consul Henry Salt—his tomb is here—was particularly guilty of this. He also gave away “Cleopatra’s Needles” to the British and American governments; these were the obelisks that still stood where they were outside the now-gone Caesareum, which would have added such dignity to our modern waterfront. Still, despite all his flaws, he did create the modern city, as it is. He waved his wand, and what we see emerged from the ancient soil. Let’s take a moment to examine it.

During the years 1798-1807, there were four expeditions that landed at or near Alexandria—one French, one Turkish, and two English. Egypt had once again become part of the European system. A maritime capital was needed, and Mohammed Ali understood that it could be found not in the medieval ports of Damietta and Rosetta, but in a restored Alexandria. The city we know today has developed along the plans he established, and it’s fascinating to compare his choices with those of Alexander the Great, over two thousand years earlier.

The main issue was the water. The English, by cutting the dykes in 1801, had refilled Lake Mariout, which suddenly regained its original size. However, it was too shallow for navigation and filled with saltwater instead of the previous fresh water: it provided no access to the Nile system. That system needed to be tapped. Alexander could find the Nile at Aboukir (Canopic Mouth); now it was as far away as Rosetta (ancient Bolbitic Mouth). As a result, Mohammed Ali had to build a 45-mile-long canal. This canal, named the Mahmoudieh after Mahmoud, the reigning Sultan of Turkey, was completed in 1820. It was poorly constructed, and the sides constantly collapsed, but it led to the immediate growth of Alexandria and the decline of Rosetta. Alexandria now had water communication with Cairo, along with rail connectivity. The Harbour followed. Mohammed Ali developed the Western Harbour, which had been less important in classical times. The current docks and arsenals were built for him (1828-1833) by the French engineer De Cerisy. A fleet was added. Also part of this plan was the impressive Ras-el-Tin Palace, which stood on a rise above the harbour and dominated it like the Ptolemaic Palace once dominated the Eastern; the Viceroy's favored residence indicated that his new kingdom was no longer just an oriental monarchy, but a modern power with its eyes set toward the sea.

Meanwhile, the town began to develop, but not in a very grand way. Houses started to pop up and streets spread out over the empty area inside the Arab Walls. Neither Mohammed Ali nor his friends in the Foreign Communities thought about the need for city planning. Their only accomplishment was a Square—and it's quite impressive—the Place des Consuls, now called Place Mohammed Ali. The English were given land to the north of the Square, where they built their church, while the French and the Greeks received land to the south; other communities, like the Armenians, also acquired areas. However, there was no effort to coordinate these various developments or to make use of the existing features of the site. These features included the sea, the lake, Pompey’s Pillar, the forts of Kom-el-Dik and Cafarelli, and the Arab Walls. The sea was overlooked except for commercial activities; the main roads still avoid the coastline, and even the nice New Quays aren't attracting any buildings. The lake was neglected even more; its delicate pale surface could have enhanced the southern areas, but many people don't even know it exists. Pompey’s Pillar, instead of being the focal point of roads, has been left in a spot where it’s least visible; you only get a distant view of it down the Rue Bab Sidra. The same goes for the two forts, which are tucked away behind buildings. The Arab walls have mostly been torn down, with remnants remaining in the eastern area where they have been repurposed (and well done) in the Public Gardens.

As Alexandria became bigger and wealthier, it needed suburbs. The first developments happened along the Mahmoudieh Canal, where the Villa Antoniadis and a few other nice houses were built. But as transportation improved, wealthy merchants found they could live farther away. They had two choices—Mex and Ramleh—and unfortunately, they chose the latter. Mex, with its beautiful natural features, could have become a lovely place; instead, it's been cut off from the town by a strip of slums, and a terrible tram service has pushed it even further away. Instead, the town has expanded to the east towards Ramleh, which was initially served by a railway and now has good electric trams.

93These are the main characteristics of Alexandria as it has developed under Mohammed Ali and his successors. It doesn't stack up well against the city of Alexander the Great. However, it's not worse than most cities in the nineteenth century. Plus, it has one huge advantage over them—a fantastic climate.

Thus, the city quietly developed under Mohammed Ali and his successors—one of whom, Said Pasha, is buried here. Attention shifted away from her with the construction of the Suez Canal, and it wasn't until 1882 that anything significant happened. In this year, she became involved with the rebellion of Arabi, the founder of the Egyptian Nationalist Party. Arabi, who was then Minister of War, was trying to assert control over the Khedive Tewfik and secure Egypt for the Egyptians. Alexandria, which had always had a foreign presence since its founding, was therefore his main opponent, and it was here that he launched the campaign against Europe that ultimately ended in his defeat at Tel-el-Kebir. The details—like Arabi’s motives—are complex. However, four stages can be identified.

June 11th Riot.

This started around 10 p.m. on the Sisters' Street; it’s reported that two donkey drivers, one Arab and one Maltese, got into a fight at a café, and others joined in. The rioters moved toward the Square, and at some 94crossroads near the Laban Caracol, the British Consul was nearly killed. Two other mobs joined them in the Square, one from the Attarine Quarter and one from Ras-el-Tin. British and other warships were in the harbor but didn’t take any action, and the Egyptian troops in the city refused to get involved without orders from Arabi, who was in Cairo. Eventually, a telegram was sent to him. He replied, and the chaos came to an end. There’s no reason to believe that he orchestrated the riot. Naturally, he used it to boost his reputation. He demonstrated to the foreign communities, especially the British, that he alone could provide them with protection. That evening, he returned to the city in triumph from Cairo. It's estimated that about 150 Europeans were killed that day, but we don’t have reliable numbers.

(ii). Bombing on July 11th.

British warships under Admiral Seymour had been in the harbor during the riot, but it took a month before they acted. First, the British residents had to be evacuated; second, the fleet needed reinforcements; and third, they were waiting for orders from home. Once Seymour was prepared, he picked a fight with Arabi and announced he would bomb the city if more guns were installed in the forts. Since Arabi refused to agree, he opened fire at 7:00 a.m. on July 11th. There were eight ironclads—six of them the most powerful in our navy. They were arranged as follows: Monarch, Invincible, and Penelope were positioned close to shore off Mex; Alexandra, Sultan, and Superb were off Ras-el-Tin; while the remaining two, Temeraire and Inflexible, were centrally located outside the harbor reef, halfway between Ras-el-Tin and Marabout; and off Marabout were some gunboats under Lord Charles Beresford. The bombardment was successful, even though Arabi’s gunners in the forts fought valiantly. In the evening, the Superb detonated the powder magazine in Fort Adda. Fort Kait Bey was also wrecked, and the minaret of its 15th-century mosque was seen “melting away like ice in the sun.” The town, however, was hardly damaged, as our gunners were precise in their aim. Arabi and his troops evacuated in the evening, marching out via Rosette Street to take up a position several miles further east, along the banks of the Mahmoudieh canal.

(iii). July 12th Riot.

Unfortunately, Admiral Seymour, after his success, never sent a force to maintain order, and the result was a riot that was far worse than the one in June. With the withdrawal of Arabi’s troops, the local population lost control. The Khedive had now cut ties with Arabi, but during the bombardment, he had moved from Ras-el-Tin Palace to Ramleh, and his authority was minimal. Pillaging continued all day on the 12th, and by evening the city was on fire. The damage was mostly material rather than artistic, with the one valuable object in the Square, the statue of Mohammed Ali, luckily escaping. Rues Chérif and Tewfik Pacha—indeed all the roads leading out of the Square—were destroyed, and almost every street in the European quarter was blocked by fallen and falling houses. Empty jewelry boxes and broken clocks littered the sidewalks. Every shop was looted, and by the time Admiral Seymour finally landed, his officers couldn't find any jam to buy; one of them noted this unfortunate situation, adding that in other ways, Alexandria, then engulfed in flames, was “doing okay.” In the meantime, the Khedive had returned to his Palace, and order was gradually restored. It’s unclear how many lives were lost in this avoidable tragedy.

(iv). Military Operations.

A large British force was sent under Lord Wolseley to the Suez Canal—the force that eventually defeated Arabi at Tel-el-Kebir. But until it reached Egypt, Alexandria was still at risk, as Arabi could launch an attack from his camp at Kafr-el-Dawar. So, the city needed to be defended from the east. In mid-July, General Alison arrived with a few troops, including artillery, and occupied the barracks at Mustapha Pacha, the hill of Abou el Nawatir, and the water works near the canal. This allowed him to keep an eye on Arabi's movements. He also had a second heavily fortified position at the gates of the Antoniadis Gardens in case he was attacked from the south. Here, he was able to hold out and harass the enemy's outposts until relief arrived. His losses were minimal; the regiments involved are honored by tablets in the English church. The next month, Wolseley arrived, and after inspecting the situation, he re-embarked his troops and pretended to land at Aboukir. Arabi was fooled and prepared to resist there. Wolseley steamed past him and landed at Port Said instead. This forced Arabi to break up his camp, and the threat to Alexandria was finally over.

Since the bombing in 1882, the city has faced other challenges, but they won’t be discussed here. There's no need for a conclusion, as Alexandria is still thriving and changing even as one tries to summarize her. Politically, she is now more connected to the rest of Egypt than ever before, but the old foreign influences remain, and it is to the oldest of these, the Greeks, that she owes the modern culture she has. Her future, like that of other major commercial cities, is uncertain. Except for the Public Gardens and the Museum, the Municipality has hardly fulfilled its historical responsibilities. The Library suffers from a lack of funding, the Art Gallery is not worth mentioning, and ties to the past have been recklessly severed—for instance, the name of the Rosette Street has been changed and the beautiful Covered Bazaar near the France Street has been destroyed. Material prosperity based on cotton, onions, and eggs seems secure, but not much progress can be seen in other areas, and neither the Pharos of Sostratus nor the Idylls of Theocritus nor the Enneads of Plotinus are likely to be matched in the future. Only the climate, the north wind, and the sea remain as pure as they were when Menelaus, the first visitor, landed at Ras-el-Tin three thousand years ago; and at night, the constellation of Berenice’s Hair still shines as brightly as it did when it captured the attention of Conon the astronomer.

Route:—Square, Rue Chérif Pacha, Rosette Street, going through the most up-to-date part of the town. No tram line.

Key points of Interest:—Square and Statue of Mohammed Ali; Banco di Roma; Mosque of the Prophet Daniel; St. Saba; Greco-Roman Museum.

The Square (officially, Place Mohammed Ali; formerly Consuls Square; known to cab drivers as “Menschieh” from the nearby Police Station) was created by Mohammed Ali as the center of his new city. (Around 1830; see p. 92). In Ptolemaic times, this area was underwater. The Square is over 100 yards wide and nearly 500 long, well landscaped, but surrounded by unremarkable buildings. It was damaged during the riots of 1882 (p. 95.); everything was burned except for the statue of Mohammed Ali and the Church of St. Mark.

In the center:—Equestrian Statue of Mohammed Ali, an impressive piece of French sculpture by Jacquemart, showcased in the Salon of 1872. Traditional Muslims opposed its installation, and even now, there is no inscription on it. Its presence is even more appreciated since it is one of the few top-notch attractions in the city. It should be examined from every perspective.

Right as one faces the Statue:—The Mixed Tribunals, where, according to agreements from 1875, civil and commercial cases between Egyptians and Europeans are heard.

Left:—The French Gardens, a lovely area, extending perpendicular from the Square to the New Quays, (p. 140).

Also left:—Anglican Church of St. Mark, which, along with the nearby St. Mark’s Buildings, was built on land granted to the English by Mohammed Ali. Looking through the railings of the churchyard, you'll see the quirky little bust of General Earle (k. 1885 at Kirbekan in the Soudan). It was put up by the European Community, 103 and represents their main attempt at contributing to art. The Church itself, given its age (1855) and its pseudo-Byzantine architecture, is decent enough. The interior is calming, and the stained glass and triptych in the chancel add a nice touch of color. Historically, its only connections are with the fight against Arabi in 1882 (p. 93). The regiments it honors are the 2nd Bn. Duke of Cornwall’s Light Infantry (on the scroll by the entrance stairs); 2nd Bn. Derbyshires; Royal Marine Artillery; 1st Bn. London Division; Royal Artillery 1st Bn. Royal West Kents (in the Nave). In the churchyard, there are numerous trees, and sparrows gather at sunset, filling the Square with their chatter.

End of the Square:—The Bourse, featuring an arched exterior and a clock. Inside is the Cotton Exchange, the main hub for Egyptian trade; the shouts and commotion heard here in the morning come not from a zoo but from the affluent merchants of Alexandria as they trade. At the far end of the same hall is the Stock Exchange. The entire scene is definitely worth a visit (introduction required).

Rue Chérif Pacha is a lively little street lined with flagpoles, extending left from the Square beside the Bourse. This area hosts the best shops. Near the end, on the left, at the entrance of Toussoum Pacha Street, stands the Banco di Roma, the most impressive building in the city. Designed by Gorra, it’s a modified replica of the famous Farnese Palace, created by Antonio da San Gallo and Michelangelo in the 16th century in Rome. The materials used are artificial stone and narrow bricks in a delightful pale red. It has two stories compared to the three of the Farnese, but there's a sort of half-story tucked under the heavy cornice. On either side of the door are intricate torch holders made of bent iron; above the door, there's the Wolf of Rome. In a diverse city like Alexandria, which has never developed its own architectural style, this replica of the Italian Renaissance seems perfectly fitting. A little further up Toussoum Street 104Pacha Club is the Land Bank of Egypt, featuring a nice semi-circular portico.

Rue Chérif Pacha then connects with Rosette Street.

This street, even with its modern look, is the oldest in the city. It follows the path of the Canopic Way, the main road of Alexander’s city, (p. 10), and during the Ptolemaic period, it was lined with marble columns from one end to the other. Its full name is “Rue de la Porte Rosette,” named after the Rosetta Gate in the old Arab walls that it led out of to the east (p. 81). The Municipality has recently renamed it the meaningless Fouad Premier Street, effectively severing one of the few connections that tied their city to its history.

At the entrance, on the right, are:—the Caracol Attarine (British Main Guard); the Cairo Train Station Road, which leads to the main railway station; and the Mohammed Ali Club, the main club in town—a small temple to Serapis once stood here. Cook’s office is also located here.

100 yards down, it’s crossed by the Rue Nebi Daniel and by a tram line. In ancient times, this was the main crossroads of the ancient city—one of the most glorious spots in the world (p. 10). Achilles Tatius, a bishop who wrote a somewhat foolish and inappropriate novel called Clitophon and Leucippe around A.D. 400, describes it this way:—

The first thing you notice when entering Alexandria through the Gate of the Sun (the Rosetta Gate) is how beautiful the city is. A line of columns stretches from one end to the other. As I walked along them, I eventually reached the area named after Alexander and could see the other half of the city, which was just as stunning. Just as the colonnades continued ahead of me, other colonnades appeared at right angles to them.

Thus, the tramway was once lined with marble.

Turning to the right, just a few yards up the Rue Nebi Daniel, we arrive at:—The Mosque of the Prophet Daniel 105 which is located on the site of Alexander’s tomb—the “Soma” where he and some of the Ptolemies are buried, following the Macedonian custom (p. 19). The cellars have never been investigated, and there's a rumor that Alexander still rests in one of them, undisturbed: a dragoman from the Russian Consulate, probably lying, claimed back in 1850 that he saw through a hole in a wooden door “a human body in a kind of glass cage with a crown on its head, half slumped on a sort of platform or throne. A bunch of books or papyrus were scattered around.” The current Mosque, although the main one in the city, isn’t particularly interesting; it features a paved walkway, a whitewashed door, and a vast interior supported by four colonnades with slightly pointed arches. The prayer niche faces south instead of the usual east. Everything has been ruthlessly restored. Stairs lead down to two tombs, attributed to the Prophet Daniel and the legendary Lukman the Wise; it’s unclear why or when this duo came to our city. The tombs are situated in a cross-shaped crypt, topped by a dome and accessible from the mosque through a door. Here and there, some decorations peek through the whitewash.

In a building to the right of the entrance to the Mosque are the Tombs of the Khedivial Family, which are worth checking out for their uniqueness; there's nothing like them in Alexandria. The Mausoleum is shaped like a cross, painted to look like marble, and covered with Turkish carpets. The tombs rise out of the carpet in various sizes but with a similar design, all painted in white and gold. A red tarboosh signifies a man, while a crown with stylized hair indicates a woman. The most notable person buried here is Said Pacha—the third tomb on the right. He was the son of Mohammed Ali and ruled Egypt from 1854 to 1863; Mohammed Ali himself is buried in Cairo.

Between the Mausoleum and the street:—a fountain with a roof and a dome; in Turkish style.

Opposite the Mosque:—some old columns used as gate posts; maybe the facade of the Museum extended along here (p. 17).

106Behind the Mosque:—Fort of Kom-el-Dik. View. Site of the ancient Paneum or Park of Pan—the top of the hill was shaped like a pinecone, which a winding path led up. In Arab times, the walls of the smaller city extended south of Kom-el-Dik, (p. 81), and a well-preserved section of them remains halfway between the base of the Fort and the train station; they line the road but are hidden from view since they are below ground level; they include a moat. Beyond the Fort, the elevated land continues; the small Arab neighborhood of Kom-el-Dik is built along its ridge, and the narrow streets, while modest, provide a pleasant contrast to the bright appearance of the European town.

We're back at Rue Rosette.

Further down the Rosette Street, a left turn leads to the Church and Convent of St. Saba, the home of the Greek Orthodox Patriarch. (For the history of the Patriarchate see p. 211). A church was established here in 615, on the site of a Temple of Apollo. The current structure dates back to 1687 and has a rare old-world charm in Alexandria. In the peaceful courtyard of the Convent are three gravestones of British soldiers from the Napoleonic era: Colonel Arthur Brice of the Coldstreams, who was killed at the Battle of Alexandria in 1801 (p. 88), Thomas Hamilton Scott of the 78th, and Henry Gosle, a military apothecary, who both died during General Frazer’s ill-fated “reconnoitering” expedition in 1807 (p. 89). —From the courtyard, steps lead down to the church, which has been poorly restored. Inside the nave, eight ancient granite columns are now covered in chocolate paint. In the sanctuary's apse, there's a fresco of the Virgin and Child. To the right is the Chapel of St. George, featuring a table thought to be from the 4th century and an interesting depiction of the Council of Nicaea (p. 48), with Emperor Constantine presiding over the bishops and the heretic Arius at his feet. To the left is the Chapel of St. Catherine of Alexandria, containing a block of marble claimed to be from the column where the saint was martyred. —Three beautiful bells hang outside the church.

107At the end of the street, on the left, is the Greek Hospital, a charming building set in a garden.

The Rue Rosette now runs past the Native Courts (to the left) and leads to the Municipal Buildings. Just a short walk up the Museum Street, behind those buildings, you’ll find the Municipal Library; go up the steps across from the entrance gate and open the door. The Library is decent considering its poor funding; the city that once boasted the greatest Library in the world can now spend only £300 a year for buying and binding its books.

Beyond the library is a much better place—the Greco-Roman Museum.

The collection wasn't put together until 1891, by which time most of the antiques in the area had been privately owned. So, it's not top-notch, and there's not much in it that's exceptionally beautiful. If used the right way, it has great value, but a visitor who just walks through it will likely feel that it has drained him, leaving only a vague memory of tiredness. The lack of color and the many small displays in terracotta and limestone might bring him down and create a misleading impression of a civilization that, despite its flaws, wasn't boring. He shouldn't visit the collection until he has learned or imagined something about the ancient city, and he should focus on specific objects, then leave—this is a golden rule for all museums. He may then discover that a piece of the past has come to life.

The collection is well maintained (built in 1895) and properly cataloged. There’s a Guide (in French) by the Director, Professor Breccia, with excerpts posted around the rooms. The following notes on this scholarly work are based on it. However, they are compiled from a specific perspective. They aim to highlight the historical section of the book (p. 1) and are linked to it through cross references.

For the arrangement of exhibits, see Plan p. 108.

INTRO.

The Museum primarily showcases the civilization of Ancient Alexandria. There are some portraits—though not very impressive—of the Founder (Room 12), and magnificent coins from the Ptolemies (Room 3); as well as sculptures of them (Rooms 4, 12). Their religious policies are reflected in the statues of Serapis (Room 16). Regarding the Roman Emperors, we have, in addition to their coins (Room 2), massive statues of Marcus Aurelius (Room 12) and Diocletian (?) (Room 17); along with some gold coins from their Byzantine successors (Room 5). Meanwhile, the life of the private citizen is also depicted, but mainly through funerary items. There’s an abundance of funerary artifacts (Rooms 6, 13, 14, 15, 17-21), mostly unremarkable, but achieving significant beauty in the terra cotta statuettes of women (Room 18). The "Egyptian Queen" pottery (Room 17) is more vibrant. In the same room, there is beautiful glass. With Christianity, the Alexandrian, while still mostly revealed through his tombs (Room 1), develops the intriguing cult of St. Menas (Rooms 1, 5, 22, A.).

The Museum also showcases, though not perfectly, other aspects of Egyptian life.

(i). Ancient Egypt:—There are some mummies and other items from Thebes, Heliopolis, etc. (Rooms 8 and 10), but they seem to be here because they're not good enough for Cairo; there's also a collection of small objects (Room 10) and statues of Rameses from Aboukir (Room 9 and North Garden). The combination of Pharaonic and Hellenistic styles is displayed in Room 11.

110(ii). Fayoum:—This is the most significant non-Alexandrian area in the Museum. The Fayoum, an irrigated lowland southwest of Cairo, was developed by Ptolemy II Philadelphus, and, similar to Alexandria, Greek and Egyptian cultures blended here, but with different outcomes. It was primitive and regional. Pay particular attention to crocodile worship (North Garden, Rooms 9, 22 A). There are mummies of a completely new type (Room 17). Black basalt statues (Room 11). It's unfortunate that the Fayoum exhibits can't all be displayed together.

(iii). Akhmin:—An early Christian burial site in Upper Egypt. This is where the cloaked mummies (Room 1) and the pieces of tapestry (Rooms 1, 2, 4) come from, whose beauty will remain long after many grand statues have been forgotten.

Entryway.

Plans, Photos, etc.

Note especially (1) Thiersch’s reconstruction of the Pharos and (10) Photographs of Kait Bey Fort, where the Pharos stood. (p. 16). (8) Cleopatra’s Needle in its place (p. 161). At the entrance of Room 6 (left) is a cast of the Rosetta Stone (p. 185), which features a tri-lingual decree (Hieroglyphs, the script of the Ancient Egyptian priests, Demotic, a cursive script that evolved from it, and Greek); the decree was issued by the priests of Memphis, B.C. 196, in honor of Ptolemy V Epiphanes. The original stone was found by the French in 1799 at the Fort of St. Julien, Rosetta—a watercolour of it hangs nearby. General Menou had to surrender it to the English in 1801, and it is now at the British Museum. Carducci’s beautiful poem about Alexandria is framed on the adjacent wall.

In the case are stone-age tools from Fayoum.

From the Vestibule, to the right is Room 1 (Christianity); to the left is Room 6 (Inscriptions); straight ahead, the Verandah goes between the Garden Courts to Room 17.

ROOM 1: Christian Artifacts.

Right Side Wall: Inscriptions. 106 features a cross with a looped top, directly based on the life symbol (ankh) that the ancient Egyptian gods hold (p. 69). In the center of the wall Case A: terracotta dolls, etc. from St. Menas.

Center of Room: facing the door:—a stunning Byzantine capital, thought to have been in the church of St. Mark (p. 46). Discovered in the Ramleh Street. Case K: Carved ivories and bones, 111mostly from Alexandrian trash piles—1979, 2012, 2021, 2025 are notable examples. Case I: Interlaced cushion from the Christian necropolis of Antinoe, Upper Egypt. In the middle of the room: a beautiful porphyry cover for a sarcophagus, adorned on each side with a lovely head. From the Lebban quarter. Beyond: Christian mummies from Antinoe, still dressed in their exquisite embroideries. At the end: another Byzantine capital, found near the Mahmoudieh Canal.

Left Sidewall, center: Cases La and M.: Flasks from St. Menas. They were filled with water, which must have evaporated quickly, and shipped all over the Christian world: common design—the Saint between camels. Between the vases are interesting fragments from a church dedicated to St. Menas at Dekhela; (p. 171), the low relief of the Saint is a clumsy replica of the one that was in his shrine in the desert (p. 195). Cases P., Q., R., S.: Coptic tapestries from Akhmin and Antinoe—gorgeous. Date 3rd century onward. Near Case N, two odd reliefs (Christian era) of Leda and the swan—in one of them, she’s holding an egg.

ROOM 2: Coins.

Chronological continuation of the Ptolemaic coins in Room 3, which should be visited first. It highlights the history of Alexandria and its religion, first under Rome and then under Constantinople. The series starts in Case A (in the far right corner) with Octavian (Augustus) 675; Case B No. 675 (of Domitian) shows the Pharos (see p. 16). 750 (of Trajan)—a temple to Isis in Alexandria, with pylons between which the goddess stands. 771 shows Serapis on his throne. 890-892, the sacred basket that he sometimes carries on his head. Case C, 1363-1366—friendly interactions between Emperor Hadrian and Alexandria. 1409—interactions between him and the god Serapis. 1450, Isis as guardian of the Pharos.

Circle the Room: Four marble capitals from St. Menas.

ROOM 3: Coins.

The collection of Ptolemaic coins starts in Case Ab (to the right of the room) and continues through Case C-D (on the left) and Case E-F (by the entrance). The coins are numbered consecutively. They are significant both historically and artistically, but should not be taken as accurate portraits since the ruler is often associated with a god (i.e., numeral ‘one’ 1). A silver four-drachma coin of Alexander the Great, minted by his Viceroy Cleomenes. 2-45. Ptolemy I as Viceroy. On the front, there's always the head of Alexander the Great with the horns of the God Ammon. 46-274. Ptolemy I as King (Soter). A new style gradually appears; on the front, the head of the King, and on the back, an eagle (note 14 gold coins—four-drachma pieces). 275-510. Ptolemy II (Philadelphus) is informative for the domestic history of his reign (p. 14). Initially, the King appears alone—e.g., on a gold five-drachma coin. 275-280. Then his strong sister and wife Arsinoe appears alone—gold coin 342. Later, the couple is depicted together—gold coins 428-434, while on the reverse side of these coins are their predecessors, Ptolemy I and his wife, showcasing that the dynasty is represented in pairs. 551-619. Ptolemy III (Euergetes). 620. A stunning gold eight-drachma coin, representing Euergetes but minted by his son Philopator; this is the most beautiful coin in the collection. 621. A silver four-drachma coin, featuring the heads of Serapis and Isis. The Ptolemaic coinage declines; the eagle in the later issues (Case D) becomes stylized and somewhat absurd. 1059 (Case E) features—what a disappointment!—Cleopatra!

Circle the room—Casts.

ROOM 4: Coins. Akhmin Tapestry.

The coins are copper from the later Roman Emperors. They're not beautiful but hold historical significance for Alexandria. In Case A-B (right) 3884—Aurelian and Vabatathe. 3896—Zenobia. In Case C-D (left) 4024—Diocletian.

Round the walls: 1-8. Tapestries from the Christian cemetery at Akhmin.

Back wall: A large and striking statue of a grieving woman with her child. Hellenistic. It may represent Berenice, the wife of Ptolemy III Euergetes, mourning her young daughter—the daughter whom the priests honored as a goddess in the Decree of Canopus, B.C. 239 (p. 42).

Room entrance: Big Christian Jar.

ROOM 5: Coins.

Beautiful Byzantine gold coins. Pay particular attention to Emperor Phocas and his conqueror Heraclius (p. 53); the latter showcases the Exaltation of the Cross, which he reclaimed from the Persians.

Back wall: Pilaster from the Hospice at St. Menas. The cross has been removed, likely during the Arab conquest. At each end of it, more St. Menas flasks.

Case A: Painted masks from the (pagan) Necropolis of Antinoe. Case B: Christian pottery from Kom es Chogafa.

Return to Lobby.

ROOM 6: Inscriptions, etc.

This room has no beautiful items, but it is historically interesting. The exhibits aren't arranged in numerical order.

Right side wall, close to the entrance: 42—Inscription on a statue of Antony (p. 26), dedicated on December 24th, B.C. 50 (Found near Ramleh Station, i.e. the site of the Caesareum). 2. Dedication to Ptolemy II Philadelphus. 1. Dedication to Ptolemy I. 37. Doorway with an inscription to Ptolemy VI; on 113 there is a case containing (59) two bronze plaques belonging to a Roman Soldier, (Julius Saturninus), inscribed with a certificate of his good services and privileges. 61a, also in the case, is another military document, a wooden tablet written in Alexandria, but found in the Fayoum, which also grants benefits to a veteran. 94. Base of a statue of Emperor Valentinian (4th Cent. A.D.); found in Rue Rosette. 88b. Tombstone with the figures of Isidore and Artemisia, two ladies from Pisidia, found at Hadra. 87b. Tombstone of a woman with her servant.

Then there are some painted tombstones shielded by glass; they aren't as nice as some in the rooms ahead. 119 (in the corner of the room); Tombstone of a woman dying between two friends.

Left side wall: Inscriptions and tombstones from the Roman period (p. 44). 480. On a pedestal: Memorial of Aurelius Alexander, a Roman soldier from Macedonia who died at 31. 252. Another for Aurelius Sabius, a Syrian soldier, who was 35.

Each side of the room, near the entrance door: Two Cases of papyrus—the one on the left contains two notable inscriptions. 119. An incantation to the Nile and to the great spirit Sabaoth showing a blend of Egyptian and Jewish beliefs. 122. A request from Aurelia, the priestess of the crocodile god, Petesouchos, for a certificate of having worshipped the gods. This was made during the Decian persecution, (p. 46), and indicates that, despite her position, she had been accused of being a Christian. 352b. On a pedestal: A colossal scarab. 35b. A fine headless sphinx. 351. A great Apis bull (restored); from the period of Hadrian. 350. A rather sentimental sphinx with crossed paws. All four of these last items were found near Pompey’s Pillar. (p. 144).

ROOM 7: Ancient Egypt: Canopus.

These monuments, while mostly located at the Aboukir sites (p. 180), might have been brought there at some unknown time from Heliopolis or Sais.

1. Statue of a Hyksos Pharaoh (Shepherd King, around 1800 B.C.) that was taken over by Rameses II (around 1300 B.C.); on the shoulder is Rameses’ daughter Hout-Ma-Ra, traditionally known as the princess who discovered Moses in the bulrushes.

18. A section of a statue of Rameses II.

Case C (left of room). Two statues of a Ptolemaic official; from the Temple of Serapis, Alexandria, (p. 146).

ROOM 8: Ancient Egypt.

Five sarcophagi.

Case B (right): The interior is painted—an eerie container. At the head, there's a winged serpent; along the sides, a serpent with the symbol of Life (see the Coptic Cross, Room 1, No. 106, also p. 69), and spirits, mostly with serpent heads. The mummy rested on the sun goddess Neith, on a serpent wrapped around a lotus, and on the 114 soul depicted as a bird. The outside of the case is also painted. From Deir el Bahri, Upper Egypt.

Case E (center): A beautifully painted mummy featuring the goddess Neith on its chest. Very impressive. Date—around 600 B.C.

3 (back wall): A relief over the door of a tomb. On the left, the deceased sits on a throne between two bouquets of lotus flowers; to one of them, a pair of ducks are tied. Next, there's an old harpist singing, accompanied by a girl playing a drum, and two others clapping their hands. On the right, a man is preparing a drink; then there are two dancing girls. It's a beautiful piece of work. From Heliopolis.

ROOM 9: Ancient Egypt: Crocodile Worship.

The items in this room, although not from Alexandria, are from the Ptolemaic period and showcase that dynasty in its Egyptian context. They are from the Temple of Petesouchos, the crocodile god of the Fayoum. The temple was decorated by Agathodorus, a Greek official, in 137 B.C. to honor Ptolemy VII (Physkon) and his two wives, one his sister and the other his niece, both named Cleopatra. (For the marriage arrangements of this unappealing king, see tree, p. 12). Part of the temple has been relocated to the Museum and is well displayed in the North Garden (see below).

Center of the room: A wooden stretcher with a mummified crocodile on top. It was carried in procession by the priests, as the watercolor below (a copy of a fresco) illustrates. The stretcher sits on a wooden chest that was also discovered in the shrine.

Back wall: Wooden door of the outer gateway (see North Garden). Greek inscription. Here are some photos to help reconstruct the temple.

39 (right of the chest): a decorative and unsightly offering table for the god. He is placed in a small tank.

To the left of the door: Relief of a priest worshiping the god, who is crawling on lotus flowers.

ROOM 10: Ancient Egypt: Mini exhibits.

At the entrance: A table for offerings, with bowls for the drinks poured out as tribute.

Right side wall—Case C; Statues of gods, each with a name. The most notable for the history of Alexandria are 3-25 Osiris, and 26-40 the bull Apis, which combined to create Serapis. (p. 18).

Case D: Mummies of a baby, an eagle, and an ibis.

Case Aa—Shelf b (at the top): blue enamel winged scarabs. Shelf k (No. 1): a figurine of Sekhet, the goddess of the sun’s heat—she has the head of a lioness and holds a gold flower. Shelf f: Bast, the cat goddess. No. 39 features a kitten between her paws. 51 gold earrings. Shelf 1 contains more statues of Bast. 55 are very nice.

115Left side wall: Case h “Canopic” vases made of alabaster. These were used to store the parts of the dead that couldn't be embalmed. Each vase was dedicated to one of the sons of Horus: Amset for the stomach, Hapi for the intestines, Douamoutef for the lungs, and Kebehsenouf for the liver. For their connection with the town of Canopus, see p. 176.

Case Bb:—More statuettes—especially shelf i.—Harpocrates and Horus, and shelf k. Isis nursing Horus—the artistic inspiration for the Christian design of the Madonna and Child. (p. 69). There are some rattles and vases from the Isis worship.

Case L: Small figurines (Ushabti) that were placed in the grave alongside the mummy to perform tasks in the afterlife.

Also around the walls of the room: six painted mummy cases.

Down the middle: two large tables filled with scarabs, amulets, gold trinkets, and more.

ROOM 11. Greco-Egyptian.

Objects where Greek and Egyptian influences mix. There aren't many of them, and they aren't as intriguing as one might think. No vibrant art emerged from their fusion.

Right-side wall: 18. Dedication to the Egyptian god Anubis with a Greek inscription. 20. Profile of a Ptolemy—quite charming. 33-40. Serpent worship—very off-putting. 40. is a strange mix. The male snake has the basket of Serapis and the club of Hercules; the female has the disc of Isis and the sheaf of Ceres. 41. Poorly painted, Greek style, of a girl surrounded by Egyptian gods. From Gabbari. End wall—both sides: 43-53. Awkward statues from the Fayoum, showing Greek influence.

Left side wall—centre: 61. Large piece of a relief from a temple in Benha; on the left, Horus with a falcon head; on the right, a human figure with a Greek inscription next to it. 62. Model of a shrine, mixed style: in the sanctuary, Isis is nursing Horus. 69. (in case A)—a beautiful (headless) statue of a woman, in Egyptian style but with a Greek vibe.

Archway between Rooms 11 and 12. To the right: Portrait of a young man in white marble (from Kom es Chogafa). Gone: Charming portrait of a child around two or three years old.

ROOM 12: Portraits: primarily in a Greco-Roman style.

Center: 30. A dull, oversized statue of Marcus Aurelius. The Emperor, looking uninterested yet kind, is depicted as a general: his right arm rests on a cornucopia. A cross has been scratched onto the stomach of the armor during Christian times.—From Rosette Street.

Right side: 8. Stunning bust of Venus; 16a and 17. Marble and granite heads of Alexander the Great (p. 8); they lack artistic value but were found in Alexandria. 18. Head of a 116young soldier. 20. Marble head of a goddess with beautiful hair, found near Pompey's Pillar. 21. Head, possibly of Berenice, wife of Euergetes; found at the same location.—Cabinet A: small portraits; particularly noteworthy are 15 and 15a Ptolemy Euergetes (?) and 12 Berenice his wife (?) with elaborate curls; they are displayed in the center of the case on the second shelf. Cabinet D: Alleged marble portrait of Cleopatra in her later years. Thin, tightly compressed lips and a generally severe expression undermine that theory. 60. Colossal granite head of Ptolemy IV Philopator; from Aboukir.

Left wall: 51. Bust of Emperor Hadrian. 52. Head in white marble—noble features, believed to be those of a young Marcus Aurelius. Cabinet B. Heads and torsos: No. 27 Center shelf, Head of a child with a radiant smile—found in Alexandria. 36. Head of Zeus, bushy face—thick lips. Has been scalped. Cabinet F. Various small bronzes; 44. Life-sized head of a woman in marble: has a Rosetti-like neck and mouth.

ROOM 13. Miscellaneous.

Center: 1. Statue of an Emperor, to which a head of Septimus Severus has been attached.

In Case F (right): 2. A smiling face of a Faun. On the top of the case, an unusual relief of a winged griffin and a woman on two wheels. (Nemesis?).

In Case H (left): 2. A drawing of a Roman senator with a rat’s head.

ROOM 14. Misc.

Center: Mosaic from Gabbari, which used to feature a Medusa’s head.

Back wall: 1. Marble statue of a Roman Orator. The head is mismatched.

Bottom left corner: 2-4. Fine architectural details. From Sultan Hussein Street.

Left side wall: 6. Door of a tomb-niche, combining Greek and Egyptian styles. The table in front is from the same tomb and was used for funeral offerings. From the Western Necropolis.

ROOM 15. Architecture.

Small fragments, etc., many of which are very delicate and show signs of paint.

Right side: 9. Sacrificial altar, designed to look like a building, with doors realistically open.

On a column in the right-hand corner: 2. Capital, clearly showing a mix of styles; the overall shape and the acanthus leaves are Greek, while the lotus, papyrus, and serpents are Egyptian.

Middle wall, behind a curtain: 20. Decorated side of a sarcophagus; a simple and attractive design of two fighting cocks poised to battle over a garland of flowers. 2nd Cent. A.D.

117Left side wall: 50. On the other side of the same sarcophagus: buildings in perspective.

ROOM 16. Statues, mainly inspired by ancient Greece and Rome.

Right side wall: 4. Marble statue of a young hero or god; the head and arms, which were made separately, are missing, but it's well done. From Alexandria—likely from a temple. 7-8. On a shelf—Statuettes that lack heads and aren't very significant, but are interesting for their subject:—Alexander the Great depicted as a god wearing the aegis. From Alexandria. 12. On a column—Bust of the combined goddess Demeter-Selene, featuring Demeter's headpiece and moon horns. 21-23: Priestesses of Isis, identifiable by the sacred knots tying their shawls in front. 28. Large Ionic capital; another one stands across from it, and four more are in the garden court. From Silsileh, likely part of the Ptolemaic Palace. (p. 17) 27. Greek funeral relief, dating back to the 3rd Century B.C. Found in Alexandria, but likely imported from Athens.

Center of room: 31. Elegant bath made of black stone, adorned with lion and lynx heads, from which the water flowed. Further along (37) is another one. Both came from the Western Necropolis, where they served as tombs. 33. A massive votive foot that merges above the ankle into a statue of Serapis. On the head, there’s a Greek dedication, thanking Serapis from two of his followers; two snakes above with a child (Horus?) between them. From Alexandria. 34. A huge eagle, somewhat clunky, presented by the late Khedive; from the island of Thasos. 39. Enormous forearm holding a sphere. From Benha.

Left side wall: 40. Large limestone Corinthian capital. 3rd century B.C. 47, 48, 49, 51, and (on shelf) 53 and 52a: Statues and Heads of Serapis. Important (p. 19). 47 is likely a Roman copy of the original—attributed to Bryaxis—in the Temple and accurately depicts the type—half menacing, half benevolent. On its top are the marks where the sacred basket was affixed. From the Adib Street. 48. features Cerberus. 52 and 52a were discovered near the actual Serapeum; the blue-black hue of the latter resembles the original statue. 50. Headless Priest of Serapis (?); robe adorned with seven-rayed stars, scarabs, and the crescent moon. Apis Bulls and a large serpent. From the Temple. 53. Realistic portrait head. 54. Apollo seated on the Omphalos, or Navel of the World at Delphi; a rare theme; likely imported from Antioch, Asia Minor. 59-59. Headless statues, Roman, some accompanied by rolls of papyrus. From Sidi Gaber. 62. Entrance of Room 17: Genius of Death asleep.

ROOM 17: Miscellaneous.

A cool room.

Center: A charming mosaic of a water party in Upper Egypt; birds, frogs, eels, fish, hippos, and pygmies; in the center, a man and woman with their children and an attendant relax beneath an awning that sways in the breeze. Caesar and Cleopatra might have enjoyed themselves like this (p. 25). Greek inscription and decorative border.

Back wall: Huge headless porphyry statue of Diocletian (?) sitting on a throne. From Attarine Street.

In front of the statue: Marble sarcophagus; Dionysus and Ariadne. From the Western Necropolis. This type is uncommon in Alexandria, where the decorations are usually fruit or flowers.

Scattered around the room: Mummies from the Fayoum (see preliminary note); the best (Case U) is against a pillar; it features a lifelike portrait of the deceased, painted on wood.

Around the walls: Case A Beautiful iridescent glass; Alexandrian glass was well-known. Case D, a terra cotta dish for serving poached eggs. Table Rr: Funerary objects from the Western Necropolis; 2506, &c., Gnostic Amulets (p. 71). Case G and nearby Table S: Pieces of “Egyptian Queen” pottery, a popular item from Ptolemaic times. This type was a green enamel vase featuring a relief of a princess making a sacrifice at an altar with an inscription like “Good luck to Queen Berenice.” These vases were bought as decorative items by loyal citizens and tourists. Case G: Funerary furniture; in the center a skull, adorned with artificial laurel. 3rd century B.C. (From the Chatby Necropolis. p. 164). Case K: Fine cinerary urns, the earliest dated 281 B.C.—on either side of the door into the gardens; marble sarcophagi in the typical Alexandrian style. Cases P: Glass vases of exquisite color and design; there's more beauty in this small case than in tons of statues.

ROOM 18. terracotta Statues.

The statuettes, the finest of which are Hellenistic and Alexandrian, were initially linked to funeral rituals and later included in tombs out of the same feeling that leads us to leave flowers, especially when the deceased is young. They have mostly been discovered in the tombs of children and women. They are the most beautiful items in the Museum.

Entrance view, and to the right, (Cases HH and A): Cinerary urns from Alexandria.

Left side wall: Case F (covered with curtain): Here are the masterpieces—27 statuettes of women. 1, 4, 7, 8, 12, and 13 are probably the most beautiful—so delicate yet so dignified. 1 is crowned with ivy and wears small earrings; the outline of her arm is visible through the fabric that covers it. 7 carries her child. 12, with her little draped head, is oddly striking. Case G: 1. Child on his mother’s shoulder. Case H: 1. Child on a toy chariot, full of grapes and pulled by dogs. Case I: Caricatures. Case L: Molds for terra cotta. Case in the corner, also FF: Fragments from Naucratis, the Greek predecessor of Alexandria in Egypt.

119Right side wall: Terracotta pieces from the Fayoum—dull and crude.

Through the middle of the room: Four mosaics from Canopus (p. 180); they likely adorned the Temple of Serapis there.

ROOM 19. Misc.

At the entrance: Funerary urn still decorated with artificial flowers. From Chatby. 3rd century B.C.

Center: Mosaic—the best geometric mosaic in the museum. From Chatby.

In the corners of the room: Cases A, B, C, D: Terracotta pieces from Kom es Chogafa. Note in Case C, shelf b, 1. A model of seven pots and a large jar—similar to dollhouse furniture; and in Case D some uninspiring grotesques.

Also in the corners of the octagon: Cases I, II, III, IV. Funerary furniture from Hadra. (p. 156). In Case I are two beautiful objects: a blue enamel vase decorated with the faces of Bes, the Egyptian god of luck; and (shelf b, 2): a terra cotta statuette of a boy who is laughing and clinging to a term of Dionysus while holding an apple in his hand.

ROOM 20. Chatby Necropolis. (p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__).

Several painted tombstones. The best ones are protected by tinted glass, and they can be better examined in the watercolor copies displayed above.

Left of entrance: 1. Isodora, a woman from Cyrene, with her child. 2. A young Macedonian officer on horseback; his assistant runs behind holding the horse’s tail. Date 4th century B.C.—i.e. shortly after Alexander founded the city. 10231: Boy and child.

Cases A and B: Funerary furniture. In Case B are some nice terra cottas: 1, 2. Women sitting. 7, 8, 9. Schoolgirls in class.

Pedestal V (right wall): Grave marker for a young man, featuring a footstool and a pet dog.

Center of the room: Beautiful marble sculpture, damaged, of Dionysus and the Faun. Discovered near the destroyed Porte Rosette.

ROOM 21. Ibrahimieh Necropolis. (p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__).

Case in entrance: Wreaths of fake flowers. They look pretty bad, but it's impressive how old they are. Double flute made of ivory.

Case in center: Mummified birds from Aboukir (p. 180).

Cases D and F: From Ibrahimieh. Case D. Inscription in Aramaic—one of the few remaining artifacts from the early Jewish community in Alexandria (p. 62); some more are on the floor. Date: 3rd century B.C. Case F (right wall) Cinerary urns. Groups in painted plaster of the phallic Min (whom the Greeks associated with Pan), Hercules, Horus, etc.

120ROOM 22. Canopus. (p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__).

Disappointing; there must have been much better work than this mediocre Hellenistic stuff at the great shrine.

Left side wall: 1-3:. Historical inscriptions of interest: they mention Serapis and Isis, the local deities, as well as the Ptolemies Philadelphus and Euergetes.

Back wall: in some cases, sculptures and terracotta pieces.

Right side: Stucco-coated columns from the Temple of Serapis; others have been left in place.

Center: Mosaic from Alexandria.

ROOM 22A. Murals.

Right of the door: Three pagan frescoes related to crocodile worship (see Room 7 and North Garden). From the Temple of Petesouchos, Fayoum. Date: 2nd century A.D. Thank you offerings to the god from Heron Soubathos, an officer: 1. He stands. 2. He rides.

Rest of the room: Christian frescoes of significant interest, from a crypt found in the desert beyond Lake Mariout. Dated 5th century A.D. A staircase led down to a square room. 1 and 2 are from the ceiling of this room; from its walls come—3 St. Menas standing between camels—4 and 5 the Annunciation. A passage led to a smaller room; on its vault was 6 Head of Christ. In this smaller room were 7 and 8. Out of it opened a little niche at the end of which was 9 a saint in prayer among the scenery of paradise.

Veranda and Gardens. Large Exhibits.

In the middle of the Veranda: Giant headless statue of Hercules.

North Garden: To the left—Gateways and the shrine of the Temple of Petesouchos, the crocodile god of the Fayoum (see Room 9 for more details). The first gateway is the entrance Pylon, which has a Greek inscription that dates the temple to 137 B.C. The wooden door in Room 9 used to be part of this structure. On either side of the gateway are lions. This gateway led to a brick courtyard, which featured a Nilometer. The courtyard was closed off by the second gateway, flanked by sphinxes, leading to a second, similar courtyard. Next is the third gate, which leads to the shrine. The shrine contains three cavities, each housing a mummified crocodile on a wooden stretcher (see Room 9). In the left cavity is a fresco of a crocodile; in the center is a fresco depicting a god with a crocodile head surrounded by two other deities. Above the cavities are several decorative friezes—one showing snakes. The exterior of the shrine is also painted to look like marble. In front of it, a wooden chest was discovered (Room 9).

At the back of the garden: A granite group of Rameses II and his daughter—headless. From Aboukir. Against the wall behind: a colossal green granite head of Antony as Osiris. From near Nouzha (p. 157). The companion head of Cleopatra as Isis is in Belgium.

121South garden: Two reconstructed tombs from the Chatby Necropolis (p. 164). The first one (in the corner) is impressive. The sarcophagus looks like a bed with cushions at both ends. The chamber where it is located used to have a long vestibule for the mourners (similar to the Anfouchi tombs, p. 126). Dated to the 3rd century B.C. The second tomb features a shell vault niche (like Kom es Chogafa, p. 148).

The Rosette Street goes on and eventually opens up between buildings. Since it was first established, this has been the boundary of the city; during Ptolemaic times, the Gate of the Sun or Canopic Gate was located here, and in Arab times, it was known as the Rosetta Gate. The Public Gardens (to the left and right) follow the path of the Arab walls (see p. 81 and Section IV). The tram line to Nouzha crosses this route. The road continues under a different name to Sidi Gaber (Section V), then to Ramleh, and to Aboukir (Section VII). It’s a well-maintained and nicely planted road, but incredibly straight, like all roads that the Ancients designed.

Route:—Via the Rue de France and Rue Ras-el-Tin to the Ras-el-Tin promontory; then back to the Square through Anfouchi Bay and the Eastern Harbour—the “Circular” Tram (Green Triangle) travels along the Quays.

Key points of interest:—Terbana and Chorbagi Mosques; Mosque of Abou el Abbas; Anfouchi Catacombs; Ras-el-Tin Palace; Prehistoric Harbour; Fort Kait Bey; New Quays.

123We start from the northwest corner of the Square. The France Street runs through the “Turkish Town” (p. 84), which was built in the 17th and 18th centuries on the stretch of land that formed around the ruined Ptolemaic dyke (p. 10). Its markets and mosques are small-scale, as the city was weak at that time. However, the area is picturesque and especially charming in the evening. The best way to explore it is to wander around without a set plan.

In the France Street:—To the right: Rue Pirona. Built into the wall at its entrance are pieces of Egyptian sculpture, including the lion-headed goddess Sekhet, etc. The road leads to a charming little square that features an old Native Tribunal and a building (No. 4) with a carved entrance and a peaceful courtyard with ancient columns.

In the streets to the left of the Rue de France are some mosques:—

Mosque of Sheikh Ibrahim Pacha, at the southwest corner of the Square; large unattractive building with a red and yellow minaret.

Chorbagi Mosque, on Rue el Midan. Definitely worth a visit. Date—1757. Design—similar to the Terbana (see below). The outside has been damaged by restoration, but the door from the vestibule into the main mosque features a trefoil arch covered in vibrant tiles; in the center of the arch is a small praying niche (mihrab).—The interior, although architecturally plain, still showcases its stunning Tile Decoration almost completely intact. The tiles are arranged around the walls in large panels, with designs that are sometimes geometric and sometimes feature a pot of flowers. Between the panels are strips of contrasting tiles. Colors:—in the panels, yellow, green, and a deep cornflower blue dominate; in the strips, china blue and white. A few of the panels are made of polished conglomerate stone. The Prayer Niche—surrounded by two uniquely twisted columns—displays the pot of flowers design. The pulpit door is impressive; it features duplicated Cufic inscriptions, with those on the right reading from 124right to left, as is traditional, and those on the left written in reverse for symmetry: a great example of the decorative style of Arab Art. Externally, the mosque is flanked by arcades; one overlooks the street and is used by the Muezzin, as there is no minaret; the other opens into a courtyard with stilted arches.

Mosque of Abou Ali. (Go almost to the end of the long Rue Bab el Akdar; then, turn right into Rue Masguid Ali Bey Guenenah; then, turn right again). There's not much to see in this small Mosque, but it's said to be the oldest in the city. Inside, there are the numbers 677, which, if they mark the date in the Islamic calendar, would correspond to 1278 A.D. Locals say it used to be right by the sea, allowing worshippers to cleanse themselves with salt water before praying. This tradition may be accurate, as the old coastline used to be here. (see map p. 98). The building in its current form can't be older than the 18th century; on top of the pulpit sits a model of a boat.

Continuing from the French Street, we see ahead the white structure of the Terbana Mosque.

Definitely worth a visit, despite the modern plaster and paint. Date—1684. The small doorway on the street reflects the "Delta" style—bricks painted black and red, with occasional wood sections in between and Cufic inscriptions above: “There is no God but God,” and “Mohammed is the Prophet of God”; better examples of this style can be found in Rosetta (p. 185). The rest of the ground floor is filled with shops. At the top of the stairs, an interesting scene unfolds. To the left, there are two impressive antique granite columns with Corinthian capitals, and beyond them is an open-air terrace with an iron trellis and barred windows. To the right is the Vestibule of the Mosque, which was once very beautiful; two-thirds of the entrance wall are still covered with tiles, designed like those in the Chorbagi, and over the door is the inscription “Built in 1097 A.H. by Haj Ibrahim Terbana,” topped by a trefoil arch. More antique columns. The interior is a rectangle, divided by eight columns, which are damaged but still antique. The painted ceiling is nice, best viewed from the western gallery. The Prayer Niche is beautifully tiled, as is the wall to its right; the large tiles featuring white daisies are inferior modern work. Disappointing chandeliers. There’s an external gallery with antique columns. The Minaret rises above the entrance landing; its topmost gallery is tiled.

The main road is now called Rue Ras-el-Tin. This is where the southern shore of the Island of Pharos used to start. As a result, ancient remains can be found in their original location.

125Right: Rue Sidi Abou el Abbas leads to the square of the same name—the largest in the Turkish Town; here, in the evening light, one can sometimes feel a sense of oriental romance; here (1922) is where the Nationalist demonstrations gather. The road, just before it enters the square, crosses the site of a temple dedicated to Isis Pharia, the goddess who oversaw the lighthouse. (see coin in Museum, Room 2).

Dominating the square is the impressive white Mosque of Abou el Abbas Moursi, built in 1767 by Algerians, some of whom still live in the area; the tomb of the saint (d. 1288) lies under a low dome. On the other side of the Mosque (accessible by a winding passage to the right) is an unrestored brick entrance in the “Delta” style, featuring pendentives, tiles, and a Cufic inscription.—At the end of the Square is the small Mosque of Sidi Daoud, which contains the tomb of the saint, from whose grounds two tall palm trees rise.—Just off the south side of the square is a typical street tomb (Sidi Abou el Fath), surrounded by its green lattice; among the nearby houses, No. 31 boasts beautiful carved “Mashrabieh” work, while No. 33 has a carved lintel and doorposts made of alternating courses of limestone and wood. This maze of lanes retains the atmosphere of the 18th century East. Between the Abou el Abbas Mosque and the sea stands a large modern Mosque—the Bouseiri—where the Sultan usually attends Friday prayers; a little further up the street is a stone fragment covered with hieroglyphs, now used upside down as a seat.

The Ras-el-Tin Street is now connected to the “Circular” tram line. To the right is a big patch of wasteland. In the corner of this area, near the road, are some rundown glass roofs; these shelter the Anfouchi Tombs, and the caretaker lives nearby.

Though not as impressive as the Kom es Chougafa Catacombs, these tomb groups are interesting for their decoration style. Their entrances are adjacent, and their layout is similar: a staircase carved into the limestone leads down to a square hall from which the tomb chambers open. The decoration consists of stucco painted to look like marble blocks and tiles. It's poorly done and sometimes reminds one of the imitation wallpapers of Victorian England. Archaeologists refer to it as the First Pompeian style. Date: Ptolemaic with Roman additions. Name of occupants: unknown.

Right-hand tomb group. (see plan p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__).

At the first turn of the stairs, covered by a cloth, is a striking picture. The subject is the purification of the dead by water. Horus, with a falcon head, points one hand towards the land of the dead while using the other to pull the deceased toward it. Osiris is holding out a purification vase, and Isis is standing behind. At the second turn of the stairs, there’s another picture, partially damaged; Osiris is seated on a throne as the king of the dead, with the dog-god Anubis behind him. In front of him, just barely visible, stands Horus introducing the dead man.

Thus the staircase reminded visitors of the struggles faced by the dead and honored Osiris, Isis, and their son Horus—a trio whose worship was popular during Ptolemaic times and often linked with the worship of Serapis. The walls mimic alabaster, etc.; on the ceiling, geometric designs.

The Hall is open to the outdoors. It provides access to two tomb chambers, each with a foyer for mourners. The one on the right (i) is plain, but the drawings on the walls of the vestibule are quite entertaining; they were made over 2,000 years ago by a visitor or worker, and they help us piece together the life of the Greco-Egyptian city. The inscriptions are in Greek. On the left wall, Diodorus has immortalized his friend Antiphiles. Further along, there’s a sailing ship. On the right wall, there's a battleship with a turret for fighting, which might have accompanied Cleopatra to Actium.

The vestibule in front (ii) is quite charming. It was decorated in the same style as the staircase—traces of this remain on the inside of its entrance wall—but soon after a fresh coat of stucco was applied, and painted like the first to imitate marble, but with better taste. Below is a dado of “alabaster,” and above it is an effective design of black and white squares arranged like a chessboard, divided by alabaster bands. The chessboard features mythological scenes, now defaced. The ceiling, being purely geometric, probably belongs to the earlier design.

At the end of the hallway is the entrance to the tomb chamber, with a carving of the Sun (Ra) above it, and little sleeping sphinxes on pedestals on either side. A door used to close it; the holes for the bolt are still there. The tomb chamber itself is decorated in the same charming style. An altar used to stand in the middle. In the back wall, there's a small shrine, closing off the view. The overall effect is nice, but more delicate than serious; the fears of ancient Egypt are fading.

Left-hand tomb group.

The entrance area at the front, as you walk into the Hall, is quite long, and there are low benches on either side where the mourners sat. (iii). In the tomb chamber, there's a huge sarcophagus made of rose-colored granite from Assouan.

The vestibule and tomb chamber on the left (iv) were dug out and decorated according to the usual design. However, during the Roman period, they underwent significant alterations, with brickwork added, along with three new sarcophagi.

There are remnants of other tombs scattered across the barren land that makes up the cemetery of the ancient Island of Pharos. We are now in the center of the Island and are about to head to its western edge.

Straight ahead, up a hill, is Ras-el-Tin Palace, the summer home of the Sultan, who makes his official appearance every June. It was built by Mohammed Ali (p. 88), where he had a heated discussion with Sir Charles Napier, which ended his greater ambitions (p. 89); Ismail refurbished it; Tewfik was here during some of the troubles in 1882 (p. 95). It's not unattractive for a palace; the grand classical entrance is quite impressive. To the right are the barracks.

The peninsula gets narrower. The road continues to the Yacht Club (on the left) and ends at the Military Hospital, which is beautifully located on the rocky point of Ras-el-Tin (the “Cape of Figs”); it offers fantastic views of the Western Harbour and the sea. A Temple of Neptune once stood here, and there are ruins of tombs scattered along the northern shore. A modern lighthouse sits in the Hospital grounds, marking the entrance to the harbour. The Breakwater (built between 1870 and 1874) starts below, heads towards the isolated rock of Abou Bakr, and then curves to the left. Across the water are the island of Marabout and the headland of Agame, which are part of the same limestone chain as Ras-el-Tin and connected to it by underwater reefs.

129The sea to the west and north of the point is full of remnants from the Prehistoric Harbour.

For details on this important and mysterious work, check out “Les Ports submergés de l’ancienne Isle de Pharos” by M. Jondet, the discoverer. It might be the harbor mentioned in the Odyssey (see p. 6), but no historian refers to it. Theosophists, with more enthusiasm than evidence, have linked it to the lost civilization of Atlantis; M. Jondet leans towards the idea that it could be Minoan—constructed by the seafaring civilization of Crete. If it's of Egyptian origin, it might be the work of Rameses II (B.C. 1300); statues from his era have been discovered on Rhakotis (p. 7), and we know he faced attacks from “peoples of the West” and built defenses against them. It can't be as late as Alexander the Great, or we would have records. It's the oldest structure in the area and also the most romantic, as its age carries the added mystery of the sea.

Long and narrow, the Harbour extended from the rock of Abou Bakr on the west to an eastern barrier that reached the shore beyond the Tour de la Mission d’Egypt. These two points are connected by a series of breakwaters on the north. The entrance came from an unexpected direction, the south. After rounding Abou Bakr, ships headed north under the Ras-el-Tin promontory, where the water was deep. On their left were solid quays that extended to Abou Bakr and were recently used in building the modern breakwater. To their right was another quay. Once inside, they found themselves well in the middle of the main harbour, with a smaller harbour to the north.

The best way to visit the Harbour is by boat, since most of the remains are now 4 to 25 feet underwater. They have sunk, like the entire coastline, because the Nile deposits they’re built on are prone to compress and even slide into deeper water. The structures are made of limestone blocks from the quarries of Mex and Dekhela, but their simple construction offers no clues about their nationality or date. The modern breakwater being built across the entrance complicates the situation. (see Plan p. 131.)

The Small Quay (a) is in great shape, and it’s only about four feet underwater. It’s 70 yards long and 15 yards wide; the surface slightly curves to the south. The 131blocks, which are roughly a yard each, are cut to fit together, with small stones filling in the gaps. The Ras-el-Tin jetty crosses the end of this Quay; the point where they meet is near the red hut on the jetty. At the north end of the Quay is an extension (b) that protects the harbor entrance.

Further north, well inside the harbor, is a small island (c) covered with remnants. Some are tombs and of a later date; underwater are the foundations of a rectangular building (30 yds. by 15) accessed from the south by steps, and linked by small channels to the sea on the north. This island may have housed the harbor offices.

From the modern breakwater, the Great Quays (d) appear here and there as yellowish lines beneath the waves. They are 700 yards long and built like the Small Quay but made from larger stones. They connect with the rock of Abou Bakr (e), the western bastion of the Prehistoric Harbour; it is a solid mass over 200 yards square; most of it is at sea level, but a part rises above; it is covered with foundation cuts and remnants of masonry. To the west of Abou Bakr is a double breakwater (f) that further protects the structures from the sea and the prevailing winds; it supports the massive northern breakwater (g), which is also double in some sections, extending with gaps until it reaches the eastern barrier (h). The rock is named after the first Caliph of Islam.

The outer harbor (i) hasn't been fully explored yet.

Having returned to Ras-el-Tin Palace, we turn left and follow the tram line along the shore of Anfouchi Bay. The bay is quite shallow, and the entrance is protected by reefs. It was once used by pirates. Local boat builders work along the beach, and it’s nice to watch them. In the corner is Anfouchi Pier, which has a bathing area; further out, on a small promontory, stands the remnants of Fort Adda. Arabi stored his gunpowder there in 1882, and the English blew it up (p. 94). Now the tram takes a sharp turn, and a second fort comes into view—Fort Kait Bey.

This worn and overlooked little peninsula is probably the most fascinating place in Alexandria, as it was once home to the Pharos Lighthouse, a wonder of the world that stood at an incredible height. Contrary to popular belief, some pieces of the Pharos are still around. However, before checking them out along with the Arab fort where they're located, it’s helpful to know a bit of history. The history of the peninsula is complicated, and scholars have only recently clarified it.

HISTORY.

The original building. (see also 16).

The lighthouse got its name from Pharos Island (which is why the French say “phare” and the Italian say “faro”). It probably fit into Alexander the Great’s plans for his maritime capital, but it wasn’t completed until the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus. The likely date of its dedication is B.C. 279, when the king held a festival to honor his parents. The architect was Sostratus, an Asiatic Greek. The impact it had was massive. It appealed to both a sense of beauty and a curiosity for science—something typical for that time. Poets and engineers praised it together. Just as the Parthenon became synonymous with Athens and St. Peter’s is associated with Rome, the Pharos became a symbol of Alexandria, and Alexandria became the Pharos in the minds of people. Never before in architectural history has a secular building been so revered and taken on a life of its own. It called out to the imagination, not just to ships at sea, and long after its light went out, memories of it continued to shine in people’s minds.

It was located in a columned courtyard. (Plan II p. 135). There were four floors. (Plan I, Fig. i). The square ground floor had many windows and contained about 300 rooms for the workers and attendants. There was a spiral staircase—likely a double spiral—and in the center, there may have been hydraulic machinery for lifting fuel to the top; otherwise, we can picture a line of donkeys constantly going up and down the spirals with loads of wood on their backs. The floor concluded with a square platform and a cornice adorned with figures of Tritons. Here too, in large lead letters, was the Greek inscription: “Sostratus of Cnidos, son of Dexiphanes: to the Saviour Gods: for sailors”—an inscription that, despite its simplicity, had a double meaning. The “Saviour Gods” obviously refer to Castor and Pollux, who protect sailors, but an observant noble could also interpret them as Ptolemy Soter and Berenice, whose worship their son was endorsing.

135The second floor was octagonal and completely occupied by the spiral staircase. Above that was the circular third floor, and on top of it all was the lantern. The details about the lighting are unclear. Visitors mention a mysterious “mirror” at the top, which was even more amazing than the building itself. What was this “mirror”? Was it a polished steel reflector for the fire at night or a tool for solar signaling during the day? Some stories describe it as being made of finely crafted glass or clear stone, claiming that someone sitting beneath it could see ships at sea that were invisible to the naked eye. A telescope? Could it be that the great Alexandrian school of mathematics invented the lens, and that their invention was lost and forgotten when the Pharos collapsed? It’s possible. What is certain is that the lighthouse was equipped with every scientific advancement known at the time, that the ancient world never surpassed it, and that the medieval world viewed it as the work of supernatural beings.

Standing on the lantern was a statue of Poseidon. This capped the tower, which was definitely over 400 feet tall and maybe even close to 500.

(2) Building History.

We now need to explore this incredible engineering feat through stories of myth and forgetfulness. It kept its shape and purpose intact until the Arab Conquest (A.D. 641). The first and irreversible disaster was the collapse of the lantern (around 700), which led to the loss of scientific equipment that couldn’t be replaced. There’s a legend that this disaster was orchestrated by the Byzantine Emperor, who was unable to attack Egypt because of the magical “Mirror” that either detected or destroyed his ships. He sent an agent to gain the trust of the Caliph and told him that the treasure of Alexander the Great was buried beneath the Pharos. The Caliph began the demolition, and before the people of Alexandria, who knew better, could step in, the top two stories had fallen into the sea. From then on, the Pharos became just a stump with a bonfire on top.

There were repairs made during Ibn Touloun's time (880), and again around 980, but they were just minor additions to the Octagon that the wind could easily blow away. Structural repairs were ignored, and by 1100, the second disaster struck—the Octagon itself collapsed due to an earthquake. The square base survived, but only as a watchtower, on top of which a small square mosque was constructed. (see Plan I, Fig. ii, which shows the condition of the Pharos. The ground level has risen due to debris from the octagon, and the lower story has been reinforced). Then came the final earthquake in the 14th century, marking the end of its slow decline.

136Although the Arabs couldn’t save the Pharos, they admired it and, with their love for the extraordinary, talked about a statue on it whose finger tracked the daily movement of the sun, a second statue that chimed with beautiful sounds to mark the hours of the day, and a third that would sound an alarm whenever an enemy fleet set sail. The first two statues might have existed; the people of Alexandria enjoyed such curiosities. There’s also some truth in another Arab legend that claims the building rested on a “glass crab.” Some glass-like material likely did make up the foundation, and we know that “Cleopatra’s Needle” actually sat on metal crabs (p. 162); the Eastern mind seems to have mixed up the two monuments. The legend peaks with a story about a group of horsemen visiting the Pharos who get lost in the 300 rooms, and accidentally ride into a crack in the glass crab’s back, tumbling into the sea! But sometimes the lighthouse hosted more pleasant adventures. For instance, the poet El Deraoui writes:

Moreover, “El Manarah,” as the Arabs called it, gave its name to and became the model for the “minaret.” There isn't a minaret in Alexandria that closely resembles the Pharos, but in Cairo (for example, at the Tombs of the Mamelukes), you can still see the square base, the octagon, the rounded section, and the summit that precisely replicate the four-stage design of Sostratus.

Fort Kait Bey.

For a hundred years, ruins littered the peninsula. Then, in 1480, the Mameluke Sultan Kait Bey fortified it as part of his coastal defense against the Turks, who had taken Constantinople and were threatening Egypt. (p. 81). Kait Bey is a significant figure in Cairo, where mosques honor his glorious reign. Here, he built a fort, and like all his work, it was architecturally impressive, and even in decay, its outlines are pleasing. The design was a pentagon (Plan II), and in the enclosed area, exactly where the Pharos once stood, there was a square castle or keep with a mosque integrated into it. (Plan I, Fig. iii, which shows the castle before it was ruined, the minaret rising up inside it). The Turks conquered it in 1517, and when their power declined, Mohammed Ali (1805-1848) modernized the defenses. No visitors were allowed, and the Fort gained a reputation as an impregnable and mysterious place. Its story ended with the English bombardment in 1882. Although it didn’t suffer as much as its neighbor Fort Adda, it sustained significant damage. The castle was destroyed, the minaret broken, and the desolation and squalor returned to haunt the area today.

We can now take a look at the existing remains. (See Plans I & II pp. 134 & 135.)

The connecting strip of land only formed in the 9th century. Before that, there was shallow water crossed by a bridge. To the right, as we get closer, is the anchorage for an Italian fishing fleet; the men come from Bari in the Adriatic. The road runs alongside the fort to the new breakwater, which was built to protect the Eastern Harbour and the seawall. The breakwater is an impressive structure, and it's a shame it’s accessed through an entrance that looks like an English provincial jail; the decorations of modern Alexandria are overly gloomy.

The blocked-up Gateway to the Fort is lined with round towers; inside, there are several rooms featuring 15th-century vaulting. To its left, either built into the masonry of Kait Bey’s wall or lying on the beach, are about thirty broken columns made of red Assouan granite, as well as two or three pieces of fine speckled granite and one piece of marble. These remnants come from the Pharos and may have originally stood in the colonnade of its surrounding courtyard; the sea wall of that courtyard likely diverged here from the line of Kait Bey’s wall, and there are signs of cutting among the rocks.

The inside of the Fort (best accessed from the right) is now just an empty space with a few coast guard huts. The solitary building at the end is what's left of Kait Bey’s Castle, which sits on the site of the Pharos and partly uses its foundations. Some of these foundations can be seen in the corridor immediately to the right of the Castle. The orientation of the Castle and the Pharos wasn't exactly the same, since the Castle had to be aligned with the compass points due to the mosque it included. The modern buildings to the right of the corridor also rest on old foundations; it's believed that this is where a reservoir filled with fresh water from the mainland stood, and that on the other side (to the left of the current Castle) was another structure with mechanical statues to balance the design. But this is all just speculation.

The Mosque in the Castle is notable for two reasons: architecturally, it's the oldest in the city, and in style, it's essentially Cairene. It was built by the central government as part of their coastal defense project, so it doesn't look like the typical mosque in the Delta. The entrance features five monolithic columns of Assouan granite, sourced from the Pharos, creating an almost druidic effect, but the arch above and the towers on either side faintly hint at the impressive work of Kait Bey in Cairo. Inside the vestibule, you'll find remnants of stucco on the ceiling and marble on the floor. The actual Mosque follows the “school” design—a square with an arched recess opening from each side, with each recess dedicated to one of the four orthodox sects of Islam; the Mosque of Sultan Hassan in Cairo is a well-known example of this design. The square and the steps leading up to each recess are inlaid with marble, and light comes in through carved woodwork above.

Above the mosque are vaulted rooms. From the top of the structure, there’s a view of Alexandria, not picturesque but informative. From right to left, you can see: Fort Adda, the Ras-el-Tin lighthouse (in the background); the minarets of Abou el Abbas and Bouseiri Mosques (in the foreground); Kom-el-Nadur Fort; Terbana Mosque (in the foreground); Pompey’s Pillar (in the back); Kom-el-Dik Fort; the long stretch of Eastern suburbs; beyond them, the distant minaret of Sidi Bishr; the coastline ends at the forested promontory of Montazah. Right below is the modern Breakwater extending towards the opposing promontory of Silsileh; and to the left, waves crash against the Diamond Rock. Now, let the visitor (if they’re up for it) elevate themselves 400 feet higher into the air. Let them replace the Ras-el-Tin lighthouse with a Temple to Poseidon; let them remove the mosques and the ground they stand on, and instead picture a body of water crossed by a dyke; let them add to “Pompey’s Pillar” the Temple of Serapis and Isis and the massive walls of the Library; let them transform Kom-el-Dik into a beautiful and fantastical park, with the Tomb of Alexander at its base; and the Eastern Suburbs into gardens; and finally, let them imagine that instead of Silsileh stretching out towards them, it’s the peak of the Ptolemaic Palace, sheltering to its right the ships of the royal fleet and flanked on the landward side by the tiers of the theater and the groves of the Mouseion. Then they might have some idea of what Ancient Alexandria looked like from the top of the Pharos—what it looked like when the Arabs entered in the fall of 641.

Beneath the Batteries on the north side of the Fort, and nearly at beach level, there's a long gallery where some shells fired by the English in 1882 are located.

The tram now follows the curve of the Eastern Harbour, a beautifully shaped basin. It was the main harbor in ancient times, but when Mohammed Ali designed the modern city, he developed the Western Harbour instead (p. 91). There’s a sea wall in two sections to break the waves that crash onto the road during rough weather; and there’s a really nice promenade—the New Quays—which stretches all the way from Kait Bey to Silsileh. A walk along it can be enjoyable, although it can sometimes be spoiled by unpleasant smells. We pass by the Bouseiri Mosque (see above) on our right and finally reach the French Gardens, which connect with the Square where we started.

Left of the French Gardens are: the French Consulate—an isolated building; the General Post Office—accessible from the road behind; and the Church of St. Andrews—Church of Scotland. To the right, down Maronite Church Street, is the Maronite Church, a simple building; (for the Maronites see pp. 77, 213).

Route:—From Place St. Catherine and Pompey’s Pillar to the Mahmoudieh Canal, take the Karmous Tram (Green Lozenge). The Ragheb Pasha Tram (Red Crescent) and the Moharrem Bey Tram (Red Circle) also run from the Square to the Canal. Additionally, there is the “Circular” Tram (Green Triangle) that connects all three lines mentioned, traveling from Cairo Railway Station to the Docks. There is a road alongside the Canal.

Key points of interest:—Pompey’s Pillar, Kom es Chogafa Catacombs, the Canal.

141The Southern Quarters aren't upscale or charming. However, they contain the location of Rhakotis, the heart of ancient Alexandria, and hold some impressive historical artifacts (see pp. 7, 18). This area is also home to the churches and schools associated with various religious and political groups (see p. 211).

We start from the south side of the Square and quickly reach Place St. Catherine, a triangular green space. This is the traditional site of St. Catherine’s martyrdom, from where she was taken to Mount Sinai by angels. However, the legend is only from the 9th century, and it’s unlikely that the saint ever actually existed (see p. 46). Franciscans established themselves here in the 15th century and built a church that no longer exists. In 1832, Mohammed Ali granted land to the Roman Catholics, and construction of the current Cathedral Church of St. Catherine began. The building collapsed during construction, but undeterred by this bad omen, the builders continued, and this is the result. The Cathedral is stark on the outside and shabby on the inside, making no effort to celebrate the beautiful legend that has inspired so much in the West; St. Catherine of Alexandria lacks grace in her own city. However, the approach to the church offers a certain ecclesiastical calm. Behind it (accessible from Rue Sidi el Metwalli) is the Catholic Archbishop’s Palace; the tomb of the Muslim Saint Sidi el Metwalli, a previous resident, borders the Archbishop’s garden.

Left of the Cathedral is another one that's just as lacking in taste—the Cathedral of the Greek Community (Greek Orthodox) dedicated to the Annunciation. The Community Schools are nearby.

142Head left after leaving Place St. Catherine:—Rue Sidi el Metwalli, following the path of the ancient Canopic Way; it goes past the Attarine Mosque, which is definitely worth checking out. Once, more significant buildings were on this prominent site. There used to be a church dedicated to St. Athanasius, built shortly after his death (4th century). During the Arab Conquest (7th century), the church was turned into a large mosque, square-shaped like the Mosque of Ibn Touloun in Cairo, extending to the north of the current structure; travelers confused it for the tomb or palace of Alexander the Great. Inside was an ancient sarcophagus weighing nearly seven tons. The English, learning that Alexander had once been here, took the sarcophagus away when they took over Alexandria in 1801. (see p. 88). The French objected, and the sheikhs of the Mosque, deeply affected, came down to the boat to bid farewell to the relic. The sarcophagus is now housed in the British Museum and has been identified as belonging to the native Pharaoh Nekht Heru Hebt, dated 378 B.C.—The current Mosque is wedge-shaped with a minaret at the tip; it's a nice example of modern Islamic architecture. It has a second facade on the Rue Attarine (Scent Bazaar), which is where it gets its name. Inside is the Tomb of Said Mohammed (13th century), a friend of Abou el Abbas (p. 126).—Beyond that, the road becomes Rosette Street (see Section I); to the right is the American Mission Church and the Cairo Station.

Right after leaving the Place:—a neighborhood where the Armenian community lives (see p. 212). Their church is simple yet quite charming, featuring the projecting western vestibule typical of Armenian architecture, like the Metropolitan Cathedral of Etchmiadzine. In the graveyard, there are monuments of Nubar Pasha by Puech (see p. 155) and of Takvor Pasha. In the school grounds, there's a black basalt sphinx.

Straight ahead after leaving the Place is the Rue Abou el Dardaa. To the right, where it turns into Prince Moneim Street, in the grounds of a florist named Mousny, are some remnants of the Old Protestant 143Cemetery. The burials here are from a later period than those at St. Saba (p. 106). The most notable is the tomb of Henry Salt. Salt, a lively yet somewhat dubious Englishman with an artistic flair, first came to this region in 1809 when he was sent on a mission to Abyssinia. Six years later, he became Consul General and got involved with the financial schemes of Mohammed Ali (p. 90), agreeing to his illegal monopolies. He was a passionate archaeologist of the commercial kind and secured permits to excavate in Upper Egypt, offering the finds, at steep prices, to the British Museum. After considerable negotiation, the Museum purchased his collection in 1823. He died near Alexandria in 1827. The quirky inscription on his tomb reads:—

His quick genius explored and explained the Hieroglyphics and other ancient artifacts of this country. His accurate and swift sketches, along with the raw originality of his untrained senses, shared with the world vivid images of the scenes that had thrilled him.

Some of the tombs are concealed among plants and ferns. The Cemetery used to be much bigger; the road has sliced through it.

At the end of the Abou el Dardaa Street, where the tram turns, is the Mosque of Amr. Here, the Mosque of Mercy likely stood, which the conqueror Amr ordered to be built where he had put away his sword after reclaiming the city in 643 (see p. 57).

We turn right for a few yards along a road that follows the line of the lost Arab Walls (p. 81). Then we take a left by the large Italian schools. The tram has now entered the historic district of Rhakotis.

As is often the case in Alexandria, history and archaeology don't align. Ancient writers don't mention “Pompey’s Pillar,” but they talk a lot about the buildings that used to be nearby and have now vanished. This unshapely hill has long been covered with temples and houses. Long before Alexander arrived, it was the citadel of Rhakotis (p. 7). Osiris was worshipped here. Then, with Ptolemy Soter, it gained recognition. Osiris transformed into Serapis (p. 18), and the hill, fortified with massive stone walls, became an acropolis on which the God’s temple stood. Under Cleopatra, it gained even more grandeur. The famous library of Alexandria had been burned during the Caesarian war, and the queen started a new collection that she added to the Serapeum. For four hundred years, this was the most learned place on earth. The Christians destroyed it. In 391, Patriarch Theophilus (p. 50) led a mob against the temple, plundered it, and broke the statue of the God. It's impossible that the books didn’t perish at the same time: they were stored in the cloisters surrounding the temple (see below), so the mob had to pass them to reach their main target. Monks then swarmed over the hill and built a church dedicated to St. John the Baptist in the ruined shrine. This became the headquarters of Theophilus’ nephew, Cyril (p. 51), from where his followers set out to murder Hypatia on the other side of town (415). With the Arab invasion, things got worse. The library had already vanished (the myth blaming them for burning it has the flimsiest basis), but they caused plenty of damage in other ways: one Arab governor threw a bunch of columns into the sea in an attempt to hinder a rival fleet. When the Crusaders came to Egypt (15th cent.), the original design of the Acropolis had disappeared, and they noticed this solitary pillar. The Crusaders weren’t scholars, but they had heard of Pompey, so they named the pillar after him and claimed that his head was enclosed in a ball at the top. (see Belon’s View p. 83). This mistake has been continued, and visitors must remember, first, that the pillar has nothing to do with Pompey and second, that it is a lesser monument that the accident of time has preserved: it is a part, and a small part, of the glory of the Temple of Serapis.

The following remains can be visited (see Plan 144).

(i). “Pompey’s Pillar.” 84 feet tall and about 7 feet thick; made of red granite from Assouan. It’s an impressive yet awkward structure. Architecture hasn’t come up with anything more ridiculous than a monumental column; there’s no logical reason for its existence, nor much need for it to stop existing, and this one isn’t even well proportioned. The base is interesting. It consists of blocks taken from older buildings. On the eastern face (nearest the turnstile) is a block of green granite with an inscription in Greek honoring Arsinoe, the sister and wife of Ptolemy Philadelphus (p. 14). On the opposite face (upside down in a recess) is the figure and hieroglyph of Seti I (B.C. 1350), indicating the ancient history of the settlement on Rhakotis.

Why and when was the pillar installed?

Probably to Emperor Diocletian, around A.D. 297. There is a four-line Greek inscription dedicated to him on the granite base on the western side, about 10 feet up. It is unreadable and essentially invisible from the ground. Generations of scholars have studied it with the following result:—

“To the most just Emperor, the protective God of Alexandria, Diocletian the unbeatable: Postumus, governor of Egypt.”

The powerful Emperor (p. 46) had defeated a rebellion here and was a deity to be honored; the column, built in the area of Serapis, would celebrate his strength and mercy and likely featured his statue on top. There's another theory: that the column was dedicated after the Christians' victory in 391 and praises the new religion; if that's the case, it must have originally been pagan, because by this time, the people of Alexandria didn't have the resources or power to construct a new monument of that scale.

(ii). The Temple of Serapis. To the west of the Pillar, accessible by a staircase, are long underground hallways carved into the rock and lined with limestone. These were likely part of the Serapeum—some kind of basement—and eager visitors have even suggested that they were the library where the books were stored; there are small semi-circular niches inside of unknown purpose. Some marble columns are located above on the surface. South of the Pillar, close to the Sphinxes, are more passageways lined with cement; these may also have been part of the temple. Everything is speculative, and the layout of the Serapeum, as we learn from classical writers, does not fit well with the remains that are currently visible. According to them, it was rectangular and stood in the center of a cloister, connected to each of its sides by a cross-colonnade. The temple included a large hall and an inner shrine. The architecture was likely Greek; certainly, the statue was—made of blue-black marble (p. 19), crafted by Bryaxis.

(iii). The Temple of Isis. Isis, the wife of Osiris, was also closely associated with his successor Serapis, and during the Ptolemaic period, her temple was situated on the plateau. North of the Pillar, there are some excavations that have been linked to it.

(iv). Two Sphinxes. Located in the enclosure and placed south of the Pillar. Made from Assouan granite.

(v). Fragments of a Frieze. These beautifully crafted pieces in granite are located on the slope east of the Pillar; we pass them on our way up. Date:—around the 1st century A.D. They might have been part of the grand entrance gate of the temple enclosure. If you take a moment to reflect on them, you may regain some sense of the shrine. Notice how the Pillar itself evokes a sense of lost glory and strength.

This wraps up the remains. They are underwhelming for such a well-known location, but there is one satisfying thing: this is the actual spot. Long in question, it has been confirmed by the statues and inscriptions discovered here; they are now in the Museum; see Rooms 6, 12, and 16.

Just past the fence of Pompey’s Pillar, we take a right turn off the tram route and in ten minutes arrive at the Kom es Chogafa Catacombs.

Through the turnstile (5 piastres) is modern asphalt laid down to keep the underground areas dry. To the left, there are four elegant sarcophagi made of purplish granite. Above, you can see the original level of the hill, which has been lowered by quarrying and excavations; its slopes have some old, cemented passages that aren't particularly interesting. At the top of the hill, there's a mosaic made of black and white stones, a lot of which is missing. The entrance to the catacombs is down the larger of the two glassed well-shafts.

The Catacombs of Kom es Chogafa ("Hill of Tiles") are the most significant in the city and are unlike anything else out there: nothing quite like them has been found. They are unique both in their layout and their decorations, which interestingly combine classical and Egyptian styles; only in Alexandria could such a combination exist. Their size, their stunning views, and their eerie sculptures are really impressive, especially on a first visit. After that, their allure fades because they are more strange than beautiful, and they express spirituality more than organized religion. Date—around the 2nd century A.D. when the old faiths started to merge and blend. Name of occupants—unknown. There’s a theory that they started as a family tomb that was expanded by a burial society. They were only discovered in 1900.

The plan should be understood before going down; there are three levels, and the bottom one is underwater. (See Plan p. 148).

The Staircase (A) is illuminated from a well, where the dead bodies were lowered by ropes.—It leads to the Vestibule (B). Here, there are two semi-circular niches, each equipped with a bench and elegantly vaulted with a shell—a classical feature not found in ancient Egyptian art. Nearby is the Rotunda (C): at its center is a well, surrounded by a parapet with 8 pillars that support a domed roof. A circular walkway goes around the well.—To the left of the Rotunda is the Banquet Hall (D), where friends and relatives gathered to eat ceremonially in memory of the deceased. It's a somber scene. Here, carved from the limestone, are three couches where they reclined on mattresses; the table in the center 150has vanished; it was likely made of wood. Pillars uphold the roof.—From the Rotunda, a Staircase (E) leads down to the second level; the incredible Central Tomb is now revealed; strange effects can be created by adjusting the electric lights. The Staircase is topped with a shell ornament; halfway down, it splits on each side at something resembling a prompter's box; this conceals another staircase that descends to the third level, which is now submerged.

THE MAIN TOMB.

In the Vestibule (F), the Egyptian theme is strong. In the front, there are two beautiful columns with intricate capitals and two pilasters with square papyrus capitals—altogether, they support a cornice decorated with the winged Sun (Ra) and guardian falcons. Inside the Vestibule, on the right and left, are white limestone statues of a man and woman—the owner and possibly his wife. On the far wall, the mix of religious and artistic symbols becomes more overwhelming. Two fierce, bearded serpents guard the entrance to the Tomb Chamber, each wrapped around the pine cone of Dionysus and the serpent wand of Hermes, and both wearing the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt. Above each serpent is a Medusa depicted in a round shield. Above the inner door frame is the winged Sun and a frieze of snakes.

The Tomb Chamber (G) has three large sarcophagi, all carved from the rock. They are classical in style—adorned with garlands of fruit or flowers, Medusa Heads, ox skulls, etc. The lids don’t come off; the mummies would have been pushed in from the passage behind (see below). However, none of the three sarcophagi have ever been used; it's part of the strangeness of Kom es Chogafa that its extensive and intricate setup for mourning ends in emptiness.

In the space above each sarcophagus are bas reliefs, Egyptian in style but created with a lack of complete understanding.

Centre niche (G.i). A mummy on a lion-shaped bier: the lion wears the crown of Osiris and has the feather of Maat, the goddess of truth, at its feet. Behind the bier stands Anubis, the god of embalming; at its head is Thoth, holding the symbol of immortality; at its foot is Horus; beneath it are three “Canopic” deities—vases for the intestines—there should be four.—Lateral relief: On the left, a man with a priest; on the right, a woman with a priest.

Right-hand niche (G.ii). A beautifully designed prince, wearing the double crown of Egypt, offers a collar to the Apis Bull, who stands on a pedestal with the Sun between his horns. Behind the Apis, Isis holds the feather of truth and extends her protective wings, creating a nice decorative effect.—Lateral reliefs: On the left, a king stands before a god (Chons?); on the right, two "Canopic" deities, one with an ape head and one that is a mummy.

151Left-hand niche (G.iii).—Similar to the right side, except that on the right lateral wall, one of the “Canopic” deities has a hawk's head.

On either side of the entrance door stands a strange figure. To the right, as you exit, is Anubis, with a dog's head, but dressed like a Roman soldier, complete with armor, a short sword, a lance, and a shield. To the left is the god Sebek, who, although mainly a crocodile, is also outfitted in military gear with a cloak and spear. Perhaps this odd pair was meant to guard the tomb, but you shouldn't read too much into them or anything here; the workers were just focused on creating a room that looked fitting for death, and by that measure, they succeeded.

Surrounding the central tomb is a wide passage (HHH) lined with two rows of niches that could hold nearly 300 mummies. Where the passage goes behind the central tomb, you can see the openings through which the three grand sarcophagi were carved out and where the mummies would have been placed. Leading out of this passage is another tomb chamber (I) and, to the left, a large gallery (JJJJ), equipped with receptacles in the usual style.

All the above chambers are part of a single layout. We now return to the Rotunda (C) and enter, through a break in the rock, a completely different set of tombs. They are lit by a square Well (K) and were accessed by a separate staircase that is now in ruins. The Hall (L) is whimsically called the Hall of Caracalla because that emperor killed many young people from Alexandria whom he had called for a review, and because many bones of men and horses have been found mixed together on its floors; it is lined with tomb cavities in the usual style.—The Gallery (M) features a rather charming tomb: it was once covered with white stucco and delicately painted. In the niche above the sarcophagus are Isis and her sister Nephtys, spreading their wings over the mummy of Osiris. More figures can be seen on the side walls. Above, on the inner wall, the soul is depicted as a bird. Above the entrance, the Sun and a golden Vase are flanked by a sphinx on either side, each with her paw resting on a wheel.

We now climb the staircase (A). View of Mariout. Those who aren't tired of empty tombs will find many more to the right, down a stairway carved into the rock.

Just below Kom es Chogafa, the Mahmoudieh Canal runs, created by Mohammed Ali (for more details see p. 91). There’s a road next to it that goes to the right, leading into the area of cotton warehouses. (Section VI).—To the left, you can walk or drive all the way to Nouzha (Section IV). The path is sometimes enjoyable, sometimes not. It intersects at Moharrem Bey with the Farkha Canal, which branches off from the Mahmoudieh Canal at a right angle and extends all the way to the sea.—Further along, there’s a shaded area known as the “Champs Elysées,” which neither resembles the Parisian original for better or worse.

Route:—Take the Nouzha Tram (green trefoil) at the south end of Boulevard Ramleh, just off the Square. The Rond Point Tram (white star) goes through the Square, but doesn’t go beyond the Water Works—about halfway to Nouzha.

Key Highlights:—City Gardens; Nouzha and Antoniadis Gardens.

154For the Boulevard Ramleh see Section V. After passing through it, the tram turns right and goes by the Alhambra Theatre, the only one in town—not a bad building. Just past the Theatre, a road branches off to the left, leading to the Cathedral of the Coptic Catholic Patriarchate, (p. 212) or Church of the Resurrection. The building is not notable, but it's interesting for anyone wanting to delve into the church's history in Alexandria. It was dedicated in 1902 by Patriarch Cyril II and funded by Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria, as an inscription near the entrance (which will be removed soon) indicates; the other date—1618—follows the Coptic Calendar, which starts with the persecutions of the 3rd century, not the birth of Christ. (p. 47). The church's facade is modeled after that of St. John Lateran in Rome. Beyond the church are the British Consulate and the Egyptian Government Hospital (Section V).

The tram makes a left turn onto the Sultan Hussein Street, which is still commonly called the Rue d'Allemagne, and goes between the Menasce Schools (Jewish) and Cromer Park, a small fenced garden set aside for women and babies. —Place Said, a round space where a large Ptolemaic column stands, commemorating the retaking of Khartoum on September 2nd, 1898; on either side of the column are statues of the lion-headed goddess, Sekhet. The local women who sometimes gather in large groups at the Place are professional mourners and wait for a funeral from the Egyptian Government Hospital located behind. There are roads leading from the Place: to the left, toward Mazarita Station on the Ramleh tram line (Section V); to the right, toward the Rosette Street. (Section I).

To the left, the Municipal Gardens are small but wonderfully designed; the planner, M. Monfront, has demonstrated real talent in his handling of the space. The gardens follow the path of the Arab Walls (p. 81) and also cross over the old Farkha Canal that used to link the Mahmoudieh Canal to the sea (p. 152). Both features have been thoughtfully incorporated; the fortifications have transformed into charming hillocks or remain as piles of stone that, while not particularly impressive on their own, are cleverly arranged to look medieval under the moonlight. Meanwhile, the water from the canal has been retained in an artificial pond, which is home to ducks. The gardens are worth exploring in depth. In them—visible from the tram—is a Statue of Nubar Pasha, created by Puech; the tarboosh is a bit oversized, but the overall impression is dignified. His left hand rests on a tablet that reads “La justice est la base de tout Gouvernement,” and the same phrase is inscribed on the pedestal. Nubar was Armenian—a politician whose integrity is judged differently by many, though his competence is undeniable. He became a minister under Khedive Ismail (1878) and attempted to manage his finances, also serving under Tewfik. As his favorite motto indicates, he was cautious by nature. He is buried outside the Armenian Church, (p. 143).

The tram reaches the end of the Rosette Street (Section I) and goes through the park gardens: they continue on the right, still following the path of the old Arab walls and using the slopes, and are set to extend even further to the railway station; they will then create a large horseshoe. On the left are the Roman Catholic Cemeteries, and in the second one, at the end of the main path, is a beautiful Antique Tomb that's worth a visit. It sits in a hollow; huge alabaster walls have collapsed, revealing their shiny surfaces. The shrine (Heroon) of Pompey was located nearby, and some have proposed that this was the actual spot where his head was placed after his murderers brought it to Julius Caesar; this is purely speculative, but the tomb could indeed date back to that time (B.C. 48) because the craftsmanship is excellent. To the right, in the newer section of the cemetery, are more ancient tombs, including a cemented shaft with foot holds carved inside.

156Almost directly across from the entrance to the Cemetery is the War Memorial for French Soldiers, a shortened obelisk made of Carrara marble. It was created as a heartfelt tribute to his fallen comrades by Mons. V. Erlanger, the French architect from Alexandria, and was unveiled on April 23, 1921, by Lord Allenby.

The scroll facing the main road has the following inscription:

“In memory of French soldiers who fell during the Great War and offered by members of the British community to the French colony to commemorate the glorious acts of bravery performed by the French armies from 1914 to 1918.”

Now the tram turns right by the Rosetta Gate Police Station, topped with a turret clock in honor of King Edward VII, and arrives at the Rond Point, where the Waterworks are located, and up the hill is Hadra Prison. It then crosses the railway, the old Hadra cemetery (see Museum Room 19), and Hadra village, finally reaching its end point at Nouzha, near the Nouzha railway station and the Mahmoudieh Canal.

Nouzha was a neighborhood of Eleusis during Ptolemaic times. This is where the poet Callimachus lived (p. 30); it was here (B.C. 168) that the Roman general Popillius confronted the King of Syria, who was about to take Alexandria. Popillius drew a circle in the sand around him and forced him to choose between peace and war. It was also here (A.D. 640) that Amr's cavalry was stationed (p. 55) before entering the city.—The Gardens are located across the railway. They have been developed by the Municipality from a small park belonging to Ismail and are truly beautiful; if one were to judge Alexandria by its gardens, one would only have praise. Some gardens are formal while others are more relaxed; those who like pelicans can find them in a pond to the right. Straight ahead are the zoological garden, a bandstand, and a restaurant, with views over Lake Hadra towards Abou el Nawatir (Section V).—To the right of the bandstand is an area that requires an entry fee; this too should be visited as it features impressive trees and flowers, as well as greenhouses.

Above the pelican pond, a small gate leads from the Nouzha Gardens into the Antoniadis Gardens (entrance fee varies depending on the day of the week). These gardens also belong to the Municipality of Alexandria. They’re filled with modern statues that, while not particularly impressive, create a nice formal look. The trees and vines are lovely, and there's a beautiful lawn behind the house. Until recently, the wealthy Antoniadis family, who were Greeks, lived here.

In the field behind the Antoniadis Gardens, there's an old Tomb. The easiest way to get there is through the back gate, which a gardener sometimes unlocks; otherwise, you have to go back to the Nouzha Gardens, exit, and follow the canal for a bit, then turn left. The tomb is hidden behind an odd spiral of rockwork. You access it by going down a flight of steps, and the hall is often flooded. It's laid out the same way as at Anfouchi (p. 126); a sunken hall from which three tomb chambers open.

The road past the Gardens, along the edge of the Canal, is nice and likely follows the path of the old Canal to Canopus, where the people of Alexandria used to travel by barge to have fun and worship Serapis. At one point, it runs beside the waters of Hadra.

The other way (west) the Canal flows into the city (Section II) finally entering the Harbour.—(For history of the Canal see p. 91).

There’s a road that goes straight from Nouzha to Sidi Gaber (Section V) along the lakeside. It passes by the spot where two giant statues were found: Antony as Osiris and Cleopatra as Isis. Antony is in the Museum (Garden Court, p. 120).

Route:—Walk 10 minutes along Boulevard Ramleh to the tram line terminus. Then take the tram with the red label to Bulkeley, San Stefano, and Victoria. The tram with the blue label goes to San Stefano only, via Bacos. The service is decent.

Key points of Interest:—The Sea; the view from Abou el Nawatir; private gardens; the Spouting Rocks.

160We begin at the northeast corner of the Square and take the Rue de l'Ancienne Bourse, where on the right is the Union Club, popular with the British, and on the left is the old Bourse—it's not a bad building, featuring a portico of marble columns and a vaulted interior; it now houses the offices of Lloyd Triestino. The street continues into the Boulevard Ramleh—turn right.

The Boulevard (officially Ramleh Train Station Road) is a bustling, run-down street, packed with people coming to or from the tram station.

Right off Boulevard, on Debbane Street, there's a Greek and Syrian Catholic Church dedicated to St. Peter. (p. 213). It was built by Count Debbane, a Syrian under Brazilian protection who got his title from the Pope. His family vault stretches the entire length of the Chancel. The scene isn't particularly interesting, but it reflects the complicated mix of religion and race in Alexandria.

Left from the Boulevard, at the end of Averoff Street, is the church of the Armenian Catholics (p. 213).

Right from Boulevard, on Coptic Church Street, is the Cathedral of the Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate (p. 212) dedicated to St. Mark. Anyone who’s never been to a Coptic Church should take a look inside. It’s remarkably unattractive. On the screen that separates the nave from the sanctuary are several images—among them St. Damiana with her wheel; she is the local Egyptian Saint who likely inspired St. Catherine of Alexandria: surrounding her are the forty maidens who shared her martyrdom. In the sanctuary are some images of St. Mark, whose original church is mistakenly thought to have stood on this site (p. 46); he is depicted writing his Gospel or standing between Cleopatra’s Needle and Pompey’s Pillar. Outside the 161 Church are the Schools, awkwardly decorated with a Lion of St. Mark in the Venetian style.

Right from Boulevard, the Nebi Daniel Street goes past the main Jewish Synagogue to the Rose Street (Section I).

The Boulevard ends at the tram stop. To the right is the road to Nouzha (Section IV), and to the left is the sea and the New Quays (Section II).

On this blank landscape once stood an enormous temple, the Caesareum, along with a pair of obelisks, Cleopatra’s Needles.

(i). Caesareum history.—Cleopatra started it to honor Antony (p. 26). After their suicide, Octavian completed it to honor himself. (B.C. 13). He was worshipped there as Caesar Augustus, and the temple remained under imperial control until Christian times. Constantius II (A.D. 354) planned to give it to the Church, but before that could happen, St. Athanasius, always proactive, held an Easter Service inside it. The Emperor was not pleased. Two years later, his troops nearly killed Athanasius inside the building, and they gave it to the Arians. The Arians and Orthodox fought over it, destroying it in the process. (p. 49). Athanasius, just back from his final exile, built a church on the ruins dedicated to St. Michael, but it continued to be known as the famous Caesareum. It became the Cathedral of Alexandria, replacing St. Theonas (p. 189). Here in 416, Hypatia was killed in a brutal attack (p. 51). Here in 640, Patriarch Cyrus held a solemn service before betraying the city to the Arabs (p. 55). Date of final destruction—912.

(ii). Looks. We don’t know much about the temple's architecture, but the Jewish philosopher Philo (p. 63) writes about it during its time of glory:

“It is a piece that is truly unmatched. It sits by a very convenient harbor: wonderfully tall and large in scale; a prominent landmark at sea: filled with exquisite paintings and statues, with plenty of offerings and donations; and it's beautifully adorned with gold and silver all around; the layout is intricate and well-organized, including galleries, libraries, porches, courtyards, halls, paths, and sacred groves, as magnificent as money and artistry could create, with everything in its right place; plus, it serves as a source of hope and comfort for sailors, whether they are arriving or departing.”

(iii). The Obelisks. In front of the Caesareum (between the current tram stop and the sea) stood “Cleopatra’s Needles,” one of which is now in Central Park, New York, and the other 162 on the Embankment in London. They had no connection to Cleopatra until after her death. They were carved from granite in the quarries of Assouan for Thothmes III (B.C. 1500) and erected by him at Heliopolis near Cairo, in front of the temple of the Rising Sun. In B.C. 13, they were moved here by the engineer Pontius. They didn’t rest directly on their bases but on four huge metal crabs, one of which has been recovered. Statues of Hermes or of Victory topped them. During the Arab period, when everything around them fell into ruin, they became the main wonder of the city. One toppled. They remained in place until the 19th century, when they were separated and embarked on their final journeys, the fallen one going to England in 1877 and the other to the United States two years later.

The walls of the Arab city used to stretch all the way to the sea at this spot (cf. Belon’s View, p. 83). They ended at a tower that was demolished for the New Quays. Now we take the tram.

The first half mile of the tram lines crosses ground with immense historical significance. Every inch was once sacred or royal. To the left, the football fields were where the Ptolemaic Palaces (p. 17) stretched down to the sea and extended into it at the Promontory of Lochias (now Silsileh). There was also an island palace on a rock that has since vanished. The walls of the Mouseion are also said to have reached into this area, but we have no details and can only be sure that the Ancient World never exceeded the splendor of this scene. On the right, from the higher ground, the Theatre looked over it, and the plays of Aeschylus and Euripides could be performed against the backdrop of a newer and greater Greece. No one will witness that achievement again, and no one can imagine it. Grit and gravel have taken its place today.

Right on the way out:—The British Consulate, a grand building. Next to it, the Egyptian Government Hospital, likely built on the site of the Ancient Theatre, so it's worth checking out. In the garden, there's the tomb of Dr. Schiess, a former Director; it uses an early Christian sarcophagus, and on either side are striking Christian columns, probably from the 163church of St. Theonas (p. 46), each adorned with a cross in a small shrine. In the spiral path above the tomb, you'll find other antiques and a howitzer from Arabi; at the top, an old marble column stands, erected in honor of Queen Victoria’s Jubilee.

Mazarita Street—A road leads to the right to the Public Gardens (Section IV) and to the left to the Promontory of Silsileh (see above). The promontory, like the rest of the coast, has sunk over time; in ancient times it was wider and longer than it is now, extending out as breakwaters toward the Pharos (Fort Kait Bey), almost blocking the entrance to the Eastern Harbour. The private port of the Ptolemies was just to its left. A beacon, the Pharillon, stood at its tip during Arab times. The original Church of St. Mark, where the evangelist was buried, likely stood on the shore to its right. Today, there’s nothing to see except a coast-guard station and the outlet of the main drain.

Chatby Station—The tram has now entered the historic royal city and is moving into the area of the dead, where the dry ground has allowed for the creation of both ancient and modern cemeteries. On the right, you see the modern cemeteries, with the Jewish section closest to the tram line, followed by English, Greek, Armenian, and then Catholic cemeteries, which lead onto Aboukir Road (Section I). Close to the station are the large schools of the Greek Community and the Orwa el Woska schools. To the left of the station is the Sultanian Institute of Hydrobiology, which has a small but fascinating aquarium and an extensive, valuable technical library, as well as models of fishing boats, nets, and marine instruments. Visits can be arranged with the Director, Prof. Pachundaki. In the area in front of the Institute, some ancient mosaics were discovered recently (1921); they are said to be from a significant period and in good condition, but are not on display yet; hopefully, they will be available to see soon. Traces of ancient roads and drainage systems have also been found here.

164Chatby-les-Bains Station—Turn left, go to the fire station, then turn right. Here, in the area to the left of the road, is the famous Chatby Necropolis, the oldest in the Ptolemaic city (see Museum, especially Room 20 and the Garden Court). There's not much left. Close to the road, you'll find a tomb group of the Anfouchi type (p. 126) i.e. a sunken court with burial sites opening off it; at the end of the tombs, there’s a double sarcophagus shaped like a bed, complete with stone cushions.—To the right of the tram line, you can find more burial places, both Ptolemaic and Roman, stretching all the way to the canal.—The tram goes through a cutting; on the right is the beautiful French Lycée, funded by the French Government.

César Sta. Camp—Caesar never camped here. An unappealing suburb, once known as Eleusis by the Sea.

Ibrahimieh Street.—Then to the right, flat, fertile land emerges. This area is made up of delta deposits, which have built up against the narrow limestone ridge that supports Alexandria (p. 5). In the foreground, you can see the green grass of the Sporting Club; further in the distance are the trees of Nouzha and the waters of Hadra. Remnants of ancient cemeteries are visible on the dry ground to the left.

Sports Club Sta.—Near the Grand Stand of the Race Course. Bathing beach on the left.

Cleopatra Street—Cleopatra never actually lived here. Right by the famous fig trees of Sidi Gaber, thought to be the best in Egypt, you’ll also find broad-leaved bananas, maize, and more. A nice road goes across the railway and along the lake to Nouzha Gardens (Section IV); it can be lovely here in the evening. —To the left of the station, at the base of a cliff by the sea, is a Ptolemaic tomb with painted walls, but even while you describe such things, they are being destroyed. The reefs near this tomb create the charming little “Friars’ pool.”

165Sidi Gaber Station.—Near the main railway station where all the Cairo trains stop.—To the left, a road goes through beautiful trees to the Abercrombie Monument, which isn’t much to look at, but it’s significant for the British, as it honors our achievements in 1801 (p. 88). It’s a three-sided column made of white marble topped with a flaming urn. Inscription:

“To the memory of Sir Ralph Abercrombie K.B. & C. and the Officers and Men who fell at the battle of Alexandria, March 21st, 1801.... Just as his life was honorable, so was his death glorious. His memory will be recorded in the history of his country—will be sacred to every British soldier—and cherished in the memories of a grateful future generation.”

Near the Monument is the modern Mosque of Sidi Gaber, a kind local saint who wanders around at night, looking after children, etc.

Mustapha Pasha St.—Just up the road is the hill of Abou el Nawatir, the highest point near Alexandria, overlooking the lakes of Hadra and Mariout; it's a stunning view, especially at sunset. The square enclosure at the top belongs to the reservoir; to its southeast, halfway between it and the railway, a Gun lies in the sand. This is a remnant from the fighting in July 1882. General Alison stationed most of his artillery here (p. 96), and the gun still points towards the Mahmoudieh Canal, in the direction of Arabi’s camp.—To the left of Mustapha Pacha Sta. on the rise are the British Barracks, which occupy the site of the Roman settlement; history repeats itself, just as it has in the Cemeteries. Octavian’s town of Nicopolis, founded in B.C. 30 to intimidate Alexandria (p. 44), began here. Among the Roman units stationed here were the 2nd Trajana Fortis and the 3rd Cyrenaic; there are too many British here to count.

Carlton Station.—The large villa up the hill on the right was constructed by a German in the Greek style, without regard for cost or taste.

166Bulkeley Station—We are now in the center of Ramleh (“Sand”), the busy neighborhood where the British and other foreigners live. Beautiful private gardens, the best in Egypt. To the left of the station is Stanley Bay, a stunning stretch of coastline and a popular spot for swimming: also the Anglican Church of All Saints’. (p. 213).

The tramline here splits into two branches that come together again at San Stefano. The left branch—more direct—passes by Saba Pacha (a nice little cove on the coast), Glymenopoulo, Mazloum, and Zizinia—all popular swimming spots. The right branch, through lovely palm trees, goes through Fleming, Bacos, Seffer, Schutz, and Gianaclis (on the left is the impressive new Mosque of Ahmed Pacha Yehia, the statesman, which includes plans for his tomb).

San Stefano Station.—Near the Casino, a trendy summer hotel, by a sea that looks especially fresh and blue. There are symphony concerts here during the season. However, the audience doesn't come to listen but to chat; their chatter is so loud that from a bit of a distance, the orchestra seems to be performing silently.

The tram goes past St. George, Laurens, and Palais stations to Sidi Bishr, at the edge of a desert coast. It's a nice walk or ride from Sidi Bishr Mosque to the Spouting Rocks. These are truly incredible. Large limestone formations jut out into the sea, where water seeps underneath and shoots up through blowholes and cracks. Some of the openings have been squared off, and the Ancient Alexandrians, who enjoyed scientific gadgets, might have fitted them with musical horns or mechanical mills. —You can continue the trip along the coast to the Montazah woods (Section VII).

Victoria Station The terminus. This is a train station for the Aboukir and Rosetta lines (Section VII), also home to Victoria College, a large building. It provides an education based on the English Public School system to residents in Egypt, regardless of their religion or ethnicity, and was highly regarded by Lord Cromer, who established a scholarship here.

167The coastal walk from Alexandria to Ramleh isn't often taken, but it's beautiful—low, crumbling cliffs, sandy beaches, flat rocks, and remnants of ancient houses and tombs that show just how much the city has sunk over time. There’s no road east of Silsileh. Thankfully, the plan for an extravagant “Corniche” drive didn’t go through, and the scenery has avoided the typical dullness that surrounds most big cities.

Ramleh can also be reached via Aboukir Road, which is an extension of the Rosette Street (Section I).

Path:—Take the Sisters Street and Gabbari, using the Mex Tram (White Star). The trip is rough and dull, but Mex is nice.

170We begin on the south side of the Square, down the long Sisters Street, named after the Roman Catholic Convent and School located near its entrance. The area deteriorates into a rundown state.

Right off Sisters Street:—Rue Behari Bey leads to the mound of Kom-el-Nadoura, which rises sharply from the average streets. Its history before Napoleon arrived (1798 p. 86) is unknown. His engineer Cafarelli built fortifications for him, which successfully held back the British advance in 1801, (p. 88). The entrance is on the south side, through a doorway along a winding path lined with prickly pear and pepper trees. The summit—104 feet above sea level—is now used as a signaling station and observatory under the Ports and Lights Administration. It has an interesting set of instruments and a great view of the harbor and city. In the northwest corner, there are some remains of Cafarelli’s masonry.—Outside the Fort, on Rue Babel-Akhdar (Section II), is the Gold and Silver Bazaar.

Left of Sisters' Street is the Genenah, an intriguing rabbit warren.

The tram goes down Ibrahim Premier Street. To the right, near the docks, on Rue Karam, there's a Franciscan church and school. They’re modern and not particularly interesting, but they’re on a historically significant site. This was the location of the Church of St. Theonas (p. 46) and the early palace of the bishops. St. Athanasius grew up here. The Arabs (641) converted what they found into a beautiful mosque, known as the Mosque of the Seventy (due to a mistaken connection with the Septuagint) or the Mosque of the 1000 Columns. It was modeled after the Mosque of Ibn Touloun in Cairo; Karam Street cuts through its area; its prayer niche faced southwest. It was in a state of ruin when the French arrived and was turned into artillery barracks.

Just before the tram reaches the Canal we pass, to the right, the cotton exchange of Minet-el-Bassal. A visit—introduction necessary—is interesting. The Exchange is around a nice courtyard, with a fountain in the middle. Samples are displayed. The entire neighborhood is dedicated to this main industry of Alexandria; warehouses; charming wooden machinery for cleaning the cotton and pressing it into bales; during the season, the streets are slick with greasy fluff.

The Mahmoudieh Canal (p. 91) is now crossed. The banks still have their original stone facings and double descents, a reminder of Mohammed Ali's commercial ventures. A walk along the left banks is dirty but appealing; it can end at the Kom es Chogafa Catacombs (Section III). To the right, the Canal leads into the Western Harbour.

Then comes the district of Gabbari, named after a sheikh of that name. This was the Western Cemetery of the Ancient City; the discoveries have been moved to the Museum (Room 14). There's nothing interesting until Mex.

Mex, which used to be a fishing village, could have turned into a thriving suburb of Alexandria, similar to Ramleh. However, the surrounding slums have blocked access to it. It’s located at the midpoint of the large curve of the Western Harbour, with the waters of Lake Mariout just behind. There’s a decent pier, with a wooden walkway that extends out to a distant rock. The small beachfront has a bit of a Neapolitan vibe.

Beyond Mex are the limestone quarries that supplied the stone for both ancient and modern towns. They are carved into the ridge that separates the lake from the sea.

The village of Dekhela is down the beach a bit. It's a nice walk from there to Amrieh (Section VIII). Beyond that, the desert starts, scattered with pieces of old pottery.

Beyond Dekhela, at the western tip of the Harbour: Fort Agame. A key location during the Napoleonic era (p. 86) and during the Bombardment of Alexandria (p. 94). Great for swimming. Just off the Fort is Marabout Island, named after the tomb of a local saint 172which is located here, decorated with small boat models offered as prayers. Makrizi (writing in the 14th century) claimed that people lived longer on Marabout Island than anywhere else in the world, but no one lives here now. From here, the chain of reefs extends, enclosing the entrance of the Western Harbour (p. 6).—It’s easy to reach this area from Alexandria by sailing boat, but getting back in the evening can be tricky when the wind dies down.

Route:—By train from the Main (Cairo) station, or from Sidi Gaber, where all trains stop, and which is also a station for the Ramleh tram (Section VI).

Key Points of Interest:—Montazah; Canopus; Aboukir Bay; Rosetta.

175At Sidi Gaber station, you can see Lake Hadra on the right.—Five stops later:—Victoria, near the college and tram stop.—The train goes over sandy areas and through a palm oasis that is covered in flowers during spring.

Mandarah Station.—One of the houses in the village is painted on the outside to honor the inmates' pilgrimage to Mecca—featuring images of things he saw or wished he could have seen, like a train, a tiger, a siren, and a huge melon.

Montazah Station—Close to the station is the Summer Resort of the former Khedive Abbas II, currently (1922) being restored and renovated by King Fouad. If possible, you should get permission to enter, as the scenery is unique in Egypt and incredibly beautiful. The road is lined with roses, oleanders, and pepper trees. A road branches off to the right, leading up the hill to the Selamlik (the men's quarters), built by the Khedive in a style meant to please his Austrian mistress; there’s a sundial and some cannons on the terrace in front. From the terrace, there's a View of the circular bay with its striking promontories and breakwaters; the coast to the right stretches as far as Aboukir, where a minaret can be seen peeking over a distant headland; to the left are the Montazah woods; down steep steps, a curved promenade leads below. There are lovely paths in every direction and great places to swim. On the promontory to the right stands a kiosk, and at its tip are remnants of buildings or baths—fragments of the ancient Taposiris Parva that once existed here; some of these have become natural fishponds. The woods are filled with Maritime Pines, brought over by the Khedive from Europe, and in the western section, beyond the Pigeon House, the trees have grown tall. Various buildings are scattered throughout the estate; in one corner are the foundations of a massive mosque. During the recent war (1914-1919) 176Montazah became a Red Cross Hospital; thousands of recovering soldiers passed through and will always remember the beauty and comfort they found there.

Mamourah Station: The low area to the right is where Aboukir Lake used to be (p. 87), which was drained in the 19th century. This is where the Aboukir and Rosetta railways split.

Route:—Aboukir Station is the end point. Walk or ride a donkey. Turn sharply left towards Canopus, which is 1 mile away, then follow the coastline all the way around past Fort Kait Bey to Fort Ramleh; then head back to Aboukir Village.

Aboukir, while closely linked to Alexandria, has its own unique history. Three main periods.

Ancient (see also p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__).

Geologically, this is the end of the long limestone ridge that sticks out from the Libyan desert (p. 5). The Nile had to curve around it to reach the sea, and it’s the Nile that brought it early recognition. The river flowed out just to the east, through the "Canopic" Mouth, which has now dried up, and there were settlements here centuries before Alexandria was established. On the left bank of the Nile (south of the current Fort Ramleh), Herodotus (B.C. 450) saw a temple dedicated to Heracles and was told that Paris and Helen sought refuge here on their way to Troy—refuge that was denied by the local authorities, who disapproved of their unconventional relationship. There was a second settlement at Menouthis (Fort Ramleh itself), and a third, more famous one at Canopus (now Fort Tewfikieh), which is where the whole area got its name.

Canopus, according to Greek legend, was a pilot of Menelaus who was bitten by a serpent on their way back from Troy. After dying, he became the protective god of the area. This legend, similar to that of Paris and Helen, highlights the Greeks' interest in the region but holds little further significance. There's also a tale that Canopus was an Egyptian god whose body was represented by an earthenware jar; this too may not be credible. Following the founding of Alexandria (B.C. 331), the region lost much of its trade but evolved into a trendy and religious destination. A canal connected Alexandria to the Nile, likely at the point where it met the sea, allowing Alexandrians to glide along in barges, singing and wearing flower crowns. In relation to his new worship of Serapis (p. 18), Ptolemy Soter constructed a temple here (see below) that gained fame worldwide, with rituals that made the Romans feel embarrassed or envious; this is where the idea, still prevalent in the West, that Egypt is a land of sensuality and mystery originated. The area declined once Christianity took hold; unlike Alexandria, it didn't have a strong foundation in trade. However, paganism persisted, and as recently as the late 5th century, twenty camel-loads of idols were discovered hidden in a house, which were then taken to Alexandria for a bonfire. Even in later times, demons caused disturbances.

Christian.

The Patriarch Cyril (p. 51) destroyed the worship of Serapis and Isis in the area (A.D. 389) and sent out the relics of St. Cyr to take their place. The relics were so mixed up with those of another martyr, St. John, that St. John had to be included too, and a church for both saints was built just south of the current Fort Kait Bey. The two saints stayed quiet for 200 years, but then they started to separate and perform miracles, bringing back some of the area's ancient fame; in fact, many of their miraculous healings are similar to those that took place in the temple of Serapis. With the Arab invasion, their church disappeared, but St. Cyr's name lives on in modern Aboukir ("Father Cyr"). In the 9th century, the Canopic branch of the Nile dried up. The Turks built some forts here for coastal defense, but history doesn't pick up again until Nelson arrives.

Modern.

In Napoleonic times, Aboukir experienced two significant battles.

178(a). “Battle of the Nile.”

For the event that led to this engagement see p. 86. Brueys, Napoleon’s admiral, brought his fleet into the bay for safety and anchored them in a long line about two miles from the coast. He had 13 battleships, 4 frigates, 1182 cannons, and 8000 men. To the north was “Nelson’s Island,” as it’s called now, which he had fortified and where his line was supposed to be anchored. His flagship, the Orient, was positioned in the middle of the line. He set up this position on July 7th, 1798.

On August 1st, Nelson arrived in pursuit with 14 warships, 1012 cannons, and 8068 men. The wind was coming from the northwest, which is typical in summer. Half of his fleet, including his flagship the Vanguard, attacked Brueys from the expected direction, the east. The other half, led by the Goliath, executed a brilliant maneuver that secured our victory. This took Brueys by surprise in two ways: first, they passed between the front of his line and "Nelson Island," where he thought there was no room; second, they positioned themselves to his west, between him and the shore, where he believed the water was too shallow. Thus, he was caught in a crossfire—attacked by the entire British fleet except for the Culloden, which stranded while sailing too close to Nelson Island.

The engagement started at 6:00 p.m. At 7:00, Brueys was killed; at 9:30, the Orient caught fire and exploded shortly after. The blast was massive and marked the end of the first act of the battle; a moment of stunned silence followed. Casabianca was aboard the Orient, and it was on her “burning deck” that the boy from Mrs. Hemans’ poem stood. The fighting resumed, lasting throughout the night, and concluded at midday on the 2nd with Nelson's complete victory. The French fleet was destroyed; only two Men-of-War and two Frigates got away, and Napoleon had permanently lost control of the Mediterranean. Nelson then signaled the following message:—

Almighty God has blessed His Majesty’s forces with victory, and the Admiral plans to hold a public thanksgiving for this at two o’clock today. He encourages every ship to do the same as soon as it’s convenient.

The French were anticipating an attack on Alexandria, but Nelson had endured too much to go for it; after resting for a bit, he scattered his fleet, leaving just a few ships to monitor the coast. In his reports back home, he mentioned that the battle occurred near the (Rosetta) mouth of the Nile; this is why it's officially called the “Battle of the Nile” instead of the more precise “Naval Battle of Aboukir.”

Land Battle of Aboukir.

Less significant than its predecessor, but the strategy is intriguing, and Napoleon himself was there. For the events that led up to it see p. 87; Turkey, influenced by England, had declared war on France, and in July 1799, the Turks took control of Aboukir Bay and landed 15,000 troops. Their left flank was at what is now Fort Ramleh, their right at what is now Fort Tewfikieh, and their camp was at the narrow end of the peninsula, between the redoubt and the Fort at the very tip. They were backed on three sides by their fleet, which was positioned in the Mediterranean, in the Bay of Aboukir, and in the (now-gone) Lake of Aboukir. From this stronghold, they intended to conquer Egypt.

Upon hearing the news, Napoleon rushed down from Cairo and arrived (July 25th) with only 10,000 troops, mostly cavalry. Murat and Kléber were with him. He started by clearing the Turkish gunboats out of Lake Aboukir; then his forces attacked Forts Ramleh and Tewfikieh, while his cavalry under Murat, advancing over the flat ground between them, drove the fleeing defenders of each into the Mediterranean and the Bay respectively. 5,400 Turks drowned. The tip of the peninsula remained and fought back fiercely, but Napoleon managed to set up some of his guns on the hard stretch of sand that still extends along the shore of the Bay, allowing him to bombard the Turkish camp, which was ultimately captured in an assault.

Canopus Ruins.

The ruins (see above) are located around Fort Tewfikieh, which can be seen to the left as the train approaches the station. They used to be of interest, but have mostly been destroyed by the military authorities, who take the limestone blocks for road construction and allow treasure hunting to occur. The remains are hard to find, as the area is marked by many excavations. Consult map.

(a) About 50 yards from the fort's gateway, in a dip to the left of the road, are two large Fragments of a granite temple. Here, the busts of Rameses II were found in the Museum (Room 7), along with the colossi of the same King and his daughter (Museum, Court). Date of statues:—B.C. 1300.

(b) Further to the left, around the Fort, is the site of the Temple of Serapis, the most famous building on the peninsula, celebrated throughout the ancient world. It was dedicated by Ptolemy III Euergetes (p. 15) and his wife Berenice. A few years later (B.C. 238) their baby daughter passed away, and the priests gathered here in conclave to make her a goddess, while also endorsing some changes to the Calendar that the King, who had a scientific mind, was advocating. The announcement has been preserved in the “Decree of Canopus,” now one of the key documents for Ptolemaic history. As for miracles, the temple even surpassed the original Temple of Serapis at Alexandria: invalids who slept here, even by proxy, found themselves healed the next day. It was also seen as a place of magic and debauchery by its enemies, and a center of philosophy by its supporters. Christianity targeted it. Just before its destruction (A.D. 289), Antoninus, a skilled pagan reactionary, settled here and attempted to revive the cult. “Often he told his disciples that after his time there would be no temple, 181 and that the great and venerable sanctuary would remain only as an unmeaning mass of ruins, forgotten by all.” (Eunapius, life of Edesius). Antoninus was right.

In ancient times, the Temple likely stood on the highest ground, but now, due to the overall rise in levels, the site is in a deep depression and has to be searched for patiently. An area has been cleared, and some columns and capitals from the excavations have been placed around it, but it's impossible to recreate the original layout, and a lot remains to be uncovered. In fact, it's not entirely certain that this is the correct temple; an inscription has been found dedicating it not to Serapis but to Osiris—though Serapis was often identified with him. The columns are made of granite or stucco-coated limestone. Beneath the broken tin shelter, there was once an attractive mosaic. The most impressive object is a massive fluted column of red granite that lies in a pit nearby; the military authorities haven't found any use for it yet. To the south and east of the Temple were the houses of the priests, which featured nicely cemented passages; these have been destroyed.

The canal that partygoers and worshippers used to get to this shrine flowed south, through the low land by the railway; its path is unclear; it either emptied into the (now gone) Nile or into Aboukir Bay.

(c) The Upper Baths. These are located about 100 yards closer to the sea, on the slope just above the corner of the large bay that extends to Montazah (p. 175). When they were excavated a few years ago, they were almost intact. The swimming pool—lined with the tough pink cement that indicates Ptolemaic or Roman craftsmanship—featured a double step at the top for the bathers. Along its sides, large earthenware pots were inserted, their openings flush with the surface. Only a small part of this unique building remains today. The central brick cistern and the hot baths can still be identified.

(d). The Lower Baths and Broken Colossus.—As we continue around Fort Tewfikieh, we reach the coast and follow it northeast. The foundations of some large baths are partially submerged, revealing entrance channels that were likely blocked by sluices, along with some grooves of unknown purpose. Above on the shore are the hot baths from the same complex, still showing signs of pink cement. In the surf to the left, there are blocks of granite: upon closer inspection, they break down into pieces of a Colossus (Rameses II?) and a sphinx.

(e). Catacombs.—Fifty yards ahead, roughly halfway between the coast and the fort, there are a couple of catacombs, each located in a hollow. One features an underground room, while the other has a sarcophagus slide. There are signs of tombs and tunnels scattered throughout the area and along the low cliff by the shore.

This wraps up our look at Canopus, which was once such a captivating place. Now, only the air and the sea are left of its ancient joys.

Continue following the coast. It’s perfect for swimming. To the right, halfway between the coast and the train station, on some rising ground, are catacombs that have been filled in. Then you reach the end of the promontory, which is impressive. There are two forts: Fort Saba, closing off the neck, where the French resisted when the Turks landed in 1799 (see above); and Fort Kait Bey, at the tip, founded in the 15th century by the Sultan of that name as part of his defense against the Turks (cf. Fort Kait Bey at Alexandria, p. 81). The views are great, with the Mediterranean on one side and the calm semi-circle of Aboukir Bay on the other. From here, or from Fort Ramleh, you can see the scene of the “Battle of the Nile” and understand Nelson’s great maneuver; “Nelson’s Island,” from which the French line relied, and where the Culloden was wrecked, lies straight ahead. (see above.) The promontory used to be called Zephyrium because it caught the cool zephyr winds; here stood a small temple to Aphrodite, and when the great queen Arsinoe died in B.C. 270, one of the court admirals had the clever idea of associating her with the elder goddess so that mariners could give thanks to both. The shrine then became popular, and Queen Berenice hung up her hair here in 244 as a thank-offering for her husband’s safe return; the following year, her hair was taken up to heaven, where it can still be seen on clear nights as the constellation Coma Berenice. The temple was less fortunate, and all that remains of it is the base of a column, down among the rocks. In Christian times, the Church of St. Cyr and St. John (see above) stood here, on the side of Aboukir Bay.

Aboukir Bay.—The shore is still and there are palm trees, the waters are shallow. From a boat, you can look down at the mud where the Orient, Brueys’ flagship, has sunk along with all its treasure; attempts have been made to find her, but they have failed. Good sailing. Turtle fishing. On the jutting spit where Napoleon dragged his cannons (see above) is the landing spot for the fishing boats; many of the fishermen are Sicilian; they have lived at Aboukir for generations and form a community of their own. Here (exact location unknown) once stood Menouthis.

Fort Ramleh.—Crowned by the waterworks. Amazing view. The flat land to the south indicates the Canopic Mouth of the Nile, where Herodotus came into Egypt; here Heracleum stood (see above).

About a quarter mile southwest of Fort Ramleh, near a small modern pumping tower, are the so-called Baths of Cleopatra. She had nothing to do with them, but they're worth a visit. The outer western wall, made of limestone blocks, is well preserved. Steps lead up through it. Inside, there are pebble mosaic pavements, fragments of stucco, a stone with a drain groove, etc. In a chamber to the left, there's an oblong bath nearly six feet deep; steps lead down to it, and in the center of its pebbled floor is a small depression. On the edge of the brim and on the wall opposite are niches, as if to support beams, and you can also see provisions for the entrance and exit of water. Further on, past a small stucco cistern, is an entrance to a small room that contains an oblong bath 184 to lie down in, which looks quite modern and suburban; nearby, under a niche, is a footbath—the bather sat on a seat that has disappeared but whose supports can still be seen. These baths are all in the western part of the enclosure; the rest contains other, larger chambers but is in worse condition. It is greatly hoped that these baths, which have been recently excavated, can be properly protected; otherwise, they will meet the same fate as other antiquities in the military zone.

Aboukir Village, which we return to through palm trees, has nothing of interest.

On leaving Mamourah Junction (p. 176), the railway to Rosetta turns to the right and goes over the marshy ground that once allowed the Canopic branch of the Nile to flow to the sea. You can finally see rural Egypt. After El Tarh station, the train crosses a small part of Lake Edku, with a view of the village on the left.

Edku (no hotel or café) is located on a high mound between the lake and the Mediterranean. The houses lining its steep streets are made of red brick reinforced with palm and other woods; they hint at the more intricate architecture of Rosetta. There are some carved doors in an Italianate style. The mosques are not noteworthy. At the top of the ridge, there are about eight windmills with sails; they grind corn. Lush date palms grow on the sand dunes leading to the sea, as fresh water lies just below the surface. There's an intriguing local weaving industry, mainly producing silk that is imported in its rough form from China. The workrooms are typically on the upper floors of the houses and accessed by an outside staircase. These are quiet, pleasant places; some walls feature Cufic inscriptions inlaid in brick. The weavers sit at their looms in small oval pits; they have skilled hands and create fabrics that are both strong and beautiful on their simple wooden machinery.

Fish are caught in Lake Edku. Some fishermen wade deep into the shallow waters; there is also a fleet 185of boats that dock at the long wooden pier by the station. Occasionally, you'll see flamingoes.

The railway goes on between the lake and the sea, eventually turning north and winding around large groves of palm trees, behind which are the town of Rosetta and the River Nile.

Rosetta and Alexandria are rivals; when one thrives, the other falters. Rosetta, located on the Nile, would have been dominant except for one major issue: it has no sea harbor, and cannot have one, because this part of Egypt is just delta. The limestone ridges that formed the two harbors of Alexandria don’t extend east of Aboukir. Alexandria needed to be organized through human effort, but once it was, it became unstoppable. Rosetta has only been significant in a time lacking scientific advancement. Let's take a moment to look at the rise and fall, revival and decline, of civilization here.

(i). In ancient Egyptian times, the town and river-port of Bolbitiné were built in this area—likely a bit upstream, beyond the current mosque of Abou Mandour. We know very little about the history of Bolbitiné. When Alexandria was founded (B.C. 331), traffic shifted away from the “Bolbitiné” mouth of the Nile to the “Canopic” and the Alexandrian harbors, which led to the town's decline. Its most notable relic is the so-called “Rosetta Stone,” a basalt inscription now housed in the British Museum. The inscription lists the accomplishments of King Ptolemy V Epiphanes (B.C. 196; see genealogical tree p. 12). It's a rather boring document, a copy of the original decree that was set up in Memphis and distributed widely throughout the country. However, it's significant because it's written in three scripts—Hieroglyphic, Demotic, and Greek—and this contributed to deciphering the ancient Egyptian language. The antique columns and other artifacts that can be seen in Rosetta today likely also originated from Bolbitiné. But it was never a major place, and the sands have now buried it.

(ii). Rosetta was founded in A.D. 870 by El Motaouakel, one of the Abbasid Caliphs of Egypt. The date is quite important. By 870, the Canopic mouth of the Nile had dried up, cutting off Alexandria from the Egyptian water system. Shipping shifted back to the Bolbitiné mouth, which became busy again for almost a thousand years. “El Raschid,” as the Arabs called the new settlement, turned into the western port of Egypt, with Damietta serving as the eastern port. It played a significant role during the Crusades; St. Louis of France in 1049 referred to it as “Rexi.” In the 17th and 18th centuries, the city was largely rebuilt into its current form; the mosques, homes, cisterns, and large warehouses for grain that line the riverbank all date from this time, developing an architectural style that suited the area. The main building material is brick made from Nile mud, colored red or black, as there was no limestone available, unlike in Alexandria. These bricks were combined with courses of palm wood, antique columns, and some mashrabiyeh work and faience. The style is more picturesque than grand and is comparable to the brick style of the North German Hansa towns. Examples can be found throughout the Delta and even in Alexandria itself (p. 125), but Rosetta is its headquarters. In architecture and other aspects, the town maintained connections with Cairo, an Oriental city that remains largely unwesternized even today. As long as Alexandria remained inactive, Rosetta thrived; at the start of the 19th century, its population was 35,000, while Alexandria's was only 5,000.

In 1798, Napoleon’s troops captured Rosetta, and in 1801 the British and Turks took it back. In 1807, General Frazer’s reconnoitering mission was turned back here. While these events seemed minor on their own, they set the stage for a significant disaster: the scientific revival of Alexandria by Mohammed Ali. Once he developed the harbors and restored the water connection with the Nile by digging the Mahmoudieh Canal, Rosetta began to decline just as Bolbitiné had done two thousand years earlier. The current population is 14,000 compared to Alexandria’s 400,000, and it has shrunk and weakened due to inbreeding. The warehouses and mosques are crumbling, the expensive homes of the merchants are in ruins, and sand is creeping in from the south and west, encroaching a bit more each year through the palm groves and into the streets. You can roam aimlessly for hours (it's best to wander that way) and see nothing modern, nor anything more thrilling than the arrival of the fishing boats with sardines. It is the East, but an East defeated by science and in the final stages of decline.

The main street of Rosetta begins at the Railway Station and goes straight south, parallel to the river, making it easy to navigate. It hosts the only hotel, run by a Greek; those who aren’t picky can stay here: others will have to explore the sights in between trains. The hotel features a nice garden, with a view of the minaret of a mosque.

187On the main street, to the right;—Mosque of Ali-el-Mehalli, built in 1721 but housing the tomb of the Saint, who passed away in the 16th century. It's a large but rather dull building, featuring an entrance porch in the “Delta” style—bricks laid out in patterns, pendentives, etc.

Further down, to the left, by the covered markets: There's an entrance with old doors leading to a large, ruined building, probably once a "kitchen" or courtyard for travelers and their animals; you can walk through it and come out the other side through a beautiful archway, heading toward the river. This part of town is really picturesque. The buildings are four or five stories tall and have antique columns arranged in a unique way among their brickwork. The best and oldest example of this domestic architecture is the House of Ali-el-Fatairi, located in Haret el-Ghazl, with inscriptions above its doorways that date back to 1620: its external staircase leads to two doors, one for the men's quarters and the other for the women's. Other notable houses include Cheikh Hassan el Khabbaz's house on Rue Dahliz el Molk; Osman Agha's house at some crossroads, featuring carved wood inside, dated 1808; and Ahmed Agha's house in Chareh el Ghabachi to the west of town, which is being taken over by sand.

At the end of the main street is the most important building in town, the Mosque of Zagloul. It actually consists of two mosques: the western one was established around 1600 by Zagloul, the Mamaluke or servant of Said Hassan; the other, more dilapidated part is the mosque of El Diouai. There's a courtyard with a fountain in the center. The whole structure measures about 80 by 100 yards. Everything is made of brick except the two stone minarets; the ruined one was "cut with scissors," according to local belief, but archaeology suggests it fell in the early 19th century. The main sanctuary of the Mosque of Zagloul is an impressive hall; over 300 columns, many of which are ancient, are arranged in six parallel rows. There are four prayer niches, three of them richly decorated, and the tomb of the ex-servant himself, now revered as a saint and honored with votive offerings of 188boats. In the tomb, his former master, Said Hassan, lies with him and shares in the honors. The sanctuary is in ruins and poorly built, but its perspective effects, especially from the south wall near the tomb, are quite striking and rival those of the Mosque of El Azhar in Cairo. Light streams in through openings in the roof.

East of the Mosque of Zagloul and near the river is the Mosque of Mohammed el Abbas, built in 1809. It features high-quality construction but follows the same style. Unlike the other mosques in Rosetta, it has a beautiful dome that covers the tomb of the saint.

Other Mosques:—Toumaksis Mosque, built by Saleh Agha Toumaksis in 1694; it is accessed by steps. There’s nice ironwork around the keyholes, a good pulpit inside, tiles, and the prayer niche still has its original geometric design of hexagons and “Solomon’s seals.” —Mosque of Cheikh Toka, located at the corner of the Chareh Souk el Samak el Kadim; the entrance is in “Delta” style with a rosette above its arches; inside, there’s a pulpit dated 1727.

About a mile south of town, easiest accessed by boat, is the Mosque of Abou Mandour, a flashy modern structure, beautifully situated on the curve of the riverbank, and backed by massive sand dunes that seem ready to engulf it, just like they did with Bolbitiné.

North of the town, halfway between it and the sea, is where Fort St. Julien used to be, built by Napoleon’s soldiers, and where they found the Rosetta Stone. The Fort is no longer there; there's a sketch of it in the Alexandria Museum (Vestibule).

Sailing on the Nile: amazing.

Routes:—Take the Mariout Railway to Bahig for Abousir and St. Menas; each trip takes a day.

By train through Tel-el-Baroud and Khatatbeh to the Wady Natrun; 2 or 3 days.

190Alexandria, despite being so diverse, is on the edge of civilization. To the west, there’s a vast limestone desert that extends deep into Africa. Most of the city’s residents are unaware of this desert's existence, but it has had a significant impact on her history, especially during Christian times, and anyone looking to understand her story cannot overlook it.

The Mariout Railway used to belong to the former Khedive. The line starts at the central station and branches off from the main line at Hadra. After passing Nouzha station (Section IV), it crosses the Mahmoudieh Canal (p. 91) and then turns west along the edge of Lake Mariout. Just before Gabbari Garden station, there's a fishing village situated on a small creek that looks quite Japanese. It's worth visiting here after a good catch: the fish from the lake are bizarre creatures. The area is very fertile—full of palm trees, bananas, and vegetable gardens. However, it’s not a pleasant place for a walk because of the odors.

Mex Station. (Section VI). The train crosses the western or Mellaha arm of Mariout. To the right are the salt pans that turn dull purple and red in the summer; beyond them is the white spur of limestone that separates the lake from the sea.

Abd el Kader Station. Now we’re getting close to the Libyan desert. The landscape and the people shift. From the hill to the right, near the tomb, there’s a great view and amazing colors in the evening.

Amrieh Station. This large village used to be the hub of the Eastern district of the Western Desert Province, but the Administration is moving it to Burg el Arab. Bedouins come to the train, taller and leaner than the Egyptians, and more graceful; they wear rough white robes and soft dark red caps. —There 191 is a great walk from Amrieh to Mex—the best day hike near Alexandria. The path goes north from the station, past the community gardens, then heads toward a ridge where limestone is quarried. The view from the top looks over the western arm of Mariout. Take the causeway that crosses the lake, and on the other side, turn right, finally crossing the coastal ridge to Dekhela (Section VI) and then to Mex along the shoreline.

Ikingi Mariout Station. (Ikingi means "second" in Turkish.)—A great spot for the wildflowers in February and March. Head north towards the lake and stick to the lower ground; the local plant life is among the best in the world.

Bahig Station.—Hub for two great expeditions—Abousir by the coast, and St. Menas in the interior.

The ruins of Abousir are located 5½ miles northwest of Bahig station. You can find them without a guide. (see map). There’s a good road leading to Bahig village (¾ mile). Just above the village, there’s a large quarry that was used in ancient times and is very picturesque. A path crosses the ridge slightly to the left of this quarry, and from there, the ruins are visible all the way. You’ll need to cross the end of Mariout, so it's best not to make this trip in winter because of the mud. The last half hour of the journey is spectacular. The Temple and the Tower stand out on the hill, which is bright with marigolds in spring. Near the top of the climb, the sea comes into view through a gap, deep blue and crashing against a beach of white sand. The flowers can be stunning, coloring the earth in every direction. The Bedouins believe the ruins are the palace of Abou Zeit; they actually mark the Ptolemaic city of Taposiris, whose name lives on in modern Abousir.

Taposiris was likely built shortly after Alexandria (around 300 B.C.), and it's helpful to compare the two towns. They sit on the same ridge—Taposiris at its base, where it has come out of the desert. The lake is to the south, and the sea is to the north, which allowed each town to have two harbors, benefiting their trade. Both towns had a lighthouse and worshipped Osiris. Not much is known about the history of Taposiris—called “Great” to distinguish it from “Little” Taposiris at Montazah (p. 175). Its primary trade was with the lake, and its sea harbor was ½ mile down, at the now-lost port of Plinthinus. The Arabs turned the Temple of Osiris into a fortress, and in modern times, coast guards have been stationed here.

The main points are:—

(i). Temple of Osiris. The main entrance on the east side is next to the coast guard station. At first glance, it just looks like a hole in a crumbling wall, but it can be easily imagined as it once was. On either side of the entrance were gate towers (pylons) similar to those found in Edfu or Kom Ombo in Upper Egypt. The bases of these towers extend outward from the main wall, and each has two grooves for flagpoles, from which crimson banners would have flown. Staircases accessible from the inside lead up to each tower, and there are also two square rooms at the base of each.

The enclosed area—approximately 100 yards by 100 yards—is in a terrible state. The actual temple is gone. There must have been a colonnaded courtyard with an altar in the center, and beyond that, the temple's facade: to the north and south of the temple, there would have been additional courtyards. The layout was Egyptian, but some of the workers were Greek; mason marks with Greek letters (e.g., Alpha Kappa Rho) have been discovered on the stone in the boundary wall.

The north boundary wall of the enclosure is impressive; it extends over the hillside and is supported by substructures. There's a gate leading down to the sea. Take note of the projections in the masonry. In the northwest corner, some architectural fragments are stacked up by the Arabs. 194(ii). Lighthouse. The ruined tower on the hill east of the temple was once thought to be a tomb since it sits in the ancient cemetery. In reality, it's the Ptolemaic lighthouse of Taposiris, the first in a series that stretched from the Pharos at Alexandria all the way down the North African coast to Cyrene. Like the Pharos, it has three tiers: a square base, an octagonal middle section, and a cylindrical top. On the north side, where the outer wall of the octagon has collapsed, you can see the marks of the staircase used to transport wood to the top—a simpler version of the double spiral found in the massive Alexandrian structure. There's no doubt that the Taposiris lighthouse was modeled after its gigantic counterpart—approximately ⅒th the scale—making it very important for archaeologists and historians. (see throughout p. 133).

There are graves near the lighthouse, and graves and homes all along the slope to the south of the temple.

(iii). Causeway. South of the town, in the lake's bed, you can see remnants of the embankment that connected to the desert. It likely had arches like the Heptastadion in Alexandria, allowing boats to pass through.

The other notable spot in the area is Burg el Arab (now called Bahig). It’s located just a few miles west of Bahig village (see above) and can be easily found by the tower of the new carpet factory. This location is set to become the capital of the Eastern District within the Western Desert Province Frontier Districts Administration; it’s being designed and built with great style, largely thanks to the talent of Officer Commanding, W. E. Jennings Bramly, M.C. The factory features a large cloister and two halls on either side of the main tower. Pieces of ancient sculpture and architecture have been skillfully incorporated. The carpets are made from camel and goat hair by Bedouin and Senussi women—the industry began in Amrieh during the last war. You can find examples in the shops in Alexandria. Further to the west, other structures are under construction, including a small walled town. It’s all quite fascinating and one of the few examples of modern creative work in this region.

Seven and a half miles south of Bahig Station, in the solitude of the desert, you can find the ruins of a once-great Christian city. They can be visited between train trips on a good horse, but camping out is a better option. The path goes over gently rolling limestone plains. The scenery becomes less captivating, and the plants become sparser, as you move away from the coast. Finally, the monotony is interrupted by the square hut where the excavators used to live. The ancient name of the place lives on in the modern name—Abumna.

Menas, a young Egyptian officer, was killed during his service in Asia Minor because he wouldn’t give up Christ (A.D. 296). When the army returned to Egypt, his friends brought his ashes with them, and at the entrance of the Libyan Desert, a miracle happened: the camel that was carrying the ashes refused to go any further. The saint was buried and forgotten. But a shepherd noticed that a sick lamb that crossed the spot became healthy. He tried it successfully with another lamb. Then a sick princess was healed. The remains were dug up, and a church was built over the grave.

This church can still be found. It is the Basilica of the Crypt (Plan I p. 196), dated 350, to which an enormous expansion was added by Emperor Arcadius at the end of the century. What caused such rapid growth? Water. There were springs in the limestone that have since dried up, which must have had healing properties. Baths were built, some of which opened into a church (Plan II). Small flasks, marked with the Saint’s image, were filled from the sacred source by his tomb. The surrounding area was irrigated, with houses, walls, and cemeteries built, creating a sacred city where religion intertwined with hygiene in the clean air. The saint didn’t just protect the sick; he was also the patron of the caravans traveling from Alexandria to the Wady Natrun, the Siwan Oasis, and Tripoli, and he is often depicted between two camels, who bow in reverence because he guides them correctly. By the 6th century, he had become the god of the Libyan Desert, which was less desolate than now, and his reputation, like that of his predecessor Serapis, had spread all around the Mediterranean, gaining him worshippers as far away as Rome and France.

196Islam put a stop to the cult. However, as late as the year 1,000, an Arab traveler saw the massive double basilica still standing. Lights burned in the shrine day and night, and there was still a small stream of "the beautiful water of St. Menas that relieves pain."

The site, completely overlooked, was found in 1905. It has been meticulously excavated. Only the floor plans of the buildings are left, but they are quite fascinating, and the marble decorations are lovely.

198The Sanctuary Group. This is located just south of the excavators’ huts. Its total length is about 400 ft. In the center is the original church that covers the tomb. To the east is the impressive addition of Arcadius; to the west is a baptistery. On the north side, there’s a monastery. The best view of the group is from a mound outside the baptistery. The overall layout is quite clear. (Plan I, p. 196). Taken in detail:—

(i). Church of Arcadius.—Length almost 200 feet. A cross-shaped basilica with a central nave and two side aisles, and aisled transepts. Above the intersection was a dome, beneath which, now largely damaged from its collapse, is the High Altar. Behind the altar are curved steps that supported the church's throne. Both the altar and throne are in a square enclosure where the priests and singers stood; a narrow passage connects it with the nave. The eastern apse has been used for burials.

The Nave is paved with white marble from the Greek islands. Green and purple marbles (verde antico and porphyry) were also used. From the south aisle, three doors lead into a nice atrium, which was the main entrance to the church. The north aisle opens—at its east end—onto a staircase that goes up to the church roof; the other doors lead to the monks’ living quarters and hospice (see below). The west end of the nave is uneven because the apse of the original church protrudes.

(ii). Primitive Church. A small, three-aisled basilica that isn't well preserved, but has an interesting crypt. You can access it by a marble staircase that starts in the Arcadian church, goes past a portico with a vaulted brick roof, and then bends south into a long underground chamber. Here, surrounded by rich decorations, lie the ashes of the young saint, in a tomb that was likely visible from the church above. A 199bas-relief of him was attached to the south wall; you can still see where the marble slab was. The unattractive bas-relief in the Alexandria Museum (Room I) is a copy. Connected to the crypt is a chapel that was once covered with gold mosaic; the well in it was created by treasure-hunters.

On the west side of the church flows the sacred water channel that gave the sanctuary its reputation. It's an underground cistern, over 80 yards long; a shaft was dug into it from the main hall. Since it ran so close to the saint’s remains, it held special significance. The water was used to fill flasks and was also used in the nearby Baptistery.

(iii). The Baptistery is square on the outside and octagonal on the inside. In the center, down some steps, is the main font, which has an overflow channel; we don’t know how it was filled. The floor was beautifully inlaid with serpentine, porphyry, and other types of marble. There was a dome. On the south side, there is an atrium. On the western exterior, there are niches for statues.

A baptistery like this—separate from the main church—is quite common in the West. However, in the East, it is one of a kind. It only appears at St. Menas, where water played such a significant role in the worship.

Immediately north of the Sanctuary Group are the Monastery Buildings and Hospice, a confusing maze. The highlight is a hall with a marble floor and one held up by eight columns. It is located 40 yards due north from the gate of the Primitive Church. These buildings, along with the Sanctuary Group they served, cover an area of over 40,000 square yards.

The Sacred Baths (Plan II). About 80 yards from the Monastery Buildings. It's best found by the nice circular cistern made of well-cut limestone blocks. The main building has a heating system and three baths. There’s also a small but beautifully finished church; basilica style; with apses at each end and three aisles. Two baths open directly from its south aisles, and in its nave are two marble fountains that were probably supplied by the source in the central sanctuary (see above). The layout is noteworthy. The line between hygiene and the miraculous is never clearly defined; both the heating system and the church have their roles to play. The construction dates to around the 5th century. Another group is located beyond.

Northern Cemetery.—This is the most significant cemetery in the city and is located some distance from the areas described above. In fact, a visitor coming from Bahig will pass it on their left while heading to the hut. There’s a great view of it from a nearby mound. The main structure is a church (150 ft. long) with three aisles, a square apse, and several mortuary chapels where more notable individuals were buried. Others are buried outside. Date range—7th-9th century.

This definitely doesn't list all the ruins of St. Menas. There's a Southern Cemetery, private homes, wine presses, and a kiln where they made the terracotta flasks. The entire surrounding desert shows signs of the unusual cult, which in some ways anticipated the methods used at Lourdes.

Half a day traveling south across the desert brings a rider to Wady Natrun.

The Wady is best visited by arranging a trip with the Egyptian Salt and Soda Company, which has the concession for developing the area where the Lakes and Monasteries are located. The Company’s private railway begins at Khatatbeh, on the branch line between Cairo and Tel-el-Baroud (see Map. p. 174). The train winds through the desert to Bir Victoria, where it stops beneath a solitary tree for water. Then, it leaves civilization behind, and for three hours, you’ll see nothing but the occasional gazelle. After that time, the landscape drops away to the left, revealing the monastery of St. Macarius in the distance. You can also see the chain of lakes, and sometimes you can spot the monasteries of St. Pschoi and The Syrians across them in the mirage. The train then descends to the terminus of Bir Hooker, right by the Company’s factory and rest house.

The Wady Natrun (i.e., Natron, Soda) is an interesting valley that starts near Cairo and extends northwest into the heart of the Libyan Desert. It may have once been a tributary of the Nile, although it's now blocked from the sea by coastal hills. Both its upper and lower areas are desolate, but in the central part—where the railway runs—water exists in the form of a series of mineral lakes.

The deposits had been mined since ancient times, but with the rise of monasticism, the Wady gained new significance due to its harsh conditions. As early as A.D. 150, St. Fronto isolated himself here from Alexandria. St. Ammon followed in 270, and St. Macarius, also known as Mercury, arrived a hundred years later. More moderate ascetics gathered soda with the help of laypeople, while the more extreme ones sought a dry area known as Scetis—likely the southern part of the valley where the monastery dedicated to St. Macarius still exists. Soon, there were 5,000 monks. It's understandable that such an isolated community would disconnect from the theological subtleties of the capital, and in 399, Patriarch Theophilus had to reprimand the monks for downplaying the divine aspect of the Second Person. Their response was shocking; they crossed the desert, invaded Alexandria, and forced the Patriarch to apologize. A few years later, he led an army to the Wady to punish them, but by that time, strangely, they had flipped to the opposite mistake; they minimized the human aspect. The truth is they represented native Egypt, while the Patriarch came from the Hellenized coast. (see p. 51). The dispute was more about ethnicity than theology, and when it escalated in the 6th century, the Wady naturally became a stronghold for the national or Monophysite faction, who still worship there today as Copts.

With the 19th century came a new colony—the industrial one. The factory chimney of the Salt and Soda Company now dominates the scene. The lakes are dredged for their deposits. The main product is caustic soda, which is poured red hot into metal drums and exported all over the East. Ordinary soda (natron) is also produced. The factory is interesting. It and the surrounding settlement exist in their current form thanks to Mr. A. H. Hooker, after whom the settlement is named.

More than eighty different types of birds have been identified in the marshes around Bir Hooker.

The Mineral Lakes.

These are situated between the factory and the monasteries. Some are dirty, while others are incredibly beautiful, especially in the summer. The deposits settle at the bottom. As they rise to the surface, the lake appears to be covered with white and red ice, with pools of blue and green water interspersed, along with flowing streams of wine-colored liquid, and areas that blush like a rose. When the scene is shimmering, its oddity is hard to believe. A bird looks as large as a person, and the chunk of salt it sits on resembles a snow-covered boat. The best of these lakes is just to the left of Bir Hooker.

204The Monasteries.

Four of these remain, and there are the ruins of many others. They are all of the same kind, so to avoid repeating myself, here’s a summary:

Exterior:—a stone enclosure set in the middle of the desert, covering about an acre. Palm trees and buildings rise above its walls. The walls are plain except for one tall arch, which marks the location of a small door, the only entrance. The monks in black robes, when the bell rings, look down from the parapet, then unlock the door and take the traveler to the Guest House for coffee and lemonade. They may be unkempt and uneducated, but they are very polite and welcoming. They refuse any form of payment.

In the enclosure:—two or three churches, typically made up of a nave, choir, and sanctuary (kaikal). Refectory. Sleeping quarters for the monks. Mill for grinding corn. Oven, where they bake the hard brown bread, as well as the “isbodikon” (somatikon, sacrament), a cake of fine flour beautifully stamped with a cross and used for the Eucharist. Olive press. Granary. Garden of palm trees, bananas, capsicums, etc. Keep (kasr) for final retreat during an attack; accessed only by a drawbridge from the wall parapet; contains a library, dungeons, chapels; usually dedicated to St. Michael.

Date: the overall look and layout are from the 6th century. Most of the details are from a later time.

205Extract from the Thanksgiving offered at the arrival of a distinguished visitor:—

Whoever visits these homes with strong faith, sincere desire, genuine repentance, and good deeds will have all their sins forgiven. So, dear fathers and beloved brothers, let’s come together to pray for our dear and honorable brothers who have come to visit and have arrived at these places. Let’s pray that Jesus Christ, who has been with his servants at all times and in all places, may now be with them and free them from all sins and wrongdoings. May He grant them the greatest gifts and full rewards, compensating them for all they have endured through hard work, danger, and the fatigue of their journey here; giving them an abundance of blessings; bringing them back home safely; and, after a long life, transporting them to the brightness of Paradise and the life of bliss, through the intercession of Our Lady the Virgin and all our holy fathers. Amen.^[7]

The Four Monasteries.

(A). Convent of St. Pschoi (Deir Abou Bishoi). About an hour’s ride from Bir Hooker. Dedicated to St. Pschoi or Besa. “B” is the Coptic article, so the saint’s name is ultimately “Isa” i.e. Isaiah. Little is known about him.

The convent area includes:

(i). The Church of St. Pschoi (Plan I, p. 202). 6th-11th centuries with later additions. A large entrance porch leads to the dim but striking interior. There are three sections: Nave, Choir, and Sanctuary.

The Nave has an arched ceiling; sturdy piers with pointed arches separate it from the aisles. Inside, there’s an Ambon (a lectern for reading the Gospel) and a small marble basin level with the floor, where the priest washes the feet of the congregants on Maundy Thursday to commemorate Christ's actions. Many of the Nave's arches have been filled in to reinforce the structure. High and narrow folding doors—similar to a Japanese screen—close off the tall arch that connects the Nave to the Choir; these doors feature beautifully carved panels bordered in ivory. Other doors provide access from the aisles.

206The Choir also has a vaulted ceiling, but it's oriented at a right angle to that of the Nave. On either side of the Choir are chapels, likely added later. To the left is the Chapel of the Virgin, which has a chest holding the relics of St. Pschoi, claimed by the monks to be intact. To the right is the Chapel of St. Ischyrion, and adjacent to it is the Baptistery. The entrance to the Sanctuary features ancient carved doors, topped by a triumphal arch.

The Sanctuary has a beautiful platform behind the altar consisting of six steps—three straight and three curved. In the center was the Abbot's throne. It’s gone now, and the marble decorations on the steps are damaged. Above the throne, there is a marble mosaic. In the middle of the eastern dome, there is a Cross.

(ii). The Refectory.—This serious room has a huge stone table, narrow and low, where the monks break their yearly fast. They don’t usually eat here and use the table to dry onions, bread, and other items, while cakes of salt are piled against the wall. The Abbot’s seat is at the head of the table. The place is rugged and incredibly messy. But you could hardly find a more notable remnant of early Christianity.

(B). Convent of the Syrians (Deir es Suriani).—Close to the Convent of St. Pschoi. Founded by monks from Syria. Dedicated to the Virgin. Here Robert Curzon (1833) discovered priceless Syrian, Coptic, and Abyssinian manuscripts in the oil cellar, which are now in the British Museum. He describes his discovery in “Monasteries of the Levant”: it was made easier by offering the Abbot liqueurs. More were taken later by Archdeacon Tattam, and now nothing valuable remains.

The enclosure includes:—

(i). Church of the Virgin (Plan II, p. 203)—A great building measuring 40 ft. by 90 ft., likely the inspiration for the church in S^t. Pschoi—i.e. dating back to the 6th century.

The Nave has piers with tall pointed arches and high vaulting that are slightly pointed. In the center, there's a basin for washing the Maundy feet, made of marble with a circular depression. In the western semi-dome, there's a beautiful fresco of the Ascension. Precious folding doors separate the nave and choir, inlaid with ivory panels featuring Christ in the nimbus of the Cross, the Virgin, St. Peter, and St. Mark; around their posts and lintels, there's a Syriac inscription that dates back to the 7th century.

The Choir—North semi-dome; fresco of the Death of the Virgin. South semi-dome; fresco of the Annunciation and Nativity. Remarkable work. Older doors between the Choir and the Sanctuary; ivory panel depicting Dioscurus (Patriarch of Alexandria 450 and founder of Monophysism see p. 51), Mark, Emmanuel, the Virgin, Ignatius, and Severus (512). Syriac inscriptions from a later period—8th century.

Sanctuary. Skillful and effective plaster frieze with a border below and panels of traditional trees and vines above. Above the eastern niche, there’s a panel of crosses. This unique decoration deserves careful study.

(ii). Smaller Church of the Virgin. Above the entrance on the southwest side, there’s a marble cross in low relief. Inside, there’s another cross made of black marble. They are likely dedication crosses. There’s a pulpit in the choir.

(iii). Tamarind tree under the enclosing wall. St. Ephraim the Syrian (date 373) accidentally, as they say, laid his staff down, and it took root immediately. However, it's unlikely that St. Ephraim ever traveled to Egypt.

(C). Convent of St. Baramus (Deir el Baramus). About a two-hour ride from Bir Hooker. Dedicated to an unknown saint (Romaios?).

Included are:—

(i). Church of the Virgin. The pillars of the main area are made from ancient marble columns. There are ten dedication crosses, marking spots anointed with holy oil at the church's consecration—six in the main area and four in the choir. The sanctuary screen features beautiful carvings. In the reliquary rest the brothers S.S. Maximus and Domitius, from whose mouths, during prayer, fiery ropes rose to Heaven. Attached to this church are 208two smaller churches—St. George (Mari Girgis), which is now used as a granary and has an ornate dome—and St. Theodore (Al Amir Tadrus).

(ii). Church of Baramus, damaged by repairs.

(iii). The Refectory—similar to the one at St. Pschoi. Date 5th or 6th century. At this entrance is a large stone bookrest.

(iv). Keep, with chapel dedicated to St. Michael.

(D). Convent of St. Macarius (Deir Abou Makar).

This monastery is the hardest to get to of the four, located ten miles from Bir Hooker.

St. Macarius, also known as Mercury, the founder, was from Alexandria. Another saint had a vision of him killing the apostate Emperor Julian (d. 363). He is also remembered for refusing to eat a bunch of grapes and for killing a mosquito. Overcome with guilt after killing it, he went nude to the nearby marshes, and after six months, his body was so swollen from stings that his fellow monks could only recognize him by his voice. He chose this location for his monastery because of the poor communications and water supply. It was repaired in 880. Nothing is known about its later history.

The monastery layout follows the typical design. It includes:—

(i). Church of Macarius. It has a Byzantine style; there are three sanctuaries, a choir, and an uneven western end. The central sanctuary is topped with a beautiful brick dome, which was once decorated with frescoes and still shows remnants of its old windows, featuring stucco dividers and small panels of colored glass. There were also frescoes in the eastern niche and paintings on the entrance arch. The sanctuary doors are beautifully carved.

Left of Sanctuary: Chapel of St. John, with a double screen. The outer screen is adorned with beautifully carved panels—likely from the 8th century. The frame is from a later time. The plaster of the dome has fallen; it was once painted. St. Macarius is housed in the Reliquary.

209(ii). Church of the Elders (Al Shiulah), distinguished by a separate bell tower. It's a small building with a similar layout. One of its columns features a late classical capital.

(iii). Church of St. Ischyrion (Abou Iskharun)—one of the martyrs that Alexandria used to produce so abundantly. A magnificent low dome almost covers both the choir and the nave. It’s made of bricks that must have been transported on camels from the Delta.

(iv). The Keep (Kasr), accessible by a flight of steps and a drawbridge. On its first floor are three chapels dedicated to:—

St. Michael—Corinthian and Doric capitals in the nave; the Sanctuary Screen has ivory inlay; in the Sanctuary are the remains of sixteen patriarchs, each in a simple wooden box: St. Anthony—three ancient frescoed figures: and St. Suah, with more frescoes. On the ground floor, there’s a chapel dedicated to the Virgin, featuring a triple altar with indentations of unknown purpose.

The religious life in Alexandria isn't as vibrant today as it was during St. Athanasius's time, but it's even more complex now. The city hosts four patriarchates and has many other religious groups. This complexity is partly due to the efforts of Roman Catholicism, which has created a counter church for various groups to draw Eastern Orthodox believers back into the fold, closely resembling their familiar conditions and rituals—like an Armenian Catholic Church for Armenians and a Coptic Catholic Church for Copts. Additionally, the modern commercial communities contribute to this complexity by viewing religion more as a reflection of nationality than as a matter of belief.

The following list of Churches might show just how extensive the topic is:—

Greek Patriarchate: “Orthodox Greek,” or “Melchite” church (from Melek, which means King in Arabic). The current Patriarch is Photius I. His position is interesting. He is not a subject of the Kingdom of Greece nor the Patriarch of Constantinople; instead, he gets his authority directly from the Sultan of Turkey. Therefore, he is ecclesiastically independent. His title is “Patriarch of Alexandria, Lybia, Pentapolis, Ethiopia, and all Egypt,” but his authority only extends within Egypt, which he oversees through four bishops. Historically, he represents the church that remained loyal to Byzantium and the Emperor during the Council of Chalcedon (A.D. 451), when the rest of Egypt began to separate over the Monophysite issue. After the Arab Conquest, the Greek Patriarch lived in Cairo, but returned to Alexandria about sixty years ago to the Convent and Church of St. Saba. (p. 106). Regarding doctrine, the Greek Orthodox mainly differs from Roman Catholics and Protestants over the “Filioque” clause in the Nicene creed. They believe that the Holy Ghost proceeds not from the Father and the Son, but through the Son. This disagreement is what caused the split between East and West, which was not resolved in 1459.

Greek Community Churches: These churches are also Greek Orthodox in faith, but they do not recognize the Patriarch. In fact, their interactions with him during the recent war were quite active. They are affiliated with a group of businesspeople who only owe allegiance to the Kingdom of Greece. They manage their own affairs and select their own priests. However, the Patriarch has the authority to review those priests' credentials and grant them permission to officiate. The Community has a Cathedral (The Annunciation) located near Place St. Catherine (p. 142); they also have three churches in Ramleh—St. Stefano, St. Nicolas, and the Prophet Elias.

Greek Orthodox Church in Syria: The Church for members of the Syrian Community who practice the Greek Orthodox faith. It's independent of the Patriarch and operates under an archimandrite. Services are conducted in Arabic. The church is called “Dormition de la Sainte Vierge” and is located on Rue el Kaid Gohar.

This wraps up the Greek Orthodox Churches.

Coptic Orthodox Church: The Copts are Monophysites—i.e. they believe that after the Incarnation, the Divine and the Human in Christ were united into a single nature. (p. 76). This sets them apart from the rest of Christianity. Historically, the Patriarchate opposes the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate, from which it split at the Council of Chalcedon, and it claims to represent Egyptian Christianity. In 960, the Patriarch began residing in Cairo, and this custom has continued, although the title “Patriarch of Alexandria” has been kept: Besides his authority in Egypt, the Patriarch also consecrates the Metropolitan of Abyssinia. Alexandria has a resident archbishop. Cathedral—in the Coptic Church Street. (p. 160).

Armenian Church: Founded by St. Gregory the Illuminator in the 4th Century, it is similar to the Coptic Church and follows Monophysitism. Its leader is called a “Catholicos” and is based in Etchmiadzin, Armenia. The Alexandrian community has a church named SS. Peter and Paul, Rue Abou el Dardaa. (p. 143).

We now come to the group of churches that are in union with Rome. The beliefs are the same, but the practices vary.

Latin Patriarchate: Established after the Crusades in the 13th century. The Patriarch lives in Rome and governs through an Apostolic Vicar based in Alexandria. Main Church—Cathedral of St. Catherine (Place St. Catherine). (p. 142).

Coptic Church: Established in 1895, titled “Patriarchate of Alexandria and all the Preaching of St. Mark.” The Patriarch lives in Alexandria and governs Egypt through the suffragan bishops of Hermopolis Magna and Thebes. Cathedral—Indigenous Hospital Street. (p. 154).

Greek Catholic Church: Under the Patriarch of Antioch, who currently resides in Damascus and oversees Alexandria through a 213 Vicar General. Church: St. Peter, Rue Debbane. (p 160.). The priests usually conduct services in Arabic, though the official church language is Greek.

Maronite Church: Established in the 5th century by St. Maro, it once followed the Monothelite heresy. This was a milder version of the Monophysite belief, which claimed that while Christ had two natures, He possessed only one will. (p. 77). The Catholic perspective holds that Christ had both a human and a divine will, which operated together. In the 18th century, the Maronite Community accepted this view and is now in communion with Rome. The Patriarch is based in Antioch. The ecclesiastical language is Syrian. The church is located in Alexandria on the Maronite Church Street. (p. 140).

Armenian Catholic Church: Created in the 18th century under the Patriarchate of Cilicia. There is a Bishop of Alexandria, but he resides in Cairo. Church—Averoff Street. (p. 160).

Chaldean Catholic Church: Established under the Patriarchate of Babylon in 1843 to combat the Nestorian heresy. The Chaldeans in Alexandria, numbering around 100, are reportedly searching for a piece of land to construct a church.

This wraps up the Catholic group. As for the Protestants:

United Presbyterian Church in Egypt: Most, but not all, local Protestants are part of this church. It is affiliated with the American Mission, which primarily focuses on converting Copts. Church—Tewfik I Street.

Church of England: Alexandria is part of the diocese of Egypt and Sudan. The official church for the British community is St. Mark's in the Square, which was built on land donated to the community by Mohammed Ali. (p. 102). There is another Anglican church in Ramleh (All Saints) that was built by local residents. After some disagreements, its administration has been handed over to the Bishop of London. (p. 166).

Church of Scotland: St. Andrew’s, in the French Gardens.

The death of Cleopatra, as described by Plutarch, captured the imagination of future generations and was dramatized by Shakespeare and Dryden.

(i). Plutarch. (in North’s Translation that Shakespeare used).

Her death was very sudden. The people Caesar sent to her rushed over as quickly as they could and found the soldiers standing at the gate, thinking nothing was wrong and unaware of her death. But when they opened the doors, they discovered Cleopatra completely dead, lying on a bed of gold, dressed in her royal robes. One of her two attendants, named Iras, was dead at her feet, while the other, Charmian, was half-dead and trembling, adjusting the diadem Cleopatra had worn on her head. One of the soldiers, seeing her, angrily said, “Is that appropriate, Charmian?” She replied, “Absolutely, and fitting for a princess descended from so many royal kings.” She said no more and collapsed dead right next to the bed.

(ii). Shakespeare. (Antony and Cleopatra, Act V, Scene 2)

(iii). Dryden. (All for Love, Act V Scene I).

(i). From the Gospel of the Egyptians.

The Lord said to Salome, who asked how long death would last, “As long as women have children. I’ve come to reverse the work of women.” And Salome replied, “Then I’ve done well by not having children.” The Lord responded, “Eat every plant, but don’t eat anything bitter.” When Salome asked when the matters he spoke about (i.e., the Last Judgment) would be revealed, the Lord said, “Whenever you shed your shame, when the two become one, and the male with the female, with no distinction between male and female.”

(ii). From the Gospel of the Hebrews.

Jesus says:—“Let the one who seeks not stop until they find, and when they find, they will be amazed; amazed, they will enter the Kingdom, and having entered the Kingdom, they will find rest.”

From unreliable sources (about 200 A.D.)

Jesus said, “Unless you fast from the world, you will not find the Kingdom of God; and unless you keep the Sabbath holy, you will not see the Father.”

Jesus said: “Wherever there are two, they are not without God, and whenever there is one alone, I say, I am with him. Lift the stone, and you will find me; split the wood, and I am there.”

Here is the text as originally approved by the Council, including the paragraph against the Arians; additions to the original texts are in brackets.

We believe in one God, the Almighty Father, creator of all things, both seen and unseen.

And in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who was begotten by the Father (the only begotten, meaning of the same essence as the Father), God from God and Light from Light, truly God from true God, begotten, not created, of one substance with the Father, through whom all things were made (both in Heaven and on Earth); who for us humans and for our salvation came down, became flesh, became human, suffered, and rose again on the third day, ascended into heaven, and will come again to judge the living and the dead;

And in the Holy Spirit;