A Visual Index of

Journey to the Orient
by Gérard de Nerval

A Lady of Cairo page 5

Throughout the length and breadth of the Levant, there is no town where women are more utterly and completely veiled than at Cairo. At Constantinople, at Smyrna, through a veil of white or black gauze, it is occasionally possible to catch a glimpse of the face of some Muslim beauty. No matter how severe the laws may be, they seldom succeed in rendering that delicate tissue any more opaque. The veiled beauties are like graceful and coquettish nuns who, though they have consecrated themselves to the service of a single spouse, yet do not think it amiss to spare an occasional thought for the world. Egypt, serious and devout, is still the land of enigmas and mysteries.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Cairo Café page 7

Little by little, every place is shut up: only the cafés still show a light, where the smokers, seated on palm baskets, in the dim light given by tiny wicks floating upon oil, listen to some long story droned out in a nasal voice.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Wedding Procession page 8

The procession advanced very slowly to the melancholy strains of instruments which imitated the obstinate sound of a creaking door, or a chariot trying out a new set of wheels. Those who were responsible for this racket numbered about twenty, and marched along surrounded by men with torches. Then came the children weighed down by huge candelabra, whose candles shed their bright light in all directions. . . . Farther on, young men carried flags and poles surmounted by emblems and gilded attributes, like those we see in pictures of Roman triumphs. Others carried little trees decorated with garlands and wreaths, with lighted candles and tinsel, just like our Christmas trees.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Bab-el-Fotouh page 66

We succeeded in reaching Bab-el-Fotouh, or the Gate of Victory. The long street which leads to it was completely filled with spectators whom the soldiers were keeping in place. The procession went along to the sound of trumpets, cymbals and drums, and the different peoples and sects were indicated by trophies and flags.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The Island of Rhoda page 94

We walked delightedly beneath the shade of tamarinds and baobabs; coconut palms with their long straight stems flaunted their fern-like foliage, but amid all these masses of strange vegetation, what seemed to me most exquisitely graceful were the avenues of bamboos which formed a curtain like our poplars. A little stream meandered about the grass, and peacocks and pink flamingoes blazed amid a host of tame birds. From time to time we rested beneath the shade of a kind of weeping willow, whose lofty trunk, straight as a mast, spread around it a curtain of thick foliage, so that one might believe oneself to be within a tent of green silk, flooded by a gentle light.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Heliopolis page 130

I was forgetting the obelisk of Heliopolis, which with its stone finger points the limit of the Syrian desert. Unfortunately I had never seen it except from a distance. All day long that monument was to remain in sight, for the cange continued to sail in zigzags.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Nahr-el-Kelb page 208

It was about three o’clock when we mounted our horses again and went down into the valley, at the bottom of which flows a little stream. Following its course on its way to the sea, and then going up again amid rocks and pine trees, now and again crossing fertile valleys planted with mulberry trees, olives and cotton shrubs, between which wheat and barley have been planted, we came at last to the banks of the Nahr-el-Kelb, or the River of the Dog, the ancient Lycus, whose scanty waters flow between reddish rocks and laurel bushes.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

El-Moyed Mosque page 68

It was not long before we reached the great bazaars and the vast street called Salahieh, where the mosques of El-Hazar, El-Moyed and the Moristan display their wondrous architecture, and push upwards towards the skies sheaves of minarets and cupolas.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The Caravan from Mecca page 65

It seemed like a nation on the march, a nation which had just formed itself into an enormous host, filling, on the right, the neighboring hills of Mokatam, and, on the left, the thousands of usually deserted buildings in the City of the Dead. The battlements on the walls and towers of Saladin, with their striped bands of yellow and red, also swarmed with spectators. . . . Further on still, in the plain through which the Calish meanders, were thousands of motley tents, where the pilgrims stayed to refresh themselves a while. There were singers and dancers also at the feast, and all the musicians of Cairo seemed to be there trying to see whether they could not make as much noise as the trumpeters and drummers of the procession, a monstrous orchestra perched upon camelback.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Nilometer page 100

We returned to Cairo, after having visited the building of Nilometer, where a graduated column, formerly consecrated to Seramis, goes down into a deep basin, and records the height of each year’s floods.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Palace at Choubrah page 105

My reply being apparently favorable, the slave jumped up and clapped her hands, repeating several times: “El fil! el fil!”

“What does she mean?” I asked Mansour.

“The siti (lady),” he told me, “would like to go and see an elephant she has heard about, which is at Mehemet Ali’s palace at Choubrah.”

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Hills of Mokatam page 41

Sometimes I go upon the terrace of my house in the Coptic quarter to see the first rays caressing, far away, the plain of Heliopolis and the slopes of Mokatam, where is the City of the Dead, between Cairo and Matarea. Usually, it is a splendid sight, as the dawn gradually colors the cupolas and delicate arches of the tombs consecrated to the three dynasties of caliphs, soldars and sultans who have ruled Egypt since the year 1000. Only one of the obelisks of the ancient temple of the sun is still standing; it rises from a thick clump of palm trees and sycamores, and is always favored by the first glance of the god who once was worshipped at its feet.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Cairo Bazaar page 58

We went right through the town until we came to the great bazaar quarter, and there, after going down a dark lane which turned at right angles from the main street, we entered an irregularly shaped courtyard without dismounting from our donkeys. In the middle was a well, shaded by a sycamore. On our right, along the wall, a dozen black men were standing. They seemed uneasy rather than unhappy, and most of them were dressed in the blue smock of the poorer classes. They were of all possible shades of color and form.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Lake Menzaleh page 150

A curtain of tall rushes, perhaps like those from which papyrus used to be made, still hid the shores of the lake from us, but at last we came to a creek made for the fishermen’s boats, and from there I might have imagined I saw the ocean itself upon a calm day. Yet, distant islets, tinged with rose by the rising sun, crowned here and there by domes and minarets, seemed to suggest a greater degree of peace, and little boats with lateen sails moved in hundreds over the still surface of the waters.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Storyteller page 373

I should give but an imperfect idea of the pleasures of Constantinople during Ramadan and the principal delights of its nights, if I said nothing about the marvelous stories recited or declaimed by professional storytellers attached to the chief cafés of Stamboul. . . . You sit down; a narghile or a long pipe is brought, and you listen to stories which, like the serials in our newspapers, go on as long as possible.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Abyssinian Slave page 71

In the square courtyard, where a number of Nubians and Abyssinians were strolling about, were many gateways and overhead galleries delightfully constructed; great moucharabys of turned woodwork overhung the entrance to a staircase with Moorish arcades, by which one went up to the apartments of the most beautiful slaves.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Sultan Hassan Mosque page 68

Since I could not get inside the palace of Mehemet Ali, a new palace, built in the Turkish style, and not particularly impressive, I went to the terrace from which one may look out over the whole of Cairo. It is impossible to give more than the feeblest idea of the impressiveness of the view, which is one of the finest in the world. In the near foreground the eye is held by the vast extent of the mosque of the Sultan Hassan, striped and speckled with red, and still bearing the traces of the grapeshot fired by the French at the time of the famous revolt of Cairo.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Beirut page 169

We stayed close to the shore, turned into the gulf, and there found a complete change — a landscape full of freshness, shade and silence. Beirut, at a calm period, looks like the Alps seen from the bosom of a Swiss lake. Here Europe and Asia seem to mingle in a sweet caress; to every pilgrim who has grown weary of sun and dust, it is like a maritime oasis where, with delight, he sees clouds before the mountains — clouds which in our northern climes seem sad and gloomy, but which to the traveler in the South seem so desirable and so beautiful.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Ghawazis page 46

The dancing girls appeared in a cloud of dust and tobacco smoke. The first thing about them that struck me was the brightness of the golden caps upon their tresses. As their heels beat upon the ground, with a tinkle of little bells and anklets, their raised arms quivered in harmony; their hips shook with a voluptuous movement; their form seemed bare under the muslin between the little jacket and the low loose girdle, like the ceston of Venus. They twirled around so quickly that it was hard to distinguish the features of these seductive creatures, whose fingers shook little cymbals, as large as castanets, as they gestured boldly to the primitive strains of flute and tambourine.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The Sweet Waters of Asia page 462

When we had passed the castles of Asia and Europe, our boat entered the river of the Sweet Waters. High vegetation, from which, every now and again, waterfowl kept rising, bordered the mouth of this river, which reminded me a little of the lower part of the Nile where, near the sea, it empties itself into the lake of Pelusa.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Donkeymen page 62

As seven o’clock drew near, the narrow street, into which the passage of the Waghorn hotel opens, was crowded with people, and the Arabs were greatly astonished to see so many guests entering one house. It was a great occasion for the beggars and donkeymen, who, on all sides, cried “Baksheesh” at the top of their voices.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Maronite Costume page 177

Everywhere around us there seemed to be life and comfort; the women well dressed, beautiful and unveiled, going and coming with those heavy pitchers which they fill at the cisterns, and carry gracefully upon their shoulders. Our hostess, who wore upon her head a kind of cone draped with a shawl, which, with the tresses of long hair adorned with sequins, gave her the air of an Assyrian queen, was only the wife of a tailor who kept a shop in the Beirut bazaar.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Balbek page 303

All four of us left Beit-Eddin on mules; we crossed the plain of Bekea, and after reaching Zakle, came to Balbek in Anti-Lebanon. For a few hours I dreamed amid these magnificent ruins which need no description from me after that of Volney and Lamartine.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Smyrna page 310

Smyrna is almost European. When one has seen the bazaar, just like every other bazaar in the Orient, the citadel, and the caravan bridge across the ancient Meles, which gave a surname to Homer, the best plan is to visit the street of Roses, where, through the windows and at the doorways, may be seen young Greek women, who never fly when a man has seen them, like Virgil’s nymph.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Buyukdere page 324

When I left the wood, which goes round an artillery barracks of enormous proportions, I found myself once more on the Buyukdere road. An uncultivated stretch of ground covered with turf stretches before the barracks, and there I assisted at a scene which cannot be dissociated from that which had gone before; some hundreds of dogs were howling impatiently on the grass. Soon afterwards I saw some gunners appear, two by two, carrying enormous cauldrons on long poles between their shoulders. The dogs expressed their delight by howls of joy. Hardly had the cauldrons been set down when the animals pounced upon the food they contained, and the soldiers had to busy themselves pushing them away with their long poles when they made too much of an obstruction.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Cemetery of Galata page 320

He mounted a horse, and having reached the other side, took the track which runs by the side of the outer walls of Galata, through the little graveyard, shaded by enormous cypresses, and so came to the main street of Pera.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Sultan Abdul-Medjid page 317

As I went down again towards the harbor, I saw the Sultan drive past in a most extraordinary kind of carriage. It had two wheels and was drawn by two horses in tandem harness. From its broad square-topped hood there fell a velvet shade with a golden fringe. The Sultan was wearing a plain frock coat buttoned up to the neck, such as the Turks have affected since the Reform, and the only distinguishing mark he bore was the imperial cypher embroidered in diamonds upon his scarlet fez. His pale, distinguished face was marked by a shade of melancholy. Mechanically, I took off my hat to greet him . . . The Sultan looked at me with some attention, for my action had betrayed my ignorance of the local custom: the Sultan is not to be saluted.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Acre page 285

Night was falling as we entered the harbor of Saint John of Acre. It was too late to go ashore, but in the clear starlight all the details of the gulf, which sweeps so gracefully between Acre and Kaiffa, stood out more sharply by reason of the contrast between land and sea. Some leagues beyond the horizon are the peaks of Anti-Lebanon which go down to the left, while, on the right, the rugged ridges of the Carmel range extend as far as Galilee. Of the sleeping town itself we could see only the crenellated walls, the square towers and the domes of the mosque, with but a single minaret. Apart from that Mussulman detail, Acre might still be the feudal city of the Templars, the last stronghold of the Crusades.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Constantinople page 315

What a strange city Constantinople is. Splendor and misery, joy and tears, a despotism greater than any that may be found elsewhere, yet, at the same time, a greater liberty. Here, four different peoples dwell together, and do not hate each other with more than a becoming hatred. Turks, Armenians, Greeks and Jews all live together in Constantinople as children of the same soil, and they seem to put up with one another better than men of different parties, or countrymen of different provinces, in our own land.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Caique page 360

In a caique, the passenger lies upon a mattress in the stern, while the rowers, with their strong arms and bronzed shoulders, attractively clothed in wide silken shirts with satin ribbons, drive their boat fiercely through the water. These men have charming manners, and, even at their work, assume attitudes which have an artistic beauty of their own.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Maiden’s Tower page 323

If you continue on your way, you quickly reach a sunken footpath, with thickets on either side, shaded by pine trees and larches, from which, through occasional clearings, you may see the sea and the mouth of the straits which separate Scutari from Seraglio point, at the extreme end of Stamboul. Leander’s Tower, which the Turks call the Maiden’s Tower, rises between the two towns, in the middle of an arm of the sea which seems, to your left, to continue as a river. It is a narrow square building set upon a rock, and from afar it looks like a watchtower.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The Burnt Column page 343

We went to Ildiz-Khan. It is in the highest part of the town, near the Burnt Column, one of the most interesting relics of the ancient Byzantium.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Whirling Dervishes page 368

At the Pera téké all the dervishes wear white robes pleated like the Greek fustanelles. In public performances their business is to spin round on their own axes as long as possible. All of them are clothed in white, except the chief, who wears blue. Every Tuesday and Friday the session begins with a sermon, after which all the dervishes bow before their superior, then take up positions in the hall in such a way that they can turn round without touching one another. The white skirts whirl, the head, with its felt cap, spins round, and each monk seems to be flying. Some of them play sad airs upon a reed flute. To the whirlers, as to the howlers, there comes a certain magnetic moment of exaltation which seems to produce a peculiar state of ecstasy.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Deir-Khamar page 298

All sorts of people have described Deir-Khamar and its cluster of flat-roofed houses grouped upon a mountain as steep as the staircase of some ruined Babel. Beit-Eddin, the ancient residence of the Emirs of the Mountain, stands upon another peak which almost seems to touch the first, but is separated from it by a valley. If, from Deir-Khamar, you look at Beit-Eddin, you think you are looking at a fairy castle; its pointed arcades, its bold terraces, its colonnades, pavilions and turrets present a mixture of every style, more impressive in the mass than satisfactory from the point of view of detail.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The Grand Bazaar page 317

We went through the splendid bazaars which form the center of Stamboul. They are like a labyrinth, solidly built in stone in the Byzantine style, and are a splendid place of refuge from the midday heat. Enormous galleries, some with round arches, others with pointed, with carved pillars and colonnades, are given over, each to a different kind of merchandise. Especially worthy of admiration are the dresses and slippers for women, the embroidered and pleated materials, shawls, carpets, furniture encrusted with gold, silver and mother-of-pearl, jewelry, and, more particularly, the weapons which are set out for sale in that part of the bazaar called Besestain.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Santon page 67

Then among the santons, a type of holy man still more wildly devout even than the dervishes, though their orthodoxy is not so readily admitted, several were piercing their cheeks with long sharp daggers, so that they went their way covered with blood, while others swallowed living serpents, and others again filled their mouths with burning coals. The women took no part in these practices, and the only ones who made themselves remarked among the crowd of pilgrims were bands of almées belonging to the caravan, who sang in unison long guttural complaints, not hesitating to display unveiled faces tattooed in red and blue, and noses transfixed by heavy rings.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The Sublime Porte page 469

So the old customs of a retired and grim existence which are attributed to the Mussulmans have given place to the progress which comes with modern ideas. Besides the principal entrance, specially called the Porte, two huge courtyards come before the main buildings of the seraglio. The farther one, with low galleries all round it, is often given over to the exercises of the pages, who have competitions in gymnastics and horsemanship.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Little Cemetery of Pera page 321

From the monastery of the dancing dervishes the view extends over the Little Cemetery, whose mysterious avenues, with their huge cypress trees, go down in the direction of the sea until they reach the navy buildings. Facing the monastery, there is a café which the dervishes, who are men essentially lively, and given to conversation, like to frequent. Set out in front of it are tables and stools, where one may drink coffee and smoke a narghile or a long wooden pipe.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Fountain at the Sweet Waters of Asia page 462

We went ashore in a delightful meadow with running streams. The skillfully cleared woods cast occasional shadows over the tall grass. A few tents, set up by those selling fruits and refreshments, made the scene look something like an oasis where the roving desert tribes halt. The meadow was full of people. The variegated shades of the dresses gave a warmth to the green, like bright flowers upon a lawn in spring. In the middle of the largest clearing, we could see a fountain of white marble, in that peculiar style resembling a Chinese pavilion which is so popular at Constantinople.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Sidon page 281

The packet slowed down, and some of the passengers, standing up, pointed out a white point upon the shore; we had reached Seyda, the ancient Sidon. . . . The gardens of Sidon flourish still as they did in the days of the worship of Astarte. The modern town is built a mile away from the old one, whose ruins surround a hillock surmounted by a square tower dating from the Middle Ages, and itself a ruin.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Solomon’s Well page 285

The famous freshwater wells of Ras-el-Ain which are mentioned in the Bible, and are real artesian wells, whose construction is attributed to Solomon, are still to be seen a league from the town, and the aqueduct with its tremendous arches, which took their water to Tyre, stands out against the skies. That is all that is left of Tyre, with its transparent vases, its splendid purple, its precious woods, that once were famous throughout all the world.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Mameluke page 43

M. Jean is a glorious relict of our army of Egypt. He was one of the thirty-three Frenchmen who took service among the Mamelukes after the retreat of the expedition. For several years he had, like the others, a palace, wives, horses and slaves. When that mighty army was destroyed, he, being a Frenchman, was spared, but back in civil life, his wealth disappeared in a very short time.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Serasker Square page 317

At one end of this almost subterranean town is a very lively square surrounded by buildings and mosques, called the Serasker Square. It is a kind of promenade in the center of the city, and is especially frequented by women and children. . . . The whole of one side is occupied by scribes, miniaturists and booksellers, and the square is given a character entirely its own by the graceful mosques, with their courtyards planted with trees, frequented by thousands of pigeons which settle in the square itself; the cafés, the stalls piled up with jewels, the Serasker Tower, dominating the whole city, and beyond, the gloomy walls of the old seraglio, where the Sultana-Mother now lives.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

Atmeidan page 471

The following morning was the first day of Baïram. Guns from all the forts and ships roared forth at daybreak, drowning the call of the Muezzins who hail Allah from the tops of a thousand minarets. This time the feast was to be at the Atmeïdan, a square famous for the memory of the Emperors of Byzantium who have left their monuments there. The square is oblong, and still keeps its old shape of a hippodrome, with the two obelisks round which the chariots used to turn in the days of the Byzantine contests between greens and blues.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient

The New Palace of Bechik-Tasch page 360

Soon we come to a succession of colonnades upon the left shore, which stretches for a quarter of a league. These are part of the buildings of the new palace of Bechik-Tasch. They are built entirely in the Greek style, and painted in white oils; the railings are gilded. The chimneys take the form of Doric columns, and the whole building gives an impression of majesty and grace. Glided barges are moored to the quays, whose marble steps go down to the waters’ edge. Beyond, vast gardens follow the slopes of the hills.

Gérard de Nerval, Journey to the Orient