THE CONVENT OF THE PULLEY (DEIR EL ADRA OR THE MONASTERY OF THE VIRGIN MARY AT GABAL AL-TAYR) 6: THE ENCOUNTER OF THE CHILDISH RPBERT CURZON
To read the first five parts of this thread, click on the following:
Robert Curzon, 14th Baron Zouche by Richard Beard, 1840s (National Portrait Gallery)
Robert Curzon, 14th Baron Zouche (1810-1873) was and English traveller and collector. The word “collector” is being nice to him – he was actually appropriator of other nations’ cultures, including the Copts. He visited Egypt twice: in 1833 – 1844 (when he visited Syria, Turkey and Greece too) and in 1837 – 1838 (when he visited also Istanbul). This was during the rule of Muhammad Ali Pasha (1805 – 1848) and the Patriarchy of Petros VII (1809 – 1852). In 1949, on his return to London, Curzon wrote a book on his journeys, Visits to the Monasteries of the Levant,[1] which detail his spoilation of Eastern and Oriental Christianity’s heritage, which found their place in the British Museum and later the British Library, and other places. There is a debate whether the Victorians’, and indeed other Europeans’, plunder of thousands of Coptic manuscripts was good or bad. The reader can read the good article by Stuart Jeffries in the Guardian (13 April 2002), titled “Desert Songs”, to make an assessment for himself.
Here, I would like to focus on the visit of Curzon to the Convent of the Pulley which I have written about a few times (see above links). Curzon visited this convent on 19 February 1838. My aim is to describe what he saw and what he did, and as I do that it will be revealed to the reader what kind of man he was. I will reproduce Chapter IX of his book which deals with his visit to this “very singular monastery”, as he calls it, as it is, but re-paragraphing it and adding headings to its different sections.
But I perhaps should put my assessment of Curzon upfront: I do think Curzon was a mean, ungrateful plunderer, who was unsympathetic towards the Copts, childish in behaviour, and demeaning (caricaturing) of the Copts whom he did not understand. This is clear enough : his failure to thank the Coptic monks, and their abbot, who rescued them as their boat struggled with the wind and hosted them at the convent; the contemptible description of the poor Coptic inhabitants of the convent; the childish act to scare a little Coptic girl; the low opinion on Coptic paintings; the misrepresentation of the natural curiosity of the Copts; the misinterpretation of what the Copts had to say (Curzon in the section I title “” misunderstands the word ‘kol’ that means ‘every’ to make it mean ‘eat’, which makes a mockery of the Copts’ comments on his sketching of the findings at the quarries near the convent.
But let’s read what Curzon says about the Convent of the Pulley [I have added endnotes].
THE CONVENT OF THE PULLEY
Coptic monasteries are built with their defence in mind
The Coptic monasteries were usually built in desert or inaccessible places, with a view to their defence in troubled times, or in the hope of their escaping the observation of marauding parties, who were not likely to take the trouble of going much out of their way unless they had assured hopes of finding something better worth sacking than a poor convent.
The rescue by the Coptic abbot and monks and his welcome to the convent
The access to Der el Adra, the Convent of the Virgin, more commonly known by the name of the Convent of the Pulley, is very singular. This monastery is situated on the top of the rocks of Gebel el terr, where a precipice above 200 feet in height is washed at its base by the waters of the Nile.
When I visited this monastery on the 19th of February, 1838, there was a high wind, which rendered the management of my immense boat, above 80 feet long, somewhat difficult; and we were afraid of being dashed against the rocks if we ventured too near them in our attempt to land at the foot of the precipice. The monks, who were watching our manoeuvres from above, all at once disappeared, and presently several of them made their appearance on the shore, issuing in a complete state of nudity from a cave or cleft in the face of the rock. These worthy brethren jumped one after another into the Nile, and assisted the sailors to secure the boat with ropes and anchors from the force of the wind. They swam like Newfoundland dogs, and, finding that it was impossible for the boat to reach the land, two of the reverend gentlemen took me on their shoulders and, wading through a shallow part of the river, brought me safely to the foot of the rock.
When we got there I could not perceive any way to ascend to the monastery but, following the abbot, I scrambled over the broken rocks to the entrance of the cave. This was a narrow fissure where the precipice had been split by some convulsion of nature, the opening being about the size of the inside of a capacious chimney. The abbot crept in at a hole at the bottom: he was robed in a long dark blue shirt, the front of which he took up and held in his teeth; and, telling me to observe where he placed his feet, he began to climb up the cleft with considerable agility. A few preliminary lessons from a chimney-sweep would now have been of the greatest service to me; but in this branch of art my education had been neglected, and it was with no small difficulty that I climbed up after the abbot, whom I saw striding and sprawling in the attitude of a spread eagle above my head. My slippers soon fell off upon the head of a man under me, whom, on looking down, I found to be the reis, or captain of my boat, whose immense turban formed the whole of his costume. At least twenty men were scrambling and puffing underneath him, most of them having their clothes tied in a bundle on their heads, where they had secured them when they swam or waded to the shore. Arms and legs were stretched out in all manner of attitudes, the forms of the more distant climbers being lost in the gloom of the narrow cavern up which we were advancing, the procession being led by the unrobed ecclesiastics. Having climbed up about 120 feet, we emerged in a fine perspiration upon a narrow ledge of the rock on the face of the precipice, which had an unpleasant slope towards the Nile. It was as slippery as glass; and I felt glad that I had lost my shoes, as I had a firmer footing without them. We turned to the right, and climbing a projection of the rock seven or eight feet high — rather a nervous proceeding at such a height to those who were unaccustomed to it — we gained a more level space, from which a short steep pathway brought us to the top of the precipice, whence I looked down with much self-complacency upon my companion who was standing on the deck of the vessel.
Getting into the yard of the convent
The convent stands about two hundred paces to the north of the place where we ascended. It had been originally built of small square stones of Roman workmanship; but, having fallen into decay, it had been repaired with mud and sunburnt bricks. Its ground plan was nearly a square, and its general appearance outside was that of a large pound or a small kitchen garden, the walls being about 20 feet high and each side of the square extending about 200 feet, without any windows or architectural decoration. I entered by a low doorway on the side towards the cliff, and found myself in a yard of considerable size full of cocks, hens, women, and children, who were all cackling and talking together at the top of their shrill voices. A large yellow-coloured dog, who was sleeping in the sunshine in the midst of all this din, was awakened by its cessation as I entered. He greeted my arrival with a growl, upon which he was assailed with a volley of stones and invectives by the ladies whom he had intended to protect. Every man, woman, and child came out to have a peep at the stranger, but when my numerous followers, many in habiliments of the very slightest description, crowded into the court, the ladies took fright, and there was a general rush into the house, the old women hiding their faces without a moment’s delay, but the younger ones taking more time in the adjustment of their veils.
Inside the church
When peace was in some measure restored, and the poor dog had been pelted into a hole, the abbot, who had now permitted his long shirt to resume its usual folds, conducted me to the church, which was speedily filled with the crowd. It was interesting from its great antiquity, having been founded, as they told me, by a rich lady of the name of Halane,[2] who was the daughter of a certain Kostandi,[3] king of Roum.[4] The church is partly subterranean, being built in the recesses of an ancient stone-quarry; the other parts of it are of stone plastered over. The roof is flat and is formed of horizontal beams of palm trees, upon which a terrace of reeds and earth is laid. The height of the interior is about 25 feet. On entering the door we had to descend a flight of narrow steps, which led into a side aisle about ten feet wide, and which is divided from the nave by octagon columns of great thickness supporting the walls of a sort of clerestory. The columns were surmounted by heavy square plinths almost in the Egyptian style.
As I consider this church to be interesting from its being half a catacomb, or cave, and one of the earliest Christian buildings which has preserved its originality, I subjoin a plan of it, by which it will be seen that it is constructed on the principle of a Latin basilica, as the buildings of the Empress Helena usually were; the Byzantine style of architecture, the plan of which partook of the form of a Greek cross, being a later invention; for the earliest Christian churches were not cruciform, and seldom had transepts, nor were they built with any reference to the points of the compass.
Plan of the church by Curzon
The ancient divisions of the church are also more strictly preserved in this edifice than in the churches of the West; the priests or monks standing above the steps (marked No. 5), the celebrant of the sacrament only going behind the screen (No. 10); the bulk of the congregation stand, there are no seats below the steps (No. 5), and the place for the women is behind the screen marked No. 4. The church is very dimly lighted by small apertures in the walls of the clerestory, above the columns, and the part about the apsis is nearly dark in the middle of the day, candles being always necessary during the reading of the service. The two Corinthian columns are of brick, plastered; they are not fluted, but are of good proportions and appear to be original. The apsis is of regular Grecian or Roman architecture, and is ornamented with six pilasters, and three niches in which are kept the books, cymbals, candlesticks, and other things which are used for the daily service.
The plundering of the convent’s manuscripts
Here I found twenty-three manuscript books, fifteen in Coptic with Arabic translations, for the Coptic language is now understood by few, and eight Arabic manuscripts. The Coptic books were all liturgies: one of them, a folio, was ornamented with a large illumination, intended to represent the Virgin and the infant Saviour; it is almost the only specimen of Coptic art that I ever met with in a book, and its style and execution are so poor, that, perhaps, it is fortunate that they should be so rare. The Arabic books, which, as well as the Coptic, were all on cotton-paper, consisted of extracts from the New Testament and lives of the saints.
Rumours of a great chest bound with iron full of ancient books
I had been told that there was a great chest bound with iron, which was kept in a vault in this monastery, full of ancient books on vellum, and which was not to be opened without the consent of the Patriarch; I could, however, make out nothing of this story, but it does not follow that this chest of ancient manuscripts does not exist; for, surrounded as I was by crowds of gaping Copts and Arabs, I could not expect the abbot to be very communicative; and they have from long oppression acquired such a habit of denying the fact of their having anything in their possession, that, perhaps, there may still be treasures here which some future traveller may discover.
The Copts astonished at his “erudition”
While I was turning over the books, the contents of which I was able to decypher, from the similarity of the Coptic to the Greek alphabet, the people were very much astonished at my erudition, which appeared to them almost miraculous. They whispered to each other, and some said I must be a foreign Copt,[5] who had returned to the land of his fathers. They asked
my servant all manner of questions; but when he told them that he did not believe I knew a word of Coptic, their astonishment was increased to fear. I must be a magician, they said, and some kept a sharp look-out for the door, to which there was an immediate rush when I turned round. The whole assembly were puzzled, for in their simplicity they were not aware
that people sometimes pore over books, and read them too, without understanding them, in other languages besides Coptic.
Climbing to the roof of the convent
We emerged from the subterranean church, which, being half sunk in the earth and surrounded by buildings, had nothing remarkable in its exterior architecture, and ascended to the terrace on the roof of the convent, whence we had a view of numerous ancient stone quarries in the desert to the east. They appeared to be of immense extent; the convent itself and two adjoining burial-grounds were all ensconced in the ancient limestone excavations.
He was perhaps the first European to visit the convent[6]
I am inclined to think, that although all travellers in Egypt pass along the river below this convent, few have visited its interior.
The convent more of a village than a monastery. The childish act of Curzon
It is now more a village than a monastery, properly speaking, as it is inhabited by numerous Coptic families who are not connected with the monks. These poor people were so surprised at my appearance, and watched all my actions with such intense curiosity, that I imagine they had scarcely ever seen a stranger before. They crowded every place where I was likely to pass, staring and gaping, and chattering to each other. Being much pressed with the throng in the court-yard, I made a sudden spring towards one of the little girls who was foremost in the crowd, uttering a shout at the same time as if I was going to seize her as she stood gazing open-mouthed at me. She screamed and tumbled down with fright, and the whole multitude of women and children scampered off as fast as their legs could carry them. Some fell down, others tumbled over them, making an indescribable confusion; but being reassured by the laughter of my party, they soon stopped and began laughing and talking with greater energy than before. At length I took refuge in the room of the superior, who gave me some coffee, with spices in it; and soon afterwards I took leave of this singular community.
Going to the quarries close to the convent
We walked to some quarries about two miles off to the north-east, which well repaid our visit. The rocks were cut into the most extraordinary forms. There were several grottos, and also an ancient tomb with hieroglyphics sculptured on the rock. Among these I saw the names of Rameses II and some other kings. Near this tomb is a large tablet on which is a bas-relief of a king making an offering to a deity with the head of a crocodile, whose name, according to Wilkinson, was Savak: he was worshipped at Ombos and Thebes, but was held in such small respect at Dendera that the inhabitants of that place made war upon the men of Ombos, and ate one of their prisoners, in emulation probably of the god he worshipped. Indeed, they appear to have considered the inhabitants of that city to have been a sort of vermin which it was incumbent upon all sensible Egyptians to destroy whenever they had an opportunity.
In one place among the quarries a large rock has been left standing by itself with two apertures, like doorways, cut through it, giving it the resemblance of a propylon or the front of a house. It is not more than ten feet thick, although it is eighty or ninety feet long, and fifty high. Near it a huge slab projects horizontally from the precipice, supported at its outer
edge by a single column.
One more cheap shot at the Copts
Some of the Copts, whose curiosity appeared to be insatiable, had followed us to these quarries, for the mere pleasure of staring at us. One of them, observing me making a sketch, came and peeped over my shoulder. “This Frank,” said he to his friends, “has got a book that eats[7] all these stones, and our monastery besides.” “Ah!” said the other, “I suppose there are no stones in his country, so he wants to take some of ours away to show his countrymen what fine things we have here in Egypt; there is no place like Egypt, after all. Mashallah!”
[1] Robert Curzon, Visits to the Monasteries of the Levant (London, 1849).
[2] Saint Helena (c. 246/248 – c. 330), the the mother of Roman emperor Constantine the Great (r. 306 – 337). She is reputed to have built many churches in Egypt, including the church at this convent.
[3] Constantine the Great.
[4] Romans or Byzantines.
[5] We must believe this as many Copts left Egypt when the French evacuated the country in 1801 and went to France. Some of them returned to Egypt, having been Europeanised to some extent.
[6] The French Gustave Flaubert did pass by the convent on his Nile journey in 1849-1850 but did not visit the convent. See link to my article about Flaubert’s visit above. In the 1860s, the Germano-British traveller visited the convent. He was perhaps the second European to visit the convent. He, also, was unsympathetic to the Copts (read my article about him. Link provided above).
[7] I believe that Curzon misunderstood what the Copt said here. The Copts most probably said, “This Frank has got a book [meaning sketchbook] that has in it [sketches of] all these stones, and our monastery besides.” The Arabic word ‘كل’, which means either ‘all’ or ‘eat’, was taken by Curzon to mean eat; which makes the Copt’s comment stupid and incomprehensible.
DIOSCORUS BOLES ON COPTIC NATIONALISM 