Frederick Hubbard
Recently discovered manuscript of a Grand Tour taken by a well-educated American engineer in the years 1855 – 1857 encompassing Europe, Egypt and the Holy Land. Part II (this book) begins in Egypt where the author travels up and down the Nile, visiting tombs, temples, and villages. He continues on the “long desert route” to the Holy Land, retracing the probable route taken during the Exodus. Extensive observations are recorded in the Holy Land with insightful information and Biblical and social commentary. The route terminates in Beyrout, Syria (today Lebanon).
The book contains contemporary maps and the author’s own weather charts, and is generously annotated and profusely illustrated with original drawings by the author and “grangerized” engravings of the period. A selection of albumin prints (circa 1894) collected by the author's brother is also included. These prints illustrate many of the scenes described in the book. A must-have for collectors of travel in Egypt.
Obituary.
FREDERICK HUBBARD.
Entered into the rest of Paradise, at No. 20 Union Square, New York City, October 30, 1895, FREDERICK HUBBARD. In close of a completed life, he has left the memory of religion, pure and undefiled, to which his many friends may point with affectionate reverence. Born June 20, 1817, in Hamilton, Madison County, of Thomas H. and Phœbe Hubbard, his boyhood days were passed in Utica. Graduating at Hamilton College in 1836, he adopted the profession of engineering and was for many years connected with the laying out of the early railroads of the country, especially the Hudson River, Erie, Michigan Southern and Northern Indiana. For two years he was engaged in the erection of Harlem Bridge. Retiring from business some twenty-five years ago, he travelled extensively and occupied himself with classical reading and scientific research. Of positive conviction in religion, he brought to bear his wide erudition especially on Biblical studies. He long ago identified himself with Trinity Church, New York, where he was a regular worshipper and devout communicant, and entered into the practical work of helping in her many activities. Through his liberal gifts he was practically identified with many parishes throughout the country. Especially sympathetic with the sick and needy, he endowed beds in St. Luke’s Hospital and St. Mary’s Home; but so unostentatious was he in his charities, almost to secrecy, that their extent can only be guessed at. Simple in his demeanor, yet choice in his tastes, his life moved quietly on without parade, content in the satisfaction of doing good. In that great day of reward many will rise up to call him blessed, and, though he has passed from the field of his rich activities here, his works do follow him.
Again among the tombs we spent several hours in examining the interesting paintings which cover the plaster of their walls with permanent illustrations of the mythology as well as of the daily life of the early Egyptians. The number of receptacles for the dead which this mountain cemetery contains along its slopes and in its numerous dismal ravines and hollows is almost infinite. Many have been rifled and left empty; many are now being explored, and vast numbers more, in all probability, exist undiscovered, their entrances concealed by rubbish. All were at one time stored with the dead. Besides the remains that have been carried away by curious travellers or that lie scattered around the rocks, plundered by the natives in search of curiosities, there exist still, undisturbed in their ancient resting places, the dried, leathery bodies of the inhabitants of Thebes, by tens of thousands and, as some compute, by many millions. The whole mountain for miles is full of them. We entered one of the caves where the mummies lie piled-up in countless numbers. Dragging ourselves in, snake-fashion, through a small aperture just large enough to admit us, we found a series of communicating chambers which seemed to extend indefinitely into the mountain. They were filled nearly to the roofs of the apartments with the bandaged bodies of the dead, stored rank over rank like so many bags of grain. There was just space enough left unoccupied to permit us to crawl over this accumulated mass of humanity. They were probably the bodies of the less wealthy classes, as there were no stone sarcophagi or wooden coffins and the tomb was quite un-ornamented. Each body was carefully wrapped-up, however, in its multifarious bandages, now brittle with the lapse of time, and covered over with a fine, impalpable, suffocating dust. It is singular how light in weight the human form becomes by the slow desiccation of centuries. The mummy of a large man, with all its voluminous wrappings, weighs now but a very few pounds.
The upper stratum of bodies had been more or less plundered by the unsparing Arabs. Bandages were torn-open and the crisp, shrunken forms exposed. Out of the miscellaneous masses of dust, bones, and rotten cloths, black withered faces peered out at us from every direction; perhaps our flickering lights deceived us, but they seemed to follow us with their gaze, as if wondering why we had thus disturbed their long repose. _______________________________________________
On returning from El Deir to the tents, we were met by one of our men, who had sought us with information that the English party had taken their departure and that some of our own servants, frightened by the threats of the Bedouins, had left with them. We found the camp in great commotion. A further party of Wady Mousa men had come in, and there were violent discussions going on in the harsh Arabic tongue. We could understand no more of the points of the debate than that they related to further backsheesh and to a division of the spoils. The newly arrived were determined to have their share and to enforce their demands by a plunder of the baggage. The Arabs of our escort stood to their duty manfully, resisting the attempt; for a little while, matters seemed about coming to a crisis between parties very unequal in numbers. Flashing eyes and drawn swords and lighted matches shewed the appearance, at least, of earnestness. I never saw such fiends in human shape as these Arabs of Wady Mousa: black scowling brows and eyes – having more the glare of savage beasts or the malevolent passions of demons than rational intelligence – drawn weapons flourished over heads accompanied by a most infernal howling and shouting – a scene worthy of Pandemonium or of the accursed Land of Edom.
Violent demonstration, rather than real violence, was the object intended; for although swords were drawn against each other and guns threateningly presented, the men managed to avoid actual encounter. The ugly scars, however, and mutilated limbs of some of these human demons shewed that they were no strangers to violence and bloodshed. After some further attempts at plunder and some compromise on the part of our dragoman, we were all required to leave forthwith and prohibited from any further visits to the ruins. This year they have been more than usually violent. Several parties preceding us were unable even to gain admission.
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The scene in our encampment was a striking one at night; I wish that I could have transferred it to canvass with all its Oriental features and colouring and its strong contrasts of light and shade. Outside the camp a circle of camels lay at anchor on the beach, chewing the cud and growling to each other in low tones as if comparing and brooding over their individual wrongs. Their Arab owners were grouped together around a bright fire at the foot of a clump of palm-trees, where they sat chatting, smoking, making coffee, and enjoying themselves with the perfect abandon which suits so well the free child of the desert. The strong glow thrown upward on the underside of the feathery branches produced a striking effect of illumination compared with the heavy masses of shadow that rested solidly on other parts of the foliage. The white canvass walls of the tents stood out strongly revealed on a dark background. In the front of the picture, at the foot of one of the ragged trunks of date-trees, in the full light of the fire, stood an Arab in a bright scarlet dress going through his evening devotions, with his face turned towards the shrine of his Prophet. Beyond all, the bold Arabian Mountains heaved up their rocky forms along the horizon, bounding the picture with their broad, faint masses of gloom.
We slept soundly at night to the music of the rippling water.
