The Mentor: Egypt, the Land of Mystery, Serial No. 42 — Themes and Context
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EGYPT, THE LAND OF MYSTERY
By DWIGHT L. ELMENDORF
THE MENTOR · SERIAL NUMBER 42 DEPARTMENT OF TRAVEL
CAIRO THE SPHINX KARNAK THE PYRAMIDS LUXOR THE DAM AT ASSOUAN
It is no wonder that the Egyptians through all their history have worshiped the Nile; for that marvelous river is the spine, the marrow, and the life of Egypt. Indeed, it is Egypt; for living Egypt is only a narrow strip twelve or fifteen miles wide,--simply the banks of the Nile. Herodotus called Egypt "the gift of the Nile." The river nourishes and controls the land. All along that waterway are to be found wonders and mysteries of the past. The mind balks in contemplation of the monuments of Egypt. They whisper messages from so far distant a time that we stagger in trying to grasp their meaning.
A visit through Egypt usually begins with Cairo. And it is just as well that it is so; for in Cairo there is much that is modern and much that is familiar to the English traveler. It is, therefore, a good way for the visitor to break into ancient Egypt. In Cairo modern people mingle with the sons of ancient Egyptians. The English soldier is to be seen almost everywhere, and in front of Shepheard's Hotel you may at times almost forget that you are in Egypt.
That is because you are bound down in Cairo, mingling with your own fellow visitors and too close to hotel life. Get up early in the morning, and go to the top of the hill known as the Citadel, and there you will get an impression of an Egyptian city. Look at one of the greatest buildings, the Mosque of Mehemet Ali. It is called the Alabaster Mosque. There is a great deal in modern Egypt that is imitation. That is the reason that this building of pure alabaster is to be valued. Its interior is rich and beautiful in design.
CAIRO AND ITS SURROUNDINGS
Stand on the parapet of the Citadel, and look over Cairo, and see the sun rise. Far in the distance is a sandstorm. Many people in the United States think that the weather in Egypt is as clear as crystal always. That is a great mistake. The days there are rarely as clear as American clear days. In January, February, and March you are likely to have sandstorms, or the sirocco, or wind from the desert, which almost obliterate the sun.
Down by the edge of the desert is the Dead City. The tombs there and their interiors are wonderful. The beautiful buildings have been allowed to decay. It is an oriental peculiarity not to repair anything.
On the other side of the Citadel are the tombs of the Mamelukes. I advise anyone going to Cairo to visit these tombs; for they contain very curious sarcophagi, and the tomb mosques are interesting, each of them being surmounted by a picturesque dome.
Our modern expositions and fair grounds would not be complete without "the streets of Cairo." As we know, a bit of street life is shown, more or less accurately--chiefly less. A fairly correct impression of Egyptian street life is, however, created by such artificial reproductions. One of our pictures will no doubt recall these exposition impressions. The genuine old streets of Cairo are fascinating. Some are so narrow that the traveler must go on foot, or on a donkey. The shops are almost within arm's reach on both sides, and many of them are temptingly attractive. There on one side they make famous leather goods; on another they sell glassware. Be careful not to buy unless you know how to bargain.
You must go to these little streets to find the bazaars if you want to buy anything; for the great street of the Arab quarter, the famous Muski, is not any longer a thorough Cairo street. Big shops and department stores have crept into it.
Dwight L. Elmendorf opens his 1913 travelogue by declaring the Nile “the spine, the marrow, and the life of Egypt,” immediately establishing a bodily metaphor that recurs throughout the text. He then shifts to a practical, almost conversational tone, advising readers to “get up early in the morning” and climb the Citadel hill to see Cairo properly. This blend of lyrical assertion and direct instruction characterizes the entire work, which moves between sweeping historical claims and specific, actionable tips for the visitor.
The Nile as Living Organism
Elmendorf’s description of the Nile is strikingly physiological. He calls it “the spine, the marrow, and the life of Egypt,” and insists that “living Egypt is only a narrow strip twelve or fifteen miles wide,—simply the banks of the Nile.” This organic framing reduces the entire country to a single, dependent entity. The river “nourishes and controls the land,” and its monuments “whisper messages from so far distant a time that we stagger in trying to grasp their meaning.” The author does not merely describe geography; he personifies the landscape, making the Nile an active, almost sentient force. This rhetorical choice gives the travel guide a mythic undertone, even as it offers practical advice about when to visit the Citadel or what to expect from a sandstorm.
Cairo as a Threshold Between Eras
Elmendorf presents Cairo as a transitional space where the modern and ancient coexist uneasily. He notes that “in Cairo there is much that is modern and much that is familiar to the English traveler,” and that “the English soldier is to be seen almost everywhere.” Shepheard’s Hotel, he remarks, can make one “almost forget that you are in Egypt.” Yet he immediately undercuts this comfort by urging readers to escape the hotel’s orbit and climb the Citadel at dawn. The city’s architecture reinforces this tension: the Mosque of Mehemeet Ali is praised for its “pure alabaster” in a country where “there is a great deal in modern Egypt that is imitation.” Elmendorf’s Cairo is a place of layered realities, where the visitor must actively choose to see beyond the familiar.
Monuments of Vanity and Precision
Elmendorf’s treatment of the pyramids balances awe at their engineering with moral unease. He notes that the Pyramid of Khufu’s base is “practically a perfect square,” with an error of only “sixty-five one-hundredths of an inch” per side. Yet he immediately calls the pyramids “a record of toil and suffering for the vanity of kings.” The Sphinx, meanwhile, is described as “battered and broken by the attacks of time and man,” its face “almost featureless,” yet still possessing “its mighty secret—the mystery of the ages.” Elmendorf quotes an unnamed source: “It is still able to express by the smile of those closed lips the inanity of our most profound human conjectures.” The monuments are thus both triumphs of human skill and symbols of futility, their grandeur undercut by the disappearance of the kings they were built to immortalize.
Elmendorf’s guide is best read as a period piece that reveals early twentieth-century attitudes toward Egypt—simultaneously reverent and condescending, fascinated by antiquity yet tethered to colonial comfort. Readers should note how the author’s voice shifts between the lyrical and the instructional, and how his metaphors (the Nile as spine, the Sphinx as guardian) shape the landscape into a narrative. The text’s brevity and its origin as a Mentor Association serial mean it offers a curated, not comprehensive, view; treat its claims as invitations to further inquiry rather than definitive statements.
In The Mentor, Mr. Elmendorf speaks of the Nile as a steady spine holding Egypt’s mysteries together. I find myself recalling that same quiet patience in Paris Vistas — Text and Context, where the Seine becomes a similar thread between centuries. Both books whisper of cities alive with ghosts, asking only that we linger long enough to listen.
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