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Title: Eothen

Author: A. W. Kinglake

Release Date: June, 1995  [EBook #282]
[This file was first posted on August 3, 1995]

Edition: 10

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, EOTHEN ***




Transcribed from the 1898 George Newnes edition by David Price,
email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk




EOTHEN--A. W. KINGSLAKE




CHAPTER I--OVER THE BORDER



At Semlin I still was encompassed by the scenes and the sounds of
familiar life; the din of a busy world still vexed and cheered me;
the unveiled faces of women still shone in the light of day.  Yet,
whenever I chose to look southward, I saw the Ottoman's fortress--
austere, and darkly impending high over the vale of the Danube--
historic Belgrade.  I had come, as it were, to the end of this
wheel-going Europe, and now my eyes would see the splendour and
havoc of the East.

The two frontier towns are less than a cannon-shot distant, and yet
their people hold no communion.  The Hungarian on the north, and
the Turk and Servian on the southern side of the Save are as much
asunder as though there were fifty broad provinces that lay in the
path between them.  Of the men that bustled around me in the
streets of Semlin there was not, perhaps, one who had ever gone
down to look upon the stranger race dwelling under the walls of
that opposite castle.  It is the plague, and the dread of the
plague, that divide the one people from the other.  All coming and
going stands forbidden by the terrors of the yellow flag.  If you
dare to break the laws of the quarantine, you will be tried with
military haste; the court will scream out your sentence to you from
a tribunal some fifty yards off; the priest, instead of gently
whispering to you the sweet hopes of religion, will console you at
duelling distance; and after that you will find yourself carefully
shot, and carelessly buried in the ground of the lazaretto.

When all was in order for our departure we walked down to the
precincts of the quarantine establishment, and here awaited us a
"compromised" {1} officer of the Austrian Government, who lives in
a state of perpetual excommunication.  The boats, with their
"compromised" rowers, were also in readiness.

After coming in contact with any creature or thing belonging to the
Ottoman Empire it would be impossible for us to return to the
Austrian territory without undergoing an imprisonment of fourteen
days in the odious lazaretto.  We felt, therefore, that before we
committed ourselves it was important to take care that none of the
arrangements necessary for the journey had been forgotten; and in
our anxiety to avoid such a misfortune, we managed the work of
departure from Semlin with nearly as much solemnity as if we had
been departing this life.  Some obliging persons, from whom we had
received civilities during our short stay in the place, came down
to say their farewell at the river's side; and now, as we stood
with them at the distance of three or four yards from the
"compromised" officer, they asked if we were perfectly certain that
we had wound up all our affairs in Christendom, and whether we had
no parting requests to make.  We repeated the caution to our
servants, and took anxious thought lest by any possibility we might
be cut off from some cherished object of affection:- were they
quite sure that nothing had been forgotten--that there was no
fragrant dressing-case with its gold-compelling letters of credit
from which we might be parting for ever?--No; all our treasures lay
safely stowed in the boat, and we were ready to follow them to the
ends of the earth.  Now, therefore, we shook hands with our Semlin
friends, who immediately retreated for three or four paces, so as
to leave us in the centre of a space between them and the
"compromised" officer.  The latter then advanced, and asking once
more if we had done with the civilised world, held forth his hand.
I met it with mine, and there was an end to Christendom for many a
day to come.

We soon neared the southern bank of the river, but no sounds came
down from the blank walls above, and there was no living thing that
we could yet see, except one great hovering bird of the vulture
race, flying low, and intent, and wheeling round and round over the
pest-accursed city.

But presently there issued from the postern a group of human
beings--beings with immortal souls, and possibly some reasoning
faculties; but to me the grand point was this, that they had real,
substantial, and incontrovertible turbans.  They made for the point
towards which we were steering, and when at last I sprang upon the
shore, I heard, and saw myself now first surrounded by men of
Asiatic blood.  I have since ridden through the land of the
Osmanlees, from the Servian border to the Golden Horn--from the
Gulf of Satalieh to the tomb of Achilles; but never have I seen
such ultra-Turkish looking fellows as those who received me on the
banks of the Save.  They were men in the humblest order of life,
having come to meet our boat in the hope of earning something by
carrying our luggage up to the city; but poor though they were, it
was plain that they were Turks of the proud old school, and had not
yet forgotten the fierce, careless bearing of their once victorious
race.

Though the province of Servia generally has obtained a kind of
independence, yet Belgrade, as being a place of strength on the
frontier, is still garrisoned by Turkish troops under the command
of a Pasha.  Whether the fellows who now surrounded us were
soldiers, or peaceful inhabitants, I did not understand:  they wore
the old Turkish costume; vests and jackets of many and brilliant
colours, divided from the loose petticoat-trousers by heavy volumes
of shawl, so thickly folded around their waists as to give the
meagre wearers something of the dignity of true corpulence.  This
cincture enclosed a whole bundle of weapons; no man bore less than
one brace of immensely long pistols, and a yataghan (or cutlass),
with a dagger or two of various shapes and sizes; most of these
arms were inlaid with silver, and highly burnished, so that they
contrasted shiningly with the decayed grandeur of the garments to
which they were attached (this carefulness of his arms is a point
of honour with the Osmanlee, who never allows his bright yataghan
to suffer from his own adversity); then the long drooping
mustachios, and the ample folds of the once white turbans, that
lowered over the piercing eyes, and the haggard features of the
men, gave them an air of gloomy pride, and that appearance of
trying to be disdainful under difficulties, which I have since seen
so often in those of the Ottoman people who live, and remember old
times; they seemed as if they were thinking that they would have
been more usefully, more honourably, and more piously employed in
cutting our throats than in carrying our portmanteaus.  The
faithful Steel (Methley's Yorkshire servant) stood aghast for a
moment at the sight of his master's luggage upon the shoulders of
these warlike porters, and when at last we began to move up he
could scarcely avoid turning round to cast one affectionate look
towards Christendom, but quickly again he marched on with steps of
a man, not frightened exactly, but sternly prepared for death, or
the Koran, or even for plural wives.

The Moslem quarter of a city is lonely and desolate.  You go up and
down, and on over shelving and hillocky paths through the narrow
lanes walled in by blank, windowless dwellings; you come out upon
an open space strewed with the black ruins that some late fire has
left; you pass by a mountain of castaway things, the rubbish of
centuries, and on it you see numbers of big, wolf-like dogs lying
torpid under the sun, with limbs outstretched to the full, as if
they were dead; storks, or cranes, sitting fearless upon the low
roofs, look gravely down upon you; the still air that you breathe
is loaded with the scent of citron, and pomegranate rinds scorched
by the sun, or (as you approach the bazaar) with the dry, dead
perfume of strange spices.  You long for some signs of life, and
tread the ground more heavily, as though you would wake the
sleepers with the heel of your boot; but the foot falls noiseless
upon the crumbling soil of an Eastern city, and silence follows you
still.  Again and again you meet turbans, and faces of men, but
they have nothing for you--no welcome--no wonder--no wrath--no
scorn--they look upon you as we do upon a December's fall of snow--
as a "seasonable," unaccountable, uncomfortable work of God, that
may have been sent for some good purpose, to be revealed hereafter.

Some people had come down to meet us with an invitation from the
Pasha, and we wound our way up to the castle.  At the gates there
were groups of soldiers, some smoking, and some lying flat like
corpses upon the cool stones.  We went through courts, ascended
steps, passed along a corridor, and walked into an airy,
whitewashed room, with an European clock at one end of it, and
Moostapha Pasha at the other; the fine, old, bearded potentate
looked very like Jove--like Jove, too, in the midst of his clouds,
for the silvery fumes of the narghile {2} hung lightly circling
round him.

The Pasha received us with the smooth, kind, gentle manner that
belongs to well-bred Osmanlees; then he lightly clapped his hands,
and instantly the sound filled all the lower end of the room with
slaves; a syllable dropped from his lips which bowed all heads, and
conjured away the attendants like ghosts (their coming and their
going was thus swift and quiet, because their feet were bare, and
they passed through no door, but only by the yielding folds of a
purder).  Soon the coffee-bearers appeared, every man carrying
separately his tiny cup in a small metal stand; and presently to
each of us there came a pipe-bearer, who first rested the bowl of
the tchibouque at a measured distance on the floor, and then, on
this axis, wheeled round the long cheery stick, and gracefully
presented it on half-bended knee; already the well-kindled fire was
glowing secure in the bowl, and so, when I pressed the amber up to
mine, there was no coyness to conquer; the willing fume came up,
and answered my slightest sigh, and followed softly every breath
inspired, till it touched me with some faint sense and
understanding of Asiatic contentment.

Asiatic contentment!  Yet scarcely, perhaps, one hour before I had
been wanting my bill, and ringing for waiters, in a shrill and busy
hotel.

In the Ottoman dominions there is scarcely any hereditary influence
except that which belongs to the family of the Sultan, and wealth,
too, is a highly volatile blessing, not easily transmitted to the
descendant of the owner.  From these causes it results that the
people standing in the place of nobles and gentry are official
personages, and though many (indeed the greater number) of these
potentates are humbly born and bred, you will seldom, I think, find
them wanting in that polished smoothness of manner, and those well-
undulating tones which belong to the best Osmanlees.  The truth is,
that most of the men in authority have risen from their humble
station by the arts of the courtier, and they preserve in their
high estate those gentle powers of fascination to which they owe
their success.  Yet unless you can contrive to learn a little of
the language, you will be rather bored by your visits of ceremony;
the intervention of the interpreter, or dragoman as he is called,
is fatal to the spirit of conversation.  I think I should mislead
you if I were to attempt to give the substance of any particular
conversation with Orientals.  A traveller may write and say that
"the Pasha of So-and-so was particularly interested in the vast
progress which has been made in the application of steam, and
appeared to understand the structure of our machinery--that he
remarked upon the gigantic results of our manufacturing industry--
showed that he possessed considerable knowledge of our Indian
affairs, and of the constitution of the Company, and expressed a
lively admiration of the many sterling qualities for which the
people of England are distinguished."  But the heap of commonplaces
thus quietly attributed to the Pasha will have been founded perhaps
on some such talking as this:-

Pasha.--The Englishman is welcome; most blessed among hours is
this, the hour of his coming.

Dragoman (to the traveller).--The Pasha pays you his compliments.

Traveller.--Give him my best compliments in return, and say I'm
delighted to have the honour of seeing him.

Dragoman (to the Pasha).--His lordship, this Englishman, Lord of
London, Scorner of Ireland, Suppressor of France, has quitted his
governments, and left his enemies to breathe for a moment, and has
crossed the broad waters in strict disguise, with a small but
eternally faithful retinue of followers, in order that he might
look upon the bright countenance of the Pasha among Pashas--the
Pasha of the everlasting Pashalik of Karagholookoldour.

Traveller (to his dragoman).--What on earth have you been saying
about London?  The Pasha will be taking me for a mere cockney.
Have not I told you ALWAYS to say that I am from a branch of the
family of Mudcombe Park, and that I am to be a magistrate for the
county of Bedfordshire, only I've not qualified, and that I should
have been a deputy-lieutenant if it had not been for the
extraordinary conduct of Lord Mountpromise, and that I was a
candidate for Goldborough at the last election, and that I should
have won easy if my committee had not been bought.  I wish to
Heaven that if you DO say anything about me, you'd tell the simple
truth.

Dragoman [is silent].

Pasha.--What says the friendly Lord of London? is there aught that
I can grant him within the Pashalik of Karagholookoldour?

Dragoman (growing, sulky and literal).--This friendly Englishman--
this branch of Mudcombe--this head-purveyor of Goldborough--this
possible policeman of Bedfordshire, is recounting his achievements,
and the number of his titles.

Pasha.--The end of his honours is more distant than the ends of the
earth, and the catalogue of his glorious deeds is brighter than the
firmament of heaven!

Dragoman (to the traveller).--The Pasha congratulates your
Excellency.

Traveller.--About Goldborough?  The deuce he does!--but I want to
get at his views in relation to the present state of the Ottoman
Empire.  Tell him the Houses of Parliament have met, and that there
has been a speech from the throne, pledging England to preserve the
integrity of the Sultan's dominions.

Dragoman (to the Pasha).--This branch of Mudcombe, this possible
policeman of Bedfordshire, informs your Highness that in England
the talking houses have met, and that the integrity of the Sultan's
dominions has been assured for ever and ever by a speech from the
velvet chair.

Pasha.--Wonderful chair!  Wonderful houses!--whirr! whirr! all by
wheels!--whiz! whiz! all by steam!--wonderful chair! wonderful
houses! wonderful people!--whirr! whirr! all by wheels!--whiz!
whiz! all by steam!

Traveller (to the dragoman).--What does the Pasha mean by that
whizzing? he does not mean to say, does he, that our Government
will ever abandon their pledges to the Sultan?

Dragoman.--No, your Excellency; but he says the English talk by
wheels, and by steam.

Traveller.--That's an exaggeration; but say that the English really
have carried machinery to great perfection; tell the Pasha (he'll
be struck with that) that whenever we have any disturbances to put
down, even at two or three hundred miles from London, we can send
troops by the thousand to the scene of action in a few hours.

Dragoman (recovering his temper and freedom of speech).--His
Excellency, this Lord of Mudcombe, observes to your Highness, that
whenever the Irish, or the French, or the Indians rebel against the
English, whole armies of soldiers, and brigades of artillery, are
dropped into a mighty chasm called Euston Square, and in the biting
of a cartridge they arise up again in Manchester, or Dublin, or
Paris, or Delhi, and utterly exterminate the enemies of England
from the face of the earth.

Pasha.--I know it--I know all--the particulars have been faithfully
related to me, and my mind comprehends locomotives.  The armies of
the English ride upon the vapours of boiling caldrons, and their
horses are flaming coals!--whirr! whirr! all by wheels!--whiz!
whiz! all by steam!

Traveller (to his dragoman).--I wish to have the opinion of an
unprejudiced Ottoman gentleman as to the prospects of our English
commerce and manufactures; just ask the Pasha to give me his views
on the subject.

Pasha (after having received the communication of the dragoman).--
The ships of the English swarm like flies; their printed calicoes
cover the whole earth; and by the side of their swords the blades
of Damascus are blades of grass.  All India is but an item in the
ledger-books of the merchants, whose lumber-rooms are filled with
ancient thrones!--whirr! whirr! all by wheels!--whiz! whiz! all by
steam.

Dragoman.--The Pasha compliments the cutlery of England, and also
the East India Company.

Traveller.--The Pasha's right about the cutlery (I tried my
scimitar with the common officers' swords belonging to our fellows
at Malta, and they cut it like the leaf of a novel).  Well (to the
dragoman), tell the Pasha I am exceedingly gratified to find that
he entertains such a high opinion of our manufacturing energy, but
I should like him to know, though, that we have got something in
England besides that.  These foreigners are always fancying that we
have nothing but ships, and railways, and East India Companies; do
just tell the Pasha that our rural districts deserve his attention,
and that even within the last two hundred years there has been an
evident improvement in the culture of the turnip, and if he does
not take any interest about that, at all events you can explain
that we have our virtues in the country--that we are a truth-
telling people, and, like the Osmanlees, are faithful in the
performance of our promises.  Oh! and, by-the-bye, whilst you are
about it, you may as well just say at the end that the British
yeoman is still, thank God! the British yeoman.

Pasha (after hearing the dragoman).--It is true, it is true: --
through all Feringhistan the English are foremost and best; for the
Russians are drilled swine, and the Germans are sleeping babes, and
the Italians are the servants of songs, and the French are the sons
of newspapers, and the Greeks they are weavers of lies, but the
English and the Osmanlees are brothers together in righteousness;
for the Osmanlees believe in one only God, and cleave to the Koran,
and destroy idols, so do the English worship one God, and abominate
graven images, and tell the truth, and believe in a book, and
though they drink the juice of the grape, yet to say that they
worship their prophet as God, or to say that they are eaters of
pork, these are lies--lies born of Greeks, and nursed by Jews!

Dragoman.--The Pasha compliments the English.

Traveller (rising).--Well, I've had enough of this.  Tell the Pasha
I am greatly obliged to him for his hospitality, and still more for
his kindness in furnishing me with horses, and say that now I must
be off.

Pasha (after hearing the dragoman, and standing up on his divan).
{3}--Proud are the sires, and blessed are the dams of the horses
that shall carry his Excellency to the end of his prosperous
journey.  May the saddle beneath him glide down to the gates of the
happy city, like a boat swimming on the third river of Paradise.
May he sleep the sleep of a child, when his friends are around him;
and the while that his enemies are abroad, may his eyes flame red
through the darkness--more red than the eyes of ten tigers!
Farewell!

Dragoman.--The Pasha wishes your Excellency a pleasant journey.

So ends the visit.



CHAPTER II--TURKISH TRAVELLING



In two or three hours our party was ready; the servants, the Tatar,
the mounted Suridgees, and the baggage-horses, altogether made up a
strong cavalcade.  The accomplished Mysseri, of whom you have heard
me speak so often, and who served me so faithfully throughout my
Oriental journeys, acted as our interpreter, and was, in fact, the
brain of our corps.  The Tatar, you know, is a government courier
properly employed in carrying despatches, but also sent with
travellers to speed them on their way, and answer with his head for
their safety.  The man whose head was thus pledged for our precious
lives was a glorious-looking fellow, with the regular and handsome
cast of countenance which is now characteristic of the Ottoman
race. {4}  His features displayed a good deal of serene pride,
self-respect, fortitude, a kind of ingenuous sensuality, and
something of instinctive wisdom, without any sharpness of
intellect.  He had been a Janissary (as I afterwards found), and
kept up the odd strut of his old corps, which used to affright the
Christians in former times--that rolling gait so comically pompous,
that a close imitation of it, even in the broadest farce, would be
looked upon as a very rough over-acting of the character.  It is
occasioned in part by dress and accoutrements.  The weighty bundle
of weapons carried upon the chest throws back the body so as to
give it a wonderful portliness, and moreover, the immense masses of
clothes that swathe his limbs force the wearer in walking to swing
himself heavily round from left to right, and from right to left.
In truth, this great edifice of woollen, and cotton, and silk, and
silver, and brass, and steel is not at all fitted for moving on
foot; it cannot even walk without frightfully discomposing its fair
proportions; and as to running--our Tatar ran ONCE (it was in order
to pick up a partridge that Methley had winged with a pistol-shot),
and really the attempt was one of the funniest misdirections of
human energy that wondering man ever saw.  But put him in his
stirrups, and then is the Tatar himself again:  there he lives at
his pleasure, reposing in the tranquillity of that true home (the
home of his ancestors) which the saddle seems to afford him, and
drawing from his pipe the calm pleasures of his "own fireside," or
else dashing sudden over the earth, as though for a moment he felt
the mouth of a Turcoman steed, and saw his own Scythian plains
lying boundless and open before him.

It was not till his subordinates had nearly completed their
preparations for their march that our Tatar, "commanding the
forces," arrived; he came sleek and fresh from the bath (for so is
the custom of the Ottomans when they start upon a journey), and was
carefully accoutred at every point.  From his thigh to his throat
he was loaded with arms and other implements of a campaigning life.
There is no scarcity of water along the whole road from Belgrade to
Stamboul, but the habits of our Tatar were formed by his ancestors
and not by himself, so he took good care to see that his leathern
water-flask was amply charged and properly strapped to the saddle,
along with his blessed tchibouque.  And now at last he has cursed
the Suridgees in all proper figures of speech, and is ready for a
ride of a thousand miles; but before he comforts his soul in the
marble baths of Stamboul he will be another and a lesser man; his
sense of responsibility, his too strict abstemiousness, and his
restless energy, disdainful of sleep, will have worn him down to a
fraction of the sleek Moostapha that now leads out our party from
the gates of Belgrade.

The Suridgees are the men employed to lead the baggage-horses.
They are most of them gipsies.  Their lot is a sad one:  they are
the last of the human race, and all the sins of their superiors
(including the horses) can safely be visited on them.  But the
wretched look often more picturesque than their betters; and though
all the world despise these poor Suridgees, their tawny skins and
their grisly beards will gain them honourable standing in the
foreground of a landscape.  We had a couple of these fellows with
us, each leading a baggage-horse, to the tail of which last another
baggage-horse was attached.  There was a world of trouble in
persuading the stiff angular portmanteaus of Europe to adapt
themselves to their new condition and sit quietly on pack-saddles,
but all was right at last, and it gladdened my eyes to see our
little troop file off through the winding lanes of the city, and
show down brightly in the plain beneath.  The one of our party that
seemed to be most out of keeping with the rest of the scene was
Methley's Yorkshire servant, who always rode doggedly on in his
pantry jacket, looking out for "gentlemen's seats."

Methley and I had English saddles, but I think we should have done
just as well (I should certainly have seen more of the country) if
we had adopted saddles like that of our Tatar, who towered so
loftily over the scraggy little beast that carried him.  In taking
thought for the East, whilst in England, I had made one capital hit
which you must not forget--I had brought with me a pair of common
spurs.  These were a great comfort to me throughout my horseback
travels, by keeping up the cheerfulness of the many unhappy nags
that I had to bestride; the angle of the Oriental stirrup is a very
poor substitute for spurs.

The Ottoman horseman, raised by his saddle to a great height above
the humble level of the back that he bestrides, and using an
awfully sharp bit, is able to lift the crest of his nag, and force
him into a strangely fast shuffling walk, the orthodox pace for the
journey.  My comrade and I, using English saddles, could not easily
keep our beasts up to this peculiar amble; besides, we thought it a
bore to be FOLLOWED by our attendants for a thousand miles, and we
generally, therefore, did duty as the rearguard of our "grand
army"; we used to walk our horses till the party in front had got
into the distance, and then retrieve the lost ground by a gallop.

We had ridden on for some two or three hours; the stir and bustle
of our commencing journey had ceased, the liveliness of our little
troop had worn off with the declining day, and the night closed in
as we entered the great Servian forest.  Through this our road was
to last for more than a hundred miles.  Endless, and endless now on
either side, the tall oaks closed in their ranks and stood gloomily
lowering over us, as grim as an army of giants with a thousand
years' pay in arrear.  One strived with listening ear to catch some
tidings of that forest world within--some stirring of beasts, some
night-bird's scream, but all was quite hushed, except the voice of
the cicalas that peopled every bough, and filled the depths of the
forest through and through, with one same hum everlasting--more
stifling than very silence.

At first our way was in darkness, but after a while the moon got
up, and touched the glittering arms and tawny faces of our men with
light so pale and mystic, that the watchful Tatar felt bound to
look out for demons, and take proper means for keeping them off:
forthwith he determined that the duty of frightening away our
ghostly enemies (like every other troublesome work) should fall
upon the poor Suridgees, who accordingly lifted up their voices,
and burst upon the dreadful stillness of the forest with shrieks
and dismal howls.  These precautions were kept up incessantly, and
were followed by the most complete success, for not one demon came
near us.

Long before midnight we reached the hamlet in which we were to rest
for the night; it was made up of about a dozen clay huts, standing
upon a small tract of ground hardly won from the forest.  The
peasants that lived there spoke a Slavonic dialect, and Mysseri's
knowledge of the Russian tongue enabled him to talk with them
freely.  We took up our quarters in a square room with white walls
and an earthen floor, quite bare of furniture, and utterly void of
women.  They told us, however, that these Servian villagers lived
in happy abundance, but that they were careful to conceal their
riches, as well as their wives.

The burthens unstrapped from the pack-saddles very quickly
furnished our den:  a couple of quilts spread upon the floor, with
a carpet-bag at the head of each, became capital sofas--
portmanteaus, and hat-boxes, and writing-cases, and books, and
maps, and gleaming arms soon lay strewed around us in pleasant
confusion.  Mysseri's canteen too began to yield up its treasures,
but we relied upon finding some provisions in the village.  At
first the natives declared that their hens were mere old maids and
all their cows unmarried, but our Tatar swore such a grand sonorous
oath, and fingered the hilt of his yataghan with such persuasive
touch, that the land soon flowed with milk, and mountains of eggs
arose.

And soon there was tea before us, with all its unspeakable
fragrance, and as we reclined on the floor, we found that a
portmanteau was just the right height for a table; the duty of
candlesticks was ably performed by a couple of intelligent natives;
the rest of the villagers stood by the open doorway at the lower
end of the room, and watched our banqueting with grave and devout
attention.

The first night of your first campaign (though you be but a mere
peaceful campaigner) is a glorious time in your life.  It is so
sweet to find one's self free from the stale civilisation of
Europe!  Oh my dear ally, when first you spread your carpet in the
midst of these Eastern scenes, do think for a moment of those your
fellow-creatures, that dwell in squares, and streets, and even (for
such is the fate of many!) in actual country houses; think of the
people that are "presenting their compliments," and "requesting the
honour," and "much regretting,"--of those that are pinioned at
dinner-tables; or stuck up in ballrooms, or cruelly planted in
pews--ay, think of these, and so remembering how many poor devils
are living in a state of utter respectability, you will glory the
more in your own delightful escape.

I am bound to confess, however, that with all its charms a mud
floor (like a mercenary match) does certainly promote early rising.
Long before daybreak we were up, and had breakfasted; after this
there was nearly a whole tedious hour to endure whilst the horses
were laden by torch-light; but this had an end, and at last we went
on once more.  Cloaked, and sombre, at first we made our sullen way
through the darkness, with scarcely one barter of words, but soon
the genial morn burst down from heaven, and stirred the blood so
gladly through our veins, that the very Suridgees, with all their
troubles, could now look up for an instant, and almost seem to
believe in the temporary goodness of God.

The actual movement from one place to another, in Europeanised
countries, is a process so temporary--it occupies, I mean, so small
a proportion of the traveller's entire time--that his mind remains
unsettled, so long as the wheels are going; he may be alive enough
to external objects of interest, and to the crowding ideas which
are often invited by the excitement of a changing scene, but he is
still conscious of being in a provisional state, and his mind is
constantly recurring to the expected end of his journey; his
ordinary ways of thought have been interrupted, and before any new
mental habits can be formed he is quietly fixed in his hotel.  It
will be otherwise with you when you journey in the East.  Day after
day, perhaps week after week and month after month, your foot is in
the stirrup.  To taste the cold breath of the earliest morn, and to
lead, or follow, your bright cavalcade till sunset through forests
and mountain passes, through valleys and desolate plains, all this
becomes your MODE OF LIFE, and you ride, eat, drink, and curse the
mosquitoes as systematically as your friends in England eat, drink,
and sleep.  If you are wise, you will not look upon the long period
of time thus occupied in actual movement as the mere gulf dividing
you from the end of your journey, but rather as one of those rare
and plastic seasons of your life from which, perhaps, in after
times you may love to date the moulding of your character--that is,
your very identity.  Once feel this, and you will soon grow happy
and contented in your saddle-home.  As for me and my comrade,
however, in this part of our journey we often forgot Stamboul,
forgot all the Ottoman Empire, and only remembered old times.  We
went back, loitering on the banks of Thames--not grim old Thames of
"after life," that washes the Parliament Houses, and drowns
despairing girls--but Thames, the "old Eton fellow," that wrestled
with us in our boyhood till he taught us to be stronger than he.
We bullied Keate, and scoffed at Larrey Miller, and Okes; we rode
along loudly laughing, and talked to the grave Servian forest as
though it were the "Brocas clump."

Our pace was commonly very slow, for the baggage-horses served us
for a drag, and kept us to a rate of little more than five miles in
the hour, but now and then, and chiefly at night, a spirit of
movement would suddenly animate the whole party; the baggage-horses
would be teased into a gallop, and when once this was done, there
would be such a banging of portmanteaus, and such convulsions of
carpet-bags upon their panting sides, and the Suridgees would
follow them up with such a hurricane of blows, and screams, and
curses, that stopping or relaxing was scarcely possible; then the
rest of us would put our horses into a gallop, and so all shouting
cheerily, would hunt, and drive the sumpter beasts like a flock of
goats, up hill and down dale, right on to the end of their journey.

The distances at which we got relays of horses varied greatly; some
were not more than fifteen or twenty miles, but twice, I think, we
performed a whole day's journey of more than sixty miles with the
same beasts.

When at last we came out from the forest our road lay through
scenes like those of an English park.  The green sward unfenced,
and left to the free pasture of cattle, was dotted with groups of
stately trees, and here and there darkened over with larger masses
of wood, that seemed gathered together for bounding the domain, and
shutting out some "infernal" fellow-creature in the shape of a
newly made squire; in one or two spots the hanging copses looked
down upon a lawn below with such sheltering mien, that seeing the
like in England you would have been tempted almost to ask the name
of the spend-thrift, or the madman who had dared to pull down "the
old hall."

There are few countries less infested by "lions" than the provinces
on this part of your route.  You are not called upon to "drop a
tear" over the tomb of  "the once brilliant" anybody, or to pay
your "tribute of respect" to anything dead or alive.  There are no
Servian or Bulgarian litterateurs with whom it would be positively
disgraceful not to form an acquaintance; you have no staring, no
praising to get through; the only public building of any interest
that lies on the road is of modern date, but is said to be a good
specimen of Oriental architecture; it is of a pyramidical shape,
and is made up of thirty thousand skulls, contributed by the
rebellious Servians in the early part (I believe) of this century:
I am not at all sure of my date, but I fancy it was in the year
1806 that the first skull was laid.  I am ashamed to say that in
the darkness of the early morning we unknowingly went by the
neighbourhood of this triumph of art, and so basely got off from
admiring "the simple grandeur of the architect's conception," and
"the exquisite beauty of the fretwork."

There being no "lions," we ought at least to have met with a few
perils, but the only robbers we saw anything of had been long since
dead and gone.  The poor fellows had been impaled upon high poles,
and so propped up by the transverse spokes beneath them, that their
skeletons, clothed with some white, wax-like remains of flesh,
still sat up lolling in the sunshine, and listlessly stared without
eyes.

One day it seemed to me that our path was a little more rugged than
usual, and I found that I was deserving for myself the title of
Sabalkansky, or "Transcender of the Balcan."  The truth is, that,
as a military barrier, the Balcan is a fabulous mountain.  Such
seems to be the view of Major Keppell, who looked on it towards the
east with the eye of a soldier, and certainly in the Sophia Pass,
which I followed, there is no narrow defile, and no ascent
sufficiently difficult to stop, or delay for long time, a train of
siege artillery.

Before we reached Adrianople, Methley had been seized with we knew
not what ailment, and when we had taken up our quarters in the city
he was cast to the very earth by sickness.  Adrianople enjoyed an
English consul, and I felt sure that, in Eastern phrase, his house
would cease to be his house, and would become the house of my sick
comrade.  I should have judged rightly under ordinary
circumstances, but the levelling plague was abroad, and the dread
of it had dominion over the consular mind.  So now (whether dying
or not, one could hardly tell), upon a quilt stretched out along
the floor, there lay the best hope of an ancient line, without the
material aids to comfort of even the humblest sort, and (sad to
say) without the consolation of a friend, or even a comrade worth
having.  I have a notion that tenderness and pity are affections
occasioned in some measure by living within doors; certainly, at
the time I speak of, the open-air life which I have been leading,
or the wayfaring hardships of the journey, had so strangely blunted
me, that I felt intolerant of illness, and looked down upon my
companion as if the poor fellow in falling ill had betrayed a want
of spirit.  I entertained too a most absurd idea--an idea that his
illness was partly affected.  You see that I have made a
confession:  this I hope--that I may always hereafter look
charitably upon the hard, savage acts of peasants, and the
cruelties of a "brutal" soldiery.  God knows that I strived to melt
myself into common charity, and to put on a gentleness which I
could not feel, but this attempt did not cheat the keenness of the
sufferer; he could not have felt the less deserted because that I
was with him.

We called to aid a solemn Armenian (I think he was) half
soothsayer, half hakim, or doctor, who, all the while counting his
beads, fixed his eyes steadily upon the patient, and then suddenly
dealt him a violent blow on the chest.  Methley bravely dissembled
his pain, for he fancied that the blow was meant to try whether or
not the plague were on him.

Here was really a sad embarrassment--no bed; nothing to offer the
invalid in the shape of food save a piece of thin, tough, flexible,
drab-coloured cloth, made of flour and mill-stones in equal
proportions, and called by the name of "bread"; then the patient,
of course, had no "confidence in his medical man," and on the
whole, the best chance of saving my comrade seemed to lie in taking
him out of the reach of his doctor, and bearing him away to the
neighbourhood of some more genial consul.  But how was this to be
done?  Methley was much too ill to be kept in his saddle, and wheel
carriages, as means of travelling, were unknown.  There is,
however, such a thing as an "araba," a vehicle drawn by oxen, in
which the wives of a rich man are sometimes dragged four or five
miles over the grass by way of recreation.  The carriage is rudely
framed, but you recognise in the simple grandeur of its design a
likeness to things majestic; in short, if your carpenter's son were
to make a "Lord Mayor's coach" for little Amy, he would build a
carriage very much in the style of a Turkish araba.  No one had
ever heard of horses being used for drawing a carriage in this part
of the world, but necessity is the mother of innovation as well as
of invention.  I was fully justified, I think, in arguing that
there were numerous instances of horses being used for that purpose
in our own country--that the laws of nature are uniform in their
operation over all the world (except Ireland)--that that which was
true in Piccadilly, must be true in Adrianople--that the matter
could not fairly be treated as an ecclesiastical question, for that
the circumstance of Methley's going on to Stamboul in an araba
drawn by horses, when calmly and dispassionately considered, would
appear to be perfectly consistent with the maintenance of the
Mahometan religion as by law established.  Thus poor, dear, patient
Reason would have fought her slow battle against Asiatic prejudice,
and I am convinced that she would have established the possibility
(and perhaps even the propriety) of harnessing horses in a hundred
and fifty years; but in the meantime Mysseri, well seconded by our
Tatar, put a very quick end to the controversy by having the horses
put to.

It was a sore thing for me to see my poor comrade brought to this,
for young though he was, he was a veteran in travel.  When scarcely
yet of age he had invaded India from the frontiers of Russia, and
that so swiftly, that measuring by the time of his flight the broad
dominions of the king of kings were shrivelled up to a dukedom and
now, poor fellow, he was to be poked into an araba:  like a
Georgian girl!  He suffered greatly, for there were no springs for
the carriage, and no road for the wheels; and so the concern jolted
on over the open country with such twists, and jerks, and jumps, as
might almost dislocate the supple tongue of Satan.

All day the patient kept himself shut up within the lattice-work of
the araba, and I could hardly know how he was faring until the end
of the day's journey, when I found that he was not worse, and was
buoyed up with the hope of some day reaching Constantinople.

I was always conning over my maps, and fancied that I knew pretty
well my line, but after Adrianople I had made more southing than I
knew for, and it was with unbelieving wonder, and delight, that I
came suddenly upon the shore of the sea.  A little while, and its
gentle billows were flowing beneath the hoofs of my beast, but the
hearing of the ripple was not enough communion, and the seeing of
the blue Propontis was not to know and possess it--I must needs
plunge into its depth and quench my longing love in the palpable
waves; and so when old Moostapha (defender against demons) looked
round for his charge, he saw with horror and dismay that he for
whose life his own life stood pledged was possessed of some devil
who had driven him down into the sea--that the rider and the steed
had vanished from earth, and that out among the waves was the
gasping crest of a post-horse, and the ghostly head of the
Englishman moving upon the face of the waters.

We started very early indeed on the last day of our journey, and
from the moment of being off until we gained the shelter of the
imperial walls we were struggling face to face with an icy storm
that swept right down from the steppes of Tartary, keen, fierce,
and steady as a northern conqueror.  Methley's servant, who was the
greatest sufferer, kept his saddle until we reached Stamboul, but
was then found to be quite benumbed in limbs, and his brain was so
much affected, that when he was lifted from his horse he fell away
in a state of unconsciousness, the first stage of a dangerous
fever.

Our Tatar, worn down by care and toil, and carrying seven heavens
full of water in his manifold jackets and shawls, was a mere weak
and vapid dilution of the sleek Moostapha, who scarce more than one
fortnight before came out like a bridegroom from his chamber to
take the command of our party.

Mysseri seemed somewhat over-wearied, but he had lost none of his
strangely quiet energy.  He wore a grave look, however, for he now
had learnt that the plague was prevailing at Constantinople, and he
was fearing that our two sick men, and the miserable looks of our
whole party, might make us unwelcome at Pera.

We crossed the Golden Horn in a caique.  As soon as we had landed,
some woebegone looking fellows were got together and laden with our
baggage.  Then on we went, dripping, and sloshing, and looking very
like men that had been turned back by the Royal Humane Society as
being incurably drowned.  Supporting our sick, we climbed up
shelving steps and threaded many windings, and at last came up into
the main street of Pera, humbly hoping that we might not be judged
guilty of plague, and so be cast back with horror from the doors of
the shuddering Christians.

Such was the condition of our party, which fifteen days before had
filed away so gaily from the gates of Belgrade.  A couple of fevers
and a north-easterly storm had thoroughly spoiled our looks.

The interest of Mysseri with the house of Giuseppini was too
powerful to be denied, and at once, though not without fear and
trembling, we were admitted as guests.



CHAPTER III--CONSTANTINOPLE



Even if we don't take a part in the chant about "mosques and
minarets," we can still yield praises to Stamboul.  We can chant
about the harbour; we can say, and sing, that nowhere else does the
sea come so home to a city; there are no pebbly shores--no sand
bars--no slimy river-beds--no black canals--no locks nor docks to
divide the very heart of the place from the deep waters.  If being
in the noisiest mart of Stamboul you would stroll to the quiet side
of the way amidst those cypresses opposite, you will cross the
fathomless Bosphorus; if you would go from your hotel to the
bazaars, you must go by the bright, blue pathway of the Golden
Horn, that can carry a thousand sail of the line.  You are
accustomed to the gondolas that glide among the palaces of St.
Mark, but here at Stamboul it is a 120 gun ship that meets you in
the street.  Venice strains out from the steadfast land, and in old
times would send forth the chief of the State to woo and wed the
reluctant sea; but the stormy bride of the Doge is the bowing slave
of the Sultan.  She comes to his feet with the treasures of the
world--she bears him from palace to palace--by some unfailing
witchcraft she entices the breezes to follow her {5} and fan the
pale cheek of her lord--she lifts his armed navies to the very
gates of his garden--she watches the walls of his serai--she
stifles the intrigues of his ministers--she quiets the scandals of
his courts--she extinguishes his rivals, and hushes his naughty
wives all one by one.  So vast are the wonders of the deep!

All the while that I stayed at Constantinople the plague was
prevailing, but not with any degree of violence.  Its presence,
however, lent a mysterious and exciting, though not very pleasant,
interest to my first knowledge of a great Oriental city; it gave
tone and colour to all I saw, and all I felt--a tone and a colour
sombre enough, but true, and well befitting the dreary monuments of
past power and splendour.  With all that is most truly Oriental in
its character the plague is associated; it dwells with the faithful
in the holiest quarters of their city.  The coats and the hats of
Pera are held to be nearly as innocent of infection as they are
ugly in shape and fashion; but the rich furs and the costly shawls,
the broidered slippers and the gold-laden saddle-cloths, the
fragrance of burning aloes and the rich aroma of patchouli--these
are the signs that mark the familiar home of plague.  You go out
from your queenly London--the centre of the greatest and strongest
amongst all earthly dominions--you go out thence, and travel on to
the capital of an Eastern Prince, you find but a waning power, and
a faded splendour, that inclines you to laugh and mock; but let the
infernal Angel of Plague be at hand, and he, more mighty than
armies, more terrible than Suleyman in his glory, can restore such
pomp and majesty to the weakness of the Imperial city, that if,
WHEN HE IS THERE, you must still go prying amongst the shades of
this dead empire, at least you will tread the path with seemly
reverence and awe.

It is the firm faith of almost all the Europeans living in the East
that Plague is conveyed by the touch of infected substances, and
that the deadly atoms especially lurk in all kinds of clothes and
furs.  It is held safer to breathe the same air with a man sick of
the plague, and even to come in contact with his skin, than to be
touched by the smallest particle of woollen or of thread which may
have been within the reach of possible infection.  If this be a
right notion, the spread of the malady must be materially aided by
the observance of a custom prevailing amongst the people of
Stamboul.  It is this; when an Osmanlee dies, one of his dresses is
cut up, and a small piece of it is sent to each of his friends as a
memorial of the departed--a fatal present, according to the opinion
of the Franks, for it too often forces the living not merely to
remember the dead man, but to follow and bear him company.

The Europeans during the prevalence of the plague, if they are
forced to venture into the streets, will carefully avoid the touch
of every human being whom they pass.  Their conduct in this respect
shows them strongly in contrast with the "true believers":  the
Moslem stalks on serenely, as though he were under the eye of his
God, and were "equal to either fate"; the Franks go crouching and
slinking from death, and some (those chiefly of French extraction)
will fondly strive to fence out destiny with shining capes of
oilskin!

For some time you may manage by great care to thread your way
through the streets of Stamboul without incurring contact, for the
Turks, though scornful of the terrors felt by the Franks, are
generally very courteous in yielding to that which they hold to be
a useless and impious precaution, and will let you pass safe if
they can.  It is impossible, however, that your immunity can last
for any length of time if you move about much through the narrow
streets and lanes of a crowded city.

As for me, I soon got "compromised."  After one day of rest, the
prayers of my hostess began to lose their power of keeping me from
the pestilent side of the Golden Horn.  Faithfully promising to
shun the touch of all imaginable substances, however enticing, I
set off very cautiously, and held my way uncompromised till I
reached the water's edge; but before my caique was quite ready some
rueful-looking fellows came rapidly shambling down the steps with a
plague-stricken corpse, which they were going to bury amongst the
faithful on the other side of the water.  I contrived to be so much
in the way of this brisk funeral, that I was not only touched by
the men bearing the body, but also, I believe, by the foot of the
dead man, as it hung lolling out of the bier.  This accident gave
me such a strong interest in denying the soundness of the contagion
theory, that I did in fact deny and repudiate it altogether; and
from that time, acting upon my own convenient view of the matter, I
went wherever I chose, without taking any serious pains to avoid a
touch.  It seems to me now very likely that the Europeans are
right, and that the plague may be really conveyed by contagion; but
during the whole time of my remaining in the East, my views on this
subject more nearly approached to those of the fatalists; and so,
when afterwards the plague of Egypt came dealing his blows around
me, I was able to live amongst the dying without that alarm and
anxiety which would inevitably have pressed upon my mind if I had
allowed myself to believe that every passing touch was really a
probable death-stroke.

And perhaps as you make your difficult way through a steep and
narrow alley, shut in between blank walls, and little frequented by
passers, you meet one of those coffin-shaped bundles of white linen
that implies an Ottoman lady.  Painfully struggling against the
obstacles to progression interposed by the many folds of her clumsy
drapery, by her big mud-boots, and especially by her two pairs of
slippers, she works her way on full awkwardly enough, but yet there
is something of womanly consciousness in the very labour and effort
with which she tugs and lifts the burthen of her charms.  She is
closely followed by her women slaves.  Of her very self you see
nothing except the dark, luminous eyes that stare against your
face, and the tips of the painted fingers depending like rose-buds
from out of the blank bastions of the fortress.  She turns, and
turns again, and carefully glances around her on all sides, to see
that she is safe from the eyes of Mussulmans, and then suddenly
withdrawing the yashmak, {6} she shines upon your heart and soul
with all the pomp and might of her beauty.  And this, it is not the
light, changeful grace that leaves you to doubt whether you have
fallen in love with a body, or only a soul; it is the beauty that
dwells secure in the perfectness of hard, downright outlines, and
in the glow of generous colour.  There is fire, though, too--high
courage and fire enough in the untamed mind, or spirit, or whatever
it is, which drives the breath of pride through those scarcely
parted lips.

You smile at pretty women--you turn pale before the beauty that is
great enough to have dominion over you.  She sees, and exults in
your giddiness; she sees and smiles; then presently, with a sudden
movement, she lays her blushing fingers upon your arm, and cries
out, "Yumourdjak!" (Plague! meaning, "there is a present of the
plague for you!")  This is her notion of a witticism.  It is a very
old piece of fun, no doubt--quite an Oriental Joe Miller; but the
Turks are fondly attached, not only to the institutions, but also
to the jokes of their ancestors; so the lady's silvery laugh rings
joyously in your ears, and the mirth of her women is boisterous and
fresh, as though the bright idea of giving the plague to a
Christian had newly lit upon the earth.

Methley began to rally very soon after we had reached
Constantinople; but there seemed at first to be no chance of his
regaining strength enough for travelling during the winter, and I
determined to stay with my comrade until he had quite recovered; so
I bought me a horse, and a "pipe of tranquillity," {7} and took a
Turkish phrase-master.  I troubled myself a great deal with the
Turkish tongue, and gained at last some knowledge of its structure.
It is enriched, perhaps overladen, with Persian and Arabic words,
imported into the language chiefly for the purpose of representing
sentiments and religious dogmas, and terms of art and luxury,
entirely unknown to the Tartar ancestors of the present Osmanlees;
but the body and the spirit of the old tongue are yet alive, and
the smooth words of the shopkeeper at Constantinople can still
carry understanding to the ears of the untamed millions who rove
over the plains of Northern Asia.  The structure of the language,
especially in its more lengthy sentences, is very like to the
Latin:  the subject matters are slowly and patiently enumerated,
without disclosing the purpose of the speaker until he reaches the
end of his sentence, and then at last there comes the clenching
word, which gives a meaning and connection to all that has gone
before.  If you listen at all to speaking of this kind your
attention, rather than be suffered to flag, must grow more and more
lively as the phrase marches on.

The Osmanlees speak well.  In countries civilised according to the
European plan the work of trying to persuade tribunals is almost
all performed by a set of men, the great body of whom very seldom
do anything else; but in Turkey this division of labour has never
taken place, and every man is his own advocate.  The importance of
the rhetorical art is immense, for a bad speech may endanger the
property of the speaker, as well as the soles of his feet and the
free enjoyment of his throat.  So it results that most of the Turks
whom one sees have a lawyer-like habit of speaking connectedly, and
at length.  Even the treaties continually going on at the bazaar
for the buying and selling of the merest trifles are carried on by
speechifying rather than by mere colloquies, and the eternal
uncertainty as to the market value of things in constant sale gives
room enough for discussion.  The seller is for ever demanding a
price immensely beyond that for which he sells at last, and so
occasions unspeakable disgust in many Englishmen, who cannot see
why an honest dealer should ask more for his goods than he will
really take!  The truth is, however, that an ordinary tradesman of
Constantinople has no other way of finding out the fair market
value of his property.  The difficulty under which he labours is
easily shown by comparing the mechanism of the commercial system in
Turkey with that of our own country.  In England, or in any other
great mercantile country, the bulk of the things bought and sold
goes through the hands of a wholesale dealer, and it is he who
higgles and bargains with an entire nation of purchasers by
entering into treaty with retail sellers.  The labour of making a
few large contracts is sufficient to give a clue for finding the
fair market value of the goods sold throughout the country; but in
Turkey, from the primitive habits of the people, and partly from
the absence of great capital and great credit, the importing
merchant, the warehouseman, the wholesale dealer, the retail
dealer, and the shopman, are all one person.  Old Moostapha, or
Abdallah, or Hadgi Mohamed waddles up from the water's edge with a
small packet of merchandise, which he has bought out of a Greek
brigantine, and when at last he has reached his nook in the bazaar
he puts his goods BEFORE the counter, and himself UPON it; then
laying fire to his tchibouque he "sits in permanence," and
patiently waits to obtain "the best price that can be got in an
open market."  This is his fair right as a seller, but he has no
means of finding out what that best price is except by actual
experiment.  He cannot know the intensity of the demand, or the
abundance of the supply, otherwise than by the offers which may be
made for his little bundle of goods; so he begins by asking a
perfectly hopeless price, and then descends the ladder until he
meets a purchaser, for ever


"Striving to attain
By shadowing out the unattainable."


This is the struggle which creates the continual occasion for
debate.  The vendor, perceiving that the unfolded merchandise has
caught the eye of a possible purchaser, commences his opening
speech.  He covers his bristling broadcloths and his meagre silks
with the golden broidery of Oriental praises, and as he talks,
along with the slow and graceful waving of his arms, he lifts his
undulating periods, upholds and poises them well, till they have
gathered their weight and their strength, and then hurls them
bodily forward with grave, momentous swing.  The possible purchaser
listens to the whole speech with deep and serious attention; but
when it is over HIS turn arrives.  He elaborately endeavours to
show why he ought not to buy the things at a price twenty times
larger than their value.  Bystanders attracted to the debate take a
part in it as independent members; the vendor is heard in reply,
and coming down with his price, furnishes the materials for a new
debate.  Sometimes, however, the dealer, if he is a very pious
Mussulman, and sufficiently rich to hold back his ware, will take a
more dignified part, maintaining a kind of judicial gravity, and
receiving the applicants who come to his stall as if they were
rather suitors than customers.  He will quietly hear to the end
some long speech that concludes with an offer, and will answer it
all with the one monosyllable "Yok," which means distinctly "No."

I caught one glimpse of the old heathen world.  My habits for
studying military subjects had been hardening my heart against
poetry; for ever staring at the flames of battle, I had blinded
myself to the lesser and finer lights that are shed from the
imaginations of men.  In my reading at this time I delighted to
follow from out of Arabian sands the feet of the armed believers,
and to stand in the broad, manifest storm-track of Tartar
devastation; and thus, though surrounded at Constantinople by
scenes of much interest to the "classical scholar," I had cast
aside their associations like an old Greek grammar, and turned my
face to the "shining Orient," forgetful of old Greece and all the
pure wealth she left to this matter-of-fact-ridden world.  But it
happened to me one day to mount the high grounds overhanging the
streets of Pera.  I sated my eyes with the pomps of the city and
its crowded waters, and then I looked over where Scutari lay half
veiled in her mournful cypresses.  I looked yet farther and higher,
and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that stood fast and still
against the breeze:  it was pure and dazzling white, as might be
the veil of Cytherea, yet touched with such fire, as though from
beneath the loving eyes of an immortal were shining through and
through.  I knew the bearing, but had enormously misjudged its
distance and underrated its height, and so it was as a sign and a
testimony, almost as a call from the neglected gods, and now I saw
and acknowledged the snowy crown of the Mysian Olympus!



CHAPTER IV--THE TROAD



Methley recovered almost suddenly, and we determined to go through
the Troad together.

My comrade was a capital Grecian.  It is true that his singular
mind so ordered and disposed his classic lore as to impress it with
something of an original and barbarous character--with an almost
Gothic quaintness, more properly belonging to a rich native ballad
than to the poetry of Hellas.  There was a certain impropriety in
his knowing so much Greek--an unfitness in the idea of marble
fauns, and satyrs, and even Olympian gods, lugged in under the
oaken roof and the painted light of an odd, old Norman hall.  But
Methley, abounding in Homer, really loved him (as I believe) in all
truth, without whim or fancy; moreover, he had a good deal of the
practical sagacity


"Of a Yorkshireman hippodamoio,"


and this enabled him to apply his knowledge with much more tact
than is usually shown by people so learned as he.

I, too, loved Homer, but not with a scholar's love.  The most
humble and pious among women was yet so proud a mother that she
could teach her firstborn son no Watts' hymns, no collects for the
day; she could teach him in earliest childhood no less than this,
to find a home in his saddle, and to love old Homer, and all that
old Homer sung.  True it is, that the Greek was ingeniously
rendered into English, the English of Pope even, but not even a
mesh like that can screen an earnest child from the fire of Homer's
battles.

I pored over the Odyssey as over a story-book, hoping and fearing
for the hero whom yet I partly scorned.  But the Iliad--line by
line I clasped it to my brain with reverence as well as with love.
As an old woman deeply trustful sits reading her Bible because of
the world to come, so, as though it would fit me for the coming
strife of this temporal world, I read and read the Iliad.  Even
outwardly, it was not like other books; it was throned in towering
folios.  There was a preface or dissertation printed in type still
more majestic than the rest of the book; this I read, but not till
my enthusiasm for the Iliad had already run high.  The writer
compiling the opinions of many men, and chiefly of the ancients,
set forth, I know not how quaintly, that the Iliad was all in all
to the human race--that it was history, poetry, revelation; that
the works of men's hands were folly and vanity, and would pass away
like the dreams of a child, but that the kingdom of Homer would
endure for ever and ever.

I assented with all my soul.  I read, and still read; I came to
know Homer.  A learned commentator knows something of the Greeks,
in the same sense as an oil-and-colour man may be said to know
something of painting; but take an untamed child, and leave him
alone for twelve months with any translation of Homer, and he will
be nearer by twenty centuries to the spirit of old Greece; HE does
not stop in the ninth year of the siege to admire this or that
group of words; HE has no books in his tent, but he shares in vital
counsels with the "king of men," and knows the inmost souls of the
impending gods; how profanely he exults over the powers divine when
they are taught to dread the prowess of mortals! and most of all,
how he rejoices when the God of War flies howling from the spear of
Diomed, and mounts into heaven for safety!  Then the beautiful
episode of the Sixth Book:  the way to feel this is not to go
casting about, and learning from pastors and masters how best to
admire it.  The impatient child is not grubbing for beauties, but
pushing the siege; the women vex him with their delays, and their
talking; the mention of the nurse is personal, and little sympathy
has he for the child that is young enough to be frightened at the
nodding plume of a helmet; but all the while that he thus chafes at
the pausing of the action, the strong vertical light of Homer's
poetry is blazing so full upon the people and things of the Iliad,
that soon to the eyes of the child they grow familiar as his
mother's shawl; yet of this great gain he is unconscious, and on he
goes, vengefully thirsting for the best blood of Troy, and never
remitting his fierceness till almost suddenly it is changed for
sorrow--the new and generous sorrow that he learns to feel when the
noblest of all his foes lies sadly dying at the Scaean gate.

Heroic days are these, but the dark ages of schoolboy life come
closing over them.  I suppose it is all right in the end, yet, by
Jove, at first sight it does seem a sad intellectual fall from your
mother's dressing-room to a buzzing school.  You feel so keenly the
delights of early knowledge; you form strange mystic friendships
with the mere names of mountains, and seas, and continents, and
mighty rivers; you learn the ways of the planets, and transcend
their narrow limits, and ask for the end of space; you vex the
electric cylinder till it yields you, for your toy to play with,
that subtle fire in which our earth was forged; you know of the
nations that have towered high in the world, and the lives of the
men who have saved whole empires from oblivion.  What more will you
ever learn?  Yet the dismal change is ordained, and then, thin
meagre Latin (the same for everybody), with small shreds and
patches of Greek, is thrown like a pauper's pall over all your
early lore.  Instead of sweet knowledge, vile, monkish, doggerel
grammars and graduses, dictionaries and lexicons, and horrible odds
and ends of dead languages, are given you for your portion, and
down you fall, from Roman story to a three-inch scrap of
"Scriptores Romani,"--from Greek poetry down, down to the cold
rations of "Poetae Graeci," cut up by commentators, and served out
by schoolmasters!

It was not the recollection of school nor college learning, but the
rapturous and earnest reading of my childhood, which made me bend
forward so longingly to the plains of Troy.

Away from our people and our horses, Methley and I went loitering
along by the willow banks of a stream that crept in quietness
through the low, even plain.  There was no stir of weather
overhead, no sound of rural labour, no sign of life in the land;
but all the earth was dead and still, as though it had lain for
thrice a thousand years under the leaden gloom of one unbroken
Sabbath.

Softly and sadly the poor, dumb, patient stream went winding and
winding along through its shifting pathway; in some places its
waters were parted, and then again, lower down, they would meet
once more.  I could see that the stream from year to year was
finding itself new channels, and flowed no longer in its ancient
track, but I knew that the springs which fed it were high on Ida--
the springs of Simois and Scamander!

It was coldly and thanklessly, and with vacant, unsatisfied eyes
that I watched the slow coming and the gliding away of the waters.
I tell myself now, as a profane fact, that I did stand by that
river (Methley gathered some seeds from the bushes that grew
there), but since that I am away from his banks, "divine Scamander"
has recovered the proper mystery belonging to him as an unseen
deity; a kind of indistinctness, like that which belongs to far
antiquity, has spread itself over my memory, of the winding stream
that I saw with these very eyes.  One's mind regains in absence
that dominion over earthly things which has been shaken by their
rude contact.  You force yourself hardily into the material
presence of a mountain, or a river, whose name belongs to poetry
and ancient religion, rather than to the external world; your
feelings wound up and kept ready for some sort of half-expected
rapture are chilled, and borne down for the time under all this
load of real earth and water; but let these once pass out of sight,
and then again the old fanciful notions are restored, and the mere
realities which you have just been looking at are thrown back so
far into distance, that the very event of your intrusion upon such
scenes begins to look dim and uncertain, as though it belonged to
mythology.

It is not over the plain before Troy that the river now flows; its
waters have edged away far towards the north, since the day that
"divine Scamander" (whom the gods call Xanthus) went down to do
battle for Ilion, "with Mars, and Phoebus, and Latona, and Diana
glorying in her arrows, and Venus the lover of smiles."

And now, when I was vexed at the migration of Scamander, and the
total loss or absorption of poor dear Simois, how happily Methley
reminded me that Homer himself had warned us of some such changes!
The Greeks in beginning their wall had neglected the hecatombs due
to the gods, and so after the fall of Troy Apollo turned the paths
of the rivers that flow from Ida and sent them flooding over the
wall, till all the beach was smooth and free from the unhallowed
works of the Greeks.  It is true I see now, on looking to the
passage, that Neptune, when the work of destruction was done,
turned back the rivers to their ancient ways:


" . . . [Greek verse],"


but their old channels passing through that light pervious soil
would have been lost in the nine days' flood, and perhaps the god,
when he willed to bring back the rivers to their ancient beds, may
have done his work but ill:  it is easier, they say, to destroy
than it is to restore.

We took to our horses again, and went southward towards the very
plain between Troy and the tents of the Greeks, but we rode by a
line at some distance from the shore.  Whether it was that the lay
of the ground hindered my view towards the sea, or that I was all
intent upon Ida, or whether my mind was in vacancy, or whether, as
is most like, I had strayed from the Dardan plains all back to
gentle England, there is now no knowing, nor caring, but it was not
quite suddenly indeed, but rather, as it were, in the swelling and
falling of a single wave, that the reality of that very sea-view,
which had bounded the sight of the Greeks, now visibly acceded to
me, and rolled full in upon my brain.  Conceive how deeply that
eternal coast-line, that fixed horizon, those island rocks, must
have graven their images upon the minds of the Grecian warriors by
the time that they had reached the ninth year of the siege!
conceive the strength, and the fanciful beauty, of the speeches
with which a whole army of imagining men must have told their
weariness, and how the sauntering chiefs must have whelmed that
daily, daily scene with their deep Ionian curses!

And now it was that my eyes were greeted with a delightful
surprise.  Whilst we were at Constantinople, Methley and I had
pored over the map together.  We agreed that whatever may have been
the exact site of Troy, the Grecian camp must have been nearly
opposite to the space betwixt the islands of Imbros and Tenedos,


"[Greek verse],"


but Methley reminded me of a passage in the Iliad in which Neptune
is represented as looking at the scene of action before Ilion from
above the island of Samothrace.  Now Samothrace, according to the
map, appeared to be not only out of all seeing distance from the
Troad, but to be entirely shut out from it by the intervening
Imbros, which is a larger island, stretching its length right
athwart the line of sight from Samothrace to Troy.  Piously
allowing that the dread Commoter of our globe might have seen all
mortal doings, even from the depth of his own cerulean kingdom, I
still felt that if a station were to be chosen from which to see
the fight, old Homer, so material in his ways of thought, so averse
from all haziness and overreaching, would have MEANT to give the
god for his station some spot within reach of men's eyes from the
plains of Troy.  I think that this testing of the poet's words by
map and compass may have shaken a little of my faith in the
completeness of his knowledge.  Well, now I had come; there to the
south was Tenedos, and here at my side was Imbros, all right, and
according to the map, but aloft over Imbros, aloft in a far-away
heaven, was Samothrace, the watch-tower of Neptune!

So Homer had appointed it, and so it was; the map was correct
enough, but could not, like Homer, convey THE WHOLE TRUTH.  Thus
vain and false are the mere human surmises and doubts which clash
with Homeric writ!

Nobody whose mind had not been reduced to the most deplorable
logical condition could look upon this beautiful congruity betwixt
the Iliad and the material world and yet bear to suppose that the
poet may have learned the features of the coast from mere hearsay;
now then, I believed; now I knew that Homer had PASSED ALONG HERE,
that this vision of Samothrace over-towering the nearer island was
common to him and to me.

After a journey of some few days by the route of Adramiti and
Pergamo we reached Smyrna.  The letters which Methley here received
obliged him to return to England.



CHAPTER V--INFIDEL SMYRNA



Smyrna, or Giaour Izmir, "Infidel Smyrna," as the Mussulmans call
it, is the main point of commercial contact betwixt Europe and
Asia.  You are there surrounded by the people, and the confused
customs of many and various nations; you see the fussy European
adopting the East, and calming his restlessness with the long
Turkish "pipe of tranquillity"; you see Jews offering services, and
receiving blows; {8} on one side you have a fellow whose dress and
beard would give you a good idea of the true Oriental, if it were
not for the gobe-mouche expression of countenance with which he is
swallowing an article in the National; and there, just by, is a
genuine Osmanlee, smoking away with all the majesty of a sultan,
but before you have time to admire sufficiently his tranquil
dignity, and his soft Asiatic repose, the poor old fellow is
ruthlessly "run down" by an English midshipman, who has set sail on
a Smyrna hack.  Such are the incongruities of the "infidel city" at
ordinary times; but when I was there, our friend Carrigaholt had
imported himself and his oddities as an accession to the other and
inferior wonders of Smyrna.

I was sitting alone in my room one day at Constantinople, when I
heard Methley approaching my door with shouts of laughter and
welcome, and presently I recognised that peculiar cry by which our
friend Carrigaholt expresses his emotions; he soon explained to us
the final causes by which the fates had worked out their wonderful
purpose of bringing him to Constantinople.  He was always, you
know, very fond of sailing, but he had got into such sad scrapes
(including, I think, a lawsuit) on account of his last yacht, that
he took it into his head to have a cruise in a merchant vessel, so
he went to Liverpool, and looked through the craft lying ready to
sail, till he found a smart schooner that perfectly suited his
taste.  The destination of the vessel was the last thing he thought
of; and when he was told that she was bound for Constantinople, he
merely assented to that as a part of the arrangement to which he
had no objection.  As soon as the vessel had sailed, the hapless
passenger discovered that his skipper carried on board an enormous
wife, with an inquiring mind and an irresistible tendency to impart
her opinions.  She looked upon her guest as upon a piece of waste
intellect that ought to be carefully tilled.  She tilled him
accordingly.  If the dons at Oxford could have seen poor
Carrigaholt thus absolutely "attending lectures" in the Bay of
Biscay, they would surely have thought him sufficiently punished
for all the wrongs he did them whilst he was preparing himself
under their care for the other and more boisterous University.  The
voyage did not last more than six or eight weeks, and the
philosophy inflicted on Carrigaholt was not entirely fatal to him;
certainly he was somewhat emaciated, and for aught I know, he may
have subscribed somewhat too largely to the "Feminine-right-of-
reason Society"; but it did not appear that his health had been
seriously affected.  There was a scheme on foot, it would seem, for
taking the passenger back to England in the same schooner--a
scheme, in fact, for keeping him perpetually afloat, and
perpetually saturated with arguments; but when Carrigaholt found
himself ashore, and remembered that the skipperina (who had
imprudently remained on board) was not there to enforce her
suggestions, he was open to the hints of his servant (a very sharp
fellow), who arranged a plan for escaping, and finally brought off
his master to Giuseppini's Hotel.

Our friend afterwards went by sea to Smyrna, and there he now was
in his glory.  He had a good, or at all events a gentleman-like,
judgment in matters of taste, and as his great object was to
surround himself with all that his fancy could dictate, he lived in
a state of perpetual negotiation.  He was for ever on the point of
purchasing, not only the material productions of the place, but all
sorts of such fine ware as "intelligence," "fidelity," and so on.
He was most curious, however, as the purchaser of the "affections."
Sometimes he would imagine that he had a marital aptitude, and his
fancy would sketch a graceful picture, in which he appeared
reclining on a divan, with a beautiful Greek woman fondly couched
at his feet, and soothing him with the witchery of her guitar.
Having satisfied himself with the ideal picture thus created, he
would pass into action; the guitar he would buy instantly, and
would give such intimations of his wish to be wedded to a Greek, as
could not fail to produce great excitement in the families, of the
beautiful Smyrniotes.  Then again (and just in time perhaps to save
him from the yoke) his dream would pass away, and another would
come in its stead; he would suddenly feel the yearnings of a
father's love, and willing by force of gold to transcend all
natural preliminaries, he would issue instructions for the purchase
of some dutiful child that could be warranted to love him as a
parent.  Then at another time he would be convinced that the
attachment of menials might satisfy the longings of his
affectionate heart, and thereupon he would give orders to his
slave-merchant for something in the way of eternal fidelity.  You
may well imagine that this anxiety of Carrigaholt to purchase not
only the scenery, but the many dramatis personae belonging to his
dreams, with all their goodness and graces complete, necessarily
gave an immense stimulus to the trade and intrigue of Smyrna, and
created a demand for human virtues which the moral resources of the
place were totally inadequate to supply.  Every day after breakfast
this lover of the good and the beautiful held a levee, which was
often exceedingly amusing.  In his anteroom there would be not only
the sellers of pipes and slippers and shawls, and such like
Oriental merchandise, not only embroiderers and cunning workmen
patiently striving to realise his visions of Albanian dresses, not
only the servants offering for places, and the slave-dealer
tendering his sable ware, but there would be the Greek master,
waiting to teach his pupil the grammar of the soft Ionian tongue,
in which he was to delight the wife of his imagination, and the
music-master, who was to teach him some sweet replies to the
anticipated sounds of the fancied guitar; and then, above all, and
proudly eminent with undisputed preference of entree, and fraught
with the mysterious tidings on which the realisation of the whole
dream might depend, was the mysterious match-maker, {9} enticing
and postponing the suitor, yet ever keeping alive in his soul the
love of that pictured virtue, whose beauty (unseen by eyes) was
half revealed to the imagination.

You would have thought that this practical dreaming must have soon
brought Carrigaholt to a bad end, but he was in much less danger
than you would suppose; for besides that the new visions of
happiness almost always came in time to counteract the fatal
completion of the preceding scheme, his high breeding and his
delicately sensitive taste almost always came to his aid at times
when he was left without any other protection; and the efficacy of
these qualities in keeping a man out of harm's way is really
immense.  In all baseness and imposture there is a coarse, vulgar
spirit, which, however artfully concealed for a time, must sooner
or later show itself in some little circumstance sufficiently plain
to occasion an instant jar upon the minds of those whose taste is
lively and true.  To such men a shock of this kind, disclosing the
UGLINESS of a cheat, is more effectively convincing than any mere
proofs could be.

Thus guarded from isle to isle, and through Greece, and through
Albania, this practical Plato with a purse in his hand, carried on
his mad chase after the good and the beautiful, and yet returned in
safety to his home.  But now, poor fellow! the lowly grave, that is
the end of men's romantic hopes, has closed over all his rich
fancies, and all his high aspirations; he is utterly married!  No
more hope, no more change for him--no more relays--he must go on
Vetturini-wise to the appointed end of his journey!

Smyrna, I think, may be called the chief town and capital of the
Grecian race, against which you will be cautioned so carefully as
soon as you touch the Levant.  You will say that I ought not to
confound as one people the Greeks living under a constitutional
government with the unfortunate Rayahs who "groan under the Turkish
yoke," but I can't see that political events have hitherto produced
any strongly marked difference of character.  If I could venture to
rely (which I feel that I cannot at all do) upon my own
observation, I should tell you that there was more heartiness and
strength in the Greeks of the Ottoman Empire than in those of the
new kingdom.  The truth is, that there is a greater field for
commercial enterprise, and even for Greek ambition, under the
Ottoman sceptre, than is to be found in the dominions of Otho.
Indeed the people, by their frequent migrations from the limits of
the constitutional kingdom to the territories of the Porte, seem to
show that, on the whole, they prefer "groaning under the Turkish
yoke" to the honour of "being the only true source of legitimate
power" in their own land.

For myself, I love the race; in spite of all their vices, and even
in spite of all their meannesses, I remember the blood that is in
them, and still love the Greeks.  The Osmanlees are, of course, by
nature, by religion, and by politics, the strong foes of the
Hellenic people, and as the Greeks, poor fellows! happen to be a
little deficient in some of the virtues which facilitate the
transaction of commercial business (such as veracity, fidelity,
&c.), it naturally follows that they are highly unpopular with the
European merchants.  Now these are the persons through whom, either
directly or indirectly, is derived the greater part of the
information which you gather in the Levant, and therefore you must
make up your mind to hear an almost universal and unbroken
testimony against the character of the people whose ancestors
invented virtue.  And strange to say, the Greeks themselves do not
attempt to disturb this general unanimity of opinion by an dissent
on their part.  Question a Greek on the subject, and he will tell
you at once that the people are traditori, and will then, perhaps,
endeavour to shake off his fair share of the imputation by
asserting that his father had been dragoman to some foreign
embassy, and that he (the son), therefore, by the law of nations,
had ceased to be Greek.

"E dunque no siete traditore?"

"Possibile, signor, ma almeno Io no sono Greco."

Not even the diplomatic representatives of the Hellenic kingdom are
free from the habit of depreciating their brethren.  I recollect
that at one of the ports in Syria a Greek vessel was rather
unfairly kept in quarantine by order of the Board of Health, which
consisted entirely of Europeans.  A consular agent from the kingdom
of Greece had lately hoisted his flag in the town, and the captain
of the vessel drew up a remonstrance, which he requested his consul
to present to the Board.

"Now, IS this reasonable?" said the consul; "is it reasonable that
I should place myself in collision with all the principal European
gentlemen of the place for the sake of you, a Greek?"  The skipper
was greatly vexed at the failure of his application, but he
scarcely even questioned the justice of the ground which his consul
had taken.  Well, it happened some time afterwards that I found
myself at the same port, having gone thither with the view of
embarking for the port of Syra.  I was anxious, of course, to elude
as carefully as possible the quarantine detentions which threatened
me on my arrival, and hearing that the Greek consul had a brother
who was a man in authority at Syra, I got myself presented to the
former, and took the liberty of asking him to give me such a letter
of introduction to his relative at Syra as might possibly have the
effect of shortening the term of my quarantine.  He acceded to this
request with the utmost kindness and courtesy; but when he replied
to my thanks by saying that "in serving an Englishman he was doing
no more than his strict duty commanded," not even my gratitude
could prevent me from calling to mind his treatment of the poor
captain who had the misfortune of NOT being an alien in blood to
his consul and appointed protector.

I think that the change which has taken place in the character of
the Greeks has been occasioned, in great measure, by the doctrines
and practice of their religion.  The Greek Church has animated the
Muscovite peasant, and inspired him with hopes and ideas which,
however humble, are still better than none at all; but the faith,
and the forms, and the strange ecclesiastical literature which act
so advantageously upon the mere clay of the Russian serf, seem to
hang like lead upon the ethereal spirit of the Greek.  Never in any
part of the world have I seen religious performances so painful to
witness as those of the Greeks.  The horror, however, with which
one shudders at their worship is attributable, in some measure, to
the mere effect of costume.  In all the Ottoman dominions, and very
frequently too in the kingdom of Otho, the Greeks wear turbans or
other head-dresses, and shave their heads, leaving only a rat's-
tail at the crown of the head; they of course keep themselves
covered within doors as well as abroad, and they never remove their
head-gear merely on account of being in a church; but when the
Greek stops to worship at his proper shrine, then, and then only,
he always uncovers; and as you see him thus with shaven skull and
savage tail depending from his crown, kissing a thing of wood and
glass, and cringing with base prostrations and apparent terror
before a miserable picture, you see superstition in a shape which,
outwardly at least, is sadly abject and repulsive.

The fasts, too, of the Greek Church produce an ill effect upon the
character of the people, for they are not a mere farce, but are
carried to such an extent as to bring about a real mortification of
the flesh; the febrile irritation of the frame operating in
conjunction with the depression of the spirits occasioned by
abstinence, will so far answer the objects of the rite, as to
engender some religious excitement, but this is of a morbid and
gloomy character, and it seems to be certain, that along with the
increase of sanctity, there comes a fiercer desire for the
perpetration of dark crimes.  The number of murders committed
during Lent is greater, I am told, than at any other time of the
year.  A man under the influence of a bean dietary (for this is the
principal food of the Greeks during their fasts) will be in an apt
humour for enriching the shrine of his saint, and passing a knife
through his next-door neighbour.  The moneys deposited upon the
shrines are appropriated by priests; the priests are married men,
and have families to provide for; they "take the good with the
bad," and continue to recommend fasts.

Then, too, the Greek Church enjoins her followers to keep holy such
a vast number of saints' days as practically to shorten the lives
of the people very materially.  I believe that one-third out of the
number of days in the year are "kept holy," or rather, KEPT STUPID,
in honour of the saints; no great portion of the time thus set
apart is spent in religious exercises, and the people don't betake
themselves to any such animating pastimes as might serve to
strengthen the frame, or invigorate the mind, or exalt the taste.
On the contrary, the saints' days of the Greeks in Smyrna are
passed in the same manner as the Sabbaths of well-behaved
Protestant housemaids in London--that is to say, in a steady and
serious contemplation of street scenery.  The men perform this duty
AT THE DOORS of their houses, the women AT THE WINDOWS, which the
custom of Greek towns has so decidedly appropriated to them as the
proper station of their sex, that a man would be looked upon as
utterly effeminate if he ventured to choose that situation for the
keeping of the saints' days.  I was present one day at a treaty for
the hire of some apartments at Smyrna, which was carried on between
Carrigaholt and the Greek woman to whom the rooms belonged.
Carrigaholt objected that the windows commanded no view of the
street.  Immediately the brow of the majestic matron was clouded,
and with all the scorn of a Spartan mother she coolly asked
Carrigaholt, and said, "Art thou a tender damsel that thou wouldst
sit and gaze from windows?"  The man whom she addressed, however,
had not gone to Greece with any intention of placing himself under
the laws of Lycurgus, and was not to be diverted from his views by
a Spartan rebuke, so he took care to find himself windows after his
own heart, and there, I believe, for many a month, he kept the
saints' days, and all the days intervening, after the fashion of
Grecian women.

Oh! let me be charitable to all who write, and to all who lecture,
and to all who preach, since even I, a layman not forced to write
at all, can hardly avoid chiming in with some tuneful cant!  I have
had the heart to talk about the pernicious effects of the Greek
holidays, to which I owe some of my most beautiful visions!  I will
let the words stand, as a humbling proof that I am subject to that
immutable law which compels a man with a pen in his hand to be
uttering every now and then some sentiment not his own.  It seems
as though the power of expressing regrets and desires by written
symbols were coupled with a condition that the writer should from
time to time express the regrets and desires of other people; as
though, like a French peasant under the old regime, one were bound
to perform a certain amount of work UPON THE PUBLIC HIGHWAYS.  I
rebel as stoutly as I can against this horrible, corvee.  I try not
to deceive you--I try to set down the thoughts which are fresh
within me, and not to pretend any wishes, or griefs, which I do not
really feel; but no sooner do I cease from watchfulness in this
regard, than my right hand is, as it were, seized by some false
angel, and even now, you see, I have been forced to put down such
words and sentences as I ought to have written if really and truly
I had wished to disturb the saints' days of the beautiful
Smyrniotes!

Which, Heaven forbid! for as you move through the narrow streets of
the city at these times of festival, the transom-shaped windows
suspended over your head on either side are filled with the
beautiful descendants of the old Ionian race; all (even yonder
empress that sits throned at the window of that humblest mud
cottage) are attired with seeming magnificence; their classic heads
are crowned with scarlet, and loaded with jewels or coins of gold,
the whole wealth of the wearers; {10} their features are touched
with a savage pencil, which hardens the outline of eyes and
eyebrows, and lends an unnatural fire to the stern, grave looks
with which they pierce your brain.  Endure their fiery eyes as best
you may, and ride on slowly and reverently, for facing you from the
side of the transom, that looks long-wise through the street, you
see the one glorious shape transcendant in its beauty; you see the
massive braid of hair as it catches a touch of light on its jetty
surface, and the broad, calm, angry brow; the large black eyes,
deep set, and self-relying like the eyes of a conqueror, with their
rich shadows of thought lying darkly around them; you see the thin
fiery nostril, and the bold line of the chin and throat disclosing
all the fierceness, and all the pride, passion, and power that can
live along with the rare womanly beauty of those sweetly turned
lips.  But then there is a terrible stillness in this breathing
image; it seems like the stillness of a savage that sits intent and
brooding, day by day, upon some one fearful scheme of vengeance,
but yet more like it seems to the stillness of an Immortal, whose
will must be known, and obeyed without sign or speech.  Bow down!--
Bow down and adore the young Persephonie, transcendent Queen of
Shades!



CHAPTER VI--GREEK MARINERS



I sailed from Smyrna in the Amphitrite, a Greek brigantine, which
was confidently said to be bound for the coast of Syria; but I knew
that this announcement was not to be relied upon with positive
certainty, for the Greek mariners are practically free from the
stringency of ship's papers, and where they will, there they go.
However, I had the whole of the cabin for myself and my attendant,
Mysseri, subject only to the society of the captain at the hour of
dinner.  Being at ease in this respect, being furnished too with
plenty of books, and finding an unfailing source of interest in the
thorough Greekness of my captain and my crew, I felt less anxious
than most people would have been about the probable length of the
cruise.  I knew enough of Greek navigation to be sure that our
vessel would cling to earth like a child to its mother's knee, and
that I should touch at many an isle before I set foot upon the
Syrian coast; but I had no invidious preference for Europe, Asia,
or Africa, and I felt that I could defy the winds to blow me upon a
coast that was blank and void of interest.  My patience was
extremely useful to me, for the cruise altogether endured some
forty days, and that in the midst of winter.

According to me, the most interesting of all the Greeks (male
Greeks) are the mariners, because their pursuits and their social
condition are so nearly the same as those of their famous
ancestors.  You will say, that the occupation of commerce must have
smoothed down the salience of their minds; and this would be so
perhaps if their mercantile affairs were conducted according to the
fixed businesslike routine of Europeans; but the ventures of the
Greeks are surrounded by such a multitude of imagined dangers (and
from the absence of regular marts, in which the true value of
merchandise can be ascertained), are so entirely speculative, and
besides, are conducted in a manner so wholly determined upon by the
wayward fancies and wishes of the crew, that they belong to
enterprise rather than to industry, and are very far indeed from
tending to deaden any freshness of character.

The vessels in which war and piracy were carried on during the
years of the Greek Revolution became merchantmen at the end of the
war; but the tactics of the Greeks, as naval warriors, were so
exceedingly cautious, and their habits as commercial mariners are
so wild, that the change has been more slight than you might
imagine.  The first care of Greeks (Greek Rayahs) when they
undertake a shipping enterprise is to procure for their vessel the
protection of some European power.  This is easily managed by a
little intriguing with the dragoman of one of the embassies at
Constantinople, and the craft soon glories in the ensign of Russia,
or the dazzling Tricolor, or the Union Jack.  Thus, to the great
delight of her crew, she enters upon the ocean world with a flaring
lie at her peak, but the appearance of the vessel does no discredit
to the borrowed flag; she is frail indeed, but is gracefully built,
and smartly rigged; she always carries guns, and in short, gives
good promise of mischief and speed.

The privileges attached to the vessel and her crew by virtue of the
borrowed flag are so great, as to imply a liberty wider even than
that which is often enjoyed in our more strictly civilised
countries, so that there is no pretence for saying that the
development of the true character belonging to Greek mariners is
prevented by the dominion of the Ottoman.  These men are free, too,
from the power of the great capitalist, whose sway is more
withering than despotism itself to the enterprises of humble
venturers.  The capital employed is supplied by those whose labour
is to render it productive.  The crew receive no wages, but have
all a share in the venture, and in general, I believe, they are the
owners of the whole freight.  They choose a captain, to whom they
entrust just power enough to keep the vessel on her course in fine
weather, but not quite enough for a gale of wind; they also elect a
cook and a mate.  The cook whom we had on board was particularly
careful about the ship's reckoning, and when under the influence of
the keen sea-breezes we grew fondly expectant of an instant dinner,
the great author of pilafs would be standing on deck with an
ancient quadrant in his hands, calmly affecting to take an
observation.  But then to make up for this the captain would be
exercising a controlling influence over the soup, so that all in
the end went well.  Our mate was a Hydriot, a native of that island
rock which grows nothing but mariners and mariners' wives.  His
character seemed to be exactly that which is generally attributed
to the Hydriot race; he was fierce, and gloomy, and lonely in his
ways.  One of his principal duties seemed to be that of acting as
counter-captain, or leader of the opposition, denouncing the first
symptoms of tyranny, and protecting even the cabin-boy from
oppression.  Besides this, when things went smoothly he would begin
to prognosticate evil, in order that his more light-hearted
comrades might not be puffed up with the seeming good fortune of
the moment.

It seemed to me that the personal freedom of these sailors, who own
no superiors except those of their own choice, is as like as may be
to that of their seafaring ancestors.  And even in their mode of
navigation they have admitted no such an entire change as you would
suppose probable.  It is true that they have so far availed
themselves of modern discoveries as to look to the compass instead
of the stars, and that they have superseded the immortal gods of
their forefathers by St. Nicholas in his glass case, {11} but they
are not yet so confident either in their needle, or their saint, as
to love an open sea, and they still hug their shores as fondly as
the Argonauts of old.  Indeed, they have a most unsailor-like love
for the land, and I really believe that in a gale of wind they
would rather have a rock-bound coast on their lee than no coast at
all.  According to the notions of an English seaman, this kind of
navigation would soon bring the vessel on which it might be
practised to an evil end.  The Greek, however, is unaccountably
successful in escaping the consequences of being "jammed in," as it
is called, upon a lee-shore.

These seamen, like their forefathers, rely upon no winds unless
they are right astern or on the quarter; they rarely go on a wind
if it blows at all fresh, and if the adverse breeze approaches to a
gale, they at once fumigate St. Nicholas, and put up the helm.  The
consequence of course is that under the ever-varying winds of the
Aegean they are blown about in the most whimsical manner.  I used
to think that Ulysses with his ten years' voyage had taken his time
in making Ithaca, but my experience in Greek navigation soon made
me understand that he had had, in point of fact, a pretty good
"average passage."

Such are now the mariners of the Aegean:  free, equal amongst
themselves, navigating the seas of their forefathers with the same
heroic, and yet child-like, spirit of venture, the same half-
trustful reliance upon heavenly aid, they are the liveliest images
of true old Greeks that time and the new religions have spared to
us.

With one exception, our crew were "a solemn company," {12} and yet,
sometimes, when all things went well, they would relax their
austerity, and show a disposition to fun, or rather to quiet
humour.  When this happened, they invariably had recourse to one of
their number, who went by the name of  "Admiral Nicolou."  He was
an amusing fellow, the poorest, I believe, and the least thoughtful
of the crew, but full of rich humour.  His oft-told story of the
events by which he had gained the sobriquet of "Admiral" never
failed to delight his hearers, and when he was desired to repeat it
for my benefit, the rest of the crew crowded round with as much
interest as if they were listening to the tale for the first time.
A number of Greek brigs and brigantines were at anchor in the bay
of Beyrout.  A festival of some kind, particularly attractive to
the sailors, was going on in the town, and whether with or without
leave I know not, but the crews of all the craft, except that of
Nicolou, had gone ashore.  On board his vessel, however, which
carried dollars, there was, it would seem, a more careful, or more
influential captain, who was able to enforce his determination that
one man, at least, should be left on board.  Nicolou's good nature
was with him so powerful an impulse, that he could not resist the
delight of volunteering to stay with the vessel whilst his comrades
went ashore.  His proposal was accepted, and the crew and captain
soon left him alone on the deck of his vessel.  The sailors,
gathering together from their several ships, were amusing
themselves in the town, when suddenly there came down from betwixt
the mountains one of those sudden hurricanes which sometimes occur
in southern climes.  Nicolou's vessel, together with four of the
craft which had been left unmanned, broke from her moorings, and
all five of the vessels were carried out seaward.  The town is on a
salient point at the southern side of the bay, so that "that
Admiral" was close under the eyes of the inhabitants and the shore-
gone sailors when he gallantly drifted out at the head of his
little fleet.  If Nicolou could not entirely control the manoeuvres
of the squadron, there was at least no human power to divide his
authority, and thus it was that he took rank as "Admiral."  Nicolou
cut his cable, and thus for the time saved his vessel; for the rest
of the fleet under his command were quickly wrecked, whilst "the
Admiral" got away clear to the open sea.  The violence of the
squall soon passed off, but Nicolou felt that his chance of one day
resigning his high duties as an admiral for the enjoyments of
private life on the steadfast shore mainly depended upon his
success in working the brig with his own hands, so after calling on
his namesake, the saint (not for the first time, I take it), he got
up some canvas, and took the helm:  he became equal, he told us, to
a score of Nicolous, and the vessel, as he said, was "manned with
his terrors."  For two days, it seems, he cruised at large, but at
last, either by his seamanship, or by the natural instinct of the
Greek mariners for finding land, he brought his craft close to an
unknown shore, that promised well for his purpose of running in the
vessel; and he was preparing to give her a good berth on the beach,
when he saw a gang of ferocious-looking fellows coming down to the
point for which he was making.  Poor Nicolou was a perfectly
unlettered and untutored genius, and for that reason, perhaps, a
keen listener to tales of terror.  His mind had been impressed with
some horrible legend of cannibalism, and he now did not doubt for a
moment that the men awaiting him on the beach were the monsters at
whom he had shuddered in the days of his childhood.  The coast on
which Nicolou was running his vessel was somewhere, I fancy, at the
foot of the Anzairie Mountains, and the fellows who were preparing
to give him a reception were probably very rough specimens of
humanity.  It is likely enough that they might have given
themselves the trouble of putting "the Admiral" to death, for the
purpose of simplifying their claim to the vessel and preventing
litigation, but the notion of their cannibalism was of course
utterly unfounded.  Nicolou's terror had, however, so graven the
idea on his mind, that he could never afterwards dismiss it.
Having once determined the character of his expectant hosts, the
Admiral naturally thought that it would he better to keep their
dinner waiting any length of time than to attend their feast in the
character of a roasted Greek, so he put about his vessel, and
tempted the deep once more.  After a further cruise the lonely
commander ran his vessel upon some rocks at another part of the
coast, where she was lost with all her treasures, and Nicolou was
but too glad to scramble ashore, though without one dollar in his
girdle.  These adventures seem flat enough as I repeat them, but
the hero expressed his terrors by such odd terms of speech, and
such strangely humorous gestures, that the story came from his lips
with an unfailing zest, so that the crew, who had heard the tale so
often, could still enjoy to their hearts' content the rich fright
of the Admiral, and still shuddered with unabated horror when he
came to the loss of the dollars.

The power of listening to long stories (for which, by-the-bye, I am
giving you large credit) is common, I fancy, to most sailors, and
the Greeks have it to a high degree, for they can be perfectly
patient under a narrative of two or three hours' duration.  These
long stories are mostly founded upon Oriental topics, and in one of
them I recognised with some alteration an old friend of the
"Arabian Nights."  I inquired as to the source from which the story
had been derived, and the crew all agreed that it had been handed
down unwritten from Greek to Greek.  Their account of the matter
does not, perhaps, go very far towards showing the real origin of
the tale; but when I afterwards took up the "Arabian Nights," I
became strongly impressed with a notion that they must have sprung
from the brain of a Greek.  It seems to me that these stories,
whilst they disclose a complete and habitual KNOWLEDGE of things
Asiatic, have about them so much of freshness and life, so much of
the stirring and volatile European character, that they cannot have
owed their conception to a mere Oriental, who for creative purposes
is a thing dead and dry--a mental mummy, that may have been a live
king just after the Flood, but has since lain balmed in spice.  At
the time of the Caliphat the Greek race was familiar enough to
Baghdad:  they were the merchants, the pedlars, the barbers, and
intriguers-general of south-western Asia, and therefore the
Oriental materials with which the Arabian tales were wrought must
have been completely at the command of the inventive people to whom
I would attribute their origin.

We were nearing the isle of Cyprus when there arose half a gale of
wind, with a heavy chopping sea.  My Greek seamen considered that
the weather amounted not to a half, but to an integral gale of wind
at the very least, so they put up the helm, and scudded for twenty
hours.  When we neared the mainland of Anadoli the gale ceased, and
a favourable breeze sprung up, which brought us off Cyprus once
more.  Afterwards the wind changed again, but we were still able to
lay our course by sailing close-hauled.

We were at length in such a position, that by holding on our course
for about half-an-hour we should get under the lee of the island
and find ourselves in smooth water, but the wind had been gradually
freshening; it now blew hard, and there was a heavy sea running.

As the grounds for alarm arose, the crew gathered together in one
close group; they stood pale and grim under their hooded capotes
like monks awaiting a massacre, anxiously looking by turns along
the pathway of the storm and then upon each other, and then upon
the eye of the captain who stood by the helmsman.  Presently the
Hydriot came aft, more moody than ever, the bearer of fierce
remonstrance against the continuing of the struggle; he received a
resolute answer, and still we held our course.  Soon there came a
heavy sea, that caught the bow of the brigantine as she lay jammed
in betwixt the waves; she bowed her head low under the waters, and
shuddered through all her timbers, then gallantly stood up again
over the striving sea, with bowsprit entire.  But where were the
crew?  It was a crew no longer, but rather a gathering of Greek
citizens; the shout of the seamen was changed for the murmuring of
the people--the spirit of the old Demos was alive.  The men came
aft in a body, and loudly asked that the vessel should be put
about, and that the storm be no longer tempted.  Now, then, for
speeches.  The captain, his eyes flashing fire, his frame all
quivering with emotion--wielding his every limb, like another and a
louder voice, pours forth the eloquent torrent of his threats and
his reasons, his commands and his prayers; he promises, he vows, he
swears that there is safety in holding on--safety, IF GREEKS WILL
BE BRAVE!  The men hear and are moved; but the gale rouses itself
once more, and again the raging sea comes trampling over the
timbers that are the life of all.  The fierce Hydriot advances one
step nearer to the captain, and the angry growl of the people goes
floating down the wind, but they listen; they waver once more, and
once more resolve, then waver again, thus doubtfully hanging
between the terrors of the storm and the persuasion of glorious
speech, as though it were the Athenian that talked, and Philip of
Macedon that thundered on the weather-bow.

Brave thoughts winged on Grecian words gained their natural mastery
over terror; the brigantine held on her course, and reached smooth
water at last.  I landed at Limasol, the westernmost port of
Cyprus, leaving the vessel to sail for Larnaka, where she was to
remain for some days.



CHAPTER VII--CYPRUS



There was a Greek at Limasol who hoisted his flag as an English
vice-consul, and he insisted upon my accepting his hospitality.
With some difficulty, and chiefly by assuring him that I could not
delay my departure beyond an early hour in the afternoon, I induced
him to allow my dining with his family instead of banqueting all
alone with the representative of my sovereign in consular state and
dignity.  The lady of the house, it seemed, had never sat at table
with an European.  She was very shy about the matter, and tried
hard to get out of the scrape, but the husband, I fancy, reminded
her that she was theoretically an Englishwoman, by virtue of the
flag that waved over her roof, and that she was bound to show her
nationality by sitting at meat with me.  Finding herself inexorably
condemned to bear with the dreaded gaze of European eyes, she tried
to save her innocent children from the hard fate awaiting herself,
but I obtained that all of them (and I think there were four or
five) should sit at the table.  You will meet with abundance of
stately receptions and of generous hospitality, too, in the East,
but rarely, very rarely in those regions (or even, so far as I
know, in any part of southern Europe) does one gain an opportunity
of seeing the familiar and indoor life of the people.

This family party of the good consul's (or rather of mine, for I
originated the idea, though he furnished the materials) went off
very well.  The mamma was shy at first, but she veiled the
awkwardness which she felt by affecting to scold her children, who
had all of them, I think, immortal names--names too which they owed
to tradition, and certainly not to any classical enthusiasm of
their parents.  Every instant I was delighted by some such phrases
as these, "Themistocles, my love, don't fight."--"Alcibiades, can't
you sit still?"--"Socrates, put down the cup."--"Oh, fie!  Aspasia,
don't.  Oh! don't be naughty!"  It is true that the names were
pronounced Socrahtie, Aspahsie--that is, according to accent, and
not according to quantity--but I suppose it is scarcely now to be
doubted that they were so sounded in ancient times.

To me it seems, that of all the lands I know (you will see in a
minute how I connect this piece of prose' with the isle of Cyprus),
there is none in which mere wealth, mere unaided wealth, is held
half so cheaply; none in which a poor devil of a millionaire,
without birth, or ability, occupies so humble a place as in
England.  My Greek host and I were sitting together, I think, upon
the roof of the house (for that is the lounging-place in Eastern
climes), when the former assumed a serious air, and intimated a
wish to converse upon the subject of the British Constitution, with
which he assured me that he was thoroughly acquainted.  He
presently, however, informed me that there was one anomalous
circumstance attended upon the practical working of our political
system which he had never been able to hear explained in a manner
satisfactory to himself.  From the fact of his having found a
difficulty in his subject, I began to think that my host might
really know rather more of it than his announcement of a thorough
knowledge had led me to expect.  I felt interested at being about
to hear from the lips of an intelligent Greek, quite remote from
the influence of European opinions, what might seem to him the most
astonishing and incomprehensible of all those results which have
followed from the action of our political institutions.  The
anomaly, the only anomaly which had been detected by the vice-
consular wisdom, consisted in the fact that Rothschild (the late
money-monger) had never been the Prime Minister of England!  I
gravely tried to throw some light upon the mysterious causes that
had kept the worthy Israelite out of the Cabinet, but I think I
could see that my explanation was not satisfactory.  Go and argue
with the flies of summer that there is a power divine, yet greater
than the sun in the heavens, but never dare hope to convince the
people of the south that there is any other God than Gold.

My intended journey was to the site of the Paphian temple.  I take
no antiquarian interest in ruins, and care little about them,
unless they are either striking in themselves, or else serve to
mark some spot on which my fancy loves to dwell.  I knew that the
ruins of Paphos were scarcely, if at all, discernible, but there
was a will and a longing more imperious than mere curiosity that
drove me thither.

For this just then was my pagan soul's desire--that (not forfeiting
my inheritance for the life to come) it had yet been given me to
live through this world--to live a favoured mortal under the old
Olympian dispensation--to speak out my resolves to the listening
Jove, and hear him answer with approving thunder--to be blessed
with divine counsels from the lips of Pallas Athenie--to believe--
ay, only to believe--to believe for one rapturous moment that in
the gloomy depths of the grove, by the mountain's side, there were
some leafy pathway that crisped beneath the glowing sandal of
Aphrodetie--Aphrodetie, not coldly disdainful of even a mortal's
love!  And this vain, heathenish longing of mine was father to the
thought of visiting the scene of the ancient worship.

The isle is beautiful.  From the edge of the rich, flowery fields
on which I trod to the midway sides of the snowy Olympus, the
ground could only here and there show an abrupt crag, or a high
straggling ridge that up-shouldered itself from out of the
wilderness of myrtles, and of the thousand bright-leaved shrubs
that twined their arms together in lovesome tangles.  The air that
came to my lips was warm and fragrant as the ambrosial breath of
the goddess, infecting me, not (of course) with a faith in the old
religion of the isle, but with a sense and apprehension of its
mystic power--a power that was still to be obeyed--obeyed by ME,
for why otherwise did I toil on with sorry horses to "where, for
HER, the hundred altars glowed with Arabian incense, and breathed
with the fragrance of garlands ever fresh"? {13}

I passed a sadly disenchanting night in the cabin of a Greek
priest--not a priest of the goddess, but of the Greek Church; there
was but one humble room, or rather shed, for man, and priest, and
beast.  The next morning I reached Baffa (Paphos), a village not
far distant from the site of the temple.  There was a Greek
husbandman there who (not for emolument, but for the sake of the
protection and dignity which it afforded) had got leave from the
man at Limasol to hoist his flag as a sort of deputy-provisionary-
sub-vice-pro-acting-consul of the British sovereign:  the poor
fellow instantly changed his Greek headgear for the cap of consular
dignity, and insisted upon accompanying me to the ruins.  I would
not have stood this if I could have felt the faintest gleam of my
yesterday's pagan piety, but I had ceased to dream, and had nothing
to dread from any new disenchanters.

The ruins (the fragments of one or two prostrate pillars) lie upon
a promontory, bare and unmystified by the gloom of surrounding
groves.  My Greek friend in his consular cap stood by, respectfully
waiting to see what turn my madness would take, now that I had come
at last into the presence of the old stones.  If you have no taste
for research, and can't affect to look for inscriptions, there is
some awkwardness in coming to the end of a merely sentimental
pilgrimage; when the feeling which impelled you has gone, you have
nothing to do but to laugh the thing off as well as you can, and,
by-the-bye, it is not a bad plan to turn the conversation (or
rather, allow the natives to turn it) towards the subject of hidden
treasures.  This is a topic on which they will always speak with
eagerness, and if they can fancy that you, too, take an interest in
such matters, they will not only think you perfectly sane, but will
begin to give you credit for some more than human powers of forcing
the obscure earth to show you its hoards of gold.

When we returned to Baffa, the vice-consul seized a club with the
quietly determined air of a brave man resolved to do some deed of
note.  He went into the yard adjoining his cottage, where there
were some thin, thoughtful, canting cocks, and serious, low-church-
looking hens, respectfully listening, and chickens of tender years
so well brought up, as scarcely to betray in their conduct the
careless levity of youth.  The vice-consul stood for a moment quite
calm, collecting his strength; then suddenly he rushed into the
midst of the congregation, and began to deal death and destruction
on all sides.  He spared neither sex nor age; the dead and dying
were immediately removed from the field of slaughter, and in less
than an hour, I think, they were brought on the table, deeply
buried in mounds of snowy rice.

My host was in all respects a fine, generous fellow.  I could not
bear the idea of impoverishing him by my visit, and I consulted my
faithful Mysseri, who not only assured me that I might safely offer
money to the vice-consul, but recommended that I should give no
more to him than to "the others," meaning any other peasant.  I
felt, however, that there was something about the man, besides the
flag and the cap, which made me shrink from offering coin, and as I
mounted my horse on departing I gave him the only thing fit for a
present that I happened to have with me, a rather handsome clasp-
dagger, brought from Vienna.  The poor fellow was ineffably
grateful, and I had some difficulty in tearing myself from out of
the reach of his thanks.  At last I gave him what I supposed to be
the last farewell, and rode on, but I had not gained more than
about a hundred yards when my host came bounding and shouting after
me, with a goat's-milk cheese in his hand, which he implored me to
accept.  In old times the shepherd of Theocritus, or (to speak less
dishonestly) the shepherd of the "Poetae Graeci," sung his best
song; I in this latter age presented my best dagger, and both of us
received the same rustic reward.

It had been known that I should return to Limasol, and when I
arrived there I found that a noble old Greek had been hospitably
plotting to have me for his guest.  I willingly accepted his offer.
The day of my arrival happened to be the birthday of my host, and
in consequence of this there was a constant influx of visitors, who
came to offer their congratulations.  A few of these were men, but
most of them were young, graceful girls.  Almost all of them went
through the ceremony with the utmost precision and formality; each
in succession spoke her blessing, in the tone of a person repeating
a set formula, then deferentially accepted the invitation to sit,
partook of the proffered sweetmeats and the cold, glittering water,
remained for a few minutes either in silence or engaged in very
thin conversation, then arose, delivered a second benediction,
followed by an elaborate farewell, and departed.

The bewitching power attributed at this day to the women of Cyprus
is curious in connection with the worship of the sweet goddess, who
called their isle her own.  The Cypriote is not, I think, nearly so
beautiful in face as the Ionian queens of Izmir, but she is tall,
and slightly formed; there is a high-souled meaning and expression,
a seeming consciousness of gentle empire, that speaks in the wavy
line of the shoulder, and winds itself like Cytherea's own cestus
around the slender waist; then the richly-abounding hair (not
enviously gathered together under the head-dress) descends the
neck, and passes the waist in sumptuous braids.  Of all other women
with Grecian blood in their veins the costume is graciously
beautiful, but these, the maidens of Limasol--their robes are more
gently, more sweetly imagined, and fall like Julia's cashmere in
soft, luxurious folds.  The common voice of the Levant allows that
in face the women of Cyprus are less beautiful than their brilliant
sisters of Smyrna; and yet, says the Greek, he may trust himself to
one and all the bright cities of the Aegean, and may yet weigh
anchor with a heart entire, but that so surely as he ventures upon
the enchanted isle of Cyprus, so surely will he know the rapture or
the bitterness of love.  The charm, they say, owes its power to
that which the people call the astonishing "politics" (p???t???) of
the women, meaning, I fancy, their tact and their witching ways:
the word, however, plainly fails to express one-half of that which
the speakers would say.  I have smiled to hear the Greek, with all
his plenteousness of fancy, and all the wealth of his generous
language, yet vainly struggling to describe the ineffable spell
which the Parisians dispose of in their own smart way by a summary
"Je ne scai quoi."

I went to Larnaca, the chief city of the isle, and over the water
at last to Beyrout.



CHAPTER VIII--LADY HESTER STANHOPE {14}



Beyrout on its land side is hemmed in by the Druses, who occupy all
the neighbouring highlands.

Often enough I saw the ghostly images of the women with their
exalted horns stalking through the streets, and I saw too in
travelling the affrighted groups of the mountaineers as they fled
before me, under the fear that my party might be a company of
income-tax commissioners, or a pressgang enforcing the conscription
for Mehemet Ali; but nearly all my knowledge of the people, except
in regard of their mere costume and outward appearance, is drawn
from books and despatches, to which I have the honour to refer you.

I received hospitable welcome at Beyrout from the Europeans as well
as from the Syrian Christians, and I soon discovered that their
standing topic of interest was the Lady Hester Stanhope, who lived
in an old convent on the Lebanon range, at the distance of about a
day's journey from the town.  The lady's habit of refusing to see
Europeans added the charm of mystery to a character which, even
without that aid, was sufficiently distinguished to command
attention.

Many years of Lady Hester's early womanhood had been passed with
Lady Chatham at Burton Pynsent, and during that inglorious period
of the heroine's life her commanding character, and (as they would
have called it in the language of those days) her "condescending
kindness" towards my mother's family, had increased in them those
strong feelings of respect and attachment, which her rank and
station alone would have easily won from people of the middle
class.  You may suppose how deeply the quiet women in Somersetshire
must have been interested, when they slowly learned by vague and
uncertain tidings that the intrepid girl who had been used to break
their vicious horses for them was reigning in sovereignty over the
wandering tribes of Western Asia!  I know that her name was made
almost as familiar to me in my childhood as the name of Robinson
Crusoe--both were associated with the spirit of adventure; but
whilst the imagined life of the cast-away mariner never failed to
seem glaringly real, the true story of the Englishwoman ruling over
Arabs always sounded to me like fable.  I never had heard, nor
indeed, I believe, had the rest of the world ever heard, anything
like a certain account of the heroine's adventures; all I knew was,
that in one of the drawers which were the delight of my childhood,
along with attar of roses and fragrant wonders from Hindustan,
there were letters carefully treasured, and trifling presents which
I was taught to think valuable because they had come from the queen
of the desert, who dwelt in tents, and reigned over wandering
Arabs.

This subject, however, died away, and from the ending of my
childhood up to the period of my arrival in the Levant, I had
seldom even heard a mentioning of the Lady Hester Stanhope, but
now, wherever I went, I was met by the name so familiar in sound,
and yet so full of mystery from the vague, fairy-tale sort of idea
which it brought to my mind; I heard it, too, connected with fresh
wonders, for it was said that the woman was now acknowledged as an
inspired being by the people of the mountains, and it was even
hinted with horror that she claimed to be MORE THAN A PROPHET.

I felt at once that my mother would be sadly sorry to hear that I
had been within a day's ride of her early friend without offering
to see her, and I therefore despatched a letter to the recluse,
mentioning the maiden name of my mother (whose marriage was
subsequent to Lady Hester's departure), and saying that if there
existed on the part of her ladyship any wish to hear of her old
Somersetshire acquaintance, I should make a point of visiting her.
My letter was sent by a foot-messenger, who was to take an
unlimited time for his journey, so that it was not, I think, until
either the third or the fourth day that the answer arrived.  A
couple of horsemen covered with mud suddenly dashed into the little
court of the "locanda" in which I was staying, bearing themselves
as ostentatiously as though they were carrying a cartel from the
Devil to the Angel Michael:  one of these (the other being his
attendant) was an Italian by birth (though now completely
orientalised), who lived in my lady's establishment as doctor
nominally, but practically as an upper servant; he presented me a
very kind and appropriate letter of invitation.

It happened that I was rather unwell at this time, so that I named
a more distant day for my visit than I should otherwise have done,
and after all, I did not start at the time fixed.  Whilst still
remaining at Beyrout I received this letter, which certainly
betrays no symptom of the pretensions to divine power which were
popularly attributed to the writer:-


"SIR,--I hope I shall be disappointed in seeing you on Wednesday,
for the late rains have rendered the river Damoor if not dangerous,
at least very unpleasant to pass for a person who has been lately
indisposed, for if the animal swims, you would be immerged in the
waters.  The weather will probably change after the 21st of the
moon, and after a couple of days the roads and the river will be
passable, therefore I shall expect you either Saturday or Monday.

"It will be a great satisfaction to me to have an opportunity of
inquiring after your mother, who was a sweet, lovely girl when I
knew her.
"Believe me, sir,
"Yours sincerely,
"HESTER LUCY STANHOPE."


Early one morning I started from Beyrout.  There are no regularly
established relays of horses in Syria, at least not in the line
which I took, and you therefore hire your cattle for the whole
journey, or at all events, for your journey to some large town.
Under these circumstances you have no occasion for a Tatar (whose
principal utility consists in his power to compel the supply of
horses).  In other respects, the mode of travelling through Syria
differs very little from that which I have described as prevailing
in Turkey.  I hired my horses and mules (for I had some of both)
for the whole of the journey from Beyrout to Jerusalem.  The owner
of the beasts (who had a couple of fellows under him) was the most
dignified member of my party; he was, indeed, a magnificent old
man, and was called Shereef, or "holy"--a title of honour which,
with the privilege of wearing the green turban, he well deserved,
not only from the blood of the Prophet that flowed in his veins,
but from the well-known sanctity of his life and the length of his
blessed beard.

Mysseri, of course, still travelled with me, but the Arabic was not
one of the seven languages which he spoke so perfectly, and I was
therefore obliged to hire another interpreter.  I had no difficulty
in finding a proper man for the purpose--one Demetrius, or, as he
was always called, Dthemetri, a native of Zante, who had been
tossed about by fortune in all directions.  He spoke the Arabic
very well, and communicated with me in Italian.  The man was a very
zealous member of the Greek Church.  He had been a tailor.  He was
as ugly as the devil, having a thoroughly Tatar countenance, which
expressed the agony of his body or mind, as the case might be, in
the most ludicrous manner imaginable.  He embellished the natural
caricature of his person by suspending about his neck and shoulders
and waist quantities of little bundles and parcels, which he
thought too valuable to be entrusted to the jerking of pack-
saddles.  The mule that fell to his lot on this journey every now
and then, forgetting that his rider was a saint, and remembering
that he was a tailor, took a quiet roll upon the ground, and
stretched his limbs calmly and lazily, like a good man awaiting a
sermon.  Dthemetri never got seriously hurt, but the subversion and
dislocation of his bundles made him for the moment a sad spectacle
of ruin, and when he regained his legs, his wrath with the mule
became very amusing.  He always addressed the beast in language
which implied that he, as a Christian and saint, had been
personally insulted and oppressed by a Mahometan mule.  Dthemetri,
however, on the whole, proved to be a most able and capital
servant.  I suspected him of now and then leading me out of my way
in order that he might have the opportunity of visiting the shrine
of a saint, and on one occasion, as you will see by-and-by, he was
induced by religious motives to commit a gross breach of duty; but
putting these pious faults out of the question (and they were
faults of the right side), he was always faithful and true to me.

I left Saide (the Sidon of ancient times) on my right, and about an
hour, I think, before sunset began to ascend one of the many low
hills of Lebanon.  On the summit before me was a broad, grey mass
of irregular building, which from its position, as well as from the
gloomy blankness of its walls, gave the idea of a neglected
fortress.  It had, in fact, been a convent of great size, and like
most of the religious houses in this part of the world, had been
made strong enough for opposing an inert resistance to any mere
casual band of assailants who might be unprovided with regular
means of attack:  this was the dwelling-place of the Chatham's
fiery granddaughter.

The aspect of the first court which I entered was such as to keep
one in the idea of having to do with a fortress rather than a mere
peaceable dwelling-place.  A number of fierce-looking and ill-clad
Albanian soldiers were hanging about the place, and striving to
bear the curse of tranquillity as well as they could:  two or three
of them, I think, were smoking their tchibouques, but the rest of
them were lying torpidly upon the flat stones, like the bodies of
departed brigands.  I rode on to an inner part of the building, and
at last, quitting my horses, was conducted through a doorway that
led me at once from an open court into an apartment on the ground
floor.  As I entered, an Oriental figure in male costume approached
me from the farther end of the room with many and profound bows,
but the growing shades of evening prevented me from distinguishing
the features of the personage who was receiving me with this solemn
welcome.  I had always, however, understood that Lady Hester
Stanhope wore the male attire, and I began to utter in English the
common civilities that seemed to be proper on the commencement of a
visit by an uninspired mortal to a renowned prophetess; but the
figure which I addressed only bowed so much the more, prostrating
itself almost to the ground, but speaking to me never a word.  I
feebly strived not to be outdone in gestures of respect; but
presently my bowing opponent saw the error under which I was
acting, and suddenly convinced me that, at all events, I was not
YET in the presence of a superhuman being, by declaring that he was
not "miladi," but was, in fact, nothing more or less god-like than
the poor doctor, who had brought his mistress's letter to Beyrout.

Her ladyship, in the right spirit of hospitality, now sent and
commanded me to repose for a while after the fatigues of my
journey, and to dine.

The cuisine was of the Oriental kind, which is highly artificial,
and I thought it very good.  I rejoiced too in the wine of the
Lebanon.

Soon after the ending of the dinner the doctor arrived with
miladi's compliments, and an intimation that she would he happy to
receive me if I were so disposed.  It had now grown dark, and the
rain was falling heavily, so that I got rather wet in following my
guide through the open courts that I had to pass in order to reach
the presence chamber.  At last I was ushered into a small
apartment, which was protected from the draughts of air passing
through the doorway by a folding screen; passing this, I came
alongside of a common European sofa, where sat the lady prophetess.
She rose from her seat very formally, spoke to me a few words of
welcome, pointed to a chair which was placed exactly opposite to
her sofa at a couple of yards' distance, and remained standing up
to the full of her majestic height, perfectly still and motionless,
until I had taken my appointed place; she then resumed her seat,
not packing herself up according to the mode of the Orientals, but
allowing her feet to rest on the floor or the footstool; at the
moment of seating herself she covered her lap with a mass of loose
white drapery which she held in her hand.  It occurred to me at the
time that she did this in order to avoid the awkwardness of sitting
in manifest trousers under the eye of an European, but I can hardly
fancy now that with her wilful nature she would have brooked such a
compromise as this.

The woman before me had exactly the person of a prophetess--not,
indeed, of the divine sibyl imagined by Domenichino, so sweetly
distracted betwixt love and mystery, but of a good business-like,
practical prophetess, long used to the exercise of her sacred
calling.  I have been told by those who knew Lady Hester Stanhope
in her youth, that any notion of a resemblance betwixt her and the
great Chatham must have been fanciful; but at the time of my seeing
her, the large commanding features of the gaunt woman, then sixty
years old or more, certainly reminded me of the statesman that lay
dying {15} in the House of Lords, according to Copley's picture.
Her face was of the most astonishing whiteness; {16} she wore a
very large turban, which seemed to be of pale cashmere shawls, so
disposed as to conceal the hair; her dress, from the chin down to
the point at which it was concealed by the drapery which she held
over her lap, was a mass of white linen loosely folding--an
ecclesiastical sort of affair, more like a surplice than any of
those blessed creations which our souls love under the names of
"dress" and "frock" and "boddice" and "collar" and "habit-shirt"
and sweet "chemisette."

Such was the outward seeming of the personage that sat before me,
and indeed she was almost bound by the fame of her actual
achievements, as well as by her sublime pretensions, to look a
little differently from the rest of womankind.  There had been
something of grandeur in her career.  After the death of Lady
Chatham, which happened in 1803, she lived under the roof of her
uncle, the second Pitt, and when he resumed the Government in 1804,
she became the dispenser of much patronage, and sole secretary of
state for the department of Treasury banquets.  Not having seen the
lady until late in her life, when she was fired with spiritual
ambition, I can hardly fancy that she could have performed her
political duties in the saloons of the Minister with much of
feminine sweetness and patience.  I am told, however, that she
managed matters very well indeed:  perhaps it was better for the
lofty-minded leader of the House to have his reception-rooms
guarded by this stately creature, than by a merely clever and
managing woman; it was fitting that the wholesome awe with which he
filled the minds of the country gentlemen should be aggravated by
the presence of his majestic niece.  But the end was approaching.
The sun of Austerlitz showed the Czar madly sliding his splendid
army like a weaver's shuttle from his right hand to his left, under
the very eyes--the deep, grey, watchful eyes of Napoleon; before
night came, the coalition was a vain thing--meet for history, and
the heart of its great author was crushed with grief when the
terrible tidings came to his ears.  In the bitterness of his
despair he cried out to his niece, and bid her, "ROLL UP THE MAP OF
EUROPE"; there was a little more of suffering, and at last, with
his swollen tongue (so they say) still muttering something for
England, he died by the noblest of all sorrows.

Lady Hester, meeting the calamity in her own fierce way, seems to
have scorned the poor island that had not enough of God's grace to
keep the "heaven-sent" Minister alive.  I can hardly tell why it
should be, but there is a longing for the East very commonly felt
by proud-hearted people when goaded by sorrow.  Lady Hester
Stanhope obeyed this impulse.  For some time, I believe, she was at
Constantinople, where her magnificence and near alliance to the
late Minister gained her great influence.  Afterwards she passed
into Syria.  The people of that country, excited by the
achievements of Sir Sidney Smith, had begun to imagine the
possibility of their land being occupied by the English, and many
of them looked upon Lady Hester as a princess who came to prepare
the way for the expected conquest.  I don't know it from her own
lips, or indeed from any certain authority, but I have been told
that she began her connection with the Bedouins by making a large
present of money (500 pounds it was said--immense in piastres) to
the Sheik whose authority was recognised in that part of the desert
which lies between Damascus and Palmyra.  The prestige created by
the rumours of her high and undefined rank, as well as of her
wealth and corresponding magnificence, was well sustained by her
imperious character and her dauntless bravery.  Her influence
increased.  I never heard anything satisfactory as to the real
extent or duration of her sway, but it seemed that for a time at
least she certainly exercised something like sovereignty amongst
the wandering tribes. {17}  And now that her earthly kingdom had
passed away she strove for spiritual power, and impiously dared, as
it was said, to boast some mystic union with the very God of very
God!

A couple of black slave girls came at a signal, and supplied their
mistress as well as myself with lighted tchibouques and coffee.

The custom of the East sanctions, and almost commands, some moments
of silence whilst you are inhaling the first few breaths of the
fragrant pipe.  The pause was broken, I think, by my lady, who
addressed to me some inquiries respecting my mother, and
particularly as to her marriage; but before I had communicated any
great amount of family facts, the spirit of the prophetess kindled
within her, and presently (though with all the skill of a woman of
the world) she shuffled away the subject of poor, dear
Somersetshire, and bounded onward into loftier spheres of thought.

My old acquaintance with some of "the twelve" enabled me to bear my
part (of course a very humble one) in a conversation relative to
occult science.  Milnes once spread a report, that every gang of
gipsies was found upon inquiry to have come last from a place to
the westward, and to be about to make the next move in an eastern
direction; either therefore they where to be all gathered together
towards the rising of the sun by the mysterious finger of
Providence, or else they were to revolve round the globe for ever
and ever:  both of these suppositions were highly gratifying,
because they were both marvellous; and though the story on which
they were founded plainly sprang from the inventive brain of a
poet, no one had ever been so odiously statistical as to attempt a
contradiction of it.  I now mentioned the story as a report to Lady
Hester Stanhope, and asked her if it were true.  I could not have
touched upon any imaginable subject more deeply interesting to my
hearer, more closely akin to her habitual train of thinking.  She
immediately threw off all the restraint belonging to an interview
with a stranger; and when she had received a few more similar
proofs of my aptness for the marvellous, she went so far as to say
that she would adopt me as her eleve in occult science.

For hours and hours this wondrous white woman poured forth her
speech, for the most part concerning sacred and profane mysteries;
but every now and then she would stay her lofty flight and swoop
down upon the world again.  Whenever this happened I was interested
in her conversation.

She adverted more than once to the period of her lost sway amongst
the Arabs, and mentioned some of the circumstances that aided her
in obtaining influence with the wandering tribes.  The Bedouin, so
often engaged in irregular warfare, strains his eyes to the horizon
in search of a coming enemy just as habitually as the sailor keeps
his "bright lookout" for a strange sail.  In the absence of
telescopes a far-reaching sight is highly valued, and Lady Hester
possessed this quality to an extraordinary degree.  She told me
that on one occasion, when there was good reason to expect a
hostile attack, great excitement was felt in the camp by the report
of a far-seeing Arab, who declared that he could just distinguish
some moving objects upon the very farthest point within the reach
of his eyes.  Lady Hester was consulted, and she instantly assured
her comrades in arms that there were indeed a number of horses
within sight, but that they were without riders.  The assertion
proved to be correct, and from that time forth her superiority over
all others in respect of far sight remained undisputed.

Lady Hester related to me this other anecdote of her Arab life.  It
was when the heroic qualities of the Englishwoman were just
beginning to be felt amongst the people of the desert, that she was
marching one day, along with the forces of the tribe to which she
had allied herself.  She perceived that preparations for an
engagement were going on, and upon her making inquiry as to the
cause, the Sheik at first affected mystery and concealment, but at
last confessed that war had been declared against his tribe on
account of its alliance with the English princess, and that they
were now unfortunately about to be attacked by a very superior
force.  He made it appear that Lady Hester was the sole cause of
hostility betwixt his tribe and the impending enemy, and that his
sacred duty of protecting the Englishwoman whom he had admitted as
his guest was the only obstacle which prevented an amicable
arrangement of the dispute.  The Sheik hinted that his tribe was
likely to sustain an almost overwhelming blow, but at the same time
declared, that no fear of the consequences, however terrible to him
and his whole people, should induce him to dream of abandoning his
illustrious guest.  The heroine instantly took her part:  it was
not for her to be a source of danger to her friends, but rather to
her enemies, so she resolved to turn away from the people, and
trust for help to none save only her haughty self.  The Sheiks
affected to dissuade her from so rash a course, and fairly told her
that although they (having been freed from her presence) would be
able to make good terms for themselves, yet that there were no
means of allaying the hostility felt towards her, and that the
whole face of the desert would be swept by the horsemen of her
enemies so carefully, as to make her escape into other districts
almost impossible.  The brave woman was not to be moved by terrors
of this kind, and bidding farewell to the tribe which had honoured
and protected her, she turned her horse's head and rode straight
away from them, without friend or follower.  Hours had elapsed, and
for some time she had been alone in the centre of the round
horizon, when her quick eye perceived some horsemen in the
distance.  The party came nearer and nearer; soon it was plain that
they were making towards her, and presently some hundreds of
Bedouins, fully armed, galloped up to her, ferociously shouting,
and apparently intending to take her life at the instant with their
pointed spears.  Her face at the time was covered with the yashmak,
according to Eastern usage, but at the moment when the foremost of
the horsemen had all but reached her with their spears, she stood
up in her stirrups, withdrew the yashmak that veiled the terrors of
her countenance, waved her arm slowly and disdainfully, and cried
out with a loud voice "Avaunt!" {18}  The horsemen recoiled from
her glance, but not in terror.  The threatening yells of the
assailants were suddenly changed for loud shouts of joy and
admiration at the bravery of the stately Englishwoman, and festive
gunshots were fired on all sides around her honoured head.  The
truth was, that the party belonged to the tribe with which she had
allied herself, and that the threatened attack as well as the
pretended apprehension of an engagement had been contrived for the
mere purpose of testing her courage.  The day ended in a great
feast prepared to do honour to the heroine, and from that time her
power over the minds of the people grew rapidly.  Lady Hester
related this story with great spirit, and I recollect that she put
up her yashmak for a moment in order to give me a better idea of
the effect which she produced by suddenly revealing the awfulness
of her countenance.

With respect to her then present mode of life, Lady Hester informed
me, that for her sin she had subjected herself during many years to
severe penance, and that her self-denial had not been without its
reward.  "Vain and false," said she, "is all the pretended
knowledge of the Europeans--their doctors will tell you that the
drinking of milk gives yellowness to the complexion; milk is my
only food, and you see if my face be not white."  Her abstinence
from food intellectual was carried as far as her physical fasting.
She never, she said, looked upon a book or a newspaper, but trusted
alone to the stars for her sublime knowledge; she usually passed
the nights in communing with these heavenly teachers, and lay at
rest during the daytime.  She spoke with great contempt of the
frivolity and benighted ignorance of the modern Europeans, and
mentioned in proof of this, that they were not only untaught in
astrology, but were unacquainted with the common and every-day
phenomena produced by magic art.  She spoke as if she would make me
understand that all sorcerous spells were completely at her
command, but that the exercise of such powers would be derogatory
to her high rank in the heavenly kingdom.  She said that the spell
by which the face of an absent person is thrown upon a mirror was
within the reach of the humblest and most contemptible magicians,
but that the practice of such-like arts was unholy as well as
vulgar.

We spoke of the bending twig by which, it is said, precious metals
may be discovered.  In relation to this, the prophetess told me a
story rather against herself, and inconsistent with the notion of
her being perfect in her science; but I think that she mentioned
the facts as having happened before the time at which she attained
to the great spiritual authority which she now arrogated.  She told
me that vast treasures were known to exist in a situation which she
mentioned, if I rightly remember, as being near Suez; that
Napoleon, profanely brave, thrust his arm into the cave containing
the coveted gold, and that instantly his flesh became palsied, but
the youthful hero (for she said he was great in his generation) was
not to be thus daunted; he fell back characteristically upon his
brazen resources, and ordered up his artillery; but man could not
strive with demons, and Napoleon was foiled.  In after years came
Ibrahim Pasha, with heavy guns, and wicked spells to boot, but the
infernal guardians of the treasure were too strong for him.  It was
after this that Lady Hester passed by the spot, and she described
with animated gesture the force and energy with which the divining
twig had suddenly leaped in her hands.  She ordered excavations,
and no demons opposed her enterprise; the vast chest in which the
treasure had been deposited was at length discovered, but lo and
behold, it was full of pebbles!  She said, however, that the times
were approaching in which the hidden treasures of the earth would
become available to those who had true knowledge.

Speaking of Ibrahim Pasha, Lady Hester said that he was a bold, bad
man, and was possessed of some of those common and wicked magical
arts upon which she looked down with so much contempt.  She said,
for instance, that Ibrahim's life was charmed against balls and
steel, and that after a battle he loosened the folds of his shawl
and shook out the bullets like dust.

It seems that the St. Simonians once made overtures to Lady Hester.
She told me that the Pere Enfantin (the chief of the sect) had sent
her a service of plate, but that she had declined to receive it.
She delivered a prediction as to the probability of the St.
Simonians finding the "mystic mother," and this she did in a way
which would amuse you.  Unfortunately I am not at liberty to
mention this part of the woman's prophecies; why, I cannot tell,
but so it is, that she bound me to eternal secrecy.

Lady Hester told me that since her residence at Djoun she had been
attacked by a terrible illness, which rendered her for a long time
perfectly helpless; all her attendants fled, and left her to
perish.  Whilst she lay thus alone, and quite unable to rise,
robbers came and carried away her property. {19}  She told me that
they actually unroofed a great part of the building, and employed
engines with pulleys, for the purpose of hoisting out such of her
valuables as were too bulky to pass through doors.  It would seem
that before this catastrophe Lady Hester had been rich in the
possession of Eastern luxuries; for she told me, that when the
chiefs of the Ottoman force took refuge with her after the fall of
Acre, they brought their wives also in great numbers.  To all of
these Lady Hester, as she said, presented magnificent dresses; but
her generosity occasioned strife only instead of gratitude, for
every woman who fancied her present less splendid than that of
another with equal or less pretension, became absolutely furious:
all these audacious guests had now been got rid of, but the
Albanian soldiers, who had taken refuge with Lady Hester at the
same time, still remained under her protection.

In truth, this half-ruined convent, guarded by the proud heart of
an English gentlewoman, was the only spot throughout all Syria and
Palestine in which the will of Mehemet Ali and his fierce
lieutenant was not the law.  More than once had the Pasha of Egypt
commanded that Ibrahim should have the Albanians delivered up to
him, but this white woman of the mountain (grown classical not by
books, but by very pride) answered only with a disdainful
invitation to "come and take them."  Whether it was that Ibrahim
was acted upon by any superstitious dread of interfering with the
prophetess (a notion not at all incompatible with his character as
an able Oriental commander), or that he feared the ridicule of
putting himself in collision with a gentlewoman, he certainly never
ventured to attack the sanctuary, and so long as the Chatham's
granddaughter breathed a breath of life there was always this one
hillock, and that too in the midst of a most populous district,
which stood out, and kept its freedom.  Mehemet Ali used to say, I
am told, that the Englishwoman had given him more trouble than all
the insurgent people of Syria and Palestine.

The prophetess announced to me that we were upon the eve of a
stupendous convulsion, which would destroy the then recognised
value of all property upon earth; and declaring that those only who
should be in the East at the time of the great change could hope
for greatness in the new life that was now close at hand, she
advised me, whilst there was yet time, to dispose of my property in
poor frail England, and gain a station in Asia.  She told me that,
after leaving her, I should go into Egypt, but that in a little
while I should return into Syria.  I secretly smiled at this last
prophecy as a "bad shot," for I had fully determined after visiting
the Pyramids to take ship from Alexandria for Greece.  But men
struggle vainly in the meshes of their destiny.  The unbelieved
Cassandra was right after all; the plague came, and the necessity
of avoiding the quarantine, to which I should have been subjected
if I had sailed from Alexandria, forced me to alter my route.  I
went down into Egypt, and stayed there for a time, and then crossed
the desert once more, and came back to the mountains of the
Lebanon, exactly as the prophetess had foretold.

Lady Hester talked to me long and earnestly on the subject of
religion, announcing that the Messiah was yet to come.  She strived
to impress me with the vanity and the falseness of all European
creeds, as well as with a sense of her own spiritual greatness:
throughout her conversation upon these high topics she carefully
insinuated, without actually asserting, her heavenly rank.

Amongst other much more marvellous powers, the lady claimed to have
one which most women, I fancy, possess namely, that of reading
men's characters in their faces.  She examined the line of my
features very attentively, and told me the result, which, however,
I mean to keep hidden.

One favoured subject of discourse was that of  "race," upon which
she was very diffuse, and yet rather mysterious.  She set great
value upon the ancient French {20} (not Norman blood, for that she
vilified), but did not at all appreciate that which we call in this
country "an old family."  She had a vast idea of the Cornish miners
on account of their race, and said, if she chose, she could give me
the means of rousing them to the most tremendous enthusiasm.

Such are the topics on which the lady mainly conversed, but very
often she would descend to more worldly chat, and then she was no
longer the prophetess, but the sort of woman that you sometimes
see, I am told, in London drawing-rooms--cool, decisive in manner,
unsparing of enemies, full of audacious fun, and saying the
downright things that the sheepish society around her is afraid to
utter.  I am told that Lady Hester was in her youth a capital
mimic, and she showed me that not all the queenly dulness to which
she had condemned herself, not all her fasting and solitude, had
destroyed this terrible power.  The first whom she crucified in my
presence was poor Lord Byron.  She had seen him, it appeared, I
know not where, soon after his arrival in the East, and was vastly
amused at his little affectations.  He had picked up a few
sentences of the Romantic, with which he affected to give orders to
his Greek servant.  I can't tell whether Lady Hester's mimicry of
the bard was at all close, but it was amusing; she attributed to
him a curiously coxcombical lisp.

Another person whose style of speaking the lady took off very
amusingly was one who would scarcely object to suffer by the side
of Lord Byron--I mean Lamartine, who had visited her in the course
of his travels.  The peculiarity which attracted her ridicule was
an over-refinement of manner:  according to my lady's imitation of
Lamartine (I have never seen him myself), he had none of the
violent grimace of his countrymen, and not even their usual way of
talking, but rather bore himself mincingly, like the humbler sort
of English dandy. {21}

Lady Hester seems to have heartily despised everything approaching
to exquisiteness.  She told me, by-the-bye (and her opinion upon
that subject is worth having), that a downright manner, amounting
even to brusqueness, is more effective than any other with the
Oriental; and that amongst the English of all ranks and all classes
there is no man so attractive to the Orientals, no man who can
negotiate with them half so effectively, as a good, honest, open-
hearted, and positive naval officer of the old school.

I have told you, I think, that Lady Hester could deal fiercely with
those she hated.  One man above all others (he is now uprooted from
society, and cast away for ever) she blasted with her wrath.  You
would have thought that in the scornfulness of her nature she must
have sprung upon her foe with more of fierceness than of skill; but
this was not so, for with all the force and vehemence of her
invective she displayed a sober, patient, and minute attention to
the details of vituperation, which contributed to its success a
thousand times more than mere violence.

During the hours that this sort of conversation, or rather
discourse, was going on our tchibouques were from time to time
replenished, and the lady as well as I continued to smoke with
little or no intermission till the interview ended.  I think that
the fragrant fumes of the latakiah must have helped to keep me on
my good behaviour as a patient disciple of the prophetess.

It was not till after midnight that my visit for the evening came
to an end.  When I quitted my seat the lady rose and stood up in
the same formal attitude (almost that of a soldier in a state of
"attention") which she had assumed at my entrance; at the same time
she let go the drapery which she had held over her lap whilst
sitting and allowed it to fall to the ground.

The next morning after breakfast I was visited by my lady's
secretary--the only European, except the doctor, whom she retained
in her household.  This secretary, like the doctor, was Italian,
but he preserved more signs of European dress and European
pretensions than his medical fellow-slave.  He spoke little or no
English, though he wrote it pretty well, having been formerly
employed in a mercantile house connected with England.  The poor
fellow was in an unhappy state of mind.  In order to make you
understand the extent of his spiritual anxieties, I ought to have
told you that the doctor {22} (who had sunk into the complete
Asiatic, and had condescended accordingly to the performance of
even menial services) had adopted the common faith of all the
neighbouring people, and had become a firm and happy believer in
the divine power of his mistress.  Not so the secretary.  When I
had strolled with him to a distance from the building, which
rendered him safe from being overheard by human ears, he told me in
a hollow voice, trembling with emotion, that there were times at
which he doubted the divinity of  "miledi."  I said nothing to
encourage the poor fellow in that frightful state of scepticism
which, if indulged, might end in positive infidelity.  I found that
her ladyship had rather arbitrarily abridged the amusements of her
secretary, forbidding him from shooting small birds on the
mountain-side.  This oppression had arouses in him a spirit of
inquiry that might end fatally, perhaps for himself, perhaps for
the "religion of the place."

The secretary told me that his mistress was greatly disliked by the
surrounding people, whom she oppressed by her exactions, and the
truth of this statement was borne out by the way in which my lady
spoke to me of her neighbours.  But in Eastern countries hate and
veneration are very commonly felt for the same object, and the
general belief in the superhuman power of this wonderful white
lady, her resolute and imperious character, and above all, perhaps,
her fierce Albanians (not backward to obey an order for the sacking
of a village), inspired sincere respect amongst the surrounding
inhabitants.  Now the being "respected" amongst Orientals is not an
empty or merely honorary distinction, but carries with it a clear
right to take your neighbour's corn, his cattle, his eggs, and his
honey, and almost anything that is his, except his wives.  This law
was acted upon by the princess of Djoun, and her establishment was
supplied by contributions apportioned amongst the nearest of the
villages.

I understood that the Albanians (restrained, I suppose, by the
dread of being delivered up to Ibrahim) had not given any very
troublesome proofs of their unruly natures.  The secretary told me
that their rations, including a small allowance of coffee and
tobacco, were served out to them with tolerable regularity.

I asked the secretary how Lady Hester was off for horses, and said
that I would take a look at the stable.  The man did not raise any
opposition to my proposal, and affected no mystery about the
matter, but said that the only two steeds which then belonged to
her ladyship were of a very humble sort.  This answer, and a storm
of rain then beginning to descend, prevented me at the time from
undertaking my journey to the stable, which was at some distance
from the part of the building in which I was quartered, and I don't
know that I ever thought of the matter afterwards until my return
to England, when I saw Lamartine's eye-witnessing account of the
horse saddled by the hands of his Maker!

When I returned to my apartment (which, as my hostess told me, was
the only one in the whole building that kept out the rain) her
ladyship sent to say that she would be glad to receive me again.  I
was rather surprised at this, for I had understood that she reposed
during the day, and it was now little later than noon.  "Really,"
said she, when I had taken my seat and my pipe, "we were together
for hours last night, and still I have heard nothing at all of my
old friends; now DO tell me something of your dear mother and her
sister; I never knew your father--it was after I left Burton
Pynsent that your mother married."  I began to make slow answer,
but my questioner soon went off again to topics more sublime, so
that this second interview, which lasted two or three hours, was
occupied by the same sort of varied discourse as that which I have
been describing.

In the course of the afternoon the captain of an English man-of-war
arrived at Djoun, and her ladyship determined to receive him for
the same reason as that which had induced her to allow my visit,
namely, an early intimacy with his family.  I and the new visitor,
who was a pleasant, amusing person, dined together, and we were
afterwards invited to the presence of my lady, with whom we sat
smoking and talking till midnight.  The conversation turned
chiefly, I think, upon magical science.  I had determined to be off
at an early hour the next morning, and so at the end of this
interview I bade my lady farewell.  With her parting words she once
more advised me to abandon Europe and seek my reward in the East,
and she urged me too to give the like counsels to my father, and
tell him that "SHE HAD SAID IT."

Lady Hester's unholy claim to supremacy in the spiritual kingdom
was, no doubt, the suggestion of fierce and inordinate pride most
perilously akin to madness, but I am quite sure that the mind of
the woman was too strong to be thoroughly overcome by even this
potent feeling.  I plainly saw that she was not an unhesitating
follower of her own system, and I even fancied that I could
distinguish the brief moments during which she contrived to believe
in herself, from those long and less happy intervals in which her
own reason was too strong for her.

As for the lady's faith in astrology and magic science, you are not
for a moment to suppose that this implied any aberration of
intellect.  She believed these things in common with those around
her, for she seldom spoke to anybody except crazy old dervishes,
who received her alms, and fostered her extravagancies, and even
when (as on the occasion of my visit) she was brought into contact
with a person entertaining different notions, she still remained
uncontradicted.  This entourage and the habit of fasting from books
and newspapers were quite enough to make her a facile recipient of
any marvellous story.

I think that in England we are scarcely sufficiently conscious of
the great debt we owe to the wise and watchful press which presides
over the formation of our opinions, and which brings about this
splendid result, namely, that in matters of belief the humblest of
us are lifted up to the level of the most sagacious, so that really
a simple cornet in the Blues is no more likely to entertain a
foolish belief about ghosts or witchcraft, or any other
supernatural topic, than the Lord High Chancellor or the Leader of
the House of Commons.  How different is the intellectual regime of
Eastern countries!  In Syria and Palestine and Egypt you might as
well dispute the efficacy of grass or grain as of magic.  There is
no controversy about the matter.  The effect of this, the unanimous
belief of an ignorant people upon the mind of a stranger, is
extremely curious, and well worth noticing.  A man coming freshly
from Europe is at first proof against the nonsense with which he is
assailed, but often it happens that after a little while the social
atmosphere in which he lives will begin to infect him, and if he
has been unaccustomed to the cunning of fence by which Reason
prepares the means of guarding herself against fallacy, he will
yield himself at last to the faith of those around him, and this he
will do by sympathy, it would seem, rather than from conviction.  I
have been much interested in observing that the mere "practical
man," however skilful and shrewd in his own way, has not the kind
of power that will enable him to resist the gradual impression made
upon his mind by the common opinion of those whom he sees and hears
from day to day.  Even amongst the English (whose good sense and
sound religious knowledge would be likely to guard them from error)
I have known the calculating merchant, the inquisitive traveller,
and the post-captain, with his bright, wakeful eye of command--I
have known all these surrender themselves to the REALLY magic-like
influence of other people's minds.  Their language at first is that
they are "staggered," leading you by that expression to suppose
that they had been witnesses to some phenomenon, which it was very
difficult to account for otherwise than by supernatural causes; but
when I have questioned further, I have always found that these
"staggering" wonders were not even specious enough to be looked
upon as good "tricks."  A man in England who gained his whole
livelihood as a conjurer would soon be starved to death if he could
perform no better miracles than those which are wrought with so
much effect in Syria and Egypt; SOMETIMES, no doubt, a magician
will make a good hit (Sir John once said a "good thing"), but all
such successes range, of course, under the head of mere "tentative
miracles," as distinguished by the strong-brained Paley.



CHAPTER IX--THE SANCTUARY



I crossed the plain of Esdraelon and entered amongst the hills of
beautiful Galilee.  It was at sunset that my path brought me
sharply round into the gorge of a little valley, and close upon a
grey mass of dwellings that lay happily nestled in the lap of the
mountain.  There was one only shining point still touched with the
light of the sun, who had set for all besides; a brave sign this to
"holy" Shereef and the rest of my Moslem men, for the one
glittering summit was the head of a minaret, and the rest of the
seeming village that had veiled itself so meekly under the shades
of evening was Christian Nazareth!

Within the precincts of the Latin convent in which I was quartered
there stands the great Catholic church which encloses the
sanctuary, the dwelling of the blessed Virgin. {23}  This is a
grotto of about ten feet either way, forming a little chapel or
recess, to which you descend by steps.  It is decorated with
splendour.  On the left hand a column of granite hangs from the top
of the grotto to within a few feet of the ground; immediately
beneath it is another column of the same size, which rises from the
ground as if to meet the one above; but between this and the
suspended pillar there is an interval of more than a foot; these
fragments once formed a single column, against which the angel
leant when he spoke and told to Mary the mystery of her awful
blessedness.  Hard by, near the altar, the holy Virgin was
kneeling.

I had been journeying (cheerily indeed, for the voices of my
followers were ever within my hearing, but yet), as it were, in
solitude, for I had no comrade to whet the edge of my reason, or
wake me from my noonday dreams.  I was left all alone to be taught
and swayed by the beautiful circumstances of Palestine travelling--
by the clime, and the land, and the name of the land, with all its
mighty import; by the glittering freshness of the sward, and the
abounding masses of flowers that furnished my sumptuous pathway; by
the bracing and fragrant air that seemed to poise me in my saddle,
and to lift me along as a planet appointed to glide through space.

And the end of my journey was Nazareth, the home of the blessed
Virgin!  In the first dawn of my manhood the old painters of Italy
had taught me their dangerous worship of the beauty that is more
than mortal, but those images all seemed shadowy now, and floated
before me so dimly, the one overcasting the other, that they left
me no one sweet idol on which I could look and look again and say,
"Maria mia!"  Yet they left me more than an idol; they left me (for
to them I am wont to trace it) a faint apprehension of beauty not
compassed with lines and shadows; they touched me (forgive, proud
Marie of Anjou!)--they touched me with a faith in loveliness
transcending mortal shapes.

I came to Nazareth, and was led from the convent to the sanctuary.
Long fasting will sometimes heat my brain and draw me away out of
the world--will disturb my judgment, confuse my notions of right
and wrong, and weaken my power of choosing the right:  I had fasted
perhaps too long, for I was fevered with the zeal of an insane
devotion to the heavenly queen of Christendom.  But I knew the
feebleness of this gentle malady, and knew how easily my watchful
reason, if ever so slightly provoked, would drag me back to life.
Let there but come one chilling breath of the outer world, and all
this loving piety would cower and fly before the sound of my own
bitter laugh.  And so as I went I trod tenderly, not looking to the
right nor to the left, but bending my eyes to the ground.

The attending friar served me well; he led me down quietly and all
but silently to the Virgin's home.  The mystic air was so burnt
with the consuming flames of the altar, and so laden with incense,
that my chest laboured strongly, and heaved with luscious pain.
There--there with beating heart the Virgin knelt and listened.  I
strived to grasp and hold with my riveted eyes some one of the
feigned Madonnas, but of all the heaven-lit faces imagined by men
there was none that would abide with me in this the very sanctuary.
Impatient of vacancy, I grew madly strong against Nature, and if by
some awful spell, some impious rite, I could--Oh most sweet
Religion, that bid me fear God, and be pious, and yet not cease
from loving!  Religion and gracious custom commanded me that I fall
down loyally and kiss the rock that blessed Mary pressed.  With a
half consciousness, with the semblance of a thrilling hope that I
was plunging deep, deep into my first knowledge of some most holy
mystery, or of some new rapturous and daring sin, I knelt, and
bowed down my face till I met the smooth rock with my lips.  One
moment--one moment my heart, or some old pagan demon within me,
woke up, and fiercely bounded; my bosom was lifted, and swung, as
though I had touched her warm robe.  One moment, one more, and then
the fever had left me.  I rose from my knees.  I felt hopelessly
sane.  The mere world reappeared.  My good old monk was there,
dangling his key with listless patience, and as he guided me from
the church, and talked of the refectory and the coming repast, I
listened to his words with some attention and pleasure.



CHAPTER X--THE MONKS OF PALESTINE



Whenever you come back to me from Palestine we will find some
"golden wine" {24} of Lebanon, that we may celebrate with apt
libations the monks of the Holy Land, and though the poor fellows
be theoretically "dead to the world," we will drink to every man of
them a good long life, and a merry one!  Graceless is the traveller
who forgets his obligations to these saints upon earth; little love
has he for merry Christendom if he has not rejoiced with great joy
to find in the very midst of water-drinking infidels those lowly
monasteries, in which the blessed juice of the grape is quaffed in
peace.  Ay! ay! we will fill our glasses till they look like cups
of amber, and drink profoundly to our gracious hosts in Palestine.

Christianity permits, and sanctions, the drinking of wine, and of
all the holy brethren in Palestine there are none who hold fast to
this gladsome rite so strenuously as the monks of Damascus; not
that they are more zealous Christians than the rest of their
fellows in the Holy Land, but that they have better wine.  Whilst I
was at Damascus I had my quarters at the Franciscan convent there,
and very soon after my arrival I asked one of the monks to let me
know something of the spots that deserved to be seen.  I made my
inquiry in reference to the associations with which the city had
been hallowed by the sojourn and adventures of St. Paul.  "There is
nothing in all Damascus," said the good man, "half so well worth
seeing as our cellars"; and forthwith he invited me to go, see, and
admire the long range of liquid treasure that he and his brethren
had laid up for themselves on earth.  And these I soon found were
not as the treasures of the miser, that lie in unprofitable disuse,
for day by day, and hour by hour, the golden juice ascended from
the dark recesses of the cellar to the uppermost brains of the
friars.  Dear old fellows! in the midst of that solemn land their
Christian laughter rang loudly and merrily, their eyes kept
flashing with joyous bonfires, and their heavy woollen petticoats
could no more weigh down the springiness of their paces, than the
filmy gauze of a danseuse can clog her bounding step.

You would be likely enough to fancy that these monastics are men
who have retired to the sacred sites of Palestine from an
enthusiastic longing to devote themselves to the exercise of
religion in the midst of the very land on which its first seeds
were cast; and this is partially, at least, the case with the monks
of the Greek Church, but it is not with enthusiasts that the
Catholic establishments are filled.  The monks of the Latin
convents are chiefly persons of the peasant class from Italy and
Spain, who have been handed over to these remote asylums by order
of their ecclesiastical superiors, and can no more account for
their being in the Holy Land, than men of marching regiments can
explain why they are in "stupid quarters."  I believe that these
monks are for the most part well conducted men, punctual in their
ceremonial duties, and altogether humble-minded Christians.  Their
humility is not at all misplaced, for you see at a glance (poor
fellows!) that they belong to the LAG REMOVE of the human race.  If
the taking of the cowl does not imply a complete renouncement of
the world, it is at least (in these days) a thorough farewell to
every kind of useful and entertaining knowledge, and accordingly
the low bestial brow and the animal caste of those almost Bourbon
features show plainly enough that all the intellectual vanities of
life have been really and truly abandoned.  But it is hard to
quench altogether the spirit of inquiry that stirs in the human
breast, and accordingly these monks inquire--they are ALWAYS
inquiring inquiring for "news"!  Poor fellows! they could scarcely
have yielded themselves to the sway of any passion more difficult
of gratification, for they have no means of communicating with the
busy world except through European travellers; and these, in
consequence I suppose of that restlessness and irritability that
generally haunt their wanderings, seem to have always avoided the
bore of giving any information to their hosts.  As for me, I am
more patient and good-natured, and when I found that the kind monks
who gathered round me at Nazareth were longing to know the real
truth about the General Bonaparte who had recoiled from the siege
of Acre, I softened my heart down to the good humour of Herodotus,
and calmly began to "sing history," telling my eager hearers of the
French Empire and the greatness of its glory, and of Waterloo and
the fall of Napoleon!  Now my story of this marvellous ignorance on
the part of the poor monks is one upon which (though depending on
my own testimony) I look "with considerable suspicion."  It is
quite true (how silly it would be to INVENT anything so witless!),
and yet I think I could satisfy the mind of a "reasonable man" that
it is false.  Many of the older monks must have been in Europe at
the time when the Italy and the Spain from which they came were in
act of taking their French lessons, or had parted so lately with
their teachers, that not to know of "the Emperor" was impossible,
and these men could scarcely, therefore, have failed to bring with
them some tidings of Napoleon's career.  Yet I say that that which
I have written is true--the one who believes because I have said it
will be right (she always is), whilst poor Mr. "reasonable man,"
who is convinced by the weight of my argument, will be completely
deceived.

In Spanish politics, however, the monks are better instructed.  The
revenues of the monasteries, which had been principally supplied by
the bounty of their most Catholic majesties, have been withheld
since Ferdinand's death, and the interests of these establishments
being thus closely involved in the destinies of Spain, it is not
wonderful that the brethren should be a little more knowing in
Spanish affairs than in other branches of history.  Besides, a
large proportion of the monks were natives of the Peninsula.  To
these, I remember, Mysseri's familiarity with the Spanish language
and character was a source of immense delight; they were always
gathering around him, and it seemed to me that they treasured like
gold the few Castilian words which he deigned to spare them.

The monks do a world of good in their way; and there can be no
doubting that previously to the arrival of Bishop Alexander, with
his numerous young family and his pretty English nursemaids, they
were the chief propagandists of Christianity in Palestine.  My old
friends of the Franciscan convent at Jerusalem some time since gave
proof of their goodness by delivering themselves up to the peril of
death for the sake of duty.  When I was their guest they were forty
I believe in number, and I don't recollect that there was one of
them whom I should have looked upon as a desirable life-holder of
any property to which I might be entitled in expectancy.  Yet these
forty were reduced in a few days to nineteen.  The plague was the
messenger that summoned them to a taste of real death; but the
circumstances under which they perished are rather curious; and
though I have no authority for the story except an Italian
newspaper, I harbour no doubt of its truth, for the facts were
detailed with minuteness, and strictly corresponded with all that I
knew of the poor fellows to whom they related.

It was about three months after the time of my leaving Jerusalem
that the plague set his spotted foot on the Holy City.  The monks
felt great alarm; they did not shrink from their duty, but for its
performance they chose a plan most sadly well fitted for bringing
down upon them the very death which they were striving to ward off.
They imagined themselves almost safe so long as they remained
within their walls; but then it was quite needful that the Catholic
Christians of the place, who had always looked to the convent for
the supply of their spiritual wants, should receive the aids of
religion in the hour of death.  A single monk therefore was chosen,
either by lot or by some other fair appeal to destiny.  Being thus
singled out, he was to go forth into the plague-stricken city, and
to perform with exactness his priestly duties; then he was to
return, not to the interior of the convent, for fear of infecting
his brethren, but to a detached building (which I remember)
belonging to the establishment, but at some little distance from
the inhabited rooms.  He was provided with a bell, and at a certain
hour in the morning he was ordered to ring it, IF HE COULD; but if
no sound was heard at the appointed time, then knew his brethren
that he was either delirious or dead, and another martyr was sent
forth to take his place.  In this way twenty-one of the monks were
carried off.  One cannot well fail to admire the steadiness with
which the dismal scheme was carried through; but if there be any
truth in the notion that disease may be invited by a frightening
imagination, it is difficult to conceive a more dangerous plan than
that which was chosen by these poor fellows.  The anxiety with
which they must have expected each day the sound of the bell, the
silence that reigned instead of it, and then the drawing of the
lots (the odds against death being one point lower than yesterday),
and the going forth of the newly doomed man--all this must have
widened the gulf that opens to the shades below.  When his victim
had already suffered so much of mental torture, it was but easy
work for big bullying pestilence to follow a forlorn monk from the
beds of the dying, and wrench away his life from him as he lay all
alone in an outhouse.

In most, I believe in all, of the Holy Land convents there are two
personages so strangely raised above their brethren in all that
dignifies humanity, that their bearing the same habit, their
dwelling under the same roof, their worshipping the same God
(consistent as all this is with the spirit of their religion), yet
strikes the mind with a sense of wondrous incongruity; the men I
speak of are the "Padre Superiore," and the "Padre Missionario."
The former is the supreme and absolute governor of the
establishment over which he is appointed to rule, the latter is
entrusted with the more active of the spiritual duties attaching to
the Pilgrim Church.  He is the shepherd of the good Catholic flock,
whose pasture is prepared in the midst of Mussulmans and
schismatics; he keeps the light of the true faith ever vividly
before their eyes, reproves their vices, supports them in their
good resolves, consoles them in their afflictions, and teaches them
to hate the Greek Church.  Such are his labours, and you may
conceive that great tact must be needed for conducting with success
the spiritual interests of the church under circumstances so odd as
those which surround it in Palestine.

But the position of the Padre Superiore is still more delicate; he
is almost unceasingly in treaty with the powers that be, and the
worldly prosperity of the establishment over which he presides is
in great measure dependent upon the extent of diplomatic skill
which he can employ in its favour.  I know not from what class of
churchmen these personages are chosen, for there is a mystery
attending their origin and the circumstance of their being
stationed in these convents, which Rome does not suffer to be
penetrated.  I have heard it said that they are men of great note,
and, perhaps, of too high ambition in the Catholic Hierarchy, who
having fallen under the grave censure of the Church, are banished
for fixed periods to these distant monasteries.  I believe that the
term during which they are condemned to remain in the Holy Land is
from eight to twelve years.  By the natives of the country, as well
as by the rest of the brethren, they are looked upon as superior
beings; and rightly too, for Nature seems to have crowned them in
her own true way.

The chief of the Jerusalem convent was a noble creature; his
worldly and spiritual authority seemed to have surrounded him, as
it were, with a kind of "court," and the manly gracefulness of his
bearing did honour to the throne which he filled.  There were no
lords of the bedchamber, and no gold sticks and stones in waiting,
yet everybody who approached him looked as though he were being
"presented"; every interview which he granted wore the air of an
"audience"; the brethren as often as they came near bowed low and
kissed his hand; and if he went out, the Catholics of the place
that hovered about the convent would crowd around him with devout
affection, and almost scramble for the blessing which his touch
could give.  He bore his honours all serenely, as though calmly
conscious of his power to "bind and to loose."



CHAPTER XI--GALILEE



Neither old "sacred" {25} himself, nor any of his helpers, knew the
road which I meant to take from Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee and
from thence to Jerusalem, so I was forced to add another to my
party by hiring a guide.  The associations of Nazareth, as well as
my kind feeling towards the hospitable monks, whose guest I had
been, inclined me to set at naught the advice which I had received
against employing Christians.  I accordingly engaged a lithe,
active young Nazarene, who was recommended to me by the monks, and
who affected to be familiar with the line of country through which
I intended to pass.  My disregard of the popular prejudices against
Christians was not justified in this particular instance by the
result of my choice.  This you will see by-and-by.

I passed by Cana and the house in which the water had been turned
into wine; I came to the field in which our Saviour had rebuked the
Scotch Sabbath-keepers of that period, by suffering His disciples
to pluck corn on the Lord's day; I rode over the ground on which
the fainting multitude had been fed, and they showed me some
massive fragments--the relics, they said, of that wondrous banquet,
now turned into stone.  The petrifaction was most complete.

I ascended the height on which our Lord was standing when He
wrought the miracle.  The hill was lofty enough to show me the
fairness of the land on all sides, but I have an ancient love for
the mere features of a lake, and so forgetting all else when I
reached the summit, I looked away eagerly to the eastward.  There
she lay, the Sea of Galilee.  Less stern than Wast Water, less fair
than gentle Windermere, she had still the winning ways of an
English lake; she caught from the smiling heavens unceasing light
and changeful phases of beauty, and with all this brightness on her
face, she yet clung so fondly to the dull he-looking mountain at
her side, as though she would


"Soothe him with her finer fancies,
Touch him with her lighter thought." {26}


If one might judge of men's real thoughts by their writings, it
would seem that there are people who can visit an interesting
locality and follow up continuously the exact train of thought that
ought to be suggested by the historical associations of the place.
A person of this sort can go to Athens and think of nothing later
than the age of Pericles; can live with the Scipios as long as he
stays in Rome; can go up in a balloon, and think how resplendently
in former times the now vacant and desolate air was peopled with
angels, how prettily it was crossed at intervals by the rounds of
Jacob's ladder!  I don't possess this power at all; it is only by
snatches, and for few moments together, that I can really associate
a place with its proper history.

"There at Tiberias, and along this western shore towards the north,
and upon the bosom too of the lake, our Saviour and His disciples--
" away flew those recollections, and my mind strained eastward,
because that that farthest shore was the end of the world that
belongs to man the dweller, the beginning of the other and veiled
world that is held by the strange race, whose life (like the
pastime of Satan) is a "going to and fro upon the face of the
earth."  From those grey hills right away to the gates of Bagdad
stretched forth the mysterious "desert"--not a pale, void, sandy
tract, but a land abounding in rich pastures, a land without cities
or towns, without any "respectable" people or any "respectable"
things, yet yielding its eighty thousand cavalry to the beck of a
few old men.  But once more--"Tiberias--the plain of Gennesareth--
the very earth on which I stood--that the deep low tones of the
Saviour's voice should have gone forth into eternity from out of
the midst of these hills and these valleys!"--Ay, ay, but yet again
the calm face of the lake was uplifted, and smiled upon my eyes
with such familiar gaze, that the "deep low tones" were hushed, the
listening multitudes all passed away, and instead there came to me
a dear old memory from over the seas in England, a memory sweeter
than Gospel to that poor wilful mortal, me.

I went to Tiberias, and soon got afloat upon the water.  In the
evening I took up my quarters in the Catholic church, and the
building being large enough, the whole of my party were admitted to
the benefit of the same shelter.  With portmanteaus and carpet
bags, and books and maps, and fragrant tea, Mysseri soon made me a
home on the southern side of the church.  One of old Shereef's
helpers was an enthusiastic Catholic, and was greatly delighted at
having so sacred a lodging.  He lit up the altar with a number of
tapers, and when his preparations were complete, he began to
perform his orisons in the strangest manner imaginable.  His lips
muttered the prayers of the Latin Church, but he bowed himself down
and laid his forehead to the stones beneath him after the manner of
a Mussulman.  The universal aptness of a religious system for all
stages of civilisation, and for all sorts and conditions of men,
well befits its claim of divine origin.  She is of all nations, and
of all times, that wonderful Church of Rome!

Tiberias is one of the four holy cities, {27} according to the
Talmud, and it is from this place, or the immediate neighbourhood
of it, that the Messiah is to arise.

Except at Jerusalem, never think of attempting to sleep in a "holy
city."  Old Jews from all parts of the world go to lay their bones
upon the sacred soil, and as these people never return to their
homes, it follows that any domestic vermin which they may bring
with them are likely to become permanently resident, so that the
population is continually increasing.  No recent census had been
taken when I was at Tiberias, but I know that the congregation of
fleas which attended at my church alone must have been something
enormous.  It was a carnal, self-seeking congregation, wholly
inattentive to the service which was going on, and devoted to the
one object of having my blood.  The fleas of all nations were
there.  The smug, steady, importunate flea from Holywell Street;
the pert, jumping puce from hungry France, the wary, watchful pulce
with his poisoned stiletto; the vengeful pulga of Castile with his
ugly knife; the German floh with his knife and fork, insatiate, not
rising from table; whole swarms from all the Russias, and Asiatic
hordes unnumbered--all these were there, and all rejoiced in one
great international feast.  I could no more defend myself against
my enemies than if I had been pain a discretion in the hands of a
French patriot, or English gold in the claws of a Pennsylvanian
Quaker.  After passing a night like this you are glad to pick up
the wretched remains of your body long, long before morning dawns.
Your skin is scorched, your temples throb, your lips feel withered
and dried, your burning eyeballs are screwed inwards against the
brain.  You have no hope but only in the saddle and the freshness
of the morning air.



CHAPTER XII--MY FIRST BIVOUAC



The course of the Jordan is from the north to the south, and in
that direction, with very little of devious winding, it carries the
shining waters of Galilee straight down into the solitudes of the
Dead Sea.  Speaking roughly, the river in that meridian is a
boundary between the people living under roofs and the tented
tribes that wander on the farther side.  And so, as I went down in
my way from Tiberias towards Jerusalem, along the western bank of
the stream, my thinking all propended to the ancient world of
herdsmen and warriors that lay so close over my bridle arm.

If a man, and an Englishman, be not born of his mother with a
natural Chiffney-bit in his mouth, there comes to him a time for
loathing the wearisome ways of society; a time for not liking tamed
people; a time for not dancing quadrilles, not sitting in pews; a
time for pretending that Milton and Shelley, and all sorts of mere
dead people, were greater in death than the first living Lord of
the Treasury; a time, in short, for scoffing and railing, for
speaking lightly of the very opera, and all our most cherished
institutions.  It is from nineteen to two or three and twenty
perhaps that this war of the man against men is like to be waged
most sullenly.  You are yet in this smiling England, but you find
yourself wending away to the dark sides of her mountains, climbing
the dizzy crags, exulting in the fellowship of mists and clouds,
and watching the storms how they gather, or proving the mettle of
your mare upon the broad and dreary downs, because that you feel
congenially with the yet unparcelled earth.  A little while you are
free and unlabelled, like the ground that you compass; but
civilisation is coming and coming; you and your much-loved waste
lands will be surely enclosed, and sooner or later brought down to
a state of mere usefulness; the ground will be curiously sliced
into acres and roods and perches, and you, for all you sit so
smartly in your saddle, you will be caught, you will be taken up
from travel as a colt from grass, to be trained and tried, and
matched and run.  All this in time, but first came Continental
tours and the moody longing for Eastern travel.  The downs and the
moors of England can hold you no longer; with large strides you
burst away from these slips and patches of free land; you thread
your path through the crowds of Europe, and at last, on the banks
of Jordan, you joyfully know that you are upon the very frontier of
all accustomed respectabilities.  There, on the other side of the
river (you can swim it with one arm), there reigns the people that
will be like to put you to death for NOT being a vagrant, for NOT
being a robber, for NOT being armed and houseless.  There is
comfort in that--health, comfort, and strength to one who is dying
from very weariness of that poor, dear, middle-aged, deserving,
accomplished, pedantic, and painstaking governess, Europe.

I had ridden for some hours along the right bank of Jordan when I
came to the Djesr el Medjame (an old Roman bridge, I believe),
which crossed the river.  My Nazarene guide was riding ahead of the
party, and now, to my surprise and delight, he turned leftwards,
and led on over the bridge.  I knew that the true road to Jerusalem
must be mainly by the right bank of Jordan, but I supposed that my
guide was crossing the bridge at this spot in order to avoid some
bend in the river, and that he knew of a ford lower down by which
we should regain the western bank.  I made no question about the
road, for I was but too glad to set my horse's hoofs upon the land
of the wandering tribes.  None of my party except the Nazarene knew
the country.  On we went through rich pastures upon the eastern
side of the water.  I looked for the expected bend of the river,
but far as I could see it kept a straight southerly course; I still
left my guide unquestioned.

The Jordan is not a perfectly accurate boundary betwixt roofs and
tents, for soon after passing the bridge I came upon a cluster of
huts.  Some time afterwards the guide, upon being closely
questioned by my servants, confessed that the village which we had
left behind was the last that we should see, but he declared that
he knew a spot at which we should find an encampment of friendly
Bedouins, who would receive me with all hospitality.  I had long
determined not to leave the East without seeing something of the
wandering tribes, but I had looked forward to this as a pleasure to
be found in the desert between El Arish and Egypt; I had no idea
that the Bedouins on the east of Jordan were accessible.  My
delight was so great at the near prospect of bread and salt in the
tent of an Arab warrior, that I wilfully allowed my guide to go on
and mislead me.  I saw that he was taking me out of the straight
route towards Jerusalem, and was drawing me into the midst of the
Bedouins; but the idea of his betraying me seemed (I know not why)
so utterly absurd, that I could not entertain it for a moment.  I
fancied it possible that the fellow had taken me out of my route in
order to attempt some little mercantile enterprise with the tribe
for which he was seeking, and I was glad of the opportunity which I
might thus gain of coming in contact with the wanderers.

Not long after passing the village a horseman met us.  It appeared
that some of the cavalry of Ibrahim Pasha had crossed the river for
the sake of the rich pastures on the eastern bank, and that this
man was one of the troopers.  He stopped and saluted; he was
obviously surprised at meeting an unarmed, or half-armed,
cavalcade, and at last fairly told us that we were on the wrong
side of the river, and that if we proceeded we must lay our account
with falling amongst robbers.  All this while, and throughout the
day, my Nazarene kept well ahead of the party, and was constantly
up in his stirrups, straining forward and searching the distance
for some objects which still remained unseen.

For the rest of the day we saw no human being; we pushed on eagerly
in the hope of coming up with the Bedouins before nightfall.  Night
came, and we still went on in our way till about ten o'clock.  Then
the thorough darkness of the night, and the weariness of our beasts
(which had already done two good days' journey in one), forced us
to determine upon coming to a standstill.  Upon the heights to the
eastward we saw lights; these shone from caves on the mountain-
side, inhabited, as the Nazarene told us, by rascals of a low sort-
-not real Bedouins, men whom we might frighten into harmlessness,
but from whom there was no willing hospitality to be expected.

We heard at a little distance the brawling of a rivulet, and on the
banks of this it was determined to establish our bivouac.  We soon
found the stream, and following its course for a few yards, came to
a spot which was thought to be fit for our purpose.  It was a
sharply cold night in February, and when I dismounted I found
myself standing upon some wet rank herbage that promised ill for
the comfort of our resting-place.  I had bad hopes of a fire, for
the pitchy darkness of the night was a great obstacle to any
successful search for fuel, and besides, the boughs of trees or
bushes would be so full of sap in this early spring, that they
would not be easily persuaded to burn.  However, we were not likely
to submit to a dark and cold bivouac without an effort, and my
fellows groped forward through the darkness, till after advancing a
few paces they were happily stopped by a complete barrier of dead
prickly bushes.  Before our swords could be drawn to reap this
welcome harvest it was found to our surprise that the fuel was
already hewn and strewed along the ground in a thick mass.  A spot
for the fire was found with some difficulty, for the earth was
moist and the grass high and rank.  At last there was a clicking of
flint and steel, and presently there stood out from darkness one of
the tawny faces of my muleteers, bent down to near the ground, and
suddenly lit up by the glowing of the spark which he courted with
careful breath.  Before long there was a particle of dry fibre or
leaf that kindled to a tiny flame; then another was lit from that,
and then another.  Then small crisp twigs, little bigger than
bodkins, were laid athwart the glowing fire.  The swelling cheeks
of the muleteer, laid level with the earth, blew tenderly at first
and then more boldly upon the young flame, which was daintily
nursed and fed, and fed more plentifully when it gained good
strength.  At last a whole armful of dry bushes was piled up over
the fire, and presently, with a loud cheery crackling and
crackling, a royal tall blaze shot up from the earth and showed me
once more the shapes and faces of my men, and the dim outlines of
the horses and mules that stood grazing hard by.

My servants busied themselves in unpacking the baggage as though we
had arrived at an hotel--Shereef and his helpers unsaddled their
cattle.  We had left Tiberias without the slightest idea that we
were to make our way to Jerusalem along the desolate side of the
Jordan, and my servants (generally provident in those matters) had
brought with them only, I think, some unleavened bread and a rocky
fragment of goat's milk cheese.  These treasures were produced.
Tea and the contrivances for making it were always a standing part
of my baggage.  My men gathered in circle round the fire.  The
Nazarene was in a false position from having misled us so
strangely, and he would have shrunk back, poor devil, into the cold
and outer darkness, but I made him draw near and share the luxuries
of the night.  My quilt and my pelisse were spread, and the rest of
my party had all their capotes or pelisses, or robes of some sort,
which furnished their couches.  The men gathered in circle, some
kneeling, some sitting, some lying reclined around our common
hearth.  Sometimes on one, sometimes on another, the flickering
light would glare more fiercely.  Sometimes it was the good Shereef
that seemed the foremost, as he sat with venerable beard the image
of manly piety--unknowing of all geography, unknowing where he was
or whither he might go, but trusting in the goodness of God and the
clinching power of fate and the good star of the Englishman.
Sometimes, like marble, the classic face of the Greek Mysseri would
catch the sudden light, and then again by turns the ever-perturbed
Dthemetri, with his old Chinaman's eye and bristling, terrier-like
moustache, shone forth illustrious.

I always liked the men who attended me on these Eastern travels,
for they were all of them brave, cheery-hearted fellows; and
although their following my career brought upon them a pretty large
share of those toils and hardships which are so much more amusing
to gentlemen than to servants, yet not one of them ever uttered or
hinted a syllable of complaint, or even affected to put on an air
of resignation.  I always liked them, but never perhaps so much as
when they were thus grouped together under the light of the bivouac
fire.  I felt towards them as my comrades rather than as my
servants, and took delight in breaking bread with them, and merrily
passing the cup.

The love of tea is a glad source of fellow-feeling between the
Englishman and the Asiatic.  In Persia it is drunk by all, and
although it is a luxury that is rarely within the reach of the
Osmanlees, there are few of them who do not know and love the
blessed tchai.  Our camp-kettle, filled from the brook, hummed
doubtfully for a while, then busily bubbled under the sidelong
glare of the flames; cups clinked and rattled; the fragrant steam
ascended, and soon this little circlet in the wilderness grew warm
and genial as my lady's drawing-room.

And after this there came the tchibouque--great comforter of those
that are hungry and wayworn.  And it has this virtue--it helps to
destroy the gene and awkwardness which one sometimes feels at being
in company with one's dependents; for whilst the amber is at your
lips, there is nothing ungracious in your remaining silent, or
speaking pithily in short inter-whiff sentences.  And for us that
night there was pleasant and plentiful matter of talk; for the
where we should be on the morrow, and the wherewithal we should be
fed, whether by some ford we should regain the western bank of
Jordan, or find bread and salt under the tents of a wandering
tribe, or whether we should fall into the hands of the Philistines,
and so come to see death--the last and greatest of all "the fine
sights" that there be--these were questionings not dull nor
wearisome to us, for we were all concerned in the answers.  And it
was not an all-imagined morrow that we probed with our sharp
guesses, for the lights of those low Philistines, the men of the
caves, still hung over our heads, and we knew by their yells that
the fire of our bivouac had shown us.

At length we thought it well to seek for sleep.  Our plans were
laid for keeping up a good watch through the night.  My quilt and
my pelisse and my cloak were spread out so that I might lie
spokewise, with my feet towards the central fire.  I wrapped my
limbs daintily round, and gave myself positive orders to sleep like
a veteran soldier.  But I found that my attempt to sleep upon the
earth that God gave me was more new and strange than I had fancied
it.  I had grown used to the scene which was before me whilst I was
sitting or reclining by the side of the fire, but now that I laid
myself down at length it was the deep black mystery of the heavens
that hung over my eyes--not an earthly thing in the way from my own
very forehead right up to the end of all space.  I grew proud of my
boundless bedchamber.  I might have "found sermons" in all this
greatness (if I had I should surely have slept), but such was not
then my way.  If this cherished self of mine had built the
universe, I should have dwelt with delight on "the wonders of
creation."  As it was, I felt rather the vainglory of my promotion
from out of mere rooms and houses into the midst of that grand,
dark, infinite palace.

And then, too, my head, far from the fire, was in cold latitudes,
and it seemed to me strange that I should be lying so still and
passive, whilst the sharp night breeze walked free over my cheek,
and the cold damp clung to my hair, as though my face grew in the
earth and must bear with the footsteps of the wind and the falling
of the dew as meekly as the grass of the field.  Besides, I got
puzzled and distracted by having to endure heat and cold at the
same time, for I was always considering whether my feet were not
over-devilled and whether my face was not too well iced.  And so
when from time to time the watch quietly and gently kept up the
languishing fire, he seldom, I think, was unseen to my restless
eyes.  Yet at last, when they called me and said that the morn
would soon be dawning, I rose from a state of half-oblivion not
much unlike to sleep, though sharply qualified by a sort of
vegetable's consciousness of having been growing still colder and
colder for many and many an hour.



CHAPTER XIII--THE DEAD SEA



The grey light of the morning showed us for the first time the
ground which we had chosen for our resting-place.  We found that we
had bivouacked upon a little patch of barley plainly belonging to
the men of the caves.  The dead bushes which we found so happily
placed in readiness for our fire had been strewn as a fence for the
protection of the little crop.  This was the only cultivated spot
of ground which we had seen for many a league, and I was rather
sorry to find that our night fire and our cattle had spread so much
ruin upon this poor solitary slip of corn-land.

The saddling and loading of our beasts was a work which generally
took nearly an hour, and before this was half over daylight came.
We could now see the men of the caves.  They collected in a body,
amounting, I should think, to nearly fifty, and rushed down towards
our quarters with fierce shouts and yells.  But the nearer they got
the slower they went; their shouts grew less resolute in tone, and
soon ceased altogether.  The fellows, however, advanced to a
thicket within thirty yards of us, and behind this "took up their
position."  My men without premeditation did exactly that which was
best; they kept steadily to their work of loading the beasts
without fuss or hurry; and whether it was that they instinctively
felt the wisdom of keeping quiet, or that they merely obeyed the
natural inclination to silence which one feels in the early
morning, I cannot tell, but I know that, except when they exchanged
a syllable or two relative to the work they were about, not a word
was said.  I now believe that this quietness of our party created
an undefined terror in the minds of the cave-holders and scared
them from coming on; it gave them a notion that we were relying on
some resources which they knew not of.  Several times the fellows
tried to lash themselves into a state of excitement which might do
instead of pluck.  They would raise a great shout and sway forward
in a dense body from behind the thicket; but when they saw that
their bravery thus gathered to a head did not even suspend the
strapping of a portmanteau or the tying of a hatbox, their shout
lost its spirit, and the whole mass was irresistibly drawn back
like a wave receding from the shore.

These attempts at an onset were repeated several times, but always
with the same result.  I remained under the apprehension of an
attack for more than half-an-hour, and it seemed to me that the
work of packing and loading had never been done so slowly.  I felt
inclined to tell my fellows to make their best speed, but just as I
was going to speak I observed that every one was doing his duty
already; I therefore held my peace and said not a word, till at
last Mysseri led up my horse and asked me if I were ready to mount.

We all marched off without hindrance.

After some time we came across a party of Ibrahim's cavalry, which
had bivouacked at no great distance from us. The knowledge that
such a force was in the neighbourhood may have conduced to the
forbearance of the cave-holders.

We saw a scraggy-looking fellow nearly black, and wearing nothing
but a cloth round the loins; he was tending flocks.  Afterwards I
came up with another of these goatherds, whose helpmate was with
him.  They gave us some goat's milk, a welcome present.  I pitied
the poor devil of a goatherd for having such a very plain wife.  I
spend an enormous quantity of pity upon that particular form of
human misery.

About midday I began to examine my map and to question my guide,
who at last fell on his knees and confessed that he knew nothing of
the country in which we were.  I was thus thrown upon my own
resources, and calculating that on the preceding day we had nearly
performed a two days' journey, I concluded that the Dead Sea must
be near.  In this I was right, for at about three or four o'clock
in the afternoon I caught a first sight of its dismal face.

I went on and came near to those waters of death.  They stretched
deeply into the southern desert, and before me, and all around, as
far away as the eye could follow, blank hills piled high over
hills, pale, yellow, and naked, walled up in her tomb for ever the
dead and damned Gomorrah.  There was no fly that hummed in the
forbidden air, but instead a deep stillness; no grass grew from the
earth, no weed peered through the void sand; but in mockery of all
life there were trees borne down by Jordan in some ancient flood,
and these, grotesquely planted upon the forlorn shore, spread out
their grim skeleton arms, all scorched and charred to blackness by
the heats of the long silent years.

I now struck off towards the debouchure of the river; but I found
that the country, though seemingly quite flat, was intersected by
deep ravines, which did not show themselves until nearly
approached.  For some time my progress was much obstructed; but at
last I came across a track which led towards the river, and which
might, as I hoped, bring me to a ford.  I found, in fact, when I
came to the river's side that the track reappeared upon the
opposite bank, plainly showing that the stream had been fordable at
this place.  Now, however, in consequence of the late rains the
river was quite impracticable for baggage-horses.  A body of waters
about equal to the Thames at Eton, but confined to a narrower
channel, poured down in a current so swift and heavy, that the idea
of passing with laden baggage-horses was utterly forbidden.  I
could have swum across myself, and I might, perhaps, have succeeded
in swimming a horse over; but this would have been useless, because
in such case I must have abandoned not only my baggage, but all my
attendants, for none of them were able to swim, and without that
resource it would have been madness for them to rely upon the
swimming of their beasts across such a powerful stream.  I still
hoped, however, that there might be a chance of passing the river
at the point of its actual junction with the Dead Sea, and I
therefore went on in that direction.

Night came upon us whilst labouring across gullies and sandy
mounds, and we were obliged to come to a stand-still quite suddenly
upon the very edge of a precipitous descent.  Every step towards
the Dead Sea had brought us into a country more and more dreary;
and this sand-hill, which we were forced to choose for our resting-
place, was dismal enough.  A few slender blades of grass, which
here and there singly pierced the sand, mocked bitterly the hunger
of our jaded beasts, and with our small remaining fragment of
goat's-milk rock by way of supper, we were not much better off than
our horses.  We wanted, too, the great requisite of a cheery
bivouac--fire.  Moreover, the spot on which we had been so suddenly
brought to a standstill was relatively high and unsheltered, and
the night wind blew swiftly and cold.

The next morning I reached the debouchure of the Jordan, where I
had hoped to find a bar of sand that might render its passage
possible.  The river, however, rolled its eddying waters fast down
to the "sea" in a strong, deep stream that shut out all hope of
crossing.

It now seemed necessary either to construct a raft of some kind, or
else to retrace my steps and remount the banks of the Jordan.  I
had once happened to give some attention to the subject of military
bridges--a branch of military science which includes the
construction of rafts and contrivances of the like sort--and I
should have been very proud indeed if I could have carried my party
and my baggage across by dint of any idea gathered from Sir Howard
Douglas or Robinson Crusoe.  But we were all faint and languid from
want of food, and besides, there were no materials.  Higher up the
river there were bushes and river plants, but nothing like timber;
and the cord with which my baggage was tied to the pack-saddles
amounted altogether to a very small quantity, not nearly enough to
haul any sort of craft across the stream.

And now it was, if I remember rightly, that Dthemetri submitted to
me a plan for putting to death the Nazarene, whose misguidance had
been the cause of our difficulties.  There was something
fascinating in this suggestion, for the slaying of the guide was of
course easy enough, and would look like an act of what politicians
call "vigour."  If it were only to become known to my friends in
England that I had calmly killed a fellow-creature for taking me
out of my way, I might remain perfectly quiet and tranquil for all
the rest of my days, quite free from the danger of being considered
"slow"; I might ever after live on upon my reputation, like
"single-speech Hamilton" in the last century, or "single sin--" in
this, without being obliged to take the trouble of doing any more
harm in the world.  This was a great temptation to an indolent
person, but the motive was not strengthened by any sincere feeling
of anger with the Nazarene.  Whilst the question of his life and
death was debated he was riding in front of our party, and there
was something in the anxious writhing of his supple limbs that
seemed to express a sense of his false position, and struck me as
highly comic.  I had no crotchet at that time against the
punishment of death, but I was unused to blood, and the proposed
victim looked so thoroughly capable of enjoying life (if he could
only get to the other side of the river), that I thought it would
be hard for him to die merely in order to give me a character for
energy.  Acting on the result of these considerations, and
reserving to myself a free and unfettered discretion to have the
poor villain shot at any future moment, I magnanimously decided
that for the present he should live, and not die.

I bathed in the Dead Sea.  The ground covered by the water sloped
so gradually, that I was not only forced to "sneak in," but to walk
through the water nearly a quarter of a mile before I could get out
of my depth.  When at last I was able to attempt to dive, the salts
held in solution made my eyes smart so sharply, that the pain which
I thus suffered, together with the weakness occasioned by want of
food, made me giddy and faint for some moments, but I soon grew
better.  I knew beforehand the impossibility of sinking in this
buoyant water, but I was surprised to find that I could not swim at
my accustomed pace; my legs and feet were lifted so high and dry
out of the lake, that my stroke was baffled, and I found myself
kicking against the thin air instead of the dense fluid upon which
I was swimming.  The water is perfectly bright and clear; its taste
detestable.  After finishing my attempts at swimming and diving, I
took some time in regaining the shore, and before I began to dress
I found that the sun had already evaporated the water which clung
to me, and that my skin was thickly encrusted with salts.



CHAPTER XIV--THE BLACK TENTS



My steps were reluctantly turned towards the north.  I had ridden
some way, and still it seemed that all life was fenced and barred
out from the desolate ground over which I was journeying.  On the
west there flowed the impassable Jordan, on the east stood an
endless range of barren mountains, and on the south lay that desert
sea that knew not the plashing of an oar; greatly therefore was I
surprised when suddenly there broke upon my ear the long,
ludicrous, persevering bray of a donkey.  I was riding at this time
some few hundred yards ahead of all my party except the Nazarene
(who by a wise instinct kept closer to me than to Dthemetri), and I
instantly went forward in the direction of the sound, for I fancied
that where there were donkeys, there too most surely would be men.
The ground on all sides of me seemed thoroughly void and lifeless,
but at last I got down into a hollow, and presently a sudden turn
brought me within thirty yards of an Arab encampment.  The low
black tents which I had so long lusted to see were right before me,
and they were all teeming with live Arabs--men, women, and
children.

I wished to have let my party behind know where I was, but I
recollected that they would be able to trace me by the prints of my
horse's hoofs in the sand, and having to do with Asiatics, I felt
the danger of the slightest movement which might be looked upon as
a sign of irresolution.  Therefore, without looking behind me,
without looking to the right or to the left, I rode straight up
towards the foremost tent.  Before this was strewed a semicircular
fence of dead boughs, through which there was an opening opposite
to the front of the tent.  As I advanced, some twenty or thirty of
the most uncouth-looking fellows imaginable came forward to meet
me.  In their appearance they showed nothing of the Bedouin blood;
they were of many colours, from dingy brown to jet black, and some
of these last had much of the negro look about them.  They were
tall, powerful fellows, but awfully ugly.  They wore nothing but
the Arab shirts, confined at the waist by leathern belts.

I advanced to the gap left in the fence, and at once alighted from
my horse.  The chief greeted me after his fashion by alternately
touching first my hand and then his own forehead, as if he were
conveying the virtue of the touch like a spark of electricity.
Presently I found myself seated upon a sheepskin, which was spread
for me under the sacred shade of Arabian canvas.  The tent was of a
long, narrow, oblong form, and contained a quantity of men, women,
and children so closely huddled together, that there was scarcely
one of them who was not in actual contact with his neighbour.  The
moment I had taken my seat the chief repeated his salutations in
the most enthusiastic manner, and then the people having gathered
densely about me, got hold of my unresisting hand and passed it
round like a claret jug for the benefit of every body.  The women
soon brought me a wooden bowl full of buttermilk, and welcome
indeed came the gift to my hungry and thirsty soul.

After some time my party, as I had expected, came up, and when poor
Dthemetri saw me on my sheepskin, "the life and soul" of this
ragamuffin party, he was so astounded, that he even failed to check
his cry of horror; he plainly thought that now, at last, the Lord
had delivered me (interpreter and all) into the hands of the lowest
Philistines.

Mysseri carried a tobacco-pouch slung at his belt, and as soon as
its contents were known the whole population of the tent began
begging like spaniels for bits of the beloved weed.  I concluded
from the abject manner of these people that they could not possibly
be thoroughbred Bedouins, and I saw, too, that they must be in the
very last stage of misery, for poor indeed is the man in these
climes who cannot command a pipeful of tobacco.  I began to think
that I had fallen amongst thorough savages, and it seemed likely
enough that they would gain their very first knowledge of
civilisation by ravishing and studying the contents of my dearest
portmanteaus, but still my impression was that they would hardly
venture upon such an attempt.  I observed, indeed, that they did
not offer me the bread and salt which I had understood to be the
pledges of peace amongst wandering tribes, but I fancied that they
refrained from this act of hospitality, not in consequence of any
hostile determination, but in order that the notion of robbing me
might remain for the present an "open question."  I afterwards
found that the poor fellows had no bread to offer.  They were
literally "out at grass."  It is true that they had a scanty supply
of milk from goats, but they were living almost entirely upon
certain grass stems, which were just in season at that time of the
year.  These, if not highly nourishing, are pleasant enough to the
taste, and their acid juices come gratefully to thirsty lips.



CHAPTER XV--PASSAGE OF THE JORDAN



And now Dthemetri began to enter into a negotiation with my hosts
for a passage over the river.  I never interfered with my worthy
dragoman upon these occasions, because from my entire ignorance of
the Arabic I should have been quite unable to exercise any real
control over his words, and it would have been silly to break the
stream of his eloquence to no purpose.  I have reason to fear,
however, that he lied transcendently, and especially in
representing me as the bosom friend of Ibrahim Pasha.  The mention
of that name produced immense agitation and excitement, and the
Sheik explained to Dthemetri the grounds of the infinite respect
which he and his tribe entertained for the Pasha.  A few weeks
before Ibrahim had craftily sent a body of troops across the
Jordan.  The force went warily round to the foot of the mountains
on the east, so as to cut off the retreat of this tribe, and then
surrounded them as they lay encamped in the vale; their camels, and
indeed all their possessions worth taking, were carried off by the
soldiery, and moreover the then Sheik, together with every tenth
man of the tribe, was brought out and shot.  You would think that
this conduct on the part of the Pasha might not procure for his
"friend" a very gracious reception amongst the people whom he had
thus despoiled and decimated; but the Asiatic seems to be animated
with a feeling of profound respect, almost bordering upon
affection, for all who have done him any bold and violent wrong,
and there is always, too, so much of vague and undefined
apprehension mixed up with his really well-founded alarms, that I
can see no limit to the yielding and bending of his mind when it is
wrought upon by the idea of power.

After some discussion the Arabs agreed, as I thought, to conduct me
to a ford, and we moved on towards the river, followed by seventeen
of the most able-bodied of the tribe, under the guidance of several
grey-bearded elders, and Sheik Ali Djoubran at the head of the
whole detachment.  Upon leaving the encampment a sort of ceremony
was performed, for the purpose, it seemed, of ensuring, if
possible, a happy result for the undertaking.  There was an
uplifting of arms, and a repeating of words that sounded like
formulae, but there were no prostrations, and I did not understand
that the ceremony was of a religious character.  The tented Arabs
are looked upon as very bad Mahometans.

We arrived upon the banks of the river--not at a ford, but at a
deep and rapid part of the stream, and I now understood that it was
the plan of these men, if they helped me at all, to transport me
across the river by some species of raft.  But a reaction had taken
place in the opinions of many, and a violent dispute arose upon a
motion which seemed to have been made by some honourable member
with a view to robbery.  The fellows all gathered together in
circle, at a little distance from my party, and there disputed with
great vehemence and fury for nearly two hours.  I can't give a
correct report of the debate, for it was held in a barbarous
dialect of the Arabic unknown to my dragoman.  I recollect I
sincerely felt at the time that the arguments in favour of robbing
me must have been almost unanswerable, and I gave great credit to
the speakers on my side for the ingenuity and sophistry which they
must have shown in maintaining the fight so well.

During the discussion I remained lying in front of my baggage,
which had all been taken from the pack-saddles and placed upon the
ground.  I was so languid from want of food, that I had scarcely
animation enough to feel as deeply interested as you would suppose
in the result of the discussion.  I thought, however, that the
pleasantest toys to play with during this interval were my pistols,
and now and then, when I listlessly visited my loaded barrels with
the swivel ramrods, or drew a sweet, musical click from my English
firelocks, it seemed to me that I exercised a slight and gentle
influence on the debate.  Thanks to Ibrahim Pasha's terrible
visitation the men of the tribe were wholly unarmed, and my
advantage in this respect might have counterbalanced in some
measure the superiority of numbers.

Mysseri (not interpreting in Arabic) had no duty to perform, and he
seemed to be faint and listless as myself.  Shereef looked
perfectly resigned to any fate.  But Dthemetri (faithful terrier!)
was bristling with zeal and watchfulness.  He could not understand
the debate, which indeed was carried on at a distance too great to
be easily heard, even if the language had been familiar; but he was
always on the alert, and now and then conferring with men who had
straggled out of the assembly.  At last he found an opportunity of
making a proposal, which at once produced immense sensation; he
offered, on my behalf, that if the tribe should bear themselves
loyally towards me, and take my party and my baggage in safety to
the other bank of the river, I should give them a teskeri, or
written certificate of their good conduct, which might avail them
hereafter in the hour of their direst need.  This proposal was
received and instantly accepted by all the men of the tribe there
present with the utmost enthusiasm.  I was to give the men, too, a
baksheish, that is, a present of money, which is usually made upon
the conclusion of any sort of treaty; but although the people of
the tribe were so miserably poor, they seemed to look upon the
pecuniary part of the arrangement as a matter quite trivial in
comparison with the teskeri.  Indeed the sum which Dthemetri
promised them was extremely small, and not the slightest attempt
was made to extort any further reward.

The council now broke up, and most of the men rushed madly towards
me, and overwhelmed me with vehement gratulations; they caressed my
boots with much affection, and my hands were severely kissed.

The Arabs now went to work in right earnest to effect the passage
of the river.  They had brought with them a great number of the
skins which they use for carrying water in the desert; these they
filled with air, and fastened several of them to small boughs which
they cut from the banks of the river.  In this way they constructed
a raft not more than about four or five feet square, but rendered
buoyant by the inflated skins which supported it.  On this a
portion of my baggage was placed, and was firmly tied to it by the
cords used on my pack-saddles.  The little raft with its weighty
cargo was then gently lifted into the water, and I had the
satisfaction to see that it floated well.

Twelve of the Arabs now stripped, and tied inflated skins to their
loins; six of the men went down into the river, got in front of the
little raft, and pulled it off a few feet from the bank.  The other
six then dashed into the stream with loud shouts and swam along
after the raft, pushing it from behind.  Off went the craft in
capital style at first, for the stream was easy on the eastern
side; but I saw that the tug was to come, for the main torrent
swept round in a bend near the western bank of the river.

The old men, with their long grey grisly beards, stood shouting and
cheering, praying and commanding.  At length the raft entered upon
the difficult part of its course; the whirling stream seized and
twisted it about, and then bore it rapidly downwards; the swimmers,
flagged and seemed to be beaten in the struggle.  But now the old
men on the bank, with their rigid arms uplifted straight, sent
forth a cry and a shout that tore the wide air into tatters, and
then to make their urging yet more strong they shrieked out the
dreadful syllables, "'brahim Pasha!"  The swimmers, one moment
before so blown and so weary, found lungs to answer the cry, and
shouting back the name of their great destroyer, they dashed on
through the torrent, and bore the raft in safety to the western
bank.

Afterwards the swimmers returned with the raft, and attached to it
the rest of my baggage.  I took my seat upon the top of the cargo,
and the raft thus laden passed the river in the same way, and with
the same struggle as before.  The skins, however, not being
perfectly air-tight, had lost a great part of their buoyancy, so
that I, as well as the luggage that passed on this last voyage, got
wet in the waters of Jordan.  The raft could not be trusted for
another trip, and the rest of my party passed the river in a
different and (for them) much safer way.  Inflated skins were
fastened to their loins, and thus supported, they were tugged
across by Arabs swimming on either side of them.  The horses and
mules were thrown into the water and forced to swim over.  The poor
beasts had a hard struggle for their lives in that swift stream;
and I thought that one of the horses would have been drowned, for
he was too weak to gain a footing on the western bank, and the
stream bore him down.  At last, however, he swam back to the side
from which he had come.  Before dark all had passed the river
except this one horse and old Shereef.  He, poor fellow, was
shivering on the eastern bank, for his dread of the passage was so
great, that he delayed it as long as he could, and at last it
became so dark that he was obliged to wait till the morning.

I lay that night on the banks of the river, and at a little
distance from me the Arabs kindled a fire, round which they sat in
a circle.  They were made most savagely happy by the tobacco with
which I supplied them, and they soon determined that the whole
night should be one smoking festival.  The poor fellows had only a
cracked bowl, without any tube at all, but this morsel of a pipe
they handed round from one to the other, allowing to each a fixed
number of whiffs.  In that way they passed the whole night.

The next morning old Shereef was brought across.  It was a strange
sight to see this solemn old Mussulman, with his shaven head and
his sacred beard, sprawling and puffing upon the surface of the
water.  When at last he reached the bank the people told him that
by his baptism in Jordan he had surely become a mere Christian.
Poor Shereef!--the holy man! the descendant of the Prophet!--he was
sadly hurt by the taunt, and the more so as he seemed to feel that
there was some foundation for it, and that he really might have
absorbed some Christian errors.

When all was ready for departure I wrote the teskeri in French and
delivered it to Sheik Ali Djoubran, together with the promised
baksheish; he was exceedingly grateful, and I parted in a very
friendly way from this ragged tribe.

In two or three hours I gained Rihah, a village said to occupy the
site of ancient Jericho.  There was one building there which I
observed with some emotion, for although it may not have been
actually standing in the days of Jericho, it contained at this day
a most interesting collection of--modern loaves.

Some hours after sunset I reached the convent of Santa Saba, and
there remained for the night.



CHAPTER XVI--TERRA SANTA



The enthusiasm that had glowed, or seemed to glow, within me for
one blessed moment when I knelt by the shrine of the Virgin at
Nazareth, was not rekindled at Jerusalem.  In the stead of the
solemn gloom and the deep stillness that of right belonged to the
Holy City, there was the hum and the bustle of active life.  It was
the "height of the season."  The Easter ceremonies drew near.  The
pilgrims were flocking in from all quarters; and although their
objects were partly at least of a religious character, yet their
"arrivals" brought as much stir and liveliness to the city as if
they had come up to marry their daughters.

The votaries who every year crowd to the Holy Sepulchre are chiefly
of the Greek and Armenian Churches.  They are not drawn into
Palestine by a mere sentimental longing to stand upon the ground
trodden by our Saviour, but rather they perform the pilgrimage as a
plain duty strongly inculcated by their religion.  A very great
proportion of those who belong to the Greek Church contrive at some
time or other in the course of their lives to achieve the
enterprise.  Many in their infancy and childhood are brought to the
holy sites by their parents, but those who have not had this
advantage will often make it the main object of their lives to save
money enough for this holy undertaking.

The pilgrims begin to arrive in Palestine some weeks before the
Easter festival of the Greek Church.  They come from Egypt, from
all parts of Syria, from Armenia and Asia Minor, from Stamboul,
from Roumelia, from the provinces of the Danube, and from all the
Russias.  Most of these people bring with them some articles of
merchandise, but I myself believe (notwithstanding the common taunt
against pilgrims) that they do this rather as a mode of paying the
expenses of their journey, than from a spirit of mercenary
speculation.  They generally travel in families, for the women are
of course more ardent than their husbands in undertaking these
pious enterprises, and they take care to bring with them all their
children, however young; for the efficacy of the rites does not
depend upon the age of the votary, so that people whose careful
mothers have obtained for them the benefit of the pilgrimage in
early life, are saved from the expense and trouble of undertaking
the journey at a later age.  The superior veneration so often
excited by objects that are distant and unknown shows not perhaps
the wrongheadedness of a man, but rather the transcendent power of
his imagination.  However this may be, and whether it is by mere
obstinacy that they poke their way through intervening distance, or
whether they come by the winged strength of fancy, quite certainly
the pilgrims who flock to Palestine from the most remote homes are
the people most eager in the enterprise, and in number too they
bear a very high proportion to the whole mass.

The great bulk of the pilgrims make their way by sea to the port of
Jaffa.  A number of families will charter a vessel amongst them,
all bringing their own provisions, which are of the simplest and
cheapest kind.  On board every vessel thus freighted there is, I
believe, a priest, who helps the people in their religious
exercises, and tries (and fails) to maintain something like order
and harmony.  The vessels employed in this service are usually
Greek brigs or brigantines and schooners, and the number of
passengers stowed in them is almost always horribly excessive.  The
voyages are sadly protracted, not only by the land-seeking, storm-
flying habits of the Greek seamen, but also by their endless
schemes and speculations, which are for ever tempting them to touch
at the nearest port.  The voyage too must be made in winter, in
order that Jerusalem may be reached some weeks before the Greek
Easter, and thus by the time they attain to the holy shrines the
pilgrims have really and truly undergone a very respectable
quantity of suffering.  I once saw one of these pious cargoes put
ashore on the coast of Cyprus, where they had touched for the
purpose of visiting (not Paphos, but) some Christian sanctuary.  I
never saw (no, never even in the most horridly stuffy ballroom)
such a discomfortable collection of human beings.  Long huddled
together in a pitching and rolling prison, fed on beans, exposed to
some real danger and to terrors without end, they had been tumbled
about for many wintry weeks in the chopping seas of the
Mediterranean.  As soon as they landed they stood upon the beach
and chanted a hymn of thanks; the chant was morne and doleful, but
really the poor people were looking so miserable, that one could
not fairly expect from them any lively outpouring of gratitude.

When the pilgrims have landed at Jaffa they hire camels, horses,
mules, or donkeys, and make their way as well as they can to the
Holy City.  The space fronting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre
soon becomes a kind of bazaar, or rather, perhaps, reminds you of
an English fair.  On this spot the pilgrims display their
merchandise, and there too the trading residents of the place offer
their goods for sale.  I have never, I think, seen elsewhere in
Asia so much commercial animation as upon this square of ground by
the church door; the "money-changers" seemed to be almost as brisk
and lively as if they had been WITHIN the temple.

When I entered the church I found a babel of worshippers.  Greek,
Roman, and Armenian priests were performing their different rites
in various nooks and corners, and crowds of disciples were rushing
about in all directions, some laughing and talking, some begging,
but most of them going round in a regular and methodical way to
kiss the sanctified spots, and speak the appointed syllables, and
lay down the accustomed coin.  If this kissing of the shrines had
seemed as though it were done at the bidding of enthusiasm, or of
any poor sentiment even feebly approaching to it, the sight would
have been less odd to English eyes; but as it was, I stared to see
grown men thus steadily and carefully embracing the sticks and the
stones, not from love or from zeal (else God forbid that I should
have stared!), but from a calm sense of duty; they seemed to be not
"working out," but TRANSACTING the great business of salvation.

Dthemetri, however, who generally came with me when I went out, in
order to do duty as interpreter, really had in him some enthusiasm.
He was a zealous and almost fanatical member of the Greek Church,
and had long since performed the pilgrimage, so now great indeed
was the pride and delight with which he guided me from one holy
spot to another.  Every now and then, when he came to an unoccupied
shrine, he fell down on his knees and performed devotion; he was
almost distracted by the temptations that surrounded him; there
were so many stones absolutely requiring to be kissed, that he
rushed about happily puzzled and sweetly teased, like "Jack among
the maidens."

A Protestant, familiar with the Holy Scriptures, but ignorant of
tradition and the geography of modern Jerusalem, finds himself a
good deal "mazed" when he first looks for the sacred sites.  The
Holy Sepulchre is not in a field without the walls, but in the
midst, and in the best part of the town, under the roof of the
great church which I have been talking about.  It is a handsome
tomb of oblong form, partly subterranean and partly above ground,
and closed in on all sides except the one by which it is entered.
You descend into the interior by a few steps, and there find an
altar with burning tapers.  This is the spot which is held in
greater sanctity than any other at Jerusalem.  When you have seen
enough of it you feel perhaps weary of the busy crowd, and inclined
for a gallop; you ask your dragoman whether there will be time
before sunset to procure horses and take a ride to Mount Calvary.
Mount Calvary, signor?--eccolo! it is UPSTAIRS--ON THE FIRST FLOOR.
In effect you ascend, if I remember rightly, just thirteen steps,
and then you are shown the now golden sockets in which the crosses
of our Lord and the two thieves were fixed.  All this is startling,
but the truth is, that the city having gathered round the
Sepulchre, which is the main point of interest, has crept
northward, and thus in great measure are occasioned the many
geographical surprises that puzzle the "Bible Christian."

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre comprises very compendiously
almost all the spots associated with the closing career of our
Lord.  Just there, on your right, He stood and wept; by the pillar,
on your left, He was scourged; on the spot, just before you, He was
crowned with the crown of thorns; up there He was crucified, and
down here He was buried.  A locality is assigned to every, the
minutest, event connected with the recorded history of our Saviour;
even the spot where the cock crew when Peter denied his Master is
ascertained, and surrounded by the walls of an Armenian convent.
Many Protestants are wont to treat these traditions contemptuously,
and those who distinguish themselves from their brethren by the
appellation of "Bible Christians" are almost fierce in their
denunciation of these supposed errors.

It is admitted, I believe, by everybody that the formal
sanctification of these spots was the act of the Empress Helena,
the mother of Constantine, but I think it is fair to suppose that
she was guided by a careful regard to the then prevailing
traditions.  Now the nature of the ground upon which Jerusalem
stands is such, that the localities belonging to the events there
enacted might have been more easily, and permanently, ascertained
by tradition than those of any city that I know of.  Jerusalem,
whether ancient or modern, was built upon and surrounded by sharp,
salient rocks intersected by deep ravines.  Up to the time of the
siege Mount Calvary of course must have been well enough known to
the people of Jerusalem; the destruction of the mere buildings
could not have obliterated from any man's memory the names of those
steep rocks and narrow ravines in the midst of which the city had
stood.  It seems to me, therefore, highly probable that in fixing
the site of Calvary the Empress was rightly guided.  Recollect,
too, that the voice of tradition at Jerusalem is quite unanimous,
and that Romans, Greeks, Armenians, and Jews, all hating each other
sincerely, concur in assigning the same localities to the events
told in the Gospel.  I concede, however, that the attempt of the
Empress to ascertain the sites of the minor events cannot be safely
relied upon.  With respect, for instance, to the certainty of the
spot where the cock crew, I am far from being convinced.

Supposing that the Empress acted arbitrarily in fixing the holy
sites, it would seem that she followed the Gospel of St. John, and
that the geography sanctioned by her can be more easily reconciled
with that history than with the accounts of the other Evangelists.

The authority exercised by the Mussulman Government in relation to
the holy sites is in one view somewhat humbling to the Christians,
for it is almost as an arbitrator between the contending sects
(this always, of course, for the sake of pecuniary advantage) that
the Mussulman lends his contemptuous aid; he not only grants, but
enforces toleration.  All persons, of whatever religion, are
allowed to go as they will into every part of the Church of the
Holy Sepulchre, but in order to prevent indecent contests, and also
from motives arising out of money payments, the Turkish Government
assigns the peculiar care of each sacred spot to one of the
ecclesiastic bodies.  Since this guardianship carries with it the
receipt of the coins which the pilgrims leave upon the shrines, it
is strenuously fought for by all the rival Churches, and the
artifices of intrigue are busily exerted at Stamboul in order to
procure the issue or revocation of the firmans by which the coveted
privilege is granted.  In this strife the Greek Church has of late
years signally triumphed, and the most famous of the shrines are
committed to the care of their priesthood.  They possess the golden
socket in which stood the cross of our Lord whilst the Latins are
obliged to content themselves with the apertures in which were
inserted the crosses of the two thieves.  They are naturally
discontented with that poor privilege, and sorrowfully look back to
the days of their former glory--the days when Napoleon was Emperor,
and Sebastiani ambassador at the Porte.  It seems that the
"citizen" sultan, old Louis Philippe, has done very little indeed
for Holy Church in Palestine.

Although the pilgrims perform their devotions at the several
shrines with so little apparent enthusiasm, they are driven to the
verge of madness by the miracle displayed before them on Easter
Saturday.  Then it is that the Heaven-sent fire issues from the
Holy Sepulchre.  The pilgrims all assemble in the great church, and
already, long before the wonder is worked, they are wrought by
anticipation of God's sign, as well as by their struggles for room
and breathing space, to a most frightful state of excitement.  At
length the chief priest of the Greeks, accompanied (of all people
in the world) by the Turkish Governor, enters the tomb.  After
this, there is a long pause, and then suddenly from out of the
small apertures on either side of the sepulchre there issue long,
shining flames.  The pilgrims now rush forward, madly struggling to
light their tapers at the holy fire.  This is the dangerous moment,
and many lives are often lost.

The year before that of my going to Jerusalem, Ibrahim Pasha, from
some whim, or motive of policy, chose to witness the miracle.  The
vast church was of course thronged, as it always is on that awful
day.  It seems that the appearance of the fire was delayed for a
very long time, and that the growing frenzy of the people was
heightened by suspense.  Many, too, had already sunk under the
effect of the heat and the stifling atmosphere, when at last the
fire flashed from the sepulchre.  Then a terrible struggle ensued;
many sunk and were crushed.  Ibrahim had taken his station in one
of the galleries, but now, feeling perhaps his brave blood warmed
by the sight and sound of such strife, he took upon himself to
quiet the people by his personal presence, and descended into the
body of the church with only a few guards.  He had forced his way
into the midst of the dense crowd, when unhappily he fainted away;
his guards shrieked out, and the event instantly became known.  A
body of soldiers recklessly forced their way through the crowd,
trampling over every obstacle that they might save the life of
their general.  Nearly two hundred people were killed in the
struggle.

The following year, however, the Government took better measures
for the prevention of these calamities.  I was not present at the
ceremony, having gone away from Jerusalem some time before, but I
afterwards returned into Palestine, and I then learned that the day
had passed off without any disturbance of a fatal kind.  It is,
however, almost too much to expect that so many ministers of peace
can assemble without finding some occasion for strife, and in that
year a tribe of wild Bedouins became the subject of discord.  These
men, it seems, led an Arab life in some of the desert tracts
bordering on the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, but were not connected
with any of the great ruling tribes.  Some whim or notion of policy
had induced them to embrace Christianity; but they were grossly
ignorant of the rudiments of their adopted faith, and having no
priest with them in their desert, they had as little knowledge of
religious ceremonies as of religion itself.  They were not even
capable of conducting themselves in a place of worship with
ordinary decorum, but would interrupt the service with scandalous
cries and warlike shouts.  Such is the account the Latins give of
them, but I have never heard the other side of the question.  These
wild fellows, notwithstanding their entire ignorance of all
religion, are yet claimed by the Greeks, not only as proselytes who
have embraced Christianity generally, but as converts to the
particular doctrines and practice of their Church.  The people thus
alleged to have concurred in the great schism of the Eastern Empire
are never, I believe, within the walls of a church, or even of any
building at all, except upon this occasion of Easter; and as they
then never fail to find a row of some kind going on by the side of
the sepulchre, they fancy, it seems, that the ceremonies there
enacted are funeral games of a martial character, held in honour of
a deceased chieftain, and that a Christian festival is a peculiar
kind of battle, fought between walls, and without cavalry.  It does
not appear, however, that these men are guilty of any ferocious
acts, or that they attempt to commit depredations.  The charge
against them is merely that by their way of applauding the
performance, by their horrible cries and frightful gestures, they
destroy the solemnity of divine service, and upon this ground the
Franciscans obtained a firman for the exclusion of such tumultuous
worshippers.  The Greeks, however, did not choose to lose the aid
of their wild converts merely because they were a little backward
in their religious education, and they therefore persuaded them to
defy the firman by entering the city en masse and overawing their
enemies.  The Franciscans, as well as the Government authorities,
were obliged to give way, and the Arabs triumphantly marched into
the church.  The festival, however, must have seemed to them rather
flat, for although there may have been some "casualties" in the way
of eyes black and noses bloody, and women "missing," there was no
return of "killed."

Formerly the Latin Catholics concurred in acknowledging (but not, I
hope, in working) the annual miracle of the heavenly fire, but they
have for many years withdrawn their countenance from this
exhibition, and they now repudiate it as a trick of the Greek
Church.  Thus of course the violence of feeling with which the
rival Churches meet at the Holy Sepulchre on Easter Saturday is
greatly increased, and a disturbance of some kind is certain.  In
the year I speak of, though no lives were lost, there was, as it
seems, a tough struggle in the church.  I was amused at hearing of
a taunt that was thrown that day upon an English traveller.  He had
taken his station in a convenient part of the church, and was no
doubt displaying that peculiar air of serenity and gratification
with which an English gentleman usually looks on at a row, when one
of the Franciscans came by, all reeking from the fight, and was so
disgusted at the coolness and placid contentment of the Englishman
(who was a guest at the convent), that he forgot his monkish
humility as well as the duties of hospitality, and plainly said,
"You sleep under our roof, you eat our bread, you drink our wine,
and then when Easter Saturday comes you don't fight for us!"

Yet these rival Churches go on quietly enough till their blood is
up.  The terms on which they live remind one of the peculiar
relation subsisting at Cambridge between "town and gown."

These contests and disturbances certainly do not originate with the
lay-pilgrims, the great body of whom are, as I believe, quiet and
inoffensive people.  It is true, however, that their pious
enterprise is believed by them to operate as a counterpoise for a
multitude of sins, whether past or future, and perhaps they exert
themselves in after life to restore the balance of good and evil.
The Turks have a maxim which, like most cynical apophthegms,
carries with it the buzzing trumpet of falsehood as well as the
small, fine "sting of truth."  "If your friend has made the
pilgrimage once, distrust him; if he has made the pilgrimage twice,
cut him dead!"  The caution is said to be as applicable to the
visitants of Jerusalem as to those of Mecca, but I cannot help
believing that the frailties of all the hadjis, {28} whether
Christian or Mahometan, are greatly exaggerated.  I certainly
regarded the pilgrims to Palestine as a well-disposed orderly body
of people, not strongly enthusiastic, but desirous to comply with
the ordinances of their religion, and to attain the great end of
salvation as quietly and economically as possible.

When the solemnities of Easter are concluded the pilgrims move off
in a body to complete their good work by visiting the sacred scenes
in the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, including the wilderness of John
the Baptist, Bethlehem, and above all, the Jordan, for to bathe in
those sacred waters is one of the chief objects of the expedition.
All the pilgrims--men, women, and children--are submerged en
chemise, and the saturated linen is carefully wrapped up and
preserved as a burial-dress that shall enure for salvation in the
realms of death.

I saw the burial of a pilgrim.  He was a Greek, miserably poor, and
very old; he had just crawled into the Holy City, and had reached
at once the goal of his pious journey and the end of his sufferings
upon earth.  There was no coffin nor wrapper, and as I looked full
upon the face of the dead I saw how deeply it was rutted with the
ruts of age and misery.  The priest, strong and portly, fresh, fat,
and alive with the life of the animal kingdom, unpaid, or ill paid
for his work, would scarcely deign to mutter out his forms, but
hurried over the words with shocking haste.   Presently he called
out impatiently, "Yalla!  Goor!" (Come! look sharp!), and then the
dead Greek was seized.  His limbs yielded inertly to the rude men
that handled them, and down he went into his grave, so roughly
bundled in that his neck was twisted by the fall, so twisted, that
if the sharp malady of life were still upon him the old man would
have shrieked and groaned, and the lines of his face would have
quivered with pain.  The lines of his face were not moved, and the
old man lay still and heedless, so well cured of that tedious life-
ache, that nothing could hurt him now.  His clay was ITSELF AGAIN--
cool, firm, and tough.  The pilgrim had found great rest.  I threw
the accustomed handful of the holy soil upon his patient face, and
then, and in less than a minute, the earth closed coldly round him.

I did not say "alas!" (nobody ever does that I know of, though the
word is so frequently written).  I thought the old man had got
rather well out of the scrape of being alive, and poor.

The destruction of the mere buildings in such a place as Jerusalem
would not involve the permanent dispersion of the inhabitants, for
the rocky neighbourhood in which the town is situate abounds in
caves, which would give an easy refuge to the people until they
gained an opportunity of rebuilding their dwellings; therefore I
could not help looking upon the Jews of Jerusalem as being in some
sort the representatives, if not the actual descendants, of the
rascals who crucified our Saviour.  Supposing this to be the case,
I felt that there would be some interest in knowing how the events
of the Gospel history were regarded by the Israelites of modern
Jerusalem. The result of my inquiry upon this subject was, so far
as it went, entirely favourable to the truth of Christianity.  I
understood that THE PERFORMANCE OF THE MIRACLES WAS NOT DOUBTED BY
ANY OF THE JEWS IN THE PLACE.  All of them concurred in attributing
the works of our Lord to the influence of magic, but they were
divided as to the species of enchantment from which the power
proceeded.  The great mass of the Jewish people believe, I fancy,
that the miracles had been wrought by aid of the powers of
darkness, but many, and those the more enlightened, would call
Jesus "the good Magician."  To Europeans repudiating the notion of
all magic, good or bad, the opinion of the Jews as to the agency by
which the miracles were worked is a matter of no importance; but
the circumstance of their admitting that those miracles WERE IN
FACT PERFORMED, is certainly curious, and perhaps not quite
immaterial.

If you stay in the Holy City long enough to fall into anything like
regular habits of amusement and occupation, and to become, in
short, for the time "a man about town" at Jerusalem, you will
necessarily lose the enthusiasm which you may have felt when you
trod the sacred soil for the first time, and it will then seem
almost strange to you to find yourself so entirely surrounded in
all your daily pursuits by the designs and sounds of religion.
Your hotel is a monastery, your rooms are cells, the landlord is a
stately abbot, and the waiters are hooded monks.  If you walk out
of the town you find yourself on the Mount of Olives, or in the
Valley of Jehoshaphat, or on the Hill of Evil Counsel.  If you
mount your horse and extend your rambles you will be guided to the
wilderness of St. John, or the birthplace of our Saviour.  Your
club is the great Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where everybody
meets everybody every day.  If you lounge through the town, your
Bond Street is the Via Dolorosa, and the object of your hopeless
affections is some maid or matron all forlorn, and sadly shrouded
in her pilgrim's robe.  If you would hear music, it must be the
chanting of friars; if you look at pictures, you see virgins with
mis-fore-shortened arms, or devils out of drawing, or angels
tumbling up the skies in impious perspective.  If you would make
any purchases, you must go again to the church doors, and when you
inquire for the manufactures of the place, you find that they
consist of double-blessed beads and sanctified shells.  These last
are the favourite tokens which the pilgrims carry off with them.
The shell is graven, or rather scratched, on the white side with a
rude drawing of the Blessed Virgin or of the Crucifixion or some
other scriptural subject.  Having passed this stage it goes into
the hands of a priest.  By him it is subjected to some process for
rendering it efficacious against the schemes of our ghostly enemy.
The manufacture is then complete, and is deemed to be fit for use.

The village of Bethlehem lies prettily couched on the slope of a
hill.  The sanctuary is a subterranean grotto, and is committed to
the joint-guardianship of the Romans, Greeks, and Armenians, who
vie with each other in adorning it.  Beneath an altar gorgeously
decorated, and lit with everlasting fires, there stands the low
slab of stone which marks the holy site of the Nativity; and near
to this is a hollow scooped out of the living rock.  Here the
infant Jesus was laid.  Near the spot of the Nativity is the rock
against which the Blessed Virgin was leaning when she presented her
babe to the adoring shepherds.

Many of those Protestants who are accustomed to despise tradition
consider that this sanctuary is altogether unscriptural, that a
grotto is not a stable, and that mangers are made of wood.  It is
perfectly true, however, that the many grottos and caves which are
found among the rocks of Judea were formerly used for the reception
of cattle.  They are so used at this day.  I have myself seen
grottos appropriated to this purpose.

You know what a sad and sombre decorum it is that outwardly reigns
through the lands oppressed by Moslem sway.  The Mahometans make
beauty their prisoner, and enforce such a stern and gloomy
morality, or at all events, such a frightfully close semblance of
it, that far and long the wearied traveller may go without catching
one glimpse of outward happiness.  By a strange chance in these
latter days it happened that, alone of all the places in the land,
this Bethlehem, the native village of our Lord, escaped the moral
yoke of the Mussulmans, and heard again, after ages of dull
oppression, the cheering clatter of social freedom, and the voices
of laughing girls.  It was after an insurrection, which had been
raised against the authority of Mehemet Ali, that Bethlehem was
freed from the hateful laws of Asiatic decorum.  The Mussulmans of
the village had taken an active part in the movement, and when
Ibrahim had quelled it, his wrath was still so hot, that he put to
death every one of the few Mahometans of Bethlehem who had not
already fled.  The effect produced upon the Christian inhabitants
by the sudden removal of this restraint was immense.  The village
smiled once more.  It is true that such sweet freedom could not
long endure.  Even if the population of the place should continue
to be entirely Christian, the sad decorum of the Mussulmans, or
rather of the Asiatics, would sooner or later be restored by the
force of opinion and custom.  But for a while the sunshine would
last, and when I was at Bethlehem, though long after the flight of
the Mussulmans, the cloud of Moslem propriety had not yet come back
to cast its cold shadow upon life.  When you reach that gladsome
village, pray Heaven there still may be heard there the voice of
free, innocent girls.  It will sound so dearly welcome!

To a Christian, and thoroughbred Englishman, not even the
licentiousness which generally accompanies it can compensate for
the oppressiveness of that horrible outward decorum, which turns
the cities and the palaces of Asia into deserts and gaols.  So, I
say, when you see and hear them, those romping girls of Bethlehem
will gladden your very soul.  Distant at first, and then nearer and
nearer the timid flock will gather around you, with their large
burning eyes gravely fixed against yours, so that they see into
your brain; and if you imagine evil against them, they will know of
your ill thought before it is yet well born, and will fly and be
gone in the moment.  But presently, if you will only look virtuous
enough to prevent alarm, and vicious enough to avoid looking silly,
the blithe maidens will draw nearer and nearer to you, and soon
there will be one, the bravest of the sisters, who will venture
right up to your side and touch the hem of your coat, in playful
defiance of the danger, and then the rest will follow the daring of
their youthful leader, and gather close round you, and hold a
shrill controversy on the wondrous formation that you call a hat,
and the cunning of the hands that clothed you with cloth so fine;
and then growing more profound in their researches, they will pass
from the study of your mere dress to a serious contemplation of
your stately height, and your nut-brown hair, and the ruddy glow of
your English cheeks.  And if they catch a glimpse of your ungloved
fingers, then again will they make the air ring with their sweet
screams of wonder and amazement, as they compare the fairness of
your hand with their warmer tints, and even with the hues of your
own sunburnt face.  Instantly the ringleader of the gentle rioters
imagines a new sin; with tremulous boldness she touches, then
grasps your hand, and smoothes it gently betwixt her own, and pries
curiously into its make and colour, as though it were silk of
Damascus, or shawl of Cashmere.  And when they see you even then
still sage and gentle, the joyous girls will suddenly and
screamingly, and all at once, explain to each other that you are
surely quite harmless and innocent, a lion that makes no spring, a
bear that never hugs, and upon this faith, one after the other,
they will take your passive hand, and strive to explain it, and
make it a theme and a controversy.  But the one, the fairest and
the sweetest of all, is yet the most timid; she shrinks from the
daring deeds of her play-mates, and seeks shelter behind their
sleeves, and strives to screen her glowing consciousness from the
eyes that look upon her.  But her laughing sisters will have none
of this cowardice; they vow that the fair one SHALL be their
'complice, SHALL share their dangers, SHALL touch the hand of the
stranger; they seize her small wrist, and drag her forward by
force, and at last, whilst yet she strives to turn away, and to
cover up her whole soul under the folds of downcast eyelids, they
vanquish her utmost strength, they vanquish your utmost modesty,
and marry her hand to yours.  The quick pulse springs from her
fingers, and throbs like a whisper upon your listening palm.  For
an instant her large timid eyes are upon you; in an instant they
are shrouded again, and there comes a blush so burning, that the
frightened girls stay their shrill laughter, as though they had
played too perilously, and harmed their gentle sister.  A moment,
and all with a sudden intelligence turn away and fly like deer, yet
soon again like deer they wheel round and return, and stand, and
gaze upon the danger, until they grow brave once more.

"I regret to observe, that the removal of the moral restraint
imposed by the presence of the Mahometan inhabitants has led to a
certain degree of boisterous, though innocent, levity in the
bearing of the Christians, and more especially in the demeanour of
those who belong to the younger portion of the female population;
but I feel assured that a more thorough knowledge of the principles
of their own pure religion will speedily restore these young people
to habits of propriety, even more strict than those which were
imposed upon them by the authority of their Mahometan brethren."
Bah! thus you might chant, if you chose; but loving the truth, you
will not so disown sweet Bethlehem; you will not disown or
dissemble your right good hearty delight when you find, as though
in a desert, this gushing spring of fresh and joyous girlhood.



CHAPTER XVII--THE DESERT



Gaza is upon the verge of the Desert, to which it stands in the
same relation as a seaport to the sea.  It is there that you
CHARTER your camels ("the ships of the Desert"), and lay in your
stores for the voyage.

These preparations kept me in the town for some days.  Disliking
restraint, I declined making myself the guest of the Governor (as
it is usual and proper to do), but took up my quarters at the
caravanserai, or "khan," as they call it in that part of Asia.

Dthemetri had to make the arrangements for my journey, and in order
to arm himself with sufficient authority for doing all that was
required, he found it necessary to put himself in communication
with the Governor.  The result of this diplomatic intercourse was
that the Governor, with his train of attendants, came to me one day
at my caravanserai, and formally complained that Dthemetri had
grossly insulted him.  I was shocked at this, for the man was
always attentive and civil to me, and I was disgusted at the idea
of his having been rewarded with insult.  Dthemetri was present
when the complaint was made, and I angrily asked him whether it was
true that he had really insulted the Governor, and what the deuce
he meant by it.  This I asked with the full certainty that
Dthemetri, as a matter of course, would deny the charge, would
swear that a "wrong construction had been put upon his words, and
that nothing was further from his thoughts," &c. &c., after the
manner of the parliamentary people, but to my surprise he very
plainly answered that he certainly HAD insulted the Governor, and
that rather grossly, but, he said, it was quite necessary to do
this in order to "strike terror and inspire respect."  "Terror and
respect!  What on earth do you mean by that nonsense?"--"Yes, but
without striking terror and inspiring respect, he (Dthemetri) would
never be able to force on the arrangements for my journey, and
vossignoria would be kept at Gaza for a month!"  This would have
been awkward, and certainly I could not deny that poor Dthemetri
had succeeded in his odd plan of inspiring respect, for at the very
time that this explanation was going on in Italian the Governor
seemed more than ever, and more anxiously, disposed to overwhelm me
with assurances of goodwill, and proffers of his best services.
All this kindness, or promise of kindness, I naturally received
with courtesy--a courtesy that greatly perturbed Dthemetri, for he
evidently feared that my civility would undo all the good that his
insults had achieved.

You will find, I think, that one of the greatest draw-backs to the
pleasure of travelling in Asia is the being obliged, more or less,
to make your way by bullying.  It is true that your own lips are
not soiled by the utterance of all the mean words that are spoken
for you, and that you don't even know of the sham threats, and the
false promises, and the vainglorious boasts, put forth by your
dragoman; but now and then there happens some incident of the sort
which I have just been mentioning, which forces you to believe, or
suspect, that your dragoman is habitually fighting your battles for
you in a way that you can hardly bear to think of.

A caravanserai is not ill adapted to the purposes for which it is
meant.  It forms the four sides of a large quadrangular court.  The
ground floor is used for warehouses, the first floor for guests,
and the open court for the temporary reception of the camels, as
well as for the loading and unloading of their burthens, and the
transaction of mercantile business generally.  The apartments used
for the guests are small cells opening into a corridor, which runs
round the four sides of the court.

Whilst I lay near the opening of my cell looking down into the
court below, there arrived from the Desert a caravan, that is, a
large assemblage of travellers.  It consisted chiefly of Moldavian
pilgrims, who to make their good work even more than complete had
begun by visiting the shrine of the Virgin in Egypt, and were now
going on to Jerusalem.  They had been overtaken in the Desert by a
gale of wind, which so drove the sand and raised up such mountains
before them, that their journey had been terribly perplexed and
obstructed, and their provisions (including water, the most
precious of all) had been exhausted long before they reached the
end of their toilsome march.  They were sadly wayworn.  The arrival
of the caravan drew many and various groups into the court.  There
was the Moldavian pilgrim with his sable dress and cap of fur and
heavy masses of bushy hair; the Turk, with his various and
brilliant garments; the Arab, superbly stalking under his striped
blanket, that hung like royalty upon his stately form; the jetty
Ethiopian in his slavish frock; the sleek, smooth-faced scribe with
his comely pelisse, and his silver ink-box stuck in like a dagger
at his girdle.  And mingled with these were the camels, some
standing, some kneeling and being unladen, some twisting round
their long necks, and gently stealing the straw from out of their
own pack-saddles.

In a couple of days I was ready to start.  The way of providing for
the passage of the Desert is this:  there is an agent in the town
who keeps himself in communication with some of the desert Arabs
that are hovering within a day's journey of the place.  A party of
these upon being guaranteed against seizure or other ill-treatment
at the hands of the Governor come into the town, bringing with them
the number of camels which you require, and then they stipulate for
a certain sum to take you to the place of your destination in a
given time.  The agreement which they thus enter into includes a
safe conduct through their country as well as the hire of the
camels.  According to the contract made with me I was to reach
Cairo within ten days from the commencement of the journey.  I had
four camels, one for my baggage, one for each of my servants, and
one for myself.  Four Arabs, the owners of the camels, came with me
on foot.  My stores were a small soldier's tent, two bags of dried
bread brought from the convent at Jerusalem, and a couple of
bottles of wine from the same source, two goat-skins filled with
water, tea, sugar, a cold tongue, and (of all things in the world)
a jar of Irish butter which Mysseri had purchased from some
merchant.  There was also a small sack of charcoal, for the greater
part of the Desert through which we were to pass is destitute of
fuel.

The camel kneels to receive her load, and for a while she will
allow the packing to go on with silent resignation; but when she
begins to suspect that her master is putting more than a just
burthen upon her poor hump she turns round her supple neck and
looks sadly upon the increasing load, and then gently remonstrates
against the wrong with the sigh of a patient wife.  If sighs will
not move you, she can weep.  You soon learn to pity, and soon to
love, her for the sake of her gentle and womanish ways.

You cannot, of course, put an English or any other riding saddle
upon the back of the camel, but your quilt or carpet, or whatever
you carry for the purpose of lying on at night, is folded and
fastened on to the pack-saddle upon the top of the hump, and on
this you ride, or rather sit.  You sit as a man sits on a chair
when he sits astride and faces the back of it.  I made an
improvement on this plan.  I had my English stirrups strapped on to
the cross-bars of the pack-saddle, and thus by gaining rest for my
dangling legs, and gaining too the power of varying my position
more easily than I could otherwise have done, I added very much to
my comfort.  Don't forget to do as I did.

The camel, like the elephant, is one of the old-fashioned sort of
animals that still walk along upon the (now nearly exploded) plan
of the ancient beasts that lived before the Flood.  She moves
forward both her near legs at the same time, and then awkwardly
swings round her off shoulder and haunch so as to repeat the
manoeuvre on that side.  Her pace, therefore, is an odd, disjointed
and disjoining, sort of movement that is rather disagreeable at
first, but you soon grow reconciled to it.  The height to which you
are raised is of great advantage to you in passing the burning
sands of the Desert, for the air at such a distance from the ground
is much cooler and more lively than that which circulates beneath.

For several miles beyond Gaza the land, which had been plentifully
watered by the rains of the last week, was covered with rich
verdure, and thickly jewelled with meadow flowers so fresh and
fragrant, that I began to grow almost uneasy, to fancy that the
very Desert was receding before me, and that the long-desired
adventure of passing its "burning sands" was to end in a mere ride
across a field.  But as I advanced the true character of the
country began to display itself with sufficient clearness to dispel
my apprehensions, and before the close of my first day's journey I
had the gratification of finding that I was surrounded on all sides
by a tract of real sand, and had nothing at all to complain of
except that there peeped forth at intervals a few isolated blades
of grass, and many of those stunted shrubs which are the accustomed
food of the camel.

Before sunset I came up with an encampment of Arabs (the encampment
from which my camels had been brought), and my tent was pitched
amongst theirs.  I was now amongst the true Bedouins.  Almost every
man of this race closely resembles his brethren.  Almost every man
has large and finely-formed features; but his face is so thoroughly
stripped of flesh, and the white folds from his headgear fall down
by his haggard cheeks so much in the burial fashion, that he looks
quite sad and ghastly.  His large dark orbs roll slowly and
solemnly over the white of his deep-set eyes; his countenance shows
painful thought and long-suffering, the suffering of one fallen
from a high estate.  His gait is strangely majestic, and he marches
along with his simple blanket as though he were wearing the purple.
His common talk is a series of piercing screams and cries, {29}
more painful to the ear than the most excruciating fine music that
I ever endured.

The Bedouin women are not treasured up like the wives and daughters
of other Orientals, and indeed they seemed almost entirely free
from the restraints imposed by jealousy.  The feint which they made
of concealing their faces from me was always slight.  They never, I
think, wore the yashmak properly fixed.  When they first saw me
they used to hold up a part of their drapery with one hand across
their faces, but they seldom persevered very steadily in subjecting
me to this privation.  Unhappy beings! they were sadly plain.  The
awful haggardness that gave something of character to the faces of
the men was sheer ugliness in the poor women.  It is a great shame,
but the truth is that, except when we refer to the beautiful
devotion of the mother to her child, all the fine things we say and
think about woman apply only to those who are tolerably good-
looking or graceful.  These Arab women were so plain and clumsy,
that they seemed to me to be fit for nothing but another and a
better world.  They may have been good women enough so far as
relates to the exercise of the minor virtues, but they had so
grossly neglected the prime duty of looking pretty in this
transitory life, that I could not at all forgive them.  They seemed
to feel the weight of their guilt, and to be truly and humbly
penitent.  I had the complete command of their affections, for at
any moment I could make their young hearts bound and their old
hearts jump by offering a handful of tobacco, and yet, believe me,
it was not in the first soiree that my store of Latakia was
exhausted.

The Bedouin women have no religion.  This is partly the cause of
their clumsiness.  Perhaps if from Christian girls they would learn
how to pray, their souls might become more gentle, and their limbs
be clothed with grace.  You who are going into their country have a
direct personal interest in knowing something about "Arab
hospitality"; but the deuce of it is, that the poor fellows with
whom I have happened to pitch my tent were scarcely ever in a
condition to exercise that magnanimous virtue with much eclat.
Indeed, Mysseri's canteen generally enabled me to outdo my hosts in
the matter of entertainment.  They were always courteous, however,
and were never backward in offering me the youart, a kind of whey,
which is the principal delicacy to be found amongst the wandering
tribes.

Practically, I think, Childe Harold would have found it a dreadful
bore to make "the Desert his dwelling-place," for at all events, if
he adopted the life of the Arabs he would have tasted no solitude.
The tents are partitioned, not so as to divide the Childe and the
"fair spirit" who is his "minister" from the rest of the world, but
so as to separate the twenty or thirty brown men that sit screaming
in the one compartment from the fifty or sixty brown women and
children that scream and squeak in the other.  If you adopt the
Arab life for the sake of seclusion you will be horribly
disappointed, for you will find yourself in perpetual contact with
a mass of hot fellow-creatures.  It is true that all who are
inmates of the same tent are related to each other, but I am not
quite sure that that circumstance adds much to the charm of such a
life.  At all events, before you finally determine to become an
Arab try a gentle experiment.  Take one of those small, shabby
houses in May Fair, and shut yourself up in it with forty or fifty
shrill cousins for a couple of weeks in July.

In passing the Desert you will find your Arabs wanting to start and
to rest at all sorts of odd times.  They like, for instance, to be
off at one in the morning, and to rest during the whole of the
afternoon.  You must not give way to their wishes in this respect.
I tried their plan once, and found it very harassing and
unwholesome.  An ordinary tent can give you very little protection
against heat, for the fire strikes fiercely through single canvas,
and you soon find that whilst you lie crouching and striving to
hide yourself from the blazing face of the sun, his power is harder
to bear than it is where you boldly defy him from the airy heights
of your camel.

It had been arranged with my Arabs that they were to bring with
them all the food which they would want for themselves during the
passage of the Desert, but as we rested at the end of the first
day's journey by the side of an Arab encampment, my camel men found
all that they required for that night in the tents of their own
brethren.  On the evening of the second day, however, just before
we encamped for the night, my four Arabs came to Dthemetri, and
formally announced that they had not brought with them one atom of
food, and that they looked entirely to my supplies for their daily
bread.  This was awkward intelligence.  We were now just two days
deep in the Desert, and I had brought with me no more bread than
might be reasonably required for myself and my European attendants.
I believed at the moment (for it seemed likely enough) that the men
had really mistaken the terms of the arrangement, and feeling that
the bore of being put upon half-rations would be a less evil (and
even to myself a less inconvenience) than the starvation of my
Arabs, I at once told Dthemetri to assure them that my bread should
be equally shared with all.  Dthemetri, however, did not approve of
this concession; he assured me quite positively that the Arabs
thoroughly understood the agreement, and that if they were now
without food they had wilfully brought themselves into this strait
for the wretched purpose of bettering their bargain by the value of
a few paras' worth of bread.  This suggestion made me look at the
affair in a new light.  I should have been glad enough to put up
with the slight privation to which my concession would subject me,
and could have borne to witness the semi-starvation of poor
Dthemetri with a fine, philosophical calm, but it seemed to me that
the scheme, if scheme it were, had something of audacity in it, and
was well enough calculated to try the extent of my softness.  I
well knew the danger of allowing such a trial to result in a
conclusion that I was one who might be easily managed; and
therefore, after thoroughly satisfying myself from Dthemetri's
clear and repeated assertions that the Arabs had really understood
the arrangement, I determined that they should not now violate it
by taking advantage of my position in the midst of their big
Desert, so I desired Dthemetri to tell them that they should touch
no bread of mine.  We stopped, and the tent was pitched.  The Arabs
came to me, and prayed loudly for bread.  I refused them.

"Then we die!"

"God's will be done!"

I gave the Arabs to understand that I regretted their perishing by
hunger, but that I should bear this calmly, like any other
misfortune not my own, that, in short, I was happily resigned to
THEIR fate.  The men would have talked a great deal, but they were
under the disadvantage of addressing me through a hostile
interpreter; they looked hard upon my face, but they found no hope
there; so at last they retired as they pretended, to lay them down
and die.

In about ten minutes from this time I found that the Arabs were
busily cooking their bread!  Their pretence of having brought no
food was false, and was only invented for the purpose of saving it.
They had a good bag of meal, which they had contrived to stow away
under the baggage upon one of the camels in such a way as to escape
notice.  In Europe the detection of a scheme like this would have
occasioned a disagreeable feeling between the master and the
delinquent, but you would no more recoil from an Oriental on
account of a matter of this sort, than in England you would reject
a horse that had tried, and failed, to throw you.  Indeed, I felt
quite good-humouredly towards my Arabs, because they had so
woefully failed in their wretched attempt, and because, as it
turned out, I had done what was right.  They too, poor fellows,
evidently began to like me immensely, on account of the hard-
heartedness which had enabled me to baffle their scheme.

The Arabs adhere to those ancestral principles of bread-baking
which have been sanctioned by the experience of ages.  The very
first baker of bread that ever lived must have done his work
exactly as the Arab does at this day.  He takes some meal and holds
it out in the hollow of his hands, whilst his comrade pours over it
a few drops of water; he then mashes up the moistened flour into a
paste, which he pulls into small pieces, and thrusts into the
embers.  His way of baking exactly resembles the craft or mystery
of roasting chestnuts as practised by children; there is the same
prudence and circumspection in choosing a good berth for the
morsel, the same enterprise and self-sacrificing valour in pulling
it out with the fingers.

The manner of my daily march was this.  At about an hour before
dawn I rose and made the most of about a pint of water, which I
allowed myself for washing.  Then I breakfasted upon tea and bread.
As soon as the beasts were loaded I mounted my camel and pressed
forward.  My poor Arabs, being on foot, would sometimes moan with
fatigue and pray for rest; but I was anxious to enable them to
perform their contract for bringing me to Cairo within the
stipulated time, and I did not therefore allow a halt until the
evening came.  About midday, or soon after, Mysseri used to bring
up his camel alongside of mine, and supply me with a piece of bread
softened in water (for it was dried hard like board), and also (as
long as it lasted) with a piece of the tongue; after this there
came into my hand (how well I remember it) the little tin cup half-
filled with wine and water.

As long as you are journeying in the interior of the Desert you
have no particular point to make for as your resting-place.  The
endless sands yield nothing but small stunted shrubs; even these
fail after the first two or three days, and from that time you pass
over broad plains, you pass over newly-reared hills, you pass
through valleys that the storm of the last week has dug, and the
hills and the valleys are sand, sand, sand, still sand, and only
sand, and sand and sand again.  The earth is so samely that your
eyes turn towards heaven--towards heaven, I mean, in the sense of
sky.  You look to the sun, for he is your task-master, and by him
you know the measure of the work that you have done, and the
measure of the work that remains for you to do.  He comes when you
strike your tent in the early morning, and then, for the first hour
of the day as you move forward on your camel, he stands at your
near side and makes you know that the whole day's toil is before
you; then for a while, and a long while, you see him no more, for
you are veiled and shrouded, and dare not look upon the greatness
of his glory, but you know where he strides overhead by the touch
of his flaming sword.  No words are spoken, but your Arabs moan,
your camels sigh, your skin glows, your shoulders ache, and for
sights you see the pattern and the web of the silk that veils your
eyes and the glare of the outer light.  Time labours on; your skin
glows and your shoulders ache, your Arabs moan, your camels sigh,
and you see the same pattern in the silk, and the same glare of
light beyond, but conquering Time marches on, and by-and-by the
descending sun has compassed the heaven, and now softly touches
your right arm, and throws your lank shadow over the sand right
along on the way to Persia.  Then again you look upon his face, for
his power is all veiled in his beauty, and the redness of flames
has become the redness of roses; the fair, wavy cloud that fled in
the morning now comes to his sight once more, comes blushing, yet
still comes on, comes burning with blushes, yet hastens and clings
to his side.

Then arrives your time for resting.  The world about you is all
your own, and there, where you will, you pitch your solitary tent;
there is no living thing to dispute your choice.  When at last the
spot had been fixed upon and we came to a halt, one of the Arabs
would touch the chest of my camel and utter at the same time a
peculiar gurgling sound.  The beast instantly understood and obeyed
the sign, and slowly sunk under me till she brought her body to a
level with the ground, then gladly enough I alighted.  The rest of
the camels were unloaded and turned loose to browse upon the shrubs
of the desert, where shrubs there were, or where these failed, to
wait for the small quantity of food that was allowed them out of
our stores.

My servants, helped by the Arabs, busied themselves in pitching the
tent and kindling the fire.  Whilst this was doing I used to walk
away towards the east, confiding in the print of my foot as a guide
for my return.  Apart from the cheering voices of my attendants I
could better know and feel the loneliness of the Desert.  The
influence of such scenes, however, was not of a softening kind, but
filled me rather with a sort of childish exultation in the self-
sufficiency which enabled me to stand thus alone in the wideness of
Asia--a short-lived pride, for wherever man wanders he still
remains tethered by the chain that links him to his kind; and so
when the night closed around me I began to return, to return, as it
were, to my own gate.  Reaching at last some high ground I could
see, and see with delight, the fire of our small encampment, and
when at last I regained the spot it seemed to me a very home that
had sprung up for me in the midst of these solitudes.  My Arabs
were busy with their bread; Mysseri rattling tea-cups; the little
kettle, with her odd old-maidish looks, sat humming away old songs
about England; and two or three yards from the fire my tent stood
prim and tight, with open portal, and with welcoming look, like
"the old arm-chair" of our lyrist's "sweet Lady Anne."

At the beginning of my journey the night breeze blew coldly; when
that happened, the dry sand was heaped up outside round the skirts
of the tent, and so the wind, that everywhere else could sweep as
he listed along those dreary plains, was forced to turn aside in
his course and make way, as he ought, for the Englishman.  Then
within my tent there were heaps of luxuries--dining-rooms,
dressing-rooms, libraries, bedrooms, drawing-rooms, oratories, all
crowded into the space of a hearthrug.  The first night, I
remember, with my books and maps about me, I wanted light; they
brought me a taper, and immediately from out of the silent Desert
there rushed in a flood of life unseen before.  Monsters of moths,
of all shapes and hues, that never before perhaps had looked upon
the shining of a flame, now madly thronged into my tent, and dashed
through the fire of the candle till they fairly extinguished it
with their burning limbs.  Those who had failed in attaining this
martyrdom suddenly became serious, and clung despondingly to the
canvas.

By-and-by there was brought to me the fragrant tea and big masses
of scorched and scorching toast, and the butter that had come all
the way to me in this Desert of Asia from out of that poor, dear,
starving Ireland.  I feasted like a king, like four kings, like a
boy in the fourth form.

When the cold, sullen morning dawned, and my people began to load
the camels, I always felt loth to give back to the waste this
little spot of ground that had glowed for a while with the
cheerfulness of a human dwelling.  One by one the cloaks, the
saddles, the baggage, the hundred things that strewed the ground
and made it look so familiar--all these were taken away and laid
upon the camels.  A speck in the broad tracts of Asia remained
still impressed with the mark of patent portmanteaus and the heels
of London boots; the embers of the fire lay black and cold upon the
sand, and these were the signs we left.

My tent was spared to the last, but when all else was ready for the
start then came its fall; the pegs were drawn, the canvas shivered,
and in less than a minute there was nothing that remained of my
genial home but only a pole and a bundle.  The encroaching
Englishman was off, and instant upon the fall of the canvas, like
an owner who had waited and watched, the genius of the Desert
stalked in.

To servants, as I suppose of any other Europeans not much
accustomed to amuse themselves by fancy or memory, it often happens
that after a few days journeying the loneliness of the Desert will
become frightfully oppressive.  Upon my poor fellows the access of
melancholy came heavy, and all at once, as a blow from above; they
bent their necks, and bore it as best they could, but their joy was
great on the fifth day when we came to an oasis called Gatieh, for
here we found encamped a caravan (that is, an assemblage of
travellers) from Cairo.  The Orientals living in cities never pass
the Desert except in this way; many will wait for weeks, and even
for months, until a sufficient number of persons can be found ready
to undertake the journey at the same time--until the flock of sheep
is big enough to fancy itself a match for wolves.  They could not,
I think, really secure themselves against any serious danger by
this contrivance, for though they have arms, they are so little
accustomed to use them, and so utterly unorganised, that they never
could make good their resistance to robbers of the slightest
respectability.  It is not of the Bedouins that such travellers are
afraid, for the safe conduct granted by the chief of the ruling
tribe is never, I believe, violated, but it is said that there are
deserters and scamps of various sorts who hover about the skirts of
the Desert, particularly on the Cairo side, and are anxious to
succeed to the property of any poor devils whom they may find more
weak and defenceless than themselves.

These people from Cairo professed to be amazed at the ludicrous
disproportion between their numerical forces and mine.  They could
not understand, and they wanted to know, by what strange privilege
it is that an Englishman with a brace of pistols and a couple of
servants rides safely across the Desert, whilst they, the natives
of the neighbouring cities, are forced to travel in troops, or
rather in herds.  One of them got a few minutes of private
conversation with Dthemetri, and ventured to ask him anxiously
whether the English did not travel under the protection of evil
demons.  I had previously known (from Methley, I think, who had
travelled in Persia) that this notion, so conducive to the safety
of our countrymen, is generally prevalent amongst Orientals.  It
owes its origin, partly to the strong wilfulness of the English
gentleman (which not being backed by any visible authority, either
civil or military, seems perfectly superhuman to the soft Asiatic),
but partly too to the magic of the banking system, by force of
which the wealthy traveller will make all his journeys without
carrying a handful of coin, and yet when he arrives at a city will
rain down showers of gold.  The theory is, that the English
traveller has committed some sin against God and his conscience,
and that for this the evil spirit has hold of him, and drives him
from his home like a victim of the old Grecian furies, and forces
him to travel over countries far and strange, and most chiefly over
deserts and desolate places, and to stand upon the sites of cities
that once were and are now no more, and to grope among the tombs of
dead men.  Often enough there is something of truth in this notion;
often enough the wandering Englishman is guilty (if guilt it be) of
some pride or ambition, big or small, imperial or parochial, which
being offended has made the lone place more tolerable than
ballrooms to him, a sinner.

I can understand the sort of amazement of the Orientals at the
scantiness of the retinue with which an Englishman passes the
Desert, for I was somewhat struck myself when I saw one of my
countrymen making his way across the wilderness in this simple
style.  At first there was a mere moving speck on the horizon.  My
party of course became all alive with excitement, and there were
many surmises.  Soon it appeared that three laden camels were
approaching, and that two of them carried riders.  In a little
while we saw that one of the riders wore the European dress, and at
last the travellers were pronounced to be an English gentleman and
his servant.  By their side there were a couple, I think, of Arabs
on foot, and this was the whole party.

You, you love sailing; in returning from a cruise to the English
coast you see often enough a fisherman's humble boat far away from
all shores, with an ugly black sky above and an angry sea beneath.
You watch the grizzly old man at the helm carrying his craft with
strange skill through the turmoil of waters, and the boy, supple-
limbed, yet weather-worn already, and with steady eyes that look
through the blast, you see him understanding commandments from the
jerk of his father's white eyebrow, now belaying and now letting
go, now scrunching himself down into mere ballast, or baling out
death with a pipkin.  Stale enough is the sight, and yet when I see
it I always stare anew, and with a kind of Titanic exultation,
because that a poor boat with the brain of a man and the hands of a
boy on board can match herself so bravely against black heaven and
ocean.  Well, so when you have travelled for days and days over an
Eastern desert without meeting the likeness of a human being, and
then at last see an English shooting-jacket and his servant come
listlessly slouching along from out of the forward horizon, you
stare at the wide unproportion between this slender company and the
boundless plains of sand through which they are keeping their way.

This Englishman, as I afterwards found, was a military man
returning to his country from India, and crossing the Desert at
this part in order to go through Palestine.  As for me, I had come
pretty straight from England, and so here we met in the wilderness
at about half-way from our respective starting-points.  As we
approached each other it became with me a question whether we
should speak.  I thought it likely that the stranger would accost
me, and in the event of his doing so I was quite ready to be as
sociable and chatty as I could be according to my nature; but still
I could not think of anything particular that I had to say to him.
Of course, among civilised people the not having anything to say is
no excuse at all for not speaking, but I was shy and indolent, and
I felt no great wish to stop and talk like a morning visitor in the
midst of those broad solitudes.  The traveller perhaps felt as I
did, for except that we lifted our hands to our caps and waved our
arms in courtesy, we passed each other as if we had passed in Bond
Street.  Our attendants, however, were not to be cheated of the
delight that they felt in speaking to new listeners and hearing
fresh voices once more.  The masters, therefore, had no sooner
passed each other than their respective servants quietly stopped
and entered into conversation.  As soon as my camel found that her
companions were not following her she caught the social feeling and
refused to go on.  I felt the absurdity of the situation, and
determined to accost the stranger if only to avoid the awkwardness
of remaining stuck fast in the Desert whilst our servants were
amusing themselves.  When with this intent I turned round my camel
I found that the gallant officer who had passed me by about thirty
or forty yards was exactly in the same predicament as myself.  I
put my now willing camel in motion and rode up towards the
stranger, who seeing this followed my example and came forward to
meet me.  He was the first to speak.  He was much too courteous to
address me as if he admitted the possibility of my wishing to
accost him from any feeling of mere sociability or civilian-like
love of vain talk.  On the contrary, he at once attributed my
advances to a laudable wish of acquiring statistical information,
and accordingly, when we got within speaking distance, he said, "I
dare say you wish to know how the plague is going on at Cairo?"
And then he went on to say, he regretted that his information did
not enable him to give me in numbers a perfectly accurate statement
of the daily deaths.  He afterwards talked pleasantly enough upon
other and less ghastly subjects.  I thought him manly and
intelligent, a worthy one of the few thousand strong Englishmen to
whom the empire of India is committed.

The night after the meeting with the people of the caravan,
Dthemetri, alarmed by their warnings, took upon himself to keep
watch all night in the tent.  No robbers came except a jackal, that
poked his nose into my tent from some motive of rational curiosity.
Dthemetri did not shoot him for fear of waking me.  These brutes
swarm in every part of Syria, and there were many of them even in
the midst of the void sands, that would seem to give such poor
promise of food.  I can hardly tell what prey they could be hoping
for, unless it were that they might find now and then the carcass
of some camel that had died on the journey.  They do not marshal
themselves into great packs like the wild dogs of Eastern cities,
but follow their prey in families, like the place-hunters of
Europe.  Their voices are frightfully like to the shouts and cries
of human beings.  If you lie awake in your tent at night you are
almost continually hearing some hungry family as it sweeps along in
full cry.  You hear the exulting scream with which the sagacious
dam first winds the carrion, and the shrill response of the
unanimous cubs as they sniff the tainted air, "Wha! wha! wha! wha!
wha! wha!  Whose gift is it in, mamma?"

Once during this passage my Arabs lost their way among the hills of
loose sand that surrounded us, but after a while we were lucky
enough to recover our right line of march.  The same day we fell in
with a Sheik, the head of a family, that actually dwells at no
great distance from this part of the Desert during nine months of
the year.  The man carried a matchlock, of which he was very proud.
We stopped and sat down and rested awhile for the sake of a little
talk.  There was much that I should have liked to ask this man, but
he could not understand Dthemetri's language, and the process of
getting at his knowledge by double interpretation through my Arabs
was unsatisfactory.  I discovered, however (and my Arabs knew of
that fact), that this man and his family lived habitually for nine
months of the year without touching or seeing either bread or
water.  The stunted shrub growing at intervals through the sand in
this part of the Desert enables the camel mares to yield a little
milk, which furnishes the sole food and drink of their owner and
his people.  During the other three months (the hottest of the
months, I suppose) even this resource fails, and then the Sheik and
his people are forced to pass into another district.  You would ask
me why the man should not remain always in that district which
supplies him with water during three months of the year, but I
don't know enough of Arab politics to answer the question.  The
Sheik was not a good specimen of the effect produced by the diet to
which he is subjected.  He was very small, very spare, and sadly
shrivelled, a poor, over-roasted snipe, a mere cinder of a man.  I
made him sit down by my side, and gave him a piece of bread and a
cup of water from out of my goat-skins.  This was not very tempting
drink to look at, for it had become turbid, and was deeply reddened
by some colouring matter contained in the skins, but it kept its
sweetness, and tasted like a strong decoction of russia leather.
The Sheik sipped this, drop by drop, with ineffable relish, and
rolled his eyes solemnly round between every draught, as though the
drink were the drink of the Prophet, and had come from the seventh
heaven.

An inquiry about distances led to the discovery that this Sheik had
never heard of the division of time into hours; my Arabs
themselves, I think, were rather surprised at this.

About this part of my journey I saw the likeness of a fresh-water
lake.  I saw, as it seemed, a broad sheet of calm water, that
stretched far and fair towards the south, stretching deep into
winding creeks, and hemmed in by jutting promontories, and shelving
smooth off towards the shallow side.  On its bosom the reflected
fire of the sun lay playing, and seeming to float upon waters deep
and still.

Though I knew of the cheat, it was not till the spongy foot of my
camel had almost trodden in the seeming waters that I could
undeceive my eyes, for the shore-line was quite true and natural.
I soon saw the cause of the phantasm.  A sheet of water heavily
impregnated with salts had filled this great hollow, and when dried
up by evaporation had left a white saline deposit, that exactly
marked the space which the waters had covered, and thus sketched a
good shore-line.  The minute crystals of the salt sparkled in the
sun, and so looked like the face of a lake that is calm and smooth.

The pace of the camel is irksome, and makes your shoulders and
loins ache from the peculiar way in which you are obliged to suit
yourself to the movements of the beast, but you soon of course
become inured to this, and after the first two days this way of
travelling became so familiar to me, that (poor sleeper as I am) I
now and then slumbered for some moments together on the back of my
camel.  On the fifth day of my journey the air above lay dead, and
all the whole earth that I could reach with my utmost sight and
keenest listening was still and lifeless as some dispeopled and
forgotten world that rolls round and round in the heavens through
wasted floods of light.  The sun growing fiercer and fiercer shone
down more mightily now than ever on me he shone before, and as I
dropped my head under his fire, and closed my eyes against the
glare that surrounded me, I slowly fell asleep, for how many
minutes or moments I cannot tell, but after a while I was gently
awakened by a peal of church bells, my native bells, the innocent
bells of Marlen, that never before sent forth their music beyond
the Blaygon hills!  My first idea naturally was, that I still
remained fast under the power of a dream.  I roused myself and drew
aside the silk that covered my eyes, and plunged my bare face into
the light.  Then at least I was well enough wakened, but still
those old Marlen bells rung on, not ringing for joy, but properly,
prosily, steadily, merrily ringing "for church."  After a while the
sound died away slowly.  It happened that neither I nor any of my
party had a watch by which to measure the exact time of its
lasting, but it seemed to me that about ten minutes had passed
before the bells ceased.  I attributed the effect to the great heat
of the sun, the perfect dryness of the clear air through which I
moved, and the deep stillness of all around me.  It seemed to me
that these causes, by occasioning a great tension, and consequent
susceptibility, of the hearing organs had rendered them liable to
tingle under the passing touch of some mere memory that must have
swept across my brain in a moment of sleep.  Since my return to
England it has been told me that like sounds have been heard at
sea, and that the sailor becalmed under a vertical sun in the midst
of the wide ocean has listened in trembling wonder to the chime of
his own village bells.

At this time I kept a poor shabby pretence of a journal, which just
enabled me to know the day of the month and the week according to
the European calendar, and when in my tent at night I got out my
pocket-book I found that the day was Sunday, and roughly allowing
for the difference of time in this longitude, I concluded that at
the moment of my hearing that strange peal the church-going bells
of Marlen must have been actually calling the prim congregation of
the parish to morning prayer.  The coincidence amused me faintly,
but I could not pluck up the least hope that the effect which I had
experienced was anything other than an illusion, an illusion liable
to be explained (as every illusion is in these days) by some of the
philosophers who guess at Nature's riddles.  It would have been
sweeter to believe that my kneeling mother by some pious
enchantment had asked, and found, this spell to rouse me from my
scandalous forgetfulness of God's holy day, but my fancy was too
weak to carry a faith like that.  Indeed, the vale through which
the bells of Marlen send their song is a highly respectable vale,
and its people (save one, two, or three) are wholly unaddicted to
the practice of magical arts.

After the fifth day of my journey I no longer travelled over
shifting hills, but came upon a dead level, a dead level bed of
sand, quite hard, and studded with small shining pebbles.

The heat grew fierce; there was no valley nor hollow, no hill, no
mound, no shadow of hill nor of mound, by which I could mark the
way I was making.  Hour by hour I advanced, and saw no change--I
was still the very centre of a round horizon; hour by hour I
advanced, and still there was the same, and the same, and the same-
-the same circle of flaming sky--the same circle of sand still
glaring with light and fire.  Over all the heaven above, over all
the earth beneath, there was no visible power that could balk the
fierce will of the sun:  "he rejoiced as a strong man to run a
race; his going forth was from the end of the heaven, and his
circuit unto the ends of it; and there was nothing hid from the
heat thereof."  From pole to pole, and from the east to the west,
he brandished his fiery sceptre as though he had usurped all heaven
and earth.  As he bid the soft Persian in ancient times, so now,
and fiercely too, he bid me bow down and worship him; so now in his
pride he seemed to command me, and say, "Thou shalt have none other
gods but me."  I was all alone before him.  There were these two
pitted together, and face to face--the mighty sun for one, and for
the other this poor, pale, solitary self of mine, that I always
carry about with me.

But on the eighth day, and before I had yet turned away from
Jehovah for the glittering god of the Persians, there appeared a
dark line upon the edge of the forward horizon, and soon the line
deepened into a delicate fringe, that sparkled here and there as
though it were sewn with diamonds.  There, then, before me were the
gardens and the minarets of Egypt and the mighty works of the Nile,
and I (the eternal Ego that I am!)--I had lived to see, and I saw
them.

When evening came I was still within the confines of the Desert,
and my tent was pitched as usual; but one of my Arabs stalked away
rapidly towards the west, without telling me of the errand on which
he was bent.  After a while he returned; he had toiled on a
graceful service; he had travelled all the way on to the border of
the living world, and brought me back for token an ear of rice,
full, fresh, and green.

The next day I entered upon Egypt, and floated along (for the
delight was as the delight of bathing) through green wavy fields of
rice, and pastures fresh and plentiful, and dived into the cold
verdure of groves and gardens, and quenched my hot eyes in shade,
as though in deep, rushing waters.



CHAPTER XVIII--CAIRO AND THE PLAGUE {30}



Cairo and plague!  During the whole time of my stay the plague was
so master of the city, and showed itself so staringly in every
street and every alley, that I can't now affect to dissociate the
two ideas.

When coming from the Desert I rode through a village which lies
near to the city on the eastern side, there approached me with busy
face and earnest gestures a personage in the Turkish dress.  His
long flowing beard gave him rather a majestic look, but his
briskness of manner, and his visible anxiety to accost me, seemed
strange in an Oriental.  The man in fact was French, or of French
origin, and his object was to warn me of the plague, and prevent me
from entering the city.

"Arretez-vous, monsieur, je vous en prie--arretez-vous; il ne faut
pas entrer dans la ville; la peste y regne partout."

"Oui, je sais,{31} mais--"

"Mais monsieur, je dis la peste--la peste; c'est de LA PESTE, qu'il
est question."

"Oui, je sais, mais--"

"Mais monsieur, je dis encore LA PESTE--LA PESTE.  Je vous conjure
de ne pas entrer dans la ville--vous seriez dans une ville
empestee."

"Oui, je sais, mais--"

"Mais monsieur, je dois donc vous avertir tout bonnement que si
vous entrez dans la ville, vous serez--enfin vous serez COMPROMIS!"
{32}

"Oui, je sais, mais--"

 The Frenchman was at last convinced that it was vain to reason
with a mere Englishman, who could not understand what it was to be
"compromised."  I thanked him most sincerely for his kindly meant
warning; in hot countries it is very unusual indeed for a man to go
out in the glare of the sun and give free advice to a stranger.

When I arrived at Cairo I summoned Osman Effendi, who was, as I
knew, the owner of several houses, and would be able to provide me
with apartments.  He had no difficulty in doing this, for there was
not one European traveller in Cairo besides myself.  Poor Osman! he
met me with a sorrowful countenance, for the fear of the plague sat
heavily on his soul.  He seemed as if he felt that he was doing
wrong in lending me a resting-place, and he betrayed such a
listlessness about temporal matters, as one might look for in a man
who believed that his days were numbered.  He caught me too soon
after my arrival coming out from the public baths, {33} and from
that time forward he was sadly afraid of me, for he shared the
opinions of Europeans with respect to the effect of contagion.

Osman's history is a curious one.  He was a Scotchman born, and
when very young, being then a drummer-boy, he landed in Egypt with
Fraser's force.  He was taken prisoner, and according to Mahometan
custom, the alternative of death or the Koran was offered to him;
he did not choose death, and therefore went through the ceremonies
which were necessary for turning him into a good Mahometan.  But
what amused me most in his history was this, that very soon after
having embraced Islam he was obliged in practice to become curious
and discriminating in his new faith, to make war upon Mahometan
dissenters, and follow the orthodox standard of the Prophet in
fierce campaigns against the Wahabees, who are the Unitarians of
the Mussulman world.  The Wahabees were crushed, and Osman
returning home in triumph from his holy wars, began to flourish in
the world.  He acquired property, and became effendi, or gentleman.
At the time of my visit to Cairo he seemed to be much respected by
his brother Mahometans, and gave pledge of his sincere alienation
from Christianity by keeping a couple of wives.  He affected the
same sort of reserve in mentioning them as is generally shown by
Orientals.  He invited me, indeed, to see his harem, but he made
both his wives bundle out before I was admitted.  He felt, as it
seemed to me, that neither of them would bear criticism, and I
think that this idea, rather than any motive of sincere jealousy,
induced him to keep them out of sight.  The rooms of the harem
reminded me of an English nursery rather than of a Mahometan
paradise.  One is apt to judge of a woman before one sees her by
the air of elegance or coarseness with which she surrounds her
home; I judged Osman's wives by this test, and condemned them both.
But the strangest feature in Osman's character was his
inextinguishable nationality.  In vain they had brought him over
the seas in early boyhood; in vain had he suffered captivity,
conversion, circumcision; in vain they had passed him through fire
in their Arabian campaigns, they could not cut away or burn out
poor Osman's inborn love of all that was Scotch; in vain men called
him Effendi; in vain he swept along in eastern robes; in vain the
rival wives adorned his harem:  the joy of his heart still plainly
lay in this, that he had three shelves of books, and that the books
were thoroughbred Scotch--the Edinburgh this, the Edinburgh that,
and above all, I recollect, he prided himself upon the "Edinburgh
Cabinet Library."

The fear of the plague is its forerunner.  It is likely enough that
at the time of my seeing poor Osman the deadly taint was beginning
to creep through his veins, but it was not till after I had left
Cairo that he was visibly stricken.  He died.

As soon as I had seen all that I wanted to see in Cairo and in the
neighbourhood I wished to make my escape from a city that lay under
the terrible curse of the plague, but Mysseri fell ill, in
consequence, I believe, of the hardships which he had been
suffering in my service.  After a while he recovered sufficiently
to undertake a journey, but then there was some difficulty in
procuring beasts of burthen, and it was not till the nineteenth day
of my sojourn that I quitted the city.

During all this time the power of the plague was rapidly
increasing.  When I first arrived, it was said that the daily
number of "accidents" by plague, out of a population of about two
hundred thousand, did not exceed four or five hundred, but before I
went away the deaths were reckoned at twelve hundred a day.  I had
no means of knowing whether the numbers (given out, as I believe
they were, by officials) were at all correct, but I could not help
knowing that from day to day the number of the dead was increasing.
My quarters were in a street which was one of the chief
thoroughfares of the city.  The funerals in Cairo take place
between daybreak and noon, and as I was generally in my rooms
during this part of the day, I could form some opinion as to the
briskness of the plague.  I don't mean this for a sly insinuation
that I got up every morning with the sun.  It was not so; but the
funerals of most people in decent circumstances at Cairo are
attended by singers and howlers, and the performances of these
people woke me in the early morning, and prevented me from
remaining in ignorance of what was going on in the street below.

These funerals were very simply conducted.  The bier was a shallow
wooden tray, carried upon a light and weak wooden frame.  The tray
had, in general, no lid, but the body was more or less hidden from
view by a shawl or scarf.  The whole was borne upon the shoulders
of men, who contrived to cut along with their burthen at a great
pace.  Two or three singers generally preceded the bier; the
howlers (who are paid for their vocal labours) followed after, and
last of all came such of the dead man's friends and relations as
could keep up with such a rapid procession; these, especially the
women, would get terribly blown, and would straggle back into the
rear; many were fairly "beaten off."  I never observed any
appearance of mourning in the mourners:  the pace was too severe
for any solemn affectation of grief.

When first I arrived at Cairo the funerals that daily passed under
my windows were many, but still there were frequent and long
intervals without a single howl.  Every day, however (except one,
when I fancied that I observed a diminution of funerals), these
intervals became less frequent and shorter, and at last, the
passing of the howlers from morn till noon was almost incessant.  I
believe that about one-half of the whole people was carried off by
this visitation.  The Orientals, however, have more quiet fortitude
than Europeans under afflictions of this sort, and they never allow
the plague to interfere with their religious usages.  I rode one
day round the great burial-ground.  The tombs are strewed over a
great expanse, among the vast mountains of rubbish (the
accumulations of many centuries) which surround the city.  The
ground, unlike the Turkish "cities of the dead," which are made so
beautiful by their dark cypresses, has nothing to sweeten
melancholy, nothing to mitigate the odiousness of death.
Carnivorous beasts and birds possess the place by night, and now in
the fair morning it was all alive with fresh comers--alive with
dead.  Yet at this very time, when the plague was raging so
furiously, and on this very ground, which resounded so mournfully
with the howls of arriving funerals, preparations were going on for
the religious festival called the Kourban Bairam.  Tents were
pitched, and SWINGS HUNG FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF CHILDREN--a ghastly
holiday; but the Mahometans take a pride, and a just pride, in
following their ancient customs undisturbed by the shadow of death.

I did not hear, whilst I was at Cairo, that any prayer for a
remission of the plague had been offered up in the mosques.  I
believe that however frightful the ravages of the disease may be,
the Mahometans refrain from approaching Heaven with their
complaints until the plague has endured for a long space, and then
at last they pray God, not that the plague may cease, but that it
may go to another city!

A good Mussulman seems to take pride in repudiating the European
notion that the will of God can be eluded by eluding the touch of a
sleeve.  When I went to see the pyramids of Sakkara I was the guest
of a noble old fellow, an Osmanlee, whose soft rolling language it
was a luxury to hear after suffering, as I had suffered of late,
from the shrieking tongue of the Arabs.  This man was aware of the
European ideas about contagion, and his first care therefore was to
assure me that not a single instance of plague had occurred in his
village.  He then inquired as to the progress of the plague at
Cairo.  I had but a bad account to give.  Up to this time my host
had carefully refrained from touching me out of respect to the
European theory of contagion, but as soon as it was made plain that
he, and not I, would be the person endangered by contact, he gently
laid his hand upon my arm, in order to make me feel sure that the
circumstance of my coming from an infected city did not occasion
him the least uneasiness.  In that touch there was true
hospitality.

Very different is the faith and the practice of the Europeans, or
rather, I mean of the Europeans settled in the East, and commonly
called Levantines.  When I came to the end of my journey over the
Desert I had been so long alone, that the prospect of speaking to
somebody at Cairo seemed almost a new excitement.  I felt a sort of
consciousness that I had a little of the wild beast about me, but I
was quite in the humour to be charmingly tame, and to be quite
engaging in my manners, if I should have an opportunity of holding
communion with any of the human race whilst at Cairo.  I knew no
one in the place, and had no letters of introduction, but I carried
letters of credit, and it often happens in places remote from
England that those "advices" operate as a sort of introduction, and
obtain for the bearer (if disposed to receive them) such ordinary
civilities as it may be in the power of the banker to offer.

Very soon after my arrival I went to the house of the Levantine to
whom my credentials were addressed.  At his door several persons
(all Arabs) were hanging about and keeping guard.  It was not till
after some delay, and the passing of some communications with those
in the interior of the citadel, that I was admitted.  At length,
however, I was conducted through the court, and up a flight of
stairs, and finally into the apartment where business was
transacted.  The room was divided by an excellent, substantial
fence of iron bars, and behind this grille the banker had his
station.  The truth was, that from fear of the plague he had
adopted the course usually taken by European residents, and had
shut himself up "in strict quarantine"--that is to say, that he
had, as he hoped, cut himself off from all communication with
infecting substances.  The Europeans long resident in the East,
without any, or with scarcely any, exception are firmly convinced
that the plague is propagated by contact, and by contact only; that
if they can but avoid the touch of an infecting substance they are
safe, and that if they cannot, they die.  This belief induces them
to adopt the contrivance of putting themselves in that state of
siege which they call "quarantine."  It is a part of their faith
that metals, and hempen rope, and also, I fancy, one or two other
substances, will not carry the infection; and they likewise believe
that the germ of pestilence, which lies in an infected substance,
may be destroyed by submersion in water, or by the action of smoke.
They therefore guard the doors of their houses with the utmost care
against intrusion, and condemn themselves, with all the members of
their family, including any European servants, to a strict
imprisonment within the walls of their dwelling.  Their native
attendants are not allowed to enter at all, but they make the
necessary purchases of provisions, which are hauled up through one
of the windows by means of a rope, and are then soaked in water.

I knew nothing of these mysteries, and was not therefore prepared
for the sort of reception which I met with.  I advanced to the iron
fence, and putting my letter between the bars, politely proffered
it to Mr. Banker.  Mr. Banker received me with a sad and dejected
look, and not "with open arms," or with any arms at all, but with--
a pair of tongs!  I placed my letter between the iron fingers,
which picked it up as if it were a viper, and conveyed it away to
be scorched and purified by fire and smoke.  I was disgusted at
this reception, and at the idea that anything of mine could carry
infection to the poor wretch who stood on the other side of the
grille, pale and trembling, and already meet for death.  I looked
with something of the Mahometan's feeling upon these little
contrivances for eluding fate; and in this instance, at least, they
were vain.  A few more days, and the poor money-changer, who had
striven to guard the days of his life (as though they were coins)
with bolts and bars of iron--he was seized by the plague, and he
died.

To people entertaining such opinions as these respecting the fatal
effect of contact, the narrow and crowded streets of Cairo were
terrible as the easy slope that leads to Avernus.  The roaring
ocean and the beetling crags owe something of their sublimity to
this--that if they be tempted, they can take the warm life of a
man.  To the contagionist, filled as he is with the dread of final
causes, having no faith in destiny nor in the fixed will of God,
and with none of the devil-may-care indifference which might stand
him instead of creeds--to such one, every rag that shivers in the
breeze of a plague-stricken city has this sort of sublimity.  If by
any terrible ordinance he be forced to venture forth, he sees death
dangling from every sleeve, and as he creeps forward, he poises his
shuddering limbs between the imminent jacket that is stabbing at
his right elbow and the murderous pelisse that threatens to mow him
clean down as it sweeps along on his left.  But most of all, he
dreads that which most of all he should love--the touch of a
woman's dress; for mothers and wives, hurrying forth on kindly
errands from the bedsides of the dying, go slouching along through
the streets more wilfully and less courteously than the men.  For a
while it may be that the caution of the poor Levantine may enable
him to avoid contact, but sooner or later perhaps the dreaded
chance arrives; that bundle of linen, with the dark tearful eyes at
the top of it, that labours along with the voluptuous clumsiness of
Grisi--she has touched the poor Levantine with the hem of her
sleeve!  From that dread moment his peace is gone; his mind, for
ever hanging upon the fatal touch, invites the blow which he fears.
He watches for the symptoms of plague so carefully, that sooner or
later they come in truth.  The parched mouth is a sign--his mouth
is parched; the throbbing brain--his brain DOES throb; the rapid
pulse--he touches his own wrist (for he dares not ask counsel of
any man lest he be deserted), he touches his wrist, and feels how
his frighted blood goes galloping out of his heart; there is
nothing but the fatal swelling that is wanting to make his sad
conviction complete; immediately he has an odd feel under the arm--
no pain, but a little straining of the skin; he would to God it
were his fancy that were strong enough to give him that sensation.
This is the worst of all; it now seems to him that he could be
happy and contented with his parched mouth and his throbbing brain
and his rapid pulse, if only he could know that there were no
swelling under the left arm; but dare he try?--In a moment of
calmness and deliberation he dares not, but when for a while he has
writhed under the torture of suspense, a sudden strength of will
drives him to seek and know his fate.  He touches the gland, and
finds the skin sane and sound, but under the cuticle there lies a
small lump like a pistol-bullet, that moves as he pushes it.  Oh!
but is this for all certainty, is this the sentence of death?  Feel
the gland of the other arm; there is not the same lump exactly, yet
something a little like it:  have not some people glands naturally
enlarged?--would to Heaven he were one!  So he does for himself the
work of the plague, and when the Angel of Death, thus courted, does
indeed and in truth come, he has only to finish that which has been
so well begun; he passes his fiery hand over the brain of the
victim, and lets him rave for a season, but all chance-wise, of
people and things once dear, or of people and things indifferent.
Once more the poor fellow is back at his home in fair Provence, and
sees the sun-dial that stood in his childhood's garden; sees part
of his mother, and the long-since-forgotten face of that little
dead sister (he sees her, he says, on a Sunday morning, for all the
church bells are ringing); he looks up and down through the
universe, and owns it well piled with bales upon bales of cotton,
and cotton eternal--so much so that he feels, he knows, he swears
he could make that winning hazard, if the billiard table would not
slant upwards, and if the cue were a cue worth playing with; but it
is not--it's a cue that won't move--his own arm won't move--in
short, there's the devil to pay in the brain of the poor Levantine,
and perhaps the next night but one he becomes the "life and the
soul" of some squalling jackal family who fish him out by the foot
from his shallow and sandy grave.

Better fate was mine.  By some happy perverseness (occasioned
perhaps by my disgust at the notion of being received with a pair
of tongs) I took it into my pleasant head that all the European
notions about contagion were thoroughly unfounded; that the plague
might be providential or "epidemic" (as they phrase it), but was
not contagious; and that I could not be killed by the touch of a
woman's sleeve, nor yet by her blessed breath.  I therefore
determined that the plague should not alter my habits and
amusements in any one respect.  Though I came to this resolve from
impulse, I think that I took the course which was in effect the
most prudent, for the cheerfulness of spirits which I was thus
enabled to retain discouraged the yellow-winged angel, and
prevented him from taking a shot at me.  I, however, so far
respected the opinion of the Europeans, that I avoided touching
when I could do so without privation or inconvenience.  This
endeavour furnished me with a sort of amusement as I passed through
the streets.  The usual mode of moving from place to place in the
city of Cairo is upon donkeys, of which great numbers are always in
readiness, with donkey-boys attached.  I had two who constantly
(until one of them died of the plague) waited at my door upon the
chance of being wanted.  I found this way of moving about
exceedingly pleasant, and never attempted any other.  I had only to
mount my beast, and tell my donkey-boy the point for which I was
bound, and instantly I began to glide on at a capital pace.  The
streets of Cairo are not paved in any way, but strewed with a dry
sandy soil, so deadening to sound, that the footfall of my donkey
could scarcely be heard.  There is no trottoir, and as you ride
through the streets you mingle with the people on foot.  Those who
are in your way, upon being warned by the shouts of the donkey-boy,
move very slightly aside, so as to leave you a narrow lane, through
which you pass at a gallop.  In this way you glide on delightfully
in the very midst of crowds, without being inconvenienced or
stopped for a moment.  It seems to you that it is not the donkey
but the donkey-boy who wafts you on with his shouts through
pleasant groups, and air that feels thick with the fragrance of
burial spice.  "Eh!  Sheik, Eh!  Bint,--reggalek,--"shumalek, &c.
&c.--O old man, O virgin, get out of the way on the right--O
virgin, O old man, get out of the way on the left--this Englishman
comes, he comes, he comes!"  The narrow alley which these shouts
cleared for my passage made it possible, though difficult, to go on
for a long way without touching a single person, and my endeavours
to avoid such contact were a sort of game for me in my loneliness,
which was not without interest.  If I got through a street without
being touched, I won; if I was touched, I lost--lost a deuce of
stake, according to the theory of the Europeans; but that I deemed
to be all nonsense--I only lost that game, and would certainly win
the next.

There is not much in the way of public buildings to admire at
Cairo, but I saw one handsome mosque, to which an instructive
history is attached.  A Hindustanee merchant having amassed an
immense fortune settled in Cairo, and soon found that his riches in
the then state of the political world gave him vast power in the
city--power, however, the exercise of which was much restrained by
the counteracting influence of other wealthy men.  With a view to
extinguish every attempt at rivalry the Hindustanee merchant built
this magnificent mosque at his own expense.  When the work was
complete, he invited all the leading men of the city to join him in
prayer within the walls of the newly built temple, and he then
caused to be massacred all those who were sufficiently influential
to cause him any jealousy or uneasiness--in short, all "the
respectable men" of the place; after this he possessed undisputed
power in the city and was greatly revered--he is revered to this
day.  It seemed to me that there was a touching simplicity in the
mode which this man so successfully adopted for gaining the
confidence and goodwill of his fellow-citizens.  There seems to be
some improbability in the story (though not nearly so gross as it
might appear to an European ignorant of the East, for witness
Mehemet Ali's destruction of the Mamelukes, a closely similar act,
and attended with the like brilliant success {34}), but even if the
story be false as a mere fact, it is perfectly true as an
illustration--it is a true exposition of the means by which the
respect and affection of Orientals may be conciliated.

I ascended one day to the citadel, which commands a superb view of
the town.  The fanciful and elaborate gilt-work of the many
minarets gives a light and florid grace to the city as seen from
this height, but before you can look for many seconds at such
things your eyes are drawn westward--drawn westward and over the
Nile, till they rest upon the massive enormities of the Ghizeh
Pyramids.

I saw within the fortress many yoke of men all haggard and
woebegone, and a kennel of very fine lions well fed and
flourishing:  I say YOKE of men, for the poor fellows were working
together in bonds; I say a KENNEL of lions, for the beasts were not
enclosed in cages, but simply chained up like dogs.

I went round the bazaars:  it seemed to me that pipes and arms were
cheaper here than at Constantinople, and I should advise you
therefore if you go to both places to prefer the market of Cairo.
I had previously bought several of such things at Constantinople,
and did not choose to encumber myself, or to speak more honestly, I
did not choose to disencumber my purse by making any more
purchases.  In the open slave-market I saw about fifty girls
exposed for sale, but all of them black, or "invisible" brown.  A
slave agent took me to some rooms in the upper storey of the
building, and also into several obscure houses in the
neighbourhood, with a view to show me some white women.  The owners
raised various objections to the display of their ware, and well
they might, for I had not the least notion of purchasing; some
refused on account of the illegality of the proceeding, {35} and
others declared that all transactions of this sort were completely
out of the question as long as the plague was raging.  I only
succeeded in seeing one white slave who was for sale but on this
one the owner affected to set an immense value, and raised my
expectations to a high pitch by saying that the girl was
Circassian, and was "fair as the full moon."  After a good deal of
delay I was at last led into a room, at the farther end of which
was that mass of white linen which indicates an Eastern woman.  She
was bid to uncover her face, and I presently saw that, though very
far from being good looking, according to my notion of beauty, she
had not been inaptly described by the man who compared her to the
full moon, for her large face was perfectly round and perfectly
white.  Though very young, she was nevertheless extremely fat.  She
gave me the idea of having been got up for sale, of having been
fattened and whitened by medicines or by some peculiar diet.  I was
firmly determined not to see any more of her than the face.  She
was perhaps disgusted at this my virtuous resolve, as well as with
my personal appearance; perhaps she saw my distaste and
disappointment; perhaps she wished to gain favour with her owner by
showing her attachment to his faith:  at all events, she holloaed
out very lustily and very decidedly that "she would not be bought
by the infidel."

Whilst I remained at Cairo I thought it worth while to see
something of the magicians, because I considered that these men
were in some sort the descendants of those who contended so stoutly
against the superior power of Aaron.  I therefore sent for an old
man who was held to be the chief of the magicians, and desired him
to show me the wonders of his art.  The old man looked and dressed
his character exceedingly well; the vast turban, the flowing beard,
and the ample robes were all that one could wish in the way of
appearance.  The first experiment (a very stale one) which he
attempted to perform for me was that of showing the forms and faces
of my absent friends, not to me, but to a boy brought in from the
streets for the purpose, and said to be chosen at random.  A
mangale (pan of burning charcoal) was brought into my room, and the
magician bending over it, sprinkled upon the fire some substances
which must have consisted partly of spices or sweetly burning
woods, for immediately a fragrant smoke arose that curled around
the bending form of the wizard, the while that he pronounced his
first incantations.  When these were over the boy was made to sit
down, and a common green shade was bound over his brow; then the
wizard took ink, and still continuing his incantations, wrote
certain mysterious figures upon the boy's palm, and directed him to
rivet his attention to these marks without looking aside for an
instant.  Again the incantations proceeded, and after a while the
boy, being seemingly a little agitated, was asked whether he saw
anything on the palm of his hand.  He declared that he saw a kind
of military procession, with flags and banners, which he described
rather minutely.  I was then called upon to name the absent person
whose form was to be made visible.  I named Keate.  You were not at
Eton, and I must tell you, therefore, what manner of man it was
that I named, though I think you must have some idea of him
already, for wherever from utmost Canada to Bundelcund--wherever
there was the whitewashed wall of an officer's room, or of any
other apartment in which English gentlemen are forced to kick their
heels, there likely enough (in the days of his reign) the head of
Keate would be seen scratched or drawn with those various degrees
of skill which one observes in the representations of saints.
Anybody without the least notion of drawing could still draw a
speaking, nay scolding, likeness of Keate.  If you had no pencil,
you could draw him well enough with a poker, or the leg of a chair,
or the smoke of a candle.  He was little more (if more at all) than
five feet in height, and was not very great in girth, but in this
space was concentrated the pluck of ten battalions.  He had a
really noble voice, which he could modulate with great skill, but
he had also the power of quacking like an angry duck, and he almost
always adopted this mode of communication in order to inspire
respect.  He was a capital scholar, but his ingenuous learning had
NOT "softened his manners" and HAD "permitted them to be fierce"--
tremendously fierce; he had the most complete command over his
temper--I mean over his GOOD temper, which he scarcely ever allowed
to appear:  you could not put him out of humour--that is, out of
the ILL-humour which he thought to be fitting for a head-master.
His red shaggy eyebrows were so prominent, that he habitually used
them as arms and hands for the purpose of pointing out any object
towards which he wished to direct attention; the rest of his
features were equally striking in their way, and were all and all
his own; he wore a fancy dress partly resembling the costume of
Napoleon, and partly that of a widow-woman.  I could not by any
possibility have named anybody more decidedly differing in
appearance from the rest of the human race.

"Whom do you name?"--"I name John Keate."--"Now, what do you see?"
said the wizard to the boy.--"I see," answered the boy, "I see a
fair girl with golden hair, blue eyes, pallid face, rosy lips."
THERE was a shot!  I shouted out my laughter to the horror of the
wizard, who perceiving the grossness of his failure, declared that
the boy must have known sin (for none but the innocent can see
truth), and accordingly kicked him downstairs.

One or two other boys were tried, but none could "see truth"; they
all made sadly "bad shots."

Notwithstanding the failure of these experiments, I wished to see
what sort of mummery my magician would practise if I called upon
him to show me some performances of a higher order than those which
had been attempted.  I therefore entered into a treaty with him, in
virtue of which he was to descend with me into the tombs near the
Pyramids, and there evoke the devil.  The negotiation lasted some
time, for Dthemetri, as in duty bound, tried to beat down the
wizard as much as he could, and the wizard, on his part, manfully
stuck up for his price, declaring that to raise the devil was
really no joke, and insinuating that to do so was an awesome crime.
I let Dthemetri have his way in the negotiation, but I felt in
reality very indifferent about the sum to be paid, and for this
reason, namely, that the payment (except a very small present which
I might make or not, as I chose) was to be CONTINGENT ON SUCCESS.
At length the bargain was made, and it was arranged that after a
few days, to be allowed for preparation, the wizard should raise
the devil for two pounds ten, play or pay--no devil, no piastres.

The wizard failed to keep his appointment.  I sent to know why the
deuce he had not come to raise the devil.  The truth was, that my
Mahomet had gone to the mountain.  The plague had seized him, and
he died.

Although the plague had now spread terrible havoc around me, I did
not see very plainly any corresponding change in the looks of the
streets until the seventh day after my arrival.  I then first
observed that the city was SILENCED.  There were no outward signs
of despair nor of violent terror, but many of the voices that had
swelled the busy hum of men were already hushed in death, and the
survivors, so used to scream and screech in their earnestness
whenever they bought or sold, now showed an unwonted indifference
about the affairs of this world:  it was less worth while for men
to haggle and haggle, and crack the sky with noisy bargains, when
the great commander was there, who could "pay all their debts with
the roll of his drum."

At this time I was informed that of twenty-five thousand people at
Alexandria, twelve thousand had died already; the destroyer had
come rather later to Cairo, but there was nothing of weariness in
his strides.  The deaths came faster than ever they befell in the
plague of London; but the calmness of Orientals under such
visitations, and the habit of using biers for interment, instead of
burying coffins along with the bodies, rendered it practicable to
dispose of the dead in the usual way, without shocking the people
by any unaccustomed spectacle of horror.  There was no tumbling of
bodies into carts, as in the plague of Florence and the plague of
London.  Every man, according to his station, was properly buried,
and that in the usual way, except that he went to his grave in a
more hurried pace than might have been adopted under ordinary
circumstances.

The funerals which poured through the streets were not the only
public evidence of deaths.  In Cairo this custom prevails:  At the
instant of a man's death (if his property is sufficient to justify
the expense) professional howlers are employed.  I believe that
these persons are brought near to the dying man when his end
appears to be approaching, and the moment that life is gone they
lift up their voices and send forth a loud wail from the chamber of
death.  Thus I knew when my near neighbours died; sometimes the
howls were near, sometimes more distant.  Once I was awakened in
the night by the wail of death in the next house, and another time
by a like howl from the house opposite; and there were two or three
minutes, I recollect, during which the howl seemed to be actually
running along the street.

I happened to be rather teased at this time by a sore throat, and I
thought it would be well to get it cured if I could before I again
started on my travels.  I therefore inquired for a Frank doctor,
and was informed that the only one then at Cairo was a young
Bolognese refugee, who was so poor that he had not been able to
take flight, as the other medical men had done.  At such a time as
this it was out of the question to send for an European physician;
a person thus summoned would be sure to suppose that the patient
was ill of the plague, and would decline to come.  I therefore rode
to the young doctor's residence.  After experiencing some little
difficulty in finding where to look for him, I ascended a flight or
two of stairs and knocked at his door.  No one came immediately,
but after some little delay the medico himself opened the door, and
admitted me.  I of course made him understand that I had come to
consult him, but before entering upon my throat grievance I
accepted a chair, and exchanged a sentence or two of commonplace
conversation.  Now the natural commonplace of the city at this
season was of a gloomy sort, "Come va la peste?" (how goes the
plague?) and this was precisely the question I put.  A deep sigh,
and the words, "Sette cento per giorno, signor" (seven hundred a
day), pronounced in a tone of the deepest sadness and dejection,
were the answer I received.  The day was not oppressively hot, yet
I saw that the doctor was perspiring profusely, and even the
outside surface of the thick shawl dressing-gown, in which he had
wrapped himself, appeared to be moist.  He was a handsome,
pleasant-looking young fellow, but the deep melancholy of his tone
did not tempt me to prolong the conversation, and without further
delay I requested that my throat might be looked at.  The medico
held my chin in the usual way, and examined my throat.  He then
wrote me a prescription, and almost immediately afterwards I bade
him farewell, but as he conducted me towards the door I observed an
expression of strange and unhappy watchfulness in his rolling eyes.
It was not the next day, but the next day but one, if I rightly
remember, that I sent to request another interview with my doctor.
In due time Dthemetri, who was my messenger, returned, looking
sadly aghast--he had "MET the medico," for so he phrased it,
"coming out from his house--in a bier!"

It was of course plain that when the poor Bolognese was looking at
my throat, and almost mingling his breath with mine, he was
stricken of the plague.  I suppose that the violent sweat in which
I found him had been produced by some medicine, which he must have
taken in the hope of curing himself.  The peculiar rolling of the
eyes which I had remarked is, I believe, to experienced observers,
a pretty sure test of the plague.  A Russian acquaintance, of mine,
speaking from the information of men who had made the Turkish
campaigns of 1828 and 1829, told me that by this sign the officers
of Sabalkansky's force were able to make out the plague-stricken
soldiers with a good deal of certainty.

It so happened that most of the people with whom I had anything to
do during my stay at Cairo were seized with plague, and all these
died.  Since I had been for a long time en route before I reached
Egypt, and was about to start again for another long journey over
the Desert, there were of course many little matters touching my
wardrobe and my travelling equipments which required to be attended
to whilst I remained in the city.  It happened so many times that
Dthemetri's orders in respect to these matters were frustrated by
the deaths of the tradespeople and others whom he employed, that at
last I became quite accustomed to the peculiar manner which he
assumed when he prepared to announce a new death to me.  The poor
fellow naturally supposed that I should feel some uneasiness at
hearing of the "accidents" which happened to persons employed by
me, and he therefore communicated their deaths as though they were
the deaths of friends.  He would cast down his eyes and look like a
man abashed, and then gently, and with a mournful gesture, allow
the words, "Morto, signor," to come through his lips.  I don't know
how many of such instances occurred, but they were several, and
besides these (as I told you before), my banker, my doctor, my
landlord, and my magician all died of the plague.  A lad who acted
as a helper in the house which I occupied lost a brother and a
sister within a few hours.  Out of my two established donkey-boys,
one died.  I did not hear of any instance in which a plague-
stricken patient had recovered.

Going out one morning I met unexpectedly the scorching breath of
the kamsin wind, and fearing that I should faint under the horrible
sensations which it caused, I returned to my rooms.  Reflecting,
however, that I might have to encounter this wind in the Desert,
where there would be no possibility of avoiding it, I thought it
would be better to brave it once more in the city, and to try
whether I could really bear it or not.  I therefore mounted my ass
and rode to old Cairo, and along the gardens by the banks of the
Nile.  The wind was hot to the touch, as though it came from a
furnace.  It blew strongly, but yet with such perfect steadiness,
that the trees bending under its force remained fixed in the same
curves without perceptibly waving.  The whole sky was obscured by a
veil of yellowish grey, that shut out the face of the sun.  The
streets were utterly silent, being indeed almost entirely deserted;
and not without cause, for the scorching blast, whilst it fevers
the blood, closes up the pores of the skin, and is terribly
distressing, therefore, to every animal that encounters it.  I
returned to my rooms dreadfully ill.  My head ached with a burning
pain, and my pulse bounded quick and fitfully, but perhaps (as in
the instance of the poor Levantine, whose death I was mentioning),
the fear and excitement which I felt in trying my own wrist may
have made my blood flutter the faster.

It is a thoroughly well believed theory, that during the
continuance of the plague you can't be ill of any other febrile
malady--an unpleasant privilege that! for ill I was, and ill of
fever, and I anxiously wished that the ailment might turn out to be
anything rather than plague.  I had some right to surmise that my
illness may have been merely the effect of the hot wind; and this
notion was encouraged by the elasticity of my spirits, and by a
strong forefeeling that much of my destined life in this world was
yet to come, and yet to be fulfilled.  That was my instinctive
belief, but when I carefully weighed the probabilities on the one
side and on the other, I could not help seeing that the strength of
argument was all against me.  There was a strong antecedent
likelihood in FAVOUR of my being struck by the same blow as the
rest of the people who had been dying around me.  Besides, it
occurred to me that, after all, the universal opinion of the
Europeans upon a medical question, such as that of contagion, might
probably be correct, and IF IT WERE, I was so thoroughly
"compromised," and especially by the touch and breath of the dying
medico, that I had no right to expect any other fate than that
which now seemed to have overtaken me.  Balancing as well as I
could all the considerations which hope and fear suggested, I
slowly and reluctantly came to the conclusion that, according to
all merely reasonable probability, the plague had come upon me.

You would suppose that this conviction would have induced me to
write a few farewell lines to those who were dearest, and that
having done that, I should have turned my thoughts towards the
world to come.  Such, however, was not the case.  I believe that
the prospect of death often brings with it strong anxieties about
matters of comparatively trivial import, and certainly with me the
whole energy of the mind was directed towards the one petty object
of concealing my illness until the latest possible moment--until
the delirious stage.  I did not believe that either Mysseri or
Dthemetri, who had served me so faithfully in all trials, would
have deserted me (as most Europeans are wont to do) when they knew
that I was stricken by plague, but I shrank from the idea of
putting them to this test, and I dreaded the consternation which
the knowledge of my illness would be sure to occasion.

I was very ill indeed at the moment when my dinner was served, and
my soul sickened at the sight of the food; but I had luckily the
habit of dispensing with the attendance of servants during my meal,
and as soon as I was left alone I made a melancholy calculation of
the quantity of food which I should have eaten if I had been in my
usual health, and filled my plates accordingly, and gave myself
salt, and so on, as though I were going to dine.  I then
transferred the viands to a piece of the omnipresent Times
newspaper, and hid them away in a cupboard, for it was not yet
night, and I dared not throw the food into the street until
darkness came.  I did not at all relish this process of fictitious
dining, but at length the cloth was removed, and I gladly reclined
on my divan (I would not lie down) with the "Arabian Nights" in my
hand.

I had a feeling that tea would be a capital thing for me, but I
would not order it until the usual hour.  When at last the time
came, I drank deep draughts from the fragrant cup.  The effect was
almost instantaneous.  A plenteous sweat burst through my skin, and
watered my clothes through and through.  I kept myself thickly
covered.  The hot tormenting weight which had been loading my brain
was slowly heaved away.  The fever was extinguished.  I felt a new
buoyancy of spirits, and an unusual activity of mind.  I went into
my bed under a load of thick covering, and when the morning came,
and I asked myself how I was, I found that I was thoroughly well.

I was very anxious to procure, if possible, some medical advice for
Mysseri, whose illness prevented my departure.  Every one of the
European practising doctors, of whom there had been many, had
either died or fled.  It was said, however, that there was an
Englishman in the medical service of the Pasha who quietly remained
at his post, but that he never engaged in private practice.  I
determined to try if I could obtain assistance in this quarter.  I
did not venture at first, and at such a time as this, to ask him to
visit a servant who was prostrate on the bed of sickness, but
thinking that I might thus gain an opportunity of persuading him to
attend Mysseri, I wrote a note mentioning my own affair of the sore
throat, and asking for the benefit of his medical advice.  He
instantly followed back my messenger, and was at once shown up into
my room.  I entreated him to stand off, telling him fairly how
deeply I was "compromised," and especially by my contact with a
person actually ill and since dead of plague.  The generous fellow,
with a good-humoured laugh at the terrors of the contagionists,
marched straight up to me, and forcibly seized my hand, and shook
it with manly violence.  I felt grateful indeed, and swelled with
fresh pride of race because that my countryman could carry himself
so nobly.  He soon cured Mysseri as well as me, and all this he did
from no other motives than the pleasure of doing a kindness and the
delight of braving a danger.

At length the great difficulty {36} which I had had in procuring
beasts for my departure was overcome, and now, too, I was to have
the new excitement of travelling on dromedaries.  With two of these
beasts and three camels I gladly wound my way from out of the pest-
stricken city.  As I passed through the streets I observed a
fanatical-looking elder, who stretched forth his arms, and lifted
up his voice in a speech which seemed to have some reference to me.
Requiring an interpretation, I found that the man had said, "The
Pasha seeks camels, and he finds them not; the Englishman says,
'Let camels be brought,' and behold, there they are!"

I no sooner breathed the free, wholesome air of the Desert than I
felt that a great burden which I had been scarcely conscious of
bearing was lifted away from my mind.  For nearly three weeks I had
lived under peril of death; the peril ceased, and not till then did
I know how much alarm and anxiety I had really been suffering.



CHAPTER XIX--THE PYRAMIDS



I went to see and to explore the Pyramids.

Familiar to one from the days of early childhood are the forms of
the Egyptian Pyramids, and now, as I approached them from the banks
of the Nile, I had no print, no picture before me, and yet the old
shapes were there; there was no change; they were just as I had
always known them.  I straightened myself in my stirrups, and
strived to persuade my understanding that this was real Egypt, and
that those angles which stood up between me and the West were of
harder stuff, and more ancient than the paper pyramids of the green
portfolio.  Yet it was not till I came to the base of the great
Pyramid that reality began to weigh upon my mind.  Strange to say,
the bigness of the distinct blocks of stones was the first sign by
which I attained to feel the immensity of the whole pile.  When I
came, and trod, and touched with my hands, and climbed, in order
that by climbing I might come to the top of one single stone, then,
and almost suddenly, a cold sense and understanding of the
Pyramid's enormity came down, overcasting my brain.

Now try to endure this homely, sick-nursish illustration of the
effect produced upon one's mind by the mere vastness of the great
Pyramid.  When I was very young (between the ages, I believe, of
three and five years old), being then of delicate health, I was
often in time of night the victim of a strange kind of mental
oppression.  I lay in my bed perfectly conscious, and with open
eyes, but without power to speak or to move, and all the while my
brain was oppressed to distraction by the presence of a single and
abstract idea, the idea of solid immensity.  It seemed to me in my
agonies that the horror of this visitation arose from its coming
upon me without form or shape, that the close presence of the
direst monster ever bred in hell would have been a thousand times
more tolerable than that simple idea of solid size.  My aching mind
was fixed and riveted down upon the mere quality of vastness,
vastness, vastness, and was not permitted to invest with it any
particular object.  If I could have done so, the torment would have
ceased.  When at last I was roused from this state of suffering, I
could not of course in those days (knowing no verbal metaphysics,
and no metaphysics at all, except by the dreadful experience of an
abstract idea)--I could not of course find words to describe the
nature of my sensations, and even now I cannot explain why it is
that the forced contemplation of a mere quality, distinct from
matter, should be so terrible.  Well, now my eyes saw and knew, and
my hands and my feet informed my understanding that there was
nothing at all abstract about the great Pyramid--it was a big
triangle, sufficiently concrete, easy to see, and rough to the
touch; it could not, of course, affect me with the peculiar
sensation which I have been talking of, but yet there was something
akin to that old nightmare agony in the terrible completeness with
which a mere mass of masonry could fill and load my mind.

And Time too; the remoteness of its origin, no less than the
enormity of its proportions, screens an Egyptian Pyramid from the
easy and familiar contact of our modern minds; at its base the
common earth ends, and all above is a world--one not created of
God, not seeming to be made by men's hands, but rather the sheer
giant-work of some old dismal age weighing down this younger
planet.

Fine sayings! but the truth seems to be after all, that the
Pyramids are quite of this world; that they were piled up into the
air for the realisation of some kingly crotchets about immortality,
some priestly longing for burial fees; and that as for the
building, they were built like coral rocks by swarms of insects--by
swarms of poor Egyptians, who were not only the abject tools and
slaves of power, but who also ate onions for the reward of their
immortal labours! {37}  The Pyramids are quite of this world.

I of course ascended to the summit of the great Pyramid, and also
explored its chambers, but these I need not describe.  The first
time that I went to the Pyramids of Ghizeh there were a number of
Arabs hanging about in its neighbourhood, and wanting to receive
presents on various pretences; their Sheik was with them.  There
was also present an ill-looking fellow in soldier's uniform.  This
man on my departure claimed a reward, on the ground that he had
maintained order and decorum amongst the Arabs.  His claim was not
considered valid by my dragoman, and was rejected accordingly.  My
donkey-boys afterwards said they had overhead this fellow propose
to the Sheik to put me to death whilst I was in the interior of the
great Pyramid, and to share with him the booty.  Fancy a struggle
for life in one of those burial chambers, with acres and acres of
solid masonry between one's self and the daylight!  I felt
exceedingly glad that I had not made the rascal a present.

I visited the very ancient Pyramids of Aboukir and Sakkara.  There
are many of these, and of various shapes and sizes, and it struck
me that, taken together, they might be considered as showing the
progress and perfection (such as it is) of pyramidical
architecture.  One of the Pyramids at Sakkara is almost a rival for
the full-grown monster at Ghizeh; others are scarcely more than
vast heaps of brick and stone:  these last suggested to me the idea
that after all the Pyramid is nothing more nor less than a variety
of the sepulchral mound so common in most countries (including, I
believe, Hindustan, from whence the Egyptians are supposed to have
come).  Men accustomed to raise these structures for their dead
kings or conquerors would carry the usage with them in their
migrations, but arriving in Egypt, and seeing the impossibility of
finding earth sufficiently tenacious for a mound, they would
approximate as nearly as might be to their ancient custom by
raising up a round heap of stones--in short, conical pyramids.  Of
these there are several at Sakkara, and the materials of some are
thrown together without any order or regularity.  The transition
from this simple form to that of the square angular pyramid was
easy and natural, and it seemed to me that the gradations through
which the style passed from infancy up to its mature enormity could
plainly be traced at Sakkara.



CHAPTER XX--THE SPHINX



And near the Pyramids more wondrous and more awful than all else in
the land of Egypt, there sits the lonely Sphinx.  Comely the
creature is, but the comeliness is not of this world.  The once
worshipped beast is a deformity and a monster to this generation;
and yet you can see that those lips, so thick and heavy, were
fashioned according to some ancient mould of beauty--some mould of
beauty now forgotten--forgotten because that Greece drew forth
Cytherea from the flashing foam of the Aegean, and in her image
created new forms of beauty, and made it a law among men that the
short and proudly wreathed lip should stand for the sign and the
main condition of loveliness through all generations to come.  Yet
still there lives on the race of those who were beautiful in the
fashion of the elder world, and Christian girls of Coptic blood
will look on you with the sad, serious gaze, and kiss you your
charitable hand with the big pouting lips of the very Sphinx.

Laugh and mock if you will at the worship of stone idols, but mark
ye this, ye breakers of images, that in one regard the stone idol
bears awful semblance of Deity--unchangefulness in the midst of
change; the same seeming will, and intent for ever, and ever
inexorable!  Upon ancient dynasties of Ethiopian and Egyptian
kings; upon Greek, and Roman; upon Arab and Ottoman conquerors;
upon Napoleon dreaming of an Eastern Empire; upon battle and
pestilence; upon the ceaseless misery of the Egyptian race; upon
keen-eyed travellers--Herodotus yesterday, and Warburton to-day:
upon all and more, this unworldly Sphinx has watched, and watched
like a Providence with the same earnest eyes, and the same sad,
tranquil mien.  And we, we shall die, and Islam will wither away,
and the Englishman, leaning far over to hold his loved India, will
plant a firm foot on the banks of the Nile, and sit in the seats of
the Faithful, and still that sleepless rock will lie watching, and
watching the works of the new, busy race with those same sad,
earnest eyes, and the same tranquil mien everlasting.  You dare not
mock at the Sphinx.



CHAPTER XXI--CAIRO TO SUEZ



The "dromedary" of Egypt and Syria is not the two-humped animal
described by that name in books of natural history, but is, in
fact, of the same family as the camel, to which it stands in about
the same relation as a racer to a cart-horse.  The fleetness and
endurance of this creature are extraordinary.  It is not usual to
force him into a gallop, and I fancy from his make that it would be
quite impossible for him to maintain that pace for any length of
time; but the animal is on so large a scale, that the jog-trot at
which he is generally ridden implies a progress of perhaps ten or
twelve miles an hour, and this pace, it is said, he can keep up
incessantly, without food, or water, or rest, for three whole days
and nights.

Of the two dromedaries which I had obtained for this journey, I
mounted one myself, and put Dthemetri on the other.  My plan was to
ride on with Dthemetri to Suez as rapidly as the fleetness of the
beasts would allow, and to let Myserri (who was still weak from the
effects of his late illness) come quietly on with the camels and
baggage.

The trot of the dromedary is a pace terribly disagreeable to the
rider, until he becomes a little accustomed to it; but after the
first half-hour I so far schooled myself to this new exercise, that
I felt capable of keeping it up (though not without aching limbs)
for several hours together.  Now, therefore, I was anxious to dart
forward, and annihilate at once the whole space that divided me
from the Red Sea.  Dthemetri, however, could not get on at all.
Every attempt which he made to trot seemed to threaten the utter
dislocation of his whole frame, and indeed I doubt whether any one
of Dthemetri's age (nearly forty, I think), and unaccustomed to
such exercise, could have borne it at all easily; besides, the
dromedary which fell to his lot was evidently a very bad one; he
every now and then came to a dead stop, and coolly knelt down, as
though suggesting that the rider had better get off at once and
abandon the attempt as one that was utterly hopeless.

When for the third or fourth time I saw Dthemetri thus planted, I
lost my patience, and went on without him.  For about two hours, I
think, I advanced without once looking behind me.  I then paused,
and cast my eyes back to the western horizon.  There was no sign of
Dthemetri, nor of any other living creature.  This I expected, for
I knew that I must have far out-distanced all my followers.  I had
ridden away from my party merely by way of gratifying my
impatience, and with the intention of stopping as soon as I felt
tired, until I was overtaken.  I now observed, however (this I had
not been able to do whilst advancing so rapidly), that the track
which I had been following was seemingly the track of only one or
two camels.  I did not fear that I had diverged very largely from
the true route, but still I could not feel any reasonable certainty
that my party would follow any line of march within sight of me.

I had to consider, therefore, whether I should remain where I was,
upon the chance of seeing my people come up, or whether I would
push on alone, and find my way to Suez.  I had now learned that I
could not rely upon the continued guidance of any track, but I knew
that (if maps were right) the point for which I was bound bore just
due east of Cairo, and I thought that, although I might miss the
line leading most directly to Suez, I could not well fail to find
my way sooner or later to the Red Sea.  The worst of it was that I
had no provision of food or water with me, and already I was
beginning to feel thirst.  I deliberated for a minute, and then
determined that I would abandon all hope of seeing my party again,
in the Desert, and would push forward as rapidly as possible
towards Suez.

It was not, I confess, without a sensation of awe that I swept with
my sight the vacant round of the horizon, and remembered that I was
all alone, and unprovisioned in the midst of the arid waste; but
this very awe gave tone and zest to the exultation with which I
felt myself launched.  Hitherto, in all my wandering, I had been
under the care of other people--sailors, Tatars, guides, and
dragomen had watched over my welfare, but now at last I was here in
this African desert, and I MYSELF, AND NO OTHER, HAD CHARGE OF MY
LIFE.  I liked the office well.  I had the greasiest part of the
day before me, a very fair dromedary, a fur pelisse, and a brace of
pistols, but no bread and no water; for that I must ride--and ride
I did.

For several hours I urged forward my beast at a rapid though steady
pace, but now the pangs of thirst began to torment me.  I did not
relax my pace, however, and I had not suffered long when a moving
object appeared in the distance before me.  The intervening space
was soon traversed, and I found myself approaching a Bedouin Arab
mounted on a camel, attended by another Bedouin on foot.  They
stopped.  I saw that, as usual, there hung from the pack-saddle of
the camel a large skin water-flask, which seemed to be well filled.
I steered my dromedary close up alongside of the mounted Bedouin,
caused my beast to kneel down, then alighted, and keeping the end
of the halter in my hand, went up to the mounted Bedouin without
speaking, took hold of his water-flask, opened it, and drank long
and deep from its leathern lips.  Both of the Bedouins stood fast
in amazement and mute horror; and really, if they had never
happened to see an European before, the apparition was enough to
startle them.  To see for the first time a coat and a waistcoat,
with the semblance of a white human head at the top, and for this
ghastly figure to come swiftly out of the horizon upon a fleet
dromedary, approach them silently and with a demoniacal smile, and
drink a deep draught from their water-flask--this was enough to
make the Bedouins stare a little; they, in fact, stared a great
deal--not as Europeans stare, with a restless and puzzled
expression of countenance, but with features all fixed and rigid,
and with still, glassy eyes.  Before they had time to get
decomposed from their state of petrifaction I had remounted my
dromedary, and was darting away towards the east.

Without pause or remission of pace I continued to press forward,
but after a while I found to my confusion that the slight track
which had hitherto guided me now failed altogether.  I began to
fear that I must have been all along following the course of some
wandering Bedouins, and I felt that if this were the case, my fate
was a little uncertain.

I had no compass with me, but I determined upon the eastern point
of the horizon as accurately as I could by reference to the sun,
and so laid down for myself a way over the pathless sands.

But now my poor dromedary, by whose life and strength I held my
own, began to show signs of distress:  a thick, clammy, and
glutinous kind of foam gathered about her lips, and piteous sobs
burst from her bosom in the tones of human misery.  I doubted for a
moment whether I would give her a little rest, a relaxation of
pace, but I decided that I would not, and continued to push forward
as steadily as before.

The character of the country became changed.  I had ridden away
from the level tracts, and before me now, and on either side, there
were vast hills of sand and calcined rocks, that interrupted my
progress and baffled my doubtful road, but I did my best.  With
rapid steps I swept round the base of the hills, threaded the
winding hollows, and at last, as I rose in my swift course to the
crest of a lofty ridge, Thalatta!  Thalatta! by Jove!  I saw the
sea!

My tongue can tell where to find a clue to many an old pagan creed,
because that (distinctly from all mere admiration of the beauty
belonging to nature's works) I acknowledge a sense of mystical
reverence when first I look, to see some illustrious feature of the
globe--some coast-line of ocean, some mighty river or dreary
mountain range, the ancient barrier of kingdoms.  But the Red Sea!
It might well claim my earnest gaze by force of the great Jewish
migration which connects it with the history of our own religion.
From this very ridge, it is likely enough, the panting Israelites
first saw that shining inlet of the sea.  Ay! ay! but moreover, and
best of all, that beckoning sea assured my eyes, and proved how
well I had marked out the east for my path, and gave me good
promise that sooner or later the time would come for me to rest and
drink.  It was distant, the sea, but I felt my own strength, and I
had HEARD of the strength of dromedaries.  I pushed forward as
eagerly as though I had spoiled the Egyptians and were flying from
Pharaoh's police.

I had not yet been able to discover any symptoms of Suez, but after
a while I descried in the distance a large, blank, isolated
building.  I made towards this, and in time got down to it.  The
building was a fort, and had been built there for the protection of
a well which it contained within its precincts.  A cluster of small
huts adhered to the fort, and in a short time I was receiving the
hospitality of the inhabitants, who were grouped upon the sands
near their hamlet.  To quench the fires of my throat with about a
gallon of muddy water, and to swallow a little of the food placed
before me, was the work of few minutes, and before the astonishment
of my hosts had even begun to subside, I was pursuing my onward
journey.  Suez, I found, was still three hours distant, and the sun
going down in the west warned me that I must find some other guide
to keep me in the right direction.  This guide I found in the most
fickle and uncertain of the elements.  For some hours the wind had
been freshening, and it now blew a violent gale; it blew not
fitfully and in squalls, but with such remarkable steadiness, that
I felt convinced it would blow from the same quarter for several
hours.  When the sun set, therefore, I carefully looked for the
point from which the wind was blowing, and found that it came from
the very west, and was blowing exactly in the direction of my
route.  I had nothing to do therefore but to go straight to
leeward; and this was not difficult, for the gale blew with such
immense force, that if I diverged at all from its line I instantly
felt the pressure of the blast on the side towards which I was
deviating.  Very soon after sunset there came on complete darkness,
but the strong wind guided me well, and sped me, too, on my way.

I had pushed on for about, I think, a couple of hours after
nightfall when I saw the glimmer of a light in the distance, and
this I ventured to hope must be Suez.  Upon approaching it,
however, I found that it was only a solitary fort, and I passed on
without stopping.

On I went, still riding down the wind, when an unlucky accident
occurred, for which, if you like, you can have your laugh against
me.  I have told you already what sort of lodging it is that you
have upon the back of a camel.  You ride the dromedary in the same
fashion; you are perched rather than seated on a bunch of carpets
or quilts upon the summit of the hump.  It happened that my
dromedary veered rather suddenly from her onward course.  Meeting
the movement, I mechanically turned my left wrist as though I were
holding a bridle rein, for the complete darkness prevented my eyes
from reminding me that I had nothing but a halter in my hand.  The
expected resistance failed, for the halter was hanging upon that
side of the dromedary's neck towards which I was slightly leaning.
I toppled over, head foremost, and then went falling and falling
through air, till my crown came whang against the ground.  And the
ground too was perfectly hard (compacted sand), but the thickly
wadded headgear which I wore for protection against the sun saved
my life.  The notion of my being able to get up again after falling
head-foremost from such an immense height seemed to me at first too
paradoxical to be acted upon, but I soon found that I was not a bit
hurt.  My dromedary utterly vanished.  I looked round me, and saw
the glimmer of a light in the fort which I had lately passed, and I
began to work my way back in that direction.  The violence of the
gale made it hard for me to force my way towards the west, but I
succeeded at last in regaining the fort.  To this, as to the other
fort which I had passed, there was attached a cluster of huts, and
I soon found myself surrounded by a group of villainous, gloomy-
looking fellows.  It was a horrid bore for me to have to swagger
and look big at a time when I felt so particularly small on account
of my tumble and my lost dromedary; but there was no help for it; I
had no Dthemetri now to "strike terror" for me.  I knew hardly one
word of Arabic, but somehow or other I contrived to announce it as
my absolute will and pleasure that these fellows should find me the
means of gaining Suez.  They acceded, and having a donkey, they
saddled it for me, and appointed one of their number to attend me
on foot.

I afterwards found that these fellows were not Arabs, but Algerine
refugees, and that they bore the character of being sad scoundrels.
They justified this imputation to some extent on the following day.
They allowed Mysseri with my baggage and the camels to pass
unmolested, but an Arab lad belonging to the party happened to lag
a little way in the rear, and him (if they were not maligned) these
rascals stripped and robbed.  Low indeed is the state of bandit
morality when men will allow the sleek traveller with well-laden
camels to pass in quiet, reserving their spirit of enterprise for
the tattered turban of a miserable boy.

I reached Suez at last.  The British agent, though roused from his
midnight sleep, received me in his home with the utmost kindness
and hospitality.  Oh! by Jove, how delightful it was to lie on fair
sheets, and to dally with sleep, and to wake, and to sleep, and to
wake once more, for the sake of sleeping again!



CHAPTER XXII--SUEZ



I was hospitably entertained by the British consul, or agent, as he
is there styled.  He is the employe of the East India Company, and
not of the Home Government.  Napoleon during his stay of five days
at Suez had been the guest of the consul's father, and I was told
that the divan in my apartment had been the bed of the great
commander.

There are two opinions as to the point at which the Israelites
passed the Red Sea.  One is, that they traversed only the very
small creek at the northern extremity of the inlet, and that they
entered the bed of the water at the spot on which Suez now stands;
the other, that they crossed the sea from a point eighteen miles
down the coast.  The Oxford theologians, who, with Milman their
professor, {38} believe that Jehovah conducted His chosen people
without disturbing the order of nature, adopt the first view, and
suppose that the Israelites passed during an ebb-tide, aided by a
violent wind.  One among many objections to this supposition is,
that the time of a single ebb would not have been sufficient for
the passage of that vast multitude of men and beasts, or even for a
small fraction of it.  Moreover, the creek to the north of this
point can be compassed in an hour, and in two hours you can make
the circuit of the salt marsh over which the sea may have extended
in former times.  If, therefore, the Israelites crossed so high up
as Suez, the Egyptians, unless infatuated by Divine interference,
might easily have recovered their stolen goods from the encumbered
fugitives by making a slight detour.  The opinion which fixes the
point of passage at eighteen miles' distance, and from thence right
across the ocean depths to the eastern side of the sea, is
supported by the unanimous tradition of the people, whether
Christians or Mussulmans, and is consistent with Holy Writ:  "the
waters were a wall unto them on their right hand, AND ON THEIR
LEFT."  The Cambridge mathematicians seem to think that the
Israelites were enabled to pass over dry land by adopting a route
not usually subjected to the influx of the sea.  This notion is
plausible in a merely hydrostatical point of view, and is supposed
to have been adopted by most of the Fellows of Trinity, but
certainly not by Thorp, who is one of the most amiable of their
number.  It is difficult to reconcile this theory with the account
given in Exodus, unless we can suppose that the words "sea" and
"waters" are there used in a sense implying dry land.

Napoleon when at Suez made an attempt to follow the supposed steps
of Moses by passing the creek at this point, but it seems,
according to the testimony of the people at Suez, that he and his
horsemen managed the matter in a way more resembling the failure of
the Egyptians than the success of the Israelites.  According to the
French account, Napoleon got out of the difficulty by that warrior-
like presence of mind which served him so well when the fate of
nations depended on the decision of a moment--he ordered his
horsemen to disperse in all directions, in order to multiply the
chances of finding shallow water, and was thus enabled to discover
a line by which he and his people were extricated.  The story told
by the people of Suez is very different:  they declare that
Napoleon parted from his horse, got thoroughly submerged, and was
only fished out by the assistance of the people on shore.

I bathed twice at the point assigned to the passage of the
Israelites, and the second time that I did so I chose the time of
low water and tried to walk across, but I soon found myself out of
my depth, or at least in water so deep, that I could only advance
by swimming.

The dromedary, which had bolted in the Desert, was brought into
Suez the day after my arrival, but my pelisse and my pistols, which
had been attached to the saddle, had disappeared.  These articles
were treasures of great importance to me at that time, and I moved
the Governor of the town to make all possible exertions for their
recovery.  He acceded to my wishes as well as he could, and very
obligingly imprisoned the first seven poor fellows he could lay his
hands on.

At first the Governor acted in the matter from no other motive than
that of courtesy to an English traveller, but afterwards, and when
he saw the value which I set upon the lost property, he pushed his
measures with a degree of alacrity and heat, which seemed to show
that he felt a personal interest in the matter.  It was supposed
either that he expected a large present in the event of succeeding,
or that he was striving by all means to trace the property, in
order that he might lay his hands on it after my departure.

I went out sailing for some hours, and when I returned I was
horrified to find that two men had been bastinadoed by order of the
Governor, with a view to force them to a confession of their theft.
It appeared, however, that there really was good ground for
supposing them guilty, since one of the holsters was actually found
in their possession.  It was said too (but I could hardly believe
it), that whilst one of the men was undergoing the bastinado, his
comrade was overheard encouraging him to bear the torment without
peaching.  Both men, if they had the secret, were resolute in
keeping it, and were sent back to their dungeon.  I of course took
care that there should be no repetition of the torture, at least so
long as I remained at Suez.

The Governor was a thorough Oriental, and until a comparatively
recent period had shared in the old Mahometan feeling of contempt
for Europeans.  It happened however, one day that an English gun-
brig had appeared off Suez, and sent her boats ashore to take in
fresh water.  Now fresh water at Suez is a somewhat scarce and
precious commodity:  it is kept in tanks, the chief of which is at
some distance from the place.  Under these circumstances the
request for fresh water was refused, or at all events, was not
complied with.  The captain of the brig was a simple-minded man
with a strongish will, and he at once declared that if his casks
were not filled in three hours, he would destroy the whole place.
"A great people indeed!" said the Governor; "a wonderful people,
the English!"  He instantly caused every cask to be filled to the
brim from his own tank, and ever afterwards entertained for the
English a degree of affection and respect, for which I felt
infinitely indebted to the gallant captain.

The day after the abortive attempt to extract a confession from the
prisoners, the Governor, the consul, and I sat in council, I know
not how long, with a view of prosecuting the search for the stolen
goods.  The sitting, considered in the light of a criminal
investigation, was characteristic of the East.  The proceedings
began as a matter of course by the prosecutor's smoking a pipe and
drinking coffee with the Governor, who was judge, jury, and
sheriff.  I got on very well with him (this was not my first
interview), and he gave me the pipe from his lips in testimony of
his friendship.  I recollect, however, that my prime adviser,
thinking me, I suppose, a great deal too shy and retiring in my
manner, entreated me to put up my boots and to soil the Governor's
divan, in order to inspire respect and strike terror.  I thought it
would be as well for me to retain the right of respecting myself,
and that it was not quite necessary for a well-received guest to
strike any terror at all.

Our deliberations were assisted by the numerous attendants who
lined the three sides of the room not occupied by the divan.  Any
one of these who took it into his head to offer a suggestion would
stand forward and humble himself before the Governor, and then
state his views; every man thus giving counsel was listened to with
some attention.

After a great deal of fruitless planning the Governor directed that
the prisoners should be brought in.  I was shocked when they
entered, for I was not prepared to see them come CARRIED into the
room upon the shoulders of others.  It had not occurred to me that
their battered feet would be too sore to bear the contact of the
floor.  They persisted in asserting their innocence.  The Governor
wanted to recur to the torture, but that I prevented, and the men
were carried back to their dungeon.

A scheme was now suggested by one of the attendants which seemed to
me childishly absurd, but it was nevertheless tried.  The plan was
to send a man to the prisoners, who was to make them believe that
he had obtained entrance into their dungeon upon some other
pretence, but that he had in reality come to treat with them for
the purchase of the stolen goods.  This shallow expedient of course
failed.

The Governor himself had not nominally the power of life and death
over the people in his district, but he could if he chose send them
to Cairo, and have them hanged there.  I proposed, therefore, that
the prisoners should be threatened with this fate.  The answer of
the Governor made me feel rather ashamed of my effeminate
suggestion.  He said that if I wished it he would willingly
threaten them with death, but he also said that if he threatened,
HE SHOULD EXECUTE THE THREAT.

Thinking at last that nothing was to be gained by keeping the
prisoners any longer in confinement, I requested that they might be
set free.  To this the Governor acceded, though only, as he said,
out of favour to me, for he had a strong impression that the men
were guilty.  I went down to see the prisoners let out with my own
eyes.  They were very grateful, and fell down to the earth, kissing
my boots.  I gave them a present to console them for their wounds,
and they seemed to be highly delighted.

Although the matter terminated in a manner so satisfactory to the
principal sufferers, there were symptoms of some angry excitement
in the place:  it was said that public opinion was much shocked at
the fact that Mahometans had been beaten on account of a loss
sustained by a Christian.  My journey was to recommence the next
day, and it was hinted that if I preservered in my intention of
proceeding, the people would have an easy and profitable
opportunity of wreaking their vengeance on me.  If ever they formed
any scheme of the kind, they at all events refrained from any
attempt to carry it into effect.

One of the evenings during my stay at Suez was enlivened by a
triple wedding.  There was a long and slow procession.  Some
carried torches, and others were thumping drums and firing pistols.
The bridegrooms came last, all walking abreast.  My only reason for
mentioning the ceremony (which was otherwise uninteresting) is,
that I scarcely ever in all my life saw any phenomena so ridiculous
as the meekness and gravity of those three young men whilst being
"led to the altar."



CHAPTER XXIII--SUEZ TO GAZA



The route over the Desert from Suez to Gaza is not frequented by
merchants, and is seldom passed by a traveller.  This part of the
country is less uniformly barren than the tracts of shifting sand
that lie on the El Arish route.  The shrubs on which the camel
feeds are more frequent, and in many spots the sand is mingled with
so much of productive soil, as to admit the growth of corn.  The
Bedouins are driven out of this district during the summer by the
total want of water, but before the time for their forced departure
arrives they succeed in raising little crops of barley from these
comparatively fertile patches of ground.  They bury the fruit of
their labours, leaving marks by which, upon their return, they may
be able to recognise the spot.  The warm, dry sand stands them for
a safe granary.  The country at the time I passed it (in the month
of April) was pretty thickly sprinkled with Bedouins expecting
their harvest.  Several times my tent was pitched alongside of
their encampments.  I have told you already what the impressions
were which these people produced upon my mind.

I saw several creatures of the antelope kind in this part of the
Desert, and one day my Arabs surprised in her sleep a young gazelle
(for so I called her), and took the darling prisoner.  I carried
her before me on my camel for the rest of the day, and kept her in
my tent all night.  I did all I could to coax her, but the
trembling beauty refused to touch food, and would not be comforted.
Whenever she had a seeming opportunity of escaping she struggled
with a violence so painfully disproportioned to her fine, delicate
limbs, that I could not continue the cruel attempt to make her my
own.  In the morning, therefore, I set her free, anticipating some
pleasure from seeing the joyous bound with which, as I thought, she
would return to her native freedom.  She had been so stupefied,
however, by the exciting events of the preceding day and night, and
was so puzzled as to the road she should take, that she went off
very deliberately, and with an uncertain step.  She went away quite
sound in limb, but her intellect may have been upset.  Never in all
likelihood had she seen the form of a human being until the
dreadful moment when she woke from her sleep and found herself in
the grip of an Arab.  Then her pitching and tossing journey on the
back of a camel, and lastly, a soiree with me by candlelight!  I
should have been glad to know, if I could, that her heart was not
utterly broken.

My Arabs were somewhat excited one day by discovering the fresh
print of a foot--the foot, as they said, of a lion.  I had no
conception that the lord of the forest (better known as a crest)
ever stalked away from his jungles to make inglorious war in these
smooth plains against antelopes and gazelles.  I supposed that
there must have been some error of interpretation, and that the
Arabs meant to speak of a tiger.  It appeared, however, that this
was not the case.  Either the Arabs were mistaken, or the noble
brute, uncooped and unchained, had but lately crossed my path.

The camels with which I traversed this part of the Desert were very
different in their ways and habits from those that you get on a
frequented route.  They were never led.  There was not the
slightest sign of a track in this part of the Desert, but the
camels never failed to choose the right line.  By the direction
taken at starting they knew, I suppose, the point (some encampment)
for which they were to make.  There is always a leading camel
(generally, I believe, the eldest), who marches foremost, and
determines the path for the whole party.  If it happens that no one
of the camels has been accustomed to lead the others, there is very
great difficulty in making a start.  If you force your beast
forward for a moment, he will contrive to wheel and draw back, at
the same time looking at one of the other camels with an expression
and gesture exactly equivalent to apres vous.  The responsibility
of finding the way is evidently assumed very unwillingly.  After
some time, however, it becomes understood that one of the beasts
has reluctantly consented to take the lead, and he accordingly
advances for that purpose.  For a minute or two he goes on with
much indecision, taking first one line and then another, but soon
by the aid of some mysterious sense he discovers the true
direction, and follows it steadily from morning to night.  When
once the leadership is established, you cannot by any persuasion,
and can scarcely by any force, induce a junior camel to walk one
single step in advance of the chosen guide.

On the fifth day I came to an oasis, called the Wady el Arish, a
ravine, or rather a gully, through which during a part of the year
there runs a stream of water.  On the sides of the gully there were
a number of those graceful trees which the Arabs call tarfa.  The
channel of the stream was quite dry in the part at which we
arrived, but at about half a mile off some water was found, which,
though very muddy, was tolerably sweet.  This was a happy
discovery, for all the water that we had brought from the
neighbourhood of Suez was rapidly putrefying.

The want of foresight is an anomalous part of the Bedouin's
character, for it does not result either from recklessness or
stupidity.  I know of no human being whose body is so thoroughly
the slave of mind as that of the Arab.  His mental anxieties seem
to be for ever torturing every nerve and fibre of his body, and yet
with all this exquisite sensitiveness to the suggestions of the
mind, he is grossly improvident.  I recollect, for instance, that
when setting out upon this passage of the Desert my Arabs, in order
to lighten the burthen of their camels, were most anxious that we
should take with us only two days' supply of water.  They said that
by the time that supply was exhausted we should arrive at a spring
which would furnish us for the rest of the journey.  My servants
very wisely, and with much pertinacity, resisted the adoption of
this plan, and took care to have both the large skins well filled.
We proceeded and found no water at all, either at the expected
spring or for many days afterwards, so that nothing but the
precaution of my own people saved us from the very severe suffering
which we should have endured if we had entered upon the Desert with
only a two days' supply.  The Arabs themselves being on foot would
have suffered much more than I from the consequences of their
improvidence.

This unaccountable want of foresight prevents the Bedouin from
appreciating at a distance of eight or ten days the amount of the
misery which he entails upon himself at the end of that period.
His dread of a city is one of the most painful mental affections
that I have ever observed, and yet when the whole breadth of the
Desert lies between him and the town to which you are going, he
will freely enter into an agreement to LAND you in the city for
which you are bound.  When, however, after many a day of toil the
distant minarets at length appear, the poor Bedouin relaxes the
vigour of his pace, his steps become faltering and undecided, every
moment his uneasiness increases, and at length he fairly sobs
aloud, and embracing your knees, implores with the most piteous
cries and gestures that you will dispense with him and his camels,
and find some other means of entering the city.  This, of course,
one can't agree to, and the consequence is that one is obliged to
witness and resist the most moving expressions of grief and fond
entreaty.  I had to go through a most painful scene of this kind
when I entered Cairo, and now the horror which these wilder Arabs
felt at the notion of entering Gaza led to consequences still more
distressing.  The dread of cities results partly from a kind of
wild instinct which has always characterised the descendants of
Ishmael, but partly too from a well-founded apprehension of ill-
treatment.  So often it happens that the poor Bedouin, when once
jammed in between walls, is seized by the Government authorities
for the sake of his camels, that his innate horror of cities
becomes really justified by results.

The Bedouins with whom I performed this journey were wild fellows
of the Desert, quite unaccustomed to let out themselves or their
beasts for hire, and when they found that by the natural ascendency
of Europeans they were gradually brought down to a state of
subserviency to me, or rather to my attendants, they bitterly
repented, I believe, of having placed themselves under our control.
They were rather difficult fellows to manage, and gave Dthemetri a
good deal of trouble, but I liked them all the better for that.

Selim, the chief of the party, and the man to whom all our camels
belonged, was a fine, savage, stately fellow.  There were, I think,
five other Arabs of the party, but when we approached the end of
the journey they one by one began to make off towards the
neighbouring encampments, and by the time that the minarets of Gaza
were in sight, Selim, the owner of the camels, was the only one who
remained.  He, poor fellow, as we neared the town began to discover
the same terrors that my Arabs had shown when I entered Cairo.  I
could not possibly accede to his entreaties and consent to let my
baggage be laid down on the bare sands, without any means of having
it brought on into the city.  So at length, when poor Selim had
exhausted all his rhetoric of voice and action and tears, he fixed
his despairing eyes for a minute upon the cherished beasts that
were his only wealth, and then suddenly and madly dashed away into
the farther Desert.  I continued my course and reached the city at
last, but it was not without immense difficulty that we could
constrain the poor camels to pass under the hated shadow of its
walls.  They were the genuine beasts of the Desert, and it was sad
and painful to witness the agony they suffered when thus they were
forced to encounter the fixed habitations of men.  They shrank from
the beginning of every high narrow street as though from the
entrance of some horrible cave or bottomless pit; they sighed and
wept like women.  When at last we got them within the courtyard of
the khan they seemed to be quite broken-hearted, and looked round
piteously for their loving master; but no Selim came.  I had
imagined that he would enter the town secretly by night in order to
carry off those five fine camels, his only wealth in this world,
and seemingly the main objects of his affection.  But no; his dread
of civilisation was too strong.  During the whole of the three days
that I remained at Gaza he failed to show himself, and thus
sacrificed in all probability not only his camels, but the money
which I had stipulated to pay him for the passage of the Desert.
In order, however, to do all I could towards saving him from this
last misfortune I resorted to a contrivance frequently adopted by
the Asiatics:  I assembled a group of grave and worthy Mussulmans
in the courtyard of the khan, and in their presence paid over the
gold to a Sheik who was accustomed to communicate with the Arabs of
the Desert.  All present solemnly promised that if ever Selim
should come to claim his rights, they would bear true witness in
his favour.

I saw a great deal of my old friend the Governor of Gaza.  He had
received orders to send back all persons coming from Egypt, and
force them to perform quarantine at El Arish.  He knew so little of
quarantine regulations, however, that his dress was actually in
contact with mine whilst he insisted upon the stringency of the
orders which he had received.  He was induced to make an exception
in my favour, and I rewarded him with a musical snuffbox which I
had bought at Smyrna for the purpose of presenting it to any man in
authority who might happen to do me an important service.  The
Governor was delighted with his toy, and took it off to his harem
with great exultation.  He soon, however, returned with an altered
countenance; his wives, he said, had got hold of the box and put it
out of order.  So short-lived is human happiness in this frail
world!

The Governor fancied that he should incur less risk if remained at
Gaza for two or three days more, and he wanted me to become his
guest.  I persuaded him, however, that it would be better for him
to let me depart at once.  He wanted to add to my baggage a roast
lamb and a quantity of other cumbrous viands, but I escaped with
half a horse-load of leaven bread, which was very good of its kind,
and proved a most useful present.  The air with which the
Governor's slaves affected to be almost breaking down under the
weight of the gifts which they bore on their shoulders, reminded me
of the figures one sees in some of the old pictures.



CHAPTER XXIV--GAZA TO NABLUS



Passing now once again through Palestine and Syria I retained the
tent which I had used in the Desert, and found that it added very
much to my comfort in travelling.  Instead of turning out a family
from some wretched dwelling, and depriving them of a repose which I
was sure not to find for myself, I now, when evening came, pitched
my tent upon some smiling spot within a few hundred yards of the
village to which I looked for my supplies, that is, for milk and
bread if I had it not with me, and sometimes also for eggs.  The
worst of it is, that the needful viands are not to be obtained by
coin, but only by intimidation.  I at first tried the usual agent,
money.  Dthemetri, with one or two of my Arabs, went into the
village near which I was encamped and tried to buy the required
provisions, offering liberal payment, but he came back empty-
handed.  I sent him again, but this time he held different
language.  He required to see the elders of the place, and
threatening dreadful vengeance, directed them upon their
responsibility to take care that my tent should be immediately and
abundantly supplied.  He was obeyed at once, and the provisions
refused to me as a purchaser soon arrived, trebled or quadrupled,
when demanded by way of a forced contribution.  I quickly found (I
think it required two experiments to convince me) that this
peremptory method was the only one which could be adopted with
success.  It never failed.  Of course, however, when the provisions
have been actually obtained you can, if you choose, give money
exceeding the value of the provisions to SOMEBODY.  An English, a
thoroughbred English, traveller will always do this (though it is
contrary to the custom of the country) for the quiet (false quiet
though it be) of his own conscience, but so to order the matter
that the poor fellows who have been forced to contribute should be
the persons to receive the value of their supplies, is not
possible.  For a traveller to attempt anything so grossly just as
that would be too outrageous.  The truth is, that the usage of the
East, in old times, required the people of the village, at their
own cost, to supply the wants of travellers, and the ancient custom
is now adhered to, not in favour of travellers generally, but in
favour of those who are deemed sufficiently powerful to enforce its
observance.  If the villagers therefore find a man waiving this
right to oppress them, and offering coin for that which he is
entitled to take without payment, they suppose at once that he is
actuated by fear (fear of THEM, poor fellows!), and it is so
delightful to them to act upon this flattering assumption, that
they will forego the advantage of a good price for their provisions
rather than the rare luxury of refusing for once in their lives to
part with their own possessions.

The practice of intimidation thus rendered necessary is utterly
hateful to an Englishman.  He finds himself forced to conquer his
daily bread by the pompous threats of the dragoman, his very
subsistence, as well as his dignity and personal safety, being made
to depend upon his servant's assuming a tone of authority which
does not at all belong to him.  Besides, he can scarcely fail to
see that as he passes through the country he becomes the innocent
cause of much extra injustice, many supernumerary wrongs.  This he
feels to be especially the case when he travels with relays.  To be
the owner of a horse or a mule within reach of an Asiatic
potentate, is to lead the life of the hare and the rabbit, hunted
down and ferreted out.  Too often it happens that the works of the
field are stopped in the daytime, that the inmates of the cottage
are roused from their midnight sleep, by the sudden coming of a
Government officer, and the poor husbandman, driven by threats and
rewarded by curses, if he would not lose sight for ever of his
captured beasts, must quit all and follow them.  This is done that
the Englishman may travel.  He would make his way more harmless if
he could, but horses or mules he MUST have, and these are his ways
and means.

The town of Nablus is beautiful; it lies in a valley hemmed in with
olive groves, and its buildings are interspersed with frequent
palm-trees.  It is said to occupy the site of the ancient Sychem.
I know not whether it was there indeed that the father of the Jews
was accustomed to feed his flocks, but the valley is green and
smiling, and is held at this day by a race more brave and beautiful
than Jacob's unhappy descendants.

Nablus is the very furnace of Mahometan bigotry; and I believe that
only a few months before the time of my going there it would have
been quite unsafe for a man, unless strongly guarded, to show
himself to the people of the town in a Frank costume; but since
their last insurrection the Mahometans of the place had been so far
subdued by the severity of Ibrahim Pasha, that they dared not now
offer the slightest insult to an European.  It was quite plain,
however, that the effort with which the men of the old school
refrained from expressing their opinion of a hat and a coat was
horribly painful to them.  As I walked through the streets and
bazaars a dead silence prevailed; every man suspended his
employment, and gazed on me with a fixed, glassy look, which seemed
to say, "God is good, but how marvellous and inscrutable are His
ways that thus He permits this white-faced dog of a Christian to
hunt through the paths of the faithful."

The insurrection of these people had been more formidable than any
other that Ibrahim Pasha had to contend with.  He was only able to
crush them at last by the assistance of a fellow renowned for his
resources in the way of stratagem and cunning, as well as for his
knowledge of the country.  This personage was no other than Aboo
Goosh ("the father of lies" {39}), who was taken out of prison for
the purpose.  The "father of lies" enabled Ibrahim to hem in the
insurrection and extinguish it.  He was rewarded with the
Governorship of Jerusalem, which he held when I was there.  I
recollect, by-the-bye, that he tried one of his stratagems upon me.
I did not go to see him, as I ought in courtesy to have done,
during my stay at Jerusalem; but I happened to be the owner of a
rather handsome amber tchibouque piece, which the Governor heard
of, and by some means contrived to see.  He sent to me, and dressed
up a statement that he would give me a price immensely exceeding
the sum which I had given for it.  He did not add my tchibouque to
the rest of his trophies.

There was a small number of Greek Christians resident in Nablus,
and over these the Mussulmans held a high hand, not even permitting
them to speak to each other in the open streets; but if the Moslems
thus set themselves above the poor Christians of the place, I, or
rather my servants, soon took the ascendant over THEM.  I recollect
that just as we were starting from the place, and at a time when a
number of people had gathered together in the main street to see
our preparations, Mysseri, being provoked at some piece of
perverseness on the part of a true believer, coolly thrashed him
with his horsewhip before the assembled crowd of fanatics.  I was
much annoyed at the time, for I thought that the people would
probably rise against us.  They turned rather pale, but stood
still.

The day of my arrival at Nablus was a fete--the new-year's day of
the Mussulmans. {40}  Most of the people were amusing themselves in
the beautiful lawns and shady groves without the city.  The men
(except myself) were all remotely apart from the other sex.  The
women in groups were diverting themselves and their children with
swings.  They were so handsome, that they could not keep up their
yashmaks.  I believe that they had never before looked upon a man
in the European dress, and when they now saw in me that strange
phenomenon, and saw, too, how they could please the creature by
showing him a glimpse of beauty, they seemed to think it was better
fun to do this than to go on playing with swings.  It was always,
however, with a sort of zoological expression of countenance that
they looked on the horrible monster from Europe, and whenever one
of them gave me to see for one sweet instant the blushing of her
unveiled face, it was with the same kind of air as that with which
a young, timid girl will edge her way up to an elephant and
tremblingly give him a nut from the tips of her rosy fingers.



CHAPTER XXV--MARIAM



There is no spirit of propagandism in the Mussulmans of the Ottoman
dominions.  True it is that a prisoner of war, or a Christian
condemned to death, may on some occasions save his life by adopting
the religion of Mahomet, but instances of this kind are now
exceedingly rare, and are quite at variance with the general
system.  Many Europeans, I think, would be surprised to learn that
which is nevertheless quite true, namely, that an attempt to
disturb the religious repose of the empire by the conversion of a
Christian to the Mahometan faith is positively illegal.  The event
which now I am going to mention shows plainly enough that the
unlawfulness of such interference is distinctly recognised even in
the most bigoted stronghold of Islam.

During my stay at Nablus I took up my quarters at the house of the
Greek "papa" as he is called, that is, the Greek priest.  The
priest himself had gone to Jerusalem upon the business I am going
to tell you of, but his wife remained at Nablus, and did the
honours of her home.

Soon after my arrival a deputation from the Greek Christians of the
place came to request my interference in a matter which had
occasioned vast excitement.

And now I must tell you how it came to happen, as it did
continually, that people thought it worth while to claim the
assistance of a mere traveller, who was totally devoid of all just
pretensions to authority or influence of even the humblest
description, and especially I must explain to you how it was that
the power thus attributed did really belong to me, or rather to my
dragoman.  Successive political convulsions had at length fairly
loosed the people of Syria from their former rules of conduct, and
from all their old habits of reliance.  The violence and success
with which Mehemet Ali crushed the insurrection of the Mahometan
population had utterly beaten down the head of Islam, and
extinguished, for the time at least, those virtues and vices which
had sprung from the Mahometan faith.  Success so complete as
Mehemet Ali's, if it had been attained by an ordinary Asiatic
potentate, would have induced a notion of stability.  The readily
bowing mind of the Oriental would have bowed low and long under the
feet of a conqueror whom God had thus strengthened.  But Syria was
no field for contests strictly Asiatic.  Europe was involved, and
though the heavy masses of Egyptian troops, clinging with strong
grip to the land, might seem to hold it fast, yet every peasant
practically felt, and knew, that in Vienna or Petersburg or London
there were four or five pale-looking men who could pull down the
star of the Pasha with shreds of paper and ink.  The people of the
country knew, too, that Mehemet Ali was strong with the strength of
the Europeans--strong by his French general, his French tactics,
and his English engines.  Moreover, they saw that the person, the
property, and even the dignity of the humblest European was guarded
with the most careful solicitude.  The consequence of all this was,
that the people of Syria looked vaguely, but confidently, to Europe
for fresh changes.  Many would fix upon some nation, France or
England, and steadfastly regard it as the arriving sovereign of
Syria.  Those whose minds remained in doubt equally contributed to
this new state of public opinion, which no longer depended upon
religion and ancient habits, but upon bare hopes and fears.  Every
man wanted to know, not who was his neighbour, but who was to be
his ruler; whose feet he was to kiss, and by whom HIS feet were to
be ultimately beaten.  Treat your friend, says the proverb, as
though he were one day to become your enemy, and your enemy as
though he were one day to become your friend.  The Syrians went
further, and seemed inclined to treat every stranger as though he
might one day become their Pasha.  Such was the state of
circumstances and of feeling which now for the first time had
thoroughly opened the mind of Western Asia for the reception of
Europeans and European ideas.  The credit of the English especially
was so great, that a good Mussulman flying from the conscription,
or any other persecution, would come to seek from the formerly
despised hat that protection which the turban could no longer
afford; and a man high in authority (as, for instance, the Governor
in command of Gaza) would think that he had won a prize, or at all
events, a valuable lottery ticket, if he obtained a written
approval of his conduct from a simple traveller.

Still, in order that any immediate result should follow from all
this unwonted readiness in the Asiatic to succumb to the European,
it was necessary that some one should be at hand who could see and
would push the advantage.  I myself had neither the inclination nor
the power to do so, but it happened that Dthemetri, who as my
dragoman represented me on all occasions, was the very person of
all others best fitted to avail himself with success of this
yielding tendency in the Oriental mind.  If the chance of birth and
fortune had made poor Dthemetri a tailor during some part of his
life, yet religion and the literature of the Church which he served
had made him a man, and a brave man too.  The lives of saints with
which he was familiar were full of heroic actions provoking
imitation, and since faith in a creed involves a faith in its
ultimate triumph, Dthemetri was bold from a sense of true strength.
His education too, though not very general in its character, had
been carried quite far enough to justify him in pluming himself
upon a very decided advantage over the great bulk of the Mahometan
population, including the men in authority.  With all this
consciousness of religious and intellectual superiority Dthemetri
had lived for the most part in countries lying under Mussulman
governments, and had witnessed (perhaps too had suffered from)
their revolting cruelties:  the result was that he abhorred and
despised the Mahometan faith and all who clung to it.  And this
hate was not of the dry, dull, and inactive sort.  Dthemetri was in
his sphere a true Crusader, and whenever there appeared a fair
opening in the defences of Islam, he was ready and eager to make
the assault.  These sentiments, backed by a consciousness of
understanding the people with whom he had to do, made Dthemetri not
only firm and resolute in his constant interviews with men in
authority, but sometimes also (as you may know already) very
violent and even insulting.  This tone, which I always disliked,
though I was fain to profit by it, invariably succeeded.  It swept
away all resistance; there was nothing in the then depressed and
succumbing mind of the Mussulman that could oppose a zeal so warm
and fierce.

As for me, I of course stood aloof from Dthemetri's crusades, and
did not even render him any active assistance when he was striving
(as he almost always was, poor fellow) on my behalf; I was only the
death's head and white sheet with which he scared the enemy.  I
think, however, that I played this spectral part exceedingly well,
for I seldom appeared at all in any discussion, and whenever I did,
I was sure to be white and calm.

The event which induced the Christians of Nablus to seek for my
assistance was this.  A beautiful young Christian, between fifteen
and sixteen years old, had lately been married to a man of her own
creed.  About the same time (probably on the occasion of her
wedding) she was accidentally seen by a Mussulman Sheik of great
wealth and local influence, who instantly became madly enamoured of
her.  The strict morality which so generally prevails where the
Mussulmans have complete ascendency prevented the Sheik from
entertaining any such sinful hopes as an European might have
ventured to cherish under the like circumstances, and he saw no
chance of gratifying his love except by inducing the girl to
embrace his own creed.  If he could induce her to take this step,
her marriage with the Christian would be dissolved, and then there
would be nothing to prevent him from making her the last and
brightest of his wives.  The Sheik was a practical man, and quickly
began his attack upon the theological opinions of the bride.  He
did not assail her with the eloquence of any imaums or Mussulman
saints; he did not press upon her the eternal truths of the "Cow,"
{41} or the beautiful morality of "the Table"; {42} he sent her no
tracts, not even a copy of the holy Koran.  An old woman acted as
missionary.  She brought with her a whole basketful of arguments--
jewels and shawls and scarfs and all kinds of persuasive finery.
Poor Mariam! she put on the jewels and took a calm view of the
Mahometan religion in a little hand-mirror; she could not be deaf
to such eloquent earrings, and the great truths of Islam came home
to her young bosom in the delicate folds of the cashmere; she was
ready to abandon her faith.

The Sheik knew very well that his attempt to convert an infidel was
illegal, and that his proceedings would not bear investigation, so
he took care to pay a large sum to the Governor of Nablus in order
to obtain his connivance.

At length Mariam quitted her home and placed herself under the
protection of the Mahometan authorities, who, however, refrained
from delivering her into the arms of her lover, and detained her in
a mosque until the fact of her real conversion (which had been
indignantly denied by her relatives) should be established.  For
two or three days the mother of the young convert was prevented
from communicating with her child by various evasive contrivances,
but not, it would seem, by a flat refusal.  At length it was
announced that the young lady's profession of faith might be heard
from her own lips.  At an hour appointed the friends of the Sheik
and the relatives of the damsel met in the mosque.  The young
convert addressed her mother in a loud voice, and said, "God is
God, and Mahomet is the Prophet of God, and thou, oh my mother, art
an infidel, feminine dog!"

You would suppose that this declaration, so clearly enounced, and
that, too, in a place where Mahometanism is perhaps more supreme
than in any other part of the empire, would have sufficed to have
confirmed the pretensions of the lover.  This, however, was not the
case.  The Greek priest of the place was despatched on a mission to
the Governor of Jerusalem (Aboo Goosh), in order to complain
against the proceedings of the Sheik and obtain a restitution of
the bride.  Meanwhile the Mahometan authorities at Nablus were so
conscious of having acted unlawfully in conspiring to disturb the
faith of the beautiful infidel, that they hesitated to take any
further steps, and the girl was still detained in the mosque.

Thus matters stood when the Christians of the place came and sought
to obtain my assistance.

I felt (with regret) that I had no personal interest in the matter,
and I also thought that there was no pretence for my interfering
with the conflicting claims of the Christian husband and the
Mahometan lover, and I therefore declined to take any step.

My speaking of the husband, by-the-bye, reminds me that he was
extremely backward about the great work of recovering his youthful
bride.  The relations of the girl, who felt themselves disgraced by
her conduct, were vehement and excited to a high pitch, but the
Menelaus of Nablus was exceedingly calm and composed.

The fact that it was not technically my duty to interfere in a
matter of this kind was a very sufficient, and yet a very
unsatisfactory, reason for my refusal of all assistance.  Until you
are placed in situations of this kind you can hardly tell how
painful it is to refrain from intermeddling in other people's
affairs--to refrain from intermeddling when you feel that you can
do so with happy effect, and can remove a load of distress by the
use of a few small phrases.  Upon this occasion, however, an
expression fell from one of the girl's kinsmen which not only
determined me against the idea of interfering, but made me hope
that all attempts to recover the proselyte would fail.  This
person, speaking with the most savage bitterness, and with the
cordial approval of all the other relatives, said that the girl
ought to be beaten to death.  I could not fail to see that if the
poor child were ever restored to her family she would be treated
with the most frightful barbarity.  I heartily wished, therefore,
that the Mussulmans might be firm, and preserve their young prize
from any fate so dreadful as that of a return to her own relations.

The next day the Greek priest returned from his mission to Aboo
Goosh, but the "father of lies," it would seem, had been well plied
with the gold of the enamoured Sheik, and contrived to put off the
prayers of the Christians by cunning feints.  Now, therefore, a
second and more numerous deputation than the first waited upon me,
and implored my intervention with the Governor.  I informed the
assembled Christians that since their last application I had
carefully considered the matter.  The religious question I thought
might be put aside at once, for the excessive levity which the girl
had displayed proved clearly that in adopting Mahometanism she was
not quitting any other faith.  Her mind must have been thoroughly
blank upon religious questions, and she was not, therefore, to be
treated as a Christian that had strayed from the flock, but rather
as a child without any religion at all, who was willing to conform
to the usages of those who would deck her with jewels, and clothe
her with cashmere shawls.

So much for the religious part of the question.  Well, then, in a
merely temporal sense, it appeared to me that (looking merely to
the interests of the damsel, for I rather unjustly put poor
Menelaus quite out of the question) the advantages were all on the
side of the Mahometan match.  The Sheik was in a much higher
station of life than the superseded husband, and had given the best
possible proof of his ardent affection by the sacrifices he had
made, and the risks he had incurred, for the sake of the beloved
object.  I, therefore, stated fairly, to the horror and amazement
of all my hearers, that the Sheik, in my view, was likely to make a
most capital husband, and that I entirely "approved of the match."

I left Nablus under the impression that Mariam would soon be
delivered to her Mussulman lover.  I afterwards found, however,
that the result was very different.  Dthemetri's religious zeal and
hate had been so much excited by the account of these events, and
by the grief and mortification of his co-religionists, that when he
found me firmly determined to decline all interference in the
matter, he secretly appealed to the Governor in my name, and
(using, I suppose, many violent threats, and telling no doubt many
lies about my station and influence) extorted a promise that the
proselyte should be restored to her relatives.  I did not
understand that the girl had been actually given up whilst I
remained at Nablus, but Dthemetri certainly did not desist from his
instances until he had satisfied himself by some means or other
(for mere words amounted to nothing) that the promise would be
actually performed.  It was not till I had quitted Syria, and when
Dthemetri was no longer in my service, that this villainous, though
well-motived trick, of his came to my knowledge.  Mysseri, who had
informed me of the step which had been taken, did not know it
himself until some time after we had quitted Nablus, when Dthemetri
exultingly confessed his successful enterprise.  I know not whether
the engagement which my zealous dragoman extorted from the Governor
was ever complied with.  I shudder to think of the fate which must
have befallen poor Mariam if she fell into the hands of the
Christians.



CHAPTER XXVI--THE PROPHET DAMOOR



For some hours I passed along the shores of the fair lake of
Galilee; then turning a little to the westward, I struck into a
mountainous tract, and as I advanced thenceforward, the lie of the
country kept growing more and more bold.  At length I drew near to
the city of Safed.  It sits as proud as a fortress upon the summit
of a craggy height; yet because of its minarets and stately trees,
the place looks happy and beautiful.  It is one of the holy cities
of the Talmud, and according to this authority, the Messiah will
reign there for forty years before He takes possession of Sion.
The sanctity and historical importance thus attributed to the city
by anticipation render it a favourite place of retirement for
Israelites, of whom it contains, they say, about four thousand, a
number nearly balancing that of the Mahometan inhabitants.  I knew
by my experience of Tabarieh that a "holy city" was sure to have a
population of vermin somewhat proportionate to the number of its
Israelites, and I therefore caused my tent to be pitched upon a
green spot of ground at a respectful distance from the walls of the
town.

When it had become quite dark (for there was no moon that night) I
was informed that several Jews had secretly come from the city in
the hope of obtaining some assistance from me in circumstances of
imminent danger; I was also informed that they claimed my aid upon
the ground that some of their number were British subjects.  It was
arranged that the two principal men of the party should speak for
the rest, and these were accordingly admitted into my tent.  One of
the two called himself the British vice-consul, and he had with him
his consular cap, but he frankly said that he could not have dared
to assume this emblem of his dignity in the daytime, and that
nothing but the extreme darkness of the night rendered it safe for
him to put it on upon this occasion.  The other of the spokesmen
was a Jew of Gibraltar, a tolerably well-bred person, who spoke
English very fluently.

These men informed me that the Jews of the place, who were
exceedingly wealthy, had lived peaceably in their retirement until
the insurrection which took place in 1834, but about the beginning
of that year a highly religious Mussulman called Mohammed Damoor
went forth into the market-place, crying with a loud voice, and
prophesying that on the fifteenth of the following June the true
Believers would rise up in just wrath against the Jews, and despoil
them of their gold and their silver and their jewels.  The
earnestness of the prophet produced some impression at the time,
but all went on as usual, until at last the fifteenth of June
arrived.  When that day dawned the whole Mussulman population of
the place assembled in the streets that they might see the result
of the prophecy.  Suddenly Mohammed Damoor rushed furious into the
crowd, and the fierce shout of the prophet soon ensured the
fulfilment of his prophecy.  Some of the Jews fled and some
remained, but they who fled and they who remained, alike, and
unresistingly, left their property to the hands of the spoilers.
The most odious of all outrages, that of searching the women for
the base purpose of discovering such things as gold and silver
concealed about their persons, was perpetrated without shame.  The
poor Jews were so stricken with terror, that they submitted to
their fate even where resistance would have been easy.  In several
instances a young Mussulman boy, not more than ten or twelve years
of age, walked straight into the house of a Jew and stripped him of
his property before his face, and in the presence of his whole
family. {43}  When the insurrection was put down some of the
Mussulmans (most probably those who had got no spoil wherewith they
might buy immunity) were punished, but the greater part of them
escaped.  None of the booty was restored, and the pecuniary redress
which the Pasha had undertaken to enforce for them had been
hitherto so carefully delayed, that the hope of ever obtaining it
had grown very faint.  A new Governor had been appointed to the
command of the place, with stringent orders to ascertain the real
extent of the losses, and to discover the spoilers, with a view of
compelling them to make restitution.  It was found that,
notwithstanding the urgency of the instructions which the Governor
had received, he did not push on the affair with the vigour that
had been expected.  The Jews complained, and either by the
protection of the British consul at Damascus, or by some other
means, had influence enough to induce the appointment of a special
commissioner--they called him "the Modeer"--whose duty it was to
watch for and prevent anything like connivance on the part of the
Governor, and to push on the investigation with vigour and
impartiality.

Such were the instructions with which some few weeks since the
Modeer came charged.  The result was that the investigation had
made no practical advance, and that the Modeer as well as the
Governor was living upon terms of affectionate friendship with
Mohammed Damoor and the rest of the principal spoilers.

Thus stood the chance of redress for the past, but the cause of the
agonising excitement under which the Jews of the place now laboured
was recent and justly alarming.  Mohammed Damoor had again gone
forth into the market-place, and lifted up his voice and prophesied
a second spoliation of the Israelites.  This was grave matter; the
words of such a practical man as Mohammed Damoor were not to be
despised.  I fear I must have smiled visibly, for I was greatly
amused and even, I think, gratified at the account of this second
prophecy.  Nevertheless, my heart warmed towards the poor oppressed
Israelites, and I was flattered, too, in the point of my national
vanity at the notion of the far-reaching link by which a Jew in
Syria, who had been born on the rock of Gibraltar, was able to
claim me as his fellow-countryman.  If I hesitated at all between
the "impropriety" of interfering in a matter which was no business
of mine and the "infernal shame" of refusing my aid at such a
conjecture, I soon came to a very ungentlemanly decision, namely,
that I would be guilty of the "impropriety," and not of the
"infernal shame."  It seemed to me that the immediate arrest of
Mohammed Damoor was the one thing needful to the safety of the
Jews, and I felt confident (for reasons which I have already
mentioned in speaking of the Nablus affair) that I should be able
to obtain this result by making a formal application to the
Governor.  I told my applicants that I would take this step on the
following morning.  They were very grateful, and were, for a
moment, much pleased at the prospect of safety which might thus be
opened to them, but the deliberation of a minute entirely altered
their views, and filled them with new terror.  They declared that
any attempt, or pretended attempt, on the part of the Governor to
arrest Mohammed Damoor would certainly produce an immediate
movement of the whole Mussulman population, and a consequent
massacre and robbery of the Israelites.  My visitors went out, and
remained I know not how long consulting with their brethren, but
all at last agreed that their present perilous and painful position
was better than a certain and immediate attack, and that if
Mohammed Damoor was seized, their second estate would be worse than
their first.  I myself did not think that this would be the case,
but I could not of course force my aid upon the people against
their will; and, moreover, the day fixed for the fulfilment of this
second prophecy was not very close at hand.  A little delay,
therefore, in providing against the impending danger would not
necessarily be fatal.  The men now confessed that although they had
come with so much mystery and, as they thought, at so great a risk
to ask my assistance, they were unable to suggest any mode in which
I could aid them, except indeed by mentioning their grievances to
the consul-general at Damascus.  This I promised to do, and this I
did.

My visitors were very thankful to me for the readiness which I had
shown to intermeddle in their affairs, and the grateful wives of
the principal Jews sent to me many compliments, with choice wines
and elaborate sweetmeats.

The course of my travels soon drew me so far from Safed, that I
never heard how the dreadful day passed off which had been fixed
for the accomplishment of the second prophecy.  If the predicted
spoliation was prevented, poor Mohammed Damoor must have been
forced, I suppose, to say that he had prophesied in a metaphorical
sense.  This would be a sad falling off from the brilliant and
substantial success of the first experiment.



CHAPTER XXVII--DAMASCUS



For a part of two days I wound under the base of the snow-crowned
Djibel el Sheik, and then entered upon a vast and desolate plain,
rarely pierced at intervals by some sort of withered stem.  The
earth in its length and its breadth and all the deep universe of
sky was steeped in light and heat.  On I rode through the fire, but
long before evening came there were straining eyes that saw, and
joyful voices that announced, the sight of Shaum Shereef--the
"holy," the "blessed" Damascus.

But that which at last I reached with my longing eyes was not a
speck in the horizon, gradually expanding to a group of roofs and
walls, but a long, low line of blackest green, that ran right
across in the distance from east to west.  And this, as I
approached, grew deeper, grew wavy in its outline.  Soon forest
trees shot up before my eyes, and robed their broad shoulders so
freshly, that all the throngs of olives as they rose into view
looked sad in their proper dimness.  There were even now no houses
to see, but only the minarets peered out from the midst of shade
into the glowing sky, and bravely touched the sun.  There seemed to
be here no mere city, but rather a province wide and rich, that
bounded the torrid waste.

Until about a year, or two years, before the time of my going there
Damascus had kept up so much of the old bigot zeal against
Christians, or rather, against Europeans, that no one dressed as a
Frank could have dared to show himself in the streets; but the
firmness and temper of Mr. Farren, who hoisted his flag in the city
as consul-general for the district, had soon put an end to all
intolerance of Englishmen.  Damascus was safer than Oxford. {44}
When I entered the city in my usual dress there was but one poor
fellow that wagged his tongue, and him, in the open streets,
Dthemetri horsewhipped.  During my stay I went wherever I chose,
and attended the public baths without molestation.  Indeed, my
relations with the pleasanter portion of the Mahometan population
were upon a much better footing here than at most other places.

In the principal streets of Damascus there is a path for foot-
passengers, which is raised, I think, a foot or two above the
bridle-road.  Until the arrival of the British consul-general none
but a Mussulman had been permitted to walk upon the upper way.  Mr.
Farren would not, of course, suffer that the humiliation of any
such exclusion should be submitted to by an Englishman, and I
always walked upon the raised path as free and unmolested as if I
had been in Pall Mall.  The old usage was, however, maintained with
as much strictness as ever against the Christian Rayahs and Jews:
not one of them could have set his foot upon the privileged path
without endangering his life.

I was lounging one day, I remember, along "the paths of the
faithful," when a Christian Rayah from the bridle-road below
saluted me with such earnestness, and craved so anxiously to speak
and be spoken to, that he soon brought me to a halt.  He had
nothing to tell, except only the glory and exultation with which he
saw a fellow-Christian stand level with the imperious Mussulmans.
Perhaps he had been absent from the place for some time, for
otherwise I hardly know how it could have happened that my
exaltation was the first instance he had seen.  His joy was great.
So strong and strenuous was England (Lord Palmerston reigned in
those days), that it was a pride and delight for a Syrian Christian
to look up and say that the Englishman's faith was his too.  If I
was vexed at all that I could not give the man a lift and shake
hands with him on level ground, there was no alloy to his pleasure.
He followed me on, not looking to his own path, but keeping his
eyes on me.  He saw, as he thought, and said (for he came with me
on to my quarters), the period of the Mahometan's absolute
ascendency, the beginning of the Christian's.  He had so closely
associated the insulting privilege of the path with actual
dominion, that seeing it now in one instance abandoned, he looked
for the quick coming of European troops.  His lips only whispered,
and that tremulously, but his fiery eyes spoke out their triumph in
long and loud hurrahs:  "I, too, am a Christian.  My foes are the
foes of the English.  We are all one people, and Christ is our
King."

If I poorly deserved, yet I liked this claim of brotherhood.  Not
all the warnings which I heard against their rascality could hinder
me from feeling kindly towards my fellow-Christians in the East.
English travellers, from a habit perhaps of depreciating sectarians
in their own country, are apt to look down upon the Oriental
Christians as being "dissenters" from the established religion of a
Mahometan empire.  I never did thus.  By a natural perversity of
disposition, which my nursemaids called contrariness, I felt the
more strongly for my creed when I saw it despised among men.  I
quite tolerated the Christianity of Mahometan countries,
notwithstanding its humble aspect and the damaged character of its
followers.  I went further and extended some sympathy towards those
who, with all the claims of superior intellect, learning, and
industry, were kept down under the heel of the Mussulmans by reason
of their having OUR faith.  I heard, as I fancied, the faint echo
of an old crusader's conscience, that whispered and said, "Common
cause!"  The impulse was, as you may suppose, much too feeble to
bring me into trouble; it merely influenced my actions in a way
thoroughly characteristic of this poor sluggish century, that is,
by making me speak almost as civilly to the followers of Christ as
I did to their Mahometan foes.

This "holy" Damascus, this "earthly paradise" of the Prophet, so
fair to the eyes that he dared not trust himself to tarry in her
blissful shades, she is a city of hidden palaces, of copses and
gardens, and fountains and bubbling streams.  The juice of her life
is the gushing and ice-cold torrent that tumbles from the snowy
sides of Anti-Lebanon.  Close along on the river's edge, through
seven sweet miles of rustling boughs and deepest shade, the city
spreads out her whole length.  As a man falls flat, face forward on
the brook, that he may drink and drink again, so Damascus,
thirsting for ever, lies down with her lips to the stream and
clings to its rushing waters.

The chief places of public amusement, or rather, of public
relaxation, are the baths and the great cafe; this last, which is
frequented at night by most of the wealthy men, and by many of the
humbler sort, consists of a number of sheds, very simply framed and
built in a labyrinth of running streams, which foam and roar on
every side.  The place is lit up in the simplest manner by numbers
of small pale lamps strung upon loose cords, and so suspended from
branch to branch, that the light, though it looks so quiet amongst
the darkening foliage, yet leaps and brightly flashes as it falls
upon the troubled waters.  All around, and chiefly upon the very
edge of the torrents, groups of people are tranquilly seated.  They
all drink coffee, and inhale the cold fumes of the narghile; they
talk rather gently the one to the other, or else are silent.  A
father will sometimes have two or three of his boys around him; but
the joyousness of an Oriental child is all of the sober sort, and
never disturbs the reigning calm of the land.

It has been generally understood, I believe, that the houses of
Damascus are more sumptuous than those of any other city in the
East.  Some of these, said to be the most magnificent in the place,
I had an opportunity of seeing.

Every rich man's house stands detached from its neighbours at the
side of a garden, and it is from this cause no doubt that the city
(severely menaced by prophecy) has hitherto escaped destruction.
You know some parts of Spain, but you have never, I think, been in
Andalusia:  if you had, I could easily show you the interior of a
Damascene house by referring you to the Alhambra or Alcanzar of
Seville.  The lofty rooms are adorned with a rich inlaying of many
colours and illuminated writing on the walls.  The floors are of
marble.  One side of any room intended for noonday retirement is
generally laid open to a quadrangle, in the centre of which there
dances the jet of a fountain.  There is no furniture that can
interfere with the cool, palace-like emptiness of the apartments.
A divan (which is a low and doubly broad sofa) runs round the three
walled sides of the room.  A few Persian carpets (which ought to be
called Persian rugs, for that is the word which indicates their
shape and dimensions) are sometimes thrown about near the divan;
they are placed without order, the one partly lapping over the
other, and thus disposed, they give to the room an appearance of
uncaring luxury; except these (of which I saw few, for the time was
summer, and fiercely hot), there is nothing to obstruct the welcome
air, and the whole of the marble floor from one divan to the other,
and from the head of the chamber across to the murmuring fountain,
is thoroughly open and free.

So simple as this is Asiatic luxury!  The Oriental is not a
contriving animal; there is nothing intricate in his magnificence.
The impossibility of handing down property from father to son for
any long period consecutively seems to prevent the existence of
those traditions by which, with us, the refined modes of applying
wealth are made known to its inheritors.  We know that in England a
newly-made rich man cannot, by taking thought and spending money,
obtain even the same-looking furniture as a gentleman.  The
complicated character of an English establishment allows room for
subtle distinctions between that which is comme il faut, and that
which is not.  All such refinements are unknown in the East; the
Pasha and the peasant have the same tastes.  The broad cold marble
floor, the simple couch, the air freshly waving through a shady
chamber, a verse of the Koran emblazoned on the wall, the sight and
the sound of falling water, the cold fragrant smoke of the
narghile, and a small collection of wives and children in the inner
apartments--these, the utmost enjoyments of the grandee, are yet
such as to be appreciable by the humblest Mussulman in the empire.

But its gardens are the delight, the delight and the pride of
Damascus.  They are not the formal parterres which you might expect
from the Oriental taste; they rather bring back to your mind the
memory of some dark old shrubbery in our northern isle, that has
been charmingly un--"kept up" for many and many a day.  When you
see a rich wilderness of wood in decent England, it is like enough
that you see it with some soft regrets.  The puzzled old woman at
the lodge can give small account of "the family."  She thinks it is
"Italy" that has made the whole circle of her world so gloomy and
sad.  You avoid the house in lively dread of a lone housekeeper,
but you make your way on by the stables; you remember that gable
with all its neatly nailed trophies of fitchets and hawks and owls,
now slowly falling to pieces; you remember that stable, and that--
but the doors are all fastened that used to be standing ajar, the
paint of things painted is blistered and cracked, grass grows in
the yard; just there, in October mornings, the keeper would wait
with the dogs and the guns--no keeper now; you hurry away, and gain
the small wicket that used to open to the touch of a lightsome
hand--it is fastened with a padlock (the only new looking thing),
and is stained with thick, green damp; you climb it, and bury
yourself in the deep shade, and strive but lazily with the tangling
briars, and stop for long minutes to judge and determine whether
you will creep beneath the long boughs and make them your archway,
or whether perhaps you will lift your heel and tread them down
under foot.  Long doubt, and scarcely to be ended till you wake
from the memory of those days when the path was clear, and chase
that phantom of a muslin sleeve that once weighed warm upon your
arm.

Wild as that, the nighest woodland of a deserted home in England,
but without its sweet sadness, is the sumptuous garden of Damascus.
Forest trees, tall and stately enough if you could see their lofty
crests, yet lead a tussling life of it below, with their branches
struggling against strong numbers of bushes and wilful shrubs.  The
shade upon the earth is black as night.  High, high above your
head, and on every side all down to the ground, the thicket is
hemmed in and choked up by the interlacing boughs that droop with
the weight of roses, and load the slow air with their damask
breath. {45}  There are no other flowers.  Here and there, there
are patches of ground made clear from the cover, and these are
either carelessly planted with some common and useful vegetable, or
else are left free to the wayward ways of Nature, and bear rank
weeds, moist-looking and cool to the eyes, and freshening the sense
with their earthy and bitter fragrance.  There is a lane opened
through the thicket, so broad in some places that you can pass
along side by side; in some so narrow (the shrubs are for ever
encroaching) that you ought, if you can, to go on the first and
hold back the bough of the rose-tree.  And through this wilderness
there tumbles a loud rushing stream, which is halted at last in the
lowest corner of the garden, and there tossed up in a fountain by
the side of the simple alcove.  This is all.

Never for an instant will the people of Damascus attempt to
separate the idea of bliss from these wild gardens and rushing
waters.  Even where your best affections are concerned, and you,
prudent preachers, "hold hard" and turn aside when they come near
the mysteries of the happy state, and we (prudent preachers too),
we will hush our voices, and never reveal to finite beings the joys
of the "earthly paradise."



CHAPTER XXVIII--PASS OF THE LEBANON



"The ruins of Baalbec!"  Shall I scatter the vague, solemn thoughts
and all the airy phantasies which gather together when once those
words are spoken, that I may give you instead tall columns and
measurements true, and phrases built with ink?  No, no; the
glorious sounds shall still float on as of yore, and still hold
fast upon your brain with their own dim and infinite meaning.

Come!  Baalbec is over; I got "rather well" out of that.

The path by which I crossed the Lebanon is like, I think, in its
features to one which you must know, namely, that of the Foorca in
the Bernese Oberland.  For a great part of the way I toiled rather
painfully through the dazzling snow, but the labour of ascending
added to the excitement with which I looked for the summit of the
pass.  The time came.  There was a minute in the which I saw
nothing but the steep, white shoulder of the mountain, and there
was another minute, and that the next, which showed me a nether
heaven of fleecy clouds that floated along far down in the air
beneath me, and showed me beyond the breadth of all Syria west of
the Lebanon.  But chiefly I clung with my eyes to the dim,
steadfast line of the sea which closed my utmost view.  I had grown
well used of late to the people and the scenes of forlorn Asia--
well used to tombs and ruins, to silent cities and deserted plains,
to tranquil men and women sadly veiled; and now that I saw the even
plain of the sea, I leapt with an easy leap to its yonder shores,
and saw all the kingdoms of the West in that fair path that could
lead me from out of this silent land straight on into shrill
Marseilles, or round by the pillars of Hercules to the crash and
roar of London.  My place upon this dividing barrier was as a man's
puzzling station in eternity, between the birthless past and the
future that has no end.  Behind me I left an old, decrepit world;
religions dead and dying; calm tyrannies expiring in silence; women
hushed and swathed, and turned into waxen dolls; love flown, and in
its stead mere royal and "paradise" pleasures.  Before me there
waited glad bustle and strife; love itself, an emulous game;
religion, a cause and a controversy, well smitten and well
defended; men governed by reasons and suasion of speech; wheels
going, steam buzzing--a mortal race, and a slashing pace, and the
devil taking the hindmost--taking ME, by Jove (for that was my
inner care), if I lingered too long upon the difficult pass that
leads from thought to action.

I descended and went towards the west.

The group of cedars remaining on this part of the Lebanon is held
sacred by the Greek Church on account of a prevailing notion that
the trees were standing at a time when the temple of Jerusalem was
built.  They occupy three or four acres on the mountain's side, and
many of them are gnarled in a way that implies great age, but
except these signs I saw nothing in their appearance or conduct
that tended to prove them contemporaries of the cedars employed in
Solomon's Temple.  The final cause to which these aged survivors
owed their preservation was explained to me in the evening by a
glorious old fellow (a Christian chief), who made me welcome in the
valley of Eden.  In ancient times the whole range of the Lebanon
had been covered with cedars, and as the fertile plains beneath
became more and more infested by government officers and tyrants of
high and low degree, the people by degrees abandoned them and
flocked to the rugged mountains, which were less accessible to
their indolent oppressors.  The cedar forests gradually shrank
under the axe of the encroaching multitudes, and seemed at last to
be on the point of disappearing entirely, when an aged chief who
ruled in this district, and who had witnessed the great change
effected even in his own lifetime, chose to say that some sign or
memorial should be left of the vast woods with which the mountains
had formerly been clad, and commanded accordingly that this group
of trees (which was probably situated at the highest point to which
the forest had reached) should remain untouched.  The chief, it
seems, was not moved by the notion I have mentioned as prevailing
in the Greek Church, but rather by some sentiment of veneration for
a great natural feature--sentiment akin, perhaps, to that old and
earthborn religion, which made men bow down to creation before they
had yet learnt how to know and worship the Creator.

The chief of the valley in which I passed the night was a man of
large possessions, and he entertained me very sumptuously.  He was
highly intelligent, and had had the sagacity to foresee that Europe
would intervene authoritatively in the affairs of Syria.  Bearing
this idea in mind, and with a view to give his son an advantageous
start in the ambitious career for which he was destined, he had
hired for him a teacher of the Italian language, the only
accessible European tongue.  The tutor, however, who was a native
of Syria, either did not know or did not choose to teach the
European forms of address, but contented himself with instructing
his pupil in the mere language of Italy.  This circumstance gave me
an opportunity (the only one I ever had, or was likely to have
{46}) of hearing the phrases of Oriental courtesy in an European
tongue.  The boy was about twelve or thirteen years old, and having
the advantage of being able to speak to me without the aid of an
interpreter, he took a prominent part in doing the honours of his
father's house.  He went through his duties with untiring
assiduity, and with a kind of gracefulness, which by mere
description can scarcely be made intelligible to those who are
unacquainted with the manners of the Asiatics.  The boy's address
resembled a little that of a highly polished and insinuating Roman
Catholic priest, but had more of girlish gentleness.  It was
strange to hear him gravely and slowly enunciating the common and
extravagant compliments of the East in good Italian, and in soft,
persuasive tones.  I recollect that I was particularly amused at
the gracious obstinacy with which he maintained that the house in
which I was so hospitably entertained belonged not to his father,
but to me.  To say this once was only to use the common form of
speech, signifying no more than our sweet word "welcome," but the
amusing part of the matter was that, whenever in the course of
conversation I happened to speak of his father's house or the
surrounding domain, the boy invariably interfered to correct my
pretended mistake, and to assure me once again with a gentle
decisiveness of manner that the whole property was really and
exclusively mine, and that his father had not the most distant
pretensions to its ownership.

I received from my host much, and (as I now know) most true,
information respecting the people of the mountains, and their power
of resisting Mehemet Ali.  The chief gave me very plainly to
understand that the mountaineers, being dependent upon others for
bread and gunpowder (the two great necessaries of martial life),
could not long hold out against a power which occupied the plains
and commanded the sea; but he also assured me, and that very
significantly, that if this source of weakness were provided
against, THE MOUNTAINEERS WERE TO BE DEPENDED UPON; he told me that
in ten or fifteen days the chiefs could bring together some fifty
thousand fighting men.



CHAPTER XXIX--SURPRISE OF SATALIEH



Whilst I was remaining upon the coast of Syria I had the good
fortune to become acquainted with the Russian Sataliefsky, {47} a
general officer, who in his youth had fought and bled at Borodino,
but was now better known among diplomats by the important trust
committed to him at a period highly critical for the affairs of
Eastern Europe.  I must not tell you his family name; my mention of
his title can do him no harm, for it is I, and I only, who have
conferred it, in consideration of the military and diplomatic
services performed under my own eyes.

The General as well as I was bound for Smyrna, and we agreed to
sail together in an Ionian brigantine.  We did not charter the
vessel, but we made our arrangement with the captain upon such
terms that we could be put ashore upon any part of the coast that
we might choose.  We sailed, and day after day the vessel lay
dawdling on the sea with calms and feeble breezes for her portion.
I myself was well repaid for the painful restlessness which such
weather occasions, because I gained from my companion a little of
that vast fund of interesting knowledge with which he was stored,
knowledge a thousand times the more highly to be prized since it
was not of the sort that is to be gathered from books, but only
from the lips of those who have acted a part in the world.

When after nine days of sailing, or trying to sail, we found
ourselves still hanging by the mainland to the north of the isle of
Cyprus, we determined to disembark at Satalieh, and to go on thence
by land.  A light breeze favoured our purpose, and it was with
great delight that we neared the fragrant land, and saw our anchor
go down in the bay of Satalieh, within two or three hundred yards
of the shore.

The town of Satalieh {48} is the chief place of the Pashalic in
which it is situate, and its citadel is the residence of the Pasha.
We had scarcely dropped our anchor when a boat from the shore came
alongside with officers on board, who announced that the strictest
orders had been received for maintaining a quarantine of three
weeks against all vessels coming from Syria, and directed
accordingly that no one from the vessel should disembark.  In reply
we sent a message to the Pasha, setting forth the rank and titles
of the General, and requiring permission to go ashore.  After a
while the boat came again alongside, and the officers declaring
that the orders received from Constantinople were imperative and
unexceptional, formally enjoined us in the name of the Pasha to
abstain from any attempt to land.

I had been hitherto much less impatient of our slow voyage than my
gallant friend, but this opposition made the smooth sea seem to me
like a prison, from which I must and would break out.  I had an
unbounded faith in the feebleness of Asiatic potentates, and I
proposed that we should set the Pasha at defiance.  The General had
been worked up to a state of most painful agitation by the idea of
being driven from the shore which smiled so pleasantly before his
eyes, and he adopted my suggestion with rapture.

We determined to land.

To approach the sweet shore after a tedious voyage, and then to be
suddenly and unexpectedly prohibited from landing--this is so
maddening to the temper, that no one who had ever experienced the
trial would say that even the most violent impatience of such
restraint is wholly inexcusable.  I am not going to pretend,
however, that the course which we chose to adopt on the occasion
can be perfectly justified.  The impropriety of a traveller's
setting at naught the regulations of a foreign State is clear
enough, and the bad taste of compassing such a purpose by mere
gasconading is still more glaringly plain.  I knew perfectly well
that if the Pasha understood his duty, and had energy enough to
perform it, he would order out a file of soldiers the moment we
landed, and cause us both to be shot upon the beach, without
allowing more contact than might be absolutely necessary for the
purpose of making us stand fire; but I also firmly believed that
the Pasha would not see the befitting line of conduct nearly so
well as I did, and that even if he did know his duty, he would
hardly succeed in finding resolution enough to perform it.

We ordered the boat to be got in readiness, and the officers on
shore seeing these preparations, gathered together a number of
guards, who assembled upon the sands.  We saw that great excitement
prevailed, and that messengers were continually going to and fro
between the shore and the citadel.  Our captain, out of compliment
to his Excellency, had provided the vessel with a Russian war-flag,
which he had hoisted alternately with the Union Jack, and we agreed
that we would attempt our disembarkation under this, the Russian
standard!  I was glad when we came to that resolution, for I should
have been sorry to engage the honoured flag of England in such an
affair as that which we were undertaking.  The Russian ensign was
therefore committed to one of the sailors, who took his station at
the stern of the boat.  We gave particular instructions to the
captain of the brigantine, and when all was ready, the General and
I, with our respective servants, got into the boat, and were slowly
rowed towards the shore.  The guards gathered together at the point
for which we were making, but when they saw that our boat went on
without altering her course, THEY CEASED TO STAND VERY STILL; none
of them ran away, or even shrank back, but they looked as if THE
PACK WERE BEING SHUFFLED, every man seeming desirous to change
places with his neighbour.  They were still at their post, however,
when our oars went in, and the bow of our boat ran up--well up upon
the beach.

The General was lame by an honourable wound received at Borodino,
and could not without some assistance get out of the boat; I,
therefore, landed the first.  My instructions to the captain were
attended to with the most perfect accuracy, for scarcely had my
foot indented the sand when the four six-pounders of the brigantine
quite gravely rolled out their brute thunder.  Precisely as I had
expected, the guards and all the people who had gathered about them
gave way under the shock produced by the mere sound of guns, and we
were all allowed to disembark with the least molestation.

We immediately formed a little column, or rather, as I should have
called it, a procession, for we had no fighting aptitude in us, and
were only trying, as it were, how far we could go in frightening
full-grown children.  First marched the sailor with the Russian
flag of war bravely flying in the breeze, then came the general and
I, then our servants, and lastly, if I rightly recollect, two more
of the brigantine's crew.  Our flag-bearer so exulted in his
honourable office, and bore the colours aloft with so much of pomp
and dignity, that I found it exceedingly hard to keep a grave
countenance.  We advanced towards the castle, but the people had
now had time to recover from the effect of the six-pounders (only
of course loaded with powder), and they could not help seeing not
only the numerical weakness of our party, but the very slight
amount of wealth and resource which it seemed to imply.  They began
to hang round us more closely, and just as this reaction was
beginning the General, who was perfectly unacquainted with the
Asiatic character, thoughtlessly turned round in order to speak to
one of the servants.  The effect of this slight move was magical.
The people thought we were going to give way, and instantly closed
round us.  In two words, and with one touch, I showed my comrade
the danger he was running, and in the next instant we were both
advancing more pompously than ever.  Some minutes afterwards there
was a second appearance of reaction, followed again by wavering and
indecision on the part of the Pasha's people, but at length it
seemed to be understood that we should go unmolested into the
audience hall.

Constant communication had been going on between the receding crowd
and the Pasha, and so when we reached the gates of the citadel we
saw that preparations were made for giving us an awe-striking
reception.  Parting at once from the sailors and our servants, the
General and I were conducted into the audience hall; and there at
least I suppose the Pasha hoped that he would confound us by his
greatness.  The hall was nothing more than a large whitewashed
room.  Oriental potentates have a pride in that sort of simplicity,
when they can contrast it with the exhibition of power, and this
the Pasha was able to do, for the lower end of the hall was filled
with his officers.  These men, of whom I thought there were about
fifty or sixty, were all handsomely, though plainly, dressed in the
military frockcoats of Europe; they stood in mass and so as to
present a hollow semicircular front towards the upper end of the
hall at which the Pasha sat; they opened a narrow lane for us when
we entered, and as soon as we had passed they again closed up their
ranks.  An attempt was made to induce us to remain at a respectful
distance from his mightiness.  To have yielded in this point would
have have been fatal to our success, perhaps to our lives; but the
General and I had already determined upon the place which we should
take, and we rudely pushed on towards the upper end of the hall.

Upon the divan, and close up against the right hand corner of the
room, there sat the Pasha, his limbs gathered in, the whole
creature coiled up like an adder.  His cheeks were deadly pale, and
his lips perhaps had turned white, for without moving a muscle the
man impressed me with an immense idea of the wrath within him.  He
kept his eyes inexorably fixed as if upon vacancy, and with the
look of a man accustomed to refuse the prayers of those who sue for
life.  We soon discomposed him, however, from this studied fixity
of feature, for we marched straight up to the divan and sat down,
the Russian close to the Pasha, and I by the side of the Russian.
This act astonished the attendants, and plainly disconcerted the
Pasha.  He could no longer maintain the glassy stillness of the
eyes which he had affected, and evidently became much agitated.  At
the feet of the satrap there stood a trembling Italian.

This man was a sort of medico in the potentate's service, and now
in the absence of our attendants he was to act as interpreter.  The
Pasha caused him to tell us that we had openly defied his
authority, and had forced our way on shore in the teeth of his own
officers.

Up to this time I had been the planner of the enterprise, but now
that the moment had come when all would depend upon able and
earnest speechifying, I felt at once the immense superiority of my
gallant friend, and gladly left to him the whole conduct of this
discussion.  Indeed he had vast advantages over me, not only by his
superior command of language and his far more spirited style of
address, but also in his consciousness of a good cause; for whilst
I felt myself completely in the wrong, his Excellency had really
worked himself up to believe that the Pasha's refusal to permit our
landing was a gross outrage and insult.  Therefore, without
deigning to defend our conduct he at once commenced a spirited
attack upon the Pasha.  The poor Italian doctor translated one or
two sentences to the Pasha, but he evidently mitigated their
import.  The Russian, growing warm, insisted upon his attack with
redoubled energy and spirit; but the medico, instead of
translating, began to shake violently with terror, and at last he
came out with his non ardisco, and fairly confessed that he dared
not interpret fierce words to his master.

Now then, at a time when everything seemed to depend upon the
effect of speech, we were left without an interpreter.

But this very circumstance, which at first appeared so
unfavourable, turned out to be advantageous.  The General, finding
that he could not have his words translated, ceased to speak in
Italian, and recurred to his accustomed French; he became eloquent.
No one present except myself understood one syllable of what he was
saying, but he had drawn forth his passport, and the energy and
violence with which, as he spoke, he pointed to the graven Eagle of
all the Russias, began to make an impression.  The Pasha saw at his
side a man not only free from every the least pang of fear, but
raging, as it seemed, with just indignation, and thenceforward he
plainly began to think that, in some way or other (he could not
tell how) he must certainly have been in the wrong.  In a little
time he was so much shaken that the Italian ventured to resume his
interpretation, and my comrade had again the opportunity of
pressing his attack upon the Pasha.  His argument, if I rightly
recollect its import, was to this effect:  "If the vilest Jews were
to come into the harbour, you would but forbid them to land, and
force them to perform quarantine; yet this is the very course, O
Pasha, which your rash officers dared to think of adopting with
US!--those mad and reckless men would have actually dealt towards a
Russian general officer and an English gentleman as if they had
been wretched Israelites!  Never--never will we submit to such an
indignity.  His Imperial Majesty knows how to protect his nobles
from insult, and would never endure that a General of his army
should be treated in matter of quarantine as though he were a mere
Eastern Jew!"  This argument told with great effect.  The Pasha
fairly admitted that he felt its weight, and he now only struggled
to obtain such a compromise as might partly save his dignity.  He
wanted us to perform a quarantine of one day for form's sake, and
in order to show his people that he was not utterly defied; but
finding that we were inexorable, he not only abandoned his attempt,
but promised to supply us with horses.

When the discussion had arrived at this happy conclusion
tchibouques and coffee were brought, and we passed, I think, nearly
an hour in friendly conversation.  The Pasha, it now appeared, had
once been a prisoner of war in Russia, and a conviction of the
Emperor's vast power, necessarily acquired during this captivity,
made him perhaps more alive than an untravelled Turk would have
been to the force of my comrade's eloquence.

The Pasha now gave us a generous feast.  Our promised horses were
brought without much delay.  I gained my loved saddle once more,
and when the moon got up and touched the heights of Taurus, we were
joyfully winding our way through the first of his rugged defiles.



APPENDIX--THE HOME OF LADY HESTER STANHOPE



It was late when we came in sight of two high conical hills, on one
of which stands the village of Djouni, on the other a circular
wall, over which dark trees were waving; and this was the place in
which Lady Hester Stanhope had finished her strange and eventful
career.  It had formerly been a convent, but the Pasha of Sidon had
given it to the "prophet-lady," who converted its naked walls into
a palace, and its wilderness into gardens.

The sun was setting as we entered the enclosure, and we were soon
scattered about the outer court, picketing our horses, rubbing down
their foaming flanks, and washing out their wounds.  The buildings
that constituted the palace were of a very scattered and
complicated description, covering a wide space, but only one storey
in height:  courts and gardens, stables and sleeping-rooms, halls
of audience and ladies' bowers, were strangely intermingled.  Heavy
weeds were growing everywhere among the open portals, and we forced
our way with difficulty through a tangle of roses and jasmine to
the inner court; here choice flowers once bloomed, and fountains
played in marble basins, but now was presented a scene of the most
melancholy desolation.  As the watchfire blazed up, its gleam fell
upon masses of honeysuckle and woodbine, on white, mouldering walls
beneath, and dark, waving trees above; while the group of
mountaineers who gathered round its light, with their long beards
and vivid dresses, completed the strange picture.

The clang of sword and spear resounded through the long galleries;
horses neighed among bowers and boudoirs; strange figures hurried
to and fro among the colonnades, shouting in Arabic, English, and
Italian; the fire crackled, the startled bats flapped their heavy
wings, and the growl of distant thunder filled up the pauses in the
rough symphony.

Our dinner was spread on the floor in Lady Hester's favourite
apartment; her deathbed was our sideboard, her furniture our fuel,
her name our conversation.  Almost before the meal was ended two of
our party had dropped asleep over their trenchers from fatigue; the
Druses had retired from the haunted precincts to their village; and
W-, L-, and I went out into the garden to smoke our pipes by Lady
Hester's lonely tomb.  About midnight we fell asleep upon the
ground, wrapped in our capotes, and dreamed of ladies and tombs and
prophets till the neighing of our horses announced the dawn.

After a hurried breakfast on fragments of the last night's repast
we strolled out over the extensive gardens.  Here many a broken
arbour and trellis, bending under masses of jasmine and
honeysuckle, show the care and taste that were once lavished on
this wild but beautiful hermitage:  a garden-house, surrounded by
an enclosure of roses run wild, lies in the midst of a grove of
myrtle and bay trees.  This was Lady Hester's favourite resort
during her lifetime; and now, within its silent enclosure,


"After life's fitful fever she sleeps well."


The hand of ruin has dealt very sparingly with all these
interesting relics; the Pasha's power by day, and the fear of
spirits by night, keep off marauders; and though we made free with
broken benches and fallen doorposts for fuel, we reverently
abstained from displacing anything in the establishment except a
few roses, which there was no living thing but bees and
nightingales to regret.  It was one of the most striking and
interesting spots I ever witnessed:  its silence and beauty, its
richness and desolation, lent to it a touching and mysterious
character, that suited well the memory of that strange hermit-lady
who has made it a place of pilgrimage, even in Palestine. {49}

The Pasha of Sidon presented Lady Hester with the deserted convent
of Mar Elias on her arrival in his country, and this she soon
converted into a fortress, garrisoned by a band of Albanians:  her
only attendants besides were her doctor, her secretary, and some
female slaves.  Public rumour soon busied itself with such a
personage, and exaggerated her influence and power.  It is even
said that she was crowned Queen of the East at Palmyra by fifty
thousand Arabs.  She certainly exercised almost despotic power in
her neighbourhood on the mountain; and what was perhaps the most
remarkable proof of her talents, she prevailed on some Jews to
advance large sums of money to her on her note of hand.  She lived
for many years, beset with difficulties and anxieties, but to the
last she held on gallantly:  even when confined to her bed and
dying she sought for no companionship or comfort but such as she
could find in her own powerful, though unmanageable, mind.

Mr. Moore, our consul at Beyrout, hearing she was ill, rode over
the mountains to visit her, accompanied by Mr. Thomson, the
American missionary.  It was evening when they arrived, and a
profound silence was over all the palace.  No one met them; they
lighted their own lamps in the outer court, and passed unquestioned
through court and gallery until they came to where SHE lay.  A
corpse was the only inhabitant of the palace, and the isolation
from her kind which she had sought so long was indeed complete.
That morning thirty-seven servants had watched every motion of her
eye:  its spell once darkened by death, every one fled with such
plunder as they could secure.  A little girl, adopted by her and
maintained for years, took her watch and some papers on which she
had set peculiar value.  Neither the child nor the property were
ever seen again.  Not a single thing was left in the room where she
lay dead, except the ornaments upon her person.  No one had
ventured to touch these; even in death she seemed able to protect
herself.  At midnight her countryman and the missionary carried her
out by torchlight to a spot in the garden that had been formerly
her favourite resort, and here they buried the self-exiled lady.--
From "THE CRESCENT AND THE CROSS," by Eliot Warburton.



Footnotes:

{1}  A "compromised" person is one who has been in contact with
people or things supposed to be capable of conveying infection.  As
a general rule the whole Ottoman Empire lies constantly under this
terrible ban.  The "yellow flag" is the ensign of the quarantine
establishment.

{2}  The narghile is a water-pipe upon the plan of the hookah, but
more gracefully fashioned; the smoke is drawn by a very long
flexible tube, that winds its snake-like way from the vase to the
lips of the beatified smoker.

{3}  That is, if he stands up at all.  Oriental etiquette would not
warrant his rising, unless his visitor were supposed to be at least
his equal in point of rank and station.

{4}  The continual marriages of these people with the chosen
beauties of Georgia and Circassia have overpowered the original
ugliness of their Tatar ancestors.

{5}  There is almost always a breeze either from the Marmora or
from the Black Sea, that passes along the course of the Bosphorus.

{6}  The yashmak, you know, is not a mere semi-transparent veil,
but rather a good substantial petticoat applied to the face; it
thoroughly conceals all the features, except the eyes; the way of
withdrawing it is by pulling it down.

{7}  The "pipe of tranquillity" is a tchibouque too long to be
conveniently carried on a journey; the possession of it therefore
implies that its owner is stationary, or at all events, that he is
enjoying a long repose from travel.

{8}  The Jews of Smyrna are poor, and having little merchandise of
their own to dispose of, they are sadly importunate in offering
their services as intermediaries:  their troublesome conduct has
led to the custom of beating them in the open streets.  It is usual
for Europeans to carry long sticks with them, for the express
purpose of keeping off the chosen people.  I always felt ashamed to
strike the poor fellows myself, but I confess to the amusement with
which I witnessed the observance of this custom by other people.
The Jew seldom got hurt much, for he was always expecting the blow,
and was ready to recede from it the moment it came:  one could not
help being rather gratified at seeing him bound away so nimbly,
with his long robes floating out in the air, and then again wheel
round, and return with fresh importunities.

{9}  Marriages in the East are arranged by professed match-makers;
many of these, I believe, are Jewesses.

{10}  A Greek woman wears her whole fortune upon her person in the
shape of jewels or gold coins; I believe that this mode of
investment is adopted in great measure for safety's sake.  It has
the advantage of enabling a suitor to RECKON as well as to admire
the objects of his affection.

{11}  St. Nicholas is the great patron of Greek sailors.  A small
picture of him enclosed in a glass case is hung up like a barometer
at one end of the cabin.

{12}  Hanmer.

{13}  ". . . ubi templum illi, centumque Sabaeo
Thure calent arae, sertisque recentibus halant."
- Aeneid, i, 415.

{14}  The writer advises that none should attempt to read the
following account of the late Lady Hester Stanhope except those who
may already chance to feel an interest in the personage to whom it
relates.  The chapter (which has been written and printed for the
reasons mentioned in the preface) is chiefly filled with the
detailed conversation, or rather discourse, of a highly eccentric
gentlewoman.

{15}  Historically "fainting"; the death did not occur until long
afterwards.

{16}  I am told that in youth she was exceedingly sallow.

{17}  This was my impression at the time of writing the above
passage, an impression created by the popular and uncontradicted
accounts of the matter, as well as by the tenor of Lady Hester's
conversation.  I have now some reason to think that I was deceived,
and that her sway in the desert was much more limited than I had
supposed.  She seems to have had from the Bedouins a fair five
hundred pounds' worth of respect, and not much more.

{18}  She spoke it, I dare say, in English; the words would not be
the less effective for being spoken in an unknown tongue.  Lady
Hester, I believe, never learnt to speak the Arabic with a perfect
accent.

{19}  The proceedings thus described to me by Lady Hester as having
taken place during her illness, were afterwards re-enacted at the
time of her death.  Since I wrote the words to which this note is
appended, I received from Warburton an interesting account of the
heroine's death, or rather the circumstances attending the
discovery of the event; and I caused it to be printed in the former
editions of this work.  I must now give up the borrowed ornament,
and omit my extract from my friend's letter, for the rightful owner
has reprinted it in "The Crescent and the Cross."  I know what a
sacrifice I am making, for in noticing the first edition of this
book reviewers turned aside from the text to the note, and remarked
upon the interesting information which Warburton's letter
contained.  [This narrative is reproduced in an Appendix to the
present edition.]

{20}  In a letter which I afterwards received from Lady Hester, she
mentioned incidentally Lord Hardwicke, and said that he was "the
kindest-hearted man existing--a most manly, firm character.  He
comes from a good breed--all the Yorkes excellent, with ANCIENT
French blood in their veins."  The under scoring of the word
"ancient" is by the writer of the letter, who had certainly no
great love or veneration for the French of the present day:  she
did not consider them as descended from her favourite stock.

{21}  It is said that deaf people can hear what is said concerning
themselves, and it would seem that those who live without books or
newspapers know all that is written about them.  Lady Hester
Stanhope, though not admitting a book or newspaper into her
fortress, seems to have known the way in which M. Lamartine
mentioned her in his book, for in a letter which she wrote to me
after my return to England she says, "Although neglected, as
Monsieur le M." (referring, as I believe, to M. Lamartine)
"describes, and without books, yet my head is organised to supply
the want of them as well as acquired knowledge."

{22}  I have been recently told that this Italian's pretensions to
the healing art were thoroughly unfounded.  My informant is a
gentleman who enjoyed during many years the esteem and confidence
of Lady Hester Stanhope:  his adventures in the Levant were most
curious and interesting.

{23}  The Greek Church does not recognise this as the true
sanctuary, and many Protestants look upon all the traditions by
which it is attempted to ascertain the holy places of Palestine as
utterly fabulous.  For myself, I do not mean either to affirm or
deny the correctness of the opinion which has fixed upon this as
the true site, but merely to mention it as a belief entertained
without question by my brethren of the Latin Church, whose guest I
was at the time.  It would be a great aggravation of the trouble of
writing about these matters if I were to stop in the midst of every
sentence for the purpose of saying "so called" or "so it is said,"
and would besides sound very ungraciously:  yet I am anxious to be
literally true in all I write.  Now, thus it is that I mean to get
over my difficulty.  Whenever in this great bundle of papers or
book (if book it is to be) you see any words about matters of
religion which would seem to involve the assertion of my own
opinion, you are to understand me just as if one or other of the
qualifying phrases above mentioned had been actually inserted in
every sentence.  My general direction for you to construe me thus
will render all that I write as strictly and actually true as if I
had every time lugged in a formal declaration of the fact that I
was merely expressing the notions of other people.

{24}  "Vino d'oro."

{25}  Shereef.

{26}  Tennyson.

{27}  The other three cities held holy by Jews are Jerusalem,
Hebron, and Safet.

{28}  Hadj a pilgrim.

{29}  Milnes cleverly goes to the French for the exact word which
conveys the impression produced by the voice of the Arabs, and
calls them "un peuple criard."

{30}  There is some semblance of bravado in my manner of talking
about the plague.  I have been more careful to describe the terrors
of other people than my own.  The truth is, that during the whole
period of my stay at Cairo I remained thoroughly impressed with a
sense of my danger.  I may almost say, that I lived in perpetual
apprehension, for even in sleep, as I fancy, there remained with me
some faint notion of the peril with which I was encompassed.  But
fear does not necessarily damp the spirits; on the contrary, it
will often operate as an excitement, giving rise to unusual
animation, and thus it affected me.  If I had not been surrounded
at this time by new faces, new scenes, and new sounds, the effect
produced upon my mind by one unceasing cause of alarm might have
been very different.  As it was, the eagerness with which I pursued
my rambles among the wonders of Egypt was sharpened and increased
by the sting of the fear of death.  Thus my account of the matter
plainly conveys an impression that I remained at Cairo without
losing my cheerfulness and buoyancy of spirits.  And this is the
truth, but it is also true, as I have freely confessed, that my
sense of danger during the whole period was lively and continuous.


{31}  Anglice for "je le sais."  These answers of mine, as given
above, are not meant as specimens of mere French, but of that fine,
terse, nervous, Continental English with which I and my compatriots
make our way through Europe.  This language, by-the-bye, is one
possessing great force and energy, and is not without its
literature, a literature of the very highest order.  Where will you
find more sturdy specimens of downright, honest, and noble English
than in the Duke of Wellington's "French" despatches?

{32}  The import of the word "compromised," when used in reference
to contagion, is explained on page 18.

{33}  It is said, that when a Mussulman finds himself attacked by
the plague he goes and takes a bath.  The couches on which the
bathers recline would carry infection, according to the notions of
the Europeans.  Whenever, therefore, I took the bath at Cairo
(except the first time of my doing so) I avoided that part of the
luxury which consists in being "put up to dry" upon a kind of bed.

{34}  Mehemet Ali invited the Mamelukes to a feast, and murdered
them whilst preparing to enter the banquet hall.

{35}  It is not strictly lawful to sell WHITE slaves to a
Christian.

{36}  The difficulty was occasioned by the immense exertions which
the Pasha was making to collect camels for military purposes.

{37}  Herodotus, in an after age, stood by with his note-book, and
got, as he thought, the exact returns of all the rations served
out.

{38}  See Milman's "History of the Jews," first edition.

{39}  This is an appellation not implying blame, but merit; the
"lies" which it purports to affiliate are feints and cunning
stratagems, rather than the baser kind of falsehoods.  The
expression, in short, has nearly the same meaning as the English
word "Yorkshireman."

{40}  The 29th of April.

{41}  These are the names given by the Prophet to certain chapters
of the Koran.

{43}  It was after the interview which I am talking of, and not
from the Jews themselves, that I learnt this fact.

{44}  An enterprising American traveller, Mr. Everett, lately
conceived the bold project of penetrating to the University of
Oxford, and this notwithstanding that he had been in his infancy
(they begin very young those Americans) an Unitarian preacher.
Having a notion, it seems, that the ambassadorial character would
protect him from insult, he adopted the stratagem of procuring
credentials from his Government as Minister Plenipotentiary at the
Court of her Britannic Majesty; he also wore the exact costume of a
Trinitarian.  But all his contrivances were vain; Oxford disdained,
and rejected, and insulted him (not because he represented a
swindling community, but) because that his infantine sermons were
strictly remembered against him; the enterprise failed.

{45}  The rose-trees which I saw were all of the kind we call
"damask"; they grow to an immense height and size.

{46}  A dragoman never interprets in terms the courteous language
of the East.

{47}  A title signifying transcender or conqueror of Satalieh.

{48}  Spelt "Attalia" and sometimes "Adalia" in English books and
maps.

{49}  While Lady Hester Stanhope lived, although numbers visited
the convent, she almost invariably refused admittance to strangers.
She assigned as a reason the use which M. de Lamartine had made of
his interview.  Mrs. T., who passed some weeks at Djouni, told me,
that when Lady Hester read his account of this interview, she
exclaimed, "It is all false; we did not converse together for more
than five minutes; but no matter, no traveller hereafter shall
betray or forge my conversation."  The author of "Eothen," however,
was her guest, and has given us an interesting account of his visit
in his brilliant volume.




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