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 The lands of the Saracen; 
 
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 ^N':ICN' CEDARS IN TH F FQ R I^S T F I t B AN N 
 
 vn^rOffA. /r P PUI \-1M J <■'" 186 A' 
 
THE 
 
 LANDS OF THE SAEACEN; 
 
 
 PICTURES OF PALESTINE, ASIA MINOR 
 ^ICILY, AND SPaFn 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR. 
 
 NEW-YORK; 
 G. P. PUTNAM &. CO., 321 BROADWAY. 
 
 LONDON . 
 SAMPSON LOW, SON &. CO. 
 
 1857. 
 
Ertkred acooi'ding to Act ol Congress, in the year 1966, by 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM & CO., 
 
 lo the Clerk's Office of the Bistrict Court for the Southern Diatrlet si 
 
 New York. 
 
TO 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING, 
 
 This book— the chronicle of my travels through lands once occupied by the 
 
 Saracens — ^naturally dedicates itself to you, who, more than any other Americau 
 
 author, have revived the traditions, restored the history, and illustrated the character - 
 
 of that brilliant and heroic people. Your cordial encouragement confirmed me In my 
 
 design of visiting the East, and making myself familiar with Oriental life ; and though 
 
 I hring you now but imperfect returns, I can at least unite with you in admiration of a 
 
 field so rich in romantic interest, and indulge the,, hope that I may one day pluck 
 
 from it fruit instead of blossoms. In Spain, I came upon your track, and I should 
 
 hesitate to exhibit my own gleanings where you have harvested, were it not for the 
 
 belief that the rapid sketches I have given will but enhance, by the contrast, the 
 
 charm of your finished picture. 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This volume comprises the second portion of a 
 series of travels, of wMch the " Jouenet to Centeal 
 Ahkioa," already published, is the first part. . I left 
 home, intending to spend a ■winter in Africa, and to 
 return during the following summer; but circumstan- 
 ces afterwards occurred, which prolonged my wan- 
 derings to nearly two years and a half, and led me to 
 visit many remote and unexplored portions of the globe. 
 To describe this journey in a single work, would 
 embrace too many incongruous elements, to say nothing 
 of its great length, and as it falls naturally into three 
 parts, or episodes, of very distinct character, I have 
 judged it best to group my experiences under three 
 separate heads, merely indicating the links which 
 connect them. This work includes my travels in Pales- 
 tine, Syria, Asia Minor, Sicily and Spain, and will be 
 followed by a third and concluding volume, containing 
 my adventures in India, China, the Loo-Ohoo Islands, 
 
Tl PREFACE . 
 
 and Japan. Although many of the leltera, contained in 
 this volume, describe beaten tracks of travel, I have 
 always given my own individual impressions, and may 
 claim for them the merit of entire sincerity. The 
 joiu-ney from Aleppo to Constantinople, through the 
 heai't of Asia Minor, illustrates regions rarely traversed 
 by tourists, and will, no doubt, be new to most of my 
 readers. My aim, throughout the work, has been to 
 give correct pictures of Oriental life and scenery, leav- 
 ing antiquarian research and speculation to abler hands. 
 The scholar, or the man of science, may complain with 
 reason that I have neglected valuable opportunities for 
 adding something to the stock of humSh knowledge : 
 but it a few of the many thousands, who can only ti-avel 
 by their firesides, should find my pages answer the pur 
 pose of a series of cosmoramic views — should in them 
 behold with a clearer inward eye the hills of Pales- 
 tiue, the sun-gilded minarets of Damascus, or the lonely 
 pine-forests of Phrygia — should feel, by tui-ns, some- 
 thing of the inspiration and the indolence of the Orient 
 —I shall have achieved aL. I designed, and more than 
 I can justly hope. 
 
 Nbw York, Octatr, ISM 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LIFE IN A STKIAN QUAKANTINE. 
 
 Toyag« from Alexanclria to Beyrout — ^Landing at Quarantine — ^The Guardlano — Om 
 Qaartera — Our Companions — Famine and Feasting — Tlie Morning — Tlie Holy Man ot 
 Timbuctoo — Sunday in Quarantine — Islamism — We are Registered — ^Love through a 
 Grating — Trumpets — The Mystery Explained — ^Delights of Quarantine — Oriental «* 
 American Exaggeration — ^A Discussion of Politics — Our Release — Beyrout — Prepara- 
 tions for the Pilgrimage . 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COAST OP PALESTINE. 
 
 The Pilgrimage Commences — ^The Muleteers — ^The Mules — The Donkey — Journey t 
 Sidon — The Foot of Lebanon— Pictures— The Ruins of Tyre — A Wild Morning— Th< 
 Tyrian Surges — Climbing the Ladder of Tyi*e — Panorama of the Bay of Acre — Tht 
 Plain of Esdraelon — Camp in a Garden — ^Acre — the Shore of the Bay — Haifa — ^Mounl 
 Carmel and its Monastery — ^A Deserted Coast — The Ruins of Csesarea — ^The Scenery 
 of Palestine— We become Robbers— El Haram— Wrecks— the Harbor and Town of 
 Jaffa 93 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FROM JAFFA TO JEKUSALEM. 
 
 The Garden of Jaia— Breakfast at a Fountain— The Plain of Sharon— The Ruined 
 Mosque of Ramleh— A Judean Landscape— The Streets of Kamleh— Am I in Pales- 
 
Viii CONTEVTS. • 
 
 tine f— A EeaTenl; Morning— The Land of Milk and Honey— Entering the Dm- 
 Countjy— The Pilgrim's Breakfast— The Father of Lies— A Church of the Crusaders 
 —The Agriculture of the Hills— The Valley of Hah- Day-Dreams— The WUdemesa 
 —The Approach— We See tie Holy City *^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE EITEB JORDAN. 
 
 Bargaining for a Guard— Departure firom Jerusalem— The Hill of OfTenoe — Bethany— 
 The Grotto of Laiarus— The Valley of Fire— Scenery of the Wilderness— The Hills of 
 Engaddl— The shore of the Dead Sea — ^A Bituminous Bath — G-allop to the dOrdan — 
 A watch for Robbers— The Jordan — Baptisca— The Plains of Jericho— The Fountain 
 of Elisha— The Mount of Temptation- Betum to Jei'usalem .... 60 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CITY OF CHBIST. 
 
 Uodern Jerusdjm- The Site of the City— Mount ZIon— Mount Moriah — The Temple— 
 The Valley of f ehosaphat— The Olives of Qethsemane — The Mount of Olives— Moslem 
 Tradition— P»3orama fi:om the Summit— The Interior of tlie City— The Population- 
 Missions and Missionaries — Christianity in Jerusalem — ^Intolerance — The Je^vs of 
 Jerusalem — ^The Face of Christ — ^The Church of the Holy Sepulchre — The Holy of 
 Holies — The Sacred Localities — ^Visions of Christ — The Mosque of Omar — The Holy 
 Manof Timbuctoo — Preparations for Departure . . .... 73 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HILL-OOUNTKT OF PALESTINE. 
 
 Leaving Jerusalem— The Tombs of the Kings— El Bireh— The Hlll-CouQtry— First 
 View of Mount Hcrmon— The Tomb of Joseph— Ebal and Geriiim— The Gardens of 
 Nablous— The Samaritans— The Sacred Book— A Scene in the Synagogue— Mentor 
 and Telemachus— Ride to Samaria— The Ruins of Sebaste— Scriptural Landscapes- 
 Halt at Genin— The Plain of Esdraelon- Palestine and California— The Hills of 
 Nazareth— Accident— Fra Joaohlm— The Church of the Virgin— The Shrine of the 
 Annunciation— The Holy Places . .88 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COUNTBT OF GALILEE. 
 Bcparlare from Naiareth-A Christian Quidfr-Asoent of Mount Tabor-Wallachlan 
 Hermits -The Panorama of Tabor-Ride to Tlberlas-A Bath In Genesareth-Th. 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 Flowers of Galilee— The Mount of Beatitude— Magdala— Joseph's Well— Meeting 
 with a Turk— The Fountain of the Salt-Worka- The Upper Valley of the Jordan— 
 Sunmer Scenery— The Eivers of Lebanon— Tell el-'Kadi— An Arcadian Kegion— The 
 Fountains of Banias • 108 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CBOSSINO THE ANTI-LEBANON. 
 
 The Harmless Suard— Caesarea Philippl— The Valley of the Druses-The Sides of Mount 
 Henjion— An Alarm— Threading a Defile— Distant Tiew of Djebel Hauaran— Another 
 Alarm — Oamp at Katana— We Hide into Damascus 115 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PIOirEBS OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Damascus from the Anti-Lebanon— Entering the City— A Diorama of Bazaars — An 
 Oriental Hotel— Our Chamber— The Bazaars— Pipes and Coffee— The Elvers of 
 Damascus— Palaces of the Jews— Jewish Ladies— A Cliristian Gentleman— The Sacred 
 Localities— Damascus Blades— The Sword of Haroun AI-Raschid— An Arrival from 
 Palmyra 120 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE VISIONS OP HASHEESH . — 133 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A DI8SEBTATI0N ON BATHING AND BODIES. — 149 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BAALBEO AND LEBANON. 
 
 Departure ftom Damascus— The Fountains of the Pharpaiv-Pass of tte Anti-Lebanon— 
 Adventure with the Druses— The Range of Lebanon— The Demon of Hasheesh 
 departs— Impressions of Baalbeo— The Temple of the Bun— Titanic Masonry— The 
 Bnined Mosque — Camp on Lebanon — Rascality of the Guide— The Summit of Lebanon 
 —The Sacred Cedars— The Christians of Lebanon— An Afternoon in Eden— Rugged 
 Travel— We Reach the Coast— Return to Bcyrout . .... 161 
 
X CONTEXTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 P1PB8 AND COFFEE. — 178 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JOURNEY TO ANTIOOH AND ALEPPO. 
 
 Change of Plan3-4Soutes to Baghdad— Asia Mlnot^ We sail from Beyrout— Yaohting 
 oa the Syrian Coast— Tartos ana tataldyeh— The Coasts of Syria— The Bay of Sae- 
 dlah— The Mouth of the Orontes— Landing— The Garden of Syria— Ride to Antloch 
 —The Modern City— The Plains of the Orontes— Remains of the Greelc Empire— The 
 AnolentRoad— The Plain of Keflln— Approach to Aleppo . . . . 1S» 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 LIFE IN AIHPPO. 
 
 Oar Entry Into Aleppo— We are conducted to a House — Our Unexpected Welcome— The 
 Mystery Explained— Aleppo— Its Nam»— Its Situation— The Trade of Aleppo— The 
 Christians— The Revolt of 1880— Present Appearance of the City— "Hsit to Osman 
 Pasha— The Citadel— TieT tmm the Battlements — Society in Aleppo — Etiquette and 
 Coatome— Jewish Marriage Festivities— A Christian Mai'riage Procession— Ride 
 around the Town— Nighthigalea— The Aleppo Button— A Hospital for Oats— Ferhat 
 Pasha IDS 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TBBOCOH THE STBIAN GATES. 
 
 An InauspioiouB Departure— The Ruined Church of St. Simon— The Plain of Antiocb— A 
 Turcoman Encampment — Climbing AInna Dagli— The Syrian Gates— 3canderoon — An 
 American Captain— Revolt of the Koords— We take a Guard— The Field of Issus— 
 The Robber-Chief, Eutchuk All— A Deserted Town— A Land of Gardens . . SIS 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ADANA AND TARSUS. 
 
 The Black Gate— The Plain of Oilicla— A Koord Village— Missis— Oilioian Scenery— 
 Arrival at Adana— Three days in Quarantine— We receive Pratique — A Landscape— 
 The Plain of Tarsus— The River Cydnua— A Vision of Cleopatra— Tarsus and Its 
 Environs— The DimUiatlir—the Moon of Ramazan . ... 228 
 
CONTEN'TS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE PASS OFMOUNT TAOKOS. 
 
 *e enter the Taiu'us — ^lurcomans — Forest Scenery— the Palace of Pan— Khan Mezar- 
 luk— Morning among the Mountains— The Gorge of the Cydnus— The Crag of the 
 Forti-ess- The Cilician Gate— Deserted Forts- A Sublime Landscape— The Gorge of the 
 gihoon — The Second Gate — Camp in the Defile — Sunrise — Journey up the Sihoon— A 
 Change of Scenery— A Pastoral Valley— Kolu Kushla— A Deserted Khan— A Guest in 
 Ramazan— Flowers- The Plain of Karamania— Barren Hills— The Town of Eregli— 
 The Ha^ji again 2SS 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE PLAINS OF KARAMANIA. 
 
 me Plains of Karamania — ^Afternoon Heat — A Well^— Volcanic Phenomona — Sara, 
 mania — A Grand Kuined Khan — Moonlight Picture — A Landscape of the Plains — 
 Mirages— A Short Interview— The Village of Ismil— Third Day on the Plains- 
 Approach to Konia '2b(l 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SCENES IN KONIA. 
 
 Approach to Konia — ^Tomb of Hazret Mevlana — ^Lodgings in a Khan — ^An American 
 Luxury — A Nighi-Scene in Ramazan — ^Prayers in the Mosque — Remains of the 
 Ancient City — ^View from the Mosque — The Interior — A Leaning Minaret — The 
 Direrting History of the Muleteers 256 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE HEAKT OF ASIA UINOB. 
 
 Scenery of the Hills — ^Ladik, the Ancient Laodicea — The Plague of Gad-Flies — Camp at 
 Dgua — A Natural TVarm Bath — The Gad-Flies Again — ^A Summer Landscape — ^A^- 
 Sheher- The Base of Sultan Dagh— The Fountain of Midas— A Drowsy Journey— 
 The Town of Bolawadto 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE FORESTS OF PHRTGIA. 
 
 The Frontier of Phrygia— Ancient Quarries and Tombs— We Eater the Pine Forests— A 
 Guard-House— Encampments of the Turcomans— Pastoral Scenery— A Summer VH- 
 
XU CONTENTS. 
 
 lage— The Valley of the Tombs— Rook Sepulchres of the Phryjian Kings— The Tltan'i 
 Camp— The Valley of Kflmbeh— A Laod of Flowers— Turcoman Hospitality— The 
 Exiled Effendls— The Old Turcoman— A Glimpse of Arcadia— A Landscape— Inter- 
 ested Friendship— The Valley of the Pursek- Arrival at Kiutahya ... 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 EIUTAHTA, AND THE KUINS OF <EZANI. 
 
 Entrance into Kiutahya— The New Khan — An Unpleasant Discovery — ^Kiutahya — The 
 Gltadel^Panorama from the Walls — The Gorge of the Mountains — Camp in a 
 Meadow— The Valley of the Khyndacus— Chavdur— The Ruins of (Ezani — The Acro- 
 polis and Temple — The Theatre and Stadium — Ride down the Valley — Camp at DagbJ- 
 Kdi 2TO 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE MTSIAN OLYMPUS. 
 
 Journey Down the Valley— The Plague of Grasshoppers— A Defile— The Town of Tan- 
 ehania— The Oamp of Famine — We leave the Rhyndacus — The Base of Olympus— 
 Primeval Forests— The Guard-House— Soenei7 of the Summit— Forests of Beech— 
 Saw-Mills- Descent of the Mountain— The View of Olympus — Morning— The Land of 
 Harvest— Alneghi51—A Showery Ride— The Plain of Brousa— The Structure of Olym- 
 pus—We reach Brousa— The Tent is Furled 800 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BRODSA AND THE SEA OP UAKJIOKA. 
 
 The City of Brousa— Return to Civilization— Storm— The Kalputcha Hammam— A Hot 
 Bath— A Foretaste of Paradise— The Streets and Bazaars of Brousa— The Mosque— 
 The Tombs of the Ottoman Sultans— Disappearance of the Katurgees— We start for 
 Moudania- The Sea of Marmora— Moudania— Passport DilBculties- A Greek Caique 
 —Breakfast with the Fishermen— A Torrid Voyage— The Princes' Istands— Prlnkipo— 
 Distant View of Constantinople— We enter the Golden Horn . . . . gia 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE NIOHT OF PRE DB S Tl N A TI O N . 
 Oonrtantlnople In Ramazan-The Origin of the Fast-Nightly lUuminationa— The Night 
 of Predestination-The Golden Horn at Nlght-mumination of the Shores-The 
 
CONTENTS. Xiil 
 
 Cannon of Constantinople— A Fiery Fanorama^The Saltan's C<tlciue— Close of tha 
 Celebration— A Tarkish Mob — The Daneing Dervisbes .... 821 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 the: solemnities of baibak. 
 
 The Appeai'ance of the New Moon— The Eestival of Bairam— The Interior of the 
 Seraglio— The Pomp of the Sultan's Court— Rescbid Fasha— The Sultan's Dwarf- 
 Arabian StaUioDS— The Imperial Guard— Appearance of the Sultan— The Inner Court 
 — Return of the Procession- The Sultan on his Throne— The Homage of the Pashas 
 —An Oriental Picture— Kissing the Scarf- The Shekh el-Islam— The Descendant of 
 the Caliphs — ^Bairam Commences 832 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE MOSQUES OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 S(||ourn at Constantinople— Semi-Bnropean Character of the City— The Mosque— Pro- 
 curing a Firman — ^The Seraglio — The Library — ^The Ancient Throne-Room — Admit 
 tance to St. Sophia— Magnificence of the Interior — ^The Marvellous Dome — ^The 
 Mosque of Sultan Acbmed — ^Tbe Sulemanye — Gtreat Conflagrations — Political Mean- 
 ing of the Fires— Turkish Progress— Decay of the Ottoman Power . . . 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 FAREWELL TO THE OKIBH T — M A L T A . 
 
 Kmbarcation— Farewell to the Orient— Leaving Constantinople— A Wreck— The Dar- 
 danelles—Homeric Scenery— Smyrna Revisited- The Grecian Isles— Voyage to Malta 
 —Detention— La Valetta— The Maltese— The Climate— A Boat for Sicily . . 856 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL OF ST. AGATHA. 
 
 Departure from Malta— The Speronara— Our Fellow-Passengers— The First Night on 
 Board— Sicily— Scarcity of Provisions— Beating in the Calabrian Channel— The 
 Fourth Lforning— The Snlf of Catania— A Sicilian Landscape— The Anchorage— The 
 Suspected List— The Streets of Catania— Biography of St. Agatha— The Illuminations 
 —The Procession of the Veil— The Biscari Palace— The AnMquities of Catania— Tho 
 Convent of St. Nicola ... 868 
 
XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE ERUPTION OF U IT N T ETNA. 
 
 The Mountain Threatens— The Signs Increase— We Leave Catania— Gardens Among 
 the Lava— Etna Labors— Aci Reale— The Groans of Etna— The ErupUon— Gigantio 
 Tree of Smoke— Formation of the New Orate^-We Lose Sight of the Mountain— ArriTal 
 at Messina— Etna is Obscured— Departure ^S 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 OIBBALTAB. 
 
 Unwritten Llnlcs of Travel — Departure from Southampton — ^The Bay of Biscay — Cintra 
 — ^Trafalgar — Gibraltar at Midnight — Landing — Search for a Palm-Tree — ^A Brilliant 
 Morning— The OonTezity of the Esrth^-Sun- Worship— The Kock . . . SSS 
 
 CHAPTER XXXm. 
 
 CADIZ AND SEVILLE. 
 
 Voyage to Cadiz— Landing— -The City— Its Streets— The Women of Oadij— Embarka- 
 tion for Seville — Scenery of the Guadalquivir — Custom House Examination The 
 
 Guide— The Streets of Seville— The Giralda— The Cathedral of Seville— The Aloaia^- 
 Moorish Architecture— Pilate's House— Morning View ftom the Giralda- Old Wine— 
 Murillos— My Last Evening In Seville ... S91 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 JOURNEY IN A SPANISH DILIOENOB. 
 Spanish Diligence Lines— Leaving SeviUe— An Unlucky Start— Aleali of the Bakers— 
 Dhiner at Carmona— A Dehesa— The Mayoral and his Team— Eoija- Night Journey 
 —Cordova— The Cathedral-Mosque— Moorish Architecture— The Sierra Morena— A 
 Rainy Journey— A Chapter of Accidents— Baylen— The Fascination of Spain-Jaen 
 —The Vega of Granada ^^g 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 aKANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA. 
 Mateo samenet, the Younger-The Cathedral of Granada-A Monkish Mlracle-Oathollo 
 Shrlnes-MiUtary Cherubs-The Royal Ohapel-Ihe Tombs of Ferdinand and Isa- 
 
CONTENTS, XV 
 
 bellii— <&apel of San Juan de Dios— The Albayoin— View ot the Vega^-The Generallfe— 
 The Alhambrar-Torra de la Vela— The Walla and Towers— A Visit to Old Mateo— 
 The Oonit of the Fish-pond- The Halls of the Alhambra— Chai'acter of the Architec- 
 ture—Hall of flie Abenoerrages- Hall of the Two Sisters— The Moorish Dynasty la 
 Spain 414 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE BRIDLB-BOADS OF ANDALUSIA. 
 
 Change of Weather— Napoleon and his Horses— Beparture from Granada— My OuidOi 
 Jos6 G-arcia — ^His Domestic Troubles — The Tragedy of the ITmbrella — ^The Vow against 
 Aguardiente — Grossing the Vega — ^The Sierra Nevada — The Baths of Alhama — " Woe 
 is Me, Alhama I"— The Valley of the Kiver Velea— Velez Malaga— The Coast Road— 
 The Fisherman and his Donkey— Malaga— Summer Scenery— The Story ot Don Pedro, 
 without Pear and without Care— The Field of Monda— A Lonely Venta . . 421 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVir. 
 
 THE MOUNTAINS OF BONDA. 
 
 Orange Valleys— Climbing the Mountains— JosS's Hospitality— El Burgo — The Gate of 
 the Wind — ^The Cliff and Cascades of Bonda — The Mountain Begion — Traces of the 
 Moors — Haunts of Bobbers— A Stormy Bide — The Inn at Gauoin- Bad News— A 
 Boyish Auxiliary— Descent from the Mountains — ^The Ford of the Guadlaro— Our 
 Pears Eelieved— The Cork Woods— Bide from San Eoque to Gibraltar— Parting witU 
 Joii—IraTeUing in Spain— Oonclusion ........ 489 
 
THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 UPK IN A SYRIAN QUARANTINE. 
 
 Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout— Landing at Quarantine— The Etuardiano — Our 
 Quarters — Our Companions — ^Famine and Feasting — The Morning — ^The Holy Man of 
 Timbuctoo — Sunday in Quarantine — ^Islamiam — We are Registered — Love through a 
 Grating — ^Trumpets — The Mystery Esplained^-Delights of Quarantine — Oriental va. 
 American Exaggeration — ^A Discussion of Politics — Our Release — Beyrout — Frepara- 
 tloDS for the Pilgrimage. 
 
 " The mountains look on Quarantine. 
 • - - .... .. ., 
 
 QnAKliiTISE MS, 
 
 And Quarantine looks on the sea." • 
 
 kInt: 
 
 In Qoakastise, Betkout, 
 
 Saturday, April 17, 1852. 
 
 4 
 
 Everybody has heard of Quarantine, but in our favored coun- 
 try there are many untravelled persons who do not precisely 
 know what it is, and who no doubt wonder why it should be 
 such a bugbear to travellers in the Orient. I confess I am 
 still somewhat in the same predicament myself, although 
 I have already been twenty-four hours in Quarantine. 
 But, as a peculiarity of the place is, that one can do nothing, 
 nowever good a will he has, I propose to set down my expe- 
 riences each day, hoping that I and my readers may obtain 
 
18 THE I,ANDS OF THE SAKACEX. 
 
 Bome insight into the nature of Quarantine, befo^e the term of 
 my probation is over. 
 
 I left Alexandria on the afternoon of the 14th inst., in com- 
 pany with Mr. Carter Harrison, a fellow-countryman, who had 
 joined me in Cairo, for the tour through Palestine. We had a 
 head wind and rougli sea, and I remained in a torpid 
 state during most of the voyage. There was rain the second 
 night ; but, when the clouds cleared away yesterday morning, 
 we were gladdened by the sight- of Lebanon, whose suiamits 
 glittered with streaks of snow. The lower slopes of the moun- 
 tains were green with fields and forests, and Beyrout, when 
 we ran up to it, seemed buried almost out of sight, in the foli- 
 age of its mulberry groves. The town is built along the 
 northern side of a peninsula, which projects about two, miles 
 from the main line of the coast, forming a road for vessels. In 
 half an hour after our arrival, several large boats came along- 
 side, and wo were told to got our baggage in order and 
 embark for Quarantine. The time necessary to purify a tra- 
 veller arrivinffrom Egypt from suspicign of the plague, is five 
 days, but the days of arrival and dcpai'ture are counted, so 
 that the durance amounts to but three full days. The captam 
 of the Osiris mustered the passengers together, and informed 
 them that each one would be obliged to pay six piastres for 
 the transportation of himself and his baggage. Two heavy 
 lighters are now drawn up to the foot of the gangway, but aa 
 soon as the first box tumbles into them, the men tumble out. 
 They attach the craft by cables to two smaller boats, in 
 which they sit, to tow the infected loads. We are all sent 
 down together, Jews, Turks, and Christians— a confused pile 
 of men,^ women, children, and goods. A little boat from 
 
• LANDING AT QUARANTINB. 19 
 
 the city, in which there are representatives from the two 
 hotels, hovers around ns, and cards are thrown to ns. The 
 zealous agents wish to supply us immediately with tables, 
 fieds, and all other household appliances; but we decline their 
 help until we arrive at the mysterious spot. At last we float 
 off — two lighters full of infected, though respectable, material, 
 towed by oarsmen of most scurvy appearance, but free from 
 every suspicion of taint. 
 
 The sea is still rough, the sun is hot, and a fat Jewess 
 becomes searsiek. An Italian Jew rails at the boatmen ahead, 
 in the Neapolitan patois, for the distance is long, the Quaran- 
 tine being on the land- side of Beyrout. We see the rows of 
 little yellow houses on the cliff, and with great apparent risk 
 of being swept upon the breakers, are tugged into a small cove, 
 where there is a landing-place. Nobody is there to receive us; 
 the boatmen jump into the water and push the lighters against 
 the stone stairs, while we unload our own baggage. A tin 
 cup filled with sea-water is placed before us, and we each drop 
 six piastres into it — ^for money, strange as it may seem, is infee 
 tious. By this time, the guardioMos have had notice of our 
 arrival, and we go up with them to choose our habitations. 
 There are several rows of one-story houses overlooking the sea, 
 each containing two empty rooms, to be had for a hundred 
 piastres; but a square two-story dwelling stands apart from 
 them, and the whole of it may be had for thrice that sum. 
 There are seven Frank prisoners, and we take it for ourselves. 
 But the rooms are bare, the kitchen empty, and we learn the 
 important fact, that Quarantine is durance vile, without even 
 the bread and water. The guardiano says the agents ot the 
 hotel are at the gate, and we can order from them whatever 
 
20 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACElf. 
 
 we 
 
 want. Certainly; but at their own price, for we are wholly 
 at their mercy. However, we go down stairs, and the chief 
 officer, who accompanies us, gets into a corner as we pass, and 
 holds a stick before him to keep us off. He is now clean, but 
 if his garments brush against ours, he is lost. The people we 
 meet in the grounds step aside with great respect to let us pass, 
 but if we offer them our hands, no one would dare to touch a 
 finger's tip. 
 
 Here is the gate : a double screen of wire, with an interval 
 between, so that contact is impossible. There is a crowd of 
 individuals outside, all anxious to execute commissions. Among 
 them is the agent of the hotel, who proposes to fill our bare 
 rooms with furniture, send us a servant and cook, and charge 
 us the same as if we lodged with him. The bargain is closed 
 at once, and he hurries off to make the arrangements. It is 
 now four o'clock, and the bracing air of the headland gives a 
 terrible appetite to those of us who, Ukc me, have been sea- 
 sick and fasting for forty-eight hours. But there is no food 
 within the Quarantine except a patch of green wheat, and a 
 well in the limestone rock. We two Americans join company 
 with our room-mate, an Alexandrian of Italian parentage, who 
 has come to Beyrout to be married, and make the tour of our 
 territory. There is a path along the cliffs overhanging the sea, 
 with glorious views of Lebanon, up to his snowy top, the pine- 
 forests at his base, and the long cape whereon the city lies at 
 full length, reposing beside the waves. The Mahommedans 
 and Jews, in companies of ten (to save' expense), are lodged 
 in the smaller dwellings, where they have already aroused mil- 
 lions of fleas from their state of torpid expectancy. Wo 
 return, and take a survey of our companions in the pavilion : a 
 
FAMINE AND FEASTING. 21 
 
 French woman, with two ugly and peevish children (one at the 
 breast), in the next room, and three French gentlemen in the 
 other — a merchant, a young man with hair of extraordinary 
 length, and a filaUw, or silk-manufacturer, middle-aged and 
 cynical. The first is a gentleman in every sense of the word, 
 the latter endurable, but the young Absalom is my aversion. 
 I am subject to involuntary likings and dislikings, for which I 
 can give no reason, and though the man may be in every way 
 amiable, his presence is very distasteful to me. 
 
 We take a pipe of consolation, but it only whets our appe- 
 tites. We give up our promenade, for exercise is stUl worse ; 
 and at last the sun goes down, and yet no sign of dinner. Our 
 pavilion becomes a Tower of Famine, and the Italian recites 
 Dante. Finally a strange face appears at the door. By Api- 
 cius I it is a servant from the hotel, with iron bedsteads, camp- 
 tables, and some large chests, which breathe an odor of the 
 Comrmssary Department. We go stealthily down to the 
 kitchen, and watch the unpacking. Our dinner is there, sure 
 enough, but alas 1 it is not yet cooked. Patience is no more : 
 my companion manages to filch a raw onion and a crust of 
 bread, which we share, and roll under our tongues as a sweet 
 morsel, and it gives us strength for another hour. The Greek 
 dragoman and cook, who are sent into Quarantine for our sakes, 
 take compassion on us ; the fires are kindled in the cold 
 furnaces ; savory steams creep up the stairs ; the preparations 
 increase, and finally cUmax in the rapturous announcement : 
 " Messieurs, dinner is ready." The soup is liquified bhss ; the 
 cotdettes d'agneau are cotdettes de bonheur ; and as for that broad 
 dish of Syrian larks — Heaven forgive us the regret, that more 
 Bongs had not been silenced for our sake 1 The meal is all 
 
22 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 nectar and ambrosia, and now, filled and contented, we subside 
 into sleep on comfortable couches. So closes the first day of 
 our incarceration. 
 
 This morning dawned clear and beautiful. Lebanon, except 
 his snowy crest, was wrapped in the early shadows, but the 
 Mediterranean gleamed like a shield of sapphire, and Beyrout, 
 sculptured against the background of its mulberry groves, was 
 glorified beyond all other cities. The turf around our pavilion 
 fairly blazed with the splendor of the yellow daisies and crim- 
 son poppies that stud it. I was satisfied with what I saw, and 
 felt no wish to leave Quarantine to-day. Our Italian friend, 
 however, is more impatient. His betrothed came early to see 
 him, and we were edified by the great alacrity with which he 
 hastened to the grate, to renew his vows at two yards' distance 
 from her. In the meantime, I went down to the Turkish 
 houses, to cultivate the acquaintance of a singular character I 
 met on board the steamer. He is a negro of six feet four, 
 dressed in a long scarlet robe. His name is Mahommed 
 Senoosee, and he is a fakeer, or holy man, from Timbuctoo. 
 He has been two years absent from home, on a pUgrimage to 
 Mecca and Medina, and is now on his way to Jerusalem and 
 Damascus. He has travelled extensively in all parts of Cen- 
 tral Africa, from Dar-Fur to Ashantee, and professes to be on 
 good terms with the Sultans of Houssa and Bornou. He has 
 even been in the great kingdom of Waday, which has never 
 been explored by Europeans, and as far south as lola, the capi- 
 tal of Adamowa. Of the correctness of his narrations I have 
 not the least doubt, as they correspond geographically with all 
 that we know of the interior of Africa. In answer to my 
 question whether a European might safely make the same tour 
 
SUNDAY IK QL'ARAXTINE. 23 
 
 he replied that there would be no difficulty, provided he was 
 accompanied by a native, and he offered to take me even to 
 Timbnctoo, if I would return with him. He was very curious 
 to obtain information about America, and made notes of all 
 that I told him; in the quaint character used by the Mughreb- 
 bins, or Arabs of the West, which has considerable resem- 
 blance to the ancient Cufic. He wishes to join company with 
 me for the journey to Jerusalem, and perhaps I shall accept 
 him. 
 
 Simday, April 18. 
 
 As Quarantine is a sort of limbo, without the pale of civi- 
 lized society, we have no church service to-day. We have 
 done the best we could, however, in sending one of the outside 
 dragomen to purchase a Bible, in which we succeeded. He 
 brought us a very handsome copy, printed by the American 
 Bible Society in New York. I tried vainly in Cairo and Alex- 
 andria to find a missionary who would supply my heathenish 
 destitution of the Sacred Writings; for I had reached the East 
 through Austria, where they are prohibited, and to Jxavel 
 through Palestine without them, would be like sailing without 
 pilot or compass. It gives a most impressive reality .to Solo- 
 mon's " house of the forest of Lebanon," when you can look up 
 from the page to those veiy forests and those grand mountains, 
 " excellent with the cedars." Seeing the holy man of Timbnc- 
 too praying with his face towards Mecca, I went down to him, 
 and we conversed for a long time on religious matters. He is 
 toifti-ably well informed, having read the Books of Moses and 
 the Psalms of David, but, like all Mahommedans, his ideas of 
 religion consist mainly of forms, and its reward is a sensual 
 paradise. The more intelligent of the Moslems give a spiritual 
 
24 THK LANDS OP THE SAEACBN. 
 
 interpretation to the nature of the Heaven promised by th« 
 Prophet, and I have heard several openly confess their disbe- 
 lief in the seventy houries and the palaces of pearl and emerald. 
 Shekh Mahommed Senoosee scarcely ever utters a sentence in 
 which is not the word " AUah," and "La illah il' Allah" is 
 repeated at least every five minutes. Those of his class consi- 
 der that there is a peculiar merit in the repetition of the names 
 and attributes of God. They utterly reject the doctrine of the 
 Trinity, which they believe implies a sort of partnership, or 
 G-od-firm (to use their own words), and declare that aU who 
 accept it are hopelessly damned. To deny Mahomet's prophet- 
 ship would excile a violent antagonism, and I content myseif 
 with making them acknowledge tnat God is greater than all 
 Prophets or Apostles, and that there is but one God for all the 
 human race. I have never yet encountered that bitter spirit 
 of bigotry which is so frequently ascribed to them; but on the 
 contrary, fully as great a tolerance as they would find exhibited 
 towards them by most of the Christian sects. 
 
 This mornmg a paper was sent to us, on which we were 
 requested to write our names, ages, professions, and places of 
 nativity. We conjectured that we were subjected to the sus- 
 picion of political as well as physical taint, but happily this was 
 not the case. I registered myself as a voyagmr, the French as 
 7iegocians, and when it came to the woman's turn, Absalom, 
 who is a partisan of female progress, wished to give her the 
 same profession as her husband — a machinist. But she 
 declared that her only profession was that of a "married 
 woman," and she was so inscribed. Her peevish boy rejoiced 
 in the title of " pleuricheur," or " weeper," and the infant aa 
 " titeuse," or " sucker." While this was going on, the guardi* 
 
TRUMPETS. 25 
 
 ano of our room came in very mysteriously, and beckoned to my 
 companion, saying that " Mademoiselle was at the gate." But 
 it was the Italian who was wanted, and again, from the little 
 window of our pavilion, we watched his hurried progress over 
 the lawn. No sooner had she departed, than he took his pocket 
 telescope, slowly sweeping the circuit of the bay as she drew 
 nearer and nearer Beyrout. He has succeeded in distinguish- 
 ing, among the mass of buildings, the top of the house in which 
 she lives, but alasl it is one story too low, and his patient 
 espial has only been rewarded by the sight of some cats 
 promenading on the roof. 
 
 I have succeeded in obtaining some further particulars in 
 relation to Quarantine. On the night of our arrival, as we 
 were about gettmg into our beds, a sudden and horrible gush 
 of brimstone vapor came up stairs, and we all fell to coughing 
 like patifflits in a pulmonary hospital. The odor increased till 
 we were obliged to open the windows and sit beside them in 
 order to breathe comfortably. This was the preparatory fumi- 
 gation, in order to remove the ranker seeds of plague, after 
 which the milder symptoms vrill of themselves vanish in the 
 pure air of the place. Several times a day we are stunned 
 and overwhelmed with the cracked brays of three discordant 
 trumpets, as grating and doleful as the last gasps of a dying 
 donkey. At first I supposed the object of this was to give a 
 greater agitation to the air, and separate and shake down the 
 noxious exhalations we emit ; but since I was informed that the 
 soldiers outside would shoot us in case we attempted to escape, 
 I ha-ve concluded that the sound is meant to alarm as, and pre- 
 vent our approaching too near the walls. On inquiring of our 
 gnardiano whether the wheat growing within the gronnds was 
 
 2 
 
26 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 subject to Quarantine, he informed me that it did not ccorej 
 • infection, and that three old geese, who walked out past the 
 guard with impunity, were free to go and come, as they had 
 never been known to have the plague. Yesterday evening the 
 medical attendant, a Polish physician, came in to inspect us, 
 but he made a very hasty review, looking down on us from the 
 top of a high horse. 
 
 Monday, April 19. 
 Eureka I the whole thing is explained. Talking to day with 
 the gnardiano, he happened to mention that he had been three 
 years in Quarantine, keeping watch over infected travellers. 
 "What I" said I, "you have been sick three years." "Oh 
 no," he replied ; "I have never been sick at all." "But are 
 not people sick in Quarantine ?" " StafferUlah P' he exclaimed ; 
 " they are always in better health than the people outside." 
 " What is Quarantine for, then ?" I persisted. " What is it for ?" 
 he repeated, with a pause of blank amazement at my ignorance, 
 " why, to get money from the travellers 1" Indiscreet gnar- 
 diano 1 It were better to suppose ourselves under suspicion of 
 the plague, than to have such an explanation of the mystery. 
 Yet, in spite of the unpalatable knowledge, I almost regret 
 that this is our last day in the establishment. The ai; is so 
 pure and bracing, the views from our windows so magnificent, 
 the colonized branch of the Beyrout Hotel so comfortable, 
 that I am content to enjoy this pleasant idleness^— the more 
 pleasant -since, being involuntary, it is no weight on the con- 
 science. I look up to the Maronite villages, perched on the 
 slopes of Lebanon, with scarce a wish to climb to them, or 
 turning to the sparkling Mediterranean, view 
 
ORIENTAL EXAGGERATION. 27 
 
 « The speronara's sail of snowy hue 
 Whitening and brightening on that field of blue," 
 
 and have none of that unrest which the sight of a vessel in 
 motion suggests. 
 
 To-day my friend from Timbuctoo came up to have another 
 talk. He was curious to know the object of my travels, and 
 as he would not have comprehended the exact truth, I was 
 obliged to convey it to him through the medium of fiction. I 
 informed him that I had been dispatched by the Sultan of my 
 country to obtain information of the countries of Africa; that 
 I wrote in a- book accounts of everything I saw, and on my 
 return, would present this book to the Sultan, who would re- 
 ward me with a high rank — ^perhaps even that of Grand Yizier. 
 The Orientals deal largely in hyperbole, and scatter numbers 
 and values with the most reckless profusion. The Arabic, like 
 the Hebrew, its sister tongue, and other old original tongues 
 of Man, is a language of roots, and abounds with the boldest 
 metaphors. Now, exaggeration is but the imperfect form of 
 metaphor. The expression is always a splendid amplification of 
 the simple fact. Like skilful archers, in order to hit the mark, 
 they aim above it. When you have once learned his Standard 
 of truth, you can readily gauge an Arab's expressions, and 
 regulate your own accordingly. But whenever I have attempted 
 to strike the key-note myself, I generally found that it was 
 below, rather than above, the Oriental pitch. 
 
 The Shekh had already informed me that the King of Ashan- 
 tee, whom he had visited, possessed twenty-four houses full of 
 gold, and that the Sultan of Houssa had seventy thousand 
 horses always standing saddled before his palace, in order that 
 he might take his choice, when he wished to ride out. By this 
 
28 THE LANDS Of THE SARACEN. 
 
 he did not mean that the facts were precisely so, but only that 
 the King was very rich, and the Sultan had a great many 
 horses. In order to give the Shekh an idea of the great wealth 
 and power of the American Nation, I was obliged to adopt the 
 same plan. I told him, therefore, that our country was two 
 years' journey in extent, that the Treasury consisted of four 
 thousand houses filled to the roof with gold, and that two hun- 
 dred thousand soldiers on horseback kept continual guard 
 around Sultan Fillmore's palace. He received these tremendous 
 statements with the utmost serenity and satisfaction, carefully 
 wiiting them in his book, together with the name of Sultan 
 Fillmore, whose fame has ere this reached the remote regions 
 of Timbuctoo. The Shekh, moreover, had the desire of visiting 
 England, and wished me to give him a letter to the English 
 Sultan. This rather exceeded my powers, but I wrote a simple 
 certificate explaining who he was, and whence he came, which 
 I sealed with an immense display of wax, and gave him. In 
 return, he wrote his name in my book, in the Mughrebbin char- 
 acter, adding the sentence : " There is no God but God." 
 
 This evening the forbidden subject of politics crept into our 
 quiet community, and the result was an explosive contention 
 which drowned even the braying of the agonizing trumpets out- 
 side. The gentlemanly Frenchman is a sensible and consistent 
 republican, the old filateur a violent monarchist, while Absar 
 lom, as I might have foreseen, is a Red, of the schools of Proud- 
 hon and Considerant. The first predicted a Republic in 
 France, the second a Monarchy in America, and the last was 
 in favor of a general and total demolition of all existing sys- 
 tems. Of course, with such elements, anything like a serious 
 discussion was impossible ; and, as in most French debates, it 
 
DBAGOMBK. 29 
 
 ended in a bewildering confusion of cries and gesticniations. 
 In the midst of it, I was struck by the cordiality with which 
 the Monarchist and the Socialist united in their denunciations 
 of England and the English laws. As they sat side by side, 
 pouring out anathemas against " perfide Albion," I could not 
 help exclaiming: " VoUa, comme les extremes se rmcoTUrent ! " 
 This turned the whole current of their wrath against me, and 
 I was glad to make a hasty retreat. 
 
 The physician again visited us to-night, to promise a release 
 to-morrow morning. He looked us all in the faces, to be cer- 
 tain that there were no signs of pestilence, and politely regret- 
 ted that he could not offer us his hand. The husband of the 
 " married woman" also came, and relieved the other gentlemen 
 from the charge of the " weeper." He was a stout, ruddy 
 Provengal, in a white blouse, and I commiserated him sincerely 
 for having such a disagreeable wife. 
 
 To-day, being the last of our imprisonment, we have received 
 many tokens of attention from dragomen, who have sent their 
 papers through the grate to us, to be returned to-morrow after 
 our liberation. They are not very prepossessing specimens of 
 their class, with the exception of Tusef Badra, who brings a 
 recommendation from my friend, Ross Browne. Yusef is a 
 handsome, dashing fellow, with something of the dandy in his 
 dress and air, but he has a fine, clear, sparkling eye, with just 
 enough of the devil in it to make him attractive. I think, how- 
 ever, that the Greek dragoman, who has been our companion 
 in Quarantine, will carry the day. He is by birth a Boeotian, 
 but now a citizen of Athens, and calls himself Frangois Vitalis. 
 He speaks French, German, and Italian, besides Arabic and 
 Turkish, and as he has been for twelve or fifteen years vibrat- 
 
30 THE LAND3 OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 ing between Europe and the East, he must by this time hayfl 
 amassed sufficient experience to answer the needs of rough-and- 
 tumble travellers like ourselves. He has not asked us for the 
 place, which displays so much penetration on his part, that we 
 shall end by offering it to him. Perhaps he is content to rest 
 his claims upon the memory of our first Quarantine dinner. If 
 so, the odors of" the cutlets and larks — even of the raw onion, 
 which we remember with tears — shall not plead his cause in 
 vain. 
 
 BsTBOUT (out of Quarantine), Wednetday, May SI. 
 
 The handsome Greek, Diamanti, one of the proprietors of 
 the " Hotel de Belle Tue," was on hand bright and early yes- 
 terday morning, to welcome us out of Quarantine. The gates 
 were thrown wide, and forth we issued between two files of 
 soldiers, rejoicing in our purification. We walked through mul- 
 berry orchards to the town, and through its steep and crooked 
 streets to the hotel, which stands beyond, near the extremity 
 of the Cape, or Ras Beyrout. The town is small, but has an 
 active population, and a larger commerce than any other port 
 in Syria. The anchorage, however, is an open road, and in 
 stormy weather it is impossible for a boat to land. There are 
 two picturesque old castles on some rocks near the shore, but 
 they were almost destroyed by the English bombardment in 
 1841. I noticed two or three granite columns, now used as 
 the lintels of some of the arched ways in the streets, and other 
 fragments of old masonry, the only remains of the ancient 
 Berytus. 
 
 Our time, since our release, has been occupied by preparer 
 tions for the journey to Jerusalem. We have taken Franjois 
 as dragoman, and our mukkairee, or muleteers, are engaged t« 
 
PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE. 31 
 
 be ia readiness to-morrow morning. I learn that the Druses 
 are in revolt in Djebel Hauaran and parts of the Anti-Lebanon, 
 which will prevent my forming any settled plan for the tour 
 through Palestine and Syria. Up to this time, the country has 
 been considered quite safe, the only robbery this winter having 
 been that of the party of Mr. Degen, of New York, which was 
 plundered near Tiberias. Dr. Robinson left here ,two weeks 
 ago for Jerusalem, in company with Dr. Eli Smith, of the 
 American Mission at this place. 
 
32 THB LANDS OP THE SARACEM. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COAST or PALESTINE. 
 
 The Pilgrimage Commences — The Muleteers — ^The Mules — The Donkey— Journey to 
 Sidon— The Foot of Lebanon— Pictures — The Ruins of Tyre— A Wild Homing— The 
 Tyi'ian Surges — Climbing the Ladder of Tyre — Panorama of the Bay of Acre— The 
 Plain of Esdraelon — Camp in a Garden — Acre — the Shore of the Bay— Haifa— Mount 
 Garmel and its Monastery — A Deserted Coast — ^The Ruins of Ccesarea — ^The Scenery 
 of Palestine — ^We become Robbers — El Haram — ^Wrecks- the Harbor and Town of 
 Jaffa. 
 
 " Along the line of foam, the jevelled chain, 
 The largesse of the erer-glTing main." 
 
 R. H. Stoddasd. 
 
 Bajilbh, April 2T, 1853. 
 
 We left Beyrout on the morning of the 22d. Onr caravan 
 consisted of three horses, three mules, and a donkey, in charge 
 of two men — Dervish, an erect, black-bearded, and most 
 impassive Mussulman, and Mustapha, who is the very picture 
 of patience and good-nature. He was born with a smile on 
 his face, and has never been able to change the expression. 
 They are both masters of their art, and can load a mule with a 
 speed and skill which I would defy any Santa F6 trader to 
 excel. The animals are not less interesting than their masters. 
 Our horses, to be sure, are slow, plodding beasts, with consi- 
 derable endurance, but little spirit ; but the two baggage- 
 mules deserve gold medals from the Society for the Promotion 
 
THE MULES. 33 
 
 of Industry. I can overlook any amount of waywardness 
 in the creatures, in consideration of the steady, persevering 
 energy, the cheerfulness and even enthusiasm with which they 
 perform their duties. They seem to be conscious that they are 
 doing well, and to take a delight in the consciousness. One 
 of them has a band of white shells around his neck, fastened 
 with a tassel and two large blue beads; and you need but look 
 at him to see that he is aware how becoming it is. He thinks 
 it was given to him for good conduct, and is doing his best to 
 merit another. The little donkey is a still more original 
 animal. He is a practical humorist, full of perverse tricks, 
 but all intended for effect, and without a particle of malice. 
 He generally walks behind, running off to one side or the 
 other to crop a mouthful of grass, but no sooner does Dervish 
 attempt to mount him, than he sets off at full gallop, and 
 takes the lead of the caravan. After having performed one 
 of his feats, he turns around with a droll glance at us, as much 
 as to say : " Did you see that ?" If we had not been present, 
 most assuredly he would never have done it. I can imagine 
 him, after his return to Beyrout, relating his adventures to a 
 company of fellow-donkeys, who every now and then burst into 
 tremendous brays at some of his irresistible dry sayings. 
 
 I persuaded Mr. Harrison to adopt the Oriental costume, 
 which, from five months' wear in Africa, I greatly preferred to 
 the Frank. We therefore rode out of Beyrout as a pair 
 of Syrian Beys, while Frangois, with his belt, sabre, and pistols, 
 had much the aspect of a Greek brigand. The road crosses the 
 hill behind the city, between the Forest of Pines and a long 
 tract of red sand-hills next the sea. It was a lovely morning, 
 not too bright and hot, for light, fleecy vapors hung along the 
 
 2* 
 
34 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 Bides of Lebanon. Beyond the mulberry orchards, we entered 
 on wild, half-cultivated tracts, covered with a bewildering maze 
 of blossoms. The hill-side and stony shelves of soil overhang- 
 ing the sea fairly blazed with the brilliant dots of color which 
 were rained upon them. The pink, the broom, the poppy, the 
 speedwell, the lupin, that beautiful variety of the cyclamen, 
 called by the Syrians " deek e-djebd" (cock o' the mountain), 
 and a number of unknown plants dazzled the eye with their 
 profusion, and loaded the air with fragrance as rare as it was 
 unfailing. Here and there, clear, swift rivulets came down 
 from Lebanon, coursing their way between thickets of bloom- 
 ing oleanders. Just before crossing the little river Damoor, 
 Frangois pointed out, on one of the distant heights, the resi- 
 dence of the late Lady Hester Stanhope. During the after- 
 noon we crossed several offshoots of the Lebanon, by paths 
 incredibly steep and stony, and towards evening reached Saida, 
 the ancient Sidon, where we obtained permission to pitch our 
 tent in a garden. The town is built on a narrow point of land, 
 jutting out from the centre of a bay, or curve in the coast, and 
 contains about five thousand inhabitants. It is a quiet, sleepy 
 sort of a place, and contains nothing of the old Sidon except a 
 few stones and the fragments of a mole, extending into the sea. 
 The fortress in the water, and the Citadel, are remnants of 
 Venitian sway. The clouds gathered after nightfall, and 
 occasionally there was a dash of rain on our tent. But I heard 
 it with the same quiet happiness, as when, in boyhood, sleep- 
 ing beneath the rafters, I have heard the rain beating all night 
 upon the roof. I breathed the sweet breath of the grasses 
 whereon my carpet was spread, and old Mother Earth, wel- 
 coming me back to her bosom, cradled me into calm and 
 
THE FOOT OF LEBANON 3b 
 
 refreshing sleep. There is no rest more grateful than that 
 which we take on the turf or the sand, except the rest below 
 it. 
 
 We rose in a dark and cloudy morning, and continued our 
 way between fields of barley, completely ^ined with the 
 bloody hue of the poppy, and meadows turned into golden 
 mosaic by a brilliant yellow daisy. Until noon our road was 
 over a region of alternate meadow land and gentle though stony 
 elevations, making out from Lebanon. We met continually 
 with indications of ancient power and prosperity. The ground 
 was strewn with hewn blocks, and the foundations of buildings 
 remain in many places. Broken sarcophagi lie half-buried in 
 grass, and the gray rocks of the hills are pierced with tombs. 
 The soil, though stony, appeared to be naturally fertile, and 
 the crops of wheat, barley, and lentils were very flourishing. 
 After rounding the promontory which forms the southern boun- 
 dary of the Gulf of Sidon, we rode for an hour or two over a 
 plain near the sea, and then came down to a valley which ran 
 up among the hills, terminating in a natural amphitheatre. An 
 ancient barrow, or tumulus, nobody knows of whom, stands 
 near the sea. During the day I noticed two charming little 
 pictures. One, a fountain gushing into a broad square basin 
 of masonry, shaded by three branching cypresses. Two Turks 
 sat on its edge, eating their bread and curdled milk, while 
 their horses drank out of the stone trough below. The other, 
 an old Mahommedan, with a green turban and white robe, 
 seated at the foot of a majestic sycamore, over the high bank 
 of a stream that tumbled down its bed, of white marble rock to 
 the sea. 
 
 The plain back of the narrow, sandy promontory on which 
 
86 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the modern Soor is built, is a rich black loam, which a little 
 proper culture would turn into a very garden. It helped me 
 to account for the wealth of ancient Tyre. The approach to 
 the town, along a beach on which the surf broke with a con- 
 tinuous roar, with the wreck of a Greek vessel in the fore- 
 ground, and a stormy sky behind, was very striking. It was 
 a wild, bleak picture, the white minarets of the town standing 
 out spectrally against the clouds. We rode up the sand-hills, 
 back of the town, and selected a good camping-place among 
 the ruins of Tyre. Near us there was an ancient square build- 
 ing, now used as a cistern, and filled with excellent fresh water. 
 The. surf roared tremendously on the rocks, on either hand, 
 and the boom of the more distant breakers came to my ear 
 like the wind in a pine forest. The remains of the ancient sea- 
 wall are still to be traced for the entire circuit of the city, and 
 the heavy surf breaks upon piles of shattered granite columns. 
 Along a sort of mole, protecting an inner harbor on the north 
 Bide, are great numbers of these columns. I counted fifteen 
 in one group, some of them fine red granite, and some of the 
 marble of Lebanon. The remains of the pharos and the for- 
 tresses strengthening the sea-wall, were pointed out by the 
 Syrian who accompanied us as .a guide, but his faith was a 
 little stronger than mine. He even showed us the ruins of the 
 jetty built by Alexander, by means of which the ancient city, 
 then insulated by the sea, was taken. The remains of the cause- 
 way gradually formed the promontory by which the place is 
 now connected with the main land. These are the principal 
 indications of Tyre above ground, but the guide informed us 
 that the Arabs, in digging among the saud-hills for the stones 
 of the old buil(Ung8, which they quarry oat and ship to Bey- 
 
THE TTKIAN SURGES. 31 
 
 rout, come upon chambers, pillars, arches, and other objects 
 The Tyrian purple is still furnished by a muscle found upon the 
 coast, but Tyre is now only noted for its tobacco and mill- 
 stones. I saw many of the latter lying in the streets of the 
 town, and an Arab was selling a quantity at auction in the 
 square, as we passed. They are cut out from a species of dark 
 volcanic rock, by the Bedouins of the mountains. There were 
 half a dozen small coasting vessels lying in the road, but the 
 old harbors are entirely destroyed. Isaiah's prophecy is liter- 
 ally fulfilled : " Howl, ye ships of Tarshish ; for it is laid waste, 
 so that there is no house, no entering in." 
 
 On returning from our ramble we passed the house- of the 
 Governor, Daood Agha, who was dispensing justice in regard 
 to a lawsuit then before him. He asked us to stop and take 
 coffee, and received us with much grace and dignity. As we 
 rose to leave, a slave brought me a large bunch of choice flowers 
 from his garden. 
 
 We set out from Tyre at an early hour, and rode along the 
 beach around the head of the bay to the Ras-el-Abiad, the 
 ancient Promontorium Album. The morning was wild and 
 cloudy, with gleams of sunshine that flashed out over the dark 
 violet gloom of thg sea. The surf was magnificent, rolling up 
 in grand billows, which broke and formed again, till the last 
 of the long, falling fringes of snow slid seething up the sand. 
 Something of ancient power was in their shock and roar, and 
 every great wave that plunged and drew back again, called in 
 its solemn bass : " Where are the ships of Tyre ? where are 
 the ships of Tyte?" I looked back on the city, which stood 
 advanced far into the sea, her feet bathed in thunderous spray. 
 By and by the clouds cleared away, the sun came out bold and 
 
38 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 bright, and our road left the beach for a meadowy plain, 
 crossed by fresh streams, and sown with an inexhaustible wealth 
 of flowers. Through thickets of myrtle and mastic, around 
 which the rue and lavender grew in dense clusters, we reached 
 ^he foot of the mountain, and began ascending the celebrated 
 Ladder of Tyre. The road is so steep as to resemble a stair- 
 case, and climbs along the side of the promontory, hanging 
 over precq)ices of naked white rock, in some places three hun- 
 dred feet in height. The mountain is a mass of magnesian 
 limestone, with occasional beds of marble. The surf has worn 
 its foot into hollow caverns, into Which the sea rushes with a 
 dull, heavy boom, like distant thunder. The sides are covered 
 with thickets of broom, myrtle, arbutus, Uex, mastic and laurel, 
 overgrown with woodbine, and interspersed with patches of 
 sage, lavender, hyssop, wild thyme, and rue. The whole moun- 
 tain is a heap of balm ; a bundle of sweet spices. 
 
 Our horses' hoofs clattered up and down the rounds of the 
 ladder, and we looked ouj: last on Tyre, fading away behind 
 the white hem of the breakers, as we turned the point of the 
 promtjutory. Another cove of the mountain-coast followed, 
 terminated by the Cape of Nakhnra, the northern point of the 
 Bay of Acre. We rode along a stony way between fields of 
 wheat and barley, blotted almost out of sight by showers of 
 scarlet poppies and yellow chrysanthemums. There were fre- 
 quent ruins : fragments of sarcophagi, foundations of houses, 
 and about half way between the two capes, the mounds of 
 Alexandro-Schoenae. We stopped at a khan, and breakfasted 
 under a magnificent olive tree, while two boys tended our 
 horses to see that they ate only the edges of the wheat field. 
 Below the house were two large cypresses, and on a little 
 
PANOEAMA OP THE BAY OF ACRE. 89 
 
 tongue of land the tuins of one of those square towers of the 
 corsairs, which line all this coast. The intense blue of the 
 sea, seen close at hand over a broad field of goldening wheat, 
 formed a dazzling and superb contrast of color. Early in the 
 afternoon we climbed the Ras Kakhura, not so bold and grand, 
 though quite as flowery a steep as the Promontorium Album. 
 We had been jogging half an hour over its uneven summit, 
 when the side suddenly fell away below us, and we saw the 
 whole of the great gulf and plain of Acre, backed fay the long 
 ridge of Mount Carmel. Behind the sea, which makes a deep 
 indentation in the line of the coast, extended the plain, 
 bounded on the east, at two leagues' distance, by a range of 
 hills covered with luxuriant olive groves, and still higher, by 
 the distant mountains of Cralilee. The fortifications of Acre 
 were visible on a slight promontory near the middle of the 
 Gulf. From our feet the line of foamy surf extended for 
 mUes along the red sand-beach, till it finally became like a 
 chalk-mark on the edge of the field of blue. 
 
 "We rode down the mountain and continued our journey over 
 the plain of Esdraelon — a picture of summer luxuriance and 
 bloom. The waves of wheat and barley rolled away from our 
 path to the distant olive orchards; here the water gushed 
 from a stone fountain and flowed into a turf-girdled pool, 
 around which the Syrian women were washing their garments ; 
 there, a garden of orange, lemon, fig, and pomegranate trees 
 in blossom, was a spring of sweet odors, which overflowed the 
 whole land. We rode into some of these forests, for they were 
 no less, and finally pitched our tent in one of them, belonging 
 to the palace of the former Abdallah Pasha, within a mile of 
 Acre. The old Saracea aqueduct, which still conveys water to 
 
40 THE LANDS OP THE SABACEN. 
 
 the town, overhnng onr tent. For an hour before reaching our 
 destination, we had seen it on the left, crossing the hollows on 
 light stone arches. In one place I counted fifty-eight, and in 
 another one hundred and three of these arches, some of which 
 were fifty feet high. Our camp was a charming place : a nest 
 of deep herbage, under two enormous fig-trees, and surrounded 
 by a balmy grove of orange and citron. It was doubly beau- 
 tiful when the long line of the aqueduct was lit up by the moon, 
 and the orange trees became mounds of ambrosial darkness. 
 
 In the morning we rode to Acre, the fortifications of which 
 hare been restored on the land-side. A ponderous double gate- 
 way of stone admitted us into the city, through what was once, 
 apparently, the court-yard of a fortress. The streets of the 
 town are narrow, terribly rough, and very dirty, but the 
 bazaars are extensive and well stocked. The principal mosque, 
 whose heavy dome is visible at some distance from the city, is 
 surrounded with a garden, enclosed by a pillared corridor, 
 paved with marble. All the houses of the city are built in the 
 most massive style, of hard gray limestone or marble, and this 
 circumstance alone prevented their complete destruction during 
 the English bombardment in 1841. The marks of the shells 
 are everywhere seen, and the upper parts of the lofty buildings 
 are completely riddled with cannon-balls, some of which 
 remain embedded in the stone. We made a rapid tour of the 
 town on horseback, followed by the curious glances of the 
 people, who were in doubt whether to consider us Turks or 
 Franks. There were a dozen vessels in'the harbor, which is 
 considered the best in Syria. 
 
 The baggage-mules had gone on, so we galloped after them 
 along the hard beach, around the head of the bay. It was a 
 
HAIFA AND MOUNT CAaME». 41 
 
 brilliant morning ; a delicious south-eastern breeae came to us 
 over the flowery plain of Esdraelon ; the sea on our right shone 
 blue, and purple, and violet-green, and black, as the shadows 
 or sunshine crossed it, and only the long lines of roaring foam, 
 for ever changing in form, did not vary in hue. A fisherman 
 stood on the beach in a statuesque attitude, his handsome bare 
 legs bathed in the frothy swells, a bag of fish hanging from his 
 shoulder, and the large square net, with its sinkers of lead in 
 his right hand, ready for a cast. He had good luck, for the 
 waves brought up plenty of large fish, and cast them at our 
 feet, leaving them to struggle back into the treacherous brine. 
 Between Acre and Haifa we passed six or eight wrecks, mostly 
 of small trading vessels. Some were half buried in sand, some 
 so old and mossy that they were fast rotting away, while a few 
 had been recently hurled there. As we rounded the deep curve 
 of the bay, and approached the line of palm-trees girding the 
 foot of Mount Carmel, Haifa, with its wall and Saracenic 
 town in ruin on the hill above, grew more clear and bright in 
 the sun, while Acre dipped into the blue of the Mediterranean. 
 The town of Haifa, the ancient Oaiapha, is small, dirty, and 
 beggarly looking ; but it has some commerxie, sharing the trade 
 of Acre in the productions of Syria. It was Sunday, and all 
 the Consular flags were flying. It was an unexpected delight 
 to find the American colors in this little Syrian town, flying 
 firom one of the tallest poles. The people stared at us as we 
 passed, and I noticed among them many bright Frankish faces, 
 with eyes too clear and gray for Syria. O ye kind brothers of 
 the monastery of Carmel I forgive me if I look to you for an 
 explanation of this phenomenon. 
 We ascended to Mount Carmel. The path led through a 
 
42 THB LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 grove of carob trees, from which the beans, known in Germany 
 as St. John's bread, are produced. After this we came into 
 an olive grove at the foot of the mountain, from wnich long 
 fields of wheat, giving forth a ripe summer smell, flowed down 
 to the shore of the bay. The olive trees were of immense size, 
 and I can well believe, as Fra Carlo informed us, that they 
 were probably planted by the Roman colonists, established 
 there by Titus. The gnarled, veteran boles still send forth 
 vigorous and blossoming boughs. There were all manner of 
 lovely lights and shades chequered over the turf and the wind- 
 ing path we rode. At last we reached the foot of an ascent, 
 steeper than the Ladder of Tyre. As our horses slowly climbed 
 to the Convent of St. Elijah, whence we already saw the French 
 flag floating over the shoulder of the mountain, the view opened 
 grandly to the north and €ast, revealing the bay and plain of 
 Acre, and the coast as far as Ras Nakhura, from which we first 
 saw Mount Carmel the day previous. The two views are very 
 similar in character, one being the obverse of the other. We 
 reached the Convent — ^Dayr Mar Elias, as the Arabs call it — 
 at noon, just in time to partake of a bountiful dinner, to which 
 the monks had treated themselves. Fra Carlo, the good Fran- 
 ciscan who receives strangers, showed us the building, and the 
 Grotto of Elijah, which is under the altar of the Convent 
 Church, a small but very handsome structure of Italian marble. 
 The sanctity of the Grotto depends on tradition entirely, as 
 there is no mention in the Bible of Elijah having resided on 
 Carmel, though it was from this mountain that he saw the 
 cloud, " like a man's hand," rising from the sea. The Convent, 
 which is quite new — not yet completed, in fact — is a large, 
 massive building, and has the aspect of a fortress. 
 
THE RUINS OP CJESAREA. 43 
 
 As we were to sleep at Tantura, five hours distant, we 
 were obliged to make a short visit, in spite of the invitation of 
 the hospitable Fra Carlo to spend the night there. In the 
 afternoon we passed the ruins of Athlit, a town of the Middle 
 Ages, and the Castel Pellegrino of the Crusaders. Our road 
 now followed the beach, nearly the whole distance to Jaffa, 
 and was in many places, for leagues in extent, a, solid layer of 
 white, brown, purple and rosy shells, which cracked and rattled 
 under our horses' feet. Tantura is a poor Arab village, and 
 we had some difSculty in procuring provisions. The people 
 lived in small huts of mud and stones, near the sea. The place 
 had a thievish look, and we deemed it best to be careful in the 
 disposal of our baggage for the night. 
 
 In the morning we took the coast again, riding over millions 
 of shells. A line of sandy hills, covered with thickets of 
 myrtle and mastic, shut off the view of the plain and meadows 
 between the sea and the hUls of Samaria. After three hours' 
 ride we saw the ruins of ancient Caesarea, near a small pro- 
 montory. The road turned away from the sea, and took the 
 wild plain behind, which is completely overgrown with camo- 
 mile, chrysanthemum and wild shrubs. The ruins of the town 
 are visible at a considerable distance along the coast. The 
 principal remains consist of a massive wall, flanked with pyra- 
 midal bastions at regular intervals, and with the traces of gate- 
 ways, draw-bridges and towers. It was formerly surrounded 
 by a deep moat. Within this space, which may be a quarter 
 of a mile square, are a few fragments of buildings, and toward 
 the sea, some high arches and masses of masonry. The plain 
 around abounds with traces of houses, streets, and court-yards. 
 Ceesarea was one of the Roman colonies, but owed its prospe- 
 
44 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 rity principally to Herod. St. Paul passed through it on hia 
 way from Macedon to Jerusalem, by the very road we were 
 trayelling. 
 
 During the day the path struck inland over a vast rolling 
 plain, covered with sage, lavender and other sweet-smelling 
 shrubs, and tenanted by herds of gazelles and flocks of large 
 storks. As we advanced further, the landscape became singu- 
 larly beautiful. It was a broad, shallow valley, swelling away 
 towards the east into low, rolling hills, far back of which rose 
 the blue line of the mountains — the hill-country of Judea. 
 The soil, where it was ploughed, was the richest vegetable loam. 
 Where it lay fallow it was entirely hidden by a bed of grass 
 and camomile. Here and there great herds of sheep and goats 
 browsed on the herbage. There was a quiet pastoral air about 
 the landscape, a soft serenity in its forms and colors, as if the 
 Hebrew patriarchs still made it their abode. The district is 
 famous for robbers, and we kept our arms in readiness, never 
 Buffering the baggage to be out of our sight. 
 
 Towards evening, as Mr. H. and myself, with Frangois, 
 were riding in advance of the baggage mules, the former with 
 his gun in his hand, I with a pair of pistols thrust through the 
 folds of my shawl, and Frangoig with his long Turkish sabre, 
 we came suddenly upon a lonely Englishman, whose com- 
 panions were somewhere in the rear. He appeared to- be 
 struck with terror on seeing us making towards him, and, 
 turning his horse's head, made an attempt to fly. The animal, 
 however, was restive, and, after a few plunges, refused to 
 move. The traveller gave himself up for lost ; his arms 
 dropped by his side ; he stared wildly at us, with pale face 
 and eyes opened wide with a look of helpless fright. Restrain- 
 
XL HAKAM. 45 
 
 ing with difficulty a siiout of laughter, I said to hini ; " Bid 
 you leave Jaffa to-day ?" but so completely was his ear the 
 fool of his imagination, that he thought I was speaking 
 Arabic, and made a faint attempt to get out the only word or 
 two of that language which he knew. I then repeated, with 
 as much distinctness as I could command : " Did — ^you-^-leave 
 — Jaffa — ^to-day?" He stammered mechanically, through his 
 chattering teeth, " T-y-yes I" and we immediately dashed off 
 at a gallop through the bushes. When we last saw him, he 
 was standing as we left him, apparently not yet recovered 
 from the shock. 
 
 At the little tillage of El Haram, where we spent the 
 night, I visited the tomb of Sultan Ali ebn-Aleym, who is now 
 revered as a saint. It is enclosed in a mosque, crowning the 
 top of a hill. I was admitted into the court-yard without 
 hesitation, though, from the porter styling me "Effendi," he 
 probably took me for a Turk. At the entrance to the inner 
 court, I took off my slippers and walked to the tomb of the 
 Sultan — a square heap of white marble, in a small marble 
 enclosure. In one of the niches in the wall, near the tomb, 
 there is a very old iron box, with a slit in the top. The por- 
 ter informed me that it contained a charm, belonging to Sul- 
 tan Ali, which was of great use in producing rain in times of 
 drouth. 
 
 In the morning we sent our baggage by a short road across 
 the country to this place, and then rode down the beach 
 towards Jaffa. The sun came out bright and hot as we paced 
 along the line of spray, our horses' feet sinking above the fet- 
 locks in pink and purple shells, while the droll sea-crabs sca:ia- 
 pered away from our path, and the blue gelatinous sea-nettlea 
 
46 THE L/.VDB or THE SABACEN. 
 
 were tossed before us by the surge. Our view was confined to 
 the sand-hills — ^sometimes covered with a flood of scarlet pop- 
 pies — on one hand; and to the blue, surf-fringed sea on the 
 other. The terrible coast was still lined with wrecks,, and 
 just before reaching the town, we passed a vessel of some two 
 hundred tons, recently cast ashore, with her strong hull still 
 unbroken. , We forded the rapid stream of' El Anjeh, which 
 comes down from the Plain of Sharon, the water rising to our 
 saddles. The low promontory in front now broke into towers 
 and white domes, and great masses of heavy walls. The 
 aspect of Jaffa is exceedingly picturesque. It is built on a 
 hill, and the land for many miles around it being low and flat, 
 its topmost houses overlook all the fields of Sharon. The old 
 harbor, protected by a reef of rocks, is on the north side of 
 the town, but is now so sanded up that large vessels cannot 
 enter. A number of small craft were lying close to the shore. 
 The port presented a different scene when the ships of Hiram, 
 King of Tyre, came in with the materials for the Temple of 
 Solomon. There is but one gate on the land side, which 
 is rather strongly fortified^ Outside of this there is an open 
 space, which we found filled with venders of oranges and vege- 
 tables, camel-men and the like, some vociferating in loud dis- 
 pute, some ^ven up to silence and smoke, under the shade of 
 the sycamores. 
 
 We rode under the heavily arched and towered gateway, 
 and entered the bazaar. The street was crowded, and there 
 was such a confusion of camels, donkeys, and men, that 
 we made our way with diflSculty along the only practicable 
 street in the city, to the sea-side, where Frangois pointed out 
 a hole in the wall as the veritable spot where Jonah was cast 
 
JAFFA. 4t 
 
 ashore by the whale. This part of the harbor is the recep- 
 tacle of all the offal of the town ; and I do not wonder 
 that the whale's stomach should have turned on approaching 
 it. The sea-street was filled with merchants and traders, and 
 we were obliged to pick our way between bars of iron, skins 
 of oil, heaps of oranges, and piles of building timber. At last 
 we reached the end, and, as there was no other thoroughfare, 
 returned the same way we went, passed out the gate, and took 
 the road to Ramleh and Jerusalem. 
 
 But ,1 hear the voice of Frangois, announcing, " Messieurs, le 
 Amir est prk." We are encamped just beside the pool of 
 Ramleh, and the mongrel children of the town are making 
 a great noise in the meadow below it. Our horses are enjoy- 
 ing their barley ; and Mustapha stands at the tent-door tying 
 up his sacks. Dogs are barking and donkeys braying all 
 along the borders of the town, whose filth and dilapidation 
 are happily concealed by the fig and olive gardens which sur- 
 round it. I have not curiosity enough to visit the Greek and 
 Latin Convents embedded in its foul purlieus, but content 
 myself with gazing from my door upon the blue hills of 
 Palestine, which we must cross to-morrow, on our way to 
 Jerusalem. 
 
'S THE LANDS OF THE SARACKN. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FROM JAFFA TO J E R U S A L E U . 
 
 The Garden of Jaffa— Breakfast at a Fountain— The Plain of Sharon— The Ruined 
 Moaque of Ramleh— A Judean Landscape— The Streets of Ramleh— Am I in Palea- 
 tine?— A Heavenly Morning- The Land of Milk and Honey— Entering the Ulll- 
 Oountry— The Pilgrim's Breakfast— The Father of Lies— A Church of the Crusaders 
 —The Agriculture of the Hills— The Valley of Blah— Day-Dreams— The Wilderness 
 — The Approach — We see the Holy City. 
 
 " Through the air sublime, 
 
 Over the wilderness and o'er the plain ; 
 Till underneath them fair Jerusalem, 
 The Holy City, lifted high her towers." 
 
 Pasadiss RBailNSB. 
 
 jBKuaumi, Ttmreday, April 29, 1S62. 
 
 Leaving the gate of Jaffa, we rode eastward between delight- 
 fnl gardens of fig, citron, orange, pomegranate and palm. The 
 country for several miles around the city is a complete level — 
 part of the great plain of Sharon — and the gray mass of 
 building crowning the little promontory, is the only landmark 
 seen above the green garden-land, on looking towards the sea* 
 The road was lined with hedges of giant cactus, now in blos- 
 som, and shaded occasionally with broad-armed sycamores. 
 The orange trees were in bloom, and at the same time laden 
 down with ripe fruit. The oranges of Jaffa are the finest in 
 Syria, and great numbers of i;J)e,m are sent to Beyrout and 
 
THE PLAIN OP SHAKON. 49 
 
 Other ports further north. The dark foliage of the pome- 
 granate fairly blazed with its heavy scarlet blossoms, and here 
 and there a cluster of roses made good the Scriptural renown 
 of those of Sharon. The road was filled with people, passing 
 to and fro, and several families of Jaffa Jews were having a 
 sort of pic-nic in the choice shady spots. 
 
 Ere long we came to a fountain, at a point where two roads 
 met. It was a large square structure of limestone and marble, 
 with a stone trough in front, and a delightful open chamber at 
 the side. The space in front was shaded with immense syca- 
 more trees, to which we tied our horses, and then took our seats 
 in the .window above the fountain, where the Greek brought us 
 our breakfast. The water was cool and delicious, as were our 
 Jaffa oranges. • It was a charming spot, for as we sat we could 
 look under the boughs of the great trees, and down between 
 the gardens to Jaffa and the Mediterranean. After leaving 
 the gardens, we came upon the great plain of Sharon, on which 
 we could see the husbandmen at work far and near, ploughing 
 and sowing their grain. In some instances, the two operations 
 were made simultaneously, by having a sort of fimnel attached 
 to the plough-handle, running into a tube which entered the 
 earth just behind the share. The man held the plough with 
 one hand, while with the other he dropped the requisite quan- 
 tity of seed through the tube into the furrow. The people are 
 ploughing now for their summer crops, and the wheat and bar- 
 ley which they sowed last winter are already in full head. On 
 other parts of the plain, there were large flocks of sheep and 
 goats, with their attendant shepherds. So ran the rich land- 
 scape, broken only by belts of olive trees, to the far hills of 
 Judea. 
 
50 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 Riding on over the long, low swells, fragrant with wild 
 thyme and camomile, we saw at last the tower of Ramleh, and 
 down the valley, an hour's ride to the north-east, the minaret 
 of Ludd, the ancient Lydda. Still further, I could see the 
 houses of the village of Sharon, embowered in olives. 'Ramleh 
 is built along the crest and on the eastern slope of a low hill, 
 and at a distance appears like a stately place, but this impres- 
 sion is immediately dissipated on entering it. West of the 
 town is a large square tower, between eighty and ninety feet in 
 height. We rode up to it through an orchard of ancient olive 
 trees, and over a field of beans. The tower is evidently a min- 
 aret, as it is buUt in the purest Saracenic style, and is sur- 
 rounded by the ruins of a mosque. I have rarely seen any- 
 thing more graceful than the ornamental arches of the upper 
 portions. Over the door is a lintel of white marble, with an 
 Arabic inscription. The mosque to which the tower is attached 
 is almost entirely destroyed, and only part of the arches of a 
 corridor around three sides of a court-yard, with the fountain 
 in the centre, still remain. The subterranean cisterns, under 
 the court-yard, amazed me with their extent and magnitude. 
 They are no less than twenty-four feet deep, and covered by 
 iwenty-four vaulted ceilings, each twelve feet square, and rest- 
 ing on massive pillars. The mosque, when entire, must have 
 been one of the finest in Syria. 
 
 We clambered over the broken stones cumbering the entrance, 
 and mounted the steps to the very summit. The view reached 
 from Jaffa and the sea to the mountains near Jerusalem, and 
 southward to the plain of Ascalon — a great expanse of grain 
 and grazing land, all blossoming as the rose, and dotted, espe- 
 cially near the mountains, with dark, luxuriant olive^oves. 
 
AM I IN PALESTINE? 51 
 
 The landscape had something of the green, pastoral beauty of 
 England, except the mountains, which were wholly of Palestine. 
 The shadows of fleecy clouds, drifting slowly from east to west, 
 moved across the landscape, which became every moment softer 
 and fairer in the light of the declinmg sun. 
 
 I did not tarry in Ramleh. The streets are narrow, crooked, 
 and filthy as only an Oriental town can be. The houses have 
 either flat roofs or domes, out of the crevices in which springs 
 a plentiful crop of weeds. Some yellow dogs barked at us as 
 we passed, children in tattered garments stared, and old tur- 
 baned heads were raised from the pipe, to guess who the two 
 brown individuals might be, and why they were attended by 
 such a fierce cawass. Passmg through the eastern gate, we 
 were gladdened by the sight of our tents, already pitched in 
 the meadow beside the cistern. Dervish had arrived an hour 
 before us, and had everything ready for the sweet lounge of an 
 hour, to which we treat ourselves after a day's ride. I watched 
 the evening fade away over the blue hills before us, and tried 
 to convince myself that I should reach Jerusalem on the mor- 
 •row. Reason said : " You certainly will 1" — ^but to Paith the 
 Holy City was as far off as ever. Was it possible that I was 
 in Judea ? Was this the Holy Land of the Crusades, the soil 
 hallowed by the feet of Christ and his Apostles ? I must 
 believe it. Yet it seemed once that if I ever trod that earth, 
 then beneath my feet, there would be thenceforth a consecra- 
 tion in my hfe, a holy essence, a purer inspiration on the lips, 
 a surer faith in the heart. And because I was not Other than 
 I had been, I half doubted whether it was the Palestine of 
 my dreams. 
 
 A number of Arab cameleers, who had come with travellers 
 
52 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 across the Desert from Egypt, were encamped near us. Fran- 
 5ois was suspicious of some of them, and therefore divided the 
 night into three watches, which were kept by himself and our 
 two men. Mnstapha was the last, and kept not only himself, 
 but myself, wide awake by his dolorous chants of love and reli- 
 gion. I fell sound asleep at dawn, but was roused before 
 sunrise by iFiangois, who wished to start betimes, on account 
 of the rugged road we had to travel. The morning was 
 mild, clear, and balmy, and we were soon packed and in 
 motion. Leaving the baggage to follow, we rode ahead 
 over the fertile fields. The wheat and poppies were glistening 
 with dew, birds sang among the fig-trees, a cool breeze came 
 down from the hollows of the hUls, and my blood leaped 
 as nimbly and joyously as a young hart on the mountains of 
 Bether. 
 
 Between Ramleh and the hill-country,, a distance of about 
 eight mites, is the rolling plain of Arimathea, and this, as well 
 as the greater part of the plain of Sharon, is one of the richest 
 districts in the world. The soil is a dark-brown loam, and, 
 without manure, produces annually superb crops of wheat and 
 barley. We rode for miles through a sea of wheat, waving 
 far and wide over the swells of land. The tobacco in the fields 
 about Ramleh was the most luxuriant I ever saw, and the 
 olive and fig attain a size and lusty strength wholly unknown 
 in Italy. Judea cursed of God I what a misconception, not 
 only of God's mercy and beneficence, but of the actual fact I 
 Give Palestine into Christian hands, and it vrill again flow with 
 milk and honey. Except some parts of Asia Minor, no por- 
 tion of the Levant is capable of yielding such a harvest of 
 grain, silk, wool, fruits, oil, and wine. The great disadvantage 
 
ENTERING THE HILL-OODNTRT. 53 
 
 under which the country labors, is its frequent drouths, 
 but were the soil more generally cultivated, and the old 
 orchards replanted, these would neither be so frequent nor so 
 severe. 
 
 We gradually ascended the hills, passmg one or two villages, 
 imbedded in groves of olives. In the little valleys, slanting 
 down to the plains, the Arabs were still ploughing and sowing, 
 singing the while an old love-song, with its chorus of "ya, 
 gkazake! ya, ghazake!" (oh, gazelle I oh, gazelle!) The valley 
 narrowed, the lowlands behind us spread out broader, and in 
 half an hour more we were threading a narrow pass, between 
 stony hiUs, overgrown with ilex, myrtle, and dwarf oak. The 
 wild purple rose of Palestine blossomed on all sides, and a fra- 
 grant white honeysuckle ia some places hung from tiie rocks. 
 The path was terribly rough, and barely wide enough for two 
 persons on horseback to pass each other. We met a few pil- 
 grims returning from Jerusalem, and a straggling company of 
 armed Turks, who had such a piratical air, that without the 
 solemn asseveration of Frangois that the road was quite safe, 
 I should have felt uneasy about our baggage. Most of the 
 persons we passed were Mussulmen, few of whom gave the 
 customary " Peace be with you I" but once a Syrian Christian 
 saluted me with, " God go with you, O Pilgrim I" For 
 two hours after entering the mountains, there was scarcely 
 a sign of cultivation. The rock was limestone, or marble, 
 lying in horizontal strata, the broken edges of which rose like 
 terraces to the summits. These shelves were so covered with 
 wild shrubs — ^in some places even with rows of olive trees — 
 that to me they had not the least appearance of that desolor 
 tion so generally ascribed to them. 
 
54 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 In a little dell among the hills there is a small ruined mosqne, 
 or chapel (I could not decide which), shaded by a group of 
 magnificent terebinth trees. Several Arabs were resting in its 
 shade, and we hoped to find there the water we were looking 
 for, in order to make breakfast. But it was not to be found, 
 and we climbed nearly to the summit of the first chain of hills, 
 where in a small olive orchard, there was a cistern, filled by 
 the late rains. It belonged to two ragged boys, who brought 
 us an earthen vessel of the water, and then asked, " Shall we 
 bring you milk, Pilgrims 1" I assented, and received a small 
 jug of thick buttemulk, not remarkably clean, but very refresh- 
 ing. My companion, who had not recovered from his horror at 
 finding that the inhabitants of Eamleh washed themselves in 
 the pool which supplied us and them, refused to touch it. We 
 made but a short rest, for it was now nearly noon, and there 
 were yet many rough miles between as and Jerusalem. We 
 crossed the first chain of mountains, rode a short distance over 
 a stony upland, and then descended into a long cultivated 
 valley, running to the eastward. At the end nearest us 
 appeared the village of Aboo '1 Ghosh (the Father of Lies), 
 which takes its name from a noted Bedouin shekh, who distin- 
 guished himself a few years ago by levying contributions on 
 travellers. He obtained a large sum of money in this "way, 
 but as he added murder to robbery, and fell upon Turks as 
 well as Christians, he was finally captured, and is now expi- 
 ating his offences in some mine on the coast of the Black 
 Sea. 
 
 Near the bottom of the village there is a large ruined build- 
 ing, now used as a stable by the inhabitants. The interior is 
 divided into a nave and two side-aisles by rows of square 
 
AGHICULTURK OF THE HILLS. 55 
 
 pillars, from which spring pointed arches. The door-way is at 
 the side,- and is Gothic, with a dash of Saracenic in the orna- 
 mental mouldings above it. The large window at the extremity 
 of the nave is remarkable for having round arches, which circum- 
 stance, together with the traces of arabesque painted ornaments 
 on the columns, led me to think it might have been a mosque ; 
 but Dr. Robinson, who is now here, considers it a Christian 
 church, of the time of the Crusaders. The village of Aboo '1 
 Ghosh is said to be the site of the birth-place of the Prophet 
 Jeremiah, and I can well imagine it to have been the case. 
 The aspect of the mountain-country to the east and north-east 
 would explain the savage dreariness of his lamentations. The 
 whole valley in which the village stands, as well as another 
 which joins it on. the east, is most assiduously cultivated. The 
 stony mountain sides are wrought into terraces, where, in spite 
 of soil which resembles an American turnpike, patches of 
 wheat are growing luxuriantly, and olive trees, centuries old, 
 hold on to the rocks with a clutch as hard and bony as the 
 hand of Death. In the bed of the valley the fig tree thrives, 
 and sometimes the vine and fig grow together, forming the 
 t)atriarchal arbor of shade familiar to us all. The shoots of 
 the tree are stiD young and green, but the blossoms of the 
 grape do not yet give forth their goodly savor. I did not hear 
 the voice of the turtle, but a nightingale sang in the briery 
 thickets by the Brook side, as we passed along. 
 
 Climbing out of this valley, we descended by a stony stair- 
 case, as rugged as the Ladder of Tyre, into the Wady Beit- 
 Hanineh. Here were gardens of oranges in blossom, with 
 orchards of quince and apple, overgrown with vines, and the 
 fragrant hawthorn tree, snowy with its bloom. A stone 
 
66 THE LAND3 OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 bridge, the only one on the road, crosses the dry bed of a 
 winter stream, and, looking up the glen, I saw the Arab 
 village of Kulonieh, at the entrance of the valley of Elah, 
 glorions with the memories of the shepherd-boy, David. Our 
 road turned off to the right, and commenced ascending a long, 
 dry glen between mountains which grew more sterile the 
 further we went. It was nearly two hours past noon, the sun 
 fiercely hot, and our horses were nigh jaded out with the rough 
 road and our impatient spurring. I began to fancy we could 
 see Jerusalem from the top of the pass, and tried to think of 
 the ancient days of Judea. But it was in vain. A newer 
 picture shut them out, and banished even the diviner images 
 of Our Sftviour and His Disciples. Heathen that I was, I 
 could only think of Godfrey and the Crusaders, toUing up the 
 same path, and the ringing lines of Tasso vibrated constantly 
 in my ear : 
 
 " Eoco apparir Gierusalemm' si vede ; 
 Ecoo additar Gierusalemm' si scorge ; 
 Eoco da mille voci unitamente, 
 Gierusalemme salutar si sente 1" 
 
 The Palestine of the Bible— the Land of Promise to ths 
 Israelites, the land of Miracle and Sacrifice to the Apostles 
 and their followers — still slept in the- unattainable distance, 
 under a sky of bluer and more tranquil loveliness than that to 
 whose cloudless vault I looked up. It lay as far and beautiful 
 *s it once seemed to the eye of childhood, and the swords of 
 Seraphim kept profane feet from its sacred hills. But these 
 rough rocks around me, these dry, fiery hollows, these thickets 
 of ancient oak and ilex, had heard the trumpets of the Mddle 
 
THE AITROACH TO THE HOLT CITY. 5T 
 
 Ages, and the clang and clatter of European armor — I could 
 feel and believe that. I entered the ranks ; I followed the 
 trumpets and the holy hymns, and waited breathlessly for the 
 moment when every mailed knee should drop in the dust, and 
 every bearded and sunburned cheek be wet with devotional 
 tears. 
 
 But when I climbed the last ridge, and looked ahead with 
 a sort of painful suspense, Jerusalem did not appear. We 
 were two thousand feet above the Mediterranean, whose blue 
 we could dimly see far to the west, through notches in the 
 chain of hills. To the north, the mountains were gray, 
 desolate, and awful. Not a shrub or a tree relieved their 
 frightfiil barrenness. An upland tract, covered with white 
 volcanic rock, lay before us. We met peasants with asses, who 
 looked (to my eyes) as if they had just left Jerusalem. Still 
 forward we urged our horses, and reached a ruined garden, 
 surrounded with hedges of cactus, over which I saw domes 
 and walls in the distance. I drew a long breath and looked at 
 Frangois. He was jogging along without turning his head ; 
 he could not have been so indifferent if that was really the 
 city. Presently, we reached another slight rise in the rocky 
 plain. He began to urge his panting horse, and at the same 
 instant we both lashed the spirit into ours, dashed on at a 
 break-neck gallop, round the corner of an old wall on the top 
 of the hill, and lo ! the Holy City 1 Our Greek jerked both 
 pistols from his holsters, and fired them into the air, as we 
 reined up on the steep. 
 
 From the descriptions of travellers, I had expected to see in 
 Jerusalem an ordinary modern Turkish town ; but that before 
 me, with its walls, fortresses, and domes, was it not still the 
 
 3* 
 
58 THE LAND3 OP THE SAEACEN. 
 
 City of David ? I saw the Jerusalem of the New Testament, 
 as I had imagined it. Long lines of walls crowned with a 
 notched parapet and strengthened by towers; a few domes and 
 spires above them; clusters of cypress here and there; this 
 was all that was visible of the city. On either side the hOl 
 sloped down to the two deep valleys over which it hangs. On 
 the east, the Mount of Olives, crowned with a chapel and 
 mosque, rose high and steep, but in front, the eye passed 
 directly over the city, to rest far away upon the lofty moun- 
 tains of Moab, beyond the Dead Sea. The scene was grand in 
 its simplicity. The prominent colors were the purple of those 
 distant mountains, and the hoary gray of the nearer hills. The 
 walls were of the dull yellow of weather-stained marble, and 
 the only trees, the dark cypress and moonlit olive. Now, 
 indeed, for one brief moment, I knew that I was in Palestine ; 
 that I saw Mount Olivet and Mount Zion; and — ^I know not 
 how it was — my sight grew weak, and all objects trembled and 
 wavered in a watery film. Since we arrived, I have looked 
 down upon the city from the Mount of Olives, and up to it 
 from the Valley of Jehosaphat; but I cannot restore the 
 illusion of that first view. 
 
 We allowed our horses to walk slowly down the remaining 
 half-mile to the Jaffa gate. An Englishman, with a red silk 
 shawl over his head, was sketching the city, while an Arab 
 held an umbrella over him. Inside the gate we stumbled upon 
 an Italian shop with an Italian sign, and after threading a 
 number of intricate passages under dark archways, and being 
 turned off from one hotel, which was full of travellers, reached 
 another, kept by a converted German Jew, where we found Dr. 
 Robinson and Dr. Ely Smith, who both arrived yesterday. It 
 
JBBUSALEK. 59 
 
 Bounds strange to talk of a hotel in Jerusalem, but the world 
 is progressing, and there are already three. I leave to-mor- 
 row for Jericho, the Jordan, and the Dead Sea, and shall have 
 more to say of Jerusalem on my return. 
 
60 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IHE DEAD SEA AND THE RIVEE JORDAN. 
 
 Bargaining for a Guard— Departure from Jerusalem— The Hill of Offence — ^Bethany— 
 The Grotto of tazarua— The Valley of Fire — Scenery of the Wilderness — The Hills of 
 Engaddi — The shore of the Dead Sea — ^A Bituminous Bath — Gallop to the Jordan — 
 A watch for Robbers — The Jordan — Baptism— The Plains of Jericho — The Fountain 
 of Elisha — ^The Mount of Temptation — ^Return to Jerusalem. 
 
 " And the spoiler shall come upon every city, and no city shall escape ; the valley 
 also shall perish and the plain shall be destroyed, as the Lord hath spoken." — 
 
 JEBEMIAH, ^Tiii. 8. 
 
 j£iiIiSAi.E:ii, May 1,1B52. 
 
 I RETURNED tMs aftemoon from an excursion to the Dead Sea, 
 the River Jordan, and the site of Jericho. Owing to the 
 approaching heats, an early visit was deemed desirable, and the 
 shekhs, who have charge of the road, were summoned to meet 
 us on the day after we arrived. There are two of these 
 gentlemen, the Shekh el-Arab (of the Bedouins), and the 
 Shekh el-Pellaheen (of the peasants, or husbandmen), to whom 
 each traveller is obliged to pay one hundered piastres for an 
 escort. It is, in fact, a sort of compromise, by which the 
 shekhs agree not to rob the traveller, and to protect him 
 against other shekhs. If the road is not actually safe, the 
 Turkish garrison here is a mere farce, but the arrangement is 
 winked at by the Pasha, who, of course, gets his share of the 
 
DEPARTOKE FBOM JERUSALEM. 61 
 
 100,000 piastres which the two scamps yearly levy upon 
 travellers. The shekhs came to our rooms, and after trying to 
 postpone our departure, in order to attach other tourists to the 
 same escort, and thus save a little expense, took half the pay 
 and agreed to be ready the next morning. Unfortunately for 
 my original plan, the Convent of San Saba has been closed 
 within two or three weeks, and no stranger is now admitted. 
 This unusual step was caused by the disorderly conduct of some 
 Frenchmen who visited San Saba. We sent to the Bishop of 
 the Greek Chm-ch, asking a simple permission to view the 
 interior of the Convent; but without effect. 
 
 We left the city yesterday morning by St. Stephen's Gate, 
 descended to the Valley of Jehosaphat, rode under the stone 
 wall which encloses the supposed Gethsemane, and took a path 
 leading along the Mount of Olives, towards the Hill of 
 Offence, which stands over against the southern end of the city, 
 opposite the mouth of the Vale of Hinnon. Neither of the 
 shekhs made his appearance, but sent in their stead three 
 Arabs, two of whom were mounted and armed with sabres and 
 long guns. Our man, Mustapha, had charge of the baggage- 
 mule, carrying our tent and the provisions for the trip. It was 
 a dull, sultry morning ; a dark, leaden haze hung over Jerusa- 
 lem, and the khamseen, or sirocco-wind, came from the south- 
 west, out of the Arabian Desert. We had again resumed the 
 Oriental costume, but in spite of an ample turban, my face 
 soon began to scorch in the dry heat. Prom the crest of the 
 Hill of Offence there is a wide view over the heights on both 
 sides of the valley of the Brook Kedron. Their sides are 
 worked into terraces, now green with springmg gram, and near 
 the bottom planted with olive and fig trees. The upland ridge 
 
62 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 or watershed of Palestine is cultivated for a considerable 
 distance around Jerusalem. The soil is light and stony, yet 
 appears to yield a good return for the little labor bestowed 
 upon it. 
 
 Crossing the southern flank of Mount Olivet, in half an hour 
 we reached the village of Bethany, hanging on the side of the 
 hill. It is a miserable cluster of Arab huts, with not a buildmg 
 which appears to be more than a century old. The Grotto of 
 Lazarus is here shown, and, of course, we stopped to see it. 
 It belongs to an old Mussulman, who came out of his house with 
 a piece of waxed rope, to light us down. An aperture opens 
 from the roadside into the hill, and there is barely room enough 
 for a person to enter. Descending about twenty steps at a 
 sharp angle, we landed in a small, damp vault, with an opening 
 in the floor, communicating with a short passage below. The 
 vault was undoubtedly excavated for sepulchral purposes, and 
 the bodies were probably deposited (as in many Egyptian 
 tombs) in the pit under it. Our guide, however, pointed to a 
 square mass of masonry in one corner as the tomb of Lazarus, 
 whose body, he informed us, was still walled up there. There 
 was an arch in the side of the vault, -once leadmg to other 
 chambers, but now closed np, and the guide stated that 
 seventy-four Prophets were interred therein. There seems to 
 be no doubt that the present Arab village occupies the site of 
 Bethany; and if it could be proved that this pit existed at the 
 beginning of the Christian Era, and there never had been any 
 other, we might accept it as the tomb of Lazarus. On the 
 crest of a high hill, over against Bethany, is an Arab village on 
 the site of Betl^age. 
 
 We descended into the valley of a winter stream, now filled 
 
THE VALLEY OP TIRE. 63 
 
 with patches of sparse wheat, just beginning to ripen. The 
 mountains grew more bleak and desolate as we advanced, and 
 as there is a regular descent in the several ranges over which 
 one must pass, the distant hills of the lands of Moab and 
 Ammon were always in sight, rising like a high, blue wall 
 against the sky. The Dead Sea is 4,000 feet below Jerusa- 
 lem, but the general slope of the intervening district is so 
 regular that from the spires of the city, and the Mount of 
 Olives, one can look down directly upon its waters. This 
 deceived me as to the actual distance, and I could scarcely 
 credit the assertion of our Arab escort, that it would require 
 six hours to reach it. After we had ridden nearly two hours, 
 we left the Jericho road, sending Mustapha and a staunch old 
 Arab direct to our resting-place for the night, in the Valley of 
 the Jordan. The two mounted Bedouins accompanied us across 
 the rugged mountains lying between us and the Dead Sea. 
 
 At first, we took the way to the Convent of Mar Saba, fol- 
 lowing the course of the Brook Kedron down the Wady 
 en-Nar (Yalley of Fire). In half an hour more we reached 
 two large tanks, hewn out under the base of a limestone cliff, 
 and nearly filled with rain. The surface was covered with a 
 greenish vegetable scum, and three wild and dirty Arabs 
 of the hills were washing themselves in the principal one. 
 Our Bedouins immediately dismounted and followed their 
 example, and after we had taken some refreshment, we had 
 the satisfaction of filling our water-jug from the same sweet 
 pool. After this, we left the San Saba road, and mounted the 
 height east of the valley. From that point, all signs of culti- 
 vation and habitation disappeared. The mountains were grim, 
 bare, and frig!itfully rugged. The scanty grass, coaxed into life 
 
64 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 by the winter rains, was already scorched out of all greenness; 
 some bunches of wUd sage, gnaphalium, and other hardy aro- 
 matic herbs spotted the yellow soil, and in sheltered places the 
 scarlet poppies burned like coals of fire among the rifts of the 
 gray limestone rock. Our track kept along the higher 
 ridges and crests of the hills, between the glens and gorges 
 which sank on- either hand to a dizzy depth below, and were 
 so steep as to be almost inaccessible. The region is so 
 scarred, gashed and torn, that no work of man's hand can 
 save it from perpetual desolation. It is a wilderness more 
 hopeless than the Desert. If I were left alone in the midst 
 of it, I should lie down and await death, without thought or 
 hope of rescue. 
 
 The character of the day was peculiarly suited to enhance 
 the impression of such scenery. Though there were no clouds, 
 the sun was invisible : as far as we could see, beyond the Jor- 
 dan, and away southward to the mountains of Moab and 
 the cliffs of Engaddi, the whole country was covered as with 
 the smoke of a furnace ; and the furious sirocco, that threat- 
 ened to topple us down the gulfs yawning on either hand, had 
 no coolness on its wings. The horses were sure-footed, but 
 now and then a gust would come that made them and us 
 strain agamst it, to avoid being dashed against the rock On 
 one side, or hurled off the brink on the other. The atmos- 
 phere was painfully oppressive, and by and by a dogged 
 silence took possession of our party. After passing a lofty 
 peak which Frangois called Djebel Nuttar, the Mountam 
 of Eain, we came to a large Moslem building, situated on 
 a bleak eminence, overlooking part of the valley of the Jordan. 
 This is the tomb called Nebbee Moussa by the Arabs, and 
 
THK SHOKE OP THE DEAD SEA. 65 
 
 believed by them to stand upon the spot where. Moses died. 
 We halted at the gate, but no one came to admit us, though 
 my companion thought he saw a man's head at one of the aper- 
 tures in the wall. Arab tradition here is as much at fault as 
 Christian tradition in many other places. The true Nebo is 
 somewhere in the cha;in of Pisgah; and though, probably, 
 I saw it, and all see it who go down to the Jordan, yet " no 
 man knoweth its place unto this day." 
 
 Beyond Nebbee Moussa, we came out upon, the last heights 
 overlooking the Dead Sea, though several miles of low 
 hills remained to be passed; The head of the sea was visible 
 as far as the Eas-el-Peshka on the west, and the hot fountains 
 of Callirhoe on the eastern shore. Farther than this, all was 
 vapor and darkness. The water was a soft, deep purple hue, 
 brightening into blue. Onr road led down what seemed a vast 
 sloping causeway from the mountains, between two ravines, 
 walled by cliffs several hundred feet in height. It gradually 
 flattened into a plain, covered with a white, saline incrus- 
 tation, and grown with clumps of sour willow, tamarisk, and 
 other shrubs, among which I looked in vain .for the osher, or 
 Dead Sea apple. The plants appeared as if smitten with 
 leprosy; but there were some flowers growing almost to the 
 margin of the sea. We reached the shore about 2 p.m. 
 The heat by this time was most severe, and the air so dense as 
 to occasion pains in my ears. The Dead Sea is 1,300 feet 
 below the Mediterranean, and without doubt the lowest part 
 of the earth's surface. I attribute the oppression I felt to this 
 fact and to the sultriness of the day, rather than to any exha- 
 lation from the sea itself. Frangois remarked, however, that 
 had the wind — which by this time was veering round to 
 
66 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 the north-east — ^blown from the south, we could scarcely hare 
 endured it. The sea resembles a great cauldron, sunk between 
 mountains from three to four thousand feet in height; and pro- 
 bably we did not experience more than a tithe of the summer 
 heat. 
 
 I proposed a bath, for the sake of experiment, but Frangois 
 endeavored to dissuade us. He had tried it, and nothing 
 could be more disagreeable ; we risked getting a fever, 
 and, besides, there were four hours of dangerous travel yet 
 before us. But by this time we were half undressed, and 
 soon were floating on the clear bituminous waves. The beach 
 was fine gravel and shelved gradually down. I kept my 
 turban on my head, and was careful to avoid touching the 
 water with my face. The sea was moderately warm and 
 gratefully soft and soothing to the skin. It was impossible to 
 sink ; and even while swimming, the body rose half out of the 
 water. I should think it possible to dive for a short distance, 
 but prefer that some one else would try the experiment. 
 With a log of wood for a pillow, one might sleep as on one of 
 the patent mattresses. The taste of the water is salty and 
 pungent, and stings the tongue like saltpetre. We were 
 obliged to dress in all haste, without even wiping off the 
 detestable liquid ; yet I experienced very little of that dis- 
 comfort which most travellers have remarked. Where the 
 skin had been previously bruised, there was a sKght smarting 
 sensation, and my body felt clammy and glutinous, but the 
 bath was rather refreshing than otherwise. 
 
 We turned our horses' heads towards the Jordan, and rods 
 on over a dry, barren plain. The two Bedouins at first 
 dashed ahead at uU gallop, uttering cries, and whirling their 
 
A WATCH FOR EOBBEES. 67 
 
 long guns in the air. The dust they raised was blown in our 
 faces, and contained so much salt that my eyes began to smart 
 painfully. Thereupon I followed them at an equal rate of speed, 
 and we left a long cloud of the accursed soil whirling behind 
 us. Presently, however, they fell to the rear, and continued to 
 keep at some distance from us. The reason of this was soon 
 explained. The path turned eastward, and we already saw a 
 line of dusky green winding through the wilderness. This was 
 the Jordan, and the mountains beyond, the home of robber 
 Arabs, were close at hand. Those robbers frequently cross 
 the river and conceal themselves behind the sand-hills on this 
 side. Our brave escort was, therefore, inclmed to put us for- 
 ward as a forlorn-hope, and secure their own retreat in case of 
 an attack. But as we were all well armed, and had never consi- 
 dered their attendance as anything more than a genteel way 
 of buying them off from robbing us, we allowed them to lag as 
 much as they chose. Finally, as we approached the Pilgrims' 
 Ford, one of them took his station at some distance from the 
 river, on the top of a mound, while the other got behind some 
 trees near at hand ; in order, as they said, to watch the oppo- 
 site hills, and alarm us whenever they should see any of the 
 Beni Sukrs, or the Beni Adwams, or the Tyakh, coming down 
 upon us. 
 
 The Jordan at this point will not average more than ten 
 yards in breadth. It flows at the bottom of a gully about fif- 
 teen feet deep, which traverses the broad valley in a most tor- 
 tuous course. The water has a white, clayey hue, and is very 
 swift. The changes of the current have formed islands and 
 beds of soil here and there, which are covered with a dense 
 growth of ash, poplar, willow, a,Dd tamarisk trees. The banka 
 
68 THE LAKDS OF TEE SAEACEN. 
 
 of the river are bordered with thickets, now overgrown with 
 wild vines, and fragrant with flowering plants. Birds sing 
 continually in the cool, dark coverts of the trees. I found a 
 singular charm in the wild, lonely, luxuriant banks, the tangled 
 undergrowth, and the rapid, brawling course of the sacred 
 stream, as it slipped in sight and out of sight among the trees. 
 It is almost impossible to reach the water' at any other 
 point than the Ford of the Pilgrims, the supposed locality 
 of the passage of the Israelites and the baptism of Christ. 
 The plain near it is still blackened by the camp-fires of the ten 
 thousand pilgrims who went down from Jerusalem three weeks 
 ago, to bathe. We tied our horses to the trees, and prepared 
 to follow their example, which was necessary, if only to wash off 
 the iniquitous slime of the Dead Sea. Francois, in the mean- 
 time, fiUed two tin flasks from the stream and stowed them in 
 the saddle-bags. The current was so swift, that one could not 
 venture far without the risk of being carried away ; but I suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining a complete and most refreshing immersion. 
 The taint of Gomorrah was not entirely washed away, but I 
 rode off with as great a sense of relief as if the baptism had 
 been a moral one, as well, and had purified me &om sin. 
 
 We rode for nearly two hours, in a north-west direction, to 
 the Bedouin village of Kihah, near the site of ancient Jericho. 
 Before reaching it, the gray salt waste vanishes, and the soil is 
 covered with grass and herbs. The barren character of the 
 first region is evidently owing to "deposits from the vapors of 
 the Dea Sea, as they are blown over the plain by the south 
 wind. The channels of streams around Jericho are filled with 
 nebbuk trees, the fruit of which is just ripening. It is appa- 
 rently indigenous, and grows more luxuriantly than on the 
 
CAMP AT JERICHO. 69 
 
 White Nile. It is a variety of the rharmms, and is set down 
 by botanists as the Spina Christi, of which the Saviour's mock 
 crown of thorns was made. I see no reason to doubt this, as 
 the twigs are long and pliant, and armed with small, though 
 most cruel, thorns. I had to pay for gathering some of the 
 fruit, with a torn dress and bleeding fingers. The little apples 
 which it bears are slightly acid and excellent for alleviating 
 thirst. I also noticed on the plain a variety of the night- 
 shade, with large berries of a golden color. The spring 
 flowers, so plentiful now in all other parts of Palestine, have 
 already disappeared from the Valley of the Jordan. 
 
 Eihah is a vile little village of tents and mud-huts, and the 
 only reUc of antiquity near it is a square tower, which may 
 possibly be of the time of Herod. There are a few gardens 
 in the place, and a grove of superb %'-trees. We found 
 our tent abeady pitched beside a rill which issues from the 
 fountain of Blisha. The evening was very sultry, and the 
 mnsquitoes gave us no rest. We purchased some mUk from 
 an old man who came to the tent, but such was his mistrust 
 of us that he refused to let us keep the earthen vessel contain- 
 ing it until morning. As we had already paid the money to 
 his son, we would not let him take the nulk away until he had 
 brought the money back. He then took a dagger from his 
 waist and threw it before us as security, while he carried off 
 the vessel and returned the price. I have frequently seen the 
 same mistrustful spirit exhibited in Egypt. Our two Bedouins, 
 to whom I gave some tobacco in the evening, manifested their 
 gratitude by stealing the remainder of our stock during the 
 night. 
 
 This morning we followed the stream to its source, tho 
 
70 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 Fountain of Elisha, so called as being probably that healed by 
 the Prophet. If so, the healing was scarcely complete. The 
 water, which gushes up strong and free at the foot of a rocky 
 mound, is warm and slightly brackish. It spreads into a 
 shallow pool, shaded by a fine sycamore tree. Just below, 
 there are some remains of old walls on both sides, and the 
 stream goes roaring away through a rank jungle of canes 
 fifteen feet in height. The precise site of Jericho, I believe, 
 has not been fixed, but " the city of the palm trees," as it was 
 called, was probably on the plain, near some mounds which rise 
 behind the Fountain. Here there are occasional traces of 
 foundation walls, but so ruined as to give no^ clue to the date 
 of their erection. Further towards the mountain there are 
 some arches, which appear to be Saracenic. As we ascended 
 again into the hill-country, I observed several traces of cisterns 
 in the bottoms of ravines, which collect the rains. Herod, as 
 is well known, built many such cisterns near Jericho, where he 
 had a palace. On the first crest, to which we climbed, there is 
 part of a Roman tower yet standing. The view, looking back 
 over the valley of Jordan, is magnificent, extending from the 
 Dead Sea to the mountains of Gilead, beyond the country of 
 Ammon. I thought I could trace the point where the River 
 Tabbok comes down from Mizpeh of Gilead to join the Jordan. 
 The wilderness we now entered was fully as barren, but less 
 rugged than that through which we passed yesterday. The 
 path ascended along the brink of a deep gorge, at the bottom of 
 which a little stream foamed over the rocks. The high, bleak 
 summits towards which we were climbing, are considered by 
 some Biblical geographers to be Mount Quarantana, the scene 
 of Christ's fasting and temptation. After two hours wo 
 
RETURN TO JERUSALEM. 71 
 
 reached the ruins of a large khan or hostlery, under one of the 
 peaks, which Francois stated to be the veritable " high moun- 
 tain " whence the Devil pointed out all the kingdoms of the 
 earth. There is a cave in the rock beside the road, which the 
 superstitious look upon as the orifice out of which his Satanic 
 Majesty issued. We met large numbers of Arab families, with 
 then: flocks, descending from the mountains to take up their 
 summer residence near the Jordan. They were all on foot, 
 except the young children and goats, which were stowed 
 together on the backs of donkeys. The men were armed, and 
 appeared to be of the same tribe as our escort, with whom they 
 had a good understanding. 
 
 The morning was cold and cloudy, and we hurried on over 
 the hills to a fountain in the valley of the Brook Kedron, 
 where we breakfasted. Before we had reached Bethany a rain 
 came down, and the sky hung dark and lowering over Jerusa- 
 lem, as we passed the crest of Mount Olivet. It still rains, 
 and the filthy condition of the city exceeds anything I have 
 Been, even in the Orient. 
 
72 THE LANDS OF THE SABAOXN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CITT OF OHEIST. 
 
 Modern Jerusalem— The Site of the City— Uoant Ziou— Mount SlorSah — ^Ihe Temple— 
 The Talley of Jehosaphat— The Olirea of fiethsemane — ^Ihe Mount of Ollres— Moslem 
 Tradition— Panorama from the Summit— The Interior of the City— The Population- 
 Missions and Missionaries — Ohristianity in Jerusalem— Intolerance — ^Tho Jews of 
 Jerusalem— The Face of Christ— The Church of the Holy Sepulchre— The Holy of 
 Holies— The Sacred Iiocalities— Visions of Christ— The Mosque of Omar— The Holy 
 Man of Timbuctoo— Preparations for Departure. 
 
 **Cut off thy hatr, O Jerusalem, and cast it away, and take up a lamentation in high 
 places; for the Lord hath rejected and forsaken the generation of his wrath.".— 
 Jebbhuh Til. 29. 
 
 " Here pilgrims imam, that strayed so far to seek 
 In Qolgotha him dead, who lires in Heaven," 
 
 MaTOS. 
 
 Jeedsai£u, JUonday, May 8, 1351. 
 
 Since travel is becoming a necessary part of education, and 
 a journey through the Bast is no longer attended with personal 
 risk, Jerusalem will soon be as familiar a station on the grand 
 tour as Paris or Naples. The task of describiug it is already 
 next to superfluous, so thoroughly has the topography of the 
 city been laid down by the surveys of Robinson and the 
 drawings of Roberts. There is little more left for Biblical 
 research. The few places which can be authenticated are 
 now generally accepted, and the many doubtful ones must 
 always be the subjects of speculation and conjecture. There 
 
MODERN JERUSALEM. 73 
 
 IB no new light which can remove the cloud of uucertaiuties 
 wherein one continually wanders. Yet, even rejecting all 
 these with the most skeptical spirit, there still remains enough 
 to make the place sacred in the eyes of every follower of 
 Christ. The city stands on the ancient site ; the Mount of 
 Olives looks down upon it ; the foundations of the Temple of 
 Solomon are on Mount Moriah ; the Pool of Siloam has still 
 a cup of water for those who at noontide go down to the 
 Valley of Jehosaphat ; the ancient gate yet looketh towards 
 Damascus, and of the Palace of Herod, there is a tower which 
 Time and Turk and Crusader have spared. 
 
 Jerusalem is built on the summit ridge of the hill-country 
 of Palestine, just where it begins to slope eastward. Not 
 half a mile from the Jaffa Gate, the waters run towards the 
 Mediterranean. It is about 2,t00 feet above the latter, and 
 4,000 feet above the Dead Sea, to which the descent is much 
 more abrupt. The hiU, or rather group of small mounts, on 
 which Jerusalem stands, slants eastward to the brink of the 
 Valley of Jehosaphat, and the Mount of Olives rises opposite, 
 from the sides and summit of which, one sees the entire city 
 spread out like a map before hiin. The Valley of Hinnon, 
 the bed of which is on a much higher level than that of 
 Jehosaphat, skirts the south-western and southern part of the 
 walls, and drops into the latter valley at the foot of Mount 
 Zion, the most southern of the mounts. The steep slope at 
 the junction of the two valleys is the site of the city of 
 the Jebusites, the most ancient part of Jerusalem. It is 
 now covered with garden-terraces, the present wall crossing 
 from Mount Zion on the south to Mount Moriah on the east. 
 A. little glen, anciently called the Tyropeon, divides the 
 
 i 
 
74 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 mounts, and winds through to the Damascus Gate, on the 
 north, though from the height of the walls and the position 
 of the city, the depression which it causes in the mass of 
 buildings is not very perceptible, except from the latter point. 
 Moriah is the lowest of the mounts, and hangs directly over 
 the Yalley of Jehosaphat. Its summit was built up by 
 Solomon so as to form a. quadrangular terrace, fiye hundred 
 by three hundred yards in dimension. The lower courses of 
 the grand wall, composed of huge blocks of gray conglomerate 
 limestone, still remain, and there seems to be no doubt that 
 they are of the time of Solomon. Some of the stones are of 
 enormous size ; I noticed several which were fifteen, and one 
 twenty-two feet in length. The upper part of the wall was 
 restored by Sultan Selim, the conqueror of Egypt, and the 
 level of the terrace now supports the great Mosque of Omar, 
 which stands on the very site of the temple. Except these 
 foundation walls, the Damascus Gate and the Tower of 
 Hippicus, there is nothing left of the ancient city. The 
 length of the present wall of circumference is about two miles, 
 but the circuit of Jerusalem, in the time of Herod, was 
 probably double that distance. 
 
 The best views of the city are from the Mount of Olives, 
 and the hill north of it, whence Titus directed the siege which 
 resulted in its total destruction. The Crusaders under God 
 frey of Bouillon encamped on the same hill. My first walk 
 after reaching here, was to the summit of the Mount of Olives, 
 Not far from the hotel we came upon the Via Dolorosa, up 
 which, according to Catholic tradition, Christ toiled with the 
 cross upon his shoulders. I found it utterly impossible to 
 imagiae that I was walking in the same path, and preferred 
 
THE VALLEY OP JEHOSAPHAT. 15 
 
 doubting the tradition. An arch is built across the street at 
 the spot where they say he was shown to the populace. 
 (Eoce Homo.) The passage is steep and rough, descending to 
 St. Stephen's Gate by the Governor's Palace, which stands on 
 the site of the house of Pontius Pilate. Here, in the wall 
 forming the northern part of the foundation of the temple, 
 there are some very fine remains of ancient workmanship. 
 From the city wall, the ground descends abruptly to the 
 Valley of Jehosaphat. The Turkish residents have their 
 tombs on the city side, just under the terrace of the mosque, 
 while thousands of Jews find a peculiar beatitude in having 
 themselves interred on the opposite slope of fa& Mount of 
 Olives, which is in some places quite covered with their 
 crumbling tombstones. The bed of the Brook Kedron is now 
 dry and stony. A sort of chapel, built in the bottom of the 
 valley, is supposed by the Greeks to cover the tomb of the 
 Virgin— a claim which the Latins consider absurd. Near this, 
 at the very foot of the Mount of Olives, the latter sect have 
 lately built a high stone wall around the Garden of Gethse- 
 mane, for the purpose, apparently, of protecting the five aged 
 olives. I am ignorant of the grounds wherefore Gethsemane 
 is plaoed here. Most travellers have given tlfeir faith to the 
 spot, but Dr. Robinson, who is more reliable than any amount 
 of mere tradition, does not coincide with them. The trees do 
 not appear as ancient as some of those at the foot of Mount 
 Oarmel, which are supposed to date from the Roman colony 
 established by Titus. Moreover, it is well known that at the 
 tune of the taking of Jerusalem by that Emperor, all 
 the trees, for many miles around, were destroyed. The 
 olive-trees, therefore, cannot be those under which Christ 
 
76 THE LAXDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 rested, even supposing this to be the true site of Geth- 
 semane. 
 
 The Mount of Olives is a steep and rugged hill, dominating 
 over the city and the surrounding heights. It is still covered 
 with olive orchards, and planted with patches of gram, which 
 do not thrive well on the stony soil. On the summit is a 
 mosque, with a minaret attached, which affords a grand pano- 
 ramic view. As we reached it, the Chief of the College of 
 Dervishes, in the court of the Mosque of Omar, came out with 
 a number of attendants. He saluted us courteously, which 
 would not have been the case had he been the Superior of the 
 Latm Convent, and we Greek Monks. There were some 
 Turkish ladies in the interior of the mosque, so that we could 
 not gain admittance, and therefore did not see the rock con- 
 taining the foot-prints of Christ, who, according to Moslem 
 tradition, ascended to heaven from this spot. The Mohamme- 
 dans, it may not be generally known, accept the history of 
 Christ, except his crucifixion, believing that he passed to 
 heaven without death, another person being crucified in his 
 Btead. They call him the Roh-Allah, or Spirit of God, 
 and consider him, after Mahomet, as the holiest of the 
 Prophets. 
 
 We ascended to the gallery of the minaret. The city lay 
 opposite, so fairly spread out to our view that almost every 
 bouse might be separately distinguished. It is a mass of gray 
 buildings, with dome-roofs, and but for the mosques of Omar 
 and El Aksa, with the courts and galleries around them, would 
 be exceedingly tame in appearance. The only other prominent 
 points are the towers of the Holy Sepulchre, the citadel, 
 enclosing Herod's Tower, and the mosque on mount Zion. The 
 
A SACRED PANORAMA. 77 
 
 Turkish wall, with its sharp angles, its square bastions, and 
 the long, embrasured lines of its parapet, is the most striking 
 feature of the view. Stony hills stretch away from the city 
 on all sides, at present cheered with tracts of springing wheat, 
 but later in the season, brown and desolate. In the south, the 
 conyent of St. Blias is visible, and part of the little town of 
 Bethlehem. I passed to the eastern side of the gallery, and 
 looking thence, deep down among the sterile mountains, beheld 
 a long sheet of blue water, its southern extremity vanishing in 
 a hot, sulphury haze. The mountains of Ammon and Moab, 
 which formed the back-ground of my first view of Jerusalem, 
 leaned like a vast wall against the sky, beyond the mysterious 
 sea and the broad valley of the Jordan. The great depression 
 of this valley below the level of the Mediterranean gives it a 
 most remarkable character. It appears even deeper than is 
 actually the case, and resembles an enormous chasm or moat, 
 separating two different regions of the earth. The khamseen 
 was blowing from the south, from out the deserts of Edom, 
 and threw its veil of fiery vapor over the landscape. The 
 muezzin pointed out to me the location of Jericho, of Kerak 
 in Moab, and Bs-Salt in the country of Ammon. Ere long 
 the shadow of the minaret denoted noon, and, placing his 
 hands on both sides of his mouth, he cried out, first on the 
 South side, towards Mecca, and then to the West, and North, 
 and East : " God is great : there is no God but God, and 
 Mohammed is His Prophet! Let us prostrate ourselves before 
 Him : and to Him alone be the glory !" 
 
 Jerusalem, internally, gives no impression but that of filth, 
 ruin, poverty, and degradation. There are two or three 
 streets in the western or higher portioo of the city which are 
 
IS THE LANDS OP THE SABACEN. 
 
 tolerably clean, but all the others, to the very gates of the 
 Holy Sepulchre, are channels of pestilence. The Jewish Quar- 
 ter, which is the largest, so sickened and disgusted me, that I 
 should rather go the whole round of the city walls than pass 
 through it a second time. The bazaars are poor, compared 
 with those of other Oriental cities of the same size, and the 
 principal trade seems to be in rosaries, both Turkish and Chris- 
 tian, crosses, seals, amuliets, and pieces of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 The population, which may possibly reach 20,000, is apparently 
 Jewish, for the most part ; at least, I have, been principally 
 struck with the Hebrew face, in my walks. The number of 
 Jews has increased considerably within a few years, and there 
 is also quite a number who, having been converted to Pro- 
 testantism, were brought hither at the expense of English 
 missionary societies for the purpose of forming a Protestant 
 community. Twb of the hotels are kept by families of this 
 class. It is estimated that each member of the community has 
 cost the Mission about £4,500 : a sum which would have 
 Christianized tenfold the number of English heathen. The 
 Mission, however, is kept up by its patrons, as a sort of religi- 
 ous luxury. The English have lately built a very handsome 
 church within the walls, and the Kev. Dr. Gobat, well known 
 by his missionary labors in Abyssinia, now has the title of 
 Bishop of Jerusalem. A friend of his in Central, Africa gave 
 me a letter of introduction for him, and I am quite disap- 
 pointed in finding him absent. Dr. Barclay, of Virginia, a 
 most worthy man in every respect, is at the head of the Ame- 
 rican Mission here. There is, besides, what is called the 
 " American Colony," at the village of Artos, near Bethlehem : 
 a little community of religions enthusiasts, whose experiments 
 
CHRISTIANITY IN JEKUSALEM. 19 
 
 in cultivation have met with remarkable success, and are much 
 spoken of at present. 
 
 Whatever good the various missions here may, in time, 
 accomplish (at present, it does not amount to much), Jerusa- 
 lem is the last place in the world where an intelligent heathen 
 would be coa verted to Christianity. Were I cast here, igno- 
 rant of any religion, and were I to compare the lives and 
 practices of the different sects as the means of making my 
 choice— in short, to judge of each faith by the conduct of its 
 professors — I should at once turn Mussulman. When you 
 consider that in the Holy Sepulchre there are nineteen chapels, 
 each belonging to a different sect, calling itself Christian, and 
 that a Turkish police is always stationed there to prevent the 
 bloody quarrels which often ensue between them, you may 
 judge how those who call themselves followers of the Prince 
 of Peace practice the pure faith he sought to establish. 
 Between the Greek and Latin churches, especially, there is a 
 deadly feud, and their contentions are a scandal, not only to 
 the few Christians here, but to the Moslems themselves. I 
 believe there is a sort of truce at present, owing to the settle- 
 ment of some of the disputes — as, for instance, the restoration 
 of the silver star, which the Greeks stole from the shrine of 
 the Nativity, at Bethlehem. The Latins, however, not long 
 since, demolished, vi et amis, a chapel which the Greeks com- 
 menced building on Mount Zion. But, if the employment of 
 material weapons has been abandoned for the time, there is 
 none the less a war of words and of sounds still going on. Go 
 into the Holy Sepulchre, when mass is being celebrated, and 
 you can scarcely endure the din. No sooner does the Greek 
 choir begin its shrill chant, than the Latins fly to the assault. 
 
80 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 They have an organ, and terribly does that organ strain its 
 bellows and labor its pipes to drown the rival singing. Tou 
 think the Latins will carry the day, when suddenly the cymbals 
 of the Abyssinians strike in with harsh brazen clang, and, for 
 the moment, triumph. Then there are Copts, and Maronites, 
 and Armenians, and I know not how many other sects, who 
 must have their share ; and the service that should be a many- 
 toned harmony pervaded by one grand spirit of devotion, 
 becomes a discorcfant orgie, befitting the rites of Belial. 
 
 A long time ago — ^I do not know the precise number of 
 years — the Sultan granted a firman, in answer to the applica- 
 tion of both Jews and Christians, allowing the members of 
 each sect to put to death any person belonging to the other 
 sect, who should be found inside of their churches or syna-" 
 gogues. The firman has never been recalled, though in every 
 place but Jerusalem it remains a dead letter. Here, although 
 the Jews freely permit Christians to enter their synagogue, a 
 Jew who should enter the Holy Sepulchre would be lucky if 
 he escaped with his life. Not long since, an English gentle- 
 man, who was taken by the monks for a Jew, was so severely 
 beaten that he was confined to his bed for two months. What 
 worse than scandal, what abomination, that the spot looked 
 upon by so many Christians as the most awfully sacred on 
 earth, should be the scene of such brutish intolerance 1 I 
 never pass the group of Turkish officers, quietly smoking their 
 long pipes and sipping their coffee within the vestibule of the 
 Church, without a feeling of humiliation. Worse than the 
 money-changers whom Christ scourged out of the Temple, the 
 guardians of this edifice make use of His crucifixion and 
 resurrection as a means of gain. You may buy a piece of the 
 
THE JEWS or JERUSALEM. 81 
 
 Stone covering the Holy Sepulchre, duly certified by the 
 Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem, for about $*?. At Bethlehem, 
 which I visited this morning, the Latin monk who showed us 
 the manger, the pit where 12,000 innocents were buried, and 
 other things, had much less to say of the sacredness or authen- 
 ticity of the place, than of the injustice of allowing the Greeks' 
 a share in its possession. 
 
 The native Jewish families in Jerusalem, as well as those 
 in other parts of Palestine, present a marked difference to the 
 Jews of Europe and America. They possess the same physi- 
 cal characteristics — the dark, oblong eye, the prominent nose, 
 the strongly-marked cheek and jaw — ^but in the latter, these 
 traits have become harsh and coarse. Centuries devoted to 
 the lowest and most debasing forms of traffic, with the endu- 
 rance of persecution and contumely, have greatly changed and 
 vulgarized the appearance of the race. But the Jews of the 
 Holy City still retain a noble beauty, which proved to my 
 mind their descent from the ancient princely houses of Israel. 
 The forehead is loftier, the eye larger and more frank in its 
 expression, the nose more delicate in its prominence, and the 
 face a purer oval. I have remarked the same distinction in 
 the countenances of those Jewish families of Europe, whose 
 members have devoted themselves to Art or Literature. 
 Mendelssohn's was a face that might have belonged to the 
 House of David. 
 
 On the evening of my arrival in the city, as I set out to 
 walk through the bazaars, I encountered a native Jew, whose 
 face will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was sauntering 
 slowly along, asking myself "Is this Jerusalem?" when, 
 lifting my eyes, they met those of Christ ! It was the very 
 
 4* 
 
82 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 face which Raphael has painted — the traditional features of 
 the Saviour, as they are recognised and accepted by all 
 Christendom. The waving brown hair, partly hidden by a 
 Jewish cap, fell clustering about the ears ; the face was the 
 most perfect oval, and almost feminine in the purity of its 
 outline ; the serene, child-like mouth was shaded vrith a light 
 moustache, and a silky brown beard clothed the chin ; but the 
 eyes — shall I ever look into such orbs again ? Large, dark, 
 unfathomable, they beamed with an expression of divine love 
 and divine sorrow, such as I never before saw in human face. 
 The man had just emerged from a dark archway, and the 
 golden glow of the sunset, reflected from a white wall above, 
 fell upon his face. Perhaps it was this transfiguration which 
 made his beauty so unearthly ; but, during the moment that 
 I saw him, he was to me a revelation of the Saviour. There 
 are stiU miracles in the Land of Judah. As the dusk gathered 
 in the deep streets, I could see nothing but the ineffable 
 sweetness and benignity of that countenance, and my friend 
 was not a little astonished, if not shocked, when I said to him, 
 with the earnestness of belief, on my return : " I have just 
 seen Christ." 
 
 I made the round of the Holy Sepulchre on Sunday, while 
 the monks were celebrating the festival of the Invention of the 
 Cross, in the chapel of the Empress Helena. As the finding 
 of the cross by the Empress is almost the only authority for 
 the places inclosed within the Holy Sepulchre, I went there 
 inclined to doubt their authenticity, and came away with my 
 doubt vastly strengthened. The building is a confused laby- 
 rinth of chapels, choirs, shrines, staircases, and vaults — without 
 any definite plan or any architectural beauty, though very rich 
 
THE HOLT SEPULCHRE. 83 
 
 in parts and full of picturesque effects. Golden lamps con- 
 tinually burn before the sacred places, and yon rarely Tisit 
 the church without seeing som,e procession of monks, with 
 crosses, censers, and tapers, threading the shadowy passages, 
 from shrine to shrine It is astonishing how many localities 
 are assembled under one roof. At first, you are shown the 
 stone on which Christ rested from the burden of the cross ; 
 then, the place where the soldiers cast lots for His garments, 
 both of them adjoining the Sepulchre. After seeing this, you 
 are taken to the Pillar of Flagellation ; the stocks ; the place 
 of crowning with thorns ; the spot where He met His mother ; 
 the cave where the Empress Helena found the cross ; and, 
 lastly, the summit of Mount Calvary. The Sepulchre is a 
 small marble building in the centre of the church. We removed 
 our shoes at the entrance, and were taken by a Greek monk, 
 first into a sort of ante-chamber, lighted with golden lamps, 
 and having in the centre, inclosed in a case of marble, the 
 stone on which the angel sat. Stooping through a low door, 
 we entered the Sepulchre itself. Forty lamps of gold burn 
 unceasingly above the white marble slab, which, as the monks 
 say, protects the stone whereon the body of Christ was laid. 
 As we again emerged, our guide led us up a flight of steps to 
 a second story, in which stood a shrine, literally blazing with 
 gold. Kneeling on the marble floor, he removed a golden 
 shield, and showed us the hole in the rock of Calvary, where 
 the cross was planted. Close beside it was the fissure pro- 
 duced by the earthquake which followed the Crucifixion. But, 
 to my eyes, aided by the light of the dim wax taper, it was no 
 violent rupture, such as an earthquake would produce, and the 
 rock did not appear to be the same as that of which Jerusalem 
 
84 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 is built. As we turned to leave, a monk appeared with a bowl 
 of sacred rose-water, which he sprinkled on our hands, bestowing 
 a double pprtion on a rosary of sandal-wood which I carried. 
 But it was a Mohammedan rosary, brought from Mecca, and 
 containing the sacred number of ninety-nine beads. 
 
 I have not space here to state all the arguments for and 
 against the localities in the Holy Sepulchre. I came to the 
 conclusion that none of them were authentic, and am glad to 
 have the concurrence of such distinguished authority as Dr. 
 Kobinson. So far from this being a matter of regret, I, for 
 one, rejoice that those sacred spots are lost to the world. 
 Christianity does not need them, and they are spared a daily 
 profanation in the name of religion. We know that Christ has 
 walked on the Mount of Olives, and gone down to the Pool of 
 Siloam, and tarried in Bethany; we know that here, within 
 the circuit of our vision. He has suffered agony and' death, and 
 that from this little point went out all the light that has made 
 the world greater and happier and better in its later than in 
 its earlier days. 
 
 Yet, I must frankly confess, in wandering through this city 
 — revered alike by Christians, Jews and Turks as one of the 
 holiest in the world — I have been reminded of Christ, the 
 Man, rather than of Christ, the God. In the glory which 
 overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never 
 come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed 
 sites. As I toiled up the Mount of Olives, in the very foot- 
 steps of Christ, panting with the heat and the difficult ascent, 
 I found it utterly impossible to conceive that the Deity, in 
 human form, had walked there before me. And even at night, 
 as I walk on the terraced roof, while the moon, " the balmy 
 
VISIONS OF CHRIST. 85 
 
 moon of blessed Israel," restores the Jerusalem of olden days 
 to my imagination, the Saviour who then haunts my thoughts 
 is the Man Jesus, in those moments of trial when He felt the 
 weaknesses of our common humanity; in that agony of struggle 
 in the garden of Gethsemane, in that still more bitter cry of 
 human doubt and human appeal from the cross : " My God, 
 my God, why hast Thou forsaken me !" Yet there is no 
 reproach for this conception of the character of Christ. 
 Better the divinely-inspired Man, the purest and most perfect 
 of His race, the pattern and type of all that is good and holy 
 in Humanity, than the Deity for whose intercession we pray, 
 while we trample His teachings under our feet. It would be 
 well for many Christian sects, did they keep more constantly 
 before their eyes the sublime humanity of Christ. How much 
 bitter intolerance and persecution might be spared the world, 
 if, instead of simply adoring Him as a Divine Mediator, they 
 would strive to walk the ways He trod on earth. But Chris- 
 tianity is stUl undeveloped, and there is yet no sect which 
 represents its full and perfect spirit. 
 
 It is my misfortune if I give offence by these remarks. I 
 cannot assume emotions I do not feel, and must describe Jeru 
 salem as I found it. Since being here, I have read the 
 accounts of several travellers, and in many cases the devotional 
 rhapsodies — the ecstacies of awe and reverence — ^in which they 
 indulge, strike me as forced and affected. The pious writers 
 have described what was expected of them, not what they 
 found. It was partly from reading such accounts that my 
 anticipations were raised too high, for the view of the city 
 from the Jaffa road and the panorama from the Mount of Olives 
 are the only things wherein I have been pleasantly disappointed. 
 
86 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 By, far the most interesting relic left to the city ia the foun- 
 dation wall of Solomon's Temple. The Mosque of Omar, 
 according to the accounts of the Turks, and Mr. Catherwood's 
 examination, rests on immense vaults, which are believed to be 
 the substructions of the Temple itself. Under the dome of the 
 mosque there is a large mass of natural rock, revered by the 
 Moslems as that from which Mahomet mounted the beast 
 Borak when he visited the Seven Heavens, and believed by 
 Mr. Oatherwood to have served as part of the foundation of 
 the Holy of Holies. No Christian is allowed to enter the 
 mosque, or even its enclosure, on penalty of death, and even 
 the firman of the Sultan has failed to obtain admission for a 
 Frank. I have been strongly tempted to make the attempt in 
 my Egyptian dress, which happens to resemble that of a 
 moUah or Moslem priest, but the Dervishes in the adjoining 
 college have sharp eyes, and my pronunciation of Arabic 
 would betray me in case I was accosted. I even went so far 
 as to buy a string of the large beads usually carried by a mol- 
 lah, but unluckily I do not know the Moslem form of prayer, 
 or I might carry out the plan under the guise of religious 
 abstraction. This morning we succeeded in getting a nearer 
 view of the mosque from the roof of the Governor's palace. 
 Frangois, by assuming the character of a Turkish cawass, 
 gained us admission. The roof overlooks the entire enclosure 
 of the Haram, and gives a complete view of the exterior of 
 the mosque and the paved court surrounding it. There is no 
 regularity in the style of the buildings in the enclosure, but the 
 general effect is highly picturesque. The great dome of the 
 mosque is the grandest in all the Orient, but the body of the 
 edifice, made to resemble an octagonal teDt, and covered with 
 
THE MOSQUE OP OMAE. 87 
 
 blue aud white tiles, is not high enough to do it justice. The 
 first court is paved with marble, and has four porticoes, each of 
 five light Saracenic arches, opening into the green park, which 
 occupies the rest of the terrace. This park is studded with 
 cypress and fig trees, and dotted all over with the tombs of 
 shekhs. As we were looking down on the spacious area, 
 behold 1 who should come along but Shekh Mohammed Senoo- 
 see, the holy man of Timbuctoo, who had laid off his scarlet 
 robe and donned a green one. I called down to him, where- 
 upon he looked up and recognised us. For this reason I regret 
 our departure from Jerusalem, as I am sure a little persuasion 
 would induce the holy man to accompany me within the 
 mosque. 
 
 We leave to-morrow for Damascus, by way of Nazareth and 
 Tiberius. My original plan was to have gone to Djerash, the 
 ancient Geraza, in the land of G-ilead, and thence to Bozrah, 
 in Djebel Hauaran. But Djebel Adjeloun, as the country 
 about Djerash is called, is under a powerful Bedouin shekh, 
 named Abd-el Azeez, and without an escort from him, which 
 involves considerable delay and a fee of $150, it would be 
 impossible to make the journey. We are therefore restricted 
 to the ordinary route, and in case we should meet with any 
 difficulty by the way, Mr. Smith, the American Consul, who is 
 now here, has kindly procured us a firman from the Pasha of 
 Jerusalem. All the travellers here are making preparations to 
 leave, but there are still two parties in the Desert. 
 
88 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HILL-COUNTRY OF PALESTINE. 
 
 LeaTing Jerusalem— The Tombs of the Kings— El Blreh— The Hill-Country— P;ral 
 View of Mount Hermon— The Tonib ot Joseph— Ebal and GeriElm- The Gavdens of 
 Nablous— The Samaritans— The Sacred Book— A Scene in tie Synagogue— Mentor 
 and Telemachus— Ride to Samaria— The Ruins of Sebaste— Scriptural Landscapes- 
 Halt at Genin— The Plain of Esdraelon— Palestine and California— The Hills of 
 Nazareth— Accident— Pra Joaohun— The Church of the Vhrgin— The Shrine of the 
 Annunciation — The Holy Places. 
 
 *' Blest land of Judea I thrice hallowed of song, 
 Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like throng : 
 In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy sea, 
 On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee 1 " 
 
 J. G. WHrtTIEB. 
 
 Latin Gohtsnt, Nazasbih, Friday, May T, 1S52. 
 
 We left Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate, because within a few 
 months neither travellers nor baggage are allowed to pass the 
 Damascus Gate, on account of smuggling operations having 
 been carried on there. Not far from the city wall there is a 
 superb terebinth tree, now in the full glory of its shining green 
 leaves. It appears to be bathed in a perpetual dew ; the 
 rounded masses of foliage sparkle and glitter in the light, and 
 the great spreading boughs flood the turf below with a deluge 
 of delicious shade. A number of persons were reclining on the 
 grass under it, and one of them, a very handsome Christian 
 boy, spoke to us in Italian and English. I scarcely remember 
 
THE TOMBS OP THE KINSS. 89 
 
 a brighter and purer day than that of our depoirture. The 
 sky was a sheet of spotless blue ; every rift and scar of the 
 distant hills was retouched with a firmer pencil, and all the 
 outlines, blurred away by the haze of the previous few days, 
 were restored with .wonderful distinctness. The temperature 
 was hot, but not sultry, and the air we breathed was an elixir 
 of immortality. 
 
 Through a luxuriant ohve grove we reached the Tombs of 
 the Kings, situated in a small valley to the north of the city. 
 Part of the valley, if not the whole of it, has been formed by 
 quarrying away the crags of marble and conglomerate lime- 
 stone for building the city. Near the edge of the low cliffs 
 overhanging it, there are some illustrations of the ancieilt mode 
 of cutting stone, which, as well as the custom of excavating 
 tombs in the rock, was evidently borrowed from Egypt. The 
 upper surface of the rocks was first made smooth, after which 
 •the blocks were mapped out and cut apart by grooves chiselled 
 between them. I visited four or five tombs, each of which 
 had a sort of vestibule or open portico in front. The door 
 was low, and the chambers which I entered, small and black, , 
 without sculptures of any kind. The tombs bear some resem- 
 blance in their general plan to those of Thebes, except .that 
 they are without ornaments, either sculptured or painted, 
 There are fragments of sarcophagi in some of them. On the 
 southern side of the valley is a large quarry, evidently worked 
 for marble, as the blocks have been cut out from below, 
 leaving a large overhanging mass, part of which has broken 
 off and fallen down. Some pieces which I picked up were of a 
 very fine white marble, somewhat resembling that of Carrara. 
 The opening of the quarry made a striking picture, the soft 
 
90 THE LANDS OP THE SABACEN. 
 
 pink hue of the weather-stained rock contrasting exquieitely 
 with the vivid green of the vines festooning the entrance. 
 
 From the long hill beyond the Tombs, we took our last view 
 of Jerusalem, far beyond whose walls I saw the Church of the 
 Nativity, at Bethlehem. The Jewish synagogue on the top of 
 the mountain called Nebbee Samwil, the highest peak in Pales- 
 tine, was visible at some distance to the west. Notwithstand- 
 ing its sanctity, I felt little regret at leaving Jerusalem, and 
 cheerfully took the rough road northward, over the stony hUls. 
 There were few habitations in sight, yet the hill-sides were 
 cultivated, wherever it was possible for anything to grow. 
 The wheat was just coming into head, and the people were at 
 work, planting maize. After four hours' ride, we reached El 
 Bu-eh, a little village on a hill, with the ruins of a convent and 
 a large khan. The place takes its name from a fountain of 
 excellent water, beside which we found our tents already 
 pitched. In the evening, two Englishmen, an ancient Mentor,- 
 with a wild young Telemachus in charge, arrived, and camped 
 near us. The night was calm and cool, and the full moon 
 poured a flood of light over the bare and silent hills. 
 
 We rose long before sunrise, and rode off in the brilliant 
 morning — the sky unstained by a speck of vapor. In the 
 valley, beyond El Bireh, the husbandmen were already at their 
 ploughs, and the village boys were on their way to the uncul- 
 tured parts of the hills, with their flocks of sheep and goats. 
 The valley terminated in a deep gorge, with perpendicular 
 walls of rock on either side. Our road mounted the hill on 
 the eastern side, and followed the brink of the precipice 
 through the pass, where an enchanting landscape opened upon 
 us. The village of Yebrood crowned a hill which rose oppo- 
 
THE HILL-OOUNTRY. 91 
 
 Bite, and the mottntain slopes leaning towards it on all sides 
 were covered with orchards of fig trees, and either rustling 
 with wheat or cleanly ploughed for maize. The soil was a dark 
 brown loam, and very rich. The stones have been laboriously 
 bnilt into terraces; and, even where heavy rocky boulders 
 almost hid the soil, young fig and olive trees were planted in 
 the crevices between them. I have never seen more thorough 
 and pai)ieni cultivation. In the crystal of the morning air, 
 the very hills laughed with plenty, and the whole landscape 
 beamed with the signs df gladness on its countenance. 
 
 The site of ancient Bethel was not far to the right of our 
 road. Over hills laden with the olive, fig, and vine, we passed 
 to Ain el-Haramiyeh, or the Fountain of the Robbers. Here 
 there are tombs cut in the roek on both sides of the valley. 
 Over another ridge, we descended to a large, bowl-shaped 
 valley, entirely covered with wheat, and opening eastward 
 towards the Jordan. Thence to Nablous (the Shechem of the 
 Old and Sychar of the New Testament) is four hours through 
 a winding dell of the richest harvest land. On the way, we 
 first caught sight of the snowy top of Mount Hermon, distant 
 at least eighty miles in a straight line. Before reaching 
 Nablous, I stopped to drink at a fountain of clear and sweet 
 water, beside a square pile of masonry, upon which sat two 
 Moslem dervishes. This, we were told, was the Tomb of 
 Joseph, whose body, after having accompanied the Israelites 
 in all their wanderings, was at last deposited near Shechem. 
 There is less reason to doubt this spot than most of the sacred 
 places of Palestine, for the reason that it rests, not on Chris- 
 tian, but on Jewish tradition. The wonderful -tenacity with 
 which the Jews cling to every record or memento of their early 
 
92 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 history, and the fact that from the time of Joseph a portion ol 
 them have always lingered near the spot, render it highly 
 probable that the locality of a spot so sacred should have been 
 preserved from generation to generation to the present time. 
 It has been recently proposed to open this tomb, by digging 
 under it from the side. If the body of Joseph was actually 
 deposited here, there are, no doubt, some traces of it remaining. 
 It must have been embalmed, according to the Egyptian cus- 
 tom, and placed in a coffin of the Indian sycamore, the wood 
 of which is so nearly incorruptible, that thirty-five centuries 
 would not suffice for its decomposition. The singular interest 
 of such a discovery would certainly justify the experiment. 
 Not far from the tomb is Jacob's Well, where Christ met the 
 Woman of Samaria. This place is also considered as authen- 
 tic, for the same reasons. If not wholly convincing to all, 
 there is, at least, so much probability in them that one is freed 
 from that painful coldness and incredulity with which he 
 beholds the sacred shows of Jerusalem. 
 
 Leaving the Tomb of Joseph, the road turned to the west, 
 and entered the narrow pass between Mounts Ebal and Geri- 
 zim. The former is a steep, barren peak, clothed with terraces 
 of cactus, standing ou the northern side of the pass. Mount 
 Gerizim is cultivated nearly to the top, and is truly a moun- 
 tain of blessing, compared with its neighbor. Through an 
 orchard of grand old olive-trees, we reached Nablous, which 
 presented a charming picture, with its long mass of white, 
 dome-topped stone houses, stretching along the foot of Gerizim 
 through a sea of bowery orchards. The bottom of the valley 
 resembles some old garden run to waste. Abundant streams, 
 poured from the generous heart of the Mount of Blessing, leap 
 
NABL0U3. 93 
 
 and gurgle with pleasant noises through thickets of orange, 
 fig, and pomegranate, through bowers of roses and tangled 
 masses of briars and wild vines. We halted in a grove of 
 olives, and, after our tent was pitched, walked upward through 
 the orchards to the Ras-el-Ain (Promontory of the Fountain), 
 on the side of Mount Gerizim. A multitude of beggars sat 
 at the city gate ; and, as they continued to clamor after I had 
 given sufficient alms, I paid them with "Allah dedelc!" — (God 
 give it to you !) — the Moslem's reply to such importunity — 
 and they ceased in an instant. This exclamation, it seems, 
 takes away from them the power of demanding a second 
 time. 
 
 From under the Ras-el-Ain gushes forth the Fountain of 
 Honey, so called from the sweetness and purity of the water. 
 We drank of it, and I found the taste very agreeable, but my 
 companion declared that it had an unpleasant woolly flavor. 
 When we climbed a little higher, we found that the true source 
 from which the fountain is supplied was above, and that an 
 A.rab was washing a flock of sheep in it 1 We continued our 
 walk along the side of the mountain to the other end of the 
 eity, through gardens of almond, apricot, prune, and walnut- 
 trees, bound each to each by great vines, whose heavy arms 
 they seemed barely able to support. The interior of the town 
 is dark -and filthy; but it has a long, busy bazaar extending 
 its whole length, and a cafe, where we procured the besi; 
 coffee in Syria. 
 
 Nablous is noted for the existence of a small remnant of the 
 ancient Samaritans. The stock has gradually dwindled away, 
 and amounts to only forty families, containing little more than 
 a hundred and fifty individuals. They live in a particular 
 
94 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 quarter of the city, and are easily distinguished from the othef 
 inhabitants by the cast of their features. After our guide, a 
 native of Nablous, had pointed out three or four, I had no 
 difficulty in recognising all the others we met. They have 
 long, but not prominent noses, like the Jews ; small, oblong 
 eyes, narrow lips, and fair complexions, most of them having 
 brown hair. They appear to be held in considerable obloquy 
 by the Moslems. Our attendant, who was of the low class of 
 Arabs, took the boys we met very unceremoniously by the 
 head, calling out : " Here is another Samaritan I" He then 
 conducted us to their synagogue, to see the celebrated Penta- 
 teuch, which is there preserved. We were taken to a small, 
 open court, shaded by an apricot-tree, where the priest, an old 
 man in a green robe and white turban, waa seated in medita- 
 tion. He had a long grey beard, and black eyes, that lighted 
 up with a sudden expression of eager greed when we promised 
 him backsheesh for a sight of the sacred book. He arose and 
 took us into a sort of chapel, followed by a number of Samari- 
 tan boys. Kneeling down at a niche in the wall, he produced 
 from behind a wooden case a piece of ragged parchment, writ- 
 ten with Hebrew characters. But the guide was familiar with 
 this deception, and rated him so soundly that, after a little 
 hesitation, he laid the fragment away, and produced a large tin 
 cylinder, covered with a piece of green satin embroidOTed in 
 gold. The boys stooped down and reverently kissed the 
 blazoned cover, before it was removed. The cylinder, sliding 
 open by two rows of hinges, opened at the same time the 
 parchment scroll, which was rolled at both ends. It was, 
 indeed, a very ancient manuscript, and in remarkable preserva- 
 tion. The rents have been carefully repaired and the scroll 
 
A SCENE IN THE SYNAQOGtrE. 95 
 
 neatly stitched upon another piece of parchment, corered on 
 the outside with violet satin. The priest informed me that it 
 was written by the son of Aaron ; but this does- not coincide 
 with the fact that the Samaritan Pentateuch is different from 
 that of the Jews. It is, however, no doubt one of the oldest 
 parchment records in the world, and the Samaritans look upon 
 it with unbounded faitb and reverence. The Pentateuch, 
 according to their version) contains their oaly form of reh'gion. 
 They reject everything else which the Old Testament contains. 
 Three or four days ago was their grand feast of sacrifice, when 
 they made a burnt offering of a lamb, on the top of Mount 
 Gerizim. Within a short time, it is said they have shown 
 some curiosity to become acquainted with the New Testament, 
 and the High Priest sent to Jerusalem to procure Arabic 
 copies. 
 
 I asked one of the wild-eyed boys whether he could read the 
 sacred book. " Oh, yes," said the priest, " all these boys can 
 read it ;" and the one I addressed immediately pulled a volume 
 from his breast, and commenced reading in fluent Hebrew. It 
 appeared to be a paart of their church service, for both the 
 priest and hoah, or door-keeper, kept up a running series of 
 Responses, and occasionally the whole crowd shouted out some 
 deep-mouthed word in chorus. The old man leaned forward 
 with an expression as fixed and intense as if the text had 
 become incarnate in him, following with Ms lips the sound of 
 the boy's voice. It was a strange picture of religious enthu- 
 siasm, and was of itself suffieifent to convince me of the legiti- 
 macy of the Samaritan's descent. When I rose to leave I gave 
 him the promised fee, and a smaller one to the boy who read 
 the service. This was the signal for a general attack from the 
 
96 THE LANDS OF THE SABACKN. 
 
 door-keeper and all the boyS who were present. They sur- 
 rounded me with eyes sparkling with the desire of gain, kissed 
 the border of my jacket, stroked my beard coaxingly with their 
 hands, which they then kissed, and, crowding up with a bois- 
 terous show of affection, were about to fall on my neck in a 
 heap, after the old Hebrew fashion. The priest, clamorous for 
 more, followed with glowing face, and the whole group had a 
 riotous and bacchanalian character, which I should nerer have 
 imagined could spring from such a passion as avarice. 
 
 On returning to our camp, we found Mentor and Telemachus 
 arrived, but not on such friendly terras as their Greek proto- 
 types. We were kept awake for a long time that night by 
 their high words, and the first sound I heard the next morning 
 came from their tent. Telemachus, I suspect, had found some 
 island of Calypso, and did not relish the cold shock of the 
 plnage into the sea, by which Mentor had forced him away. 
 He insisted on returning to Jerusalem, but as Mentor would 
 not allow him a horse, he had not the courage to try it on foot. 
 After a series of altercations, in which he took a pistol to 
 shoot the dragoman, and applied very profane terms to every- 
 body in the company, his wrath dissolved into tears, and when 
 we left, Mentor had decided to rest a day at Nablous, and let 
 him recover from the effects of the storm. 
 
 We rode down the beautiful valley, taking the road to 
 Sebaste (Samaria), while our luggage-mules kept directly over 
 the mountains to Jenin. Our path at first followed the course 
 of the stream, between turfy banks and through luxuriant 
 orchards. The whole country we overlooked was planted with 
 olive-trees, and, except the very summits of the mountains, 
 covered with grain-fields. For two h^uvs our course waa 
 
THE KUINS OF SAMARIA. 97 
 
 north-east, leading over the hills, and now and then dipping into 
 beautiful dells. In one of these a large stream gushes from 
 the earth in a full fountain, at the foot of a great olive-tree. 
 The hill-side above it was a complete mass of foliage, crowned 
 with the white walls of a Syrian village. Descending the val- 
 ley, which is very deep, we came in sight of Samaria, situated 
 on the summit of an isolated hill. The sanctuary of the 
 ancient Christian church of St. John towers high above the 
 mud walls of the modern village. Riding between olive- 
 orchards and wheat-fields of glorious richness and beauty, we 
 passed the remains of an acqueduct, and ascended the hill. 
 The ruins of the church occupy the eastern summit. Part of 
 them have been converted into a mosque, which the Christian 
 foot is not allowed to profane. The church, which is in the 
 Byzantine style, is apparently of the time of the Crusaders. 
 It had originally a central and two side-aisles, covered with 
 groined Gothic vaults. The sanctuary is semi-circular, with a 
 row of small arches, supported by double pillars. The church 
 rests on the foundations of some much more ancient building — 
 probably a temple belonging to the B,oman city. 
 
 Behind the modern village, the hill terminates in a long, 
 eliptical mound, about one-third of a mile in length. We 
 made the tour of it, and were surprised at finding a large 
 number of columns, each of a single piece of marble. They 
 had once formed a double colonnade, extending from the 
 church to a gate on the western side of the summit. Our 
 native guide said they had been covered with an arch, and 
 constituted a long market or bazaar — a supposition in which he 
 may be correct. Prom the gate, which is still distinctly 
 marked, we overlooked several deep valleys to the west, and 
 
 .5 
 
98 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 over them all, the blue horizon of the Mediterranean, south of 
 CsBsarea. On the northern side of the hill there are upwards 
 of twenty more pillars standing, besides a number hurled 
 down, and the remains of a quadrangular colonnade, on the 
 side of the hill below. The total number of pillars on the 
 summit cannot be less than one hundred, from twelve to 
 eighteen feet in height. The hill is strewn, even to its base, 
 with large hewn blocks and fragments of sculptured stone. 
 The present name of the city was given to it by Herod, and it 
 must have been at that time a most stately and beautiful 
 place. 
 
 We descended to a valley on the east, climbed a long 
 ascent, and after crossing the broad shoulder of a mountain 
 beyond, saw below us a landscape even more magnificent than 
 that of Nablous. It was a great winding valley, its bottom 
 rolling in waves of wheat and barley, wMle every hill-side, up 
 to the bare rock, was mantled with groves of olive. The very 
 summits which looked into this garden of Israel, were green 
 with fragrant plants — wild thyme and sage, gnaphalinm and 
 camomile. Away to the west was the sea, and in the north- 
 west the mountain chain of Carmel. We went down to the 
 gardens and pasture-land, and stopped to rest at the Village 
 of Geba, which hangs on the side of the mountain. A spring 
 of whitish but delicious water gushed out of the soil,, in the 
 midst of a fig orchard. The women passed us, going back and 
 forth with tall water-jars on their heads. Some herd-boys 
 brought down a flock of black goats, and they were all given 
 drink in a large wooden bowl. They were beautiful animals, 
 with thick curved horns, white eyes, and ears a foot long. It 
 was a truly Biblical picture in every feature. 
 
PALESTINE AND CALIFORNIA. VV 
 
 Beyond this valley we passed a circular basin, which has no 
 outlet, so that in winter the bottom of it must be a lake. 
 After winding among the hills an hour more, we came out upon 
 the town of Jenin, a Turkish village, with a tall white minaret, 
 at the head of the great plain of Esdraelon. It is supposed to 
 be the ancient Jezreel, where the termagant Jezebel was 
 thrown out of the window. We pitched our tent in a garden 
 near the town, under a beautiful mulberry tree, and, as the 
 place is in very bad repute, engaged a man to keep guard at 
 night. An English family was robbed there two or three 
 weeks ago. Our guard did his duty well, pacing back and 
 forth, and occasionally grounding his musket to keep up his 
 courage by the sound. In the evening, Frangois caught a 
 chameleon, a droll-looking little creature, which changed color 
 in a marvellous manner. 
 
 Our road, next day, lay directly across the Plain of Esdrae- 
 lon, one of the richest districts in the world. It is now a 
 green sea, covered with fields of wheat and barley, or great 
 grazing tracts, on which multitudes of sheep and goats are 
 wandering. In some respects it reminded me of the Valley 
 of San Jose, and if I were to liken Palestine to any other 
 country I have seen, it would be California. The climate and 
 succession of the seasons are the same, the soil is very similar 
 in quality, and the landscapes present the same general 
 features. Here, in spring, the plains are covered with that 
 deluge of floral bloom, which makes California seem a paradise. 
 Here there are the same picturesque groves, the same rank 
 fields of wild oats clothing the mountain-sides, the same 
 aromatic herbs impregnating the air with balm, and above all, 
 the same blue, cloudless days and dewless nights. While 
 
100 THE LANDS OF THE aAEACEN. 
 
 travelling here, I am constantly reminded of our new Syria on 
 the Pacific. 
 
 Towards no an, Mount Tabor separated itself from the chain 
 of hills before us, and stood out singly, at the extremity of the 
 plain. We watered our horses at a spring in a swamp, -sjere 
 some women were collected, beating with sticks the rushes 
 they had gathered to make mats. After reaching the moun- 
 tains on the northern side of the plain, an ascent of an hour 
 and a-half, through a narrow glen, brought us to Nazareth, 
 which is situated in a cul-de-sae, under the highest peaks of 
 the range. As we were passing a rocky part of the road, 
 Mr. Harrison's horse fell with him and severely injured his 
 leg. We were fortunately near our destination, and on reach- 
 the Latin Convent, Fra Joachim, to whose surgical abilities 
 the traveller's book bore witness, took him in charge. Many 
 others besides ourselves have had reason to be thankful for the 
 good offices of the Latin monks in Palestine. I have never 
 met with a class more kind, cordial, and genial. AH the 
 convents are bound to take in and entertain all applicants — 
 of whatever creed or nation — ^for the space of three days. 
 
 In the afternoon, Fra Joachim accompanied me to the 
 Church of the Virgin, which is inclosed within the walls of the 
 convent. It is built over the supposed site of the house in 
 which the mother of Christ was living, at the time of the 
 angelic annunciation. Under the high altar, a flight of steps 
 leads down to the shrine of the Virgin, on the threshold of the 
 house, where the Angel Gabriel's foot rested, as he stood, with 
 a lily in his hand, announcing the miraculous conception. The 
 shrine, of white marble and gold, gleaming in the light of 
 golden lamps, stands under a rough arch of the natural rock, 
 
T-HE SHRINE OF THE ANNUNCIATION. 101 
 
 from the side of which hangs a heavy fragment of a granite 
 pillar, suspended, as the devout believe, by divine power. Pra 
 Joachim informed me that, when the Moslems attempted to 
 obliterate all tokens of the holy place, this pillar was preserved 
 by^ miracle, that the locality might not be lost to the Chris- 
 tians. At the same time, he said, the angels of God carried 
 away the wooden house which stot3d at the entrance of the 
 grotto ; and, after letting it drop in Marseilles, whDe they 
 rested, picked it up again and set it down in Loretto, where it 
 still remains. As he said this, there was such entire, absolute 
 belief in the good monk's eyes, and such happiness In that 
 belief, that not for ten times the gold on the shrine would I 
 have expressed a doubt of the story. He then bade me kneel, 
 that I might see the spot where the angel stood, and devoutly 
 repeated a paternoster while I contemplated the pure plate of 
 snowy marble, surrounded with vases of fragrant flowers, 
 between which hung cressets of gold, wherein perfumed oils 
 were burning. All the decorations of the place conveyed the 
 idea of transcendent purity and sweetness ; and, for the first 
 time in Palestine, I wished for perfect faith in the spot. Behind 
 the shrine, there are two or three chambers in the rock, which 
 served as habitations for the family of the Yirgin. 
 
 A young Christian Nazarene afterwards conducted me to 
 the House of Joseph, the Carpenter, which is now inclosed in 
 a little chapel. It is merely a fragment of wall, undoubtedly 
 as old as the time of Christ, and I felt willing to consider it a 
 genuine relic. There was an honest roughness about the large 
 stones, inclosing a small room called the carpenter's shop, 
 which I could not find it in my heart to doubt. Besides, in a 
 quiet country town like Nazareth, which has never 'known 
 
102 THE LANDS OF THE BABACEN. 
 
 snch vicissitudes as Jerusalem, much more dependence can be 
 placed on popular tradition. For the same reason, I looked 
 with rererence on the Table of Christ, also inclosed within a 
 chapel. This is a large, natural rock, about nine feet by 
 twelve, nearly square, and quite flat on the top. It is said 
 that it once served as a table for Christ and his Disciples. The 
 building called the School of Christ, where he went with other 
 children of his age, is now a church of the Syrian Christians, 
 who were performing a doleful mass, in Arabic, at the time of 
 my visit. It is a vaulted apartment, about forty feet long, and 
 only the lower part of the wall is ancient. At each of these 
 places, the Nazarene put into my hand a piece of pasteboard, 
 on which was printed a prayer in Latin, Italian, and Arabic, 
 with the information that whoever visited the place, and 
 made the prayer, would be entitled to seven years' indulgence. 
 I duly read all the prayers, and, accordingly, my conscience 
 ought to be at resi for twenty-one years. 
 
DEPARTURE FROM NAZARETH. 103 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THK COUNTRY OF GALILEE. 
 
 Departure from Nazareth — A Christian Guide— Ascent of Mount Tabor— Wallachian 
 Hermits — The Panorama of Tabor — Ride to Tiberias — A Rath in Genesareth — The 
 Flowers of Galilee — The Mount of Beatitude — Magdala — Joseph's Well — Meeting 
 with a Turk— The Fountain of the Salt-Works- The Upper Valley of the Jordan- 
 Summer Scenery— The Rivera of Lebanon— Tell el-Kadi— An Arcadian Region— The 
 Fountains of Banias. 
 
 *' Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green, 
 And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene; 
 And 1 pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to bee 
 The gleam of thy waters, 0. dark Galilee T* — Whittier. 
 
 Basus (Cffisarea Phllippi), May 10, 1852. 
 
 We left Nazareth on tbe morning of the Stti inst. My 
 companion had done so well under the care of Fra Joachim 
 that he was able to ride, and our journey was not delayed by 
 his accident. The benedictions of the good Franciscans accom- 
 panied us as we rode away from the Convent, past the Foun- 
 tain of the Virgin, and out of the pleasant little valley where 
 the boy Jesus wandered for many peaceful years. The Chris- 
 tian guide we engaged for Mount Tabor had gone ahead, and 
 we did not find him until we had travelled for more than two 
 hours among the lulls. As we approached the sacred moun- 
 tain, we came upon the region of oaks — the first oat I had 
 seen since leaving Europe last autumn. There are three or 
 four varieties, some with evergreen foliage, and in their wild 
 
104 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 luxuriance and the pictnresqueness of their forms and gronp- 
 ings, they resemble those of California. The sea of grass and 
 flowers in which they stood was sprinkled with thick tufts of 
 wild oats — another point of resemblance to the latter country. 
 But here, there is no gold; there, no sacred memories. 
 
 The guide was waiting for us beside a spring, among the 
 trees. He was a tall youth of about twenty, with a mild, 
 Bubmissive face, and wore the dark-blue turban, which appears 
 to be the badge of a native Syrian Christian. I found myself 
 involuntarily pitying him for belonging to a despised sect. 
 There is no disguising the fact that one feels much more 
 respect for the Mussulman rulers of the East, than for their 
 oppressed subjects who profess his own faith. The surest way 
 to make a man contemptible is to treat him contemptuously, 
 and the Oriental Christians, who have been despised for centu- 
 ries, are, with some few exceptions, despicable enough. Now, 
 however, since the East has become a favorite field of travel, 
 and the Frank possesses an equal dignity with the Moslem, the 
 native Christians are beginning to hold up their heads, and the 
 return of self-respect will, in the course of time, make them 
 respectable. 
 
 Mount Tabor stands a little in advance of the hill-country, 
 with which it is connected only by a low spur or shoulder, its 
 base being the Plain of Esdraelon. This is probably the 
 reason why it has been fixed upon as the place of the Trans- 
 figuration, as it is not mentioned by name in the New Testa- 
 ment. The words are: " an high mountain apart," which some 
 suppose to refer to the position of the mountain, and not to 
 the remoteness of Christ and the three Disciples from men. 
 The sides of the mountain are covered with clumps of oak, 
 
WALLACHIAN HERMITS. 105 
 
 hawthorn and other trees, in many places overrun with the 
 white honeysuckle, its fingers dropping with odor of nutmeg 
 and cloves. The ascent, by a steep and winding path, occu- 
 pied an hour. The summit is nearly level, and resembles some 
 overgrown American field, or "oak opening." The grass is 
 more than knee-deep ; the trees grow high and strong, and 
 there are tangled thickets and bowers of vines without end. 
 The eastern and highest end of the mountain is covered with 
 the remains of an old fortress-convent, once a place of great 
 strength, from the thickness of its' walls. In a sort of cell 
 formed among the ruins we found two monk-hermits. I 
 addressed them in all languages of which I know a salutation, 
 without effect, but at last made out that they were Walla- 
 chians. They were men of thirty-five, with stupid faces, dirty 
 garments, beards run to waste, and fur caps. Their cell was a 
 mere hovel, without furniture, except a horrid caricature of 
 the Virgin and Child, and four books of prayers in the Bulga- 
 rian character. One of them walked about knitting a stock- 
 ing, and paid no attention to us ; but the other, after giving 
 us some deliciously cold water, got upon a pile of rubbish, and 
 stood regarding us with open mouth while we took breakfast. 
 So far from this being a cause of annoyance, I felt really glad 
 that our presence had agitated the stagnant waters of his 
 mind. 
 
 The day was hazy and sultry, but the panoramic view from 
 Mount Tabor was still very fine. The great Plain of Bsdraelon 
 lay below us like a vast mosaic of green and brown — -jasper 
 and verd-antique. On the west, Mount Carmel lifted his head 
 above the blue horizon line of the Mediterranean. Turning to 
 the other side, a strip of the Sea of Galilee glimmered deep 
 
 5* 
 
106 THE LANDS OP THE SlRACEN. 
 
 down among the hills, and the Ghor, or the Valley of the 
 Jordan, stretched like a broad gash through them. Beyond 
 them, the country of Djebel Adjeloun, the ancient Decapolis, 
 which still holds the walls of Gadara and the temples and 
 theatres of Djerash, faded away into vapor, and, still further 
 to the south, the desolate hills of Gilead, the home of Jeph- 
 thah. Mount Hermon is visible when the atmosphere is clear, 
 but we were not able to see it. 
 
 From the top of Mount Tabor to Tiberias, on the Sea of 
 Galilee, is a journey of five hours, through a wild country, 
 with but one single miserable village on the road. At first 
 we rode through lonely dells, grown with oak and brilhant 
 with flowers, especially the large purple mallow, and then over 
 broad, treeless tracts of rolling land, but partially cultivated. 
 The heat was very great ; I had no thermometer, but should 
 judge the temperature to have been at least 95° in the shade. 
 From the edge of the upland tract, we looked down on the 
 Sea of GaUlee — a beautiful sheet of water sunk among the 
 mountains, and more than 300 feet below the level of the 
 Mediterranean. It lay unruffled in the bottom of the basin, 
 reflecting the peaks of the bare red mountains beyond it. 
 Tiberias was at our very feet, a few palm trees alone relieving 
 the nakedness of its dull walls. After taking a welcome drink 
 at the Fountain of Fig-trees, we descended to the town, which 
 has a desolate and forlorn air. Its walls have been partly 
 thrown down by earthquakes, and never repaired. We found 
 our tents already pitched on the bank above the lake, and 
 under one of the tottering towers. 
 
 Not a breath of air was st'rring ; the red hills smouldered 
 in the heat, and the waters jf Genesareth at our feet glim- 
 
A BATH IN GENESAEETH. 101 
 
 nered with an oily smoothness, unbroken by a ripple. We 
 untwisted our turbans, kicked off our baggy trowsers, and 
 speedily releasing ourselres from the barbarous restraints of 
 dress, dipped into the tepid sea and floated lazily out until we 
 could feel the -exquisite coldness of the living springs which 
 sent up their jets from the bottom. I was lying on my back, 
 moving my fins just sufficiently to keep afloat, and gazing 
 dreamily through half-closed eyes on the forlorn palms of 
 Tiberias, when a shrOl voice hailed me with: "O Howadji, 
 get out of our way I" There, at the old stone gateway below 
 our tent, stood two Galilean damsels, with heavy earthen jars 
 upon their heads. " Go away yourselves, maidens I" 1 
 answered, " if you want us to come out of the water." "But 
 we must fill our pitchers," one of them replied. " Then fill 
 them at once, and be not afraid ; or leave them, and we will 
 fill them for you." Thereupon they put the pitchers down, but 
 remained watching us very complacently while we sank the 
 vessels to the bottom of the lake, and let them fill from the 
 colder and purer tide of the springs. In bringing' them back 
 thrqugh the water to the gate, the one I propelled before me 
 happened to strike against a stone, and its fair owner, on 
 receiving it, immediately pointed to a crack in the side, which 
 she declared I had made, and went off lamenting. After wo 
 had resumed our garments, and were enjoying the pipe of 
 indolence and the coffee of contentment, she returned and 
 made such an outcry, that I was fain to purchase peace by the 
 price of a new pitcher. I passed the first hours of the night 
 in looking out of my tent-door, as I lay, on the stars sparkling 
 in the bosom of Galilee, like the sheen of Assyrian spears, and 
 the glare of the great fires kindled on the opposite shore. 
 
108 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 The next day, we travelled northward along the lake, 
 passing through continuous thickets of oleander, fragrant with 
 its heavy pink blossoms. The thistles were more abundant 
 and beautiful than ever. I noticed, in particular, one with a 
 superb globular flower of a bright blue color, which would 
 make a choice ornament for our gardens at home. At the 
 north-western head of the lake, the mountains fall back and 
 leave a large tract of the richest meadow-land, which narrows 
 away into a deep dell, overhung by high mountain headlands, 
 faced with naked cliffs of red rock. The features of the land- 
 scape are magnificent. Up the dell, I saw plainly the Mount 
 of Beatitude, beyond which lies the village of Cana of Galilee. 
 In coming up the meadow, we passed a miserable little village 
 of thatched mud huts, almost hidden by the rank weeds whicli 
 grew around them. A withered old crone sat at one of the 
 doors, sunning herself. " What is the name of this village ?" 
 I asked. "It is Mejdel," was her reply. This was the 
 ancient Magdala, the home of that beautiful but sinful Mag- 
 dalene, whose repentance has made her one of the brightest of 
 the Saints. The crystal waters of the lake here lave a shore 
 of the cleanest pebbles. The path goes winding through olean- 
 ders, nebbuks, patches of hollyhock, anise-seed, fennel, and 
 other spicy plants, while, on the west, great fields of barley 
 stand ripe for the cutting. In some places, the Fellahs, men 
 and women, were at work, reaping and binding the sheaves. 
 After crossing this, tract, we came to the hill,, at the foot of 
 which was a ruined khan, and on the snmmit, other undistin- 
 guishable ruins, supposed by some to be those of Capernaum. 
 The site of that exalted town, however, is still a matter of 
 discussion. 
 
MEETING WITH A TURK. 109 
 
 We journeyed on in a most sweltering atmosphere over the 
 ascending hills, the valley of the "Upper Jordan lying deep on 
 our right. In a shallow hollow, under one of the highest 
 peaks, there stands a large deserted khao^ over a well of very 
 cold, sweet water, called Bir Youssuf by the Arabs. Some- 
 where near it, according to tradition, is the field where Joseph 
 was sold by his brethren; and the well is, no doubt, looked 
 upon by many as the identical pit into which he was thrown, 
 A stately Turk of Damascus, with four servants behind him, 
 came riding up as we were resting in the gateway of the khan, 
 and, in answer to my question, informed me that the well was 
 so named from Nebbee Youssuf (the Prophet Joseph)., and not 
 from Sultan Joseph Saladin. He took us for Ms countrymen, 
 accosting me first in Turkish, and, even after I had talked with 
 him some time in bad Arabic, asked me whether I had been 
 making a pilgrimage'to the tombs of certain holy Moslem saints, 
 in the neighborhood of Jaffa. He joined company with us, how- 
 ever, and shared his pipe with me, as we continued our journey. 
 We rode for two hours more over hills bare of trees, but 
 covered thick with grass and herbs, and finally lost our way. 
 Frangois went ahead, dashing through" the fields of barley and 
 lentils, and we reached the path again, as the Waters of 
 Merom came in sight. We then descended into the Valley of 
 the TJpper Jordan, and encamped opposite the lake, at Ain el- 
 MeUaha (the Fountain' of the Salt-Works), the first source of 
 the sacred river. A stream of water, sufficient to turn half-a- 
 dozen mills, gushes and gurgles np at the foot of the mountain. 
 There are the remains of an ancient dam, by which a large 
 pool was formed for the irrigation of the valley. It still sup- 
 plies a little Arab mill below the fountain. This is a frontier 
 
110 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 post, between the jurisdictions of the Pashas of Jerusalem 
 and Damascus, and the mukkairee of the Greek Caloyer, whc 
 left ns at Tiberias, was obliged to pay a duty of seven and a 
 half piastres on fifteen mats, which he had bought at Jerusar 
 lem for one and a half piastres each. The poor man will 
 perhaps make a dozen piastres (about half a dollar) on these 
 mats at Damascus, after carrying them on his mule for more 
 than two hundred miles. 
 
 We pitched our tents on the grassy meadow below the 
 mill — a charming spot, with Tell el-Khanzir (the hill of wild 
 boars) just in front, over the Waters of Merom, and the snow- 
 streaked summit of Djebel esh-Shekh — the great Mount Her- 
 mon — towering high above the valley. This is the loftiest 
 peak of the Anti-Lebanon, and is 10,000 feet above the sea. 
 The next morning, we rode for three hours before reaching the 
 second spring of the Jordan, at a place which Frangois called 
 Tell el-Kadi, but which did not at all answer with the descrip- 
 tion given me by Dr. Robinson, at Jerusalem. The upper 
 part of the broad valley, whence the Jordan draws his waters, 
 is flat, moist, and but little cultivated. There are immense 
 herds of sheep, goats, and buffaloes wandering over it. The 
 people are a dark Arab tribe, and live in tents and miserable 
 clay huts. Where the valley begins to slope upward towards 
 the hills, they plant wheat, barley, and lentils. The soil is the 
 fattest brown loam, and the harvests are wonderfully rich. I 
 saw many tracts of wheat, from half a mile to a mile in extent, 
 which would average forty bushels to the acre. Yet the 
 ground is never manured, and the Arab plough scratches up 
 but a few inches of the surface. What a paradise might be 
 made of this country, were it in better hands I 
 
THE STREAMS OF LEBANON. Ill 
 
 The second spring is not quite so large as Ain el-Mellaha ; 
 but, like it, pours out a strong stream from a single source 
 The pool was filled with women, washing the heavy fleeces of 
 their sheep, and beating the dirt out of their striped camel's- 
 hair abas with long poles. We left it, and entered on a slope 
 of stony ground, forming the head of the valley. The view 
 extended southward, to the mountains closing the northern 
 cove of the Sea of Galilee. It was a grand, rich landscape — 
 so rich that its desolation seems forced and unnatural. High 
 on the summit of a mountain to the west, the ruins of a large 
 Crusader fortress looked down upon us. The soil, which 
 slowly climbs upward through a long valley between Lebanon 
 and Anti-Lebanon, is cut with deep ravines. The path is very 
 difficult to find ; and while we were riding forward at random, 
 looking in all directions for our baggage mules, we started up 
 a beautiful gazelle. At last, about noon, hot, hungry, and 
 thirsty, we reached a swift stream, roaring at the bottom of a 
 deep ravine, through a bed of gorgeous foliage. The odo? of 
 the wild grape-blossoms, which came up to us, as we rode along 
 the edge, was overpowering in its sweetness. An old bridge 
 of two arches crossed the stream. There was a pUe of rocks 
 against the central pier, and there we sat and took breakfast 
 in the shade of the maples, while the cold green waters foamed 
 at our feet. By all the Naiads and Tritons, what a joy there 
 is in beholding a running stream ! The rivers of Lebanon are 
 miracles to me, after my knowledge of the Desert. A com- 
 pany of Arabs, seven in all, were gathered under the bridge ; 
 and, from a flute which one of them blew, I judged they were 
 taking a pastoral holiday. We kept our pistols beside us ; for 
 we did not like their looks. Before leaving, they told us that 
 
112' THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the country was full of robbers, and advised us to be on the 
 lookout. We rode more carefully, after this, and kept with 
 our baggage on reaching it. An hour after leaving the bridge, 
 we came to a large circular, or rather annular mound, over- 
 grown with knee-deep grass and clumps of oak-trees. A large 
 stream, of a bright blue color, gushed down the north side, 
 and after half embracing the mound swept off across the 
 meadows to the Waters of Merom. There could be no doubt 
 that this was Tell el-Kadi, the site of Dan, the most northern 
 town of ancient Israel. The mound on which it was built is 
 the crater of an extinct volcano. The Hebrew word Dan 
 signifies "judge," and Tell el-Kadi, in Arabic, is "The Hill of 
 the Judge.'' 
 
 The Anti-Lebanon now rose near us, its northern and 
 western slopes green with trees and grass. The first range, 
 perhaps 5,000 feet in height, shut out the snowy head of Her- 
 mon ; but still the view was sublime in its large and harmoni- 
 ous outlines. Our road was through a country resembling 
 Arcadia — the earth hidden by a dense bed of grass and 
 flowers ; thickets of Blossoming shrubs ; old, old oaks, with 
 the most gnarled of trunks, the most picturesque of boughs, 
 and the glossiest of green leaves ; olive-trees of amazing anti- 
 quity; and, threading and enlivening all, the clear-cold floods 
 of Lebanon. This was the true haunt of Paii, whose altars 
 are now before me, graven on the marble crags of Hermon. 
 Looking on those altars, and on the landscape, lovely as a 
 Grecian dream, I forget that the lament has long been sung : 
 " Pan, Pan is dead 1" 
 
 In another hour, we reached this place, the ancient Csesarea 
 , Philippi, now a poor village, embowered in magnificent trees, 
 
BANIAS. 113 
 
 and washed by glorious waters. There are abundant remains 
 of the old city : fragments of immense walls ; broken granite 
 columns ; traces of pavements ; great blocks of hewn stone ; 
 marble pedestals, and the like. In the rock at the foot of the 
 mountain, there are several elegant niches, with Greek inscrip- 
 tions, besides a large natural grotto. Below them, the water 
 gushes up through the stones, in a hundred streams, forming 
 a flood of considerable size. We have made our camp in an 
 olive grove near the end of the village, beside an immense 
 terebinth tree, which is inclosed in an open court, paved with 
 stone. This is the town-hall of Banias, where the Shekh dis- 
 penses justice, and at the same time, the resort of all the idlers 
 of the place. We went up among them, soon after our arrival, 
 and were given seats of honor near the Shekh, who talked with 
 me a long time about America. The people exhibit a very 
 sensible curiosity, desiring to know the extent of our country, 
 the number of inhabitants, the amount of taxation, the price 
 of grain, and other solid information. 
 
 The Shekh and the men of the place inform us that the 
 Druses are infesting the road to Damascus. This tribe is in 
 rebelUon in Djebel Hauaran, on account of the conscription," 
 and some of them, it appears, have taken refuge in the fast- 
 nesses of Hermon, where they are beginning to plunder tra- 
 vellers. While I was talking with the Shekh, a Druse came 
 down from the mountains, and sat for half an hour among the 
 villagers, under the terebinth, and we have just heard that he 
 has gone back the way he came. This fact has given us some 
 anxiety, as he may have been a spy sent down to gather news ; 
 and, if so, we are almost certain to be waylaid. If we were 
 well armed, we should not fear a dozen, but all our weapons 
 
114 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 consist of a sword and four pistols. After consulting toge- 
 ther, we decided to apply to the Shekh for two armed men, to 
 accompany us. I accordingly went to him again, and exhibited 
 the firman of the Pasha of Jerusalem, which he read, stating 
 that, even without it, he would have felt it his duty to grant 
 our request. This is the graceful way in which \he Orientals 
 submit to a peremptory order. He thinks that one man will 
 be sufficient, as >ve shall probably not meet with any large 
 party. 
 
 The day has been, and still is, excessively hot. The atmos- 
 phere is sweltering, and all around us, over the thick patches of 
 mallow and wild mustard, the bees are humming with a con- 
 tinuous sultry sound. The Shekh, with a number of lazy 
 villagers, is still seated under the terebinth, in a tent of shade, 
 impervious to the sun. I can hear the rush of the fountains of 
 Banias — the holy springs of Hermon, whence Jordan is born. 
 But what is this ? The odor of the velvety weed of Shiraz 
 meets my nostrils ; a dark-eyed son of Pan places the narghi- 
 leh at my feet ; and, bubbling more sweetly than the streams 
 of Jordan, the incense most dear to the god dims the crystal 
 censer, and floats from my lips in rhythmic ejaculations, I, 
 too, am in Arcadia I 
 
C^SAEEA PHILIPPI 116 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OEOSSING THE ANTI-LEBANON. 
 
 The Harmless Guard— Csesarea Fbilippi— The Valley of the Druses— The Sides of Mount 
 Hermon— An Alarm— Threading a Defile — ^Distant view of Djebel Hauaran— Another 
 Alarm — Camp at Eatana — ^We Ride into Damascus. , 
 
 DA1IASCU3, Mwy 12, 1S52. 
 
 We rose early, so as to be ready for a long march. Tlie 
 guard came — a mild-looking Arab — witbout arms ; but on our 
 refusing to take him thus, he brought a Turkish musket, terri- 
 ble to behold, but quite guiltless of any murderous intent. 
 We gave ourselves up to fate, with true Arab resignation, and 
 began ascending the Anti-Lebanon. Up and up, by stony 
 paths, under the oaks, beside the streams, and between the 
 wheat-fields, we climbed for two hours, and at last reached a 
 comb or dividing ridge, whence we could look into a valley on 
 the other side, or rather inclosed between the main chain and 
 the offshoot named Djebel Heish, which stretches away towards 
 the south-east. About half-way up the ascent, we passed the 
 ruined acropolis of Csesarea Philippi, crowning the summit of 
 a lower peak. The walls and bastions cover a great extent of 
 ground, and were evidently used as a stronghold in the Middle 
 Ages. 
 
116 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 The valley into which we descended lay directly under one 
 of the peaks of Hermon and the rUls that watered it were fed 
 from his snow-fields. It was inhabited by Druses, but no men 
 were to be seen, except a few poor husbandmen, ploughing on 
 the mountain-sides. The women, wearing those enormous 
 horns on their heads which distinguish them from the Moham- 
 medan females, were washing at a pool below. We crossed 
 the valley, and slowly ascended the height on the oppo- 
 site side, taking care to keep with the baggage-mules. Up to 
 this time, we met very few persons ; and we forgot the antici- 
 pated perils in contemplating the rugged scenery of the Anti- 
 Lebanon. The mountain-sides were brilliant with flowers, and 
 many new and beautiftll specimens arrested our attention. The 
 asphodel grew in bunches beside the streams, and the large 
 scarlet anemone outshone even the poppy, whose color here is 
 the quintessence of flame. Five hours after leaving Banias, 
 we reached the highest part of the pass — a dreary volcanic 
 region, covered with fragments of lava. Just at this place, 
 an old Arab met us, and, after scanning us closely, stopped 
 and accosted Dervish. The latter immediately came running 
 ahead, quite excited with the news that the old man had seen 
 a company of about fifty Druses descend from the sides of 
 Mount Hermon, towards the road we were to travel. We 
 immediately ordered the baggage to halt, and Mr. Harrison, 
 Frangois, and myself rode on to reconnoitre. Our guard, the 
 valiant man of Banias, whose teeth already chattered with 
 fear, prudently kept with the baggage. We crossed the ridge, 
 and watched the stony mountain-sides for some time ; but no 
 spear or glittering gun-barrel could we see. The caravan was 
 then set in- motion ; and we had not proceeded far before we 
 
VIEW FROM THE ANTI-LEBANON. HI 
 
 met a second company of Arabs, who informed us that the 
 road was free. 
 
 Leaving the heights, we descended cautiously into a ravine 
 with walls of rough volcanic rock on each side. It was a pass 
 where three men might have stood their ground against a 
 hundred ; and we did not feel thoroughly convinced of our 
 safety till we had threaded its many windings and emerged 
 upon a narrow valley. A village called Beit Jenn nestled 
 under the rocks ; and belaw it, a grove of poplar-trees shaded 
 the banks of a rapid stream. We had now fairly crossed the 
 Anti-Lebanon. The dazzling snows of Mount Hermon over- 
 hung us on the west ; and, from the opening of the valley, we 
 looked across a wild, waste country, to the distant range of 
 Djebel Hauaran, the seat of the present rebellion, and one of 
 the most interesting regions of Syria. I regretted more than 
 ever not being able to reach it. The ruins of Bozrah, Ezra, 
 and other ancient cities, would well repay the arduous charac- 
 ter of the journey, while the traveller might succeed in getting 
 some insight into the life and habits of that singular people, 
 the Druses. But now, and perhaps for some time to come, 
 there is no chance of entering the Hauaran. 
 
 Towards the middle of the afternoon, we reached a large 
 village, which is usually the end of the first day's journey from 
 Banias. Our men wanted to stop here, but we considered 
 that to halt then would be to increase the risk, and decided to 
 push on to Katana, four hours' journey from Damascus. They 
 yielded with a bad grace ; and we jogged on over the stony 
 road, crossing the long hills which form the eastern base of the 
 Anti-Lebanon. Before long, another Arab met us with the 
 news that there was an encampment of- Druses on the plain 
 
118 THK LANDS OP THE SAEACEN. 
 
 between ns and Katana. At this, our guard, who had reco« 
 vered sufficient spirit to ride a few paces in advance, fell back, 
 and the impassive Dervish became greatly agitated. Where 
 there is an uncertain danger, it is always better to go ahead 
 than to turn back ; and we did so. But the guard reined up 
 on the top of the first ridge, trembling as he pointed to a dis- 
 tant hill, and cried out : "Akb, aho henak!" (There they are !) 
 There were, in fact, the shadows of some rocks, which bore a 
 faint resemblance to tents. Before sunset, we reached the last 
 declivity of the mountains, and saw far in the dusky plain, the 
 long green belt of the gardens of Damascus, and here and 
 there the indistinct glimmer of a minaret. Katana, our rest- 
 ing-place for the night, lay below us, buried in orchards of olive 
 and orange. We pitched our tents on the banks of a beautiful 
 stream, enjoyed the pipe of tranquillity, after our long march, 
 and soon forgot the Druses, in a slumber that lasted unbroken 
 till dawn. 
 
 In the morning we sent back the man of Banias, left the 
 baggage to take care of itself, and rode on to Damascus, as 
 fast as our tired horses could carry us. The plain, at first 
 barren and stony, became enlivened with vineyards and fields 
 of wheat, as we advanced. Arabs were everywhere at work, 
 ploughing and directing the water-courses. , The belt of living 
 green, the bower in which the great city, the Queen of the 
 Orient, hides her beauty, drew nearer and nearer, stretching 
 out a crescent of foliage for miles on either hand, that gra- 
 dually narrowed and received us into its cool and fragrant 
 heart. We sank into a sea of olive, pomegranate, orange, 
 plum, apricot, walnut, and plane trees, and were lost. The 
 sun sparkled in the rolling surface above ; but we swam 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DRUSES. 119 
 
 through the green depths, below his reach, and thus, drifted 
 on through mUes of shade, entered the city. 
 
 Since our arrival, I find that two other parties of travellers, 
 one of which crossed the Anti-Lebanon on the northern side of 
 Mount Hermon, were obliged to take guards, and saw several 
 Druse spies posted on the heights, as they passed. A Russian 
 gentleman travelling from here to Tiberias, was stopped three 
 times on the road, and only escaped being plundered from the 
 fact of his having a Druse dragoman. The disturbances are 
 more serious than I had anticipated. Four regiments left here 
 yesterday, sent to the aid of a company of cavalry, which is 
 surrounded by the rebels in a valley of Dejebel Hauaran, and 
 unable to get out. 
 
120 THS LANDS OF THE SAKACBK 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PICTURES OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Damascus from the Anti-Lebanon— Entering the City— A Diorama of Bazaars — An 
 Oriental Hotel— Our Ohambei^-The Bazaars— Pipes and Coffee — The Eivcrs of 
 Damascus — Palaces of the Jews — Jewish Ladies — A Christian Gentleman — ^The Sacred 
 Localitiea— Damascus Blades— The Sword of Haroun AI-Raschid— An Arrival from 
 Palmyra. 
 
 " Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of 
 Israel?"— « Kings, v. 12. 
 
 Damascos, Wednesday, Mwy 19, 1862. 
 
 Damascus is considered by many travellers as the best remain- 
 ing type of an Oriental city. Constantinople is semi-Enropean; 
 Cairo is fast becoming so ; but Damascus, away from the 
 highways of commerce, seated alone between the Lebanon and 
 the Syrian Desert, still retains, iu its outward aspect and in 
 the character of its inhabitants, all the pride and fancy and 
 fanaticism of the times of the Caliphs. With this judgment, 
 in general terms, I agree ; but not to its ascendancy, in every 
 respect, over Cairo. True, when you behold Damascus from 
 the Salahiyeh, the last slope of the Anti-Lebanon, it is the 
 realization of all that you have dreamed of Oriental splendor ; 
 the world has no picture more dazzling. It is Beauty carried 
 to the Sublime, as I have felt when overlooking some bound- 
 less forest of palms within the tropics. From the hill, whoso 
 
DAMASCUS FROM THE ANTI-LEBANON. 121 
 
 ridges heave behind you until in the south they rise to the 
 snowy head of Mount" Hermon, the great Syrian plain 
 stretches away to the Euphrates, brolien at distances of ten 
 and fifteen miles, by two detached mountain chains. In a ter^ 
 rible gorge at your side, the river Barrada, the ancient 
 Pharpar, forces its way to the plain, and its waters, divided 
 into twelve different channels, make all between you and those 
 blue island-hills of the desert, one great garden, the boundaries 
 of which your vision can barely distinguish. Its longest 
 diameter cannot be less than twenty miles. You look down on 
 a world of foliage, and fruit, and blossoms, whose hue, by 
 contrast with the barren mountains and the yellow rim of the 
 desert which incloses it, seems brighter than all other gardens 
 in the world. Through its centre, following the course of the 
 river, lies Damascus ; a line of white walls, topped with domes 
 and towers and tall minarets, winding away for miles through 
 the green sea. Nothing less than a city of palaces, whose 
 walls are marble and whose doors are ivory and pearl, could 
 keep up the enchantment of that distant view. 
 
 We rode for an hour through the gardens before entering 
 the gate. The fruit-trees, of whatever variety — walnut, olive, 
 apricot, or fig — were the noblest of their kind. Eoses and 
 pomegranates in bloom starred the dark foliage, and the 
 scented jasmine overhung the walls. But as we approached 
 the city, the view was obscured by high mud walls on either 
 side of the road, and we only caught glimpses now and then 
 of the fragrant wilderness. The fiirst street we entered was 
 low and mean, the houses of clay. Following this, we came 
 to an uncovered bazaar, with rude shops on either side, pro- 
 tected by mats stretched in front and supported by polei, 
 
 6 
 
122 THE LANDS OF THK SAEACEN. 
 
 Here all sorts of common stuffs and utensils were sold, and 
 the street was filled with crowds of Fellahs and Desert Arabs. 
 Two large sycamores shaded it, and the Seraglio of the Pasha 
 of Damascus, a plain two-story building, faced the entrance of 
 the main bazaar, which branched, off into the city. We turned 
 into this, and after passing through several small bazaars 
 stocked with dried fruits, pipes and pipe-bowls, groceries, and 
 all the primitive wares of the East, reached a large passage, 
 covered with a steep wooden roof, and entirely occupied by 
 Tenders of silk stuffs. Out of this we passed through another, 
 devoted to saddles and bridles ; then another, fuU of spices, 
 and at last reached the grand bazaar, where all the richest 
 stuffs of Europe and the East were displayed in the shops. 
 We rode slowly along through the cool twilight, crossed here 
 and there by long pencils of white light, falling through 
 apertures in the roof, and illuminating the gay turbans and silk 
 caftans of the lazy merchants. But out of this bazaar, at 
 intervals, opened the grand gate of a khan, giving us a view of 
 its marble court, its fountains, and the dark arches of its store- 
 rooms ; or the door of a mosque, with its mosaic flobr and pil- 
 lared corridor. The interminable lines of bazaars, with their 
 atmospheres of spice and fruit and fragrant tobacco; the 
 hushed tread of the slippered crowds ; the plash of falling foun- 
 tains and the bubbling of innumerable narghilehs ; the pictur- 
 esque merchants and their customers, no longer in the big 
 trowsers of Egypt, but the long caftans and abas of Syria • 
 the absence of Frank faces and dresses — ^in all these there was 
 the true spirit of the Orient, and so far, we were charmed 
 with Damascus. 
 At the hotel in the Soog el-Har^b, or Frank quarter, the 
 
AN ORIENTAL HOTEL. 123 
 
 illasion was not dissipated. It had once been the house of 
 some rich merchant. The court into which we were ushered 
 is paved with marble, with a great stone basin, surrounded with 
 vases of flowering plants, in the centre. Two large lemon 
 trees shade the entrance, and a vine; climbing to the top of 
 the house, makes a leafy arbor over the flat roof. The walls 
 of the house are painted in horizontal bars of blue, white, 
 orange and white — a gay grotesqueness of style which does 
 not offend the eye under an eastern sun. On the southern 
 side of the court is the liwan, an arrangement for which the 
 houses of Damascus are noted. It is a vaulted apartment, 
 twenty feet high, entirely open towards the court, except a fine 
 pointed arch at the top, decorated with encaustic ornaments of 
 the most brilliant colors. In front, a tesselated pavement of 
 marble leads to the doors of the chambers on each side. 
 Beyond this is a raised floor covered with matting, and along 
 the farther end a divan, whose piled cushions are the most 
 tempting trap ever set to catch a lazy man. Although not 
 naturally indolent, I find it impossible to resist the fascination 
 of this lounge. Leaning back, cross-legged, against the 
 cushions, with the inseparable pipe in one's hand, the view of 
 the court, the water-basin, the flowers and lemon trees, the 
 servants and dragomen going back and forth, or smoking their 
 narghilehs in the shad©— all framed in the beautiful arched 
 entrance, is so perfectly Oriental, so true a tableau from the 
 times of good old Haroun Al-Raschid, that one is surprised to 
 find how many hours have slipped away while he has been 
 sileatly enjoying it. 
 
 Opposite the liwan is a large room paved with marble, with 
 a handsome fountain in the centre. It is the finest in. the 
 
124 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 hotel, and now occupied by Lord Dalkeith and his friends. 
 Our own room is on the upper floor, and is so rich in decora- 
 tions that I have not yet finished the study of them. Along 
 the side, looking down on the court, we have a mosaic floor of 
 white, red, black and yellow marble. Above this is raised a 
 second floor, carpeted and furnished in European style. The 
 walls, for a height of ten feet, are covered with wooden panel- 
 ling, painted with arabesque devices in the gayest colors, and 
 along the top there is a series of Arabic inscriptions in gold. 
 There are a number of niches or open closets in the walls, 
 whose arched tops are adorned with pendent wooden orna- 
 ments, resembling stalactites, and at the corners of the room 
 the heavy gilded and painted cornice drops into similar gro- 
 tesque incrustations. A space of bare white wall intervenes 
 between this cornice and the ceiling, which is formed of slim 
 poplar logs, laid side by side, and so covered with paint and 
 with scales and stripes and network devices in gold and silver, 
 that one would take them to be clothed with the skins of the 
 magic serpents that guard the Valley of Diamonds. My most 
 satisfactory remembrance of Damascus will be this room. 
 
 My walks through the city have been almost wholly confined 
 to the bazaars, which are of immense extent. One can walk 
 for manymUes, without going beyond the cover of their peaked 
 wooden roofs, and in all this round will find no two precisely 
 alike. One is devoted entirely to soap ; another to tobacco, 
 through which you cough and sneeze your way to the bazaar 
 of spices, and delightedly inhale its perfumed air. Then there 
 is the bazaar of sweetmeats ; of vegetables ; of red slippers ; 
 of shawls ; of caftans ; of bakers and ovens ; of wooden ware ; 
 of jewelry — a great stone building, covered with vaulted pas- 
 
BAZAARS AND CAPfis. 125 
 
 sages ; of Aleppo silks ; of Baghdad carpets ; of Indian stuffs ; 
 of coffee ; and so on, through a seemingly endless variety. As 
 I have already remarked, along the line of the bazaars are 
 many khans, the resort of merchants from all parts of Turkey 
 and Persia, and even India. They are large, stately buildings, 
 and some of them have superb gateways of sculptured marble. 
 The interior courts are paved with stone, with fountains in the 
 centre, and many of them are covered with domes resting on 
 massive pillars. The largest has a roof of nine domes, sup- 
 ported by four grand pillars, which inclose a fountain. The 
 mosques, into which no Christian is allowed to enter, are in 
 general inferior to those of Cairo, but their outer courts are 
 always paved with marble, adorned with fountains, and sur- 
 rounded by light and elegant corridors. The grand mosque is 
 an imposing edifice, and is said to occupy the site of a former 
 Christian church. 
 
 Another pleasant feature of the city is its coffee shops, 
 which abound in the bazaars and on the outskirts of the gar- 
 dens, beside the running streams. Those in the bazaars are 
 spacious rooms with vaulted ceilings, divans running around 
 the four walls, and fountains in the centre. During the after- 
 noon they are nearly always filled with Turks, Armenians and 
 Persians, smoking the narghileh, or water-pipe, which is the 
 universal custom in Damascus. The Persian tobacco, brought 
 here by the caravans from Baghdad, is renowned for this kind 
 of smoking. The most popular coffee-shop is near the citadel, 
 on the banks and over the surface of the Pharpar. It is a 
 rough wooden building, with a roof of straw mats, but the 
 sight and sound of the rushing waters, as they shoot away with 
 arrowy swiftness under your feet, the shade of the trees that 
 
126 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 line the banks, and the cool breeze that always visits the 
 spot, beguile you into a second pipe ere you are aware. " El 
 md, vja d khbdra, wa el widj el hassan — water, verdure and a 
 beautiful face," says an old Arab proverb, " are three things 
 which delight the heart," and the Syrians avow that all three 
 are to be found in Damascus. I^ot only on the three Sundays 
 of each week, but every day, in the gardens about the city, 
 you may see whole families (and if Jews or Christians, many 
 groups of families) spending the day in the shade, beside the 
 beautiful waters. There are several gardens fitted up pur- 
 posely for these pic-nics, with kiosks, fountains and pleasant 
 eeats under the trees. Ycu bring your pipes, yonr provisions 
 and the like with you, but servants are in attendance to furnish 
 fire and water and coffee, for which, on leaving, you give them 
 a small gratuity. Of all the Damascenes I have yet seen, 
 there is not one but declares his city to be the Garden of the 
 World, the Pearl of the Orient, and thanks God and the 
 Prophet for having pennitted Mm to be bom and to live in it. 
 But, except the bazaars, the khans and the baths, of which 
 there are several most luxurious establishments, the city itself 
 is neither so rich nor so purely Saracenic in its architecture as 
 Cairo. The streets are narrow and dirty, and the houses, 
 which are never more than two low stories in height, are built 
 of sun-dried bricks, coated with plaster. I miss the solid piles 
 of stone, the elegant doorways, and, above all, the exquisite 
 hanging balconies of carved wood, which meet one in the 
 old streets of Cairo. Damascus is the representative of all 
 that is gay, brilliant, and picturesque, in Oriental life; but for 
 stately magnificQuoe, Cairo, and, I suspect, Baghdad, is its 
 superior. 
 
PALACES OF THE JETS. 127 
 
 We visited the other day the houses of some of the richest 
 Jews and Christians. Old Abou-Ibrahim, the Jewish servant 
 of the hotel, accompanied and introduced us. It is customary 
 for travellers to make these visits", and the families, far from 
 being annoyed, are flattered by it. The exteriors of the 
 houses are mean ; but after threading a narrow passage, we 
 emerged into a court, rivalling in profusion of ornament and 
 rich contrast of colors one's early idea of the Palace of Alad- 
 din. The floors and fountains are all of marble mosaic ; the 
 arches of the liwan, glitter with gold, and the walls bewilder 
 the eye with the intricacy of their adornments. In the first 
 house, we were received by the family in a room of precious 
 marbles, with niches in the walls, resembling grottoes of silver 
 stalactites. The cushions of the divan were of the richest sUk, 
 and a chandelier of Bohemian crystal hung from the ceiling. 
 Silver narghilehs were brought to us, and coffee was served in 
 heavy silver zerfs. The lady of the house was a rather corpu- 
 lent lady of about thirty-five, and wore a semi-European robe 
 of embroidered silk and lace, with full trowsers gathered at 
 the ankles, and yellow slippers. Her black hair was braided, 
 and fastened at the end with golden ornaments, and the light 
 scarf twisted around her head blazed with diamonds. The lids 
 of her large eyes were stained with kokl, and her eyebrows 
 were plucked out and shaved away so as to leave only a thin, 
 arched line, as if drawn with a pencil, above each eye. Her 
 daughter, a girl of fifteen, who bore the genuine Hebrew name 
 of Rachel, had even bigger and blacker eyes than her mother ; 
 but her forehead was low, her mouth large, and the expression 
 of her face exceedingly stupid. The father of the family was a 
 middle-aged man, with a well-bred air, and talked with an 
 
128 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 Oriental politeness which was yery refreshing. An English 
 lady, who was of our party, said to him, through me, that if 
 she possessed such a house she should be willing to remain 
 in Damascus. " Why does she leave, then ?" he immediately 
 answered : " this is her house, and everything that is in 
 it." Speaking of visiting Jerusalem, he asked me whether it 
 was not a more beautiful city than Damascus. " It is not 
 more beautiful," I said, " but it is more holy," an expression 
 which the whole company received with great satisfaction. 
 
 The second honse we visited was even larger and richer than 
 the first, but had an air of neglect and decay. The slabs of 
 rich marble were loose and broken, about the edges of the 
 fountains ; the rich painting of the wood-work was beginning 
 to fade ; and the balustrades leading to the upper chambers 
 were broken off in places. We were ushered into a room, the 
 walls and ceilings of which were composed entirely of gilded 
 arabesque frame-work, set with small mirrors. When new, it 
 must have had a gorgeous effect ; but the gold is now tar- 
 nished, and the glasses dim. The mistress of the house was 
 seated on the cushions, dividing her time between her pipe and 
 her needle-work. She merely made a slight inclination of her 
 head as we entered, and went on with her occupation. Pre- 
 sently her two daughters and an Abyssinian slave appeared, 
 and took their places on the cushions at her feet, the whole 
 forming a charming group, which I regretted some of my 
 artist friends at home could not see. The mistress was so 
 exceedingly dignified, that she bestowed but few words on us. 
 She seemed to'resent our admiration of the slave, who was a 
 most graceful creature ; yet her jealousy, it afterwards appear- 
 ed, had reference to her own husband, for we had scarcely le% 
 
A CHRISTIAN GENTLEitAN. 129 
 
 when a servant followed to Inform the English lady that if she 
 was willing to buy the Abyssinian, the mistress would sell her 
 at once for two thousand piastres. 
 
 The last visit we paid was to the dwelling of a Maronite, 
 the richest Christian in Damascus. The house resembled 
 those we had already seen, except that, having been recently 
 built, it was in better condition, and exhibited better taste 
 in the ornaments. No one but the lady was allowed to enter 
 the female apartments, the rest of us being entertained by the 
 proprietor, a man of fifty, and without exception the hand- 
 somest and most dignified person of that age I have ever seen. 
 He was a king without a throne, and fascinated me completely 
 by the noble elegance of his manner. In any country but the 
 Orient, I should have pronounced him incapable of an unwor- 
 thy thought : here, he may be exactly the reverse. 
 
 Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the 
 world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there 
 are very few relics of antiquity in or near it. In the bazaar 
 are three large pillars, supporting half the pediment, which are 
 said to have belonged to the Christian Church of St. John, 
 but, if so, that church must have been originally a Roman 
 temple. Part of the Roman walls and one of the city gates 
 remain; and we saw the spot where, according to tradition, 
 Saul was let down from the wall in a basket. There are two 
 localities pointed out as the scene of his conversion, which, 
 from his own account, occurred near the city. I visited a 
 subterranean chapel claimed by the Latin monks to be the 
 cellar of the house of Ananias, in which the Apostle was 
 concealed. The cellar is, undoubtedly, of great antiquity; but 
 as the whole quarter was for many centuries inhabited wholly 
 
 6* 
 
130 THE LANDS 07 THS SAEACEIT. 
 
 # 
 
 by Turks, it would be curious to know how the monks ascer- 
 tained which was the house of Ananias. As for the " street 
 called Straight," it would be difficult at present to find any in 
 Damascus corresponding to that epithet. 
 
 The famous Damascus blades, so renowned in the time 
 of the Crusaders, are made here no longer. The art has been 
 lost for three or four centuries. Yet genuine old swords, of 
 the true steel, are occasionally to be found. They are readily 
 distinguished from modem imitations by their clear and silvery 
 ring when struck, and by the finely watered appearance of the 
 blade, produced by its having been first made of woven wire, 
 and then worked over and over again until it attained the 
 requisite temper. A droll Turk, who is the skekh edrddldl, or 
 Chief of the Auctioneers, and is nicknamed Abou-Anteeka (the 
 Father of the Antiques^, has a large collection of sabres, dag- 
 gers, pieces of mail, shields, pipes, rings, seals, and other ancient 
 articles. He demands enormous prices, but generally takes 
 about one-third of what he first asks. I have spent several 
 hours in his curiosity shop, bargaining for turquoise rings, car- 
 buncles, Persian amulets, and Circassian daggers. While 
 looking over some old swords the other day, I noticed one of 
 exquisite temper, but with a shorter blade than usual. The 
 point had apparently been snapped off in fight, but owing to 
 the excellence of the sword, or the owner's affection for it, the 
 steel had been carefully shaped into a new point. Abou- 
 Anteeka asked five hundred piastres, and I, who had taken a 
 particular fancy to possess it, offered him two hundred in an 
 indifferent way, and then laid it aside to examine other 
 articles. After his refusal to accept my offer, I said nothing 
 more, and was leaving the shop, when the old fellow called me 
 
THE SWORD OF HAROUN. 131 
 
 back, saying : " You have forgotten your sword," — ^which 
 I thereupon took at my own price. I have shown it to Mr. 
 Wood, the British Consul, who pronounced it an extremely 
 fine specimen of Damascus steel ; and, on reading the inscrip- 
 tion enamelled upon the blade, ascertains that it was made in 
 the year of the Hegira, 181, which corresponds to a.d. 198. 
 This was during the Caliphate of Haroun Al-Raschid, and 
 who knows but the sword may have once flashed in the 
 presence of that great and glorious sovereign — ^nay, been 
 drawn by his own . hand I Who knows but that the Milan 
 armor of the Crusaders may have shivered its point, on 
 the field of Askalon I I kiss the veined azure of thy blade, 
 O Sword of Haroun ! I hang the crimson cords of thy scab- 
 bard upon my shoulder, and thou shalt henceforth clank in sil- 
 ver music at my side, singing to my ear, and mine alone, thy 
 chants of battle, thy rejoicing songs of slaughter I 
 
 Yesterday evening, three gentlemen of Lord Dalkeith's 
 party arrived from a trip to Palmyra. The road thither lies 
 through a part of the Syrian Desert belonging to the Aneyzeh 
 tribe, who are now supposed to be in league with the Druses, 
 against the Government. Including this party, only six per- 
 sons have succeeded in reaching Palmyra within a year, and 
 two of them, Messrs. Noel and Cathcart, were imprisoned four 
 days by the Arabs, and only escaped by the accidental depar- 
 ture of a caravan for Damascus. The present party was 
 obliged to travel almost wholly by night, running the gauntlet 
 of a dozen Arab encampments, and was only allowed a day's 
 stay at Palmyra. They were all disguised as Bedouins, 
 and took nothing with them but the necessary provisions. 
 They made their appearance here last evening, in long, white 
 
132 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 abag, with the Bedouin ktffk bound oyer their heads, their 
 faces burnt, their eyes inflamed, and their frames feverish with 
 seven* days and nights of travel. The shekh who conducted 
 them was not an Aneyzeh, and would have lost his life had 
 they fallen in with any of that tribe. 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 183 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 
 
 " Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting. 
 Possessed beyond the Muse's painting." 
 
 COLUSB. 
 
 During my stay in Damascus, that insatiable curiosity which 
 leads me to prefer the acquisition of all lawful knowledge 
 through the channels of my own personal experience, rather 
 than in less satisfactory and less laborious ways, induced me to 
 make a trial of the celebrated Hasheesh — that remarkable drug 
 which supplies the luxurious Syrian with dreams more alluring 
 and more gorgeous than the Chinese extracts from his darling 
 opium pipe. The use of Hasheesh — which is a preparation of 
 the dried leaves of the caimahis indica — has been familiar to 
 the East for many centuries. During the Crusades, it was 
 frequently used by the Saracen warriors to stimulate them to 
 the work of slaughter, and from the Arabic term of " Hasha- 
 sheen," or Eaters of Hasheesh, as applied to them, the word 
 " assassin " has been naturally derived. An infusion of the 
 same plant gives to the drink called " bhang," which is in com- 
 mon use throughout India and Malaysia, its peculiar properties. 
 Thus prepared, it is a more fierce and fatal stimulant than the 
 paste of sugar and spices to which the Turk resorts, as the 
 food of his voluptuous evening reveries. While its immediate 
 effects seem to be more potent than those of opium, its 
 
134 THE LANDS OF THE SABACENi 
 
 habitual use, though attended -with ultimate and permanent 
 injury to the system, rarely results in such utter wreck of 
 mind and body as that to which the votaries of the latter drug 
 inevitably condemn themselves. 
 
 A previous experience of the effects of hasheesh — which I 
 took once, and in a very mild form, while in Egypt — ^was so 
 peculiar in its character, that my curiosity, instead of beirig 
 satisfied, only prompted me the more to throw myself, for once, 
 wholly under its influence. The sensations it then produced 
 were those, physically, of exquisite lightness and airiness — 
 mentally, of a wonderfully keen perception of the ludicrous, in 
 the most simple and familiar objects. D-uring the half hour in 
 which it lasted, I was at no time so far under its control, that 
 I could not, with the clearest perception, study the changes 
 through which I passed. I noted, with careful attention, the 
 fine sensations which spread throughout the whole tissue of my 
 nervous filire, each thrill helping to divest my frame of its 
 earthy and material nature, until my substance appeared to 
 me no grosser than the vapors of the atmosphere, and while 
 sitting in the calm of the Egyptian twilight, I expected to be 
 lifted up and carried away by the first breeze that should ruffle 
 the Nile. While this process was going on, the objects by 
 which I was surrounded assumed a strange and whimsical 
 expression. My pipe, the oars which my boatmen plied, the 
 turban worn by the captain, the water-jars and culinary imple- 
 ments, became in themselves so inexpressibly absurd and com- 
 ical, that I was provoked into a long fit of laughter. The 
 hallucination died away as gradually as it came, leaving me 
 overcome with a soft and pleasant drowsiness, from which I 
 sank into a deep, refreshing sleep. 
 
THE VISIONS OP HASHEE3H. 135 
 
 My companion and an English gentleman, who, with Ma 
 wife, was also residing in Antonio's pleasant caravanserai — 
 agreed to join me in the experiment. The dragoman of the 
 latter was deputed to procure a sufficient quantity of the drug. 
 He was a dark Egyptian, speaking only the lingua franca of 
 the East, and asked me, as he took the money and departed 
 •on his mission, whether he should get hasheesh "per ridere, o 
 per dormire 1" " Oh, per ridere, of course," I answered ; "and 
 see that it be strong and fresh.'' It is customary with the 
 Syrians to take a small portion immediately before the evening 
 meal, as it is thus diffused through the stomach and acts more 
 gradually, as well as more gently, upon the system. As our 
 dinner-hour was at sunset, I proposed taking hasheesh at that 
 time, but my Mends, fearing that its operation might be more 
 speedy upon fresh subjects, and thus betray them into some 
 absurdity in the presence of the other travellers, preferred 
 waiting until after the meal. It was then agreed that we 
 should retire to our room, which, as it rose like a tower one 
 story higher than the rest of the building, was in a manner 
 isolated, and would screen us from observation. 
 
 We commenced by taking a tea-spoonful each of the mixture 
 which AbdaUah had procured. This was about the quantity I 
 had taken in Egypt, and as the effect then had been so slight, 
 I judged that we ran no risk of taking an over-dose. The 
 strength of the drug, however, must have been far greater in 
 this instance, for whereas I could in the former case distinguish 
 no lavor but that of sugar and rose leaves, I now found the 
 taste intensely bitter and repulsive to the palate. We allowed 
 the paste to dissolve slowly on our tongues, and sat some time, 
 quietly waiting the result. But, having been taken upon a 
 
136 THE LANDS Ci. THE SARACEN. 
 
 full stomach, its operation was hindered, and after the lapse 
 of nearly an hour, we could not detect the least change in our 
 feelings. My friends loudly expressed their conviction of the 
 humbug of hasheesh, but I, unwilling to give up the experi- 
 ment at this point, proposed that we should take an additional 
 half spoonful, and follow it with a cup of hot tea, which, if 
 there were really any virtue in the preparation, could not fail 
 to call it into action. This was done, though not without 
 some misgivings, as we were all ignorant of the precise quan- 
 tity which constituted a dose, and the limits within which the 
 drug could be taken with safety. It was now ten o'clock ; the 
 streets of Damascus were gradually becoming silent, and the 
 fair city was bathed in the yellow lustre of the Syiian moon. 
 Only in the marble court-yard below us, a few dragomen and 
 mukkairee lingered under the lemon-trees, and beside the foun- 
 tain in the centre. 
 
 I was seated alone, nearly in the middle of the room, talking 
 with my friends, who were lounging upon a sofa placed in a 
 sort of alcove, at the farther end, when the same fine nervous 
 thrill, of which I have spoken, suddenly shot through me. 
 But this time it was accompanied with a burning sensation at 
 the pit of the stomach ; and, instead of growing upon me with 
 the gradual pace of healthy slumber, and resolving me, as 
 before, into air, it came with the intensity of a pang, and shot 
 throbbing along the nerves to the extremities of my body. The 
 sense of limitation — of the confinement of our senses within 
 the bounds of our own flesh and blood — ^instantly fell away. 
 The walls of my frame were burst outward and tumbled into 
 ruin ; and, without thinking what form I wore — ^losing sight 
 even of all idea of form — I felt that I existed throaghont a 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH 131 
 
 ■vast extent of space. The blood, pulsed from my heart, sped 
 through uncounted leagues before it reached my extremities ; 
 the air drawn into my lungs expanded into seas of limpid 
 ether, and the arch of my skull was broader than the vault of 
 heaven: Within the concave that held my brain, were the 
 fathomless deeps of blue ; clouds floated there, and the winds 
 of heaven' rolled them together, and there shone the orb of the 
 sun. It was — though I thought not of that at the time — like 
 a revelation of the mystery of omnipresence. It is diffcult to 
 describe this sensation, or the rapidity with which it mastered 
 me. In the state of mental exaltation in which I was then 
 plunged, all sensations, as they rose, suggested more or less 
 coherent images. They presented themselves to me in a double 
 form : one physical, and .therefore to a certain extent tangible ; 
 the other spiritual, and revealing itself in a succession of splen- 
 did metaphors. The physical feeling of extended being was 
 accompanied by the image of an exploding meteor, not sub- 
 siding into darkness, but continuing to shoot from its centre or 
 nucleus — which corresponded to the burning spot at the pit of 
 my stomach — incessant adumbrations of light that finally lost 
 themselves in the infinity of space. To my mind, even now, 
 this image is still the best illustration of my sensations, as I 
 recall them ; but I greatly doubt whether the reader will find 
 it equally clear. 
 
 My curiosity was now in a way of being satisfied ; the 
 Spirit (demon, shall I not rather say?) of Hasheesh had entire 
 possession of me. I was cast upon the flood of his illusions, and 
 drifted helplessly whithersoever they might choose to bear me. 
 The thrUls which ran through my nervous system became more 
 rapid and fierce, accompanied with sensations that steeped, my 
 
138 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 whole being in unutterable rapture. I was encompassed by a 
 sea of light, through which played the pure, harmonious colors 
 that are born of light. While endearoring, in broken expres- 
 sions, to describe my feelings to my friends, who sat looking 
 upon me incredulously — ^not yet having been affected by the 
 drug — I suddenly found myself at the foot of the great Pyra- 
 mid of Cheops. The tapering courses of yellow limestone 
 gleamed hke gold in the sun, and the pile rose so high that it 
 seemed to lean fgr support upon the blue arch of the sky. I 
 wished to ascend it, and the wish alone placed me immediately 
 upon its apex, lifted thousands of feet above the wheat-fields 
 and palm-groves of Egypt. I cast my eyes downward, and, 
 to my astonishment, saw that it was built, not of limestone, 
 but of huge square plugs of Cavendish tobacco 1 Words can- 
 not paint the overwhelming sense of the ludicrous which I 
 then experienced. I writhed on my chair in an agony of 
 laughter, which was only relieved by the vision melting away 
 like a dissolving view ; till, out of my confusion of indistinct 
 images and fragments of images, another and more wonderful 
 vision arose. 
 
 The more vividly I recall the scene which followed, the more 
 carefully I restore its different features, and separate the many 
 threads of sensation which it wove into one gorgeous web, the 
 more I despair of representing its exceeding glory. I was 
 moving over the Desert, not upon the rocking dromedary, but 
 seated in a barque made of mother-of-pearl, and studded with 
 jewels of surpassing lustre. The sand was of grains of gold, 
 and my keel slid through them without jar or sound. The air 
 was radiant with excess of light, though no sun was to be seen. 
 I inhaled the most delicious perfumes ; and harmonies, such as 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 139 
 
 Beethoven may have heard in dreams, bat never wrote, floated 
 around me. The atmosphere itself was light, odor, music ; 
 and each and all sublimated beyond anything the sober senses 
 are capable of receiving. Before me — ^for a thousand leagues, 
 as it seemed — stretched a vista of rainbows, whose colors 
 gleamed with the splendor of gems — arches of living amethyst, 
 sapphire, emerald, topaz, and ruby. By thousands and tens 
 of thousands, they flew past me, as my dazzling barge sped 
 down the magnificent arcade ; yet the vista still stretched as 
 far as ever before me. I revelled in a sensuous elysium, which 
 was perfect, because no sense was left ungratified. But beyond 
 all, my mind was filled with a boundless feeling of triumph. 
 My journey was that of a conqueror — ^not of a conqueror who 
 subdues his race, either by Love or by Will, for I forgot that 
 Man existed — but one vicforions over the grandest as well as 
 the subtlest forces of Nature. The spirits of Light, Color, 
 Odor, Sound, and Motion were my slaves ; and, having these, 
 I was master of the universe. 
 
 Those who are endowed to any extent with the imaginative 
 faculty, must have at least once in their lives experienced feel- 
 ings which may give them a clue to the exalted sensuous 
 raptures of my triumphal mareli The view of a sublime 
 mountain landscape, the hearing of a grand orchestral -sym- 
 phony, or of a choral upborne by the " full-voiced organ," or 
 even the beauty and luxury of a cloudless summer day, sug- 
 gests emotions simila,r in kind, if less intense. They took a 
 warmth and glow from that pure animal joy which degrades 
 not, but spiritualizes and ennobles our material part, and 
 which differs from cold, abstract, intellectual enjoyment, as the 
 flaming diamond of the Orient differs from the icicle of the 
 
140 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 North. Those finer senses, which occupy a middle ground 
 between our animal and intellectual appetites, were suddenly 
 . developed to a pitch beyond what I had ever dreamed, and 
 being thus at one and the same time gratified to the fullest 
 extent of their preternatural capacity, the result was a single 
 harmonious sensation, to describe which human language has 
 no epithet. Mahomet's Paradise, with its palaces of ruby and 
 emerald, its airs of musk and cassia, and its rivers colder than 
 snow and sweeter than honey, would have been a poor and 
 mean terminus for my arcade of rainbows. Yet in the charac- 
 ter of this paradise, in the gorgeous fancies of the Arabian 
 Nights, in the glow and luxury of all Oriental poetry, I now 
 recognize more or less of the agency of hasheesh. 
 
 The fulness of my rapture expanded the sense of time ; and 
 though the whole vision was profeably not more than five 
 minutes in passing through my mind, years seemed to have 
 elapsed while I shot under the dazzling myriads of rainbow 
 arches. By and by, the rainbows, the barque of pearl and 
 jewels, and the desert of golden sand, vanished ; and, still 
 bathed in light and perfume, I found myself in a land of green 
 and flowery lawns, divided by hills of gently undulating out- 
 line. But, although the vegetation was the richest of' earth, 
 there were neither streams nor fountains to be seen ; and the 
 people who came from the hUls, with brilliant garments that 
 shone in the sun, besought me to give them the blessing of 
 water. Their hands were full of branches of the coral honey- 
 suckle, in bloom. These I took ; and, breaking off the flowers 
 one by one, set them- in the earth. The slender, trumpet-like 
 tubes immediately became shafts of masonry, and sank deep 
 into the earth ; the lip of the flower changed into a circular 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 141 
 
 mouth of rose-colored marble, and the people, leaning over its 
 brink, lowered their pitchers to the bottom with cords, and 
 drew them up again, filled to the brim, and dripping ,with 
 honey. 
 
 The most remarkable feature of these illusions was, that at 
 the time when I was most completely under their influence, I 
 knew myself to be seated in the tower of Antonio's hotel in 
 Damascus, knew that I had taken hasheesh, and that the 
 strange, gorgeeus and ludicrous fancies which possessed ■ me, 
 were the effect of it. At the very same instant that I looked 
 upon the Valley of the Nile from the pyramid, slid over the 
 Desert, or created my marvellous wells in that beautiful pasto- 
 ral country, I saw the furniture of my room, its mosaic pave- 
 ment, the quaint Saracenic niches in the walls, the painted and 
 gilded beams of the ceiling, and the couch in the recess before 
 me, with my two companions watching me. Both sensations 
 were simultaneous, and equally palpable. While I was most 
 given up to the magnificent delusion, I saw its cause and felt 
 its absurdity most clearly. Metaphysicians say that the mind 
 is incapable of performing two operations at the same time, 
 and may attempt to explain this phenomenon by supposing a 
 rapid and incessant vibration of the perceptions between the 
 two states. This explanation, however, is not satisfactory to 
 me ; for not more clearly does a skilful musician with the 
 same breath blow two distinct musical notes from a bugle, than 
 I was conscious of two distinct conditions of being in the same 
 moment. Yet, singular as it may seem, neither conflicted with 
 the other. My enjoyment of the visions was complete and 
 absolute, undisturbed by the faintest doubt of their reality ; 
 trhile, in some other chamber of my brain, Reason sat coolly 
 
142 THE LAKD3 OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 watching them, and heaping the liveliest ridicule on their fan' 
 tastic features. One set of nerves was thrilled with the bliss 
 of the gods, while another was convulsed with nnqnenchable 
 laughter at that very bliss. My highest ecstacies could not 
 bear down and silence the weight of my ridicule, which, in its 
 turn, was powerless to prevent me from running into other and 
 more gorgeous absurdities. I was double, not "swan and 
 shadow," but rather. Sphinx-like, human and beast. A true 
 Sphinx, I was a riddle and a mystery to myself. 
 
 The drug, which had been retarded in its operation on 
 account of having been taken after a meal, now began to 
 make itself more powerfully felt. The visions were more gro- 
 tesque than ever, but less agreeable ; and there was a painful 
 tension throughout my nervous system — the effect of over-sti- 
 mulus. I was a mass of transparent jelly, and a confectioner 
 poured me into a twisted mould. I threw my chair aside, and 
 writhed and tortured myself for some time to force my loose 
 substance into the mould. At last, when I had so for suc- 
 ceeded that only one ^oot remained outside, it was lifted 
 off, and another mould, of still more crooked and intricate 
 shape, substituted. I have no doubt that the contortions through 
 which I went, to accomplish the end of my gelatinons destiny, 
 would have been extremely ludicrous to a spectator, but to me 
 they- were painful and disagreeable. The sober half of me 
 went into fits of laughter over them^ and through that laugh- 
 ter, my vision shifted into another scene. I had laughed until 
 my eyes overflowed profhsely. Every drop that fell, immedi- 
 ately became a large loaf of bread, and tumbled upon the 
 shop-board of a baker in the bazaar at Damascus. The more 
 I lai^hed, the faster the loaves fell, nntil such a pile was 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 148 
 
 raised about the baker, that I could hardly see the top of 
 his head. " The man will be suffocated," I cried, " but if he 
 were to die, I cannot stop 1" 
 
 My perceptions now became more dim and confused. I felt 
 that I was in the grasp of some giant force ; and, in the glim- 
 mering of my fading reason, grew earnestly alarmed, for the 
 terrible stress under which my frame labored increased every 
 moment. A fierce and furious heat radiated from my stomach 
 throughout my system ; my mouth and throat were as dry and 
 hard as if made of brass, and my tongue, it seemed to me, was a 
 bar of rusty iron. I seized a pitcher of water, and drank long 
 and deeply ; but I might as well have drunk so much air, for not 
 only did it impart no moisture, but my palate and throat gave me 
 no intelligence of having drunk at all. I stood in the centre of 
 the room, brandishing my arms convulsively, and heaving 
 sighs that seemed to shatter my whole being. " Will no 
 one," I cried in distress, " cast out this devil that has posses- 
 sion of me ?" I no longer saw the room nor my friends, but I 
 heard one of them saying, "It must be real ; he could not 
 counterfeit such an expression as that But it don't look 
 much like pleasure." Immediately afterwards there was a 
 scream of the wildest laughter, and my countryman sprang 
 upon the floor, exclaiming, " O, ye gods 1 1 am a locomotive !" 
 This was his ruling hallucination ; and, for the space of two op 
 three hours, he continued to pace to <and fro with a measured 
 stride, exhaling his breath in violent jets, and when he spoke, 
 dividing his words into syllables, each of which he brought out 
 with a jerk, at the same tune turning his hands at his sides, as 
 if they were the cranks of imaginary wheels. The English- 
 man, as soon as he felt the dose beginning to take effect, pru- 
 
144 THE LANDS OP THE SABACKN. 
 
 dently retreated to his own room, and what the nature of his 
 visions was, we never learned, for he refused to tell, and, ' 
 moreover, enjoined the strictest silence on his wife. 
 
 By this time it was nearly midnight. I had passed through 
 the Paradise of Hasheesh, and was plunged at once into its 
 fiercest Hell. In my ignorance I had taken what, I have 
 since learned, would have been a sufiScient portion for six men, 
 and was now paying a frightful penalty for my curiosity. The 
 excited blood rushed through my frame with a sound like the 
 roaring of mighty waters. It was projected into my eyes until 
 I could no longer see ; it beat thickly in my ears, and so 
 throbbed in my heart, that I feared the ribs would give way 
 under its blows. I tore open my vest, placed -my hand over 
 the spot, and tried to count the pulsations ; but there were 
 two hearts, one beating at the rate of a thdusand beats' a 
 minute, and the other with a slow, dull motion. My throat, I 
 thought, was filled to the brim with blood, and streams of 
 blood were pouring from my ears. I felt them gushing warm 
 down my cheeks and neck. With a maddened, desperate feel- 
 ing, I fled from the room, and walked over the flat, terraced 
 roof of the house. My body seemed to shrink and grow rigid 
 as I wrestled with thB demon, and my face to become wild, 
 lean and haggard. Some lines which had struck me, years 
 before, in reading Mrs. Browning's " Rhyme of the Duchess 
 May," flashed into my nrind : — 
 
 ■' And the horse, in stark despair, with his front hoofs poised in air. 
 On the last verge, rears amain ; 
 A.nd he hangs, he roots between — and his nostrils cardie in — 
 And he shivers, head arid hoof, and the flakes of foain fall off ; 
 And his face grows fierce and thint" 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEKSH. 145 
 
 That picture of animal terror and agony was mine. I was the 
 horse, hanging poised on the verge of the giddy tower, the 
 next moment to be borne sheer down to destruction. Involun- 
 tarily, I raised my hand to feel the leanness and sharpness of 
 my face. Oh horror 1 the flesh had fallen from my bones, and 
 it was a skeleton head that I carried on my shoulders 1 With 
 one bound 1 sprang to the parapet, and looked down into the 
 silent courtyard, then filled with the shadows thrown into it by 
 the sinking moon. Shall I cast myself down headlong ? was 
 the question I proposed to myself ; but though the horror of 
 that skeleton delusion was greater than my fear of death, there 
 was an invisible hand at my breast which pushed me away from 
 the brink. 
 
 I made my way back to the room, in a state of the keenest 
 suffering. My companion was stiU a locomotive, rushing to 
 and fro, and jerking out his-syllables with the disjointed accent 
 peculiar to a steam-engine. His mouth had turned to brass, 
 like mine, and he raised the pitcher to his lips in the attempt 
 to moisten it, but before he had 'taken a mouthful, set the 
 pitcher down again with a yell of laughter, crying out : "How 
 can I take water into my boiler, while I am letting off steam ?" 
 
 But I was now too far gone to feel the absurdity of this, or 
 his other exclamations. I was sinking deeper and deeper into 
 a pit of unutterable agony and despair. For, although I was 
 not conscious of real pain in any part of my body, the cruel 
 tension to which my nerves had been subjected filled me 
 through and through with a sensation of distress which was 
 far more severe than pain itself. In addition to this, the rem- 
 nant of win with which I struggled against the demon, became 
 gradually weaker, and I felt that I should soon be powerless 
 
 1 
 
146 THE LANDS OF THE- SAKACEN. 
 
 in his hands. Every effort to preserve my reason was accom- 
 panied by a pang of mortal fear, lest what I now experienced 
 was insanity, and would hold mastery over me for ever. The 
 thought of death, which also haunted me, was far less bitter 
 than this dread. I knew that in the struggle which was going 
 on in my frame, I was borne fearfully near tlie dark gulf, and 
 the thought that, at such a time, both reason and will were 
 leaving my brain, filled me with an agony, the depth and 
 blackness of which I should vainly attempt to portray. I 
 threw myself on my bed, with the excited blood still roaring 
 wildly in my ears, my heart throbbiag with a force that seemed 
 to be rapidly wearing away my life, my throat dry as a pot- 
 sherd, and my stiffened tongue cleaving to the roof of my 
 mouth — resisting no longer, but awaiting my fate with the 
 apathy of despair. 
 
 My companion was now approaching the same condition, 
 but as the effect of the drug on him had been less violent, so 
 his stage of suffering was more clamorous. He cried out to 
 me that he was dying, implored me to help him, and i-eproached 
 me vehemently, because I lay there silent, motionless, and 
 apparently careless of his danger. "Why will he disturb 
 me ?" I thought ; " he thinks he is dying, but what is death to 
 madness ? Let him die ; a thousand deaths were more easily 
 borne thah the pangs I suffer." While I was sufficiently con- 
 scious to hear his exclamations, they only provoked my keen 
 anger ; but after a time, my senses became clouded, and I 
 sank into a stupor. As near as I can judge, this must have 
 been three o'clock in the morning, rather more than five 
 hours after the hasheesh began to take effect. I lay thus all 
 the following day and night, in a state of gray, blank oblivion. 
 
THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 147 
 
 broken only by a single wandering gleam of consciousness. I 
 recollect hearing Frangois' voice. He told me afterwards that 
 I arose, attempted to dress myself, drank two cups of coffee, 
 and then fell back into thfrsame death-like stupor ; but of all 
 this, I did not retain the least knowledge. On the morning of 
 the second day, after a sleep of thirty hours, I awoke again to 
 the world, with a system utterly prostrate and unstrung, and 
 a brain clouded with the lingering images of my visions. I 
 knew where I was, and what had happened to me, but all that 
 I saw stlU remained unreal and shadowy. There was no taste 
 ia what I ate, no refreshment in what I drank, and it required 
 a painful effort to comprehend what was said to me and return 
 a coherent answer. Will and Reason had come back, but they 
 still sat unsteadily upon their thrones. 
 
 My friend, who was much further advanced in his recovery, 
 accompanied me to the adjoining bath, which I hoped would 
 assist in restoring me. It was with great diffi.culty that I pre- 
 served the outward appearance of consciousness. In spite of 
 myself, a veil now and then fell over my mind, and after 
 wandering for years, as it seemed, in some distant world, I 
 awoke with a shock, to find myself in the steamy haUs of the 
 bath, with a brown Syrian polishing my limbs. I suspect that, 
 my language must have been rambling and incoherent, and 
 that the menials who had me in charge understood my condi- 
 tion, for as soon as I had stretched myself upon the couch 
 which follows the bath, a glass of very acid sherbet was pre- 
 sented to me, and after drinking it I experienced instant relief. 
 Still the spell was not wholly broken, and for two or three 
 days I continued" subject to frequent involuntary fits of absence, 
 which made me insensible, for the time, to all that was passing 
 
148 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 around me. I walked the streets of Damascus with a strange 
 consciousness that I was in some other place at the same time, 
 and with a constant effort to reunite my divided perceptions. 
 
 Previous to the experiment, we had decided on making a 
 bargain with the shekh for the journey to Palmyra. The 
 state, however, in which we now found ourselves, obliged ns to 
 relinquish the plan. Perhaps the excitement of a forced march 
 across the desert, and a conflict with the hostile Arabs, which 
 was quite likely to happen, might have assisted us in throwing 
 off the baneful effects of the drug ; but all the charm which 
 lay in the name of Palmyra and the romantic interest of the 
 trip, was gone. I was without courage and without energy, 
 and nothing remained for me but to leave Damascus. 
 
 Yet, fearful as my rash experiment proved, to me, I did not 
 regret having made it. It revealed to me deeps of rapture 
 and of suffering which my natural faculties never could have 
 sounded. It has taught me the majesty of human reason and 
 of human vrill, even in the weakest, and the awful peril of 
 tampering with that which assails their integrity. I have here 
 faithfully and ,fully written out my experience, on account of 
 the lesson which it may convey to others. If I have unfortu* 
 uately failed in my design, and have but awakened that restless 
 curiosity which I have endeavored to forestall, let me beg all 
 who are thereby led to repeat the experiment upon themselves, 
 that they be content to take the portion of hasheesh, which is 
 considered sufficient fiar one man, and not, like me, swallow 
 enough for six. 
 
A DISSERTiTION ON BATHING AND BODIES, 149 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 X DISSERTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES 
 
 *' No swan-soft woman, rubbed with lucid oils, 
 The gift of an enamored god, more fair." 
 
 Baowmsa. 
 
 We shall not set out from Damascus — we shall not leare th& 
 Pearl of the Orient to "glimmer through the seas of foliage 
 wherein it lies buried — ^without consecrating a day to the 
 Bath, that material agent of peace and good-will unto men. 
 We have bathed in the Jordan, like Naaman, and been made 
 clean ; let ns now see whether Abana and Pharpar, rivers of 
 Damascus, are better than the waters of Israel. 
 
 The Bath is the " peculiar institution" of the East. Coffee 
 has become colonized in France and America ; the Pipe is a 
 cosmopolite, and his blue, joyous breath congeals under 
 the Arctic Circle, or melts languidly into the soft airs of the 
 Polynesian Isles ; but the Bath, that sensuous elysium which 
 cradled the dreams of Plato, and the visions of Zoroaster, and 
 the solemn meditations of Mahomet, is only to be found under 
 an Oriental sky. The naked natives of the Torrid Zone 
 are amphibious ; they do not bathe, they live in the water. 
 The European and Anglo-American wash themselves and 
 think they have bathed ; they shudder under cold showers and 
 
150 THE LANDS OP THE 8ABACBH. 
 
 perform laborious antics with coarse towels. As for the 
 Hydropathist, the Genius of the Bath, whose dwelling is 
 in Damascus, would be convulsed with scornful laughter, could 
 he behold that aqueous Diogenes sitting in his tub, or stretched 
 out in his wet wrappings, like a sodden mummy, in a cata- 
 comb of blankets and feather beds. As the rose in the East 
 has a rarer perfume than in other lands, so does the Bath 
 bestow a superior purification and impart a more profound 
 enjoyment. 
 
 Listen not unto the lamentations of travellers, who complain 
 of the heat, and the steam, and the dislocations of their joints. 
 They belong to the stiff-necked generation, who resist the pro- 
 cesses, whereunto the Oriental yields himself body and sonl. 
 He who is bathed in Damascus, must be as clay in the hands 
 of a potter. The Syrians marvel how the Pranks can walk, 
 so difficult is it to bend their joints. Moreover, they know the 
 difference between him who comes to the Bath out of a mere 
 idle curiosity, and him who has tasted its delight and holds it 
 in due honor. Only the latter is permitted to know all its 
 mysteries. The former is carelessly hurried through the ordi- 
 nary forms of bathing, and, if any trace of the cockney remain 
 in him, is quite as likely to be disgusted as pleased. Again, 
 there are many second and third-rate baths, whither cheating 
 dragomen conduct their victims, in consideration of a division 
 of spoils with the bath-keeper. Hence it is, that the Bath has 
 received but partial justice at the hands of tourists in the 
 East. If any one doubts this, let him clothe himself with 
 Oriental passiveness and resignation, go to the Hamman 
 el-BIhyateen, at Damascus, or the Bath of Mahmoud Pasha, 
 at Constantinople, and demand that he be perfectly bathed. 
 
THE BATH. 151 
 
 Come with me, and I will show you the mysteries of the 
 perfect bath. Here is the entrance, a heavy Saracenic arch, 
 opening upon the crowded bazaar. We descend a few steps to 
 the marble pavement of a lofty octagonal hall, fighted by a 
 dome. There is a jet of sparkKng water in the centre, falling 
 into a heavy stone basin. A platform about five feet in height 
 runs around the hall, and on this are ranged a number of nar- 
 row couches, with their heads to the wall, like the pallets in 
 a hospital ward. The platform is covered with straw mat- 
 ting, and from the wooden gallery which rises above it are 
 suspended towels, with blue and crimson, borders. The master 
 of the bath receives us courteously, and conducts us to one of 
 the vacant couches. We kick off our red slippers below, and 
 mount the steps to the platform. Yonder traveller, in Frank 
 dress, who has just entered, goes up with his boots on, and we 
 Rnow, from that fact, what sort of a bath he will get. 
 
 As the work of disrobing proceeds, a dark-eyed boy appears 
 with a napkin, which he holds before us, ready to bind it about 
 the waist, as soon as we regain our primitive form. Another 
 attendant throws a napkin over our shoulders and wraps a 
 third around our head, turban-wise. He then thrusts a pair of 
 wooden clogs upon our feet, and, taking us by the arm, steadies 
 our tottering and clattering steps, as we pass through a low 
 door and a warm ante-chamber into the first hall of the bath. 
 The light, falling dimly through a cluster of bull's-eyes in the 
 domed ceiling, shows, first, a silver thread of water, playing 
 in a steamy atmosphere ; next, some dark motionless objects, 
 stretched out on a low central platform of marble.' The 
 attendant spreads a linen sheet in one of the vacant places, 
 places a pillow at one end, takes off our clogs, deposits ua 
 
162 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 gently on our back, and leaves us. The pavement is warm 
 beneath us, and the first breath we draw gives us a sense of 
 suffocation. But a, bit of burning aloe-wood has just been 
 carried through the hall, and the steam is permeated with fra- 
 grance. The dark-eyed boy appears with a narghileh, which 
 he places beside us, offering the amber mouth-piece to our sub- 
 missive lips. The smoke we inhale has an odor of roses ; and 
 as the pipe bubbles with our breathing, we feel that the dews 
 of sweat gather heavily upon us. The attendant now re- 
 appears, kneels beside us, and gently kneads us with dexterous 
 hands. Although no anatomist, he knows every muscle and 
 sinew whose suppleness gives ease to the body, and so moulds 
 and manipulates them that we lose the rigidity of our mechan- 
 ism, and become plastic in his hands. He turns us upon our 
 face, repeats the same process upon the back, and leaves us a 
 little longer to lie there passively, glistening in our own dew. 
 
 We are aroused from a reverie about nothing by a dark- 
 brown shape, who replaces the clogs, puts his arm around our 
 waist and leads us into an inner hall, with a steaming tank in 
 the centre. Here he slips us off the brink, and we collapse 
 over head and ears in the fiery fluid. Once — ^twice — we dip 
 into the delicious heat, and then are led into a marble alcove, 
 and seated flat upon the floor. The attendant stands behind 
 i^s, and we now perceive that his hands are encased in dark 
 hair-gloves. He pounces upon an arm, which he rubs until, 
 like a serpent, we slough the worn-out skin, and resume our 
 infanitile smoothness and fairness. No man- can be called clean 
 until he has bathed in the East. Let him walk directly from 
 his accustomed bath and self-friction with towels, to the Ham- 
 mam el-Khyateen, and the attendant will exclaim, as he shakes 
 
THE BATH. -153 
 
 out his hair-gloves : " Frank ! it is a long time since you 
 have bathed." ^ The other arm follows, the back, the breast, 
 the legs, until the work is complete, and we know precisely how 
 a horse feels after he has been curried. 
 
 Now the attendant turns two cocks at the back of the 
 alcove, and holding a basin alternately under the cold and hot 
 streams, floods us at first with a fiery dash, that sends a deli- 
 cious warm shiver through every nerve ; then, with milder 
 applications, lessening the temperature of the water by semi- 
 tones, until, from the highest key of heat which we can bear, 
 we glide rapturously 'down the gamut until we reach the 
 lowest bass of coolness. The skin has by this time attained an 
 exquisite sensibility, and answers to these changes of tempera- 
 ture with thrills of the purest physical pleasure. In fact, the 
 whole frame seems purged of its earthy nature and trans- 
 formed into something of a finer and more delicate texture. 
 
 After a pause, the attendant makes his appearance with a 
 large wooden bowl, a piece of soap, and a bunch of palm- 
 fibres. He squats down beside the bowl, and speedily creates 
 a mass of snowy lather, which grows up to a pyramid and 
 topples over the edge. Seizing us by the crown-tuft of hair 
 upon our shaven head, he plants the foamy bunch of fibres full 
 in our face. The world vanishes ; sight, hearing, smell, taste 
 (unless we open our mouth), and breathing, are cut off; we 
 have become nebulous. Although our eyes are shut, we seem 
 to see a blank whiteness; and, feeling nothing but a soft 
 fleeciness, we doubt whether we be not the Olympian cloud 
 which visited lo. But the cloud clears away before strangula- 
 tion begins, and the velvety mass descends upon the body. 
 Twice we are thus "slushed" from head to foot, and made 
 
 1* 
 
154 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 more slippery than the anointed wrestlers of the Greek games. 
 Then the basin comes again into play, and we glide once more 
 musically through the scale of temperature. 
 
 The brown sculptor has now nearly completed his task. The 
 figure of clay which entered the bath is transformed into 
 polished marble. He turns the body from side to side, and 
 lifts the limbs to see whether the workmanship is adequate to 
 his conception. His satisfied gaze proclaims his success. A 
 skUfnl bath-attendant has a certain aesthetic pleasure in Ms 
 occupation. The bodies he polishes become to some extent 
 his own workmanship, and he feels responsible for their 
 symmetry or deformity. He experiences a degree of triumph 
 in contemplating a beautiful form, which has grown more airily 
 light and beautiful nnder his hands. He is a great connoisseur 
 of bodies, and conld pick you out the finest specimens with as 
 ready an eye as an artist. 
 
 I enyy those old Greek bathers, into whose hands were 
 delivered Pericles, and Alcibiades, and the perfect models of 
 Phidias. They had daily before their eyes the highest types 
 of Beauty which the world has ever produced ; for of all 
 things that are beautiful, the human body is the crown. Now, 
 since the delusion of artists has been overthrown, and we know 
 that Grecian Art is but the simple reflex of Nature — that the 
 old masterpieces of sculpture were no miraculous embodiments 
 of a beav, ideal, but copies of living forms — ^we must admit 
 that in no other age of the world has the physical Man been 
 so perfectly developed. The nearest approach I have ever 
 seen to the symmetry of ancient sculpture was among the 
 Arab tribes of Ethiopia. Our Saxon race can supply the 
 athlete, but not the Apollo. 
 
CIRCASSIAN BEAUTY. 155 
 
 Oriental life is too full of repose, and the Ottoman race has 
 become too degenerate through indulgence, to exhibit many- 
 striking specimens of physical beauty. The face is generally 
 fine, but the body is apt to be lank, and with imperfect muscu- 
 lar development. The best forms I saw in the baths were 
 those of laborers, who, with a good deal of ragged strength, 
 showed some grace and harmony of proportion. It may be 
 received as a general rule, that the physical development of 
 the European is superior to that of the Oriental, with the 
 exception of the Circassians and Georgians, whose beauty well 
 entitles them to the distinction of giving their name to our 
 race. 
 
 So far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian women 
 have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain 
 home the purity of the Grecian models, and still display the 
 perfect physical loveliness, whose type has descended to us in 
 the Venus de Medici. The Frank who is addicted to wander- 
 ing about the streets of Oriental cities can hardly fail to be 
 favored with a sight of the faces of these beauties. More than 
 once it has happened to me, in meeting a veiled lady, sailing 
 along in her balloon-like feridjee, that she has allowed the veil 
 to drop by a skilful accident, as she passed, and has startled 
 me with the vision of her beauty, recalling the line of the Per- 
 sian poet: "Astonishment I is this the dawn of the glorious 
 sun, or is it the full moon ?" The Circassian face is a pure 
 oval ; the forehead is low and fair, " an excellent thing in 
 woman," and the skin of an ivory whiteness, except the faint 
 pink of the cheeks and the ripe, roseate stain of the lips. The 
 hair is dark, glossy, and luxuriant, exquisitely outlined on the 
 temples ; the eyebrows slightly arched, and drawn with a 
 
156 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 deKcate pencil ; while lashes like "rays of darkness" shade 
 the large, dark, humid orbs below them. The alabaster of the 
 face, so pure aa scarcely to show the blue branching of the 
 veins on the temples, i* Jighted by those superb eyes — 
 
 " Shining eyes^ like antique jewels set in Parian statue-stone," 
 
 — whose wells are so dark and deep, that you are cheated into 
 the belief that a glorious soul looks out of them. 
 
 Once, by an unforeseen chance, I beheld the Circassian form, 
 in its most perfect development. I was on board an Austrian 
 steamer in the harbor of Smyrna, when the harera of a Turk- 
 ish pasha came out in a boat to embark for Alexandria. The 
 sea was rather rough, and nearly all the officers of the steamer 
 were ashore. There were six veiled and swaddled women, "with 
 a black eunuch as guard, in the boat, which lay tossing for some 
 time at the foot of the gangway ladder, before the frightened 
 passengers could summon courage to step out. At last the 
 youngest of them — a Circassian girl of not more than fifteen 
 or sixteen years of age — ventured upon the ladder, clasping the 
 hand-iail with one hand, while with the other she held together 
 the folds of her cumbrous feridjee. I was standing in the 
 gangway, watching her, when a slight lurch of the steamer 
 caused her to loose her hold of the garment, which, fastened 
 at the neck, was blown back from her shoulders, leaving her 
 body screened but by a single robe of light, gauzy silk. 
 Through this, the marble whiteness of her skin, the roundness, 
 the glorious symmetry of her form, flashed upon me, as a vision 
 of Aphrodite, seen 
 
 " Thioagh leagues of shimmering water, like a star." 
 
THE HUMAN BODY. 15t 
 
 It was but a momentary glimpse ; yet that moment convinced 
 me that forms of Phidian perfection are still nurtured in the 
 vales of Caucasus. 
 
 The necessary disguise of dress hides from us much of the 
 beauty and dignity of Humanity. I hate seen men who 
 appeared heroic in the freedom of nakedness, shrink almost into 
 absolute vulgarity, when clothed. The soul not only sits at 
 the windows of the eyes, and hangs upon the gateway of the 
 lips ; she speaks as well in the intricate, yet harmonious lines 
 of the body, and the ever-varying play of the limbs. Look at 
 the torso of Ilionens, the son of Niobe, and see what an agony 
 of terror and supplication cries out from that headless and 
 limbless trunk I Decapitate Laocoon, and his knotted muscles 
 will still express the same dreadful suffering and resistance. 
 None knew this better than the ancient sculptors ; and. hence 
 it was that we find many of their statues of distinguished men 
 wholly or' partly undraped. Such a view of Art would be 
 considered transcendental now-a-days, when our dress, our cos- 
 tumes, and our modes of speech either ignore the existence of 
 our bodies, or treat them with little of that reverence which is 
 their due. 
 
 But, while we have been thinking these thoughts, the 
 attendant has been waiting to give us a final plunge into the 
 seething tank. Again we slide down to the eyes in the fluid 
 heat, which wraps us closely about until we tingle with exqui- 
 site hot shiverings. Now comes the graceful boy, with clean, 
 C00I7 lavendered napldns, which he folds around our waist and 
 wraps softly about the head. The pattens are put upon our 
 feet, and the brown arm steadies us gently through the sweat- 
 ing-room and ante-chamber into the outer hall, where we mount 
 
158 THE LANDS OP THE SARACKN. 
 
 to our couch. We sink gently upon the cool linen, and the 
 boy covers us -with a perfumed sheet. Then, kneeling beside 
 the couch, he presses the folds of the sheet around us, that it 
 may absorb the lingering moisture and the limpid perspiration 
 shed by the departing heat. As fast as the linen becomes 
 damp, he replaces it with fresh, pressing the folds about us as 
 tenderly as a mother arranges the drapery of her sleeping 
 babe ; for we, though of the stature of a man, are now infan- 
 tile in our helpless happiness. Then he takes our passive 
 hand and warms its palm by the soft friction of his own ; 
 after which, moving to the end of the couch, he lifts our 
 feet upon his lap, and repeats the friction upon their soles, 
 until the blood comes back to the Surface of the body with a 
 misty glow, like that which steeps the clouds of a summer 
 afternoon. 
 
 We have but one more process to undergo, and the attend- 
 ant already stands at the head of our couch. This is the 
 course of passive gynmastios, which excites so much alarm and 
 resistance in the ignorant Franks. It is only resistance that 
 is dangerous, completely neutraliang the enjoyment of the pro- 
 ecus. Give yourself with a blind submission into the arms of 
 the brown Eate, and he will lead you to new chambers of 
 delight. He lifts us to a sitting posture, places himself behind 
 us, and folds his arms around our body, alternately tightening 
 and relaxing his clasp, as if to test the elasticity of the ribs. 
 Then seizing one arm, he draws it across the opposite shoulder, 
 until the joint cracks like a percussion-cap. The shoulder- 
 blades, the elbows, the wrists, and the finger-joints are all made 
 to fire off their muffled volleys ; and then, placing one knee 
 between our shoulders, and clasping both hands upon our fore- 
 
THE BATH. 159 
 
 head, he draws our head back until yfe feel a great snap of the 
 vertebral column. Now he descends to the hip-joints, knees, 
 ankles, and feet, forcing each and all to discharge a salvo de 
 joie. The slight languor left from the bath is gone, and an 
 airy, delicate exhilaration, befitting the winged Mercury, takes 
 its place. 
 
 The boy, kneeling, presents us with afinjan of foamy coffee, 
 followed by a glass of sherbet cooled with the snows of Leba- 
 non. He presently returns with a narghileh, which we smoke 
 by the effortless inhalation of the lungs. Thus we lie in per- 
 fect repose, soothed by the fragrant weed, and idly watching 
 the silent Orientals, who are undressing for the bath or reposing 
 like ourselves. Through the arched entrance, we see a picture 
 of the bazaars : a shadowy painting of merchants seated amid 
 their silks and spices, dotted here and there with golden drops 
 and splashes of sunshine, which have trickl'ed through the roof. 
 The scene paints itself upon our eyes, yet wakes no slightest 
 stir of thought. The brain is a becalmed sea, without a ripple 
 on its shores. Mind and body are drowned in delicious rest ; 
 and we no longer remember what we are. We only know that 
 there is an Existence somewhere in the air, and that wherever 
 it is, and whatever it may be, it is happy. 
 
 More and more dim grows the picture. The colors fade and 
 blend into each other, and finally merge into a bed of rosy 
 clouds, flooded with the radiance of some unseen sun. Gentlier- 
 than "tired eyelids upon tired ey«s," sleep lies upon our 
 senses : a half-conscious sleep, wherein we know that we behold 
 light and inhale fragrance. As gently, the clouds dissipate 
 into air, and we are born again into the world. The. Bath is 
 at an end. We arise and put on our garments, and walk forth 
 
160 THE LANDS OP THE SAEACEN. 
 
 into the sunny streets of Damascus. But as we go homewards, 
 we inToluntarily look down to see whether we are really tread- 
 ing upon the earth, wondering, perhaps, that we should be 
 content to do so, when it would be so easy to soar above the 
 house-tops. 
 
DEPARTURE FROM DAMASCUS. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BAALBEO AND LEBANON. . 
 
 Deptrtore from Damascus— The Fountains of the Pharpar— Pass of the Anti-Lebanon— 
 Adventure with the Druses — The Range of Lebanon— The Demon of Hasheesb 
 departs— Impressions of Baalbec— The Temple of the Son— Titanic Masonry— The 
 Ruined Mosque— Camp on Lebanon— Rascality of the Guide— The Summit of Lebanon 
 —The Sacred Cedars- The Christians of Lebanon— An Afternoon in Eden— Rugged 
 Travel— We Reach the Coast— Return to Beyrout. 
 
 " Peor and Baalim 
 Forsake their templea dim." 
 
 Milton. 
 
 " The cedars wave on Lebanon, 
 But Judah's statelier maids are gone." 
 
 Btroh. 
 
 Betboct, Thursday, May 27, 18J2. 
 
 After a stay of eight days in Damascus, we called our men, 
 Dervish and Mustapha, again into requisition, loaded our 
 enthusiastic mules, and mounted our despairing horses. There 
 were two other parties on the way to Baalbec — an English 
 gentleman and lady, and a solitary Englishman, so that our 
 united forces made an imposing caravan. There is always a 
 pustom-house examination, not on entering, but on issuing from 
 an Oriental city, but travellers can avoid it by procuring the 
 company of a Consular Janissary as far as the gate. Mr. 
 Wood, the British Consul, lent us one of his officers for the 
 
16Sl THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 occasion, whom we found waiting, outside of the wall, to receive 
 his private fee for the service. We mounted the long, barren 
 hQl west of the plain, and at the summit, near the tomb of a 
 Moslem shekh, turned to take a last long look at the bowery 
 plain, and the minarets of the city, glittering through the blue 
 morning vapor. 
 
 A few paces further on the rocky road, a different scene 
 presented itself to us. There lay, to the westward, a long 
 stretch of naked yellow mountains, basking in the hot glare of 
 the sun, and through the centre, deep down in the heart of the 
 arid landscape, a winding line of living green showed the course 
 of the Barrada. We followed the river, until the path reached 
 an impassable gorge, which occasioned a detour of two or 
 three hours. We then descended to the bed of the dell, where 
 the vegetation, owing to the radiated heat from the mountains 
 and the fertilizing stimulus of the water below, was even richer 
 than on the plain of Damascus. The trees were plethoric with 
 an overplus of life. The boughs of the mulberries were 
 weighed down with the burden of the leaves ; pomegranates 
 were in a violent eruption of blossoms ; and the foliage of the 
 fig and poplar was of so deep a hue that it shone black in the 
 sun. 
 
 Passing through a gateway of rock, so narrow that we were 
 often obliged to ride in the bed of the stream, we reached a 
 little meadow, beyond which was a small hamlet, almost hidden 
 in the leaves. Here the mountains again approached each 
 other, and from the side of that on the right hand, the main 
 body of the Barrada, or Pharpar, gushed forth in one fall 
 stream. The fountain is nearly double the volume of that of 
 the Jordan at Banias, and much more beautiful. The founda- 
 
THE FOUNTAINS OP THE PHARPAK. 168 
 
 tions of an ancient building, probably a temple, overhang it, 
 and tall poplars and sycamores cover it with impenetrable 
 shade. From the low aperture, where it bursts into the light, 
 its waters, white with foam, bound away flashing in the chance 
 rays of sunshine, until they are lost to sight in the dense, dark 
 foliage. We sat an hour on the ruined walls, listening to the 
 roar and rush of the flood, and enjoying the shade of the wal- 
 nuts and sycamores. Soon after leaving, our path crossed a 
 small stream, which comes down to the Barrada from the upper 
 valleys of the Anti-Lebanon, and entered a wild pass, faced 
 with cliffs of perpendicular rock. An old bridge, of one arch, 
 spanned the chasm, out of which we climbed to a tract of high 
 meadow land. In the pass there were some fragments of 
 ancient columns, traces of an aqueduct, and inscriptions on the 
 rocks, among which Mr. H. found the name of Antoninus. 
 The place is not mentioned in any book of travel I have seen, as 
 it is not on the usual road from Damascus to Baalbec. 
 
 As we were emerging from the pass, we saw a company of 
 twelve armed men seated in the grass, near the roadside. 
 They were wild-looking characters, and eyed us somewhat 
 sharply as we passed. We greeted them with the usual 
 " salaam aleikoom I" which they did not return. The same 
 evening, as we encamped at the village of Zebdeni, about three 
 hours further up the valley, we were startled by a great noise 
 and outcry, with the firing of pistols, 'it happened, as we 
 learned on inquiring the cause of all this confusion, that the 
 men we saw in the pass were rebel Druses, who were then 
 lying in wait for the Shekh of Zebdeni, whom, with his son, 
 they had taken captive soon after we passed. The news had 
 by some means been conveyed to the village, and a company 
 
164 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 of about two hundred persons was then marching out to the 
 rescue. The noise they made was probably to give the Druses 
 intimation of their coming, and thus avoid a fight. I do not 
 believe that any of the mountaineers of Lebanon would will- 
 ingly take part against the Druses, who, in fact, are not 
 fighting so much against the institution of the conscription 
 law, as its abuse. The law ordains that the conscript shall 
 serve for five years ; but since its establishment, as I have 
 been informed, there has not been a single instance of dis- 
 charge. It -amounts, therefore, to lifelong servitude, _and there 
 is little wonder that these independent sons of the mountains, 
 as well as the tribes inhabiting the Syrian Desert, should rebel 
 rather than submit. 
 
 The next day, we crossed a pass in the Anti-Lebanon beyond 
 Zebdeni, descended a beautiful valley on the western side, 
 under a ridge which was still dotted with patches of snow, 
 and after travelling for some hours over a wide, barren height, 
 the last of the range, saw below us the plain of Baalbec. The 
 grand ridge of Lebanon opposite, crowned with glittering 
 fields of snow, shone out clearly through the pure air, and the 
 hoary head of Hermon, far in the south, lost something of its 
 grandeur by the comparison. Though there is a " dijide," or 
 watershed, between Husbeiya, at the foot of Mount Hermon, 
 and Baalbec, whose springs join the Orontes, which flows 
 northward to Antioch, the great natural separation of the two 
 chains continues unbroken to the Gulf of Akaba, in the Red 
 Sea. A little beyond Baalbec, the Anti-Lebanon terminates, 
 sinking into the Syrian plain, while the Lebanon, though Its 
 namfe and general features are lost, about twenty miles further 
 to the north is succeeded by other ranges, which, though 
 
THE DEMON OF HASHEESH DEPAETS. 165 
 
 broken at interrals, form a regular series, connecting with the 
 Taurus, in Asia Minor. 
 
 On leaving Damascus, the Demon of Hasheesh still main- 
 tained a partial control over me. I was weak in body and at 
 times confused in my perceptions, wandering away from the 
 scenes about me to some unknown sphere beyond the moon. 
 But the healing balm of my sleep at Zebdeni, and the purity 
 of the morning air among the mountains, completed my cure 
 As i rode along tie vsJley, with the towering, snow-sprinkled 
 ridge of the Anti-Lebanon on my right, a cloudless heaven 
 above my head, and meads enamelled with the asphodel and 
 scarlet anemone stretching before me,- 1 felt that the last 
 shadow had rolled away from my brain. My mind was now as 
 clear as that sky — ^my heart as free and joyful as the elastic 
 morning air. The sun never shone so brightly to my eyes ; 
 the fair forms of Nature were never penetrated with so perfect 
 a spirit of beauty. I was again master of myself, and the 
 world glowed as if new-created in the light of my joy and gra- 
 titude. I thanked God, who had led me out of a darkness 
 more terrible than that of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 and while my feet strayed among the flowery meadows of Leba- 
 non, my heart walked on the Delectable Hills of His Mercy. 
 
 By'the'middle of the afternoon, we reached Baalbec. The 
 distant view of the temple, on descending the last slope of the 
 Anti-Lebanon, is not calculated to raise one's expectations. 
 On the green plain at the foot of the mountain, you see a large 
 square platform of masonry, upon which stand six columns, the 
 body of the temple, and a quantity of ruined walls. As a 
 feature in the landscape, it has a fine effect, but you find your- 
 self pronouncing the speedy judgment, that "Baalbec, without 
 
166 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 Lebanon, would be rather a poor show." Having come to 
 this conclusion, you ride down the hill with comfortable feel- 
 ings of indifference. There are a number of quarries on the 
 left hand ; you glance at them with an expression which merely 
 says : "Ah t % suppose they got the stones here," and so you 
 saunter' on, cross a little stream that iows down from the 
 modern village, pass a null, return the stare of the quaint 
 Axab miller who comes to the door to see yon, and your horse 
 is climbing a difficult path among the broken columns and 
 friezes, before you think it worth while to lift your eyes to the 
 pile above you. JSTow re-assert your judgment, if you dare I 
 This is Baalbec : what have you to say ? Nothing ; but you 
 amazedly measure the torsos of great columns which lie piled 
 across one another in magnificent wreck ; vast pieces which 
 have dropped from the entablature, beautiful Corinthian capi- 
 tals, bereft of the last graceful curves of their acanthus leaves, 
 and blocks whose edges are so worn away that they resemble 
 enormous natural boulders left by the Deluge, till at last you 
 look up to the six glorious pillars, towering nigh a hundred feet 
 above your head, and there is a sensatioa in your brain which 
 would be a shout, if you could give it utterance, of faultless 
 symmetry and majesty, such as no conception of yours and no 
 other creation of art, can surpass. 
 
 I know of nothing so beautiful in all remains of ancient Art 
 as these six columns, except the colonnade of the Memnonium, 
 at Thebes, which is of much smaller proportions. From every 
 position, and with all lights of the day or night, they are 
 equally perfect, and carry your eyes continually away from the 
 peristyle of the smaller temple, which is abetter preserved, and 
 from the exquisite architecture of the outer courts and pavi- 
 
THE TEMPLES OF BAALBEC. 16T 
 
 lions. The two temples of Baalbec stand on an artificial plat- 
 form of masonry, a thousand feet in length, and from fifteen to 
 thirty feet (according to the depression of the soil) in height. 
 The larger one, which is supposed to have been a Pantheon, 
 occupies the whole length of this platform. The entrance was 
 at the north, by a grand flight of steps, now broken away, 
 between two lofty and elegant pavilions which are stUl nearly 
 entire. Then followed a spacious hexagonal coui't, and three 
 grand halls, parts of which, with niches for statues, adorned 
 with cornices and pediments of elaborate design, still remain 
 entire to the roof. This magnificent series of chambers was 
 terminated at the southern extremity of the platform by the 
 main temple, which had originally twenty columns on a side, 
 similar to the six now standing. 
 
 The Temple of the Sun stands on a smaller and lower plat- 
 form, which appears to have been subsequently added to the 
 greater one. The pella, or body of the temple, is complete 
 except the roof, and of the colonnade surrounding it, nearly 
 one-half of its pillars are stiU standing, upholding the frieze, 
 entablature, and cornice, which altogetber form probably the 
 most ornate specimen of the Corinthian order of architecture 
 now extant. Only four pillars of the superb portico remain, 
 and the Saracens have nearly ruined these by building a sort 
 of watch-tower upon the architrave. The same ujiscrupulous 
 race completely shut up the portal of the temple with a 'blank 
 wall, formed of the fragments they had hurled down, and one 
 is obliged to creep through a narrow hole in order to reach 
 the interior. Here the original doorway faces you — and I 
 know not how to describe the wonderful design of its elaborate, 
 sculptured mouldings and cornices. The genius of Greek art. 
 
168 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 seems to We exhausted itself in inventing ornaments, which, 
 while they should heighten the gorgeous effect of the work, 
 must yet harmonize with the grand design of the temple. The 
 enormous keystone over the entrance has slipped down, no 
 douht from the shock of an earthquake, and hangs within six 
 inches of the bottom of the two blocks which uphold it on 
 either side. When it fails, the whole entablature of the portal 
 will be destroyed. On its lower side is an eagle with outspread 
 wings, and on the side-stones a genius with garlands of flowers, 
 exquisitely sculptured in bas relief. Hidden among the wreaths 
 of vines which adorn the jambs are the laughing heads of 
 feuns. This portal was a continual study to me, every visit 
 revealing new refinements of ornament, which I had not before 
 observed. The interior of the temple, with its rich Corinthian 
 pilasters, its niches for statues, surmounted by pediments of 
 elegant design, and its elaborate cornice, needs little aid of the 
 imagination to restore it to its original perfection. Like that 
 of Dendera, in Egypt, the Temple of the Sun leaves upon the 
 mind an impression of completeness which makes you forget 
 far grander remains. 
 
 But the most wonderful thing at Baalbec is the foundation 
 platform upon which the temples stand. Even the colossal 
 fabrics of Ancient Egypt dwindle before this superhuman 
 masonry. The platform itself, 1,000 feet long, and averaging 
 twenty feet in height, suggests a vast mass of stones, but when 
 you come to examine the single blocks of which it is composed, 
 you are crushed with their incredible bulk. On the western 
 side is a row of eleven foundation stones, each of which ia 
 thirty-two feet in length, twelve in height, and ten in thickness, 
 forming a wall three hundred and fifty-two feet long I But 
 
Tn-ANIC MASONRY. 169 
 
 while you are walking on, thinking of the art which cut and 
 raised these enormous blocks, you turn the southern corner and 
 come upon three, stones, the united length of which is ow hvM- 
 dral and eig/Uy-seven feet — two of them being sixty-two and 
 the other sixty-three feet in length 1 There they are, cut with 
 faultless exactness, and so smoothly joined to each other, that 
 you cannot force a cambric needle into the crevice. There is one 
 joint so perfect that it can only be discerned by the minutest 
 search ; it is not even so perceptible as the junction of two 
 pieces of paper which have been pasted together. In the quarry, 
 there still lies a finished block, ready for transportation, which 
 is sixty-seven feet in length. The weight of one of these masses 
 has been reckoned at near 9,000 tons, yet they do not form the 
 base of the founda^on, but are raised upon other courses, fifteen 
 feet from the ground. It is considered by some antiquarians 
 that they are of a date greatly anterior to that of the temples, 
 and were intended as the basement of a different edifice. 
 
 In the village of Baalbec there is a small circular Corinthian 
 temple of very elegant design. It is not more than thirty feet 
 in diameter, and may have been intended as a tomb. A spa- 
 cious mosque, now roofless and deserted, was constructed almost 
 entirely out of the remains of the temples. Adjoining the 
 court-yard and fountain are five rows of ancient pillars, forty 
 (the sacred number) in all, supporting light Saracenic arches. 
 Some of them are marble, with Corinthian capitals, and eighteen 
 are smgle shafts of red Egyptian granite. Beside the fountain 
 lies a small broken pillar of porphyry, of a dark violet hue, 
 and of so fine a grain that the stone has the soft rich lustre 
 of velvet. This fragment is tha only thing I would carry away 
 if I had the power. 
 
 8 
 
110 THE LANDS OF TH^ SARACEN. 
 
 After a day's sojourn, we left Baalbec at noon, and took the 
 road for the Cedars, which lie on the other side of Lebanon, iu 
 the direction of Tripoli. Our English fellow-travellers chose 
 the direct road to Beyrout. We crossed the plain in three 
 hours, to the village of Dayr el-Ahmar, and then commenced 
 ascending the lowest slopes of the great range, whose topmost 
 ridge, a dazzling parapet of snow, rose high above us. For 
 several hours, our path led up and down stony ridges, covered 
 with thickets of oak and holly, and with wild cherry, pear, and 
 olive-trees. Just as the sun threw the shadows of the highest 
 Lebanon over us, we came upon a narrow, rocky glen at his 
 very base. Streams that still kept the color and the coolness 
 of the snow-fields from which they oozed, foamed over the 
 stones into the chasm at the bottom. The glen descended 
 into a mountain basin, in which lay the lake of Yemouni, cold 
 and green under the evening shadows. But just opposite us, 
 on a little shelf of soil, there was a rude mill, and a group of 
 superb walnut-trees, overhanging the brink of the largest tor- 
 rent. We had sent our baggage before ns, and the men, with 
 an eye to. the picturesque which I should not have suspected 
 in Arabs, had pitched oar tents under those trees, where the 
 stream poured its snow-cold beakers beside us, and the tent- 
 door looked down on the plain of Baalbec and across to the 
 Anti-Lebanon. The miller and two or three peasants, who 
 were living in this lonely spot, were Christians. 
 
 The next morning we commenced ascending the Lebanon. 
 We had slept just below the snow-line, for the long hollows 
 with which the ridge is cloven were filled up to within a short 
 distance of the glen, out of which we came. The path was 
 very steep, continually ascending, now around the barren 
 
A QCARREL WITH THE GUIDE. 171 
 
 shoulder of the mountain, now up some ravine, where the holly 
 and olive still flourished, and the wild rhubarb-plant spread its 
 large, succulent leaves over the soil. We had taken a guide, 
 the day before, at the village of Dayr el-Ahmar, but as the 
 way was plain before us, and he demanded an exorbitant sum, 
 we dismissed him. We had not climbed far, however, before 
 he returned, professing to be content with whatever we might 
 give him, and took us into another road, the first, he said, 
 being impracticable. TJp and up we toiled, and the long 
 hollows of snow lay below us, and the wind came cold from the 
 topmost peaks, which began to show near at hand. But now 
 the road, as we had surmised, turned towards that we had first 
 taken, and on reaching the next height we saw the latter at a 
 short distance from us. It was not only a better, but a shorter 
 road, the rascal of a guide having led us out of it in order to 
 give the greater effect to his services. In order to return to 
 it, as was necessary, there were several dangerous snow-fields 
 to be passed. The angle of their descent was so great that a 
 single false step would have hurled our animals, baggage and 
 all, many hundred feet below. The snow was melting, and the 
 crust frozen over the streams below was so thin in places that 
 the animals broke through and sank to their bellies. 
 
 It were needless to state the number and character of the 
 anathemas bestowed upon the guide. The impassive Dervish 
 raved ; Mustapha storined ; FrauQoiS broke out in a frightful 
 eruption of Greek and Turkish oaths, and the two travellers, 
 though not (as I hope and believe) profanely inclined, could 
 not avoid using a few terse Saxon expressions. When the 
 general indignation had found vent, the men went to work, and 
 by taking each animal separately, succeeded, at imminent 
 
112 THE LANDS OP THE SABACEN, 
 
 hazard, in getting them all over the snow. We then dismissed 
 the guide, who, far from being abashed by the discovery of his 
 trickery, had the impudence to follow us for some time, claim- 
 ing his pay. A few more steep pulls, over deep beds of snow 
 and patches of barren stone, and at length the summit ridge-r— 
 a sharp, white wall, shining against the intense black-blue of 
 the zenith — stood before us. We climbed a toilsome zig-zag 
 through the snow, hurried over the stones cumbering the top,' 
 and aU at once the mountains fell away, ridge below lidge, 
 gashed with tremendous chasms, whose bottoms were lost in 
 blue vapor, till the last heights, crowned with white Maronite 
 convents, hung above the sea, whose misty round bounded the 
 vision. I have seen many grander mountain views, but few- so 
 Bubliniely rugged and broken in their features. The sides of 
 the ridges dropped off in all directions into sheer precipices, 
 and the few villages we could see were built like eagles' nests 
 on the brinks. In a little hollow at our feet was the sacred 
 Forest of Cedars, appearing like a patch of stunted jumpers. 
 It is the highest speck of vegetation on Lebanon, and in winter 
 cannot be visited, on account of the snow. The summit on 
 which we stood was about nine thousand feet above the sea, 
 but there were peaks on each side at least a thousand feet 
 higher. 
 
 We descended by a very steep path, over occasional beds of 
 snow, and reached the Cedars in an hour and a half. Not 
 until we were within a hundred yards of the trees, and below 
 their level, was I at all impressed with their size and venera- 
 ble aspect. But, once entered into the heart of the little 
 wood, walking over its miniature hills and valleys, and breath- 
 ing the pure, baJ'samic exhalations of the trees, all the disap- 
 
THE 0KDAE3 OP LEBANON. 173 
 
 pointment rising to my mind was charmed away in an instant. 
 There are about three hundred trees, in all, many of which are 
 of the last century's growth, but at least fifty of them would 
 be considered grand in any forest. The patriarchs are five in 
 number, and are undoubtedly as old as the Christian Era, if 
 not the Age of Solomon. The cypresses in the Garden of 
 Montezuma, at Chapultepec, are even older and grander trees, 
 but they are as entire and shapely as ever, whereas these are 
 gnarled and twisted into wonderful forms by the storms of 
 twenty centuries, and shivered in some places by lightning. 
 The hoary father of them all, nine feet in diameter, stands in 
 the centre of the grove, on a little knoll, and spreads his pon- 
 derous arms, each a tree in itself, over the heads of the many 
 generations that have grown up below, as if giving Ms last 
 benediction before decay. He is scarred less with storm and 
 lightning, than with the knives of travellers, and the marble 
 crags of Lebanon do not more firmly retain their inscriptions 
 than his stony trunk. Dates of the last century are abundant, 
 and I recollect a tablet inscribed : " Souard, 1610," around 
 which the newer wood has grown to the height of three or four 
 inches. The seclusion of the grove, shut in by peaks of barren 
 snow, is complete. Only the voice of the nightingale, singing 
 here by daylight in the solemn shadows, breaks the silence. 
 The Maronite monk, who has charge of a little stone chapel 
 standing in the midst, moves about like a shade, and, not before 
 you are ready to leave, brings his book for you to register your 
 name therein. I was surprised to find how few of the crowd 
 that annually overrun Syria reach the Cedars, which, after 
 Baalbec, are the finest remains of antiquity in the whole 
 country. 
 
114 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 After a stay of three hours, we rode on to Eden, whither onr 
 men had already gone with the baggage. Our road led along 
 the brink of a tremendous gorge, a thousand feet deep, the 
 bottom of which was only accessible here and there by hazard- 
 ous foot-paths. On either side, a long shelf of cultiyated land 
 sloped down to the top, and the mountain streams, after water- 
 ing a multitude of orchards and grain-fields, tumbled over the 
 cliffs in long, sparkling cascades, to jran the roaring flood 
 below. This is the Christian region of Lebanon, inhabited 
 almost wholly by Maronites, who still retain a portion of their 
 former independence, and arc the most thrifty, industrious, 
 honest, and happy people in Syria. Their villages are not con- 
 crete masses of picturesque filth, as are those of the Moslems, 
 but are loosely scattered among orchards of mulberry, poplar, 
 and vine, washed by fresh rills, and have an air of comparative 
 neatness and comfort. Each has its two or three chapels, 
 with their little belfries, which toll the hours of prayer. Sad 
 and poetic as is the call from the minaret, it never touched me 
 as when I heard the sweet tongues of those Christian bells, 
 chiming vespers far and near on the sides of Lebanon. 
 
 Eden merits its name. It is a mountain paradise, inhabited 
 by people so kind and simple-hearted, that assuredly no venge- 
 ful angel will ever drive them out with his flaming sword. It 
 hangs above the gorge, which is here nearly two thousand feet 
 deep, and overlooks a grand wilderness of mountain-piles, 
 crowded on and over each other, from the sea that gleams 
 below, to the topmost heights that keep off the morning sun. 
 The houses are all buUt of hewn stone, and grouped in clusters 
 under the shade of large walnut-trees. In walking among 
 them, we received kind greetings everywhere, and every one 
 
AN AFTERNOON IN EDEN. 115 
 
 who was seated rose and remained standing as we passed. 
 The women are beantifal, with sprightly, intelligent faces, quite 
 different from the stupid Mahometan females. 
 
 The childi-en were charming creatures, and some of the girls 
 
 of ten or twelve years were lovely as angels. They came 
 
 timidly to our tent (which the men had pitched as before, 
 
 unier two superb trees, beside a fountain), and offered us roses 
 
 and branches of fragrant white jasmine. They expected some 
 
 return, of course, but did not ask it, and the delicate grace 
 
 with which the offering was made was beyond all pay. It was 
 
 Sunday, and the men and boys, having nothing better to do, all 
 
 came to see and talk with us. I shall not soon forget the circle 
 
 of gay and laughing villagers, in which we sat that evening, 
 
 while the dark purple shadows gradually filled up the gorges, 
 
 and broad golden lights poured over the shoulders of the hills. 
 
 The men had much sport in inducing the smaller boys to come 
 
 up and salute us. There was one whom they called " the 
 
 Consul," who eluded them for some time, but was finally caught 
 
 and placed in the ring before us. " Peace be with you, Q 
 
 Consul," I said, making him a profound inclination, " may your 
 
 days be propitious ! may your shadow be increased 1" but I 
 
 then saw, from the vacant expression on the boy's face, that he 
 
 was one of those harmless, witless creatures, whom yet one 
 
 cannot quite call idiots. " He is an unfortunate ; he knows 
 
 nothing ; he hag no protector but God,?' said the men, crossing 
 
 themselves devoutly. The boy took off, his cap, crept up and 
 
 kissed my hand, as I gave him some money, which he no sooner 
 
 grasped, than he sprang up like a startled gazelle, and was out 
 
 of sight in an instant. 
 
 In descending from Eden to the sea-coast, we were obliged 
 
It6 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 to cross the great gorge of which I spoke. Further down, its 
 sides are less steep, and clothed even to the very bottom with 
 magnificent orchards of mnlberry, fig, olive, orange, and pome- 
 granate tree?. We were three hours in reaching the opposite 
 side, although the breadth across the top is not more than a 
 mUe. The path was exceedingly perilous ; we walked down, 
 leading our horses, and once were obUged to unload our 
 mules to get them past a tree, which would have forced 
 them off the brink of a chasm several hundred feet deep. 
 The view from the bottom was wonderful. We were shut 
 in by steeps of foliage and blossoms from two to three 
 thousand feet high, broken by crags of white marble, and 
 towering almost precipitously to the vety clouds. I doubt if 
 Melville saw anything grander in the tropical gorges of 
 Typee. After reaching the other side, we had still a journey 
 of eight hours to the sea, through a wild and broken, yet 
 highly cultivated country. 
 
 Beyrout was now thirteen hours distant, but by making a 
 forced march we reached it in a day, travelling along the 
 shore, past the towns of JebeU, the ancient Byblus, and 
 Joonieh. The hills about Jebeil produce the celebrated 
 tobacco known in Egypt as the Jebdee, or " mountain " tobacco, 
 which is even superior to the Latakiyeh. 
 
 Near Beyrout, the mulberry and olive are in the ascendant. 
 The latter tree bears the finest fruit in all the Levant, 
 and might drive all other oils out of the market, if 
 any one had enterprise enough to erect proper manufac- 
 tories. Instead of this the oil of the country is badly 
 prepared, rancid from the skins in which it is kept, and the 
 wealthy natives import from France and Italy in preference to 
 
SYRIAN CUWIVATION. Ill 
 
 nsing it. In the bottoms near the sea, I saw several fields of 
 the taro-plant, the, cultivation of which I had supposed was 
 exclusively confined to the Islands of the Pacific. There 
 would be no end to the wealth of Syria were the country in 
 proper hands. 
 
"S THE LANDS OP THE SAEACElf. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PIPES AND OOPFEE, 
 
 " the kind nymph to Bacchos bom 
 
 Sy Morpheas* danghter, she that seems 
 
 Gifted upon her natal morn 
 
 By hun with fire, by her with dreams— 
 
 Nicotia, dearer to the Muse 
 
 Than all the grape's bewildering juice." Lowiu. 
 
 In painting the picture of an Oriental, the pipe and the coffee- 
 cup are indispensable accessories. There is scarce a Turk, or 
 Arab, or Persian — unless he be a Dervish of peculiar sanctity — 
 but breathes his daily incense to the milder Bacchus of the 
 moderns. The custom has become so thoroughly naturalized 
 in the East, that we are apt to forget its comparatively recent 
 introduction, and to wonder that no mention is made of the 
 pipe in the Arabian Nights. The practice of smoking harmo- 
 nizes so thoroughly with the character of Oriental life, that it 
 is difficult for us to imagine a time when it never existed. It 
 has become a part of that supreme patience, that wonderful 
 repose, which forms so strong a contrast to the over-active life 
 of the New "World — ^the enjoyment of which no one can taste, 
 to whom the pipe is not familiar. Howl, ye Reformers 1 but I 
 solemnly declare unto you, that he who travels through the 
 East without smoking, does not know the East. 
 It is strange that our Continent, where the meaning of Best 
 
THE PIPE. 179 
 
 (s unknown, should have given to the world this great agent of 
 
 Rest. There is nothing more remarkable in history than the. 
 
 colonization of Tobacco over the whole Earth. Not three 
 
 centuries have elapsed since knightly Raleigh puffed its fumes 
 
 into the astonished eyes of Spenser and Shakspeare ; and now, 
 
 find me any corner of the world, from Nova Zembla to the 
 
 Mountains of the Moon, where the use of the plant is unknown I 
 
 Tarshish (if India was Tarshish) is less distinguished by its 
 
 " apes, ivory, and peacocks," than by its hookahs j the valleys 
 
 of Luzon-, beyond Ternate and Tidore, send us more cheroots 
 
 than spices ; the Gardens of Shiraz prdduce more velvety 
 
 toombek than roses, and the only fountains which bubble in 
 
 Samarcand are those of the narghUehs : Lebanon is no longer 
 
 " excellent with the Cedars," as in the days of Solomon, but 
 
 most excellent with its fields of Jebelee and Latakiyeh. On 
 
 the unvisited plains of Central Africa, the table-lands ,of Tar- 
 
 tary, and in the valleys of Japan, the wonderful plant has found 
 
 a home. The naked negro, " panting at the Line," inhales it 
 
 under the pahns, and the Lapp and Samoyed on the shores of 
 
 the Frozen Sea. 
 
 It is idle for those who object to the use of Tobacco to 
 attribute these phenomena whoUy to a perverted taste. The 
 fact that the custom was at once adopted by all the races of 
 men, whatever their geographical position and degree of civili- 
 zation, proves that there must be a reason for it in the physical 
 constitution of man. Its effect, when habitually used, is 
 slightly narcotic and sedative, not stimulating — or if so, at 
 times, it stimulates only the imagination and the social facul- 
 Wes. It lulls to sleep the combative and destructive propensi- 
 ties, and hence — so far as a material agent may operate — ^it 
 
180 THE LANDB OP THE SABACEN. 
 
 exercises a hami^nizmg and refining influence. A profoond 
 student of Man, whose name is well known to the world, once 
 informed me that he saw in the eagerness with which sayage 
 tribes adopt the use of Tobacco, a spontaneons movement of 
 Nature towards Civilization. 
 
 I will not pursue these speculations farther, for the narghileh 
 (bubbling softly at my elbow, as I write) is the promoter of 
 repose and the begetter of agreeable reverie. As I inhale its 
 cool, fragrant breath, and partly yield myself to the sensation 
 of healthy rest which wraps my limbs as with a velvet mantle, 
 I marvel how the poets and artists and scholars of olden times 
 nursed those dreams which the world calls indolence, but which 
 are the seeds that germinate into great achievements. How did 
 Plato philosophize without the pipe ? How did gray Homer, 
 sitting on the temple-steps in the Grecian twilights, drive 
 from his heart the bitterness of beggary and blindness ? How 
 did Phidias charm the Cerberus of his animal nature to sleep, 
 while his soul entered the Elysian Fields and beheld the forms 
 of heroes ? For, in the higher world of Art, Body and Soul 
 are sworn enemies, and the pipe holds an opiate more potent 
 than air the drowsy syrups of the East, to drug the former 
 into submission. Milton knew this, as he smoked his evening 
 pipe at Chalfotft, wandering, the while, among the palms of 
 Paradise. 
 
 But it is also our loss, that Tobacco was unknown to the 
 Gi"eeks, They would else have given us, in verse and in mar- 
 ble, another divinity in their glorious Pantheon — a god less 
 drowsy than Morpheus and Somnus, less riotous than Bacchus, 
 less radiant than Apollo, but with something of the spirit of 
 each : a figure, be<\ntiful with youth, every mnsde in perfect 
 
THE PIPB. 181 
 
 repose, and the vague expression of dreams in his half-closed 
 eyes. His temple would have been built in a grove of South- 
 ern pines, on the borders of a land-locked gulf, sheltered from 
 the surges that buffet without, where service would have been 
 rendered him in the late hours of the afternoon, or in the even- 
 ing twilight. From hia oracular tripod words of wisdom would 
 have been spoken, and the fanes of Delphi and Dodona would 
 have been deserted for his. 
 
 Oh, non-smoking friends, who read these lines with pain and 
 incredulity — and you, ladies, who turn pale at the thought of a 
 pipe — ^let me tell you that you are familiar only with the vul- 
 gar form of tobacco, and have never passed between the wind 
 and its gentility. The word conveys no idea to you but that 
 of " long nines," and pig-tail, and cavendish. Forget these for 
 a moment, and look upon this dark-brown cake of dried leaves 
 and blossoms, which exhales an odor of pressed flowers. These 
 are the tender tops of the Jeleke, plucked as the buds begin to 
 expand, and carefully dried in the shade. In order to be used, 
 it is moistened with rose-scented water, and cut to the neces- 
 sary degree of fineness. The test of true Jebelee is, that it 
 burns with a slow, hidden fire, like tinder, and causes no irrita- 
 tion to the eye when held under it. The smoke, drawn through 
 a long cherry-stick pipe and amber mouth-piece, is pure, cool, 
 and sweet, with an aromatic flavor, which is very pleasant in 
 the month. It excites no salivation, and leaves behind it no 
 unpleasant, stale odor. 
 
 The narghileh (still bubbling beside me) is an institution 
 known only in the East. It requires a peculiar kind of 
 tobacco, which grows to perfection in the southern provinces 
 of Persia. The smoke, after passing through water (rose- 
 
182 THE LANDS OP THE SABACEK. 
 
 flavored, if you choose), is inhaled through a long, flexible 
 tube directly into the langs. It occasions not the slightest 
 irritation or oppression, but ia a few minutes produces a 
 delicious sense of rest, which is felt even in the finger-ends. 
 The pure physical sensation of rest is one of strength also, and 
 of perfect contentment. Many an impatient thought, many an 
 angry word, have! avoided by a resort to the pipe. Among 
 oar aborigines the pipe was the emblem of Peace, and I 
 strongly recommend the Peace Society to {vint their tracts 
 npon papers of smoking tobacco (Turkish, if possible), and 
 distribute pipes wiUi them. 
 
 I know of nothing more refreshing, after the fatigue of a long 
 day's journey, than a well-prepared nairghileh. That slight 
 feverish and excitable feeling which is the result of fatigue 
 yields at once to ita potency. The blood loses its heat and the 
 pulse its rapidity ; the muscles relax, the nerves are soothed 
 into quiet, and the frame passes into a condition similar to 
 sleep, except that th& mind is awake and active. By the time 
 one has finished his pipe, he is refreshed for the remainder of 
 the day, and his flight^ sleep is sound and healthy. Such are 
 some of the -physical effects of the pipe, in Eastern lands. 
 Morally and psychologicallv, it works still greater traoisforma- 
 tions ; bat to describe them now, with the mouth-piece at my 
 lips, would require an active self-consciousness which the habit 
 does not allow. 
 
 A servant enters with a steamy cup of coffee, seated in a 
 silver serf, or cnpiolder. His thumb and fore-finger are 
 clasped fimlj upon the bottom of the zerf, which I inclose 
 near the top with my own thumb and finger, so that the trans* 
 fer is accomplished without his hand having touched mine 
 
oorrEB. 183 
 
 After draining the thick brown liquid, which must be done 
 with due deliberation and a pause of satisfaction between each 
 sip, I return the zerf, holding it in the middle, while the atten- 
 dant places a palm of each hand upon the top and bottom and 
 carries it off without contact. The beverage is made of the 
 berries of Mocha, slightly roasted, pTilverized in a mortar, and 
 heated to a foam, without the addition of cream or sugar. 
 Sometimes, however, it is flavored with the extract of roses or 
 violets. When skilfully made, each cup is prepared separately, 
 and the quantity of water and coffee carefully measured. 
 
 Coffee is a true child of the East, and its original home was 
 among the hills of Yemen, the Arabia Felix of the ancients. 
 Fortunately for Mussnlmen, its use was unknown in the days 
 of Mahomet, or it would probably have fallen under the same 
 prohibition as wine. The word Kahweh (whence cafe) is an 
 old Arabic term for wine. The discovery of the properties of 
 coffee is attributed to a dervish, who, for some misdemeanor, 
 was carried into- the mountains of Yemen by his brethren and 
 there left to perish by starvation. In order to appease the 
 pangs of hunger he gathered the ripe berries- from the wild 
 coffee-trees, roasted and ate them. The nourishment they con- 
 tained, with water from the springs, sustained his life, and after 
 two or three months h& returned in good condition to his 
 brethren, who considered his preservatipn as a miracle, and 
 ever afterwards looked upon him as a pattern of holiness. He 
 taught the use of the miraculous fruit, and the demand for it 
 soon became so great as to render the cultivation of the tree 
 necessary. It was a long time, however, before coffee was 
 introduced into Europe. As late as the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century, Sau^s, the quaint old traveller, describes 
 
184 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 the appearance and taste of the beverage, which he calls 
 " Coffa," and sagely asks : " Why not that black broth which 
 the Lacedemonians used?" 
 
 On acconnt of the excellence of the material, and the skilful 
 manner of its preparation, the Coffee of the East is the finest 
 in the world. I have found it so grateful and refreshing a 
 drink, that I can readily pardon the pleasant exaggeration of 
 the Arabic poet, Abd-el Kader Anazari Djezeri Hanbali, the 
 son of Mahomet, who thus celebrates its virtues. After such 
 an exalted eulogy, my own praises would sound dull and tame ; 
 and I therefore resume my pipe, commending Abd-el Kader to 
 the reader. 
 
 " O Coffee I thou dispellest the cares of the great ; thou 
 brihgest back those who wander from the paths of knowledge. 
 Coffee is the beverage of the people of God, and the cordial 
 of his servants who thirst for wisdom. When coffee is infused 
 into the bowl, it exhales the odor of musk, and is of the color 
 of ink. The truth is not known except to the wise, who drink 
 it from the foaming coffee-cup. God has deprived fools of 
 coffee, who, with invincible obstinacy, condemn it as injurious. 
 
 " Coffee is our gold ; and in the place of its libations we are 
 in the enjoyment of the best and noblest society. 'Coffee is 
 even as innocent a drink as the purest milk, from which it is 
 distinguished only by its color. Tarry with thy coffee in the 
 place of its preparation, and the good God will hover over 
 thee and participate in his feast. There the graces of the 
 saloon, the luxury of life, the society of friends, all furnish a 
 picture of the abode of happiness. 
 
 " Every care vanishes when the cup-bearer presents the deli- 
 cious chalice. It will circulate fleetly through thy veins, and 
 
THE PRAISE OP COFFEE. 185 
 
 will not rankle there : if thou doubtest this, contemplate the 
 youth and beauty of those who drink it. Grief cannot exist 
 where it grows ; sorrow humbles itself in obedience before its 
 powers. 
 
 " Coffee is the drink of God's people ; in it is health. Let 
 this be the answer to those who doubt its qualities. In it we 
 will drown our adversities, and in its fire consume our sorrows. 
 Whoever has once seen the blissful chalice, will scorn the wine- 
 cup. Glorious drink ! thy color is the seal of purity,^ and 
 reason proclaims it genuine. Drink with confidence, and regard 
 not the prattle of fools, who condemn without foundation." 
 
186 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JOURNEY TO ANTIOCH AND ALEPPO. 
 
 Change of Flans— Soutea to Baghdad— Asia Minor— We sail from Beyi'out— Yachting 
 on the Syrian Coast— Tartua and Latakiyeh— The Coasts of Syria— The Bay of Sne- 
 diah — ^The Mouth of the Orontes — ^Landing — The Garden of Syi-ia — Ride to Antioch 
 — ^The Modem City — The Plains of the Orontes — Remains of the Greeic Empire — The 
 Ancient Road — The Plain of Keftin — ^Approach to Aleppo. 
 
 " The chain is loosed, the sails are spread, 
 The living breath is fresh behind, 
 As, with dews and sunrise fed. 
 Comes the laughing morning wind." 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 Aleppo, Friday, Jwne 4, 1863. 
 
 A TRAVELLER iu the East, who has not unbounded time and an 
 extensive fortune at his disposal, is never certain where and 
 how far he shall go, until his journey is finished. With but a 
 limited portion of both these necessaries, I have so far carried 
 out my original plan with scarcely a variation; but at present I 
 am obliged to make a material change of route. My farthest 
 East is here at Aleppo. At Damascus, I was told by every- 
 body that it was too late in the season to visit either Baghdad 
 or Mosul, and that, on account of the terrible summer heats 
 and the fevers which prevail along the Tigris, it would be 
 imprudent to undertake it. Notwithstanding this, I should 
 probably have gone (being now so thoroughly acclimated that 
 I have nothing to fear from the heat), had I not met with a 
 
ROUTES TO BAGHDAD. 187 
 
 Mend of Col. Rawlinson, the companion of Layard, and the 
 sharer in his discoveries at Nineveh. This gentleman, who 
 met Col. E,. not long since in Constantinople, on his way to 
 Baghdad (where he resides as British Consul), informed me 
 that since the departure of Mr. Layard from Mosul, the most 
 interesting excavations have been filled up, in order to preserve 
 the sculptures. Unless one was able to make a new exhuma- 
 tion, he would be by no means repaid for so long and arduous 
 a journey. The ruins of Nineveh are all below the surface 
 of the earth, and the little of them that is now left exposed, 
 is less complete and interesting than the specimens in the 
 British Museum. 
 
 There is a route from Damascus to Baghdad, across the 
 Desert, by way of Palmyra, but it is rarely travelled, even by 
 the natives, except when the caravans are sufficiently strong to 
 withstand the attacks of the Bedouins. The traveller is 
 obliged to go m Arab costume, to leave his baggage behind, 
 except a meagre scrip for tie journey, and to pay from $300 to 
 $500 for the camels and escort. The more usuat route is to 
 come northward to this city, then cross to Mosul and descend 
 the Tigris — a journey of four or five weeks. After weighing 
 aU the advantages and disadvantages of undertaking a tour of 
 such length as it would be necessary to make before reaching 
 Constantinople, I decided at Beyrout to give up the fascinating 
 fields of travel in Media, Assyria and Armenia, and take a 
 rather shorter and perhaps equally interesting route from 
 Aleppo to- Constantinople, by way of Tarsus, Konia (Iconium), 
 and the ancient countries of Phrygia, Bithynia, and Mysia. 
 The interior of Asia Minor is even less known to us than the 
 Persian side of Asiatic Turkey, which has of late received 
 
188 THE LANDS OP THE SABAOEN. 
 
 more attention from travellers ; and, as I shall traverse it in 
 its whole length, from Syria to the Bosphoms, I may find it 
 replete with " green fields and pastures new," which shall repay 
 me for relinquishing the first and more ambitious undertaking. 
 At least, I have so much reason to be grateful for the uninter- 
 rupted good health and good luck I have enjoyed during seven 
 months in Africa and the Orient, that I cannot be otherwise 
 than content with the prospect before me. 
 
 I left Beyrout on the night of the 28th of May, with Mr. 
 Harrison, who has decided to keep me company as far as Con- 
 stantinople. Francois, our classic dragoman, whose great 
 delight is to recite Homer by the sea-side, is retained for the 
 whole tour, as we have found no reason to doubt his honesty 
 or ability. Our first thought was to proceed to Aleppo by 
 land, by way of Homs and Hamah, whence there might be a 
 chance of reaching Palmyra ; but as we found an opportunity 
 of engaging an American yacht for the voyage up the coast, 
 it was thought preferable to take her, and save time. She was 
 a neat little craft, called the "American Eagle," brought out by 
 Mr. Smith, our Consul at Beyrout. So, one fine moonlit night, 
 we slowly crept out of the harbor, and after returning a volley 
 of salutes from our friends at Demetri's Hotel, ran into the 
 heart of a thunder-storm, which poured down more rain than 
 all I had seen for eight months before. But our rai's, Assad 
 (the Lion), was worthy of his name, and had two good Chris- 
 tian sailors at his command, so wo lay in the cramped little 
 cabin, and heard the floods washing our deck, without 
 fear. 
 
 In the morning, we were off Tripoli, which is even more 
 deeply buried than Beyrout in its orange and mulberry groves, 
 
THE COAST OF STEIA. 189 
 
 and slowly wafted along the bold mountain-coast, in the after- 
 noon reached Tartus, the Ancient Tortosa. A mile from shore 
 is the rocky island of Aradus, entirely covered by a town. 
 There were a dozen vessels lying in the harbor. The remains 
 of a large fortress and ancient mole prove it to have been a 
 place of considerable importance. Tartus is a small old place 
 on the sea-shore — ^not so large nor so important in acpearance 
 as its island-port. The country behind is green and hilly, 
 though but partially cultivated, and rises into Djebel Ansairi- 
 yeh, which divides the valley of the routes from the sea. It 
 is a lovely coast, especially under the flying lights and shadows 
 of such a breezy day as we had. The wind fell at sunset ; but 
 by the next morning, we had passed the tobaoco-fields of Lata- 
 kiyeh, and were in sight of the southern cape of the Bay of 
 Suediah. The mountains forming this cape culminate in a grand 
 conical peak, about 5,000 feet in height, called Djebel Okrab. 
 At ten o'clock, wafted along by a slow wind, we turned the 
 point and entered the Bay of Suediah, formed by the embou- 
 chure of the River Orontes. The mountain headland of Akma 
 Dagh, forming the portal of the Gulf of Scanderoon, loomed 
 grandly in front of us across the bay ; and far beyond it, we 
 could just distinguish the coast of Karamania, the snow-capped 
 range of Taurus. 
 
 The Coasts of Syria might be divided, like those of Guinea, 
 according to the nature of their productions. The northern 
 division is bold and bare, yet flocks of sheep graze on the 
 slopes of its mountains ; and the inland plains behind them are 
 covered with orchards of pistachio-trees. Silk is cultivated in 
 the neighborhood of Suediah, but forms only a small portion 
 of the exports. This region may be called the Wool and Pis- 
 
190 THK LANDS or THE SABACEN. 
 
 tachio Coast. Southward, from Lataklyeh to Tartus and the 
 northern limit of Lebanon, extends the Tobacco Coast, whose 
 nndnlating hills are now clo!hed with the pale-green leaves of 
 the renowned plant. From Tripoli to Tyre, embracing a,ll the 
 western slope of Lebanon, and the deep, rich valleys lying 
 between his knees, the mulberry predominates, and the land is 
 covered with the houses of thatch and matting which shelter 
 the busy worms. This is the Silk Coast. The palmy plains of 
 Jaffa, and beyond, until Syria meets the African sands between 
 Gaza and El-Arish, constitute the Orange Coast. The vine, 
 the oUve, and the fig flourish everywhere. 
 , We were all day getting up the bay, and it seemed as if we 
 should never pass Djebel Okrab, whose pointed top rose high 
 above a long belt of fleecy clouds that girdled his waist. At 
 sunset we made the mouth of the Orontes. Our lion of a 
 Captain tried to run into the river, but the channel was very 
 narrow, and when within three hundred yards of the shore the 
 yacht struck. We had all sail set, and had the wind been a 
 little stronger, we should have capsized in an instant. The lion 
 went manfully to work, and by dint of hard poling, shoved us 
 off, and came to anchor in deep water. Not until the danger 
 was past did he open his batteries on the unlucky helmsman, and 
 then the explosion of Arabic oaths was equal to a broadside 
 of twenty-four pounders. We lay all night rocking on the 
 swells, and the next morning, by firing a number of signal guns, 
 brought out a boat,^ which took us off. We entered the mouth 
 of the Orontes, and sailed nearly a mUe between rich wheat 
 meadows before reaching the landing-place of Suediah — two or 
 three uninhabited stone huts, with three or four small Turkish 
 craft, and a health officer. The town lies a mile or two inland, 
 
THE GARDEN OF SYEIA. 191 
 
 scattered along the hill-side amid gardens so luxuriant as 
 almost to conceal it from view. 
 
 This part of the coast is ignorant of travellers, and we were 
 obliged to wait half a day before we could find a sufScient 
 number of horses to take us to Antioch, twenty miles distant. 
 When they came, they were solid farmers' horses, with the 
 rudest gear imaginable. I was obliged to mount astride of a 
 broad pack-saddle, with my legs suspended in' coils of rope. 
 Leaving the meadows, we entered a lane of the wildest, rich' 
 est and loveliest bloom and foliage. Our way was overhung 
 with hedges of pomegranate, myrtle, oleander, and white rose, 
 in blossom, and occasionally with quince, fig, and carob trees,, 
 laced together with grape vines in fragrant bloom. Sometimes 
 this wilderness of color and odor met above our heads and 
 made a twilight ; then it opened into long, dazzling, sun- 
 bright vistas, where the hues of the oleander, pomegranate and 
 white rose made the eye wink with their gorgeous profusion. 
 The mountains we crossed were covered with thickets of myrtle, 
 mastic, daphne, and arbutus, and all the valleys and sloping 
 meads waved with fig, mulberry, and olive trees. Looking 
 towards the sea, the valley, broadened out between mountain 
 ranges whose summits were lost in the clouds. Though the 
 soil was not so rich as in Palestine, the general aspect of the 
 country was much wilder and more luxuriant. • 
 
 So, by this glorious lane, over the myrtled hills and down 
 into valleys, whose bed was one hue of rose from the blossom- 
 ing oleanders, we travelled for five hours, crossing the low 
 ranges of hills through which the Orontes forces his way to the 
 sea. At last we reached a height overlooking the valley of 
 the river, and saw in the east, a,t the foot of the mountain 
 
192 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 chain, the long lines of barracks built by Ibrahim Pasha for 
 the defence of Antioch. Behind them the ancient wall of the 
 city clomb the monntaias, whose crest it followed to the last 
 peak of the chain. From the next hill we saw the city — a 
 large extent of one-story houses with tUed roofs, surrounded 
 with gardens, and half buried in the foliage of sycamores. It 
 extends from the River Orontes, which washes its walls, np the 
 slope of the mountain to the crags of gray rock which over- 
 hang it. We crossed the river by a massive old bridge, and 
 entered the town. Biding along the rills of filth which tra- 
 verse the streets, forming their central avenues, we passed 
 through several lines of bazaars to a large and dreary-looking 
 khan, the keeper of which gave ns the best vacant chamber — 
 a narrow place, full of fleas. 
 
 Antioch presents not even a shadow of its former splendor. 
 Except the great walls, ten to fifteen mUes in circuit, which 
 the Turks have done their best to destroy, every vestige of the 
 old city has disappeared. The houses are ail of one story, on 
 account of earthquakes, from which Antioch has suffered more 
 than any other city in the world. At one time, during the 
 Middle Ages, it lost 120,000 inhabitants in one day. Its situ- 
 ation is magnificent, and the modern town, notwithstanding its 
 filth, wears a bright and busy aspect. Situated at the base of 
 a lofty mountain, it overlooks, towards the east, a plain thirty 
 or forty miles in length, producing the most abundant harvests. 
 A great number of the inhabitants are workers in wood and 
 leather, and very thrifty and cheerful people they appear to be. 
 
 We remained until the next day at noon, by which time a 
 gray-bearded scamp, the chief of the mufikairees, or muleteers, 
 Hucceeded in getting ns five Miserable beaats for the journey 
 
THE VALLEY OF THE ORONTES. 193 
 
 to Aleppo. On leaving the city, we travelled along a former 
 street of Antioch, part of the ancient pavement still remain- 
 ing, and after two miles came to the old wall of circuit, which 
 we passed by a massive gateway, of Roman time. It is now 
 called Bah Bovios, or St. Paul's Gate. Christianity, it will 
 be remembered, was planted in Antioch by Paul and Barna- 
 bas, and the Apostle Peter was the first bishop of the city. 
 We nqw entered the great plain of the Orontes — a level sea, 
 rioting in the wealth of its ripening harvests. The river, lined 
 with luxuriant thickets, meandered through the centre of this 
 glorious picture. We crossed it during the afternoon, and 
 keeping on our eastward course, encamped at night in a mea- 
 dow near the tents of some wandering Turcomans, who fur- 
 nished us with butter and milk from their herds. 
 
 Leaving the plain the next morning, we travelled due east 
 all day, over long stony ranges of mountains, inclosing only 
 one valley, which bore evidence of great fertility. It was cir- 
 cular, about ten miles in its greater diameter, and bounded on 
 the north by the broad peak of Djebel Saman, or Mount St. 
 Simon. In the morning we passed a ruined castle, standing in 
 a dry, treeless dell, among the hot hills. The muleteers called 
 it the Maiden's Palace, and said that it w>s built long ago by 
 a powerful Sultan, as a prison for his daughter. For several 
 hours thereafter, our road was lined with remains of buildings, 
 apparently dating^ from the time of the Greek Empire. There 
 were tombs, temples of massive masonry, though in a bad style 
 of architecture, and long rows of arched chambers, which 
 resembled store-houses. They were all more or less shattered 
 by earthquakes, but in one place I noticed twenty such arches, 
 each of at least twenty feet span. All the hills, on either 
 
 9 
 
194 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACKN. 
 
 hand, as far as we could see, were covered with the remains of 
 buildings. In the plain of St. Simon, I saw two superb pil- 
 lars, apparently part of a portico, or gateway, and the village 
 of Dana is formed almost entirely of churches and convents, 
 of the Lower Empire. There were but few inscriptions, and 
 these I could not read ; but the whole of this region would, 
 no doubt, richly repay an antiquarian research. I am told here 
 that the entire chain of hills, whict extends southward for 
 more than a hundred miles, abounds with similar remains, and 
 that, in many places, whole cities stand almost entire, as if 
 recently deserted by their inhabitants. 
 
 During the afternoon, we came upon a portion of the ancient 
 road from Antioch to Aleppo, which is still as perfect as when 
 first constructed. It crossed a very stony ridge, and is much 
 the finest specimen of road-making I ever saw, quite putting 
 to shame the Appian and Flaminian Ways at Rome. ' It is 
 twenty feet wide, and laid with blocks of white marble, from 
 two to four feet square. It was apparently raised upon a more 
 ancient road, which diverges here and there from the line, 
 showing the deeply-cut traces of the Boman chariot-wheels. In 
 the barren depths of the mountains we found every hour 
 cisterns cut in the rock and filled with water left by the winter 
 rains. Many of them, however, are fast drying up, and a 
 month later this will be a desert road. 
 
 Towards night we descended from the hills upon the Plain of 
 Keftin, which stretches south-westward from Aleppo, till the 
 mountain-streams which fertilize it are dried up, when it is 
 merged into the Syrian Desert. Its northern edge, along 
 which we travelled, is covered with fields of wheat, cotton, and 
 castor-beans. We stopped all night at a village called Taireb, 
 
APPROACH TO ALEPPO. 195 
 
 planted at the foot of a tumulus, older than tradition. The 
 people were iu great dread of the Aneyzeh Arabs, who come 
 in from the Desert to destroy their harvests and carry off their 
 cattle. They wanted us to take a guard, but after our expe- 
 rience on the Anti-Lebanon, we felt safer without one. 
 
 Yesterday we travelled for seven hours over a wide, rolling 
 country, now waste and barren, but formerly covered with wealth 
 and supporting an abundant population, evidences of which are 
 found in the buildings everywhere scattered over the hills. On 
 and on we toiled in the heat, over this inhospitable wilderness, 
 and though we knew Aleppo must be very near, yet we could 
 see neither sign of cultivation nor inhabitants. Pinally, about 
 three o'clock, the top of a line of shattered wall and the points 
 of some minarets issued out of the earth, several miles in front 
 of us, and on climbing a glaring chalky ridge, the renowned 
 city burst at once upon our view. It filled a wide hollow or 
 basin among the white hiUs, against which its whiter houses 
 and domes glimmered for miles, in the dead, dreary heat of the 
 afternoon, scarcely relieved by the narrow belt of gardens on 
 the nearer side, or the orchards of pistachio trees beyond. In 
 the centre of the city rose a steep, abrupt mound, crowned 
 with the remains of the ancient citadel, and shining minarets 
 shot up, singly or in clusters, around its base. The prevailing 
 hue of the landscape was a whitish-gray, and the long, stately 
 city and long, monotonous hills, gleamed with equal brilliancy 
 under a sky of cloudless and intense blue. This singular 
 monotony of coloring gave a wonderful effect to the view, 
 which is one of the most remarkable in all the Orient. 
 
196 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LIFE IN ALEPPO. 
 
 Our Entiylnto Aleppo-^-We are conducted to a House — Our Unexpected Welcome — Th« 
 Mystery Explained— Aleppo— Its Name— Its Situation— The Trade of Aleppo— The 
 Christians— The Revolt of 1860- Present Appearance of the City— Tisit to Osman 
 Pasha — The Citadel— Tiew from the Battlements— Society in Aleppo— Etiquette and 
 Costume— Jewish Marriage Festivities— A Christian Marriage Procession— Ride 
 around the Town— Nightingales- The Aleppo Button— A Hospital for Oats— Ferhat 
 Pasha. 
 
 A1.BPP0, Thiesday, Jwie 8, 1852. 
 
 Our entry into Aleppo was a fitting preliminary to our expe- 
 riences during the five days we have spent here. After passing 
 a blackamoor, who acted as an advanced guard of the Custom 
 House, at a ragged tent outside of the city, and bribing him 
 with two piastres, we crossed the narrow line of gardens on 
 the western side, and entered the streets. There were many 
 coffee-houses, filled with smokers, nearly all of whom accosted 
 us in Turkish, though Arabic is the prevailing language here. 
 Ignorance made us discourteous, and we slighted every attempt 
 .to open a conversation. Out of the narrow streets of the 
 suburbs, we advanced to the bazaars, in order to find a khan 
 where we could obtain lodgings. All the best khans, however, 
 were filled, and we were about to take a very inferior room, 
 when a respectable individual came up to Frangois and said : 
 ' The house is ready for the travellers, and I will show you the 
 
AN UNEXPECTED WELCOME. 19T 
 
 way." We were a little surprised at this address, but followed 
 him to a neat, quiet and pleasant street near the bazaars, 
 where we were ushered into a spacious court-yard, with a row 
 of apartments opening uposi it, and told to make ourselves at 
 home. 
 
 The place had evidently been recently inhabited, for the 
 rooms were well furnisbed, with not only divans, but beds in 
 the Frank style. A lean kitten was scratching at one of the 
 windows, to the great danger of overturning a pair of narghi- 
 lehs, a tame sea-gull Was walking about the court, and two 
 sheep bleated in a stable at the further end. In the kitchen 
 we not only found a variety of utensils, but eggs, salt, pepper, 
 and other condiments. Our guide had left, and the only infor- 
 mation we could get, from a dyeing establishment next door, 
 was that the occupants had gone into the country. " Take 
 the good the gods provide thee," is my rule in such cases, and 
 as we were very hungry, we set Frangois to work at preparing 
 dinner. We arranged a divan in the open air, had a table 
 brought out, and by the aid of the bakers in the bazaar, and 
 the stores which the kitchen supplied, soon rejoiced over a very 
 palatable meal. The romantic character of our reception made 
 the dinner a merry one. It was a chapter out of the Arabian 
 Nights, and be he genie or afrite, caliph or merchant of Bas- 
 sora, into whose hands we had fallen, we resolved to let the 
 adventure take its course. We were just finishing a nonde- 
 script pastry which Francois found at a baker's, and which, for 
 want of a better name, he called tneringues a la Khorassam, 
 when there was a loud knock at the street door. We felt at 
 first some little trepidation, but determined to maintain our 
 places, and gravely invite the real master to join us. 
 
198 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 It was a feinale servant, however, who, to our great amaze- 
 ment, made a profound salutation, and seemed delighted to see 
 us. " My master did not expect your Excellencies to-day ; he 
 has gone into the gardens, but will soon return. Will your 
 Excellencies take coffee after your dinner?" and coffee was 
 forthwith served. The old woman was unremitting in her 
 attentions ; and her son, a boy of ei^t years, and the most 
 venerable child I ever saw, entertained us with the description 
 of a horse which his master had just bought — a horse which 
 had cost two thousand piastres, and was ninety years old. 
 Well, this Aleppo is an extraordinary place, was my first 
 impression, and the inhabitants are remarkable people ; but I 
 waited the master's arrival, as the only means of solving the 
 mystery. About dusk, there was another rap at the door. A 
 lady dressed in white, with an Indian handkerchief bound over 
 her black hair, arrived. "Pray excuse ns,'' said she; "we 
 thought you would not reach here before to-morroir ; but my 
 brother will come directly." In fkct, the broths did come 
 soon afterwards, and greeted us with a still warmer welcome. 
 " Before leaving the gardens," he said, " I heard of your- arri- 
 val, and have come in a full gallop the whole way." In order 
 to put an end to this comedy of errors, I declared at once 
 that he was mistaken ; nobody in Aleppo could possibly know 
 of our coming, and we were, perhaps, transgressing on his 
 hospitality. But no : he would not be convinced. He was a 
 dragoman to the English Copsulate ; his master had told him 
 we would be here the next day, and he must be prepared to 
 receive us. Besides, the janissary of the Consulate had showed 
 us the way to his house. We, therefore, let the matter rest 
 until next morning, when we called on Mr. Very, the Consul, 
 
ALEPPO — ITS NAME. 199 
 
 who informed us that the janissary had mistaken us for two 
 gentlemen we had met in Damascus, the travelling companions 
 of Lord Dalkeith. As they had not arrived, he begged us to 
 remain in the quarters which had been prepared for them. 
 We have every reason to be glad of this mistake, as it has 
 made us acquainted with one of the most courteous and hospi- 
 table gentlemen in the East. 
 
 Aleppo lies so far out of the usual routes of travel, that it 
 is rarely visited by Europeans. One is not, therefore, as in the 
 case of Damascus, prepared beforehand by volumes of descrip- 
 tion, which preclude all possibility of mistake or surprise. For 
 my part, I only, knew that Aleppo had once been the greatest 
 commercial city of the Orient, though its power had long since 
 passed into other hands. But there were certain stately asso- 
 ciations lingering around the name, which drew me towards it, 
 and obliged me to include it, at all hazards, in my Asiatic tour. 
 The scanty description of Captains Irby and Mangles, the only 
 one I had read, gave me no distinct idea of its position or 
 appearance ; and when, the other day, I first saw it looming 
 grand and gray among the gray hills, more like a vast natural 
 crystallization than the product of human art, I revelled in the 
 novelty of that startling first impression. 
 
 The tradition of the city's name is curious, and worth 
 relating. It is called, in Arabic, Hakh d-Shahla — Aleppo, 
 the Gray — which most persons suppose to refer to the prevail- 
 ing color of the soil. The legend, however, goes much" farther. 
 Hakh, which the Venetians and Genoese softened into Aleppo, 
 means literally : " has mOked." According to Arab tradition, 
 the patriarch Abraham once lived here : his tent being pitched 
 near the mound now occupied by the citadel. He had a cer- 
 
200 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 tain gray cow (elrshahba) which was milked every morning for 
 the benefit of the poor. When, therefore, it was proclaimed : 
 "Ibrahim hoM elrshahba" (Abraham has milked the gray 
 cow), all the poor of the tribe came up to receive their share. 
 The repetition of this morning call attached itself to the spot, 
 and became the name of the city which was afterwards 
 founded. 
 
 Aleppo is built on the eastern slope of a shallow upland 
 basin, through which flows the little River Koweik. There 
 are low hills to the north and south, between which the conn- 
 try falls into a wide, monotonous plain, extending unbroken 
 to the Euphrates. The city is from eight to ten miles in cir- 
 cuit, and, though not so thickly populated, covers a greater 
 extent of space than Damascus. The population is estimated 
 at 100,000. In the excellence (not the elegance) of its archi- 
 tecture, it surpasses any Oriental city I have yet seen. The 
 houses are ail of hewn stone, frequently three and even four 
 stories in height, and built in a most massive and durable 
 style, on account of the frequency of earthquakes. The streets 
 are well paved, clean, with narrow sidewalks, and less tortuous 
 and intricate than the bewildering alleys of Damascus. A 
 large part of the town is occupied with bazaars, attesting the 
 splendor of its former commerce. These establishments are 
 covered with lofty vaults of stone, lighted from the top ; and 
 one may walk for miles beneath the spacious roofs. The shops 
 exhibit all the stuffs of the East, especially of Persia and 
 India. There is also an extensive display of European fabrics, 
 as the eastern provinces of Asiatic Taikey, as far as Baghdad, 
 are supplied entirely from Aleppo and Trebizond. 
 
 Within ten years — in fact, since the Allied Powers drove 
 
TBADE OF ALEPPO. 201 
 
 Ibrahim Pasha out of Syria — the trade «f Aleppo has increased, 
 at the expense of Damascus. The tribes of the Desert, who 
 were held in check dnrmg the Egyptian occupancy, are now 
 so unruly that much of the commerce between the latter place 
 and Baghdad goes northward to Mosul, and thence by a safer 
 road to this city. The khans, of which there are a great num- 
 ber, built on a scale according with the former magnificence of 
 Aleppo, are nearly all filled, and Persian, Georgian, and Arme- 
 nian merchants again make their appearance in the bazaars. 
 The principal manufactures carried on are the making of shoes 
 (which, indeed, is a prominent branch in every Turkish city), 
 and the weaving of silk and golden tissues. Two long bazaars 
 are entirely occupied with shoe-shops, and there is nearly a 
 quarter of a mUe of confectionery, embracing more varieties 
 than I ever saw, or imagined possible. I saw yesterday the 
 operation of weaving Silk and gold, which is a very slow pro- 
 cess. The warp and the body of the woof were of purple sUk. 
 The loom only differed from the old hand-looms in general use 
 in having some thirty or forty contrivances for lifting the 
 threads of the warp, so as to form, by variation, certain prit- 
 terns. The gold threads by which the pattern was worked 
 were contained in twenty small shuttles, thrust by hand under 
 the different parcels of the warp, as they were raised by a boy 
 trained for that purpose, who sat on the top of the loom. The 
 fabric was very brilliant in its appearance, and sells, as the 
 weavers informed me, at 100 piastres per pik — about $1 per 
 yard. 
 
 Wo had letters to Mr. Ford, an American Missionary estab- 
 lished here, and Signer di Picciotto, who acts as American 
 Vice-Consul. Both gentlemen have been very cordial in their 
 
202 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 offers of service, aud by their aid we have been enabled to see 
 something of Aleppo life and society. Mr. Ford, who has been 
 here four years, has a pleasant residence at Jedaida, a Christian 
 suburb of the city. His congregation numbers some fifty or 
 sixty proselytes, who are mostly from the schismatic sects of 
 the Armenians. Dr. Smith, who established the mission at 
 Ain-tab (two days' journey north of this), where he died last 
 year, was very successful among these sects, and the congrega- 
 tion there amounts to nine hundred. The Sultan, a year ago, 
 issued a firman, permitting his Christian subjects to erect 
 houses of worship ; but, although this was proclaimed in Con- 
 stantinople and much lauded in Europe as an act of great 
 generosity and tolerance, there has been no ofBcial promulga- 
 tion of it here. So of the aid which the Turkish Government 
 was said to have afforded to its destitute Christian subjects, 
 whose houses were sacked during the fanatical rebellion of 1850. 
 The world praised the Sultan's charity and love of justice, 
 while the sufferers, to this day, lack the first experience of it. 
 But for the spontaneous relief contributed in Europe and 
 among the Christian communities of the Levant, the amount 
 of misery would have been frightful. 
 
 To Feridj Pasha, who is at present the commander of the 
 forces here, is mainly due the credit of having put down the 
 rebels with a strong hand. There were but few troops in the 
 city at the time of the outbreak, and as the insurgents, who 
 were composed of the Turkish and Arab population, were in 
 league with the Aneyzehs of the Desert, the least faltering or 
 delay would have led to a universal massacre of the Christians. 
 Fortunately, the troops were divided into two portions, one 
 occupying the barracks on a hill north of the city, and the 
 
TBE REVOLT OF 1850. 203 
 
 Other, a mere corporal's guard of a dozen men, posted in the 
 citadel. The leaders of the outbreak went to the latter and 
 offered him a large sum of money (the spoils of Christian 
 houses) to give up the fortress. With a loyalty to his duty 
 trul;^ miraculous among the Turks, he ordered his men to fire 
 upon them, and they beat a hasty retreat. The quarter of the 
 insurgents lay precisely between the barracks and the citadel, 
 and by order of Feridj Pasha a cannonade was immediately 
 opened on it from both points. It was not, however, until 
 many houses had been battered dowo, and a still larger number 
 destroyed by fire, that the rebels were brought to submission. 
 Their allies, the Aneyzehs, appeared on the hill east of Aleppo, 
 to the number of five or six thousand, but a few Well-directed 
 cannon-balls told them what they might expect, and they 
 Speedily retreated. Two or three hundred Christian families 
 lost nearly all of their property during the sack, and many 
 were left entirely destitute. The house in which Mr. Ford 
 lives was plundered of jewels and furniture to the amount of 
 400,000 piastres ($20,000). The robbers, it is said, were 
 amazed at the amount of spoil they found. The Government 
 made some feeble efforts to recover it, but the greater part 
 was already sold and scattered through a, thousand hands, and 
 the unfortunate Christians have only received about seven per 
 cent, of their loss. 
 
 The burnt- quarter has since been rebuilt, and I noticed 
 several Christians occupying shops in various parts ot it. But 
 many families, who fled at the time, still remain in various 
 parts of Syria, afraid to return to their homes. The Aneyzehs 
 9,nd other Desert tribes have latterly become more daring than 
 ever. Even in the immediate neighborhood of the city, the 
 
204 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 inhabitants are so fearful of them that all the grain is bronght 
 np to the very walls to be threshed. The burying-grounds on 
 both sides are now turned into threshing-floors, and all day 
 long tha Turkish peasants drive their heavy sleds around 
 among the tomb-stones. 
 
 On the second day after our arrival, we paid a visit to 
 Osman Pasha, Governor of the City and Province of Aleppo. 
 We went in state, accompanied by the Consul, with two janis- 
 saries in front, bearing silver maces, and a dragoman behind. 
 The serai, or palace, is a large, plain wooden buUding, and a 
 group of soldiers about the door, with a shabby carriage in the 
 court, were the only tokens of its character. We were ushered 
 at once into the presence of the Pasha, who is a man of about 
 seventy years, with a good-humored, though shrewd face. He 
 was quite cordial in his manners, complimenting us on our 
 Turkish costume, and vaunting his skill La physiognomy, which 
 at once revealed to him that we belonged to the highest class 
 of American nobility. In fact, in the firman which he has 
 since sent us, we are mentioned as " nobles." He invited us 
 to pass a day or two with him, saying that he should derive 
 much benefit from our superior knowledge. We replied that 
 such an intercourse could only benefit ourselves, as his greater 
 experience, and the distinguished wisdom which had made his 
 name long since familiar to our ears, precluded the hope of our 
 being of any service to him. After half an hour's stay, during 
 which we were regaled with jewelled pipes, exquisite Mocha 
 cofiee, and sherbet breathing of the gardens of Gulistan, we 
 took our leave. 
 
 The Pasha sent an ofBcer to show us the citadel. We 
 passed around the moat to the entrance on the western side, 
 
THE CITADEL. 205 
 
 consisting of a bridge and double gateway. The fortress, as I 
 have already stated, occupies the crest of an elliptical mound, 
 about one thousand feet by six hundred, and two hundred feet 
 in height. It is entirely encompassed by the city and forms a 
 prominent and picturesque feature in the distant view thereof. 
 Formerly, it was thickly inhabited, and at the time of the great 
 earthquake of 1822, there were three hundred families living 
 within the walls, nearly all of whom perished. The outer walls 
 were very much shattered on that occasion, but the enormous 
 towers and the gateway, the grandest specimen of Saracenic 
 architecture in the East, still remain entire. This gateway, by 
 which we entered, is colossal in its proportions. The outer 
 entrance, through walls ten feet thick, admitted us into a lofty 
 vestibule lined with marble, and containing many ancient 
 inscriptions in mosaic. Over the main portal, which is adorned 
 with sculptured lions' heads, there is a tablet stating that the 
 fortress was built by El Melek el Ashraf (the Holiest of 
 Kings), after which follows : " Prosperity to the True Believ- 
 ers — Death to the Infidels 1" A second tablet shows that it 
 was afterwards repaired by Mohammed ebn-Berkook, who, I 
 believe, was one of the Fatimite Caliphs. The shekh of the 
 citadel, who accompanied us, stated the age of the structure 
 at nine hundred years, which, as nearly as I can recollect the 
 Saracenic chronology, is correct. He called our attention to 
 numbers of iron arrow-heads sticking in the solid masonry — 
 the marks of ancient sieges. Before leaving, we were presented 
 with a bundle of arrows from the armory— undoubted relics 
 of Saracen warfare. 
 
 The citadel is now a mass of ruins, having been deserted 
 since tjie earthquake. Grass is growing on the ramparts, and 
 
206 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 the caper plant, with its white-and-purple blossoms, floarishes 
 among the piles of rubbish. Since the late rebellion, however, 
 a small military barrack has been built, an'd two companies of 
 soldiers are stationed ther». We walked around the walls, 
 which command a magnificent view of the city and the wide 
 plains to the south and east. It well deserves to rank with the 
 panorama of Cairo from the citadel, and that of Damascus from 
 the Anti-Lebanon, in extent, pictaresqneness and rich oriental 
 character. Out of the gray ring of the city, which incloses 
 the mound, rise the great white domes and the whiter minarets 
 of its numerous mosques, many of which are grand and impos- 
 ing structures. The course of the river through the centre of 
 the picture is marked by a belt of the greenest verdure, beyond 
 which, to the west, rises a chain of naked red hills, and still 
 further, fading on the horizon, the blue summit of Mt. St. 
 Simon, and the coast range of Akma Dagh. Eastward, over 
 vast orchards of pistachio trees, the barren plain of the 
 Euphrates fades away to a glimmering, hot horizon. Looking 
 downwards on the heart of the city, 1 was surprised to see a 
 number of open, grassy tracts, out of which, here and there, 
 small trees were growing. But, perceiving what appeared to be 
 subterranean entrances at various points, I found that these 
 tracts were upon the roofs of the houses and bazaars, verifying 
 what I had frequently heard, that in Aleppo the inhabitants 
 visit their friends in different parts of the city, by passing over 
 the roofs of the houses. Previous to the earthquake of 1822, 
 these vast roof-plains were cultivated as gardens, and presented 
 an extent of airy bowers as large, if not as magnificent, as 
 the renowned Hanging Gardens of ancient Babylon. 
 
 Accompanied by Signor di Picciotto, we spent two or three 
 
SOCIETY IN ALEPPO. 20t 
 
 days in visiting the houses of the principal Jewish and Chris- 
 tian families in Aleppo. We found, it is true, no such splendor 
 as in Damascus, but more solid and durable architecture, and a 
 more chastened elegance of tasto. The buildings are all of 
 hewn stone, the court-yards paved with marble, and the walls 
 rich with gilding and carved wood. Some of the teger dwell- 
 ings have small but beautiful gardens attached to them. We 
 were everywhere received with the greatest hospitality, and 
 the visits were considered as a favor Tather than an intrusion. 
 Indeed, I was frequently obliged to run the risk of giving 
 offence, by declining the refreshments which were offered us. 
 Each round of visits was a feat of strength, and we were 
 obliged to desist from sheer inability to support more coffee, 
 rose-water, pipes, and aromatic sweetmeats. The character of 
 society in Aleppo is singular 5 its very life and essence is eti- 
 quette. The laws which govern it are more inviolable than 
 those of the Medes and Persians. The question of precedence 
 among the different families is adjusted by the most delicate 
 scale, and rigorously adhered to in the most trifling matters. 
 Even we, humble voyagers as we are, have been obliged to 
 regulate our conduct according to it. After our having visited 
 certain families, certain others would have been deeply morti- 
 fied had we neglected to call upon them. Formerly, when a 
 traveller arrived here, he was expected to call upon the dif- 
 ferent Consuls, in -the order of their established precedence : 
 the Austrian first, English second, French third, &c. After 
 this, he was obliged to stay at home several days, to give the 
 Consuls an opportunity of returning the visits, which they 
 made in the same order. There was a diplomatic importance 
 about all his movements, and the least violation of eti- 
 
208 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 quette, through ignorance or neglect, was the town talk for 
 days. 
 
 This peculiarity in society is evidently a relic of the formal 
 times, when Aleppo was a semi- Venetian city, and the opulent 
 seat of Eastern commerce. Many of the inhabitants are 
 descended from the traders of those times, and they all speak 
 the lingtw, franca, or Levantine Italian. The women wear a 
 costume partly Turkish and partly European, combining the 
 graces of both ; it is, in my eyes, the most beautiful dress in 
 the world. They wear a rich scarf of some dark color on the 
 head, which, on festive occasions, is almost concealed by their 
 jewels, and the heavy scarlet pomegranate blossoms which 
 adorn their dark hair. A Turkish vest and sleeves of embroi- 
 dered silk, open in front, and a skirt of white or some light 
 color, completes the costume. The Jewesses wear in addition 
 a short Turkish caftam., and full trousers gathered at the ankles. 
 At a ball given by Mr. Very, the English Consul, which we 
 attended, all the Christian beauties of Aleppo were present 
 There was a fine display of diamonds, many of the ladies wear- 
 ing several thousand dollars' worth on their heads. The pecu- 
 liar etiquette of the place was again illustrated on this occa- 
 sion. The custom is, that the music must be heard for at least 
 one hour before the guests come. The hour appointed was 
 eight, but when we went there, at nine, nobody had arrived 
 As it was generally supposed that the ball was given on our 
 account, several of the families had servants in the neighbor- 
 hood to watch our arrival ; and, accordingly, we had not been 
 there five minutes before the guests crowded through the door 
 in large numbers. When the first dance (an Arab dance, per- 
 formed by two ladies at a time) was proposed, the wives of the 
 
JEWISH MARRIAGE PESTI7ITISS. 209 
 
 French and Spaaish Consuls were first led, or rather dragged, 
 out. When a lady is asked to dance, she invariably refuses. 
 She is asked a second and a third time ; and if the gentleman 
 does not solicit most earnestly, and use some gentle force in 
 getting her upon the floor, she never forgives him. 
 
 At one of the Jewish houses which we visited, the wedding 
 festivities of one of the daughters were being celebrated. We 
 were welcomed with great cordiality, and immediately ushered 
 into the room of state, an elegant apartment, overlooking the 
 gardens below the city wall. Half the room was occupied by 
 a raised platform, with a divan of blue silk cushions. Here 
 the ladies reclined, in superb dresses of blue, pink, and gold, 
 while the gentlemen were ranged on the floor below. They all 
 rose at our entrance, and we were conducted to seats among 
 the ladies. Pipes and perfumed drinks were served, and the 
 bridal cake, made of twenty-six different ■fruits, was presented 
 on a golden salver. Our fair neighbors, some of whom literal- 
 ly blazed with jewels, were strikingly beautiful. Presently the 
 bride appeared at the door, and we all rose and remained 
 standing, as she advanced, supported on eareh side by the two 
 sheheeniyeh, or bridesmaids. She was about sixteen, slight and 
 graceful in appearance, though not decidedly beautiful, and 
 was attired with the utmost elegance. Her dress was a pale 
 blue silk, heavy with gold embroidery; and over her long dark 
 hair, her neck, bosom, and wrists, played a thousand rainbow 
 gleams from the jewels which covered them. The Jewish musi- 
 cians, seated at the bottom of the hall, struck up a loud, 
 rejoicing harmony on their violins, guitars, and dulcimers, and 
 the women servants, grouped at the door, uttered in chorus that 
 wild, shrill cry, which accompanies all such festivals in the East, 
 
210 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 The bride was careful to preserve the decorum expected of 
 her, by speaking no word, nor losing the sad, resigned expres- 
 sion of her countenance. She ascended to the divan, bowed 
 to each of us with a low, reverential inclination, and seated 
 herself on the cushions. The music and dances lasted some 
 time, accompanied by the zughdreet, or cry of the women, 
 which was repeated with double force when we rose to take 
 leave. The whole company waited on us to the street door, 
 and one of the servants, stationed in the court, shouted some 
 long, sing-song phrases after us as we passed out. I could not 
 learn the words, but was told that it was an invocation 
 of prosperity upon us, in return for the honor which our visit 
 had conferred. 
 
 In the evening I went to View a Christian marriage proces- 
 sion, which, about midnight, conveyed the bride to the house 
 of the bridegroom. The house, it appeared, was too small to 
 receive all the friends of the family, and I joined a large num- 
 ber of them, who repaired to the terrace of the English Con- 
 sulate, to greet the procession as it passed. The first persons 
 who appeared were a company of buffoons ; after them four 
 janissaries, carrying silver maces ; then the male Mends, bear- 
 ing colored lanterns and perfumed torches, raised on gilded 
 poles ; then the females, among whom I saw some beautiful 
 Madonna faces in the torchlight ; and finally the bride herself, 
 covered from head to foot with a veil of cloth of gold, and 
 urged along by two maidens : for it is the etiquette of such 
 occasions that the bride sliould resist being taken, and must be 
 forced every step of the way, so that she is frequently three 
 hours in going the distance of a mile. We watched the pro- 
 cession a long time, winding away through the streets — a Ijine 
 
RffiE AROUND THE CITY. 211 
 
 of torctes, and songs, and incense, and noisy jubilee — under 
 the sweet starlit heaven. 
 
 The other evening, Signer di Picciotto mounted us from his 
 fine Arabian stud, and we rode around the city, outside of the 
 suburbs. The sun was low, and a pale yellow lustre touched 
 the clusters of minarets that rose out of the stately masses of 
 buildings, and the bare, chalky hills to the north. After leav- 
 ing the gardens on the banks of the Koweik, we came upon a 
 dreary waste of ruins, among which the antiquarian finds 
 traces of the ancient Aleppo of the Greeks, the MongoKan con- 
 querors of the Middle Ages, and the Saracens who succeeded 
 them. There are many mosques and tombs, which were once 
 imposing specimens of Saracenic art ; but now, split and shivered 
 by wars and earthquakes, are slowly tumbling into utter decay. 
 On the south-eastern side of the city, its chalk foundations 
 have been hollowed into vast, arched caverns, which extend 
 deep into the earth. PiUars have been left at regular inter- 
 vals, to support the masses above, and their huge, dim laby- 
 rinths resemble the crypts of some great cathedral. They are 
 now used as rope-walks, and filled with cheerful workmen. 
 
 Our last excursion was to a country-house of Signor di Pic- 
 ciotto, in the Gardens of Babala, about four miles from Aleppo. 
 We set out in the afternoon on our Arabians, with our host's 
 son on a large white donkey of the Baghdad breed. Passing 
 the Turkish cemetery, where we stopped to view the tomb of 
 General Bern, we loosened rein and sped away at full gallop 
 over the hot, white hills. In dashing down a stony rise, the 
 ambitious doEkey, who was doing his best to keep np with the 
 horses, fell, hurling Master Picciotto over his head. The boy 
 was bruised a little, but set hia teeth together and showed no 
 
212 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 sign of pain, mounted again, and followed us. The Gardens of 
 Babala are a wilderness of fruit-trees, like those of Damascus. 
 Signer P.'s country-house is buried in a wild grove of apricot, 
 fig, orange, and pomegranate-teees. A large marble tank, in 
 front of the open, arched liwan, supplies it with water. We 
 mounted to the flat roof, and watched the sunset fade from the 
 beautiful landscape. Beyond the bowers of dazzling greenness 
 which surrounded us, stretched the wide, gray hills ; the mina- 
 rets of Aleppo, and the walls of its castled mount shone rosily 
 in the last rays of the sun ; an old palace of the Pashas, with 
 the long, low barracks of the soldiery, crowned the top of a 
 hill to the north ; dark, spiry cypresses betrayed the place of 
 tombs ; and, to the west, beyond the bare red peak of Mount 
 St. Simon, rose the faint blue outline of Giaour Dagh, whose 
 mural chain divides Syria from the plains of CUicia. As the 
 twilight deepened over the scene, there came a long, melodious 
 cry of passion and of sorrow from the heart of a starry-flowered 
 pomegranate tree in the garden. Other voices answered it 
 from the gardens around, until not one, but fifty nightingales 
 charmed the repose of the hour. They vied with each other in 
 t£eir bursts of passionate music. Each strain soared over the 
 last, or united with others, near and "far, in a chorus of the 
 divinest pathos — an expression of sweet, unutterable, unquench- 
 able longing. It was an ecstasy, yet a pain, to listen. 
 "Away 1" said Jean Paxil to Music : " thou tellest me of that 
 which I have not, and never can have — ^which I forever seek, 
 and never find 1" 
 
 But space fails me to describe half the incidents of our stay 
 in Aleppo. There are two things peculiar to the city, how- 
 ever, which I must not omit mentioning. One is the Aleppo 
 
THE ALEPPO BUTTON — CATS. 213 
 
 Button, a singular ulcer, which attacks every person born in 
 the city, and every stranger who spends more than a month 
 there. It can ndther be prevented nor cured, and always lasts 
 for a year. The inhabitants alniost invariably have it on the 
 face — either on the cheek, forehead, or tip of the nose — where 
 it often leaves an indelible and disfiguring scar. Strangers, on 
 the contrary, have it on one of the joints, either the elbow, 
 wrist, knee, or ankle. So strictly is its visitation confined to 
 the city proper, that in none of the neighboring villages, nor 
 even in a distant suburb, is it known. Physicians have vainly 
 attempted to prevent it by inoculation, and are at a loss to 
 what cause to ascribe it. We are liable to have it, even after 
 five days' stay ; but I hope it will postpone its appearance 
 until after I reach home. 
 
 The other remarkable thing here is the Hospital for Cats. 
 This was founded long ago by a rich, cat-loving Mussulman, 
 and is one of the best endowed institutions in the city. An 
 old mosque is appropriated to the purpose, under the charge 
 of several directors ; and here sick cats are nursed, homeless 
 cats find shelter, and decrepit cats gratefully purr away their 
 declining years. The whole category embraces several hundreds, 
 and it is quite a sight to behold the court, the corridors, and 
 terraces of the mosque swarming with them. Here, one with 
 a bruised limb is receiving a cataplasm ; there, a cataleptic 
 patient is tenderly cared for ; and so on, through the long con- 
 catenation of feline diseases. Aleppo, moreover, rejoices in a 
 greater number of cats than even Jerusalem. At a rough 
 guess, I should thus state the population of the city ; Turks 
 and Arabs, ^0,000; Christians of all denominations, 15,0Q0 ■ 
 Jews, 10,000 ; 3ogs, 12,000 ; and cats, 8,000. 
 
214 THE LANDS OF THE SABACKN. 
 
 Among other persons whom I have met here, is Ferhat 
 Pasha, formerly General Stein, Hungarian Minister of War, 
 and Grovernor of Transylvania. He accepted Moslemism with 
 Bern and others, and now rejoices in his circumcision and 1,000 
 piastres a month. He is a fat, companionable sort of man, 
 who, by his own confession, never labored very zealously for the 
 independence of Hungary, being an Austrian by birth. He 
 conversed with me for several hours on the scenes in which he 
 had participated, and attributed the failure of the Hungarians 
 to the want of material means. General Bern, who died here, 
 is spoken of with the utmost respect, both by Turks and Chris- 
 tians. The former have honored him with a large tomb, oi 
 mausoleum, covered with a dome. 
 
 But I must close, leaving half unsaid. Suffice it to say 
 that no Oriental city has interested me so profoundly as Aleppo, 
 and in none have I received such universal and cordial hospi- 
 tality. We leave to-morrow for Asia Minor, having engaged 
 men and horses for the whole route to Constantinople. 
 
AN INAUSPICIOUS DEPARTUKE. 21ft 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 THROUGH THE SYEIAN GATES. 
 
 An Inauspicious Departure — The Ruined Oharch of St. Simon— Tlie Plain of AntiocIi->A 
 Turcoman Encampment — Climbing Akma Bagh — The Syrian Gates — Scanderoon — An 
 American Captahi— Revolt of the Koords— TVe take a Guard— The Field of Issue— 
 The Robber-Chief, Kutchuk Ali— A Deserted Town— A Land of Gardens. 
 
 " Mountains, on whose barren breast 
 ^The lab'ring clouds do often rest." 
 
 MiLTOK. 
 
 IH QcABAKTiNE (Adana, Asia Minor), Tuesday, Jime IB, 1852. 
 
 We left Aleppo on the morning of the 9th, under circumstances 
 not the most promising for the harmony of our journey. We 
 had engaged horses and baggage-mules from the capidji, or 
 chief of the muleteers, and in order to be certain of having 
 animals that would not break down on the way, made a par- 
 ticular selection from a number that were brought us. When 
 about leaving the city, however, we discovered that one of the 
 horses had been changed. Signer di Picciotto, who accompa- 
 nied us past the Custom-House barriers, immediately dispatched 
 the delinquent muleteer to bring back the true horse, and the 
 latter made a farce of trying to find him, leading the Consul 
 anii the capidji (who, I believe, was at the bottom of the 
 cheat) a wild-goose chase ovei- the hills around Aleppo, where 
 of course, the animal was not to be seen. When, at length, 
 
210 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 we had waited three hours, and had wandered about four miles 
 from the city, we gave up the search, took leave of the Consul 
 and went on with the new horse. Our proper plan would have 
 been to pitch the tent and refuse to move till the matter was 
 settled. The animal, as we discovered during the first day's 
 journey, was hopelessly lame, and we only added to the diffi- 
 culty by taking him. 
 
 We rode westward all day over barren and stony hills, 
 meeting with abundant traces of the power and prosperity of 
 this region during the times of the Greek Emperors. The 
 devastation wrought by earthquakes has been terrible ; there 
 is scarcely a wall or arch standing, which does not bear marks 
 of having been violently shaken. The walls inclosing the fig- 
 orchards near the villages contain many s^es with Greek 
 inscriptions, and fragments of cornices. "We encamped the 
 first night on the plain at the foot of Mount St. Simon, and 
 not far from the ruins of the celebrated Church of the same 
 name. The building stands in a stony wilderness at the foot 
 of the mountain. It is about a hundred feet long and thirty 
 in height, with two lofty square towers in front. The pave- 
 ment of the interior is entirely concealed by the masses of 
 pillars, capitals, and hewn blocks that lie heaped upon it. The 
 windows, which are of the tall, narrow, arched form, common 
 in Byzantine Churches, have a common moulding which falls 
 like a mantle over and between them. The general effect of 
 the Church is very fine, though there is much inelegance in the 
 sculptured details. At the extremity is a half-dome of massive 
 stone, over the place of the altar, and just in front of this for- 
 merly stood the pedestal whereon, according to tradition, 
 St, Simeon Stylites commenced his pillar-life. I found a recent 
 
THE PLAIN OF ANTIOCH. 21t 
 
 excavation at the spot, but no pedestal, which has probably 
 been carried off by the Greek monks. Beside the Church 
 stands a large building, with an upper and lower balcony, sup- 
 ported by square stone pillars, around three sides. There is 
 also a paved court-yard, a large cistern cut in the rock and 
 numerous out-buildings, all going to confirm the supposition of 
 its having been a monastery. The main building is three 
 stories high, with pointed gables, and bears a strong resem- 
 blance to an American summer hotel, with verandas. Several 
 ancient fig and walnut trees are growing among the ruins, and 
 add to their picturesque appearance. 
 
 The next day we crossed a broad chain of hills to the Plain 
 of Antioch, which we reached near its northern extremity. In 
 one of the valleys through which the road lay, we saw a num- 
 ber of hot sulphur springs," some of them of a considerable 
 volume of water. Not far from them was a beautiful fountain 
 of fresh and'cold water gushing from the foot of a high rock. 
 Soon after reaching the plain, we crossed the stream of Kara 
 Su, which feeds the Lake of Antioch. This part of the plain 
 is low and swampy, and the streams are literally alive with fish. 
 While passing over the bridge I saw many hundreds, from one 
 to two feet in length. We wandered through the marshy 
 meadows for two or three hours, and towards sunset reached a 
 Turcoman encampment, where the ground was dry enough to 
 pitch our tents. The rude tribe received us hospitably, and 
 sent us milk and cheese in abundance. I visited the tent of the 
 Shekh, who was very courteous, but as he knew no language 
 but Turkish, our conversation was restricted to signs. The 
 tent was of camePs-hair cloth, spacious, and open at the sides. 
 A rug was spread for me, and the Shekh's wife brought me a 
 
 10 
 
218 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 pipe of tolerable tobacco. The household were seated upon 
 the ground, chatting pleasantly with one another, and appa- 
 rently not in the least disturbed by my presence. One of the 
 Shekh's sons, who was deaf and damB, came and sat before me, 
 and described by very expressive signs the character of the 
 road to Scanderoon. He gave me to understand that there 
 were robbers in the mountains, with many grim gestures 
 descriptive of stabbing and firing muskets. 
 
 The mosquitoes were so thick during the night that we were 
 obliged to fill the tent with smoke in order to sleep. When 
 morning came, we fancied there would be a relief for us, but 
 it only brought a worse pest, in the shape of swarms of black 
 gnats, similar to those which so tormented me in Nubia. I 
 know of no infliction so terrible as these gnats, which you can- 
 not drive away, and v^ich assail ears, eyes, and nostrils in 
 such quantities that you become mad and desperate in your 
 efforts to eject them. Through glens filled with oleander, we 
 ascended the first slopes of Akma Dagh, the mountain range 
 whicb divides the Gulf of Scanderoon from the Plain of 
 Antioch. Then, passing a natural terrace, covered with 
 groves of oak, our road took the mountain side, climbing 
 upwards in the shadow of pine and wild olive trees, and between 
 banks of blooming lavender and myrtle. We saw two or 
 three companies of armed guards, stationed by the road-side, 
 for the mountain is infested with robbers, and a caravan had 
 been plundered only three days before. The view, looking 
 backward, took in the whole plain, with the Lake of Antioch 
 glittering in the centre, the valley of the Orontes in the south, 
 and the lofty cone of Djebel Okrab far to the west. As 
 we approached the summit, violent gusts of wind blew through 
 
THE SYRIAN GATES. 219 
 
 the pass with such force as almost to overturn our horses. 
 Here the road from Antioch joins that from Aleppo, and both 
 for some distance retain the ancient pavement. 
 
 From the western side we saw the sea once more, and went 
 down through the Pyla Syrice, or Syrian Gates, as this defile 
 was called by the Romans. It is very narrow and rugged, 
 with an abrupt descent. In an hour from the summit we 
 came upon an aqueduct of a triple row of arches, crossing the 
 gorge. It is still used to carry water to the town of Beilan, 
 which hangs over the mouth of the pass, half a mile below. 
 This is one of the most picturesque spots in Syria. The houses 
 cling to the sides and cluster on the summits of precipitous 
 crags, and every shelf of soil, every crevice where a tree 
 can thrust its roots, upholds a mass of brilliant vegetation. 
 Water is the life of the place. It gushes into the street from 
 exhaustless fountains ; it trickles from the terraces in showers 
 of misty drops ; it tumbles into the gorge in sparkling streams ; 
 and everywhere it nourishes a life as bright and beautiful 
 as its own. The fruit trees are of enormous size, and the 
 crags are curtained with a magnificent drapery of vines. This 
 green' gateway opens suddenly upon another, cut through 
 a glittering mass of micaceous rock, whence one looks down on 
 the town and Gulf of Scanderoon, the coast of Karamania 
 beyond, and the distant snows of the Taurus. We descended 
 through groves of pine and oak, and in three hours mare 
 reached the shore. 
 
 Scanderoon is the most unhealthy place on the Syrian Coast, 
 owing to the malaria from a marsh behind it. The inhabitants 
 are a wretched palUd set, who are visited every year with 
 devastating fevers. The marsh was partly drained some forty 
 
220 THE LANDS OP THE SAEACEN. 
 
 years ago by the Turkish government, and a few thousand 
 dollars would be sufficient to remove it entirely, and make the 
 place — which is of some importance as the seaport of Aleppo — 
 healthy and habitable. At present, there are not five hundred 
 inhabitants, and half of these consist of the Turkish garrison 
 and the persons attached to the different Vice-Consulates. 
 The streets are depositories of filth, and pools of stagnant 
 water, on all sides, exhale the most fetid odors. Near the 
 town are the ruins of a castle built by Godfrey of Bouillon. 
 We marched directly down to the searshore, and pitched our 
 tent close beside the waves, as the place most free from mala- 
 ria. There were a dozen vessels at anchor in the road, and 
 one of them proved to be the American bark Columbia, Capt. 
 Taylor. We took a skiff and went on board, where we were 
 cordially welcomed by the mate. In the evening, the captain 
 came to our tent, quite surprised to find two wandering Ameri- 
 cans in such d lonely corner of the world. Soon afterwards, 
 with true seaman-like generosity, he returned, bringing a jar 
 of fine Spanish olives and a large bottle of pickles, which he 
 insisted on adding to our supplies. The olives have the 
 choicest Andalusian flavor, and the pickles lose none ot their 
 relish from having been put up in New York. 
 
 The road from Scanderoon to this place lies mostly along 
 the shore of the gulf, at the foot of Akma Dagh, and is 
 reckoned dangerous on account of the marauding bands of 
 Koords who infest the mountains. These people, like the 
 Druses, have rebelled against the conscription, and will proba- 
 bly hold their ground with equal success, though the Turks 
 talk loudly of invading their strongholds. Two weeks ago, 
 the post was robbed, about ten miles from Scanderoon, and a 
 
WE TAKE A GUARD. 221 
 
 government vessel, now lying at anchor in the bay, opened a 
 cannonade on the plunderers, before they could be secured. 
 In consequence of the warnings of_danger in everybody's 
 mouth, we decided to take an escort, and therefore waited 
 upon the commander of the forces, with the firman of the 
 Pasha of Aleppo. A convoy of two soldiers was at once 
 promised us ; and at sunrise, next morning, they, took the lead 
 of our caravan. 
 
 In order to appear more formidable, in case we should meet 
 with robbers, we put on our Frank pantaloons, which had no 
 other effect than to make the heat more intolerable. But we 
 formed rather a fierce cavalcade, six armed men in all. Our 
 road followed the shore of the bay, having a narrow, uninha- 
 bited flat, covered with thickets of myrtle and mastic, between 
 us and the mountains. The two soldiers, more valiant than 
 •the guard of Banias, rode in advance, and showed no signs of 
 fear as we approached the suspicious places. The morning 
 was delightfully clear, and the snow-crowned range of Taurus 
 shone through the soft vapors hanging over the gulf. In one 
 place^ we skirted the shore for some distance, under a bank 
 twenty feet in height, and so completely mantled with shrub- 
 bery, that a small army might have hidden in it. There were 
 gulleys at intervals, opening suddenly on our path, and we 
 looked up them, expecting every moment to see the gleam of a 
 Koordish gun-barrel, or a Turcoman spear, above the tops of 
 the myrtles. 
 
 Crossing a promontory which makes out from the moun- 
 tains, we came upon the renowned plain of Issus, where Darius 
 lost his kingdom to Alexander. On a low cliff overhanging 
 the sea, there are the remains of a single tower of gray stOne. 
 
222 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 The people in Scanderoon call it " Jonah's Pillar," and say 
 that it marks the spot where the Ninevite was cast ashore by 
 the whale. [This makes three places on the Syrian coast 
 where Jonah was vomited forth.] The plain of Issus is from 
 two to three miles long, but not more than half a mile wide. 
 It is traversed by a little river, supposed to be the Pinarus, 
 which comes down through a tremendous cleft in the Akma 
 Dagh. The ground seems too small for the battle-field of such 
 armies as were engaged on the occasion. It is bounded on the 
 north by a low hill, separating it from the plain of Baias, and 
 it is possible that Alexander may have made choice of this 
 position, leaving the unwieldy forces of Darius to attack him 
 from the plain. His advantage would be greater, on account 
 of the long, narrow form of the ground, which would prevent 
 him from being engaged with more than a small portion of the 
 Persian army, at one time. The plain is now roseate with, 
 blooming oleanders, but almost entirely uncultivated. About 
 midway there are the remains of an ancient quay jutting into 
 the sea. * 
 
 Soon after leaving the field of Issus, we reached the town 
 of Baias, which is pleasantly situated on the shore, at the 
 mouth of a river whose course through the plain is marked 
 with rows of tall poplar trees. The walls of the town, and the 
 white dome and minaret of its mosque, rose dazzlingly against 
 the dark blue of the sea, and the purple stretch of the moun- 
 tains of Karamania. A single palm lifted its crest in the fore- 
 ground. We dismounted for breakfast under the shade of an 
 old bridge which crosses the river. It was a charming spot, 
 the banks above and below being overhung with oleander, 
 white rose, honeysuckle and clematis. The two guardsmen 
 
THE ROBBER CHIEF. 223 
 
 fimshed the remaining half of our Turcoman cheese, and almost 
 exhausted our supply of bread. I gave one of them a cigar, 
 which he was at a loss how to smoke, until our muleteer 
 showed him. , 
 
 Baias was celebrated fifty years ago, as the residence of the 
 robber chief, Kutchuk Ali, who, for a long time, braved the 
 authority of the Porte itself. He was in the habit of levying 
 a yearly tribute on the caravan to Mecca, and the better to 
 enforce his claims, often suspended two or three of his cap- 
 tives at the gates of the town, a day or two before the caravan 
 arrived. Several expeditions were sent against him, but he 
 always succeeded in bribing the commanders, who, on their 
 return to Constantinople, made such representations that 
 Kutchuk Ali, instead of being punished, received one dignity 
 after another, until finally he attained the rank of a Pasha of 
 two tails. This emboldened him to commit enormities too 
 great to be overlooked, and in 1812 Baias was taken, and the 
 atrocious nest of land-pirates broken upL 
 
 I knew that the town had been sacked on this occasion, but 
 was not prepared to find such a complete picture of desolation. 
 The place is surrounded with a substantial wall, with two gate- 
 ways, on the north and south. A bazaar, covered with a lofty 
 vaulted roof of stone, runs directly through from gate to gate ; 
 and there was still a smell of spices in the air, on entering 
 The massive shops on either hand, with their open doors, 
 invited possession, and might readily be made habitable again. 
 The great iron gates leadmg from the bazaar into the khans 
 and courts, still swing on their rusty hinges. We rode into 
 the court of the mosque, which is surrounded with a light and 
 elegant corridor, supported by pillars. The grass has as yet 
 
224 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEW. 
 
 but partially invaded the marble pavement, and a stone drink- 
 ing-trough still stands in the centre. I urged my horse up the 
 steps and into the door of the mosque. It is in the form of 
 a Greek cross, with a dome in the centre, resting on four very 
 elegant pointed arches. There is an elaborately gilded and 
 painted gallery of wood over the entrance, and the pulpit 
 opposite is as well preserved as if the mollah had just left it. 
 Out of the mosque we passed into a second court, and then 
 over a narrow bridge into the fortress. The moat is perfect, 
 and the walls as complete as if just erected. Only the bottom 
 is dry, and now covered with a thicket of wild pomegranate 
 trees. The heavy iron doors of the fortress swung half open, 
 as we entered unchallenged. The interior is almost entire, 
 and some of the cannon still lie buried in the springing grass. 
 The plan of the little town, which appears to have been all 
 built at one time, is most admirable. The walls of circuit, 
 including the fortress, cannot be more than 300 yards square, 
 and yet none of the characteristics of a large Oriental city are 
 omitted. 
 
 Leaving Baias, we travelled northward, over a waste, 
 though fertile plain. The mountains on our right made 
 a grand appearance, with their feet mantled in myrtle, and their 
 tops plumed with pine. They rise from the sea with a long, 
 bold sweep, but each peak falls off in a precipice on the oppo- 
 site side; as if the chain were the barrier of the world and 
 there was nothing but space beyond. In the afternoon we 
 left the plain for a belt of glorious garden land, made by 
 streams that came down from the mountains. We entered a 
 lane embowered in pomegranate, white rose, clematis, and 
 other flowering vines and shrubs, and overarched by superb 
 
A LAND OF GARDENS. 225 
 
 plane, lime, and beech trees, chained together with giant grape 
 vines. On either side were fields of ripe wheat and bar- 
 ley, mulberry orchards and groves of fruit trees, under the 
 shade of which the Turkish families sat or slept during the 
 hot hours of the day. Birds sang in the boughs, and the 
 gurgling of water made a cool undertone to their music. Out 
 of fairyland where shall I see again such lovely bowers ? We 
 were glad when the soldiers announced that it was necessary 
 to encamp there ; as we should find no other habitations for 
 more than twenty miles. 
 
 Our tent was pitched under a grand sycamore, beside a 
 swift mountain stream which almost made the circuit of onr 
 camp. Beyond the tops of the elm, beech, and fig gtoves, we 
 saw the picturesque green summits of the lower ranges of 
 Giaour Dagh, in the north-east, while over the southern 
 meadows a golden gleam of sunshine lay upon the Gulf of 
 Scanderoon. The village near us was Chaya, where there is a 
 military station. The guards we had brought from Scan- 
 deroon here left us ; but the commanding officer advised us to 
 take others on the morrow, as the road was stil considered 
 unsafe. 
 
 10* 
 
226 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 adana' and. taesus. 
 
 The Black Gate— TLe Plain of Cilicia— A Koord Tillage— Missis— Oillcian Scenery— 
 Arrival at Adana— Three days in Quarantine— We reoeiTe Pratique— A Landscape — 
 The Plain of Tarsus— The River Cydnus — A Vision of Cleopatra — Tarsus and it« 
 Environs — The JDuvjUdash — The Moon of Ramazan. 
 
 " Paul said, I am a man which am a Jew of Tarsus^ a city in Oilicia, a citizen of no 
 mean city,"— Acts, xii. 89. 
 
 Khak oh Mt. Tausus, Salmrday, Jime 19, 13S2. 
 
 We left our camp at Chaya at dawn, with an escort of three 
 soldiers, which we borrowed from the guard stationed at that 
 place. The path led along the shore, through clumps of 
 myrtle beaten inland by the wind, and rounded as smoothly as 
 if they had been clipped by a gardener's shears. As we 
 approached the head of the gulf, the peaked summits of Giaour 
 Dagh, 10,000 feet in height, appeared in the north-east. The 
 streams we forded swarmed with immense trout. A brown 
 hedgehog ran across our road, but when I touched him with 
 the end of my pipe, rolled himself into an impervious ball of 
 prickles. Soon after turning the head of the gulf, the road 
 swerved off to the west, and entered a narrow pass, between 
 hills covered with thick copse-wood. Here we came upon an 
 ancient gateway of black lava stone, which bears marks of 
 
THE PLAIN OP CILICIA. 221 
 
 great antiquity. It is now called Kara, Eapit,, the " Blaek 
 Gate," and some suppose it to have been one of the ancient 
 gates of Cilicia. 
 
 Beyond this, our road led over high, grassy hills, without a 
 sign of human habitation, to the ruined khan of Koord Koolak. 
 We dismounted and unloaded our baggage in the spacious 
 stone archway, and drove our beasts into the dark, vaulted 
 halls behind. The building was originally intended for a 
 magazine of supplies, and from the ruined mosque near it, I 
 suspect it was formerly one of the caravan stations for the 
 pilgrims from Constantinople to Mecca. The weather was 
 intensely hot and sultry, and our animals were almost crazy 
 from the attacks of a large yellow gad-fly. After the noonday 
 heat was over we descended to the first Cilician plain, which is 
 bounded on the west by the range of Durdun Dagh. As we 
 had now passed the most dangerous part of the road, we dis- 
 missed the three soldiers and took but a single man with us. 
 The entire plain is covered with wild fennel, six to eight feet in 
 height, and literally blazing with its bloomy yellow tops 
 Riding through it, I could barely look over them, and far and 
 wide, on all sides, spread a golden sea, out of which the long 
 violet hiEs rose with the loveliest effect. Brown, shining 
 serpents, from four to six feet in length, frequently slid across 
 our path. The plain, which must be sixty miles in circumfe- 
 rence, is wholly uncultivated, though no land could possibly be 
 richer. 
 
 Out of the region of fennel we passed into one of red and 
 white clover, timothy grass and wild oats. The thistles were 
 so large as to resemble young pahn-trees, and the salsify of our 
 gardens grew rank and wild. At length we dipped into the 
 
228 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 evening shadow of Durdun Dagh, and reached, the village of 
 Koord Keui, on Ms lower slope. As there was no place for 
 our tent on the rank grass of the plain or the steep side of the 
 hill, we took forcible possession of the winnowing-floor, a flat 
 terrace built up under two sycamores, and still covered with 
 the chaff of the last threshing. The Koords took the whole 
 thing as a matter of course, and even brought ns a felt carpet 
 to rest upon. They came and seated themselves around us, 
 chatting sociablyj while we lay in the tent-door, smoking the 
 pipe of refreshment. The view over the wide golden plain, 
 atid the hills beyond, to the distant, snow-tipped peaks of 
 Akma Dagh, was superb, as the shadow of the mountain behind 
 us slowly lengthened over it, "blotting out the mellow lights of 
 sunset. There were many fragments of pillars and capitals of 
 white marble built up in the houses, showing that they occu- 
 pied the site of some ancient village or temple. 
 
 The next morning, we crossed Durdun Dagh, and entered 
 the great plain of Cilicia. The range, after we had passed it, 
 presented a grand, bold, broken outline, blue in the morning 
 vapor, and wreathed with shifting belts of cloud. A stately 
 castle, called the Palace of Serpents, on the summit of an 
 isolated peak to the north, stood out clear and high, in the 
 midst of a circle of fog, like a phantom picture of the air. The 
 River Jyhoon, the ancient Pyramus, which rises on the borders 
 of Armenia, sweeps the western base of the mountains. It is 
 a larger stream than the Orontes, with a deep, rapid current, 
 flowing at the bottom "of a bed lower than the level of the 
 plain. In three hours, we reached Missis, the ancient Mop- 
 suestia, on the right bank of the river. There are extensive 
 ruins on the left bank, which were probably those of the for- 
 
ARRIVAL AT ADANA. 
 
 mer city. The soU for some distance around is scattered with 
 broken pillars, capitals, and hewn stones. The ancient bridge 
 still crosses the river, but the central arch having been broken 
 away, is replaced with a wooden platform. The modern town 
 is a forlorn place, and all the glorious plain around it is uncul- 
 tivated. The view over this plain was magnificent : unbounded 
 towards the sea, but on the north girdled by the sublime range 
 of Taurus, whose great snow-fields gleamed in the sun. In the 
 afternoon, we reached the old bridge over the Jyhoon, at 
 Adana. The eastern bank is occupied with the graves of the 
 former inhabitants, and there are at least fifteen acres of tomb- 
 stones, as thickly planted as the graves can be dug. The fields 
 of wheat and barley along the river are very rich, and at pre- 
 sent the natives are busily occupied in drawing the sheaves on 
 large sleds to tbe open threshing-floors. 
 
 The city is bmlt over a low eminence, and its four tall mina- 
 rets, with a number of palm-trees rising from the mass of 
 brown brick walls, reminded me of Egypt. At the end of the 
 bridge, we were met by one of the Quarantine officers, who 
 preceded us, taking care that we touched nobody in the streets, 
 to the Quarantine building. This land quarantine, between 
 ■ Syria and Asia Minor, when the former country is free from 
 any epidemic, seems a mos.t absurd thing. We were detained 
 at Adana three days and a half, to be purified, before proceed- 
 ing further. Lately, the whole town was placed in quarantine 
 for five days, because a Turkish Bey, who lives near Baias, 
 entered the gates without being noticed, and was found in the 
 bazaars. The Quarantine building was once a palace of the 
 Pashas of Adana, but is now in a half-ruined condition. The 
 rooms are large and airy, and there is a spacious open divan, 
 
230 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 which affords ample shade and a cool breeze throughout the 
 whole day. Fortunately for us, there were only three persons 
 in Quarantine, who occupied a room distant from ours. The 
 Inspector was a very obliging person, and procured us a table 
 and two chairs. The only table to ba had in the whole place — 
 a town of 15,000 inhabitants — ^belonged to an Italian merchant, 
 who kindly gave it for our use. We employed a messenger to 
 purchase provisions in the bazaars ; and our days passed 
 quietly in writing, smoking, and gazing indolently from our 
 windows upon the flowery plains beyond the town. Our nights, 
 however, were tormented by small white gnats, which stung us 
 unmercifully. The physician of Quarantine, Dr. Spagnolo, is a 
 Venetian refugee, and formerly editor of La Lega Italiana, a 
 paper published in Tenice during the revolution. He informed 
 us that, except the Princess Belgioioso, who passed through 
 Adana on her way to Jerusalem, we were the only travellers 
 he had seen for eleven months. 
 
 After three days and four nights of grateful, because invo- 
 luntary, indolence. Dr. Spagnolo gave us pratique, and we lost 
 no time in getting under weigh again. We were the only 
 occupants of Quarantine ; and as we moved out of the portal 
 of the old serai, at sunrise, no one was guarding it. The 
 Inspector and Mustapha, the messenger, took their back- 
 sheeshes with silent gratitude. The plain on the west side of 
 the town is well cultivated ; and as we rode along towards 
 Tarsus, I was charmed with the rich pastoral air of the 
 scenery. It was like one of the midland landscapes of Eng- 
 land, bathed in Southern sunshine. The beautiful level, 
 stretching away to the mountains, stood golden with the fields 
 of wheat which the reapers were cutting. It was no longer 
 
THE ROAD TO TARSUS. 281 
 
 bare, but dotted with orange groves, clumps of holly, and a 
 number of magnificent terebinth-trees, whose dark, rounded 
 masses of foliage remind one of the Northern oak. Cattle 
 were grazing in the stubble, and horses, almost buried under 
 loads of fresh grass, met us as they passed to the city. The 
 sheaves were drawn to the threshing-floor on sleds, and we 
 could see the husbandmen in the distance treading out and 
 winnowing the grain. Over these bright, busy scenes, rose 
 the lesser heights of the Taurus, and beyond them, mingled in 
 white clouds, the snows of the crowning range. 
 
 The road to Tarsus, which is eight hours distant, lies over an 
 unbroken plain. Towards the sea, there are two tumuli, resem- 
 bling those on the plains east of Antioch. Stone wells, with 
 troughs for watering horses, occur at intervale of three or four 
 miles ; but there is little cultivation after leaving the vicinity 
 of Adana. The sun poured down an intense summer heat, and 
 hundreds of large gad-flies, swarming around us, drove the 
 horses wild with their stings. Towards noon, we stopped 
 at a little village for breakfast. We took possession of a 
 shop, which the good-natureA merchant offered us, and were 
 about to spread our provisions upon the counter, when the 
 gnats and mosquitoes fairly drove us away. We at once went 
 forward in search of a better place, which gave occasion to our 
 chief mukkairee, Hadji Youssuf, for a violent remonstrance. 
 The terms of the agreement at Aleppo gave the entire control 
 of the journey into our own hands, and the Hadji now sought 
 to violate it. He protested against our travelling more than 
 six hours a day, and conducted himself so insolently, that we 
 threatened to take him before the Pasha of Tarsus. This 
 silenced him for the time ; but we hate him so cordially since 
 
232 THE LANDS OF THK BABACEN. 
 
 then, that I foresee we shall have more trouble. In the after- 
 noon, a gust, sweeping along the sides of Tanrus, cooled the air 
 and afforded us a little relief. 
 
 By three o'clock we reached the River Cydnus, which is 
 bare of trees on its eastern side, but flows between banks 
 covered with grass and shrubs. It is still spanned by the 
 ancient bridge, and the mules now step in the hollow ruts worn 
 long ago by Roman and Byzantine chariot wheels. The stream 
 is not more than thirty yards broad, but has a very full and 
 rapid current of a bluish- white color, from the snows which feed 
 it. I rode down to the brink and drank a cup of the water. 
 It was exceedingly cold, and I do not wonder that a bath in it 
 should have killed the Emperor Barbarossa. From the top of 
 the bridge, there is a lovely view, down the stream, where it 
 washes a fringe of vrillows and heavy fruit-trees on its western 
 bank, and then winds away through the grassy plain, to the 
 sea. For once, my fancy ran parallel with the inspiration of the 
 scene. I could think of nothing but the galley of Cleopatra 
 slowly stemming the current of the stream, its silken sails filled 
 with the sea-breeze, its gilded oars keeping time to the flutes, 
 whose voluptuous melodies floated far out over the vernal 
 meadows. Tarsus was probably almost hidden then, as now, 
 by its gardens, except just where it touched the river ; and the 
 dazzling vision of the Egyptian Queen, as she came up con- 
 quering and to conquer, must have been all the more bewilder- 
 ing, from the .lovely bowers through which she sailed. 
 
 From the bridge an ancient road still leads to the old 
 Byzantine gate of Tarsus. Part of the town is encompassed 
 by a wall, built by rne tmiiph Haroun Al-Raschid, and there 
 is a ruined fortress which is attributed to. Sultan Bajazet. 
 
TAifsus. 233 
 
 Small streams, brought from the Cydnus, traverse the environs, 
 and, with such a fertile soil, the luxuriance of the gardens in 
 which the city lies buried is almost incredible. In our rambles 
 in search of a place to pitch the tent, we entered a superb 
 orange-orchard, the foliage of which made a perpetual twilight. 
 Many of the trunks were two feet in diameter. The houses 
 are mostly of one story, and the materials are almost wholly 
 borrowed from the ancient city. Pillars, capitals, fragments 
 of cornices and entablatures abound. I noticed here, as in 
 Adana, a. high wooden frame on the top of every house, raised 
 a few steps above the roof, and covered with light muslin, like 
 a portable bathing-house. Here the people put up their beds 
 in the evening, sleep, and come down to the roofs in the morn- 
 ing — an excellent plan for getting better air in these malarious 
 plains aud escaping from fleas and mosquitoes. In our search 
 for the Armenian Church, which is said to have been founded 
 by St. Paul ("Saul of Tarsus"), we came upon a mosque, 
 which had been originally a Christian Church, of Greek times. 
 From the top of a mound, whereupon stand the remains of an 
 ancient circular edifice, we obtained a fine view of the city and 
 plain of Tarsus. A few houses or clusters of houses stood 
 here and there like reefs amid the billowy green, and the mina- 
 rets — one of them with a nest of young storks on its very 
 summit — rose like the masts of sunken ships. Some palms 
 lifted their tufted heads from the gardens, beyond which the 
 great plain extended from the mountains to the sea. The 
 tumulus near Mersyn, the port of Tarsus, was plainly visible. 
 Two hours from Mersyn are the ruins of Pompeiopolis, the 
 name given by Pompey to the town of Soli, after his conquest 
 of the Cilician pirates. From Soli, on account of the bad 
 
234 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 Greek spoken by its inhabitants, came the term " solecism." 
 The ruins of Pompeiopolis consist of a theatre, temples, and a 
 number of houses, still in good preservation. The whole 
 coast, as far as Aleya, three hundred mUes west of this, is said 
 to abound with ruined cities, and I regret exceedingly that 
 time will not permit me to explore it. 
 
 WhUe searching for the antiquities about Tarsus, I accosted 
 a man in a Frank dress, who proved to be the Neapolitan 
 Consul. He told us that the most remarkable relic was the 
 Dvmktash (the Round Stone), and procured us a guide. It 
 lies in a garden near the city, and is certainly one of the most 
 remarkable monuments in the East. It consists of a square 
 inclosure of solid masonry, 350 feet long by 150 feet wide, the 
 walls of which are eighteen feet in thickness and twenty feet 
 high. It appears to have been originally a solid mass, without 
 entrance, but a passage has been broken in one place, and in 
 another there is a split or fissure, evidently produced by an 
 earthquake. The material is rough stone, brick and mortar. 
 Inside of the inclosure are two detached square masses of 
 masonry, of equal height, and probably eighty feet on a side, 
 without opening of any kind. One of them has been pierced 
 at the bottom, a steep passage leading to a pit or well, but the 
 sides of the passage thus broken indicate that the whole struc- 
 ture is one solid mass. It is generally supposed that they 
 were intended as tombs : but of whom ? There is no sign by 
 which they may be recognized, and, what is more singular, no 
 tradition concerning them. 
 
 The day we reached Tarsus was the first of the Turkish fast- 
 month of Ramazan, the inhabitants having seen the new moon 
 the night before. At Adana, where they did not keep such a 
 
THE MOON OP RAMAZAN. 236 
 
 close look-oat, tte fast had not commenced. During its con- 
 tinuance, which is from twenty-eight to twenty-nine days, no 
 Mussulman dares eat, drink, or smoke, from an hour before 
 sunrise till half an hour after sunset. The Mohanunedan 
 months are lunar, and each month makes the whole round of 
 the seasons, once in thirty-three years. When, therefore, the 
 Ramazan comes in midsummer, as at present, the fulfilment of 
 this fast is a great trial, even to the strongest and niSist devout. 
 Eighteen hours without meat or drink, and what is still worse 
 to a genuine Turk, without a pipe, is a rigid test of faith. 
 The rich do the best they can to avoid it, by feasting all night 
 and sleeping all day, but the poor, who must perform their 
 daily avocations, as usual, suffer exceedingly. In walking 
 through Tarsus I saw many wretched faces in the bazaars, and 
 the guide who accompanied us had a painfully famished air. 
 Fortunately the Koran expressly permits invalids, children, and 
 travellers to disregard the fast, so that although we eat and 
 drink when we like, we are none the less looked upon as good 
 Mussulmans. About dark a gun is fired and a rocket sent up 
 from the mosque, announcing the termination of the day's fast. 
 The meals are already prepared, the pipes filled, the coffee 
 smokes in the finjans, and the echoes have not died away nor 
 the last sparks of the rocket become extinct, before half the 
 inhabitants are satisfying their hunger, thirst and smoke-lust. 
 
 We left Tarsus this morning, and are now encamped among 
 the pines of Mount Taurus. The last flush of sunset is fading 
 from his eternal snows, and I drop my pen to enjoy the silence 
 of twilight in this mountain solitude. 
 
236 THE LANDS OP THE SAKAOIN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE PASS OF MOUNT TAURUS. 
 
 We enter the Tanrua— Turcomans— Forest Scenery— the Palace of Pan— Khan Mezar- 
 luk— Morning among the Mountains— The Gorge of the Oydnus- The Crag of the 
 Fortress— The OUician Gate — Deserted Forts- A Sublime Landscape— The Gorge of the 
 Sihoon — The Second Gate — Oamp In the Defile — Sunrise — Journey up the Sihoon — A 
 Change of Scenery- A Pastoral Valley— Kold Eushla — A Deserted Shan — A Guest in 
 Ramazan— Flowers— The Plain of Karamanla- Barren Hills— The Town of Eregll - 
 The HacUl again, 
 
 " Lo 1 where the pass expands 
 Its stony Jaws, the abrupt mountain brealia, • 
 And seems, with its accumulated crags, 
 To overhang the world." Shsllit. 
 
 Eheciu, in Xaramania, Jime 22, 1353. 
 
 Striking our teut in the gardens of Tarsus, we again crossed 
 the Cydnus, and took a northern course across the plain. The 
 long line of Taurus rose before us, seemingly divided into four 
 successive ranges, the highest of which was folded in clouds ; 
 only the long streaks of snow, filling the ravines, being visible. 
 The outlines of these ranges were very fine, the waving line 
 of the summits cut here and there by precipitous gorges — the 
 gateways of rivers that came down to the plain. In about two 
 hours, we entered the lower hills. They are barren and stony, 
 with a white, chalky soil ; but the valleys were filled with 
 myrtle, oleander, and lauristinus in bloom, and lavender grew 
 
THE OLEANDER — ^TURCOMANS. 23T 
 
 in great profusion on the hill-sides. The flowers of the olean- 
 der gave out a delicate, almond-Mke fragrance, and grew in 
 such dense clusters as frequently to hide the foliage. I amused 
 myself with finding a derivation of the name of this beautiful 
 plant, which may answer until somebody discovers a better one. 
 Hero, when the corpse of her lover was cast ashore by the 
 waves, buried him under an oleander bush, where she was 
 accustomed to sit daily, and lament over his untimely fate. 
 Now, a foreign horticulturist, happening to pass by when the 
 shrub was in blossom, was much struck vrith its beauty, and 
 asked Hero what it was called. But she, absorbed in grief, 
 and thinking only of her lover, clasped her hands, and sighed 
 out : " Leander I Leander 1" which the horticulturist 
 immediately entered in his note-book as the name of the shrub ; 
 and by that name it is known, to the present time. 
 
 For two or three hours, the scenery was rather tame, .the 
 higher summits being obscured with a thunder-cloud. Towards 
 noon, however, we passed the first chain, and saw, across a 
 strip of rolling land intervening, the grand ramparts of the 
 second, looming dark and large under the clouds. A circular 
 watch-tower of white stone, standing on the summit of a pro- 
 montory at the mouth of a gorge on our right, flashed out 
 boldly against the storm. We stopped under an oak-tree to 
 take breakfast ; but there was no water ; and two Turks, who 
 were resting while their horses grazed in the meadow, told us 
 we should find a good spring half a mile farther. We ascended 
 a long slope, covered with wheat-fields, where numbers of Tur- 
 coman rea|)ers were busy at work, passed their black tents, 
 surrounded with droves of sheep and goats, and reached a rude 
 stone fountain of good water, where two companies of thess 
 
238 THE tANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 people had stopped to rest, on their way to the mountains. It 
 was the time of noon prayer, and they went through their 
 devotions with great solemnity. We nestled deep in a bed of 
 myrtles, while we breakfasted ;-for the sky was clouded, and the 
 wind blew cool and fresh from the region of rain above us. 
 Some of the Turcomans asked us for bread, and were very 
 grateful when we gave it to them. 
 
 In the afternoon, we came into a higher and wilder region, 
 where the road led through thickets of wild olive, holly, oak, 
 and lauristinus, with occasional groves of pine. What a joy I 
 felt in hearing, once more, the grand song of my favorite tree I 
 Our way was a woodland road ; a storm had passed over the 
 region in the morning ; the earth was still fresh and moist, and 
 there was an aromatic smell of. leaves in the air. We turned 
 westward into the entrance of a deep valley, over which hung 
 a perpendicular cliff of gray and red rock, fashioned by nature 
 so as to resemble a vast fortress, with windows, portals and 
 projecting bastions. Frangois displayed his knowledge of 
 mythology, by declaring it to be the Palace of Pan. While 
 we were carrying out the idea, by making chambers for the 
 Fauns and Nymphs in the basement story of the precipice, the 
 path wound around the shoulder of the mountain, and the glen 
 spread away before us, branching up into loftier ranges, dis- 
 closing through its gateway of cliffs, rising out of the steeps 
 of pine forest, a sublime vista of blue mountain peaks, climb- 
 ing to the topmost snows. It was a magnificent Alpine land- 
 scape, more glowing and rich than Switzerland, yet equalling it 
 in all the loftier characteristics of mountain sceneryT Another 
 and greater precipice towered over us on the right, and the 
 black eagles which had made their eyries in its niched and 
 
KHAN MEZAELUK. 23fl 
 
 caverned vaults, were wheeling around its crest. A branch of 
 the Cydnus foamed along the bottom of the gorge, and some 
 Turcoman boys were tending their herds on its banks. 
 
 Further up the glen, we found a fountain of delicious water, 
 beside the deserted Khan of Mezarluk, and there encamped 
 for the night. Our tent was pitched on the mountain side,' 
 near a fountain of the coolest, clearest and sweetest water I 
 have seen in all the East. There was perfect silence among 
 the mountains, and the place was as lonely as it was sublime. 
 The night was cool and fresh ; but I could not sleep until 
 towards morning. When I opened my belated eyes, the tall 
 peaks on the opposite Side of the glen were girdled below their 
 waists with the flood of a sparkling sunrise. The sky was 
 pure as crystal, except a soft white fleece that veiled the snowy 
 pinnacles of Taurus, folding and unfolding, rising and sinking, 
 as if to make their beauty still more attractive by the partial 
 concealment. The morning air was almost cold, but so pure 
 and bracing — so aromatic with the healthy breath of the pines — 
 that I took it down in the fullest possible draughts. 
 
 We rode up the glen, following the course of the Cydnus, 
 through scenery of the wildest and most romantic character. 
 The bases of the mountains were completely enveloped in 
 forests of pine, but their summits rose in precipitous crags, 
 many hundreds of feet in height, hanging above our very heads. 
 Even after the sun was five hours high, their shadows fell upon 
 us fiom the opposite side of the glen. Mixed with the pine 
 were occasional oaks, an undergrowth of hawthorn in bloom, 
 and shrubs covered with yellow and white flowers. Over these 
 the wild grape threw its rich festoons, filling the air with 
 exquisite fragrance. 
 
210 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 Ont of this glen, we passed into another, still narrower and 
 wilder. The road was the old Eoman way, and in tolerable 
 condition, though it had evidently not been mended for many 
 centuries. In half an hour, the pass opened, disclosing an 
 enormous peak in front of us, crowned with the ruins of an 
 ancient fortress of considerable extent. The position was 
 almost impregnable, the mountain dropping on one side into a 
 precipice five hundred feet in perpendicular height. Under 
 the cliffs of the loftiest ridge, there was a terrace planted with 
 walnut-trees : a charming little hamlet in the wilderness. Wild 
 sycamore-trees, with white trunks and bright green foliage, 
 shaded the foamy twists of the Cydnus, as it plunged down its 
 difficult bed. The pine thrust its roots into the naked preci- 
 pices, and from their summits hung out over the great abysses 
 below. I thought of (Enone's 
 
 -" tall, dark pines, that fringed the craggy ledge 
 
 High over the blue gorge, and all between 
 The snowy peak and snow-white cataract 
 Fostered the callow eaglet ;" 
 
 and certainly she had on Mount Ida no more beautiful trees 
 than these. 
 
 We had doubled the Crag of the Fortress, when the pass 
 closed before us, shut in by two immense precipices of sheer, 
 barren rock, more than a thousand feet in height. Vast frag- 
 ments, fallen from above, choked up the entrance, whence the 
 Cydnus, spouting forth in foam, leaped into the defile. The 
 ancient road was completely destroyed, but traces of it were 
 to be seen on the rocks, ten feet above the present bed of the 
 stream, and on the broken masses which had been hurled beloir. 
 
THE CILICIAN GATE. 241 
 
 The path wound with difficulty among these \iffecks, and then 
 merged into the stream itself, as we entered the gateway. A 
 violent wind blew in our faces as we rode through the strait, 
 which is not ten yards in breadth, while its walls rise to the 
 region of the clouds. In a few minutes we had traversed it, 
 and stood looking back on the enormous gap. There were 
 several Greek tablets cut in the rock above the old road, but 
 so defaced as to be illegible. This is undoubtedly the princi- 
 pal gate of the Taurus, and the pass through which the armies 
 of Cyrus and Alexander entered Cilicia. 
 
 Beyond the gate the mountains retreated, and we climbed 
 up a little dell, past two or three Turcoman houses, to the top 
 of a hill, whence opened a view of the principal range, now 
 close at hand. The mountains in front were clothed with dark 
 cedars to their very tops, and the snow-fields behind them 
 seemed dazdingly bright and near. Our course for several 
 miles now lay through a more open valley, drained by the 
 upper waters of the Cydnus. On two opposing terraces of 
 the mountain chains are two fortresses, built by Ibraham 
 Pasha, but now wholly deserted. They are large and well- 
 constructed works of stone, and surrounded by ruins of stables, 
 ovens, and the rude houses of the soldiery. Passing between 
 these, we ascended to the shelf -dividing the waters of the 
 Cydnus and the Sihoon. From the point where the slope 
 descends to the latter river, there opened before me one of the 
 most glorious landscapes I ever beheld. I stood at the 
 extremity of a long hollow or depression between thre two 
 ranges of the Taurus — ^not a valley, for it was divided by deep 
 cloven chasms, hemmed in by steeps overgrown with cedars. 
 On my right rose a sublime chain, soaring far out of the region 
 
 11 
 
242 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 of trees, and lifting its peaked summits of gray rock into the 
 sky. Another chain, nearly as lofty, but not so broken, nor 
 with such large, imposing features, overhung me on the left ; 
 .an& far in front, filling up the magnificent vista — filling up all 
 between the lower steeps, crowned with pme, and the round 
 white clouds hanging on the verge of heaven — ^were the shining 
 snows of the Taurus. Great God, how shall I describe the 
 grandeur of that view I How draw the wonderful outlines of 
 those mountains ! How paint the airy hue of violet-gray, the 
 soft white lights, the thousandfold pencillings of mellow shadow, 
 the height, the depth, the far-reaching vastness of the land- 
 scape I 
 
 In the middle distance, a great blue gorge passed transversely 
 across the two ranges and the region between. This, as I 
 rightly conjectured, was the bed of the Sihoon. Our road led 
 downward through groves of fragrant cedars, and we travelled 
 thus for two hours before reaching the river. Taking a north- 
 ward course up his banks, we reached the second of the Pyla 
 CilidcB before sunset. It is on a grander scale than the first 
 gate, though not so startling and violent in its features. The 
 bare walls on either side fall sheer to the water, and the road, 
 crossing the Sihoon by a lofty bridge of a single arch, is cut 
 along the face of the rock. • Near the bridge a subterranean 
 stream, almost as large as the river, bursts forth from the solid 
 heart of the mountain. On either side gigantic masses of rock, 
 with here and there a pine to adorn their sterility, tower to 
 the hetight of 6,000 feet, in some places almost perpendicular 
 from summit to base. They are worn and broken into all 
 fantastic forms. There are pyramids, towers, bastions, mina- 
 rets, and long, sharp spires, splintered and jagged as the tur- 
 
SUNEISE IN THE PASS. 243 
 
 rets of an iceberg. I hare seen higher mountains, bat I hare 
 never seen any which looked so high as these. We camped on 
 a narrow plot of ground, in the very heart of the tremendous 
 gorge. A soldier, passing along at dusk, told us that a mer- 
 chant and his servant were murdered in the same place last 
 winter, and advised us to keep watch. But we slept safely all 
 night, while the stars sparkled over the chasm, and slips of 
 misty cloud hung low on the thousand pinnacles of rock 
 
 When I awoke, the gorge lay in deep shadow ; but high up 
 on the western mountain, above the enormous black pyramids 
 that arose from the river, the topmost pinnacles of rock 
 sparkled like molten silver, in the full gush of sunrise. The 
 great mountain, blocking up the gorge behind us, was bathed 
 almost to its foot in the rays, and, seen through such a dark 
 vista, was glorified beyond all other mountains of Earth. The 
 air was piercingly cold and keen, and I could scarcely bear the 
 water of the Sihoon on my sun-inflamed face. There was a 
 little spring not far off, from which we obtained sufficient water 
 to drink, the river being too muddy. The spring was but a 
 thread oozing from the soil ; but the Hadji collected it in hand- 
 fuls, which he emptied into his water-skin, and then brought 
 to us. 
 
 The morning light gave a still finer effect to the manifold 
 forms of the mountains than that of the afternoon sun. The 
 soft gray hue of the rocks shone clearly against the cloudless 
 sky, fretted all over with the shadows thrown by their innu- 
 merable spires and jutting points, and by the natural arches 
 scooped out under the cliffs. After travelling less than an 
 hour, we passed the riven walls of the mighty gateway, and 
 rode again under the shade of pine forests. The height of the 
 
244 THE LANDS OF THE SARACES. 
 
 mountains now gradually dimmished, and their sides, covered 
 with pine and cedar, became less broken and abrupt. The 
 summits, nevertheless, stiU retained the game rocky spine, 
 shooting up into tall, smgle towers, or long lines of even para- 
 pets. Occasionally, through gaps between, we caught glimpses 
 of the snow-fields, dazzlingly high and white. 
 
 After travelling eight or nine miles, we emerged from the 
 pass, and left the Sihoon at a place called Chiftlik Elhan — a 
 stone building, with a small fort adjoining, wherein fifteen 
 splendid bronze cannon lay neglected on their broken and rot- 
 ting carriages. As we crossed the stone bridge over the river, 
 a valley opened suddenly on the left, disclosing the whole range 
 of the Taurus, which we now saw on its northern ^de, a vast 
 stretch of rocky spires, with sparkling snow-fields between, and 
 long ravines filled with snow, extending far down between the 
 dark blue cliffs and the dark green plumage of the cedars. 
 
 Immediately after passing the central chain of the Taurus, 
 the character of the scenery changed. The heights were 
 rounded, the rocky strata only appearing on the higher peaks, 
 and the slopes of loose soil were deeply cut and scarred by the 
 rains of ages. Both in appearance, especially in the scattered 
 growth of trees dotted over the dark red soil, and in their for- 
 mation, these mountains strongly resemble the middle ranges 
 of the Californian Sierra Nevada. We climbed a long, winding 
 glen, until we had attained a considerable height, when the 
 road reached a dividing ridge, giving us a view of a deep 
 valley, beyond which a chain of barren mountains rose to the 
 height of some five thousand feet. As we descended the rocky 
 path, a little caravan of asses and mules clambered up to meet 
 us, along the brinks of steep gulfs. The narrow strip of 
 
A PASTORAL VALLEY. 246 
 
 bottom land along the stream was planted with rye, now in 
 head, and rolling in silvery waves before the wind. 
 
 After our noonday halt, we went over the hills to another 
 stream, which came from the north-west. Its valley was 
 broader and greener than that we had left, and the hills inclos- 
 ing it had soft and undulating outlines. They were bare of 
 trees, but colored a pale green by their thin clothing of grass 
 and herbs. In this valley the season was so late, owing ,to its 
 height above the sea, that the early spring-flowers were yet 
 in bloom. Poppies flamed among the wheat, and the banks of 
 the stream were brilliant with patches of a creeping plant, 
 with a bright purple blossom. The asphodel grew in great 
 profusion, and an ivy-leaved shrub, covered with flakes of white 
 bloom, made the air faint with its fragrance. Still further up, 
 we came to orchards of walnut and plum trees, and vineyards, 
 There were no houses, but the inhabitants, who were mostly 
 Turcomans, live in villages during the winter, and in summer 
 pitch their tents on the mountains where they pasture their 
 flocks. Directly over this quiet pastoral vale towered the 
 Taurus, and I looked at once on its secluded lovelipess and on 
 the wintry heights, whose bleak and sublime heads were 
 mantled in clouds. Prom no point is there a more imposing 
 view of the whole snowy range. Near the head of the valley 
 we passed a large Turcoman encampment, surrounded with 
 herds of sheep and cattle. 
 
 We halted for the evening at a place caEed Kolii-Kushlar— 
 an immense fortress-village, resembling Baias, and like it, 
 wholly deserted. Near it there is a small town of very 
 neat houses, which is also deserted, the inhabitants having 
 gone into the mountains with their flocks. I walked through 
 
246 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the fortress, which is a massive building of stone, about 500 
 feet square, erected by Sultan Murad as a resting-place for the 
 caravans to Mecca. It has two spacious portals, in which the 
 iron doors are still hanging, connected by a vaulted passage, 
 twenty feet high and forty wide, with bazaars on each side. 
 Side gateways open into large courts, surrounded with arched 
 chambers. There is a mosque entire, with its pulpit and 
 galleries, and the gilded crescent still glittering over its dome. 
 Behind it is a bath, containing an entrance hall and half a 
 dozen chambers, in which the water-pipes and stone tanks still 
 remain. With a little alteration, the building would make a 
 capital Phalanstery, where the Pourierites might try their 
 experiment without contact with Society. There is no field 
 for them equal to Asia Minor — a glorious region, abounding in 
 natural wealth, almost depopulated, and containing a great 
 number of Phalansteries ready built. 
 
 We succeeded in getting some eggs, fowls, and milk from an 
 old Turcoman who had charge of the village. A man who 
 rode by on a donkey sold us a bag of yaourt (sour milk-curds), 
 which was delicious, notwithstanding the suspicious appearance 
 of the bag. It was. made before the cream had been removed, 
 and was very rich and nourishing. The old Turcoman sat 
 down and watched us while we ate, but would not join us, as 
 these wandering tribes are very strict in keeping Ramazan. 
 When we had reached our dessert — a plate of fine cherries — 
 another white-bearded and dignified gentleman visited us. We 
 handed him the cherries, expecting that he would take a few 
 and politely return the dish : but no such thing. He coolly 
 produced his handkerchief, emptied everything into it, and 
 marched off. He also did not venture to eat, although we 
 
THE PLAIN OF KARAMANIA. 247 
 
 pointed to the Taurus, on whose upper snows the last gleam of 
 daylight was just melting away. 
 
 We arose this morning in a dark, cloudy dawn. There was 
 a heavy black storm hanging low in the west, and another was 
 gathering its forces along the mountains behind us, A cold 
 wind blew down the valley, and long peals of thunder rolled 
 grandly among the gorges of Taurus. An isolated hill, 
 cro^vued with a shattered crag which bore a striking resem- 
 blance to a ruined fortress, stood out black and sharp against 
 the far, misty, sunlit peaks. As far as the springs were yet 
 undi'ied, the land was covered with flowers. In one place I 
 saw a large square plot of the most brilliant crimson hue, 
 burning amid the green wheat-fields, as if some.Tyrian mantle 
 had been flung there. The long, harmonious slopes and 
 rounded summits of the hills were covered with drifts of a 
 beautiful purple clover, and a diminutive variety of the achillea, 
 or yarrow, with glowing yellow blossoms. The leaves had a 
 pleasant aromatic odor, and filled the air with their refreshing 
 breath, as they were crushed under the hoofs of our horses. 
 
 We had now reached the highest ridge of the hilly country 
 along the northern base of Taurus, and saw, far and wide 
 before us, the great central plain of Karamania. Two isolated 
 mountains, at forty or fifty miles distance, broke the monotony 
 of the desert-like level : Kara Dagh in the west, and the snow- 
 capped summits of Hassan Dagh in the north-east. Beyond 
 the latter, we tried to catch a glimpse of the famous Mons 
 Argffius, at the base of which is Kaisariyeh, the ancient Csesarea 
 of Cappadocia. This mountain, which is 13,000 feet high, is 
 the loftiest peak of Asia Minor. The clouds hung low on the 
 horizon, and the rains were falling, veUing it from our sight. 
 
248 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Our road, for the remainder of the day, was over barren 
 hills, covered with scanty herbage. The sun shone out intense- 
 ly hot, and the glare of the white soil was exceedingly painful 
 to my eyes. The locality of Eregli was betrayed, some time 
 before we reached it, by its dark-green belt of fruit trees. It 
 stands in the mouth of a narrow Talley which winds down 
 from the Taurus, and is watered by a large rapid stream that 
 finally loses itself in the lakes and morasses of the plain. 
 There had been a heavy black thunder-cloud gathering, and as 
 we reached our camping-ground, under some fine walnut-trees 
 near the stream, a sudden blast of cold wind swept over the 
 town, filling the air with dust. We pitched the tent in all 
 haste, expecting a storm, but the rain finally passed to 
 the northward. We then took a walk through the town, 
 which is a forlorn place. A spacious khan, built apparently 
 for the Mecca pilgrims, is in ruins, but the mosque has an 
 exquisite minaret, eighty feet high, and still bearing traces of 
 the devices, in blue tiles, which once covered it. The shops 
 were mostly closed, and in those which were still open the 
 owners lay at full length on their bellies, their faces gaunt 
 with fasting. They seemed annoyed at our troubling them, 
 even with purchases. One would have thought that some 
 fearful pestilence had fallen upon the town. The cobblers 
 only, who somewhat languidly plied their implements, seemed 
 to retain a little life. The few Jews and Armenians smoked 
 their pipes in a tantalizing manner, in the very faces of the 
 poor Mussulmans. We bought an oka of excellent cherries, 
 which we were cruel enough to taste in the streets, before the 
 hungry eyes of the suffering merchants. 
 
 This evening the asses belonging to the place were driven in 
 
A DERVISH. 249 
 
 from pasture — four or five hundred in all ; and such a show of 
 curious asinine specimens as I never before beheld. A Dervish, 
 who was with us in Quarantine, at Adana, has just arrived. He 
 had lost his tesUri (passport), and on issuing forth purified, 
 was cast into prison. Finally he found some one who knew 
 him, and procured his release. He had come on foot to this 
 place in five days, suffering many privations, having been forty- 
 eight hours without food. He is bound to Konia, on a pil- 
 grimage to the tomb of Hazret Mevlana, the founder of the 
 sect of dancing Dervishes. We gave him food, in return for 
 which he taught me the formula of his prayers. He tells me I 
 should always pronounce the name of Allah when my horse 
 stumbles, or I see a man in danger of his life, as the word haa 
 a saving power. Hadji Youssuf, who has just been begging 
 for an advance of twenty piastres to buy grain for his horses, 
 swore "by the pardon of God" that he would sell the lame 
 horse at Konia and get a better one. We have lost all confi- 
 dence in the old villain's promises, but the poor beasts shall 
 not suffer for his delinquencies. 
 
 Our tent is in a charming spot, and, from without, makes a 
 picture to be remembered. The yellow illumination from 
 within strikes on the under sides of the walnut boughs, while 
 the moonlight silvers them from above. Beyond gardens 
 where the nightingales are smging, the tall minaret of Eregli 
 stands revealed in the vapory glow. The night is too sweet 
 and balmy for sleep, and yet I must close my eyes upon it, for 
 the hot plains of Karamania await us to-morrow. 
 
 11* 
 
250 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE PLAINS OF KARAMANIA. 
 
 The Plai09 of Karamanla — ^Afternoon Heat— A Well— Volcanic Phenomena— Kara> 
 bounar — ^A Grand Ruined Khan — Moonlight Pictnre — &. Landscape of the Plains-— 
 Mirages— A Short Interview— "The Tillage of Ismil— Third Day on the Plains- 
 Approach to Konia. 
 
 " A weary waste, expanding to the skies."— Qou>3Uith. 
 
 EoKiA, Capital of Karamanla, Friday^ June 85, 1854. 
 
 rRAN90is awoke us at the break of day, at Eregli, as we 
 had a journey of twelve hours before us. Passing through the 
 town, we traversed a narrow belt of garden and orchard land, 
 and entered the great plain of Karatnania. Our road led at 
 first northward towards a range called Karadja Dagh, and 
 then skirted its base westward. After three hours' travel we 
 passed a village of neat, whitewashed houses, which were 
 entirely deserted, all the inhabitants having gone off to the 
 mountains. There were some herds scattered over the plain, 
 near the village. As the day wore on, the wind, which had 
 been chill in the morning, ceased, and the air became hot and 
 sultry. The glare from the white soil was so painful that I 
 was obliged to close my eyes, and so ran a continual risk of 
 falling asleep and tumbling from my horse. Thus, drowsy and 
 half unconscious of my whereabouts, I rode on in the heat and 
 
VOLCANIC PUENOMBNA. 251 
 
 arid silence of the plain until noon, when we reached a well. 
 It was a shaft, sunk about thirty feet deep, with a long, slop- 
 ing gallery slanting off to the surface. The well was nearly 
 dry, but by descending the gallery we obtained a sufficient 
 supply of cold, pure water. "We breakfasted in the shaded 
 doorway, sharing our provisions with a Turcoman boy, who 
 was accompanying bis father to Eregli with a load of salt. 
 
 Our road now crossed a long, barren pass, between two 
 parts of Karadja Dagh. Near the northern side there was a 
 salt lake of one hundred yards in diameter, sunk in a deep 
 natural basin. The water was intensely saline. On the other 
 side of the road, and a quarter of a mile distant, is an extinct 
 volcano, the crater of which, near two hundred feet deep, is a 
 salt lake, with a trachytie cone three hundred feet high rising 
 from the centre. From the slope of the mountain we over- 
 looked another and somewhat deeper plain, extending to the 
 north and west. It was bounded by broken peaks, all of 
 which betrayed a volcanic origin. Far before us we saw the 
 tower on the hill of Kara-bounar, our resting-place for the 
 night. The road thither was over a barren plain, cheered here 
 and there by patches of a cushion-like plant, which was covered 
 with pink blossoms. Mr. Harrison scared up some coveys of 
 the frankohn, a large bird resembling the pheasant, and 
 enriched our larder with a dozen starlings. 
 
 Kara-bounar is built on the slope of a mound, at the foot of 
 which stands a spacious mosque, visible far over the plain. It 
 has a dome, and two tall, pencil-like towers, similar to those of 
 the Citadel-mosque of Cairo. Near it are the remains of a 
 magnificent khan-fortress, said to have been built by the eunuch 
 of one of the former Snltans. As there was no water in the 
 
252 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 wells outside of the town, we entered the khan and pitched the 
 tent in its grass-grown court. Six square pillars of hewn stone 
 made an aisle to our door, and the lofty, roofless walls of the 
 court, 100 by 150 feet, inclosed us. Another court, of similar 
 size, communicated with it by a broad portal, and the remains 
 of baths and bazaars lay beyond. A handsome stone fountain, 
 with two streams of running water, stood in front of the khan. 
 We were royally lodged, but almost starred in our splendor, 
 as only two or three Turcomans remained out of two thousand 
 (who had gone off with their herds to the mountains), and they 
 were unable to furnish us with proTisions. But for our franko- 
 lins and starlings we should have gone fasting. 
 
 The mosque was a beautiful structure of white limestone, 
 and the galleries of its minarets were adorned with rich ara- 
 besque ornaments. While the muezzin was crying his sunset- 
 call to prayer, I .entered the portico and looked into the inte- 
 rior, which was so bare as to appear incomplete. As we sat 
 in our palace-court, after dinner, the moon arose, lighting up 
 the niches in the walls, the clusters of windows in the immense 
 eastern gable, and the rows of massive columns. The large 
 dimensions of the building gave it a truly grand effect, and but 
 for the whine of a distant jackal I could have believed that we 
 were sitting in the aisles of a roofless Gothic cathedral, in the 
 heart of Europe. Pran§ois was somewhat fearful of thieves, 
 but the peace and repose of the place wefe so perfect that I 
 would not allow any such apprehensions to disturb me. In 
 two minutes after I touched my bed I was insensible, and I did 
 not move a limb until sunrise. 
 
 Beyond Kara-bounar, there is a low, barren ridge, climbing 
 which, we overlooked an immense plain, uncultivated, appa 
 
UISAQES. 253 
 
 rently unfertile, and without a sign of life as far as the eye 
 could reach. Kara Dagh, in the south, lifted nearer us its cluster 
 of dark summits ; to the north, the long ridge of tJsedjik Dagh 
 (the Pigmy Mountain) stretched like a cape into the plain ; 
 Hassan Dagh, wrapped in a soft white -cloud, receded behind 
 us, and the snows of Taurus seemed almost as distant as when 
 we first beheld them from the Syrian Gates. We rode for four 
 hours over the dead level, the only objects that met our eyes 
 being an occasional herd of camels in the distance. About 
 noon, we reached a well, similar to that of the previous day, 
 but of recent construction. A long, steep gallery led down to 
 the water, which was very cold, but had a villainous taste of 
 lime, salt, and sulphur. 
 
 After an hour's halt, we started again. The sun was 
 intensely hot, and for hours we jogged on over the dead level, 
 the bare white soil blinding our eyes with its glare. The dis- 
 tant hills were lifted above the horizon by a mh'age. Long 
 sheets of blue water were spread along their bases, islanding 
 the isolated peaks, and turning into ships and boats the black 
 specks of camels far away. But the phenomena were by no 
 means on so grand a scale as I had seen in the Nubian Desert. 
 On the south-western horizon, we discerned the summits of the 
 Karaman range of Taurus, covered with snow. In the middle 
 of the afternoon, we saw a solitary tent upon the plain, from 
 which an individual advanped to meet us. As he drew nearer, 
 we noticed that he wore white Frank pantaloons, simUar to the 
 Turkish soldiery, with a jacket of brown cloth, aid a heavy 
 sabre. When he was within convenient speaking distance, he 
 cried out: "Stopl why are you running away from rae?» 
 "What do you call running away?" rejoined Fra-eois- "wf 
 
254 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 are going on our journey." " Where do you come from ?" he 
 then asked. " From there," said Frangois, pointing behind us. 
 " Where are you going ?" " There 1" and the provoking Greek 
 simply pomted forwards. " Tou have neither faith nor reli- 
 gion 1" said the man," indignantly ; then, turning upon his heel, 
 he strode back across the plain. 
 
 About four o'clock, we saw a long line of objects rising 
 before ns, but so distorted by the mirage that it was impossible 
 to know what they were. After a while, however, we decided 
 that they were houses interspersed with trees ; but the trees 
 proved to be stacks of hay and lentils, heaped on the flat roofs. 
 This was Ismil, our halting-place. The houses were miserable 
 mud huts ; but the village was large, and, unlike most of those 
 we have seen this side of Taurus, inhabited. The people are 
 Turcomans, and their possessions appear to be almost entirely 
 in their herds. Immense numbers of sheep and goats were 
 pasturing on the plain. There were several wells in the place, 
 provided with buckets attached to long swing-poles ; the water 
 was very cold, but brackish. Our tent was pitched on the 
 plain, on a hard, gravelly strip of soil. A crowd of wild-haired 
 Turcoman boys gathered in front, to stare at us, and the shep- 
 herds quarrelled at the wells, as to which should take his turn 
 at watering his flocks. In the evening a handsome old Turk 
 visited us, and, finding that we were bound to Constantmople, 
 requested Francois to take a letter to his son, who was settled 
 there. 
 
 Frangois aroused us this morning before the dawn, as we 
 had a journey of thirty-five miles before us. He was in a bad 
 humor ; for a man, whom he had requested to keep watch over 
 his tent, while he went into the village, had stolen a fork and 
 
APPROACH TO KONIA. 255 
 
 spoon. The old Turk, wlio had returned as soon as we were 
 stirring, went out to hunt the thief, but did not succeed in 
 finding him. The inhabitants of the village were up long 
 before sunrise, and driving away in their wooden-wheeled carts 
 to the meadows where they cut grass. The old Turk accom- 
 panied us some distance, in order to show us a nearer way, 
 avoiding a marshy spot. Our road lay over a vast plain, seem- 
 ingly boundless, for the lofty mountain-ranges that surrounded 
 it on all sides were so distant and cloud-like, and so lifted from 
 the horizon by the deceptive mirage, that the eye did not 
 recognize their connection with it. The wind blew strongly 
 from the north-west, and was so cold that I dismounted and 
 walked ahead for two or three hours. 
 
 Before noon, we passed two vUlages of mud huts, partly 
 inhabited, and with some wheat-fields around them. We 
 breakfasted at another well, which furnished us with a drink 
 that tasted like iced sea-water. Thence we rode forth again 
 into the heat, for the wind had fallen by this time, and the sun 
 shone out with great force. There was ever the same dead 
 level, and we rode directly towards the mountains, which, to 
 my eyes, seemed nearly as distant as ever. At last, there was 
 a dark glimmer through the mirage, at their base, and a half- 
 hour's ride showed it to be a line of trees. In another hour, 
 we could distinguish a minaret or two, and finally, walls and 
 the stately domes of mosques. This was Konia, the ancient 
 Tconium, one of the most renowned cities of Asia Minor. 
 
256 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SCENES IN KONIA. 
 
 Approach to Eonia — Tomb of Hasret Mevlana — ^Lodgings in a Khan— An American 
 Luxury— A Nighi-Scene in Ramazan— Prayers In the Mosque— Bemalna of the 
 Ancient City— View from the Mosqne — ^Ihe Interior— A Leaning Minaret— The 
 Diverting History of the Muleteers. 
 
 " But they shoolc off the dust of their feet, and came unto Iconium."— Acts, zm. 51, 
 
 EomA (Ancient Iconium), Jims 2T, 1863. 
 
 The view of Konia from the plain is not striking until one has 
 approached within a mile of the suburbs, when the group of 
 mosques, with- their heavy central domes lifted on clusters of 
 smaller ones, and their tall, light, glittering minarets, rising 
 above the foliage of the gardens, against the background of 
 airy hills, has a very pleasing effect. We approached through 
 a long line of dirty suburbs, which looked still more forlorn on 
 account of the Ramazan. Some Turkish officials, in shabby 
 Frank dresses, followed us to satisfy their curiosity by talking 
 with our Katurjees, or muleteers. Outside the city walls, we 
 passed some very large barracks for cavalry, built by Ibrahim 
 Pasha. On the plain north-east of the city, the battle between 
 him and the forces of the Sultan, resulting in the defeat of the 
 latter, was fought. 
 We next came upon two magnificent mosques, built of whits 
 
THE TOMB OF HAZEET METLANA. 251 
 
 limestoue, with a multitude of leaden domes and lofty minarets, 
 adorned with galleries rich in arabesque ornaments. Attached 
 to. one of them is the tomb of Hazret Mevlana, the founder of 
 the sect of McTlevi Dervishes, which is reputed one of the 
 most sacred places in the East. The tomb is surmounted by a 
 dome, upon which stands a tall cylindrical tower, reeded, with 
 channels between each projection, and terminating in a long, 
 tapering cone. This tower is made of glazed tiles, of the most 
 brilliant sea-blue color, and sparkles in the sun Uke a vast pillar 
 of icy spar in some Polar grotto. It is a most striking and 
 fantastic object, surrounded by a cluster of minarets and several 
 cypress-trees, amid which it seems placed as the central orna- 
 ment and crown of the group. 
 
 The aspect of the city was so filthy and uninviting that we 
 preferred pitching our tent ; but it was impossible to find a 
 place without going back upon the plain ; so we turned into 
 the bazaar, and asked the way to a khan. There was a toler- 
 able crowd in the street, although many of the shops were shut. 
 The first khan we visited was too filthy to enter ; but the 
 second, though most unpromising in appearance, turned out to 
 be better than it looked. The odorlashi (master of the rooms) 
 thoroughly swept and sprinkled the narrow little chamber he 
 gave us, laid clean mats upon the floor, and, when our carpets 
 and beds were placed within, its walls of mud looked somewhat 
 comfortable. Its single window, with an iron grating in lieu of 
 glass, looked upon an oblong court, on the second story, sur- 
 rounded by the rooms of Armenian merchants. The main 
 court (the gate of which is always closed at sunset) is two 
 stories in height, with a rough wooden balcony running around 
 it, and a well of muddy water in the centre. 
 
258 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEV. 
 
 The oda-bashi lent us a Turkish table and supplied us with 
 dinner from Ms own kitchen; kibabs, stewed beans, and cucum- 
 ber salad. Mr. H. and I, forgetting the Ramazan, went out 
 to hunt for an iced sherbet; but all the coffee-shops were closed 
 until sunset. The people stared at our Egyptian costumes, 
 and a fellow in official dress demanded my teskere. Soon after 
 we returned, rran5ois appeared with a splendid lump of ice in 
 a basin and some lemons. The ice, so the khangee said, is 
 taken from a lake among the mountains, which in winter 
 freezes to the thickness of a foot. Behind the lake is a natural 
 cavern, which the people fill with ice, and then close up. At 
 this season they take it out, day by day, and bring it down to 
 the city. It is very pure and thick, and justifies the Turkish 
 proverb in regard to Konia, whicli is celebrated for three 
 excellent things : " dooz, booz, kuz " — salt, ice, and girls. 
 
 Soon after sunset, a cannon announced the close of the fast. 
 We waited an hour or two longer, to allow the people time to 
 eat, and then sallied out into the streets. Every minaret in 
 the city blazed with a crown of lighted lamps around its upper 
 gallery, while the long shafts below, and the tapering cones 
 above, topped with brazen crescents, shone fair in the moon- 
 light. It was a strange, brilliant spectacle. In the square 
 before the principal mosque we fomid a crowd of persons 
 frolicking around the fountain, in the light of a number of 
 torches on poles planted in the ground. Mats were spread on 
 the stones, and rows of Turks of all classes sat thereon, smok- 
 ing their pipes. Large earthen water-jars stood here and there, 
 and the people drank so often and so long that they seemed 
 determined to provide against the morrow. The boys were 
 having their amusement in wrestling, shouting and firing off 
 
A NJGHT-SCENE IN BAMAZAN. 259 
 
 squibs, which they threw into the crowd. We kicked off our 
 slippers, sat down among the Turks, smoked a narghileh, 
 drank a cup of coffee and an iced sherbet of raisin juice, and so 
 enjoyed the Ramazan as well as the best of them. 
 
 Numbers of True Believers were drinking and washing them- 
 selves at the picturesque fountain, and just as we rose to 
 depart, the voice of a boy-muezzin, on one of the tallest mina- 
 rets, sent down a musical call to prayer. Immediately the boys 
 left off their sports and started on a run for the great mosque, 
 and the grave, gray-bearded Turks got up from the mats, 
 shoved on their slippers, and marched after them. We fol- 
 lowed, getting a glimpse of the illuminated interior of the 
 building, as we passed; but the oda-bashi conducted us still 
 further, to a smaller though more beautiful mosque, surrounded 
 with a garden-court. It was a truly magical picture. We 
 entered the gate, and passed on by a marble pavement, under 
 trees and arbors of vines that almost shut out the moonlight, 
 to a paved space, in the centre whereof was a beautiful foun- 
 tain, in the purest Saracenic style. Its heavy, projecting cor- 
 nices and tall pyramidal roof rested on a circle of elegant 
 arches, surrounding a marble structure, whence the water 
 gushed forth in a dozen sparkling streams. On three sides it 
 was inclosed by the moonlit trees and arbors ; on the fourth 
 by the outer corridor of the mosque, the door of entrance being 
 exactly opposite. 
 
 Large numbers of persons were washing their hands and feet 
 at the fountain, after which they entered and knelt on the 
 floor. We stood unobserved in the corridor, and looked in on 
 the splendidly Oluminated interior and the crowd at prayer, all 
 bending their bodies to the earth at regular intervals and mur- 
 
260 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 muring the name of Allah. They resembled a plain of reedi 
 bending before the gusts of wind whi<jh precede a storm. 
 When all had entered and were united in solemn prayer, we 
 returned, passing the grand mosque. I stole up to the door, 
 lifted the heavy carpet that hung before it, and looked in. 
 There was a Mevlevi Dervish standing in the entrance, but his 
 eyes were lifted in heavenly abstraction, and he did not see me. 
 The interior was brilliantly lit by white and colored lamps, 
 suspended from the walls and the great central dome. It was 
 an imposing structure, simple in form, yet grand from its 
 dimensions. The floor was covered with kneeling figures, and 
 a deep voice, coming from the other end of the mosque, was 
 uttering pious phrases in a kind of chant. I satisfied my curi- 
 osity quickly, and we then returned to the khan. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon I made a more thorough examination 
 of the city. Passing through the bazaars, I reached the Serai, 
 or Pasha's Palace, which stands on the site of that of the Sul- 
 tans of loonium. It is a long, wooden building, with no pre- 
 tensions to architectural beauty. Near it there is a large and 
 ancient mosque, with a minaret of singular elegance. It is 
 about 120 feet high, with two hanging galleries ; the whole 
 built of blue and red bricks, the latter projecting so as to 
 form quaint patterns or designs. Several ancient buildings 
 near this mosque are surmounted with pyramidal towers, 
 resembling Pagodas of India. Following the long, crooked 
 lanes between mud buildings, we passed these curious struc- 
 tures and reached the ancient wall of the city. In one 
 of the streets lay a marble lion, badly executed, and appa- 
 rently of the time of the Lower Empire. In the wall were 
 inserted many similar figures, with fragments of friezes and 
 
VIEW FROM THE MOSQUE. 261 
 
 cornices. This is the worli of the Seljook Kings, who, in build- 
 ing the wall, took great pains to exhibit the fragments of the 
 ancient city. The number of altars they have preserved is 
 quite remarkable. On the square towers are sunken tablets, 
 containing long Arabic inscriptions. 
 
 The high walls of a ruined building in the southern part of 
 the city attracted us, and on going thither we found it to be 
 an ancient mosque, standing on an eminence formed apparently 
 of the debris of other buildings. Part of ihe wall was also 
 ancient, and in some places showed the marks of an earth- 
 quake. A long flight of steps led up to the door of the 
 mosque, and as we ascended we were rewarded by the most 
 charming view of the city and the grand plain. Konia lay at 
 our feet-^a wide, straggling array of low mud dwellings, 
 dotted all over with patches of garden verdure, while its three 
 superb mosques, with the many smaller tombs and places of 
 worship, appeared like buildings left from some former and 
 more magnificent capital. Outside of this circle ran a belt of 
 garden land, adorned with groves and long lines of fruit trees ; 
 still further, the plain, a sea of faded green, flecked with the 
 softest cloud-shadows, and beyond all, the beautiful outlines 
 and dreamy tints of the different mountain chains. It was in 
 every respect a lovely landscape, and the city is unworthy 
 such surroundings. The sky, which in this region is of a pale, 
 soft, delicious blue, was dotted with scattered fleeces of white 
 clouds, and there was an exquisite play of light and shade over 
 the hills. 
 
 There were half a dozen men and boys about the door, 
 amusing themselves with bursting percussion caps on the 
 Btone. They addressed us as " Aadji!" (pilgrims), begging 
 
262 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN, 
 
 for more caps. I told them I was not a Turk, but an Arab, 
 which they believed at once, and requested me to enter the 
 mosque. The interior had a remarkably fine effect. It was a 
 maze of arches, supported by columns of polished black mar- 
 ble, forty in number. In form it was nearly square, and 
 covered with a flat, wooden roof. The floor was covered with 
 a carpet, whereon several persons were lying at full length, 
 while an old man, seated in one of the most remote corners, 
 was reading in a loud, solemn voice. It is a peculiar struc- 
 ture, which I should be glad to examine more in detail. 
 
 Not far from this eminence is a remarkable leaning minaret, 
 more than a hundred feet in height, while in diameter it can- 
 not be more than fifteen feet. In design it is light and ele- 
 gant, and the effect is not injured by its deviation from the 
 perpendicular, which I should judge to be about six feet. 
 From the mosque we walked over the mounds of old Iconium 
 to the eastern wall, passing another mosque, wholly in ruin, 
 but which must have once been more splendid than any now 
 standing. The portal is the richest specimen of Saracenic 
 sculpture I have ever seen : a very labyrinth of intricate orna- 
 ments. The artist must have seen the great portal of the 
 Temple of the Sun at Baalbec. The minarets have tumbled 
 down, the roof has fallen in, but the walls are still covered 
 with white and blue tiles, of the finest workmanship, resembling 
 a mosaic of ivory and lapis lazuli. Some of the chambers 
 seem to be inhabited, for two old men with white beards lay 
 in the shade, and were not a little startled by our sudden 
 appearance. 
 
 We returned to the great mosque, which we had visited on the 
 evening of our arrival, and listened for some time to the voice 
 
THE MULETHEES. 263 
 
 of a mollah who was preaching an afternoon sermon to a small 
 and hangry congregation. We then entered the court before 
 the tomb of Hazret Mevlana. It was apparently forbidden 
 ground to Christians, but as the Dervishes did not seem to sus- 
 pect us we walked about boldly, and were about to enter, when 
 an iadiscretion of my companion frustrated our plans. For- 
 getting his assumed character, he went to the fountain and 
 drank, although it was no later than the asser, or afternoon 
 prayer. The Dervishes were shocked and scandalized by this 
 violation of the fast, in the very court-yard of their holiest 
 mosque, and we judged it best to retire by degrees. We sent 
 this morning to request an interview with the Pasha, but he 
 had gone to pass the day in a country palace, about three 
 hours distant. It is a still, hot, bright afternoon, and the 
 silence of the famished populace disposes us to repose. Our 
 view is bounded by the mud walls of the khan, and I already 
 long for the freedom of th& great Karamanian Plain. Here, 
 in the heart of Asia Minor, all life seems to stagnate. There 
 is sleep everywhere, and I feel that a wide barrier separates 
 me from the living world. 
 
 We have been detained here a whole day, through a chain 
 of accidents, all resulting from the rascality of our muleteers 
 on leaving Aleppo. The lame horse they pahned upon us was 
 unable to go further, so we obliged them to buy another ani- 
 mal, which they succeeded in getting for 350 piastres. We 
 advanced the money, although they were still in our debt, 
 hoping to work our way through with the new horse, and thus 
 avoid the risk of loss or delay. But this morning at sunrise 
 Hadji Youssuf comes with a woeful face to say that the new 
 horse has been stolen in the m'ght, and we, who are ready to 
 
264 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 start, must sit down and wait till he is recovered. I suspected 
 another trick, but when, after the lapse of three hours, Fran- 
 cois found the hadji sitting on the ground, weeping, and Achmet 
 beating his breast, it seemed probable that the story was true. 
 All search for the horse being vain, Frangois went with them 
 to the shekh of the horses, who promised, in case it should 
 hereafter be found, to place it in the general pen, where they 
 would be sure to get it on their return. The man who sold 
 them the horse offered them another for the lame one and 150 
 piastres, and there was no other alternative but to accept it. 
 But we must advance the 150 piastres, and so, in mid-journey, 
 we have already paid them to the end, with the risk of their 
 horses breaking down, or they, horses and all, absconding from 
 us. But the knavish varleta are hardly bold enough for sach 
 a cUmax of villany. 
 
SCENERY OF THE HILLS. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE HEAKT OP ASIAMINOK. 
 
 Scenery- of the Hills— tadik, the Ancient Laodicea— The Plague of Cad-Ellea— Camp at 
 Sgiin — A Natural Warm Bath — ^The Gad-Fliea Again — A Summer Landscape — ^Ak- 
 Sheher— The Base of Sultan Dagh— The Fountain of Midas— A Drowsy Journey^ 
 The Town of Bolawadun. 
 
 " By the forests, lakes, and fountains, 
 Though the many-folded mountains." Shbllet. 
 
 BoLAWADnN, JvJy 1, 1852. 
 
 OuB men brought all the beasts into the court-yard of the 
 khan at Konia, the evening before our departure, so that no 
 more were stolen during the night. The oda-bashi, indefatiga- 
 ble to the last in his attention to us, not only helped load 
 the mules, but accompanied us some distance on our way. AU 
 the merchants in the khan collected in the gaUery to see us 
 start, and we made our exit in some state. The morning was 
 clear, fresh, and delightful. Turning away from the city walls, 
 we soon emerged from the lines of fruit-trees and interminable 
 fields of tomb-stones, and came out upon the great bare plain 
 of Karamania. A ride of three hours brought us to a long, 
 sloping hill, which gave us a view of the whole plain, and its 
 circuit of mountains. A dark line in the distance marked the 
 gardens of Konia. On the right, near the centre of the plain, 
 
 12 
 
266 THE LANDS OF THE SARAOKN. 
 
 the lake, now contracted to very narrow limits, glimmered in 
 the sun. Notwithstanding the waste and unfertile appearance 
 of the country, the soft, sweet sky that hangs over it, the 
 pure, transparent air, the grand sweep of the plain, and the 
 varied forms of the different mountain chains that encompass 
 it, make our journey an inspiring one./ A descent of the hills 
 soon shut out the view ; and the rest of the day's journey lay 
 among them, skirting the eastern base of Allah Dagh. 
 
 The country improved in character, as we advanced. The 
 bottoms of the dry glens were covered with wheat, and shrub- 
 bery began to make its appearance on the mountain-sides In 
 the afternoon, we crossed a watershed, dividing Karamania 
 from the great central plain of Asia Minor, and descended to a 
 village called Ladik, occupying the site of the ancient Laodi- 
 cea, at the foot of Allah Dagh. The plain upon which we came 
 was greener and more flourishing than that we had left. Trees 
 were scattered here and_ there in clumps, and the grassy wastes, 
 stretching beyond the grain-fields, were dotted with herds of 
 cattle. Emir Dagh stood in the north-west, blue and distant, 
 while, towards the north and north-east, the plain extended to 
 the horizon — a horizon fifty miles distant — ^without a break 
 In that direction lay the great salt lake of Tiizler, and the 
 strings of camels we met on the road, laden vrith salt, were 
 returning from it. Ladik is surrounded with poppy-fields, bril- 
 liant with white and purple blossoms. When the petals have 
 fallen, the natives go carefully over the whole field and make 
 incisions in every stalk, whence the opium exudes. 
 
 We pitched our tent under a large walnut tree, which we 
 found standing in a deserted inclosure. The graveyard of the 
 Tillage is studded with relics of the ancient town. There are 
 
THE ANCIENT LAODICEA. 267 
 
 pillars, cornices, entablatures, jambs, altars, mullions and 
 sculptured tablets, all of white marble, and many of them in 
 an excellent state of preservation. They appear to date from 
 the early time of the Lower Empire, and the cross has not yet 
 been effaced from some which serve as head-stones for the True 
 Believers. I was particularly struck with the abundance of 
 altars, some of which contained entire and legible inscriptions. 
 In the town there is the same abundance of ruins. The lid 
 of a sarcophagus, formed of a single block of marble, now 
 serves as a water-trough, and the fountain is constructed of 
 ancient tablets. The town stands on a mound which appears 
 to be composed entirely of the debris of the former place, and 
 near the summit there are many holes which the inhabitants 
 have dug in their search for rings, seals and other relics. 
 
 The next day we made a journey of nine hours over a hilly 
 country lying between the ranges of Allah Dagh and Emir 
 Dagh. There were weUs of excellent water along the road, at 
 intervals of an hour or two. The day was excessively hot and 
 sultry during the noon hours, and the flies -were so bad as to 
 give great inconvenience to our horses. The animal I bestrode 
 kicked so incessantly that I could scarcely keep my seat. His 
 belly was swollen and covered with clotted blood, from their 
 bites. The hadji's mule began to show symptoms of illness, 
 and we had great difficulty in keeping it on its legs. Mr, 
 Harrison bled it in the mouth, as a last resource, and during 
 the afternoon it partly recovered. 
 
 An hour before sunset we reached Ilgun, a town on the 
 plain, at the foot of one of the spurs of Emir Dagh. To the 
 west of it there is a lake of considerable size, which receives 
 the streams that flow through the town and water its fertile 
 
*b8 THE hASDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 gardens. We passed through the town and pitched our tent 
 upon a beautiful grassy meadow. Our customary pipe of 
 refreshment was never moie heartily enjoyed than at this place. 
 Behind us was a barren hUl, at the foot of which was a natural 
 hot bath, wherein a number of women and children were 
 amusing themselves. The afternoon heat had passed away, the 
 air was cahn, sweet, and tempered with the freshness of coming 
 evening, and the long shadows of the hills, creeping over the 
 meadows, had almost reached the town. Beyond the line of 
 sycamore, poplar and fig-trees that shaded the gardens of 
 Ilgiin, rose the distant chain of Allah Dagh, and in the pale« 
 blue sky, not far above it, the dim face of the gibbous moon 
 showed like the ghost of a planet. Our horses were feeding 
 on the green meadow; an old Turk sat beside us, silent with 
 fasting, and there was no sound but the shouts of the children 
 in the bath. Such hours as these, after a day's journey made 
 in the drowsy heat of an Eastern summer, are indescribably 
 grateful. 
 
 After the women had retired from the bath, we were allowed 
 to enter. The interior consisted of a single chamber, thirty 
 feet high, vaulted and almost dark. In the centre was a large 
 basin of hot water, filled by four streams which poured into it 
 A ledge ran around the sides, and niches in the wall supplied 
 places for our clothes. The bath-keeper furnished us with 
 towels, and. we undressed and plunged in. The water was 
 agreeably warm (about 90°), had a sweet taste, and a very 
 sUght sulphury smell. The vaulted hall redoubled the sUght- 
 est noise, and a shaven Turk, who kept us company, sang in 
 his delight, that he might hear the echo of his own voice. 
 When we went back to the tent we found our visitor lying on 
 
THE PLAGUE OF GAD-PLIES. 5J69 
 
 the ground, trying to stay liis hunger. It was rather too bad 
 in us to light our pipes, make a sherbet, and drink and smoke 
 in his face, while we joked him about the Ramazan ; and he at 
 last got up and walked off, the picture of distress. 
 
 We made an early start the next morning, and rode on 
 briskly over the rolling, grassy hills. A beautiful lake, with 
 an island in it, lay at the foot of Emir Dagh. After two hours 
 we reached a guard-house, where our teskerh were demanded, 
 and the lazy guardsman invited us in to take coffee, that he 
 might establish a right to the backsheesh which he could not 
 demand. He had seen us afar off, and the coffee was smoking 
 in the finjans when we arrived. The sun was already terribly 
 hot, and the large, green gad-flies came in such quantities that 
 I seemed to be riding in the midst of a swarm of bees. My 
 horse suffered very much, and struck out his hind feet so 
 violently, in his endeavors to get rid of them, that he racked 
 every joint in my body. They were not content with suck- 
 ing his blood, but settling on the small segment of my calf, 
 exposed between the big Tartar boot and the flowing trowsers, 
 bit through my stockings with fierce bills. I kUled hundreds 
 of them, to no purpose, and at last, to relieve my horse, tied a 
 bunch of hawthorn to a string, by which I swung it under his 
 belly and against the inner side of his -flanks. In this way I 
 gave him some relief — a service which he acknowledged by a 
 grateful motion of his head. 
 
 As we descended towards Ak-Sheher the country became 
 exceedingly rich and luxuriant. The range of Sultan Dagh 
 (the Mountain of the Sultan) rose on our left, its sides covered 
 with a thick screen of shrubbery, and its highest peak dotted 
 with paitches of snow; opposite, the lower range of Emir Dagh 
 
210 THE LANBS OP THE SAEACEN. 
 
 (the Mountain of tte Prince) lay blue and bare in the sun- 
 shine. The base of Sultan Dagh was girdled with groves of 
 fruit-trees, stretching out in long lines on the plain, with fields 
 of ripening wheat between. In the distance the large lake of 
 Ak-Sheher glittered in the-sun. Towards the north-west, the 
 plain stretched away for fifty mUes before reaching the hills. 
 It is evidently on a much lower level than the plain of Konia ; 
 the heat was not only greater, but the season was further 
 advanced. Wheat was nearly readj for cutting, and the 
 poppy-fields where, the day previous, the men were making 
 their first incisions for opium, here bad yielded their harvest 
 and were fast ripening their seed. Ak-Sheher is beautifully 
 situated at the entrance of a deep gorge in the mountains. It 
 is so buried in its embowered gardens that little, except the 
 mosque, is seen as you approach it. It is a large place, and 
 boasts a fine mosque, but contains nothing worth seeing. The 
 bazaar, after that of Konia, was the largest we had seen since 
 leaving Tarsus. The greater part of the shopkeepers lay at 
 full length, dozing, sleeping, or staying their appetites till the 
 sunset gun. We found some superb cherries, and plenty of 
 snow,' which is brought down from the mountain. The 
 natives were very friendly and good-humored, but seemed sur- 
 prised at Mr. Harrison tasting the cherries, although I told 
 them we were upon a journey. Our tent was pitched under a 
 splendid walnut tree, outside of the town. The green mountain 
 rose between us and the fading sunset, and the yellow moon 
 was hanging in the east, as we took our dinner at the tent- 
 door. Turks were riding homewards on donkeys, with loads of 
 grass which they had been cutting in the meadows. The gun 
 was fired, and the shouts of the children announced tls3 closa 
 
THE BASE OF SULTAN DAUH. 271 
 
 of the daj's fast, while the sweet, melancholy voice of a boy- 
 inuezzia called us to sunset prayer, from the minaret. 
 
 Leaving Ak-Sheher this morning, we rode along the base 
 of Sultan Dagh. The plain which we overlooked was magnifi- 
 cent. The wilderness of shrubbery which fringed the slopes 
 of the mountain gave place to great orchards and gardens, 
 interspersed with fields of grain, which extended far out on 
 the plain, to the wild thickets and wastes of reeds surrounding 
 the lake. The sides of Sultan Dagh were terraced and culti- 
 vated wherever it was practicable, and I saw some fields of 
 wheat high up on the mountain. There were many people 
 in the road or laboring in the fields ; and during the forenoon 
 we passed several large villages. The country is more thickly 
 inhabited, and has a more thrifty and prosperous air than any 
 part of Asia Minor which I have seen. The people are better 
 clad, have more open, honest, cheerful and intelligent faces, 
 and exhibit a genuine courtesy and good-will in their demeanor 
 towards us. I never felt more perfectly secure, or more certain 
 of being among people whom I could trust. 
 
 We passed under the summit of Sultan Dagh, which shone 
 out so clear and distinct in the morning sun, that I could 
 scarcely realize its actual height above the plain. From a tre- 
 mendous gorge, cleft between the two higher peaks, issued a 
 large stream, which, divided into a hundred channels, fertilizes 
 a wide extent of plain. About two hours from Ak-Sheher we 
 passed a splendid fountain of crystal water, gushing up beside 
 the road. I believe it is the same called by some travellers 
 the Fountain of Midas, but am ignorant wherefore the name is 
 given it. We rode for several hours through a succession of 
 grand, rich landscapes. A smaller lake succeeded to that of 
 
2T2 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Ak-Sheher, Emir Dagh rose higher in the pale-blue sky, and 
 Sultan Dagh showed other peaks, broken and striped with 
 snow ; but around ns were the same glorious orchards and 
 gardens, the same golden-green wheat and rustling phalanxes 
 of poppies — armies of vegetable Round-heads, beside the 
 bristling and bearded Cavaliers. The sun was intensely hot 
 during the afternoon, as we crossed the plain, and I became so 
 drowsed that it required an agony of exertion to keep from 
 tumbling off my horse. We here left the great post-road to 
 Constantinople, and took a less frequented track. The plain 
 gradually became a meadow, covered with shrub cypress, flags, 
 reeds, and wild water-plants. There were vast wastes of luxu- 
 riant grass, whereon thousands of black buffaloes were feeding. 
 A stone causeway, containing many elegant fragments of 
 ancient sculpture, extended across this part of the plain, but 
 we took a summer path beside it, through beds of iris in bloom 
 —a fragile snowy blossom, with a lip of the clearest golden 
 hue. The causeway led to a bare salt plain, beyond which we 
 came to the town of Bolawadun, and terminated our day's 
 journey of forty miles. 
 
 Bolawadun is a collection of mud houses, about a mile long, 
 situated on an eminence at the western base of Emir Dagh. 
 I went into the bazaar, which was a small place, and not very 
 well supplied, though, as it was near sunset, there was quite a 
 crowd of people, and the bakers were shovelling out their 
 fresh bread at a brisk rate. Every one took me for a 
 good Egyptian Mohammedan, and I was jostled right and left 
 among the turbans, in a manner that certainly would not have 
 happened mc had I not also worn one. Mr. H., who had 
 fallen behind the caravan, came up after we had encamped, 
 
BOLAWAD0N. 273 
 
 and might have wandered a long time without finding us, but 
 for the good-natured efforts of the inhabitants to set him 
 aright. This evening he knocked over a hedgehog, mistaking 
 it for a cat. The poor creature was severely hurt, and its sobs 
 of distress, precisely like those of a little child, were so paihful 
 to hear, that we were obliged to have it removed from the 
 Ticinity of the tent. 
 
 1S» 
 
8*14 THE LANDS Crlf tHB SAKACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE FORESTS OF PHETGIA. 
 
 The Frontier of Phrygia — Ancient Quarries and Tombs— We Enter the Pine Forests— A 
 Guard-House — ^Encampments of the Turcomane— Pastoral Scenery^-A Summer Vil- 
 lage — The Valley of the Tombs — Rock Sepulchres of the Phrygian Kings — The Titan's 
 Camp — ^The Valley of Kiimbeh— A Land of Flowers— Turcoman Hospitality — The 
 Exiled Effendis — The Old Turcoman— A Glimpse of Arcadia — A Landscape— Inter- 
 ested Friendship — The Valley of the Pursek— Arrival at Siutahya. 
 
 " And round us all the thicket rang 
 To many a flute of Arcady." Tennyson. 
 
 EntTAHTA, July 5, 18S!i. 
 
 We had now passed througli the ancient provinces of Cilicia, 
 Cappadocia, and Lycaonia, and reached the confines of Phrygia 
 — a rude mountain r£gion, which was never wholly penetrated 
 by the light of Grecian civilization. It is still comparatively 
 a wUderness, pierced but by a single high-road, and almost 
 unvisited by travellers, yet inclosing in its depths many curious 
 relics of antiquity. Leaving Bolawadun in the morning, we 
 ascended a long, treeless mountain-slope, and in three or four 
 hours reached the dividing ridge — the watershed of Asia 
 Minor, dividing the afiSuents of the Mediterranean and the 
 central lakes from the streams that flow to the Black Sea. 
 Looking back. Sultan Dagh, along whose base we had travelled 
 the previous day, lay high and blue in the background, 
 
ANCIENT QUARRIES AND TOMBS. 215 
 
 streaked with shining snow, and far away behind it arose 
 a still higher peak, hoary with the lingering winter. We 
 descended into a grassy plain, shut in by a range of broken 
 mountains, covered to their summits with dark-green shrub- 
 bery, through which the strata of marble rock gleamed like 
 patches of snow. The hills in front were scarred with old 
 quarries, once worked for the celebrated Phrygian marble. 
 There was neither a habitation nor a human being to be seen, 
 and the landscape had a singularly wild, lonely, and pictu- 
 resque air. 
 
 Turning westward, we crossed a high rolling t"act, and 
 entered a valley entirely covered with dwarf oaks and cedars. 
 In spite of the dusty road, the heat, and the multitude of gad- 
 flies, the journey presented an agreeable contrast to the great 
 plains over which we had been travelling for many days. The 
 opposite side of the glen was crowned with a tall crest of shat- 
 tered rock, in which were many old Phrygian tombs. They 
 were mostly simple chambers, with square apertures. There 
 were traces of many more, the rock having been blown up or 
 quarried down — the tombs, instead of protecting it, only fur- 
 nishing one facility the more for destruction. After an hour's 
 rest at a fountain, we threaded the windings of the glen to a 
 lower plain, quite shut in by the hills, whose ribs of marble 
 showed through the forests of oak, holly, cedar, and pine, which 
 dotted them. We were now fully entered into the hill-country, 
 and our road passed over heights and through hollows covered 
 with picturesque clumps of foliage. It resembled some of the 
 wild western downs of America, and, but for the Phrygian 
 tombs, whose doorways stared at us fi'om every rock, seemed 
 is little familiar with the presence of Man. 
 
276 
 
 THE LANDS OF THB SARACEN, 
 
 Hadji Toussuf, in stopping to arrange some of the baggage, 
 lost his hold of his mule, and in spite of every effort to secure 
 her, the provoking beast kept her liberty for the rest of the 
 day. In vain did we head her off, chase her, coax her, set 
 traps for her : she was too cunning to be taken in, and 
 marched along at her ease, rmming into every field of grain, 
 stopping to crop the choicest bunches of grass, or walking 
 demurely in the caravan, allowing the hadji to come within 
 arm's length before she kicked up her heels and dashed away 
 again. We had a long chase through the clumps of oak and 
 holly, but all to no purpose. The great green gad-flies 
 swarmed around us, biting myself as well as my horse. 
 Hecatombs, crushed by my whip, dropped dead in the dust, 
 but the ranks were immediately filled from some invisible 
 reserve. The soil was no longer bare, but entirely covered 
 with grass and flowers. In one of the valleys I saw a large 
 patch of the crimson larkspur, so thick as to resemble a pool 
 of blood. While crossing a long, hot hill, we came upon a 
 little arbor of stones, covered with pine branches. It inclosed 
 an ancient sarcophagus of marble, nearly filled with water. 
 Beside it stood a square cup, with a handle, rudely hewn out 
 of a piece of pine wood. This was a charitable provision for 
 travellers, and constantly supplied by the Turcomans who lived 
 in the vicinity. 
 
 The last two hours of our journey that day were through a 
 glorious forest of pines. The road lay in a winding glen, green 
 and grassy, and covered to the summits on both sides with 
 beautiful pine trees, intermixed with cedar. The air had the 
 true northern aroma, and was more grateful than wme. Every 
 turn of the glen disclosed a charming woodland view. It was 
 
THE GUARD-HOUSB. 
 
 211 
 
 a wild valley ol the northern hills, filled with the burning 
 lustre of a summer sun, and canopied by the brilliant blue of 
 a summer sky. There were signs of the woodman's axe, and 
 the charred embers of forest camp-fires. I thought of the 
 lovely canadas in the pine forests behind Monterey, and could 
 really have imagined myself there. Towards evening we reached 
 a solitary guard-house, on the edge of the forest. The glen 
 here opened a little, and a stone fountain of delicious water 
 furnished all that we wanted for a camping^place. The house 
 was inhabited by three soldiers ; sturdy, good-humored fellows, 
 who immediately spread a mat in the shade for us and made us 
 some excellent coffee. A Turcoman encampment in the neigh- 
 borhood supplied us with milk and eggs. 
 
 The guardsmen were good Mussulmans, and took us for the 
 same. One of them asked me to let him know when the sun 
 was down, and I prolonged his fast until it was quite dark, 
 when I gave him permission to eat. They all had tolerable 
 stallions for their service, and seemed to live pleasantly enough, 
 in their wild way. The fat, stumpy corporal, with his enor- 
 mously broad pantaloons and automaton legs, went down to 
 the fountain with his musket, and after taking a rest and 
 sighting full five minutes, fired at a dove without hitting it. 
 He afterwards joined us in a social pipe, and we sat on a car- 
 pet at the door of the guard-house, watching the splendid 
 moonrise through the pine boughs. When the pipes had 
 burned out I went to bed, and slept a long, sweet sleep until 
 dawn. 
 
 We knew that the tombs of the Phrygian Kings could not 
 be far off, and, on making inquiries of the corporal, found that 
 he knew the place. . It was not fSur hours distant, by a by-road, , 
 
278 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 and as it would be impossible to reach it without a guide, he 
 would give us one of his men, in consideration of a fee of 
 twenty piastres. The difficulty was evident, in a hilly, wooded 
 country like this, traversed by a labyrinth of valleys and 
 ravines, and so we accepted the soldier. As we were about 
 leaving, an old Turcoman, whose beard was dyed a bright red, 
 came up, saying that he knew Mr. H. was a physician, and 
 could cure him of his deafness. The morning air was sweet 
 with the breath of cedar and pine, and we rode on through the 
 woods and over the open turfy glades, in high spirits. We 
 were in the heart of a mountainous country, clothed with ever- 
 green forests, except some open upland tracts, which showed a 
 thick green turf, dotted all over with park-like clumps, and 
 single great trees. The pines were noble trunks, often sixty 
 to eighty feet high, and with boughs disposed in all possible 
 pictnresqueness of form. The cedar frequently showed a solid 
 white bole, three feet in diameter. 
 
 We took a winding footpath, often a mere track, striking 
 across the hills in a northern direction. Everywhere we met 
 the Turks of the plain, who are now encamped in the moun- 
 tains, to tend their flocks through the summer months. Herds 
 of sheep and goats were scattered over the green pasture-slopes, 
 and the idle herd-boys basked in the morning sun, playing 
 lively airs on a reed flute, resembling the Arabic zumarra. 
 Here and there was a woodman, busy at a recently felled tree, 
 and we met several of the creaking carts of the country, haul- 
 ing logs. All that we saw had a pleasant rural air, a smack 
 of primitive and unsophisticated life. From the higher ridges 
 over which we passed, we could see, far to the east and west, 
 other ranges of pine-covered mountains, gi,nd in the distance 
 
A THEOOMAN VILLAGE. 219 
 
 the cloudy lines of loftier chains. The trunks of the pines 
 were nearly all charred, and many of the smaller trees dead, 
 from the fires which, later in the year, rage in these forests. 
 
 After four hours of varied and most inspiring travel, wo 
 reached a district covered for the most part with oak woods — a 
 more open though stUl mountainous region. There was a sum- 
 mer village of Turks scattered over the nearest slope — ^proba- 
 bly fifty houses in all, almost perfect counterparts of Western 
 log-cabius. They were built of pine logs, laid crosswise, and 
 covered with rough boards. These, as we were told, were the 
 dwellings of the people who inhabit the village of Khosref 
 Pasha Ehan during the winter. Great numbers of sheep and 
 goats were browsing over the hills or lying around the doors 
 of the houses. The latter were beautiful creatures, with heavy, 
 curved horns, and long, white, silky hair, that entirely hid their 
 eyes. We stopped at a house for water, which the man 
 brought out in a little cask. He at first proposed giving us 
 yaourt, and his wife suggested kdimak (sweet curds), which we 
 agreed to take, but it proved to. be only boiled milk. 
 
 Leaving the village, we took a path leading westward, 
 mounted a long hiU, and again entered the pine forests. 
 Before long, we came to a well-built country-house, somewhat 
 resembling a Swiss cottage. It was two stories high, and. 
 there was an upper balcony, with cushioned divans, overlook- 
 ing a thriving garden-patch and some fruit-trees. Three or 
 four men were weeding in the garden, and the owner came up 
 and welcomed us. A fountain of ice-cold water gushed into a 
 stone trough at the door, making a tempting spot for our , 
 breakfast, but we were bent on reaching the tombs. There 
 were convenient out-houses for fowls, sheep, and cattle. The 
 
£80 THE LANDS OF THE SAUACEN. 
 
 herds were oat, grazing along the edges of the forest, and wo 
 heard the shril], joyous melodies of the flutes blown by the 
 herd-boys. 
 
 We now reached a ridge, whence we looked down through 
 the forest upon a long valley, nearly half a mile wide, and bor- 
 dered on the opposite side by ranges of broken sandstone 
 crags. This was the place we sought — the Valley of the 
 Phrygian Tombs. Already we could distinguish the hewn 
 faces of the rocks, and the dark apertures to the chambers 
 within. The bottom of the valley was a bed of glorious 
 grass, blazoned with flowers, and redolent of all vernal 
 smells. Several peasants, finding it too hot to mow, had 
 thrown their scythes along the swarths, and were lying 
 in the shade of an oak. We rode over the new-cut hay, 
 up the opposite side, aW dismounted at the face of the 
 crags. As we approached them, the number of chambers 
 hewn in the rock, the doors and niches now open to the 
 day, surmounted by shattered spires and turrets, gave the 
 whole mass the appearance of a grand fortress in ruins. The 
 crags, which are of a very soft, reddish-gray sandstone, 
 rise a hundred and fifty feet from their base, and their sum- 
 mits are worn by the weather into the most remarkable 
 forms. 
 
 The principal monument is a broad, projecting cliff, one 
 side of which has been cut so as to resemble the fagade of a 
 temple. The sculptured part is about sixty feet high by sixty 
 in breadth, and represents a solid wall with two pilasters 
 at the ends, upholding an architrave and pediment, which 
 is surmounted by two large volutes. The whole face of the 
 wall is covered with ornaments resembling panel-work, not in 
 
SEPULCHRES OF THE PHKTGIAN KINGS. 281 
 
 regular squares, but a labyrinth of intricate designs. In 
 the centre, at the bottom, is a shallow square recess, sur- 
 rounded by an elegant, though plain moulding, but there is no 
 appearance of an entrance to the sepulchral chamber, which 
 may be hidden in the heart of the rock. There is an inscrip- 
 tion in Greek running up one side, but it is of a later date 
 than the work itself. On one of the tombs there is an inscrip- 
 tion : "To King Midas." These relics are supposed to date 
 from the period of the Gordian Dynasty, about seven centu- 
 ries before Christ. 
 
 A little in front of a headland, formed by the summit walls 
 of two meeting vaUeys, rises a mass of rocks one hundred feet 
 high, cut into sepulchral chambers, story above story, with 
 the traces of steps between them, leading to others still higher. 
 The whole rock, which may be a hundred and fifty feet long 
 by fifty feet broad, has been scooped out, leaving but narrow 
 partitions to separate the chambers of the dead. These cham- 
 bers are aU plain, but some are of very elegant proportions, 
 with arched or pyramidal roofs, and arched recesses at the 
 sides, containing sarcophagi hewn in the solid stone. There 
 are also many niches for cinerary urns. The principal tomb 
 had a portico, supported by columns, but the front is now 
 entirely hurled down, and only the elegant panelling and stone 
 joists of the ceiling remain. The entire hill was a succession 
 of tombs. There is not a rook which does not bear traces of 
 them. I might have counted several hundred within a stone's 
 throw. The position of these cuiious remains in a lonely 
 valley, shut in on all sides by dark, pine-covered mountains — 
 two of which are crowned with a natural acropolis of rock, 
 resembling a fortress — ^increases the interest with which they 
 
282 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 inspire the beholder. The valley on the western side, with its 
 bed of ripe wheat in the bottom, its tall walls, towers, and 
 pinnacles of rock, and its distant vista of mountain and forest, 
 is the most picturesque in Phrygia. 
 
 The Turcoman reapers, who came up to see us and talk with 
 us, said that there were the remains of walls on the summit of 
 the principal acropolis opposite us, and that, further up the 
 valley, there was a chamber with two columns in front. 
 Mr. Harrison and I saddled and rode off, passing along 
 a wall of fantastic rock-turrets, at the base of which was 
 a natural column, about ten feet high, and five in diameter, 
 almost perfectly round, and upholding an immense rock, 
 shaped like a cocked hat. In crossing the meadow we saw 
 a Turk sitting in the sun beside a spring, and busily engaged 
 in knitting a stocking. After a ride of two miles we. found 
 the chamber, hewn like the fagade of a temple in an isolated 
 rock, overlooking two valleys of wild meadow-land. The 
 pediment and cornice were simple and beautiful, but the 
 columns had been broken away. The chambers were perfectly 
 plain, but the panel-work on the ceiling of the portico was 
 entire. 
 
 After passing three hours in examining these tombs, we 
 took the track which our guide pointed out as the road to 
 Kiutahya. We rode two hours through the forest, and came 
 out upon a wooded height, overlooking a grand, open valley, 
 rich in grain-fields and pasture land. While I was contemplat- 
 ting this lovely view, the road turned a corner of the ridge, 
 and lo ! before me there appeared (as I thought), above the 
 tops of the pines, high up on the mountain side, a line of enor- 
 mous tenta. Those snow-white cones, uprearing their sharp 
 
THE titan's camp. 283 
 
 spires, and spreading out their broad bases — what could they be 
 but an encampment of monster tents ? Yet no ; they were 
 pinnacles of white rocli — ^perfect cones, from thirty to one hun- 
 dred feet in height, twelve in all, and ranged side by side along 
 the edge of the cliff, with the precision of a military camp. 
 They were snow-white, perfectly smooth and full, and their 
 bases touched. What made the spectacle more singular, there 
 was no other appearance of the same rock on the mountain. 
 All around them was the dark-green of the pines, out of which 
 they rose like drifted horns of unbroken snow. I named tTiis 
 singular phenomenon — which seems to have escaped the 
 notice of travellers — ^The Titan's Camp. 
 
 In another hour we reached a fountain near the village of 
 Kiimbeh, and pitched our tents for the night. The village, 
 which is half a mile in length, is built upon a singular crag, 
 which shoots up abruptly from the centre of the valley, rising 
 at one extremity to a height of more than a hundred feet. It 
 was entirely deserted, the inhabitants having all gone off to 
 the mountains with their herds. The solitary muezzin, who 
 cried the rmtghreb at the close of the fast, and lighted the 
 lamps on his minaret, went through with his work in most 
 unclerical haste, now that there was no one to notice him. We 
 sent Achmet, the katurgee, to the mountain camp of the villa- 
 gers, to procure a supply of fowls and barley. 
 
 We rose very early yesterday morning, shivering in the cold 
 air of the mountains, and just as the sun, bursting through the 
 pines, looked down the little hollow where our tents were 
 pitched, set the caravan in motion. The ride down the valley 
 was charming. The land was naturally rich and highly culti- 
 vated, which made its desertion the more singular. Leagues 
 
284 THE LANDS OF THS SAEACEN. 
 
 of wheat, rye and poppies spread around us, left for the summer 
 warmth to do its silent work. The dew sparkled on the fields 
 as we rpde through them, and the splendor of the flowers in 
 blossom was equal to that of the plains of Palestine. There 
 were purple, white and scarlet poppies ; the rich crimson lark- 
 spur ; the red anemone ; the golden daisy ; the pink convolvu- 
 lus ; and a host of smaller blooms, so intensely bright and 
 dazzling in their hues, that the meadows were richer than a 
 pavement of precious jewels. To look towards the sun, over 
 a field of scarlet poppies, was like looking on a bed of live 
 coals ; the light, striking through the petals, made them burn 
 as with an inward fire. Out of this wilderness of gorgeous 
 color, rose the tall spires of a larger plant, covered with great 
 yellow flowers, while here and' there the snowy blossoms of a 
 clump of hawthorn sweetened the morning air. 
 
 A short distance beyond Kumbeh, we passed another group 
 of ancient tombs, one of which was of curious design. An 
 isolated rock, thirty feet in height by twenty in diameter, was 
 cut so as to resemble a triangular towef , with the apez bevelled. 
 A chamber, containing a sarcophagus, was hewn out of the 
 interior. The entrance was ornamented with double columns 
 in bas-relief, and a pediment. There was another arched 
 chamber, cut directly through the base of the triangle, with a 
 niche on each side, hoUowed out at the bottom so as to form a 
 sarcophagus. 
 
 Leaving these, the last of the Phrygian tombs, we struck 
 across the valley and ascended a high range of hills, covered 
 with pine, to an upland, wooded region. Here we found a 
 sumnjer village of log cabins, scattered over a grassy slope. 
 The people regarded us with some curiosity, and the women 
 
TBK EXILED EFFENDtS. 285 
 
 hastily concealed their faces. Mr. H. rode up to a large new 
 house, and peeped in between the logs. There were several 
 women inside, who started up in great confusion and threw 
 over their heads whatever article was most convenient. An 
 old man, with a long white beard, neatly dressed in a green 
 jacket and shawl turban, came out and welcomed us. I asked 
 for kdimak, which he promised, and immediately brought out a 
 carpet and spread it on the ground.' Then followed a large 
 basin of kaimak, with wooden spoons, three loaves of bread, 
 and a plate of cheese. We seated ourselves on the carpet, and 
 delved in with the spoons, while the old man retired lest his 
 appetite should be provoked. The milk was excellent, nor 
 were the bread and cheese to be despised. 
 
 While we were eating, the Khowagee, or schoolmaster of the 
 community, a genteel little man in a round white turban, came 
 up to inquire of Praugois who we were. " That effendi in the 
 blue dress," said he, " is the Bey, is he not ?" " Tes," said P. 
 " And the other, with the striped shirt and white turban, is a 
 writer ?" [Here he was not far wrong.] " But how is it that 
 the eflendis do not speak Turkish 1" he persisted. " Because," 
 said Pran9ois, " their fathers were exiled by Sultan Mahmoud 
 when they were small children. They have grown up in 
 Aleppo like Arabs, and have not yet learned Turkish ; but 
 God grant that the Sultan may not turn his face away from 
 them, and that they may regain the rank their fathers once had 
 in Stamboul." " God grant it I" replied the Khowagee, 
 greatly interested in the story. By this time we had eaten our 
 full share of the kafmak, which was finished by Fran9ois and 
 the katurgees. The old man now came up, mounted on a 
 dun mare, stating that he was bound for Kiutahya, and was 
 
286 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACKK. 
 
 delighted with the prospect of travelling in such good company. 
 I gave one of his young children some money, as the kaimah 
 was tendered out of pure hospitality, and so we rode off. 
 
 Our new companion was armed to the teeth, having a long gun 
 with a heavy wooden stock and nondescript lock, and a sword 
 of excellent metal. It was, in fact, a weapon of the old Greek 
 empire, and the cross was still enamelled in gold at the root of 
 the blade, in spite of all his efforts to scratch it out. He was 
 something of a fakeer, having made a pilgrimage to Mecca and 
 Jerusalem. He was very inquisitive, plying Prangois with 
 questions about the government. The latter answered that 
 we were not connected with the government, but the old fellow 
 shrewdly hinted that he knew better — ^we were persons of rank, 
 travelling incognito. He was very attentive to us, offering us 
 water at every fountain, although he believed us to be good 
 Mussulmans. We found him of some service as a guide, short- 
 ening our road by taking by-paths through the woods. 
 
 For several hours we traversed a beautifully wooded region 
 of hills. Graceful clumps of pine shaded the grassy knolls, 
 where the sheep and silky-haired goats were basking at rest, 
 and the air was filled with a warm, summer smell, blown from 
 the banks of golden broom. Now and then, from the thickets 
 of laurel and arbutus, a shrill shepherd's reed piped some 
 joyous woodland melody. Was it a Faun, astray among the 
 hills ? Green dells, open to the sunshine, and beautiful as 
 dreams of Arcady, divided the groves of pine. The sky over- 
 head was pure and cloudless, clasping the landscape with its belt 
 of peace and silence. Oh,* that delightful region, haunted by 
 all the bright spii-its of the immortal Grecian Song I Chased 
 away from the rest of the earth, here they have found a home 
 
A PHRYGIAN LANDSCAPE, 287 
 
 — ^here secret altars remain to them from the times that are 
 departed ! 
 
 Out of these woods, we passed into a lonely plain, inclosed 
 by piny hills that brightened in the thin, pure ether. In the 
 distance were some shepherds' tents, and musical goat-bells tin- 
 kled along the edges of the woods. From the crest of a lofty 
 ridge beyond this plain, we looked back over the wild solitudes 
 wherein we had been travelling for two days — long ranges of 
 dark hills, fading away behind each other, with a perspective 
 that hinted of the hidden gulfs between. From the western 
 slope, a still more extensive prospect opened before us. Over 
 ridges covered with forests of oak and pine, we saw the valley of 
 the Pursek, the ancient Thymbrius, stretching far away to the 
 misty line of Keshish Dagh. The mountains behind Kintahya 
 loomed up high and grand, making a fine feature in the middle 
 distance. We caught but fleeting glimpses of the view through 
 the trees ; and then, plunging into the forest again, descended 
 to a cultivated slope, whereon there was a little village, now 
 deserted. The grave-yard beside it was shaded vrith large 
 cedar-trees, and near it there was a fountain of excellent water. 
 " Here," said the old man, " you can wash and pray, and then 
 rest awhile under the trees." Francois excused us by saying 
 that, while on a journey, we always bathed before praying ; 
 but, not to slight his faith entirely, I washed my hands and face 
 before sitting down to our scanty breakfast of bread and 
 water. 
 
 Our path now led down through long, winding glens, over- 
 grown with oaks, from which the wild yellow honeysuckles fell 
 in a shower of blossoms. As we drew near the valley, the old 
 man began to hint that his presence had been of great service 
 
28S 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 to US, and deserved recompense. " God knows," said he to 
 Frangois, "in what corner of the mountains you might now be, 
 if I had not accompanied you." " Oh," replied Francois, "there 
 are always plenty of people among the woods, who would have 
 been equally as kind as yourself in showing us the way." He 
 then spoke of the robbers in the neighborhood, and pointed out 
 some graves by the road-side, as those of persons who had 
 been murdered. " But," he added, "everybody in these parts 
 knows me, and whoever is in company with me is always safe." 
 The Greek assured him that we always depended on ourselves 
 for our safety. Defeated on these tacks, he boldly affirmed 
 that his services were worthy of payment. " But," said Fran- 
 9ois, " you told us at the vUlage that you had business in Kiu- 
 tahya, and would be glad to join us for the sake of having 
 company on the road." " Well, then," rejoined the old fellow, 
 making a last effort, " I leave the matter to your politeness. 
 " Certainly," replied the imperturbable dragoman, "we could 
 not be so impolite as to offer money to a man of your wealth 
 and station ; we could not insult you by giving you alms." 
 The old Turcoman thereupon gave a shrug and a grunt, made 
 a sullen good-by salutation, and left us. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when we reached the Pnrsek. 
 There was no sign of the citj*, but we could barely discern an old 
 fortress on the lofty cliff which commands the town. A long 
 stone bridge crossed the river, which here separates into half a 
 dozen channels. The waters are swift and clear, and wind 
 away in devious mazes through the broad green meadows. We 
 hurried on, thinking we saw minarets in the distance, but they 
 proved to be poplars. The sun sank lower and lower, and 
 finally went down before there was any token of our being in 
 
A-RKIVAIi AT KIUTAHYA. 289 
 
 the vicinity of the city. Soon, howeTor, a line of tiled roofs 
 appeared along the slope of a hiU on onr left, and turning its 
 base, we saw the city before us, filling the mouth of a deep 
 valley or gorge, which opened from the mountains. 
 
 But the horses are saddled, and Frangois tells me it is time 
 to put up my pen. We are off, over the mountains, to the old 
 Greek city of (Ezani, in the valley of the Rhyndacus. 
 
290 THE LANDS 01 lilE SAItACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 KIUTAHTA, AND THE KUIffS OF (EZANI. 
 
 Entrance into Kiutahya— The New Khan— An Unpleaaant Diacovery— Klutahya— The 
 Citadel— Panorama from the Walla — The ^Gorge of the Mountaina — Oamp in a 
 Meadow— The Valley of the Rhyndaona— ChaTdur— The Euins of CEzanI— The Acro- 
 polis and Temple — ^The Theatre and Stadium — Ride down the Valley — Camp at Daghje 
 Eii. 
 
 " There la a temple in ruin stands, 
 Fashioned by long-forgotten hands ; 
 Two or three columns and many a stone, 
 Marble and granite, with graas o'ergrown ! 
 Out upon Time I it will leave no more 
 Of the thinga to come than the things before I" 
 
 Daohjs Eoi, on the Rhyndacus, July 6, 1852. 
 
 On entering Kiutahya, we passed the barracks, which were 
 the residence of Kossuth and his companions in exile. Beyond 
 them, we came to a broad street, down which flowed the vilest 
 stream of filth of which even- a Turkish city could ever boast. 
 The houses on either side were two stories high, the upper 
 part of wood, with hanging balconies, over which shot the 
 eaves of the tiled roofs. The welcome cannon had just 
 sounded, announcing the close of the day's fast. The coffee- 
 shops were already crowded with lean and hungry customers, 
 the pipes were filled and lighted, and the coffee smoked in the 
 finjans. In half a minute such whiiTs arose on all sides as it 
 would have cheered the heart of a genuine smoker to behold. 
 
THE XEW KHAX. 291 
 
 Out 6f these cheerful places we passed into other streets which 
 were entirely deserted, the inhabitants being at dinner. It 
 had a weird, uncomfortable effect to ride through streets 
 where the clatter of our horses' hoofs was the only sound of 
 life. At last we reached the entrance to a bazaar, and near it 
 a khan — a new khan, very neatly built, and witb a spare room 
 so much better than we expected, that we congratulated our- 
 selves heartily. We unpacked in a hurry, and Fran§ois ran 
 off to the bazaar, from which he speedily returned with some 
 roast kid, cucumbers, and cherries. We lighted two lamps, I 
 borrowed the oda-bashi's narghileh, and Frangois, learning that 
 it was our national anniversary, procured us a flask of Greek 
 wine, that we might do it honor. The beverage, however, 
 resembled a mixture of vinegar and sealing-wax, and we con- 
 tented ourselves with drinking patriotic toasts, in two finjans 
 of excellent coffee. But in the midst of our enjoyment, hap- 
 pening to cast my eye on the walls, I saw a sight that turned 
 all our honey into gall. Scores on scores — nay, hundreds on 
 hundreds — of enormous- bed-bugs swarmed on the plaster, and 
 were already descending to our beds and baggage. To sleep 
 there was impossible, but we succeeded in getting possession of 
 one of the outside balconies, where we made our beds, after 
 searching them thoroughly. 
 
 In the evening a merchant, who spoke a little Arabic, came 
 up to me and asked: "Is not your Excellency's friend the 
 luikim pasha ?" (chief physiean). I did not venture to assent, 
 but replied : " No ; he is a sowdlch." This was beyond his 
 comprehension, and he went away with the impression that 
 Mr. H. was much greater than a hahimpatha. I slept soundly 
 on my out-doors bed, but was awakened towards morning by 
 
292 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 two tremendous claps of thunder, echoing in the gorge, afld the 
 rattling of rain on the roof of the khan. 
 
 I spent two or three hours next morning in taking a survey 
 of Kiutahya. The town is much larger than I had supposed : 
 I should judge it to contain from fifty to sixty thousand inhabi- 
 tants. The situation is remarkaWe, and gives a picturesque 
 effect to the place when seen from above, which makes one 
 forget its internal filth. It is built in the mouth of a gorge, 
 and around the bases of the hills on either side. The lofty 
 mountains which rise behmd it supply it with perpetual springs 
 of pure water. At every dozen steps yon come upon a foun- 
 tain, and every large street has a brook in the centre. The 
 houses are all two and many of them three stories high, with 
 hanging balconies, which remind me much of Switzerland. 
 The bazaars are very extensive, covering all the base of the hill 
 on which stands the ancient citadel. The goods displayed were 
 mostly European cotton fabrics, qwiiicailkrie, boots and slippers, 
 pipe-sticks and silks. In the parts devoted to the produce of 
 the country, I saw very fine cherries, cucumbers and lettuce, 
 and bundles of magnificent clover, three to four feet high. 
 
 We climbed a steep path to the citadel, which covers the 
 summit of an abrupt, isolated hill, connected by a shoulder 
 with the great range. The walls are nearly a mile in circuit, 
 consisting almost wholly of immense circular buttresses, placed 
 so near each other that they almost touch. The connecting 
 walls are broken down on the northern side, so that from below 
 the buttresses have the appearance of enormous shattered 
 columns. They are built of rough stones, with regular layers 
 of flat, burnt bricks. On the highest part of the hill stands 
 the fortress, or stronghold, a place which must have been 
 
THE CITADEL OF KIOTAnYA. 293 
 
 almost impregnable before the invention of cannon. The struc 
 ture probably dates from .the ninth or tenth century, but is 
 built on the foundations of more ancient edifices. The old 
 Greek city of Cotyseum (whence Kiutahya) probably stood 
 upon this hill. Within the citadel is an upper town, contain- 
 ing about a hundred houses, the residence, apparently of poor 
 families. 
 
 From the circuit of the walls, on every side, there are grand 
 views over the plain, the city, and the gorges of the moun- 
 tains behind. The valley of the Pursek, freshened by the last 
 night's shower, spread out a sheet of vivid green, to the pine- 
 covered mountains which bounded it on all sides. Around 
 the city it was adorned vrith groves and gardens, and, in the 
 direction of Brousa, white roads went winding away to other 
 gardens and villages in the distance. The mountains of 
 Phrygia, through which we had passed, were the loftiest in 
 tb^ circle that inclosed the valley. The city at our feet pre- 
 sented a thick array of red-tiled roofs, out of which rose here 
 and there the taper shaft of a minaret, or the dome of a 
 mosque or bath. Prom the southern side of the citadel, we 
 looked down into the gorge which supplies Kiutahya with 
 water — a wUd, desert landscape of white crags and shattered 
 peaks of gray rock, hanging over a narrow winding bed of the 
 greenest foliage. 
 
 Instead of taking the direct road to Brousa, we decided to 
 make a detour of two days, in order to visit the ruins of the old 
 Greek city of (Ezani, which are thirty-six miles south of Kiu- 
 tahya. Leaving at noon, we ascended the gorge behind the 
 city, by delightfully embowered paths, at first under the eaves 
 of superb walnut-trees, and then through wild thickets of wil- 
 
294 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 low, hazel, privet, and other shrubs, tangled together with the 
 odorous white honeysuckle. Near the city, the mountain-sides 
 were bflre white masses of gypsum and other rock, in many 
 places with the p irest chrome-yellow hue ; but as we advanced, 
 they were clothed to the summit with copsewood. The streams 
 that foamed down these perennial heights were led into buried 
 channels, to come to light again in sparkling fountains, pouring 
 into ever-full stone basins. The day was cool and cloudy, and 
 the heavy shadows which hung on the great sides of the moun- 
 tain gateway, heightened, by contrast, the glory of the sunUt 
 plain seen through them. 
 
 After passing the summit ridge, probably 6,000 feet above 
 the sea, we came upon a wooded, hilly region, stretching away 
 in long mis^y lines to Murad Dagh, whose head was spotted 
 with snow. There were patches of wheat and rye in the hol- 
 ^lows, and the bells of distant herds tinkled occasionally among 
 the tree3. There was no village on the road, and we were on 
 the way to one which we saw in the distance, when we came 
 upon a meadow of good grass, with a small stream rnnnmg 
 through it. Here we encamped, sending Achmet, the katur- 
 gee, to the village for milk and eggs. The ewes had just been 
 milked for the suppers of their owners, but they went over the 
 flock again, stripping their udders, which greatly improved 
 the quahty of the milk. The night was so cold' that I could 
 scarcely sleep during the morning hours. There was a chill, 
 heavy dew on the meadow ; but when Frangois awoke me at 
 sunrise, the sky was splendidly clear and pure, and the early 
 beams had a little warmth in them. Our coflEee, before start- 
 ing, made with sheep's milk, was the richest I ever drank. 
 
 After riding for two hours across broad, wild ridges, covered 
 
THK EUIN3 OP CEZANI. 295 
 
 with cedar, we reached a height overlooking the valley of the 
 Rhyndacus, or rather the plain whence he draws his sources — 
 a circular level, ten or twelve miles in diameter, and contract- 
 ing towards the west into a narrow dell, through which hia 
 watejs find outlet ; several villages, each embowered in gar- 
 dens, were scattered along the bases of the hiUs that inclose it. 
 We took the wrong road, but were set aright by a herdsman, 
 and after threading a lane between thriving grain-fields, were 
 cheered by the sight of the Temple of CEzani, lifted on its 
 acropolis above the orchards of Chavdiir, and standing out 
 sharp and clear against the purple of the hills. 
 
 Our approach to the city was marked by the blocks of sculp- 
 tured marble that lined the way : elegant mouldings, cornices, 
 and entablatures, thrown together with common stone to make 
 walls between the fields. The vUlage is built on both sides of 
 the Rhyndacus ; it is an ordinary Turkish hamlet, with tiled 
 roofe and chimneys, and exhibits very few of the remains of 
 the old city in its composition. This, I suspect, is owing to 
 the great size of the hewn blocks, especially of the pillars, 
 cornices, and entablatures, nearly all of which are from twelve 
 to fifteen feet long. It is from the size and number of these 
 scattered blocks, rather than from the buildings which stUl 
 partially exist, that one obtains an idea of the size and splen- 
 dor of the ancient (Ezani. The place is filled with fragments, 
 especially of columns, Of which there are several hundred, 
 nearly all finely fluted. The Rhyndacus is still spanned by an 
 ancient bridge of three arches, and both banks are lined with 
 piers of hewn stone. Tall poplars and massy walnuts of the 
 richest green shade the clear waters, and there are many pic- 
 turesque combinations of foKage and rain — death and life — 
 
296 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 which would charm a painter's eye. Near the bridge we 
 stopped to examine a pile of immense fragments which have 
 been thrown together by the Turks — ^pillars, cornices, altars, 
 pieces of a frieze, with bulls' heads bound together by hanging 
 garlands, and a large square block, with a legible tablet^ It 
 resembled an altar in form, and, from the word "Artemidoron," 
 appeared to have belonged to some temple to Diana. 
 
 Passing through the village we came to a grand artificial 
 platform on its western side, called the Acropolis. It is of 
 solid masonry, five hundred feet square, and averaging ten feet 
 in height. On the eastern side it is supported on rude though 
 massive arches, resembling Etruscan workmanship. On the 
 top and around the edges of this platform lie great numbers of 
 fluted columns, and immense fragments of cornice and archi- 
 trave. In the centre, on a foundation platform about eight 
 feet high, stands a beautiful Ionic temple, one hundred feet in 
 length. On approaching, it appeared nearly perfect, except 
 the roof, and so many of the columns remain standing that its 
 ruined condition scarcely injures the effect. There are seventeen 
 columns on the side and eight at the end, Ionic in style, fluted, 
 and fifty feet in height. About half the cella remains, with an 
 elegant frieze and cornice along the top, and a series of tablets, 
 set in panels of ornamental sculpture, running along the sides. 
 The front of the cella includes a small open peristyle, with two 
 composite Corinthian columns at the entrance, making, with 
 those of the outer colonnade, eighteen columns standing. The 
 tablets contain Greek inscriptions, perfectly legible, where the 
 stone has not been shattered. Under the temple there are large 
 vaults, which we found filled up with young kids, who had 
 gone in there to escape the heat of the sun. The portico was 
 
THE THEATRE AND STABIUM. 291 
 
 occupied by sheep, which at first refused to make room for us, 
 and gave strong olfactory evidence of their partiality for the 
 temple as a resting-place. 
 
 On the side of . a hill, about three hundred yards to the 
 north, are the remains of a theatre. Crossing some patches of 
 barley and lentils, we entered a stadium, forming an extension 
 of the theatre — ^that is, it took the same breadth and direction, 
 so that the two might be considered as one grand work, more 
 than one thousand feet long by nearly four hundred wide. 
 The walls of the stadium are hurled down, except an entrance 
 of five arches of massive masonry, on the western side. We 
 rode up the artificial valley, between high, grassy hiUs, com- 
 pletely covered with what at a distance resembled loose boards, 
 but which were actually the long marble seats of the stadium. 
 Urging our horses over pfles of loose blocks, we reached the 
 base of the theatre, climbed the fragments that cumber the 
 main entrance, and looked on the spacious arena and galleries 
 within. Although greatly ruined, the materials of the whole 
 structure remain, and might be put together again. It is a 
 grand wreck ; the colossal fragments which have tumbled from 
 the arched proscenium fill the arena, and the rows of seats, 
 though broken and disjointed, still retain their original order. 
 It is somewhat more than a semicircle, the radius being about 
 one hundred and eighty feet. The original height was upwards 
 of fifty feet, and there were fifty rows of seats in all, 
 each row capable of seating two hundred persons, so that 
 the number of spectators who could be accommodated was 
 eight thousand. 
 
 The fragments cumbering the arena were enormous, and 
 highly interesting from their character. There were rich 
 
 13* 
 
^oo THE LANDS OP THE BARACEN. 
 
 blocks of cornice, ten feet long ; fluted and reeded pUlars ; 
 great arcs of heavily-carved sculpture, wliicli appeared to have 
 served as architrave's from pillar to pillar, along the face of 
 the proscenium, where there was every trace of having been a 
 colonnade ; and other blocks sculptured with figures of ani- 
 mals in alto-relievo. There were generally two figures on each 
 block, and among those which could be recognized were the 
 dog and the lion. Doors opened from the proscenium into the 
 retiring-rooms of the actors, under which were the vaults 
 where the beasts were kept. A young fox ot, jackal started 
 from his siesta as we entered the theatre, and took refuge 
 under the loose blocks. Looking backwards through the 
 stadium from the seats of the theatre, we had a lovely view of 
 the temple, standing out clear and bright in the midst of the 
 summer plain, with the snow-streaked summits of Murad Dagh 
 in the distance. It was a picture which I shall long remem- 
 ber. The desolation of the magnificent ruins was made all 
 the more impressive by the silent, solitary air of the region 
 around them. 
 
 Leaving Chavdiir in the afternoon, we struck northward, 
 down the valley of the Rhyndacus, over tracts of rolling land, 
 interspersed with groves of cedar and pine. There were so 
 many branch roads and crossings that we could not fail to go 
 wrong ; and after two or three hours found ourselves in 
 the midst of a forest, on the broad top of a mountain, without 
 any road at all. There were some herdsmen tending their 
 flocks near at hand, but they could give us no satisfactory 
 direction. W . thereupon took our own course, and soon 
 brought up on the brink of a precipice, overhanging a deep 
 valley. Away to the eastward we caught a glimpse of the 
 
CAMP AT DAGHJE KOI. 299 
 
 Rhyndacus, and tlie wooden minaret of a little village on his 
 banks. Following the edge of the precipice, we came at last 
 to a glen, down which ran a rongh footpath that finally 
 conducted us, by a long road through the forests, to tho 
 village of Daghje Koi, where we are now encamped. 
 
 The place seems to be devoted to the making of flints, and 
 tlie streets are filled with piles of the chipped fragments. Our 
 tent is pitched on the bank of the river, in a barren meadow. 
 The people tell us that the whole region round aboijt has just 
 been visited by a plague of grasshoppers, which have destroyed 
 their crops. Our beasts have wandered off to the hills, 
 in search for grass, and the disconsolate Hadji is hunting 
 them. Achmet, the katurgee, lies near the fire, sick ; Mr. 
 Harrison complains of fever, and Francois moves about lan- 
 guidly, with a dismal countena,nce. So here we are in the soli- 
 tudes of Bithynia, but there^is no God but God, and that 
 which is destined comes to pass. 
 
300 THE LANDS OF THE SABACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV, 
 
 THE MYSIAN OLYMPUS. 
 
 Journey Down the Valley— The Plague of Grasshoppers— A Defile— The Toira of Tan 
 shania— The Camp of Famine— We leave the Ehyndaous— The Base of Olympus- 
 Primeval Forests— The Guard-House— Scenery of the Summit— Forests of Beech- 
 Saw-Mills — ^Descent of the Mountain — ^The View of Olympus — Morning— The Land of 
 Harvest — Aineghiol — A. Showery Ride — The Plain of Brousa — The Structure of Olym- 
 pus — ^We reach Brousa — The Tent is Furled. 
 
 " I looked yet farther and higher^ and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that stood 
 ■ fast, and still against the breeze ; • * * # and so it was as a sigb and a testimony— 
 almost as a call from the neglected gods, tha^ I now saw and acknowledged the snowy 
 crown of the Mysian Olympus 1" Khioueb. 
 
 Bhousa, Jiily 9, 1853. 
 
 Feom Daghje Koi, there were two roads to Taushanlii, but the 
 people informed us that the one which led across the moun- 
 tains was difficult to find, and almost impracticable. We 
 therefore took the river road, which we found picturesque in 
 the highest degree. The narrow dell of the Rhyndacus wound 
 through a labyrinth of mountains, sometimes turning at sharp 
 angles between craggy buttresses, covered with forests, and 
 sometimes broadening out into a sweep of valley, where the 
 villagers were working in companies among the grain and 
 poppy fields. The banks of the stream were lined with oak, 
 willow and sycamore, and forests of pine, descending from the 
 mountains, frequently overhung the road. We met numbers 
 
THE PLAGUE OF GRASSHOPPERS. 301 
 
 of peasants, going to and from the fields, and once a company 
 of some twenty women, who, on seeing us, clustered together 
 like a flock of frightened sheep, and threw their mantles over 
 their heads. They had curiosity enough, however, to peep at 
 us as we went by, and I made them a salutation, which they 
 returned, and then burst into a chorus of hearty laughter. All 
 this region was ravaged by a plague of grasshoppers. The 
 earth was black with them in many places, and our horses 
 ploughed up a living spray, as they drove forward through the 
 meadows. Every spear of grass was destroyed, and the wheat 
 and rye fields were terribly cut up. We passed a large crag 
 where myriads of starlings had built their nests, and every 
 starling had a grasshopper in his mouth. 
 
 We crossed the river, in order to pass a narrow defile, by 
 which it forces its way through the rocky heights of Dumanidj 
 Dagh. Soon after passing the ridge, a broad and beautiful 
 valley expanded before us. It was about ten miles in breadth, 
 nearly level, and surrounded by picturesque ranges of wooded 
 mountains. It was well cultivated, principally in rye and pop- 
 pies, and more thickly populated than almost any part of 
 Europe. The tinned tops of the minarets of Taushanlii shone 
 over the top of a hill in front, and there was a large town 
 nearly opposite, on the other bank of the Rhyndacus, and 
 seven small villages scattered about in various directions. Most 
 of the latter, however, were merely the winter habitations of 
 the herdsmen, who are now living in tents on the mountain 
 tops. All over the valley, the peasants were at work in the 
 harvest-fields, cutting and binding grain, gathering opium from 
 the poppies, or weeding the young tobacco. In the south, over 
 the rim of the hills that shut in this pastoral solitude, rose the 
 
S02 THE LANDS OP THK SAEACEN. 
 
 long blue summits of TJrus Dagh. We rode into Taushanlii, 
 which is a long town, filling up a hollow between two stony 
 hills. The houses are all of stone, two stories high, with tiled 
 roofs and chimneys, so that, but for the clapboarded and 
 shingled minarets, it would answer for a I^orth-German 
 village. 
 
 The streets were nearly deserted, and even in the bazaars, 
 which are of some extent, we found but few persons. Those 
 few, however, showed a laudable curiosity with regard to us, 
 clustering about us whenever we stopped, and staring at 
 us with provoking pertinacity. We had some difficulty in 
 procuring information concerning the road, the directions being 
 so contradictory that we were as much in the dark as ever. 
 We lost half an hour in wandering aniong the Mils ; and, after 
 travelling four hours over piny uplands, without finding the 
 village of Kara Koi, encamped on a dry plain, on the western 
 bank of the river. There was not a spear of grass for the 
 beasts, everything being eaten up by the grasshoppers, and 
 there were no Turcomans near who covdd supply us with food. 
 So we dined on hard bread and black coffee, and our forlorn 
 beasts walked languidly about, cropping the dry stalks of weeds 
 and the juiceless roots of the dead grass. 
 
 We crossed the river next morning, and took a road follow- 
 ing its course, and shaded with willows and sycamores. The 
 lofty, wooded ranges of the Mysian Olympus lay before us, 
 and our day's work was to pass them. After passing the vil- 
 lage of Kara Koi, we left the valley of the Rhyndacus, and 
 commenced ascending one of the long, projecting spurs thrust 
 out from the main chain of Olympus. At first we rode 
 through thickets of scrubby cedar, but soon came to magnifi 
 
PRIMEVAL FORESTS. 303 
 
 cent pine forests, that grew taller and sturdier the higher we 
 clomb. A superb mountain landscape opened behind us. The 
 valleys sank deeper and deeper, and at last disappeared behind 
 the great ridges that heaved themselves out of the wilderness 
 of smaller hills. All these ridges were covered with forests ; 
 and as we looked backwards out of the tremendous gulf up the 
 sides of which we were climbing, the scenery was wholly wUd 
 and uncultivated. Our path hung on the imminent side 
 of a chasm so steep that one slip might have been destruction 
 to both horse and rider. Far below us, at the bottom of the 
 chasm, roared an invisible torrent. The opposite side, vapory 
 from its depth, rose like an immense wall against Heaven. 
 The pines were even grander than those in the woods of 
 Phrygia. Here they grew taller and more dense, hanging 
 their cloudy boughs over the giddy depths, and clutching with 
 desperate roots to the almost perpendicular sides of the gorges. 
 In many places they were the primeval forests of Olympus, 
 and the Hamadryads were not yet frightened from their haunts. 
 Thus, slowly toiling up through the sublime wilderness, 
 breathing the cold, pure air of those lofty regions, we came at 
 last to a little stream, slowly trickling down the bed of the 
 gorge. It was shaded, not by the pine, but by the Northern 
 beech, with its white trunk and close, confidential boughs, 
 made for the talks of lovers and the meditations of poets. 
 Here we stopped to breakfast, but there was nothing for the 
 poor beasts to eat, and they waited for us droopingly, with 
 their heads thrust together. While we sat there thr.ee 
 camels descended to the stream, and after them a guard with 
 a long gun. He was a well-made man, with a brown face, 
 keen^ black eye, and piratical air, and wvuld have made a good 
 
S04 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SABACKN. 
 
 hero of modern romance. Higher up we came to a guard- 
 house, on a little cleared space, surrounded by beech forests. 
 It was a rough stone hut, with a white flag planted ou a polo 
 before it, and a miniature water-wheel, running a miniature 
 saw at a most destructive rate, beside the door. 
 
 Continuing our way, we entered on a region such as I had 
 no idea could be found in Asia. The mountains, from the 
 bottoms of the gorges to their topmost summits, were covered 
 with the most superb forests of beech I ever saw — masses of 
 impenetrable foliage, of the most brilliant green, touched here 
 and there by the darker top of a pine. Oar road was through 
 a deep, dark shade, and on either side, up and down, we saw 
 but a cool, shadowy solitude, sprinkled with dots of emerald 
 light, and redolent with the odor of damp earth, moss, and 
 dead leaves. It was a forest, the counterpart of which could 
 only be found in America — such primeval magnitude of growth, 
 such wild luxuriance, such complete solitude and silence I 
 Through the shafts of the pines we had caught glorious 
 glimpses of the blue mountain world below us ; but now the 
 beech folded us in its arms, and whispered in our ears the 
 legends of our Northern home. There, on the ridges of the 
 Mysian Olympus, sacred to the bright gods of Grecian song, I 
 found the inspiration of our darker and colder clime and age. 
 " O gloriod spiriti degli hoschi !" 
 
 I could scarcely contain myself, from surprise and joy. 
 Fran9ois failed to find French adjectives sufficient for his admi- 
 ration, and even our cheating katurgees were touched by the 
 spirit of the scene. On either side, whenever a glimpse could 
 be had through the boughs, we looked upon leaning walls of 
 trees, whose tall, rounded tops basked in the sunshine, while 
 
THE SUMMIT OF OLYMPUS. 305 
 
 their bases were wrapped in the shadows cast by themselves. 
 Thus, folded over each other like scales, or feathers on a 
 falcon's wing, they clad the mountain. The trees wepe taller, 
 and had a darker and more glossy leaf than the American 
 beech. By and by patches of blue shone between the boughs 
 before us, a sign that the summit was near, and before one 
 o'clock we stood upon the narrow ridge forming the crest of 
 the mountain. Here, although we were between five and six 
 thousand feet above the sea, the woods of beech were a 
 hundred feet in height, and shut out all view. On the 
 northern side the forest scenery is even grander than on the 
 southern. The beeches are magnificent trees, straight as an 
 arrow, and from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet in height. 
 Only now and then could we get any view beyond the shadowj 
 depths sinking below ns, and then it was only to see simUai 
 mountain ranges, buried in foliage, and rolling far behind each 
 other into the distance. Twice, in the depth of the gorge, we 
 saw a saw-mill, turned by the snow-cold torrents. Piles of 
 pine and beechen boards were heaped around them, and the 
 sav?yers were busily plying their lonely business. The axe of 
 the woodman echoed but rarely through the gulfs, though many 
 large trees lay felled by the roadside. The rock, which 
 occasionally cropped out of the soil, was white marble, and 
 there was a shining precipice of it, three hundred feet high, on 
 the opposite side of the gorge. 
 
 After four hours of steady descent, during the last honr of 
 which we passed into a forest entirely of oaks, we reached the 
 first terrace at the base of the mountain. Here, as I was 
 riding in advance of the caravan, I met a company of Turkish 
 ofiBcers, who saluted me with an inclination of the most pro- 
 
306 
 
 THE LAM0S OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 found reverence. I replied with due Oriental gravity, which 
 seemed to justify their respect for when they met -Prangols, 
 who is everywhere looked upon as a Turkish janissary, they 
 asked: "Is not your master a Shekh d-Islam7" "You are 
 - right : he is," answered the unscrupulous Greek. A Shekh 
 el-Islam is a sort of high-priest, corresponding in dignity to a 
 Cardmal in the Roman Catholic Church. It is rather singular 
 that I am generally taken for a Secretary of some kind, or a 
 Moslem priest, while my companion, who, by this time, has 
 assumed the Oriental expression, is supposed to be either medi- 
 cal or military. 
 
 "We had no sooner left the forests and entered the copse- 
 wood which followed, than the blue bulk of Olympus suddenly 
 appeared in the west, towering far into the sky. It is a magni- 
 ficent mountain, with a broad though broken summit, streaked 
 with snow. Before us, stretching away almost to his base, lay 
 a grand mountain slope, covered with orchards and golden 
 harvest-fields. Through lanes of hawthorn and chestnut trees 
 in blossom, which were overgrown with snowy clematis and 
 made a shady roof above our heads, we reached the little 
 village of Orta Koi, and encamped in a grove of pear-trees. 
 There was grass for our beasts, who were on the brink of 
 staxvation, and fowls and cucumbers for ourselves, who had 
 been limited to bread and coffee for two days. But as one 
 necessity was restored, another disappeared. We had smoked 
 the last of our delicious Aleppo tobacco, and that which the 
 villagers gave us was of very inferior quality. Nevertheless, 
 the pipe which we smoked with them in the twilight, beside the 
 marble fountain, promoted that peace of mind which is the 
 sweetest preparative of slumber. 
 
THE LAKD OF HAKVEST. 301 
 
 Fraugois was determined to finish our journey to-day. He 
 had a presentiment that we should reach Brousa, although I 
 expected nothing of the kind. ■ He called us long before the 
 lovely pastoral valley in which we lay had a suspicion of the 
 sun, bat just in time to see the first rays strike the high head 
 of Olympus. The long lines of snow blushed with an opaline 
 radiance against the dark-blue of the morning sky, and all the 
 forests and fields below lay still, and cool, and dewy, lapped in 
 dreams yet unrecalled by the fading moon. I bathed my face 
 in the cold well that perpetually poured over its full brim, 
 drank the coffee which Frangois had already prepared, sprang 
 into the saddle, and began the last day of our long pilgrimage. 
 The tent was folded, alas I for the last time ; and now fare- 
 well to the freedom of our wandering life ! Shall I ever feel 
 it again ? 
 
 The dew glistened on the chestputs and the walnuts, on the 
 wild grape-vines and wild roses, that shaded our road, as we fol- 
 lowed the course of an Olympian stream through a charming 
 dell, into the great plain below. Everywhere the same bounti- 
 ful soil, the same superb orchards, the same ripe fields of wheat 
 and barley, and silver rye. The peasants were at work, men 
 and women, cutting the grain with rude scythes, binding it into 
 sheaves, and stacking it in the fields. As we rode over the 
 plain, the boys came running out to us with handfuls of grain, 
 saluting us from afar, bidding us welcome as pOgrims, wishing 
 us as many years of prosperity as there were kernels in their 
 sheaves, and kissing the hands that gave them the harvest-toll. 
 The whole landscape had an air of plenty, peace, and content- 
 ment. The people all greeted us cordially; and once a Mevlevi 
 Dervish and a stately Turk, riding in company, saluted me so 
 
308 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 respectfully, stopping to speak with me, that I quite regretted 
 being obliged to assume an air of dignified reserve, and ride 
 away from them. 
 
 Ere long, we saw the two white minarets of Aineghiol, 
 above the line of orchards in front of us, and, in three hours 
 after starting, reached the place. It is a small town, not par- 
 ticularly clean, but with brisk-looking bazaars. In one of the 
 houses, I saw half-a-dozen pairs of superb antlers, the spoils 
 of Olympian stags. The bazaar is covered with a trellised 
 roof, overgrown with grape-vines, which hang enormous bunches 
 of young grapes over the shop-boards. We were cheered by 
 the news that Brousa was only eight hours distant, and I now 
 began to hope that we might reach it. We jogged on as fast 
 as we could urge our weary horses, passed another belt of 
 orchard land, paid more harvest-tolls to the reapers, and com- 
 menced ascending a chain of low hills which divides the plain 
 of Aineghiol from that of Brousa. 
 
 At a fountain called the ' ' mid-day konnak," we met some 
 travellers coming from Brousa, who informed us that we could 
 get there by the time of asser prayer. Rounding the north- 
 eastern base of Olympus, we now saw before us the long head- 
 land which forms his south-western extremity. A storm was 
 arising from the sea of Marmora, and heavy white clouds set- 
 tled on the topmost summits of the mountain. The wind began 
 to blow fresh and cool, and when we had reached a height 
 overlooking the deep valley, in the bottom of which lies the 
 picturesque village of Ak-sn, there were long showery lines 
 coming up from the sea, and a filmy sheet of gray rain 
 descended between us and Olympus, throwing his vast bulk far 
 into the background. At Ak-sii, the first shower met us, pou^ 
 
THE PLAIN OF BROUSA. 309 
 
 ing so fast and thick that we were obliged to put on our capotes, 
 and halt under a walnut-tree for shelter. But it soon passed 
 over, laying the dust, for the time, and making the air sweet 
 and cool. 
 
 We pushed forward over heights covered with young forests 
 of oak, which are protected by the government, in order that 
 they may furnish ship-timber. On the right, we looked down 
 into magnificent valleys, opening towards the west into the 
 the plain of Brousa ; but when, in the middle of the afternoon, 
 we reached the last height, and saw the great plain itself, the 
 climax was attained. It was the crown of all that we had yet 
 seen. This superb plain or valley, thirty miles long, by five in 
 breadth, spread away to the westward, between the mighty 
 mass of Olympus on the one side, and a range of lofty moun- 
 tains on the other, the sides of which presented a charming 
 mixture of forest and cultivated land. Olympus, covered with 
 woods of beech and oak, towered to the clouds that concealed 
 his snowy head ; and far in advance, under the last cape he 
 threw out towards the sea, the hundred minarets of Brousa 
 stretched in a white and glittering line, like the masts of a 
 navy, whose hulls were buried in the leafy sea. No words can 
 describe the beauty of the valley, the blending of the richest 
 cultivation with the wildest natural luxuriance. Here were 
 gardens and orchards ; there groves of superb chestnut-trees 
 in blossom ; here, fields of golden grain or green pasture-land ; 
 there. Arcadian thickets overgrown with clematis and wOd 
 rose I here, lofty poplars growing beside the streams ; there, 
 spiry cypresses looking down from the slopes : and all blended 
 in one whole, so rich, so grand, so gorgeous, that I scarcely 
 breathed when it first burst upon me. 
 
310 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 And now we descended to its level, and rode westward along 
 the base of Olympus, grandest of Asian mountains. This 
 after-storm view, although his head was shrouded, was sublime. 
 His base is a vast sloping terrace, leagues in length, resem- 
 bling the flights of steps by which the ancient temples were 
 approached. From this foundation rise four mighty pyramids, 
 two thousand feet in height, and completely mantled with 
 forests. They are very nearly regular in their form and size, 
 and are flanked to the east and west by headlands, or abut- 
 ments, the slopes of which are longer and more gradual, as if 
 to strengthen the great structure. Piled upon the four pyra- 
 mids are others nearly as large, above whose green pinnacles 
 appear still other and higher ones, bare and bleak, and cluster- 
 ing thickly together, to uphold the great central dome of snow. 
 Between the bases of the lowest, the streams which drain the 
 gorges of the mountain issue forth, cutting their way through 
 the foundation terrace, and widening their beds downwards to 
 the plain, like the throats of bugles, where, in winter rains, 
 they pour forth the hoarse, grand monotone of their Olympian 
 music. These broad beds are now dry and stony tracts, dotted 
 all over with clumps of dwarfed sycamores and threaded by 
 the summer streams, shrunken in bulk, but still swift, cold, and 
 clear as ever. 
 
 We reached the city before night, and Franjois is glad to 
 find his presentiment fnlfiUed. We have safely passed through 
 the untravelled heart of Asia Minor, and are now almost in 
 sight of Europe. The camp-fire is extinguished ; the tent is 
 furled. We are no longer happy nomads, masquerading in 
 Moslem garb. We shall soon become prosaic Christians, and 
 meekly hold out our wrists for the handcuffs of Civilization. 
 
THE TENT 13 FUELED. ' 811 
 
 Ah, prate as we will of the progress of the race, we are but 
 forging additional fetters, unless we preserve that healthy phy- 
 sical development, those pure pleasures of mere animal exist- 
 ence, which are now only to be found among our semi-barbario 
 brethren. Our progress is nervous, when it should be mus- 
 cular. 
 
°^^ THE LANDS OF THE SAHACKf. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BKOirSA AND THE SEA OP MARMORA. 
 
 The Oily of BroHsa-Return to OiTflitation-Slorm-TheKalpulcIia Hammam-A Hoi 
 Bath— A Toretaste of Paradise— The Streets and Bazaars of Brousa— The Mos(jiie— 
 The Tom|)3 of the Ottoman Sultans— Disappearance of the Katurgecs— We start for 
 Moudania— The Sea of Marmora— Moudania— Passport Difflculties- A Oreek Oalque 
 —Breakfast with the Fishermen- A Torrid Voyage— The Princes' Islands— Prhiklpo— 
 Distant View of Constantinople— We enter the Qolden Horn. 
 
 " And we glode fast o'er a pellucid plain 
 Of waters, azure with the noontide ray. 
 Ethereal mountains shone around — a fane 
 Stood In the midst, beyond green Isles which lay 
 On the blue, sunny deep, resplendent far away." 
 
 Shsixet. 
 
 CONSTAgTiNOPLB, Monday, JiOy 12, 1851 
 
 Before entering Brousa, we passed the whole length of the 
 town, which is built on the side of Olympus, and on three 
 bluffs or spurs which project from it. The situation is more 
 picturesque than that of Damascus, and from the remarkable 
 number of its white domes and minarets, shooting upward from 
 the groves of chestnut, wahiut, and cypress-trees, the city is 
 even more beautiful. There are krge mosques on all the most 
 prominent points, and, near the centre of the city, the ruins of 
 an ancient castle, built upon a crag. The place, as we rode 
 along, presented a shifting diorama of delightful views. The 
 hotel is at the extreme western end of the city, not far from its 
 
RETURN TO CIVILIZATION — STORM. 813 
 
 celebrated hot baths. It is a new building, in European style, 
 and being buUt high on the slope, commands one of the most 
 glorious prospects I ever enjoyed from windows made with 
 bands. What a comfort it was to go up stairs into a clean, 
 bright, cheerful room ; to drop at full length on a broad divan ; 
 to eat a Christian meal ; to smoke a narghileh of the softest 
 Persian tobacco ; and finally, most exquisite of all luxuries, to 
 creep between cool, clean sheets, on a curtained bed, and find 
 it impossible to sleep on account of the delicious novelty of the 
 sensation ! 
 
 At night, another storm came up from the Sea of Marmora. 
 Tremendous peals of thunder echoed in the gorges of Olympus 
 and sharp, broad flashes of lightning gave us blinding glimpses 
 of the glorious plain below. The rain fell in heavy showers, 
 but our tent-life was just closed, and we sat securely at our 
 windows and enjoyed the sublime scene. 
 
 The sun, rising over the distant mountains of Isnik, shone 
 fall in my face, awaking me to a morning view of the valley, 
 which, freshened by the night's thunder-storm, shone wonder- 
 fully bright and clear. After coffee, we went to see the baths, 
 which are on the side of the mountain, a mile from the hotel. 
 The finest one, called the Kalputcha Hammam, is at the base 
 of the hill. The entrance hall is very large, and covered by two 
 lofty domes. In the centre is a large marble urn-shaped foun- 
 tain, pouring oat an abundant flood of cold water. Out of 
 this, we passed into an immense rotunda, filled with steam and 
 traversed by long pencils of light, falling from holes in the roof. 
 A small but very beautiful marble fountain cast up a jet of cold 
 water in the centre. Beyond this was still another hall, of the 
 same size, bat with a circular basin, twenty-five fegt in diama- 
 
 14 
 
314 THE LANDS OF. THE SARACEN. 
 
 ter, in the centre. The floor was marble mosaic, and the basin 
 was lined with brilliantly-colored tiles. It was kept constantly 
 fall by the natural hot streams of the mountain. There were 
 a number of persons in the pool, but the atmosphere was so 
 hot that we did not long disturb them by our curiosity. 
 
 We then ascended to the Armenian bath, which is the 
 neatest of all, but it was given up to the wOmen, and we were 
 therefore obliged to go to a Turkish one adjoining. The room 
 into which we were taken was so hot that a violent perspirar 
 tion immediately broke out all over my body, and by the time 
 the deUiks were ready to rasp me, I was as limp as a wet towel, 
 and as plastic as a piece of putty. The man who took me was 
 sweated away almost to nothing ; his very bones appeared to 
 have become soft and pliable. The water was slightly sulphu- 
 reous, and the pailfuls which he dashed over my head were so 
 hot that they produced the effect of a chill— a violent nervous 
 shudder. The temperature of the springs is 180° Fahrenheit, 
 and I suppose the tank into which he afterwards plunged me 
 must have been nearly up to the mark. When, at last, I was 
 laid on the couch, my body was so parboiled that I perspired 
 at all pores for full an hour — a feeling too warm and unpleasant 
 at first, but presently merging into a mood which was wholly 
 rapturous and heavenly. I was like a soft white cloud, that 
 rests all of a summer afternoon on the peak of a distant moun- 
 tain. I felt the couch on which I lay no more than the cloud 
 might feel the cliffs on which it lingers so airily. I saw 
 nothing but peaceful, glorious sights ; spaces of clear blue 
 sky ; stretches of quiet lawns ; lovely valleys threaded by the 
 gentlest of streams ; azure lakes, unruffled by a breath ; 
 calms far out on mid-ocean, and Alpine peaks bathed in the 
 
THE STREETS OF BEOOSA,' 315 
 
 flush of an autumnal sunset. My mind retraced all our jout" 
 ney from Aleppo, and there was a halo over every spot I had 
 visited. I dwelt with rapture on the piny hills of Phrygia, on 
 the gorges of Taurus, on the beechen solitudes of Olympus. 
 Would to heaven that I might describe those scenes as I then 
 felt them 1 All was revealed to me : the heart of Nature^ay 
 bare, and I read the meaning and knew the inspiration of her 
 every mood. Then, as my frame grew cooler, and the fragrant 
 clouds of the narghileh, which had helped my dreams, dimin- 
 ished, I was like that same summer cloud, when it feels a 
 gentle breeze and is lifted above the hills, floating along inde- 
 pendent of Earth, but for its shadow. 
 
 Brousa is a very long, straggling place, extending for three 
 or four miles along the side «f the mountain, but presenting a 
 very picturesque appearance from every point. The houses 
 are nearly all three stories high, built of wood and unburnt 
 bricks, and each story projects over the other, after the manner 
 of German towns of the Middle Ages. They have not the 
 hanging balconies which I have found so quaint and pleasing 
 in Kiutahya. But, especially in the Greek quarter, many of 
 them are plastered and painted of some bright color, which 
 gives a gay, cheerful appearance to the streets. Besides, 
 Brousa is the cleanest Turkish town I have seen. The moun- 
 tain streams traverse most of the streets, and every heavy rain 
 washes them out thoroughly. The whole city has a brisk, 
 active air, and the workmen appear both more skilful and 
 more industrious than in the other parts of Asia Minor. I 
 noticed a great many workers in copper, iron, and wood, and 
 an extensive manufactory of shoes and saddles. Brousa, how- 
 ever, is principally noted for its silks, which are produced in 
 
816 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEX. 
 
 this valley, and others to the South and East. The manufac- 
 tories are near the city. I looked over some of the fabrics in 
 the bazaars, but found them nearly all imitations of European 
 stuffs, woven in mixed silk and cotton, and even more costly 
 than the silks of Damascus. 
 
 We passed the whole length of the bazaars, and then, 
 turning up one of the side streets on our right, crossed a 
 deep ravine by a high stone bridge. Above and below 
 us there were other bridges, under which a stream flowed 
 down from the , mountains. Thence we ascended the height, 
 whereon stands the largest and one of the oldest mosques in 
 Brousa. The position is remarkably fine, commanding a view 
 of nearly the whole city and the plain below it. We entered 
 the court-yard boldly, Eran90is taking the precaution to speak 
 to me only in Arabic, as there was a Turk within. Mr. H. 
 went to the fountain, washed his hands and face, but did not 
 dare to swallow a drop, putting on a most dolorous expression 
 of countenance, as if perishing with thirst. The mosque was 
 a plain, square building, with a large dome and two minarets. 
 The door was a rich and curious specimen of the stalactitic 
 style, so frequent in Saracenic buildings. We peeped into the 
 windows, and, although the mosque, which does not appear to 
 be in common use, was darkened, saw enough to show that the 
 interior was quite plain. 
 
 Just above this edifice stands a large octagonal tomb, sur- 
 mounted by a dome, and richly adorned with arabesque cornices 
 and coatings of green and blue tiles. It stood in a small gar- 
 den inclosure, and there was a sort of porter's lodge at the 
 entrance. As we approached, an old gray-bearded man in a 
 green turban came out, and, on Fran9ois requesting entrance 
 
THE TOMBS OP THE OTTOMAN SULTANS. 317 
 
 for us, took a key and conducted us to the building. He had 
 not the slightest idea of our being Christians. We took off 
 our slippers before touching the lintel of the door, as the place 
 was particularly holy. Then, throwing open the door, the old 
 man lingered a few moments after we entered, so as not to dis- 
 turb our prayers — a mark of great respect. We advanced to 
 the edge of the parapet, turned our faces towards Mecca, and 
 imitated the usual Mohammedan prayer on entering a mosque, 
 by holding both arms outspread for a few moments, then bring- 
 ing the hands together and bowing the face upon them. This 
 done, we leisurely examined the building, and the old man was 
 ready enough to satisfy our curiosity. It was a nich and ele- 
 gant structure, lighted from the dome. The walls were lined 
 with brilliant tiles, and had an elaborate cornice, with Arabic 
 inscriptions in gold. The floor was covered with a carpet, 
 whereon stood eight or ten ancient coffins, surrounding a larger 
 one which occupied a raised platform in the centre. They were 
 all of wood, heavily carved, and many of them entirely covered 
 with gilded inscriptions. These, according to the old man, 
 were the coffins of the Ottoman Sultans, who had reigned at 
 Brousa previous to the taking of Constantinople, with some 
 members of their families. There were four Sultans, among 
 whom were Mahomet I., and a certain Achmet. Orchan, the 
 founder of the Ottoman dynasty, is buried somewhere in 
 Brousa, and the great central coffin may have been his. Fran- 
 5ois and I talked entirely in Arabic, and the old man asked 
 " Who are these Hadjis f" whereupon F. immediately answered : 
 " They are Effendis from Baghdad." 
 
 We had intended making the ascent of Olympus, but the 
 Bummit was too thickly covered with clouds. On the morning 
 
318 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 of the second day, therefore, we determined to take up the line 
 of march for Constantinople. The last scene of our strange, 
 eventful history with the katurgees had just transpired, by 
 their deserting us, being two hundred piastres in our debt. 
 They left their khan on the afternoon after our arrival, ostensi- 
 bly for the purpose of taking their beasts out to pasture, and 
 were never heard of more. We let them go, thankful that 
 they had not played the trick sooner. We engaged fresh 
 horses for Moudania, on the Sea of Marmora, and dispatched 
 Franjois in advance, to procure a caique for Constantinople, 
 while we waited to have our passports signed. But after 
 waiting an hour, as there was no appearance of the precious 
 documents, we started the baggage also, under the charge of a 
 surroudjee, and remained alone. Another hour passed by, and 
 yet another, and the Bey was still occupied in sleeping off his 
 hunger. Mr. Harrison, in desperation, went to the office, and 
 after some delay, received the passports with a vise, but not, as 
 we afterwards discovered, the necessary one. 
 
 It was four o'clock by the time we left Brousa. Our horses 
 were stiff, clumsy pack-beasts ; but, by dint of whips and the 
 sharp shovel-stirrups, we forced them into a trot and made 
 them keep it. The road was well travelled, and by asking 
 everybody we met : "Bov, y6l Moudania yedermi 1" (" Is this 
 the way to Moudania?"), we had no difficulty in finding it. 
 The plain in many places is marshy, and traversed by several 
 streams. A low range of hills stretches across, and nearly 
 closes it, the united waters finding their outlet by a narrow- 
 valley to the north. From the top of the hill we had a grand 
 view, looking back over the plain, with the long line of Brousa's 
 minarets glittering through the interminable groves at the fool 
 
THE SEA OF MARMORA. 319 
 
 of the mountain Olympus now showed a superb outline ; the 
 clouds hung about his shoulders, but his snowy head was 
 bare. Before us lay a broad, rich valley, extending in front to 
 the mountains of Moudania. The country was well cultivated, 
 with large farming establishments here and there. 
 
 The sun was setting as we reached the summit ridge, where 
 stood a little guard-house. As we rode over the crest, Olym- 
 pus disappeared, and the Sea of Marmora lay before us, spread- 
 ing out from the Gulf of Moudania, which was deep and blue 
 among the hills, to an open line against the sunset. Beyond 
 that misty line lay Europe, which I had not seen for nearly 
 nine months, and the gulf below me was the bound of my tent 
 and saddle life. But one hour more, old horse I Have pati- 
 ence with my Ethiopian thong, and the sharp corners of my 
 Turkish stirrups : but one hour more, and I promise never to 
 molest you again I Our path was downward, and I marvel 
 that the poor brute did not sometimes tumble headlong with 
 me. He had been too long used to the pack, however, and his 
 habits were as settled as a Turk's. We passed a beautiful 
 village in a valley on the right, and came into olive groves and 
 vineyards, as the dusk was creeping on. It was a lovely 
 country of orchards and gardens, with fountains spouting by 
 the wayside, and country houses perched on the steeps. In 
 another hour, we reached the sea-shore. It was now nearly 
 dark, but we could see the tower of Moudania some distance to 
 the west. 
 
 Still in a continual trot, we rode on ; and as we drew near 
 Mr. H. fired his gun to announce our approach. At the 
 entrance of the town, we found the sourrudjee waitino- to con- 
 duct us. We clattered through the rough streets for what 
 
320 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 seemed an endless length of time. The Ramazan gun bad jast 
 fired, the minarets were illuminated, and the coffee-houses were 
 filled with people. Finally, Francois, who had been almost in 
 despair at our non-appearance, hailed us with the welcome 
 news that he had engaged a caique, and that our baggage was 
 abeady embarked. We only Beeded the vises of the authori- 
 ties, in order to leave. He took our teskeres to get them, and 
 we went upon the balcony of a coffee-house overhanging the 
 sea, and smoked a narghileh. 
 
 But here there was another history. The tesker6s had not 
 been properly vised at Brousa, and the Governor at first 
 decided to send us back. Taking Franjois, however, for a 
 Turk, and finding that we had regnkrly passed quarantine, he 
 signed them after a delay of an hour and a half, and we left 
 the shore, weary, impatient, and wolfish with twelve hours? 
 fasting. A cup of Brousan beer and a piece of bread brought 
 ua into a better mood, and I, who began to feel sick from the 
 rolling of the caique, lay down on my bed, which was spread 
 at the bottom, and found a kind of uneasy sleep. The sail was 
 hoisted at first, to get us across the mouth of the Gulf, but 
 soon the Greeks took to their oai-s. They were silent, how- 
 ever, and though I only slept by fits, the night wore away 
 rapidly. As the dawn was deepening, we ran into a little 
 bight in the northern side of a promontory, where a picturesque 
 Greek village stood at the foot of the mountains. The houses 
 were of wood, with balconies overgrown with grape-vines, and 
 there was a fountain of cold, excellent water on the very beach. 
 Some Greek boatmen were smoking in the portico of a eaf6 on 
 shore, and two fishermen, who had been out before dawn to 
 catch sardines, were emptying their nets of the spoil. Our 
 
A TOEBI0 VOYAGE. 321 
 
 men kindled a fire on the sand, and roasted us a dish of the 
 fish. Some of the last night's hunger remained, and the meal 
 had enough of that seasoning to be delicious. 
 
 After giving our men an hour's rest, we set off for the 
 Princes' Islands, which now appeared to the north, over the 
 glassy plain of the sea. The Gulf of Iskmid, or Nicomedla, 
 opened away to the east, between two mountain headlands. 
 The morning was intensely hot and sultry, and but for the pro- 
 tection of an umbrella, we should have suffered greatly. There 
 was a fiery blue vapor on the sea, and a thunder-cloud hid the 
 shores of Thrace. Now and then came a light puff of wind, 
 whereupon the men would ship the little mast, and crowd on 
 an enormous quantity of sail. So, sailing and rowing, we 
 neared the islands with the storm, but it advanced slowly 
 enough to allow a sight of the mosques of St. Sophia and Sul- 
 tan Achmed, gleaming far and white, like icebergs astray on a 
 torrid sea. Another cloud was pouring its rain over the Asian 
 shore, and we made haste to get to the landing at Prinkipo 
 before it could reach us. From the south, the group of islands 
 is not remarkable for beauty. Only four of them — Prinkipo, 
 Chalki, Prote, and Antigone — are inhabited, the other five 
 being merely barren rocks. 
 
 There is an ancient convent on the summit of Prinkipo, 
 where the Empress Irene — the contemporary of Charlemagne — 
 is buried. The town ia on the northern side of the island, and 
 consists mostly of the summer residences of Greek and Arme- 
 nian merchants. Many of these are large and stately houses, 
 surrounded with handsome gardens. The streets are shaded 
 with sycamores, and the number of coffee-houses shows that 
 the place is much frequented on festal days. A company of 
 14* 
 
322 TUE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 drunken Greeks were singing in violation of all metre and har- 
 mony — a discord the more remarkable, since nothing could bo 
 more affectionate than their conduct towards each other. 
 Nearly everybody was in Prank costume, and our Oriental 
 habits, especially the red Tartar boots, attracted much obser- 
 vation. I began to feel awkward and absurd, and longed to 
 show myself a Christian once more. 
 
 Leaving Prinkipo, we made for Constantinople, whose long 
 array of marble domes and gilded spires gleamed like a far 
 mirage over the waveless sea. It was too faint and distant 
 and dazzling to be substantial. It was like one of those imagi- 
 nary cities which we build in a cloud fused in the light of the 
 setting sun. But as we neared the point of Chalcedon, running 
 along the Asian shore, those airy piles gathered form and sub- 
 stance. The pinnacles of the Seraglio shot up from the midst 
 of cypress groves ; fantastic kiosks lined the shore ; the mina- 
 rets of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmed rose more clearly against 
 the sky; and a fleet of steamers and men-of-war, gay with flags, 
 marked the entrance of the Golden Horn. We passed the 
 little bay where St. Chrysostom was buried, the point of Chal- 
 cedon, and now, looking up the renowned Bosphorus, saw the 
 Maiden's Tower, opposite Scutari. An enormous pile, the 
 barracks of the Anatolian soldiery, hangs over the high bank, 
 and, as we row abreast of it, a fresh breeze comes up from the 
 Sea of Marmora. The prow of the caique is turned across the 
 stream, "the sail is set, and we glide rapidly and noiselessly over 
 the Bosphorus and into the Golden Horn, between the banks 
 of the Prank and Moslem — Pera and Stamboul. Where on 
 the earth shall we find a panorama more magnificent ? 
 
 The air was filled with the shouts and noises of the great 
 
WE ENTEE THE GOLDEN HORN. 323 
 
 Oriental metropolis ; the water was alive with caiques^ and 
 little steamers ; and all the world of work and trade, which 
 had grown almost to be a fable, welcomed us back to its rest- 
 less heart. We threaded our rather perilous way over the 
 populous waves, and landed in a throng of Custom-Houso 
 ofBeera and porters, on the wharf at Galata. 
 
324 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE NIGHT OF PREDESTINATION. 
 
 Constantinople in Eamaian— The Origin of the Past— Nightly Illuminations— The Night 
 of Predestination — The Golden Horn at Night— Ulumination of the Shores— The 
 Cannon of Constantinople— A Fiery Panorama — The Sultan's Oal'que — Close of the 
 Celebration — ^A Turkish Mob — The Dancing Dervishes. 
 
 " Sliies full of splendid moons and shooting stars, 
 And spouting exhalations, diamond fires." Eeats. 
 
 CoHBTiHTufOPiE, WedMeacLoy, Jj%14, 1862. 
 
 Constantinople, during the month of Ramazan, presents a 
 very different aspect from Constantinople at other times. The 
 city, it is true, is much more stern and serious during the day ; 
 there is none of that gay, careless life of the Orient which you 
 see in Smyrna, Cairo, and Damascus ; but when once the sun- 
 set gun has fired, and the painful fast is at an end, the picture 
 changes as if by magic. In all the outward symbols of their 
 religion, the Mussulmans show their joy at being relieved from 
 what they consider a sacred duty. During the day, it is quite 
 a science to keep the appetite dormant, and the people not only 
 abstain from eating and drinking, but as much as possible from 
 the sight of food. In the bazaars, you see the famished mer- 
 chants either sitting, propped back against their cushions, with 
 the shawl about their stomachs, tightened so as to prevent the 
 void under it from being so sensibly felt, or lying at full length 
 
THE ORIGIN OP EAMAZAN. 325 
 
 in the vain attempt to sleep. It is whispered here that many 
 of the Turks will both eat and smoke, when there is no chance 
 of detection, but no one would dare infringe the fast in public. 
 Most of the mechanics and porters are Armenians, and the 
 boatmen are Greeks. 
 
 I have endeavored to ascertain the origin of this fast mouth 
 The Syrian Christians say that it is a mere imitation of an 
 incident which happened to Mahomet. The Prophet, having 
 lost his camels, went day after day seeking them in the Desert, 
 taking no nourishment from the time of his departure in the 
 morning until his return at sunset. After having sought them 
 thus daily, for the period of one entire moon, he found them, 
 and in token of joy, gave a three days' feast to the tribe, now 
 imitated in the festival of Bairam, which lasts for three days 
 after the close of Ramazan. This reason, however, seems too 
 trifling for such a rigid fast, and the Turkish tradition, that the 
 Koran was sent down from heaven dnriag this month, offers a 
 more probable explanation. During the fast, the Mussulmans, 
 as is quite natural, are much more faiiatical than at other 
 times. They are obliged to attend prayers at the mosque 
 every Jiight, or to have a $iollah read the Koran to them at 
 their own houses. All the prominent features of their religion 
 are kept constantly before their eyes, and their natural aver- 
 sion to the Giaour, or Infidel, is increased tenfold. I have 
 heard of several recent instances in which strangers have been 
 exposed to insults and indignities. 
 
 At dusk the minarets are illuminated ; a peal of cannon from 
 the Arsenal, echoed by others from the forts along the Bos- 
 phorua, relieves the suffering followers of the Prophet, and after 
 an hour of silence, during which they are all at home, feast- 
 
326 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 ing, the streets are filled with noisy crowds, and every coffee- 
 shop is thronged. Every night there are ijlnminations along 
 the water, which, added to the crowns of light sparkling on 
 the hundred minarets and domes, give a magical effect to the 
 night view of the city. Towards midnight there is again a 
 season of comparative quiet, most of the inhabitants having 
 retired to rest ; but, about two hours afterwards a watchman 
 comes along with a big drum, which he beats lustily before the 
 doors of the Faithful, in order to arouse them in time to eat 
 again before the daylight-gun, which announces the conunence- 
 ment of another day's fast. 
 
 Last night was the holiest night of Islam, being the twenty- 
 fifth of the fast. It is called the Leikt-d-Kadr, or Night of the 
 Predestination, the anniversary of that on which the Koran was 
 miraculously communicated to the Prophet. On this night 
 the Sultan, accompanied by his whole suite, attends service at 
 the mosque, and on his return to the Seraglio, the Sultana 
 Valide, or SultanarMother, presents him with a virgin from one 
 of the noble families of Constantinople. Formerly, St. Sophia 
 was the theatre of this celebration, but this year the Sultan 
 chose the Mosque of Tophaneh, which stands on the shore — 
 probably as being nearer to his imperial palace at Beshiktashe, 
 on the Bosphorus. I consider myself fortunate in having 
 reached Constantinople in season to witness this ceremony, and 
 the illumination of the Golden Horn, which accompanies it. 
 
 After sunset the mosques crowning the hills of Stamboul, the 
 mosque of Tophaneh, on this side of the water, and the Turkish 
 men-of-war and steamers afloat at the mouth of the Golden 
 Horn, began to blaze with more than their usual brilliance. 
 The outlines of the minarets and domes were drawn in light on 
 
THE GOLDEN HOEN AT NIGHT. 32T 
 
 the deepening gloom, and the masts and yards of the vessel 
 were hung with colored lanterns. Prom the battery in front 
 of the mosque and arsenal of Tophaneh a blaze of intense light 
 streamed out oyer the water, illuminating the gliding forms of 
 a thousand caiques, and the dark hulls of the vessels lying at 
 anchor. Th& water is the best place from which to view the 
 illumination, and a party of us descended to the landing-place. 
 The streets of Tophaneh were crowded with swarms of Turks, 
 Greeks and Armenians. The square around the fountain was 
 brilliantly lighted, and venders of sherbet and kaimak were 
 ranged along the sidewalks. In the neighborhood of the 
 mosque the' crowd was so dense that we could with difficulty 
 make our way through. All the open space next the water was 
 filled up with the clumsy arahas, or carriages of the Turks, in 
 which sat the wives of the Pashas and other dignitaries. 
 
 We took a caique, and were soon pulled out into the naidst of 
 a multitude of other caiques, swarming all over the surface of 
 the Golden Horn. The view from this point was strange, 
 fantastic, yet inconceivably gorgeous. In front, three or four 
 large Turkish frigates lay in the Bosphorus, their hulls and 
 spars outlined in fire against the dark hills and distant twink- 
 ling lights of Asia. Looking to the west, the shores of the 
 Golden Horn were equally traced by the multitude of lamps 
 that covered them, and on either side, the hills on which the 
 city is built rose from the water— masses of dark buildings, 
 dotted all over with shafts and domes of the most brilliant 
 light. The gateway on Seraglio Point was illuminated, as well 
 as the quay in front of the mosqw of Tophaneh, all the can- 
 nons of the battery being covered with lamps. The commonest 
 objects shared in the splendor, oven a large lever used for 
 
328 THE UA.NDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 hoisting goods being hung with lanterns from top to bottom, 
 The mosque was a mass of light, and between the tall minarets 
 flanking it, burned the inscription, in Arabic characters, " Long 
 life to you, O our Sovereign 1" 
 
 The discharge of a cannon announced the Sultan's departure 
 from his palace, and immediately the guns on the frigates and 
 the batteries on both shores took up the salute, till the grand 
 echoes, filling the hollow throat of the Golden Horn, crashed 
 from side to side, striking the hills of Scutari and the point of 
 Chalcedon, and finally dying away among the summits of the 
 Princes' Islands, out on the Sea of Marmora. The hulls of the 
 frigates were now lighted up with intense chemical fires, and 
 an abundance of rockets were spouted from their decks. A 
 large Drummond light on Seraglio Point, and another at the 
 Battery of Tophaneh, poured their rival streams across the 
 Golden Horn, revealing the thousands of caiques jostling each 
 other from shore to shore, and the endless variety of gay cos- 
 tumes with which they were filled. The smoke of the cannon 
 hanging in the air, increased the effect of this illumination, and 
 became a screen of auroral brightness, through which the 
 superb spectacle loomed with large and unreal features. It 
 was a picture of air — a phantasmagoric spectacle, built of 
 luminous vapor and meteoric fires, and hanging in the dark 
 round of space. In spite of ourselves, we became eager and 
 excited, half fearing that the whole pageant would dissolve the 
 next moment, and leave no trace behind. 
 
 Meanwhile, the cannon thundered from a dozen batteries, and 
 the rockets burst into glittering rain over our heads. Grander 
 discharges I never heard ; the earth shook and trembled under 
 the mighty bursts of sound, and the reverberation which rat- 
 
ILLUMINATION OF THE SHORES. 329 
 
 tied along the hill of Galata, broken by the scattered buildings 
 into innumerable fragments of sound, resembled the crash of a 
 thousand falling houses. The distant echoes from Asia and the 
 islands in the sea filled up the -pauses between the nearer peals, 
 and we seemed to be in the midst of some great naval engage- 
 ment. But now the caique of the Sultan is discerned, approach- 
 ing from the Bosphorns. A signal is given, and a sunrise of 
 intense rosy and golden radiance suddenly lights up the long 
 arsenal and stately mosque of Tophaneh, plays over the tall 
 buildings on the hill of Pera, and falls with a fainter lustre on 
 the Genoese watch-tower that overlooks Galata. It is inipos- 
 sible to describe the effect of this magical illumination. The 
 mosque, -with its taper minarets, its airy galleries, and its great 
 central dome, is built of compact, transparent flame, and in the 
 shifting of the red and yellow fires, seems to flicker and waver 
 in the air. It is as. lofty, and gorgeous, and unsubstantial as 
 the cloudy palace in Cole's picture of " Youth." The long 
 white front of the arsenal is fused in crimson heat, and burns 
 against the dark as if it were one mass of living coal. And 
 over all hangs the luminous canopy of smoke, redoubling its 
 lustre on the waters of the Golden Horn, and mingling with 
 the phosphorescent gleams that play around the oars of the 
 caiques. 
 
 A long barge, propeHed by sixteen oars, glides around the 
 dark corner of Tophaneh, and shoots into the clear, brilKant 
 space in front of the mosque. It is not lighted, and passes 
 with great swiftness towards the brilliant landing-place. There 
 are several persons seated under a canopy in the stern, and we 
 are trying to decide which is the Sultan, when a second boat, 
 driven by twenty-four oarsmen, comes in sight. The men rise 
 
330 THE LANDS OF THE SAEAOEN. 
 
 np at each stroke, and the long, sharp craft flies over the sur- 
 face of the water, rather than forces its way through it. A 
 gilded crown surmounts the long, curved prow, and a light 
 though superb canopy covers the stern. TJnder this, we catch 
 a glimpse of the Sultan and Grand Vizier, as they appear for an 
 instant like black silhouettes against the burst of light on shore. 
 After the Sultan had entered the mosque, the fires dimm- 
 ished and the cannon ceased, though the illuminated masts, 
 minarets and gateways still threw a brilliant gleam over the 
 scene. After more than an hour spent in devotion, he again 
 entered his caique and sped away to greet his new wife, amid a 
 fresh discharge from the frigates and the batteries on both 
 shores, and a new dawn of auroral splendor. We made haste 
 to reach the landing-place, in order to avoid the crowd of 
 caiques ; but, although we were among the first, we came near 
 being precipitated into the water, in the struggle to get ashore. 
 The market-place at Tophaneh was so crowded that nothing 
 but main force brought us through, and some of our party had 
 their pockets picked. A number of Turkish soldiers and police- 
 men were mixed up in the mel6e, and they were not sparing of 
 blows when they came in contact with a Giaour. In making 
 my way through, I found that a collision with one of the sol- 
 diers was inevitable, but I managed to plump against him with 
 Buch force as to take the breath out of his body, and was out 
 of his reach before he had recovered himself. I saw several 
 Turkish women striking right and left in their endeavors to 
 escape, and place their hands against the faces of those who 
 opposed them, pushing them aside. This crowd was contrived 
 by thieves, for the purpose of plunder, and, from what I have 
 since learned, must have been very successful. 
 
THE DANCING DEEVISHES. 331 
 
 I visited to-day the College of the Mevlevi Dervishes at 
 Pera, and witnessed their peculiar ceremonies. They assemble 
 in a large hall, where they take their seats in a semi-circle, 
 facing the shekh. After going through several times with the 
 usual Moslem prayer, they move in slow march around the 
 room, while a choir in the gallery chants Arabic phrases in a 
 manner very similar to the mass in Catholic churches. I could 
 distinguish the sentences " God is great," " Praise be to God," 
 and other similar ejaculations. The chant was accompanied 
 with a drum and flute, and had not lasted long before the Der- 
 vishes set themselves in a rotary motion, spinning slowly around 
 the shekh, who stood in the centre. They stretched both arms 
 out, dropped their heads on one side, and glided around with a 
 steady, regular motion, their long white gowns spread out and 
 floating on the air. Their steps were very similar to those of 
 the modern waltz, which, it is possible, may have been derived 
 from the dance of the Mevlevis. Baron Von Hammer finds 
 in this ceremony an imitation of the dance of the spheres, in 
 the ancient Samothracian Mysteries ; but I see no reason to 
 go so far back for its origin. . The dance lasted for about 
 twenty minutes, and the Dervishes appeared very much 
 exhausted at the close, as they are obliged to observe the fast 
 very strictly. 
 
332 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE SOLEMNITIES OF BAIEAM 
 
 The Appearance of the New Moon — The Festival of Bairam— The Interior of the 
 Seraglio — ^The Pomp of the Sultan's Court — ^Reschid Pasha — The Sultan's Dwarf— 
 Ai'abian Stallions — ^The Imperial Guard — Appearance of the Sultan — The Inner Court 
 — Return of the Procession — The Sultan on his Throne — The Homage of the Pashas 
 — An Oriental Picture — Kissing the Scarf— The Shekh el-Islam — The Descendant of 
 the Caliphs — ^Bairam Commences. 
 
 COHSIASTIHOFLE, Mcfn&ay, JvZy 19, 1352. 
 
 Saturday was the last day of the fast-month of Ramazan, atd 
 yesterday the celebration of the solemn festival of Bairam 
 took place. The moon changed on Friday morning at 11 
 o'clock, but as the Turks have no faith in astronomy, and do 
 not believe the moon has actually changed until they see it, all 
 good Mussulmen vfere obliged to fast an additional day. Had 
 Saturday been cloudy, and the new moon invisible, I am not 
 sure but the fast would have been still further prolonged. A 
 good look-out was kept, however, and about four o'clock on 
 Saturday afternoon some sharp eyes saw the young crescent 
 above the sun. There is a hill near Gemlik, on the Gulf of 
 Moudania, about fifty miles from here, whence the Turks 
 believe the new moon can be first seen. The families who live 
 on this hill are exempted from taxation, in consideration of 
 their keeping a watch for the moon, at the close of Ramazan. 
 
THE FESTIVAL OF BAlEAit. 
 
 333 
 
 A series of signals, from hill to hill, is in readiness, and the 
 news is transmitted to Constantinople in a very short time. 
 Then, vrhen the muezzin proclaims the asser, or prayer two 
 hours before sunset, he proclaims also the close of Ramazan. 
 All the batteries fire a salute, and the big guns along the 
 water announce the joyful news to all parts of the city. The 
 forts on the Bosphorus take up the tale, and both shores, from 
 the Black Sea to the Propontis, shake with the burden of 
 their rejoicing. At night the mosques are illuminated for the 
 last time, for it is only during Ramazan that they are lighted, 
 or open for night service. 
 
 After Ramazan, comes the festival of Bairam, which lasts 
 three days, and is a season of unbounded rejoicing. The 
 bazaars are closed, no Turk does any work, but all, clothed in 
 their best dresses, or in an entire new suit if they can afford it, 
 pass the time in feasting, in paying visits, or in making excur- 
 sions to the shores of the Bosphorus, or other favorite spots 
 a,round Constantinople. The festival is inaugurated by a 
 solemn state ceremony, at the Seraglio and the mosque of 
 Sultan Achmed, whither the Sultan goes in procession, accom- 
 panied by all the officers of the Government. This is the last 
 remaining pageant which has been spared to the Ottoman 
 monarchs by the rigorous reforming measures of Sultan Mah- 
 moud, and shorn as it is of much of its former splendor, it 
 probably surpasses in brilliant effect any spectacle which any 
 other European Court can present. The ceremonies which take 
 place inside of the Seraglio were, until within three or four 
 years, prohibited to Frank eyes, and travellers were obliged to 
 content themselves with a view of the procession, as it passed 
 to the mosque. Through the kindness of Mr. Brown, of the 
 
334 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. "" 
 
 American Embassy, I was enabled to witness the entire solem* 
 nity, in all its details. 
 
 As the procession leaves the Seraglio at sunrise, we rose with 
 the first streak of dawn, descended to Tophaneh, and crossed 
 to Seraglio Point, where the cavass of the Embassy was in 
 waiting for us. He conducted us through the guards, into the 
 garden of the Seraglio, and up the hill to the Palace. The 
 Capudan Pasha, or Lord High Admiral, had just arrived in a 
 splendid caique, and pranced up the hill before us on a magni- 
 ficent stallion, whose trappings blazed with jewels and gold 
 lace. The rich uniforms of the different officers of the army 
 and marine glittered far and near under the dense shadows of 
 the cypress trees, and down the dark alleys where the morning 
 twilight had not penetrated. We were ushered into the great 
 outer court-yard of the Seraglio, leading to the Sublime Porte. 
 A double row of marines, in scarlet jackets and white 
 trowsers, extended from one gate to the other, and a very 
 excellent brass band played " Suoni la tromhq," with much 
 spirit. The groups of Pashas and other officers of high rank, 
 with their attendants, gave the scene a brilliant character of 
 festivity. The costumes, except those of the secretaries and 
 servants, were after the European model, but covered with a 
 lavish profusion of gold lace. The horses were all of the 
 choicest Eastern breeds, and the broad housings of their sad- 
 dles of blue, green, purple, and crunson cloth, were enriched 
 with gold lace, rubies, emeralds and turquoises. 
 
 The cavass took us into a chamber near the gate, and com- 
 manding a view of the whole court. There we found Mr. 
 Brown and his lady, with several officers from the TJ. S. 
 steamer San Jacinto. At this moment the sun, appearing 
 
THE PROCESSION TO THE MOSQUE. 335 
 
 above the hill of Bulguriu, behind Scutari, threw his earliest 
 rays upon the gilded pinnacles of the Seraglio. The commo- 
 tion in the long court-yard below increased. The marines were 
 formed into exact line, the horses of the officers clattered on 
 the rough pavement as they dashed about to expedite the 
 arrangements, the crowd pressed closer to the line of the pro- 
 cession, and in five minutes the grand pageant was set in 
 motion. As the first Pasha made his appearance under the 
 dark archway of the interior gate, the band struck up the 
 MarseiUaise (which is a favorite air among the Turks), and the 
 soldiers presented arms. The court-yard was near two hun- 
 dred yards long, and the line of Pashas, each surrounded with 
 the officers of his staff, made a most dazzling show. The lowest 
 in rank came first. I cannot recollect the precise order, nor the 
 names of all of them, which, in fact, are of little consequence, 
 whUe power and place are such uncertain matters in Turkey. 
 
 Each Pasha wore the red fez on his head, a frock-coat of 
 blue cloth, the breast of which was entirely covered with gold 
 lace, while a broad band of the same decorated the skirts, and 
 white pantaloons. One of the Ministers, Mehemet AH Pasha, 
 the brother-in-law of the Sultan, was formerly a cooper's 
 apprentice, bat taken, when a boy, by the late Sultan Mah- 
 moud, to be a playmate for his son, on account of his extraor- 
 dinary beauty. Reschid Pasha, the Grand Vizier, is a man of 
 about sixty years of age. He is frequently called Giaour, or 
 Infidel, by the Turks, on account of his liberal policy, which 
 has made him many enemies. The expression of his face 
 denotes intelligence, but lacks the energy necessary to accom- 
 plish great reforms. His son, a boy of about seventeen, already 
 possesses the rank of Pasha, and is affianced to the Sultan's 
 
836 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 daughter, a child of ten or twelve years old. He is a fat, 
 handsome youth, with a sprightly face, and acted his part in 
 the ceremonies with a nonchalance which made him appear 
 graceful beside his stiff, dignified elders. 
 
 After the Pashas came the entire household of the Sultan, 
 including even his eunuchs, cooks, and constables. The Kislar 
 Aga, or Chief Eunuch, a tall African in resplendent costume, 
 is one of the most important personages connected with the 
 Court. The Sultan's favorite dwarf, a little man about forty 
 years old and three feet high, bestrode his horse with as conse- 
 quential an air as any of them. A few years ago, this man 
 took a notion to marry, and applied to the Sultan for a wife. 
 The latter gave him permission to go into his harem and take 
 the one whom he could kiss. The dwarf, like all short men, 
 was ambitious to have a long wife. While the Sultan's five hun- 
 dred women, who knew the terms according to which the dwarf 
 was permitted to choose, were laughing at the amorous man- 
 nikin, he went up to one of the tallest and handsomest of them, 
 and struck her a sudden blow on the stomach. She collapsed 
 vrith the pain, and before she could recover he caught her by the 
 neck and gave her the dreaded kiss. The Sultan kept his word, 
 and the tall beauty is now the mother of the dwarfs children. 
 
 The procession grows more brilliant as it advances, and the 
 profound inclination made by the soldiers at the further end of 
 the court, announces the approach of the Sultan himself. First 
 come three led horses, of the noblest Arabian blood — glorious 
 creatures, worthy to represent 
 
 " The horse that guide the golden eye of heaven, 
 And snort the morning from their nostrils. 
 Making their flery gait above the glades." 
 
THE SULTAN. 331 
 
 Their eyes were more keen and lustrous than the diamonds 
 which studded their head-stalls, and the wealth of emeralds, 
 rubies, and sapphires that gleamed on their trappings would 
 have bought the possessions of a German Prince. After them 
 came the Sultan's body-guard, a coo^any of tall, strong men, 
 in crimson tunics and white trousers, with lofty plumes of pea- 
 cock feathers in their hats. Some of them carried crests of 
 green feathers, fastened upon long staves. These superb horses 
 and showy guards are the only relics of that barbaric pomp 
 which characterized all State processions during the time of the 
 Janissaries. In the centre of a hollow square of plume-bearing 
 guards rode Abdul-Medjid himself, on a snow-white steed. 
 Every one bowed profoundly as he passed along, but he neither 
 looked to the right or left, nor made the slightest acknowledg- 
 ment of the salutations. Turkish etiquette exacts the most rigid 
 indifference on the part of the Sovereign, who, on all public 
 occasions, never makes a greeting. Formerly, before the change 
 of costume, the Sultan's turbans were carried before him in the 
 processions, and the servants who bore them inclined them to one 
 side and the other, in answer to the salutations of the crowd. 
 
 Sultan Abdul-Medjid is a man of about thirty, though he 
 looks older. He has a mild, amiable, weak face, dark eyes, ac 
 prominent nose, and short, dark brown mustaches and beard. 
 His face is thin, and wrinkles are akeady making their appear- 
 ance about the corners of his mouth and eyes. But for a cer- 
 tain vacancy of expression, he would be called a handsome 
 man. He sits on his horse with much ease and grace, though 
 there is a slight stoop in his shoulders. His legs are crooked, 
 owing to which cause he appears awkward when on his feet, 
 though he wears a long cloak to conceal the deformity. Sea- 
 ls 
 
838 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 sual indulgence has weakened a constitution not natural 
 strong, and increased that mildness which has now become 
 defect in his character. He is not stern enough to bo just, a 
 his subjects are less fortunate under his easy rule than nnd 
 the rod of his savage father, Mahmoud. He was di'essed in 
 style of the utmost richness and elegance. He wore a r 
 Turkish fez, with an immense rosette of brilliants, and a lor 
 floating plume of bird-of-paradise feathers. The diamond 
 the centre of the rosette is of unusual size ; it was picked i 
 some years ago in the Hippodrome, and probably belonged 
 the treasury of the Greek Emperors. The breast and coll 
 of his coat were one mass of diamonds, and sparkled in t 
 early stin with a thousand rainbow gleams. His mantle 
 dark-blue cloth hung to his knees, concealing the deformity i 
 his legs. He wore white pantaloons, white kid gloves, ai 
 patent leather boots, thrust into his golden stirrups. 
 
 A few officers of the Imperial household followed behind t 
 Sultan, and the procession then terminated. Including t 
 soldiers, it contained from two to three thousand persons. T 
 marines lined the way to the mosque of Sultan Achme 
 and a great crowd of spectators filled up the streets and i. 
 square of the Hippodrome. Coffee was served to us, aft 
 which we were all conducted into the inner court of the Sera 
 lio, to await the return of the cortege. This court is not mo 
 than half the size of the outer one, but is shaded with lar] 
 sycamores, embellished with fountains, and surrounded wi 
 light and elegant galleries, in pure Saracenic style. The p: 
 ture which it presented was therefore far richer and mo 
 characteristic of the Orient than the outer court, where tl 
 architecture is almost wholly after Italian models. The porta 
 
THE SULTAN ON HI3 THRONE. 839 
 
 at either end rested on slender pillars, over which projected 
 broad eaves, decorated with elaborate carved and gilded work, 
 and above all rose a dome, surmounted by the Crescent. On 
 the right, the tall chimneys of the Imperial kitchens towered 
 above the walls. The sycamores threw their broad, cool 
 shadows over the court, and groups of servants, in gala dresses, 
 loitered about the corridors. 
 
 After waiting nearly half an hour, the sound of music and the 
 appearance of the Sultan's body-guard proclaimed the return 
 of the procession. It came in reversed order, headed by the 
 Sultan, after whofti followed the Grand Vizier and other Minis- 
 ters of the Imperial Council, and the Pashas, each surrounded 
 by his staff of officers. The Sultan dismounted at the entrance 
 to the Seraglio, and disappeared through the door. He was 
 absent for more than half an hour, during which time he 
 received the congratulations of his family, his wives, and the 
 principal personages of his household, all of whom came to kiss 
 his feet. Meanwhile, the Pashas ranged themselves in a semi- 
 circle around the arched and gilded portico. The servants of 
 the Seraglio brought out a large Persian carpet, which they 
 spread on the marble pavement. The throne, a large square 
 seat, richly carved and covered vrith gilding, was placed in the 
 centre, and a dazzling piece of cloth-of-gold thrown over the 
 back of it. When the Sultan re-appeared, he took his seat 
 thereon, placing his feet on a small footstool. The ceremony 
 of kissing his feet now commenced. The first who had this 
 honor was the Chief of the Emirs, an old man in a green robe, 
 embroidered with pearls. He advanced to the throne, knelt, 
 kissed the Sultan's patent-leather boot, and retired backward 
 from the presence. 
 
340 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 The Ministers and Pashas followed in single file, and, after 
 they had made the salutation, took their stations on the right 
 hand of the throne. Most of them were fat, and their glitter- 
 ing frock-coats were buttoned so tightly that they seemed ready 
 to burst. It required a great effort for them to rise from their 
 knees. During all this time, the band was playing operatic 
 airs, and as each Pasha knelt, a marshal, or master of ceremo- 
 nies, with a silver "wand, gave the signal to the Imperial Guard, 
 who shouted at the top of their voices : " Prosperity to our 
 Sovereign ! May he live a thousand years I" This part of the 
 ceremony was really grand and imposing. All the adjuncts 
 were in keeping : the portico, wrought in rich arabesque 
 designs ; the swelling domes and sunlit crescents above ; the 
 sycamores and cypresses shading the court ; the red tunics and 
 peacock plumes of the guard ; the monarch himself, radiant 
 with jewels, as he sat in his chair of gold — all these features 
 combined to form a stately picture of the lost Orient, and for 
 the time Abdul-Medjid seemed the true representative of 
 Caliph Haroun Al-Raschid. 
 
 After the Pashas had finished, the inferior ofScers of the 
 Army, Navy, and Civil Service followed, to the number of at 
 least a thousand. They were not considered worthy to touch 
 the Sultan's person, but kissed his golden scarf, which was held 
 out to them by a Pasha, who stood on the left of the throne. 
 The Grand Vizier had his place on the right, and the Chief of 
 the Eunuchs stood behind him. The kissing of the scarf occu- 
 pied an hour. The Sultan sat quietly during all this time, his 
 face expressing a total indifference to all that was going on. 
 The most skilful physiognomist could not have found in it the 
 shadow of an expression. If this was the etiquette prescribed 
 
THE SHEKH EL-ISLAM. 
 
 341 
 
 for him, he certainly acted it with marvellous skill and 
 success. 
 
 The loDg hue of officers at length came to an end, and I 
 fancied that the solemnities were now over ; but after a pause 
 appeared the SMh el-Islam, or High Priest of the Mahometan 
 religion. His authority in religious matters transcends that of 
 the Sultan, and is final and irrevocable. He was a very 
 venerable man, of perhaps seventy-five years of age, and his 
 tottering steps were supported by two moUahs. He was 
 dressed in a long green robe, embroidered with gold and pearls, 
 over which his white beard flowed below his waist. In hia 
 turban of white cambric was twisted a scarf of cloth-of-gol4. 
 He kissed the border of the Sultan's mantle, which salutation 
 was^lso made by a long line of the chief priests of the mosques 
 of Constantinople, who followed him. These priests were 
 dressed in long robes of white, green, blue, and violet, many 
 of them with collars of pearls and golden scarfs wound about 
 their turbans, the rich fringes falling on their shoulders. They 
 were grave, stately men, with long gray beards, and the wis- 
 dom of age and study-in their deep-set eyes. 
 
 Among the last who came was the most important personage 
 of all. This was the Governor of Mecca (as I believe he is 
 called), the nearest descendant of the Prophet, and the succes- 
 sor to the Caliphate, in case the family of Othman becomes 
 extinct. Sultan Mahmoud, on his accession to the throne, was 
 the last descendant of Orchan, the founder of the Ottoman 
 Dynasty, the throne being inherited only by the male heirs. 
 He left two sons, who are both living, Abdul-Medjid having 
 departed from the practice of his predecessors, each of whom 
 slew his brothers, in order to make his own sovereignty secure. 
 
342 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACKIf. 
 
 He has one son, Muzad, who is about ten years old, so that 
 there are now three males of the family of Orchan. In case 
 of their death, the Governor of Mecca would become Caliph, 
 and the sovereignty would be established in his family. He is 
 a swarthy Arab, of about fifty, with a bold, fierce face. He 
 wore a sir^'^irb dress of green, the sacred color, and was fol- 
 lowed by his two sons, young men of twenty and twenty-two. 
 As he advanced to the throne, and was about to kneel and kiss 
 the Sultan's robe, the latter prevented him, and asked politely 
 after his health — the highest mark of respect in his power to 
 show. The old Arab's face gleamed with such a sudden gush 
 of pride and satisfaction, that no flash of lightning could have 
 illumined it more vividly. 
 
 The sacred writers, or transcribers of the Koran, closeS the 
 procession, after which the Sultan rose and entered the Serag- 
 lio. The crowd slowly dispersed, and in a few minutes the 
 grand reports of the cannon on Seraglio Point announced the 
 departure of the Sultan for his palace on the Bosphorus. The 
 festival of Bairam was now fairly inaugurated, and all Stam- 
 boul was given up to festivity. There was no Turk so poor 
 that he did not in some sort share in the rejoicing. Our 
 Fourth could scarcely show more flags, let off more big guns 
 or send forth greaier crowds of excursionists than this Moslem 
 holiday " 
 
SOJOURN AT CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE MOSQUES OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 Bqiourn at Constantinople— Semi-European Character of the City— The Mosque— Pro- 
 curing a Firman— The Seraglio— The Libraiy— The Ancient Throne-Eoom— Admit- 
 tance to St, Sophia — ^Magnificence of the Interior — The JMarrellous Dome — The 
 Mosque of Sultan Achmed — The Sulemanye — Great Conflagrations — Political Mean- 
 ing of the Fires — Turkish Progress— Decay of the Ottoman Power. 
 
 "Is that indeed Sophia's far-famed dome, 
 "Where first the Faith was led in triumph home, 
 Like some high bride, with banner and bright sign, 
 And melody, and flowers ?" Aubkbt Db Vbrb. 
 
 CoHSTAKnHOPLB, Tuesioy, August 8, 1852. 
 
 The length of my stay in Constantinople has enabled me to 
 visit many interesting spots in its vicinity, as well as to faii^j- 
 liarize myself with the peculiar features of the great capital. 
 I have seen the beautiful Bosphorus from steamers and cai- 
 ques ; ridden up the valley of Buyukdere, and through the 
 chestnut woods of Belgrade ; bathed in the Black Sea, under 
 the lee of the Symple'gades, where the marble altar to Apollo 
 still invites an oblation from passing mariners ; walked over 
 the flowery meadows beside the "Heavenly Waters of Asia ;" 
 galloped around the ijy-grown walls where Dandolo and Maho- 
 met II. conquered, and the last of the Palseologi fell ; and 
 dreamed away many an afternoon-hour under the funereal 
 cypresses of Pera, and beside the Delphian tripod in the Hip- 
 
S44 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 podrome. The historic interest of these spots is familiar to 
 all, nor, with one exception, have their natural beanties been 
 exaggerated by travellers. This exception is the village of 
 Belgrade, over which Mary Montague went into raptures, and 
 set the fashion for tourists ever since. I must confess to having 
 been wofully disappointed. The village is a miserable cluster 
 of rickety houses, on an open piece of barren land, surrounded 
 by the forests, or rather thickets, which keep alive the springs 
 that supply Constantinople with water. We reached there 
 with appetites sharpened by our morning's ride, expecting to 
 find at least a vender of kibabs (bits of fried meat) in so 
 renowned a place ; but the only things to be had were raw salt 
 mackerel, and bread which belonged to the primitive geological 
 formation. 
 
 The general features of Constantinople and the Bosphorus 
 are so well known, that I am spared the dangerous task of 
 painting scenes which have been colored by abler pencils. Von 
 Hammer, Lamartine, Willis, Miss Pardoe, Albert Smith, and 
 thoU, most inimitable Thackeray ! have made Pera and Scutari, 
 the Bazaars and Baths, the Seraglio and the Golden Horn, as 
 familiar to our ears as Cornhill and Wall street. Besides, 
 Constantinople is not the true Orient, which is to be found 
 rather in Cairo, in Aleppo, and brightest and most vital, in 
 Damascus. Here, we tread European soil ; the Franks are 
 fast crowding out the followers of the Proph'et, and Stamboul 
 itself, were its mosques and Seraglio removed, would differ little 
 in outward appearance from a third-rate Italian town. The 
 Sultan lives in a palace with a Grecian portico ; the pointed 
 Saracenic arch, the arabesque sculptures, the latticed balconies, 
 give place to clumsy imitations of Palladio, and every fire that 
 
THE MOSQUE. 010 
 
 sweeps away a recollection of the palmy times of Ottoman 
 rule, sweeps it away forever. 
 
 But the Mosque— that blossom of Oriental architecture, 
 with its crowning domes, like the inverted bells of the lotus, 
 and its reed-like minarets, its fountains and marble courts — can 
 only perish with the faith it typifies. I, for one, rejoice that, 
 so long as the religion of Islam exists (and yet, may its time 
 be short 1), no Christian model can shape its houses of worship. 
 The minaret must still lift its airy tower for the muezzin ; the 
 dome must rise like a gilded heaven above the prayers of the 
 Faithful, with its starry lamps and emblazoned phrases ; the 
 fountain must continue to pour its waters of purification. A 
 reformation of the Moslem faith is impossible. When it begins 
 to give way, the whole fabric must fall. Its ceremonies, as 
 well as its creed, rest entirely on the recognition of Mahomet 
 as the Prophet of God. However the Turks may change in 
 other respects, in all that concerns their religion they must 
 continue the same. 
 
 IJntil within a few years, a visit to the mosques, especially 
 the more sacred ones of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmed, was 
 attended with much difficulty. , Miss Pardoe, according to her 
 own account, risked her life in order to see the interior of, St. 
 Sophia, which she effected in the disguise of a Turkish Efiendi. 
 I accomplished the same thing, a few days since, but without 
 recourse to any such romantic expedient. Mr. Brown, the 
 interpreter of the Legation, procured a firman from the Grand 
 Vizier, on behalf of the officers of the San Jacinto, and kindly 
 invited me, with several other American and English travellers, 
 to join the party. During the month of Ramazan, no firmans 
 are given, and as at this time there are few travellers in Con- 
 
 15 
 
346 ' THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 stantinople, we should otherwise have been subjected to a heavy 
 expense. The cost of a firman, including backsheesh to the 
 priests and doorkeepers, is 100 piastres (about $33). 
 
 "We crossed the Golden Horn in caiques, and first visited the 
 gardens and palaces on Seraglio Point. The Sultan at present 
 resides in his summer palace of Beshiktashe, on the Bosphorus, 
 and only occupies the Serai Bornou, as it is called, during the 
 -winter months. The Seraglio covers the eztremity of the 
 promontory on which Constantinople is bnUt, and is nearly 
 three mUes in circuit. The scattered buildings erected by dif- 
 ferent Sultans form i# themselves a small city, whose domes 
 and pointed turrets rise from amid groves of cypress and pine. 
 The sea-wall is lined with kiosks, from whose cushioned win- 
 dows there are the loveliest views of the European and Asian 
 shores. The newer portion of the palace, where the Sultan 
 now receives the ambassadors of foreign nations, shows the 
 influence of European taste in its plan and decorations. It is 
 by no means remarkable for splendor, and suffers by contrast 
 with many of the private houses in Damascus and Aleppo. 
 The building is of wood, the walls ornamented with detestable 
 frescoes by modern Greek artists, and except a small but 
 splendid collection of arms, and some wonderful specimens of 
 Arabic chirography, there is nothing to interest the visitor. 
 
 In ascending to the ancient Seraglio, which was founded by 
 Mahomet II., on the site of the palace of the Palasologi, we 
 passed the Column of Theodosius, a plain Corinthian shaft, 
 about fifty feet high. The Seraglio is now occupied entirely 
 by the servants and guards, and the greater part of it shows a 
 neglect amounting almost to dilapidation. The Saracenic cor- 
 ridors surrounding its courts are supported by pillars of mar- 
 
THE SERAGLIO. 341 
 
 ble, granite, and porphyry, the spoils of the Christian capital. 
 We were allowed to walk about at leisure, and inspect the dif- 
 ferent compartments, except the library, which unfortunately 
 was locked. This library was for a long time supposed to 
 contain many lost treasures of ancient literature — among other 
 things, the missing books of Liry — ^but the recent researches of 
 Logothetos, the Prince of Samos, prove that there is little of 
 value among its manuscripts. Before the door hangs a wooden 
 globe, which is supposed to be efficacious in neutralizing the 
 influence of the Evil Eye. There are many ancient altars and 
 fragments of pillars scattered about the courts, and the Turks 
 have even commenced making a collection of antiquities, which, 
 with the exception of two immense sarcophagi of red porphyry, 
 contains nothing of value. They show, however, one of the 
 brazen heads of the Delphian tripod in the Hippodrome, which, 
 they say, Mahomet the Conqueror struck off with a single blow 
 of his sword, on entering Constantinople. 
 
 The most interesting portion of the Seraglio is the ancient 
 throne-room, now no longer used, but still guarded by a com- 
 pany of white eunuchs. The throne is an immense, heavy 
 bedstead, the posts of which are thickly incrusted with rubies, 
 turquoises, emeralds, and sapphires. There is a funnel-shaped 
 chimney-piece in the room, a master-work of Benevenuto Cel- 
 lini. There, half a century ago, the foreign ambassadors 
 were presented, after having been bathed, fed, and clothed with 
 a rich mantle in the outer apartments. They were ushered 
 into the imperial presence, supported by a Turkish official on 
 either side, in order that they might show no signs of breaking 
 down under the load of awe and reverence they were supposed 
 to feel. In the outer Court, adjoining the Sublime Porte, ia 
 
348 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEK. 
 
 ^ the Chapel of the Empress Irene, now converted into an 
 armory, which, for its ^ize, is the most tasteful and picturesque 
 collection of weapons I hare ever seen. It is especially rich in 
 Saracenic armor, and contains naany superb casques of inlaid 
 gold. In a larga glass case in the chancel, one sees the keys 
 of some thirty or forty cities, with the date of their capture. 
 It is not likely that another will ever be added to the list. 
 
 We now passed out through the Sublime Porte, and direct- 
 ed our steps to the famous Aya Sophia — ^the temple dedicated 
 by Justinian to the Divine TVisdom. The repairs made to the 
 outer walls by the Turks, and -the addition of the four mina- 
 rets, have entirely changed the character of the building, with- 
 out injuring its effect. As a Christian Church, it must have 
 been less imposing than in its present form. A priest met us at 
 the entrance, and after reading the firman with a very discon- 
 tented face, informed us that we could not enter until the mid- 
 day prayers were concluded. After taking off our shoes, how- 
 ever, we were allowed to ascend to the galleries, whence we 
 looked down on the bowing worshippers. Here the majesty 
 of the renowned edifice, despoiled as it now is, bursts at once 
 upon the eye. The wonderful flat dome, glittering with its 
 golden mosaics, and the sacred phrase from the Koran : God 
 is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth" swims in the air, 
 one hundred and eighty feet above the marble pavement. On 
 the eastern and western sides, it rests on two half domes, 
 which again rise from or rest upon a group of three small half- 
 domes, so that the entire roof of the mosque, unsupported by a 
 pillar, seems to have been dropped from above on the walls, 
 rather than to have been built up from them. Around the 
 edifice run an upper and a lower gallery, which alone preserve 
 
THE MOSQUE OP ST. SOPHIA. 349 
 
 the peculiarities of the Byzantine style. These galleries are 
 supported by the most precious columns which ancient art 
 could afford : among them eight shafts of green marble, from 
 th,e Temple of Diana, at Ephesus ; eight of porphyry, from the 
 Temple of the Sun, at Baalbek ; besides Egyptian granite from 
 the shrines of Isis and Osiris, and Pentelican marble from the 
 sanctuary of Pallas Athena. Almost the whole of the inte- 
 rior has been covered with gilding, but time has softened its 
 brUliancy, and the rich, subdued gleam of the walls is in per- 
 fect harmony with the yaried coloring of the ancient marbles. 
 
 Under the dome, four. Christian seraphim, executed in 
 mosaic, have been allowed to remain, but the names of the four 
 archangels of the Moslem faith are inscribed underneath. 
 The bronze doors are still the same, the Turks having taken 
 great pains to obliterate the crosses with which they were 
 adorned. Around the centre of the dome, as on that of Sul- 
 tan Achmed, may be read, in golden letters, and in all the 
 intricacy of Arabic penmanship, the beautiful verse : — "God 
 is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth. His wisdom is 
 a light on the wall, in which burns a lamp covered with glass. 
 The glass shines like a star, the lamp is lit with the oil of a 
 blessed tree. No Eastern, no Western oil, it shines for who- 
 ever wills." After the prayers were over, and we had descend- 
 ed to the floor of the mosque, I spent the rest of my time 
 under the dome, fascinated by its marvellous lightness and 
 beauty. The worshippers present looked at us with curiosity, 
 but without ill-will ; and before we left, one of the priests camo 
 slyly with some fragments of the ancient gilded mosaic, which 
 he was heathen enough to sell, and we to buy. 
 
 From St. Sophia we went to Sultan Achmed, which faces 
 
350 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 the Hippodrome, and is one of the stateliest piles of Constanti- 
 nople. It is avowedly an imitation of St. Sophia, and the 
 Turks consider it a more wonderful work, because the dome is 
 seven feet higher. It has six minarets, exceeding in this 
 respect all the mosques of Asia. The dome rests on four 
 immense pillars, the bulk of which quite oppresses the light 
 galleries running around the walls. This, and the uniform 
 white color of the interior, impairs the effect which its bold 
 style and imposing dimensions would otherwise produce. The 
 outside view, with the group of domes swelling gmndly above 
 the rows of broad-armed sycamores, is much more satisfactory. 
 In the tomb of Sultan Achmed, in one corner of the court, we 
 saw his coffin, turban, sword, and jewelled harness. I had 
 just been reading old Sandys' account of his visit to Constan- 
 tinople, in 1610, during this Sultan's reign, and could only 
 think of him as Sandys represents him, iti the title-page to his 
 book, as a fat man, with bloated cheeks, in a long gown and big 
 turban, and the words underneath : — " Achmed, sive Tyrannus." 
 The other noted mosques of Constantinople are tb« Teni 
 Djami, or Mosque of the Sultana Valide, on the shore of the 
 Golden Horn, at the end of the bridge to Galata ; that of 
 Sultan Bajazet ; of Mahomet II., the Conqueror, and of his 
 son, Suleyman the Magnificent, whose superb mosque well 
 deserves this title. I regret exceedingly that our time did not 
 allow us to view the interior, for outwardly it not only sur- 
 passes St. Sophia, and all other mosques in the city, but is 
 undoubtedly one of the purest specimens of Oriental architecture 
 extant. It stands on a broad terrace, on one of the seven hills 
 of Stamboul, and its exquisitely proportioned domes and mina- 
 rets shine as if crystalized in the blue of the air. It is a typo 
 
ORIENTAL ART. 351 
 
 of Oriental, as tlie Partlienon is of Grecian, and the Cologne 
 Cathedral of Gothic art. As I saw it the other night, lit by 
 the flames of a conflagration, standing out red and clear against 
 the darkness, I felt inclined to pliice it on a level with either 
 of those renowned structures. It is a product of the rich 
 fancy of the East, splendidly ornate, and not without a high 
 degree of symmetry — yet here the symmetry is that of orna- 
 ment alone, and not the pure, absolute proportion of forms, 
 which we find in Grecian Art. It requires a certain degree of 
 enthusiasm — nay, a slight inebriation of the imaginative facul- 
 ties — in order to feel the sentimeat of this Oriental Architec- 
 ture. If I rightly express all thi,t it says to me, I touch the 
 verge of rapsody. The Bast, in almost all its aspects, is so 
 essentially poetic, that a true picture of it must be poetic in 
 spirit, if not in form. 
 
 Constantinople has been terribly ravaged by fires, no less 
 than fifteen having occurred during the past two weeks. 
 Almost every night the sky has been reddened by burning 
 bouses, and the minarets of the seven hills lighted with an 
 illumination brighter than that of the Bairam. All the space 
 from the Hippodrome to the Sea of Marmora has been swept 
 away ; the lard, honey, and oil magazines on the Golden Horn, 
 with the bazaars adjoining ; several large blocks on the hill of 
 Galata, with the College of the Dancing Dervishes ; a part of 
 Scutari, and the College of the Howling Dervishes, all have 
 ' disappeared ; and to-day, the ruins of 3,100 houses, which were 
 destroyed last night, stand smoking in the Greek quarter, 
 behind the aqueduct of Valens. The entire amount of build- 
 ings consumed in these two weeks is estimated at between ^w 
 amd six thousand ! The fire on the hill of Galata threatened to 
 
352 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 destroy a great part of the suburb of Pera. It came, sweep- 
 ing over the brow of the hill, towards my hotel, turning the 
 tall cypresses in the burial ground into shafts of angry flaroe, 
 and eating away the crackling dwellings of hordes of hapless 
 Turks. I was in bed, from a sudden attack of fever, but seeing 
 the other guests packing up their effects and preparing to 
 leave, I was obUged to do the same ; and this, in my weak 
 state, brought on such a perspiration that the ailment left me. 
 The ofBcers of the United States steamer San Jacinto, and 
 the French frigate Charlemagne, came to the rescue with their 
 men and fire-engines, and the flames were finally quelled. The 
 proceedings of the Americans, who cut holes in the roofs and 
 played through them upon the fires within, were watched by 
 the Turks with stupid amazement. " M^shallah 1" said a fat 
 Bimbashi, as he stood sweltering in the heat ; " The Franks 
 are a wonderful people." 
 
 To those initiated into the mysteries of Turkish politics, 
 these fires are more than accidental ; they have a most weighty 
 significance. They indicate either a general discontent with 
 the existing state of affairs, or else a powerful plot against the 
 Sultan and his Ministry. Setting fire to houses is, in fact, the 
 Turkish method of holding an " indignation meeting," and from 
 the rate with which they are increasing, the political crisis 
 must be near at hand. The Sultan, with his usup,l kmdness of 
 heart, has sent large quantities of tents and other supplies to 
 the guiltless sufferers ; but no amount of kindness can soften 
 the rancor of these Turkish intrigues. Reschid Pasha, the 
 present Grand Vizier, and the leader of the party of Progress, 
 is the person against whom this storm of opposition is now 
 gathering. 
 
^ DECAY OP THE OTTOMAN POWER. ' 353 
 
 In spite of all efforts, the Ottoman Power is rapidly wasting 
 away. The life of the Orient is nerveless and effete ; the 
 natire strength of the race has died out, and all attempts to 
 resuscitate it by the adoption of European institutions produce 
 mere galyanic spasms, which leave it more exhausted than 
 before. The rosy-colored accounts we have had of Turkish 
 Progress are for the most part mere delusions. The Sultan is 
 a well-meaning but weak man, and tyrannical through Ms very 
 weakness. Had he strength enough to break through the 
 meshes of falsehood and venality which are woven so close 
 about him, he might accomplish some solid good. But Turkish 
 rule, from his ministers down to the lowest cadi, is a monstrous 
 system of deceit and corruption. These people have not the 
 most remote conception of the true aims of government ; they 
 only seek to enrich themselves and their parasites, at the 
 expense of the people and the national treasury. When we 
 add to this the conscript system, which is draining the pro- 
 vinces of their best Moslem subjects, to the advantage of the 
 Christians and Jews, and the blindness of the Revenue Laws, 
 which impose on domestic manufactures double the duty levied 
 on foreign products, it will easily be foreseen that the next 
 half-century, or less, will completely drain the Turkish Empire 
 of its last lingering energies. 
 
 Already,' in effect, Turkey exists only through the jealousy 
 of the European nations. The treaty of Unkiar-iskelessi, in 
 1833, threw her into the hands of Russia, although the influ- 
 ence of Bnglaad has of late years reigned almost exclusively 
 in her councils. These are the two powers who are lowermg 
 at each other with sleepless eyes, in the Dardanelles and the 
 Bosphorus. The people, and most probably the government, 
 
354 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 is strongly preposessed in favor of the English ; but the Rus- 
 -sian Bear has a heavy paw, and when he puts it into the scale, 
 all other weights kick the beam. It will be a long and wary 
 struggle, and no man can prophecy the result. The Turks are 
 a people easy to govern, were even the imperfect laws, now in 
 existence, fairly administered. Th«y would thrive and improve 
 under a better state of things ; but I cannot avoid the convic- 
 tion that the regeneration of the East will never be effected at 
 their hands. 
 
EMBAEOATION. 355 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 FAREWELL TO THE ORIENT' — MALTA. 
 
 Embarcation — Farewell to the Orient — Leaving Constantinople — A Wreck — The Dar- 
 danelles — nomei'ic Scenery — Smyrna Revisited — The 0recian Jsles — Voyage to Malta 
 — Detention — La Valetta — The Maltese — ^The Climate — A Boat for Sicily. 
 
 " Farewell, ye mountains, 
 
 By gloi*y crowned ; 
 Te sacved fountains 
 
 Of Gods renowned ; 
 Ye woods and highlands, 
 
 Where heroes dwell ; 
 Ye seas and islands. 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell !" Fkithiop's Saga. 
 
 Is THE Dabdanelles, Safurdoy, Awgnst 7, 1852. 
 
 At last, behold me fairly embarked for Christian Europe, to 
 which I bade adieu in October last, eager for the unknown 
 wonders of the Orient. Since then, nearly ten months have 
 passed away, and those wonders are now familiar as every-day 
 experiences. I set out, determined to be satisfied with no 
 slight taste of Eastern life, but to drain to the bottom its 
 beaker of mingled sunshine and sleep. All this has been 
 accomplished, ; and if I have not wandered so far, nor enriched 
 myself with such varied knowledge of the relics of ancient 
 history, as I might have purposed or wished, I have at least 
 learned to know the Turk and the Arab, been soothed by the 
 patience inspired by their fatalism, and warmed by the gorge- 
 ous gleams of fancy that anim&fe their poetry and religion. 
 
356 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 These ten months of my Kfe form an episode which seems to 
 belong to a separate existence. Just refined enough to be 
 poetic, and just barbaric enough to be freed from all conven- 
 tional fetters, it is as grateful to brain and soul, as an Eastern 
 bath to the body. While I look forward, not without pleasure, 
 to the luxuries and couTeniences of Europe, I relinquish with a 
 sigh the refreshing indolence of Asia. 
 
 We have passed between the Castles of the two Continents, 
 guarding the mouth of the Dardanelles, and are now entering 
 the Grecian Sea. To-morrow, we shall touch, for a few 
 hours, at Smyrna, and then turn westward, on the track of 
 Ulysses and St. Paul. Farewell, then, perhaps forever, to the 
 bright Orient I Farewell to the gay gardens, the spicy bazaars, 
 to the plash of fountains and the gleam of golden-tipped mina- 
 rets 1 Farewell to the perfect morns, the balmy twilights, the 
 still heat of the blue noons, the splendor of moon and stars 1 
 Farewell to the glare of the white crags, the tawny wastes of 
 dead sand, the valleys of oleander, the hills of myrtle and 
 spices 1 Farewell to the bath, agent of purity and peace, and 
 parent of delicious dreams— to the shebook, whose fragrant 
 fumes are breathed from the lips of patience and contentment 
 — to the narghileh, crowned with that blessed plant which 
 grows in the gardens of Shiraz, while a fountain more delight- 
 fnl than those of Samarcand bubbles in its crystal bosom ! 
 Farewell to the red cap and slippers, to the big turban, the 
 flowing trousers, and the gaudy shawl — to squatting on broad 
 divans, to sipping black coffee in acorn cups, to grave faces and 
 salaam aleikooms, and touching of the lips and forehead 1 Fare- 
 well to the evening meal in the tent door, to the couch on the 
 friendly earth, to the yells of the muleteers, to the deliberate 
 
THE SEA OP MAKMOEA. 351 
 
 marches of the plodding horse, and the endless rocking of the 
 dromedary that knoweth his master I Farewell, finally, to 
 annoyance without anger, delay without vexation, indolence 
 without ennui, endurance without fatigue, appetite without 
 intemperance, enjoyment without pall I 
 
 La Vaihtta, Malta, Satm'clwy,.Aiigmi 14, 1852. 
 
 My last view of Stamboul was that of the mosques of St, 
 Sophia and Sultan Achmed, shining faintly in the moonlight, 
 as we steamed down the Sea of Marmora. The Cair& left at 
 nine o'clock, freighted with the news of Reschld Pasha's 
 deposition, and there were no signs of conflagration in all the 
 long miles of the city that lay behind us. So we speculated 
 no more on the exciting topics of the day, but went below and 
 took a vapor bath in our berths ; for I need not assure you 
 that the nights on the Mediterranean at this season are any- 
 thing but chilly. And here I must note the fact, that the 
 French steamers, while dearer than the Austrian, are more 
 cramped in their accommodations, and filled with a set of most 
 uncivil servants. The table is good, and this is the only thing 
 to be commended. In all other respects, I prefer the Lloyd 
 vessels. 
 
 Early next morning, we passed the promontory of Cyzicus, 
 and the Island of Marmora, the marble quarries of which give 
 name to the sea. As we were approaching the entrance to the 
 Dardanelles, we noticed an Austrian brig drifting in the cur- 
 rent, the whiff of her flag indicating distress. Her rudder was 
 entirely gone, and she was floating helplessly towards the Thra- 
 eian coast. A boat was immediately lowered and a hawser 
 carried to Iier bows, by which we towed her a short distance ; 
 
358 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 but onr steam engine did not like this drudgery, and snapped 
 the rope repeate^Jly, so that at last we were obliged to leave 
 ier to her fate. The lift we gave, however, had its effect, and 
 by dexterous manceuvering with the sails, the captain brought 
 her safely into the harbor of Gallipoli, where she dropped 
 anchor beside us. 
 
 Beyond Gallipoli, the Dardanelles contract, and the opposing 
 continents rise into lofty and barren hills. In point of natural 
 beauty, this strait is greatly inferior to the Bosphorus. It 
 lacks the streams and wooded valleys which open upon the 
 latter. The country is but partially cultivated, except around 
 the town of Dardanelles, near the mouth of the strait. The 
 site of the bridge of Xerxes is easily recognized, the conforma- 
 tion of the different shores secondmg the decision of anti- 
 quarians. Here, too, are Sestos • and Abydos, of passionate 
 and poetic memory. But as the sun dipped towards the sea, 
 we passed out of the narrow gateway. On onr left lay the 
 plain of Troy, backed by the blue range of Mount Ida. The 
 tumulus of Patroclus crowned a low bluff looking on the sea. 
 On the right appeared the long, irregular island of Imbros, 
 and the peaks of misty Samothrace over and beyond it. Tene- 
 dos was before ns. The red flush of sunset tinged the grand 
 Homeric landscape, and lingered and lingered on the summit 
 of Ida, as if loth to depart. I paced the deck until long after 
 it was too dark to distinguish it any more. 
 
 The next morning we dropped anchor in the harbor of 
 Smyrna, where we remained five hours. I engaged a donkey, 
 and rode out to the Caravan Bridge, where the Greek driver 
 and I smoked narghilehs and drank coffee in the shade of the 
 acacias. I contrasted my impressions with those of my first 
 
SMYENA REVISITED. 859 
 
 visit to Smyrna last October — my first glimpse of Oriental 
 ground. Then, every clog barked at me, and all the horde of 
 human creatures who prey upon innocent travellers ran at my 
 heels, but now, with my brown face and Turkish aspect of 
 grave indifference, I was suffered to pass as quietly as my 
 donkey-driver himself. Nor did the latter, nor the ready 
 cafidji, who filled our pipes on the banks of the Meles, attempt 
 to overcharge me — a sure sign that the Orient had left its seal 
 on my face. Keturning through the city, the same mishap 
 befel me which travellers usually experience on their first 
 arrival. My donkey, while dashing at full speed through a 
 crowd of Smyrniotes in their Sunday dresses, slipped up in a 
 little pool of black mud, and came down with a crash. I flew 
 over his head and alighted firmly on my feet, but the spruce, 
 young Greeks, whose snowy fastanelles were terribly bespat 
 tered, came off much worse. The donkey shied back, levelled 
 his ears and twisted his head on one side, awaiting a beating, 
 but his bleeding legs saved him. 
 
 We left at two o'clock, touched at Scio in the evening, and 
 the next morning at'sunrise lay-to in the harbor of Syra. The 
 Piraeus was only twelve hours distant ; but after my visitation 
 of fever in Constantinople, I feared to encounter the pestilen- 
 tial summer heats of Athens. Besides, I had reasons for 
 hasteniug with all speed to Italy and Germany. At ten 
 o'clock we weighed anchor again and steered southwards, 
 between the groups of the Cyclades, under a cloudless sky and 
 over a sea of the brightest blue. The days were endurable under 
 the canvas awning of our quarter-deck, but the nights in our 
 berths were sweat-baths, which left us so limp and exhausted 
 that we were almost fit to vanish, like ghosts, at daybreak. 
 
360 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 Our last glimpse of the Morea — Cape Matapan. — ^faded away 
 in. the moonlight, and for two days we travelled westtvard over 
 the burning sea. On the evening of the 11th, the long, low 
 outline of Malta rose gradually agaijist the last flush of sunset, 
 and in two hours thereafter, we came to anchor in Quarantine 
 Harbor. The quarantine for travellers returning from the 
 Bast, which formerly varied from fourteen to twenty-one days, 
 is. now reduced to one day for those arriving from Greece or 
 Turkey, and three days for those from Egypt and Syria. In 
 our case, it was reduced to sixteen hours, by an official 
 courtesy. I had intended proceeding directly to Naples ; but by 
 the contemptible trickery of the agents of the French steamers 
 — a long history, which it is unnecessay to recapitulate — am left 
 here to wait ten days for another steamer. It is enough to say 
 that there are six other travellers at the same hotel, some 
 coming from Constantinople, and some from Alexandria, in the 
 same predicament. Because a single ticket to Naples costs 
 some thirty or forty francs less than by dividing the trip 
 into two parts, the agents in those cities refuse to give tickets 
 further than Malta to those who are not keen enough to see 
 through the deception; I made every effort to obtain a second 
 ticket in time to leave by the branch steamer for Italy, but in 
 vain. 
 
 La Yaletta is, to my eyes, the most beautiful small city in the 
 worldi It is a jewel of a place; not a street but is full of pictu- 
 resque effects, and all the look-outs, which you catch at every 
 turn, let your eyes rest either upon one of the beautiful harbors 
 on each side, or the distant horizon of the sea. The streets are 
 so clean that you might eat your dinner off the pavement ; the 
 white balconies and cornices of the honseSj all cleanly cut in the 
 
LA VALETTA. 381 
 
 soft Maltese stone, stand out in intense relief against the sky, 
 and from the manifold reflections and counter reflections, the 
 shadows (where there are any) become a sort of milder light 
 The steep sides of the promontory, on which the city is built, 
 are turned into staircases, and it is an inexhaustible pastime to 
 watch the groups, composed of all nations who inhabit the 
 shores of the Mediterranean, ascending and descending. The 
 Auberges of the old Knights, the Palace of the Grand Master, 
 the Church of St. John, and Other relics of past time, but more 
 especially the fortifications, inTest the place with a romantic 
 interest, and I suspect that, after Venice and Granada, there 
 are few cities where the Middle Ages have left more impressive 
 traces of their history. 
 
 The Maltese are contented, and appear to thrive under the 
 English administration. They are a peculiar people, reminding 
 me of the Arab even more than the Italian, while a certain 
 rudeness in their build and motions suggests their Punic ances- 
 try. Their language is a curious compound of Arabic and 
 Italian, the former being the basis. I find that I can under- 
 stand more than half that is said, the Arabic terminations being 
 applied to Italian words. I believe it has never been success- 
 fully reduced to writing, and the restoration of pure Arabic 
 has been proposed, with much reason, as preferable to an at- 
 tempt to improve or refine it. Italian is the language used in 
 the courts of justice and polite society, and is spoken here with 
 much more purity than either in Naples or Sicily. 
 
 The heat has been so great since I landed that I have not 
 ventured outside of the city, except last evening to an ama- 
 teur theatre, got up by the non-commissioned officers and pri- 
 rates in the garrison. The performances were quite tolerable, 
 
 16 
 
362 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 except a love-sick yonng damsel who spoke with a rough mascn- 
 line voice, and made long strides across the stage when she rushed 
 into her lover's arms. I am at a loss to account'ftir the exhaust- 
 ing character of the heat. The thermometer show3^90° by day, 
 and 80° to 85° by night — a, much lower temperature than I 
 have found quite comfortable in Africa and Syria. In the 
 Desert 100° in the shade is rather bracing than otherwise ; 
 here, 90° renders all exercise, more severe than smoking a pipe, 
 impossible. Even in a state of complete inertia, a shirt-collar 
 will fall starchless in five minutes. 
 
 Rather than waste> eight more days in this glimmering half- 
 existence, I have taken passage in a Maltese speronara, which 
 sails this evening for Catania, in Sicily, where the grand festi- 
 val of St. Agatha, which takes place once in a hundred years, 
 will be celebrated next week. The trip promises a new expe- 
 rience, and I shall get a taste, slight though it be, of the golden 
 Trinacria of the ancients. Perhaps, after all, this delay which 
 so vexes me (bear in mind, I am no longer in the Orient I) may 
 be meant solely for my good. At least, Mr. Winthrop, our 
 Consul here, who has been exceedingly kind and courteous to me, 
 thinks it a rare good fortune that I shall see the Cataniau 
 festa. 
 
DEPAETOEE FKOM MALTA. 868 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL OF ST. AGATHA. 
 
 Departure rrom Malta-^The Speronara — Our FeUow-Passengers — The First Night oa 
 Board — Sicily — Scarcity of Provisions — Beating in the Calabrian Ohannel^-The 
 Fom-th Morning — The Grulf of Catania— A Sicilian Landscape — The Anchorage — ThG 
 Suspected List— The Streets of Catania— Biography of St. Agatha— The Bluminationa 
 — The Procession of the Veil-^The Bisoari Palace — The Antiquities of Catania — The 
 Convent of St. Nicola. 
 
 " The morn is full of holiday, loud bells 
 With rival clamors ring from every spire ; 
 < Cunningly-stationed music dies and swells 
 In echoing places ; when the winds respire, 
 Light flags stream out like gauzy tongues of fire." — Kbaib. 
 
 CiTAKii, Sicily, Friday, AmgiiM 20, 1852. 
 
 I WENT on board the speronara in the harbor of La Valetta at 
 the appointed hour (5 p. m.), and found the remaining sixteen 
 passengers already embarked. The capt9,in made his appear- 
 ance an hour later, with onr bill of health and passports, and 
 as the sun went down behind the brown hills of the island, we 
 passed the waye-worn rocks of the promontory, dividing the 
 two harbors, and slowly moved off towards Sicily. 
 
 The Maltese speronara resembles the. ancient Roman galley 
 more than any modern craft. It has the same high, curved 
 poop and stern, the same short masts and broad, square sails. 
 The hull is too broad for speed, but this adds to the security 
 
864 THE LANDS OF THK SAHACEN. 
 
 of the vessel in a gale. With a fair wind, it rarely makes more 
 than eight knots an hour, and in a calm, the sailors (if not too 
 lazy) propel it forward with six long oars. The hull is painted 
 in a fanciful style, generally blue, red, green and white, with 
 bright red masts. The bulwarks are low, and the deck of such 
 a convexity that it is quite impossible to walk it in a heavy sea. 
 Such was the vessel to which I found myself consigned. It was 
 not more than fifty feet long, and of less capacity than a Nile 
 dahabiyeh. There was a sort of deck cabin, or crib, with two 
 berths, but most of the passengers slept in the hold. For a 
 passage to Catania I was obliged to pay forty francs, the 
 owner swearing that this was the regular price ; but, as I 
 afterwards discovered, the Maltese only paid thirty-six francs 
 for the whole trip. However, the Captain tried to make up 
 the money's worth in civilities, and was incessant in his atten- 
 tions to " your Lordships," as he styled myself and my com- 
 panion, Csesai" di Cagnola, a young Milanese. 
 
 The Maltese were tailors and clerks, who were taking a 
 holiday trip to witness the great festival of St. Agatha. With 
 two exceptions, they were a wild and senseless, though good- 
 natured set, and in spite of sea-sickness, which exercised them 
 terribly for the first two days, kept up a constant jabber in 
 their bastard Arabic from morning till night. As is usual in 
 such a company, one of them was obliged to serve as a butt for 
 the rest, and " Maestro Paolo," as they termed him, wore such 
 a profoundly serious face • all the while, from his sea-sickness, 
 that the fun never came to an end. As they were going to a 
 religious festival, some of them had brought their breviaries 
 along with them ; but I am obliged to testify that, after the 
 first day, prayers were totally forgotten. The sailors, how- 
 
SICILY. 865 
 
 ever, wore linen bags, printed with a figure of the Madonna, 
 around their necks. 
 
 The sea was rather rough, but Csesar and I fortified our 
 stomachs with a bottle of English ale, and as it was dark by 
 this time, sought our resting-places for the night. As we had 
 paid double, places were assured us in the coop on deck, but 
 beds were not iucluded in the bargain. The Maltese, who had 
 brought mattresses and spread a large Phalansterian bed in 
 the hold, fared much better. I took one of my carpet bags 
 for a pillow and lay down on the planks, where I succeeded in 
 getting a little sleep between the groans of the helpless land- 
 lubbers. "We had the ponente, or west-wind, all night, but the 
 speronara moTcd sluggishly, and in the morning it changed to 
 the greco-hvante, or north-east. No land was in sight ; but 
 towards noon, the sky became clearer, and we saw the southern 
 coast of Sicily — a bold mountain-shore, looming phantom-like 
 in the distance. Cape Passaro was to the east, and the rest of 
 the day was spent in beating up to it. At sunset, we were 
 near enough to see the villages and olive-groves of the beauti- 
 ful shore, and, far behind the nearer mountains, ninety miles 
 distant, the solitary cone of Etna. 
 
 The second night passed like the fii^t, except that our 
 bruised limbs were rather more sensitive to the texture of the 
 planks. We crawled out of our coop at dawn, expecting to 
 behold Catania in the distance ; but there was Cape Passaro 
 still staring us in the face. The Maltese were patient, and we 
 did not complain, though Csesar and I began to make nice cal- 
 culations as to the probable duration of our two cold fowls 
 and three loaves of bread. The promontory of Syracuse was 
 barely visibJs forty miles ahead ; but the wind was against us, 
 
366 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 and so another day passed in beating up the eastern coast 
 At dusk, we overtook another speronara which had left Malta 
 two hours before us, and this was quite a triumph to our cap- 
 taui. All the oars were shipped, the sailors and some of the 
 more courageous passengers took hold, and we shot ahead, 
 scudding rapidly along the dark shores, to the sound of the 
 wild Maltese songs. At length, the promontory was gained, 
 and the restless current, rolling down from Scylla and Charyb- 
 dis, tossed our little bark from wave to wave with a reckless- 
 ness that would have made any one nervous but an old sailor 
 like myself. 
 
 "To-morrow morning,'' said the Captain, "we shall sail into 
 Catania ;" but after a third night on the planks, which were 
 now a little softer, we rose to find ourselves abreast of Syra- 
 cuse, with Etna as distant as ever. The wind was light, and 
 what little we made by tacking was swept away by the cur- 
 rent, so that, after wasting the whole forenoon, we kept a 
 straight course across the mouth of the channel, and at sunset 
 saw the Calabrian Mountains. This move only lost us more 
 ground, as it happened. Csesar and I mournfully and silently 
 consumed our last fragment of beef, with the remaining dry 
 crusts of bread, an(J then sat down doggedly to smoke and see 
 whether the captain would discover our situation. But no ; 
 while we were supplied, the whole vessel was at our Lordships' 
 command, and now that we were destitute, he took care to 
 make no rash offers. Csesar, at last, with an imperial dignity 
 becoming his name, commanded dinner-. It came, and the pork 
 and maccaroni, moistened with^-red Sicilian wine, gave us 
 patience for another day. 
 
 The fourth morning dawned, and — Great Neptune be 
 
THE GULP OF CATANIA. 361 
 
 praised ! — we were actually withia the Gulf of Ca,tania. Etna 
 loomed up in all his sublime bulk, unobscured by cloud or mist, 
 while a slender jet of smoke, rising from his crater, was slowly 
 curling its wreaths in the clear air, as if happy to receive the 
 first beam of the sun. The towers of Syracuse, which had 
 mocked us all the preceding day, were no longer visible ; the 
 land-locked little port of Augusta lay behind us ; and, as the 
 wind continued favorable, ere long we saw a faint white mark 
 at the foot of the mountain. This was Catania. The shores 
 of the bay were enlivened with olive-groves and the gleam of 
 the villages, while here and there a single palm dreamed of its 
 brothers across the sea. Etna, of course, had the monarch's 
 place in the landscape, but even his large, magnificent outlines 
 could not usurp all my feeling. The purple peaks to the west- 
 ward and farther inland, had a beauty of their own, and in the 
 gentle curves with which they leaned towards each other, there 
 was a promise of the flowery meadows of Enna. The smooth 
 blue w^ater was speckled with fishing-boats. We hailed one, 
 inquiring when the ftsta was to commence ; but, mistaking our 
 question, they answered: "Anchovies." Thereupon, a wag- 
 gish Maltese informed them that Maestro Paolo thanked them 
 heartily. All the other boats were haiied in the name of 
 Maestro Paolo, who, having recovered from his sea-sickness, 
 took his bantering good-humoredly. 
 
 Catania presented a lovely picture, as we drew near the 
 harbor. Planted at the very foot of Etna, it has a background 
 such as neither Naples nor Genoa can boast. The hills next 
 the sea are covered with gardens and orchards, sprinkled with 
 little villages and the country palaces of the nobles — a rich, 
 culturea landscape, which gradually merges into the forests of 
 
868 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 oak and chestnut that girdle the waist of the great volcano. 
 But all the wealth of southern vegetation cannot hide the 
 footsteps of that Ruin, which from time to time visits the soil. 
 Half-way up, the mountain-side is dotted with cones of ashes and 
 cinders, some covered with the scanty shrubbery which centuries « 
 have called forth, some barren and recent ; while two dark, 
 winding streams of sterile lava descend to the very shore, 
 where they stand congealed in ragged needles and pyramids. 
 Part of one of these black floods has swept the town, and, 
 tumbling into the sea, walls one side of the port. 
 
 We glided slowly past the mole, and dropped anchor a few 
 yards from the shore. There was a sort of open promenade 
 planted with trees, in front of us, surrounded with high white 
 houses, above which rose the dome of the Cathedral and the 
 spires of other churches. The magnificent palace of Prince 
 Biscari was on our right, and at its foot the Customs and 
 Revenue ofSces. Every roof, portico, and window was lined 
 with lamps, a triumphal arch spanned the street before the 
 palace, and the landing-place at the offices was festooned with 
 crimson and white drapery, spangled with gold. While we 
 were waiting permission to land, a scene presented itself which 
 recalled the pagan liays of Sicily to my mind. A procession 
 came in sight from under the trees, and passed along the shore. 
 In the centre was borne a stately shrine, hung with garlands, 
 and containing an image of St. Agatha. The sound of flutes 
 and cymbals accompanied it, and a band of children, bearing 
 orange and palm branches, danced riotously before. Had the 
 image been Pan instead of St. Agatha, the ceremonies would 
 have been quite as appropriate. 
 
 The speronara's boat at last took us to the gorgeous landing- 
 
THE SUSPECTED LIST. 369 
 
 place, where we were carefully counted by a fat Sicilian official, 
 and declared free from quarantine. "We were then called into 
 the Passport Office, where the Maltese underwent a searching 
 examination. One of the officers sat with the Black Book, or 
 list of suspected persons of all nations, open before him, and 
 looked for each name as it was called out. Another scanned 
 the faces of the frightened tailors, as if comparing them with 
 certain revolutionary visages in his mind. Terrible was the 
 keen, detective glance of his eye, and it went straight through 
 the poor Maltese, who vanished with great rapidity when they 
 were declared free to enter the city. At last, they all passed 
 the ordeal, bat Csesar and I remained, looking in at the door. 
 " There are still these two Frenchmen," said the captain. " I 
 am no Frenchman," I protested ; " I am an American." "And 
 I," said Csesar, "am an Austrian subject." Thereupon we 
 received a polite invitation to enter ; the terrible glance softened 
 into a benign, respectful smile ; he of the Black Book ran 
 lightly over the C's and T's, and- said, with a courteous inclina- 
 tion : " There is nothing against the signori." I felt quite 
 relieved by this ; for, in the Mediterranean, one is nev^ safe 
 from spies, and no person is too insignificant to escape the ban, 
 if once, suspected. -• m 
 
 Calabria was filled to overflowing with strangers from all 
 parts of the Two Sicilies, and we had some difficulty in finding 
 very bad and dear lodgings. It was the first day of the/esto, 
 and the streets were fiUed with peasants, the men in black 
 velvet jackets and breeches, with stockings, and long white cot- 
 ton caps hanging on the shoulders, and the women with gay 
 silk shawls on their heads, after the manner of the Mexican 
 reboza. In all the public squares, the market scene in Masa- 
 
 16* 
 
370 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 niello was acted to the life. The Sicilian dialect is harsh and 
 barbarous, and the original Italian is so disguised by the admix- 
 ture of Arabic, Spanish, French, and Greek words, that even 
 my imperial friend, who was a born Italian, had great difficulty 
 in understanding the people. 
 
 I purchased a guide to the festa, which, among other things, 
 contained a biography of St. Agatha. It is a beautiful speci- 
 men of pious writing, and I regret that I have not space to 
 translate the whole of it. Agatha was a beautiful Catanian 
 virgin, who secretly embraced Christianity during the reign of 
 Nero. Catania was then governed by a praetor named Quin- 
 tianus, who, becoming enamored of Agatha, used the most 
 brutal means to compel her to submit to his desires, but with- 
 out effect. At last, driven to the crnelest extremes, he cut off 
 her breasts, and threw her into prison. But at midnight, St. 
 Peter, accompanied by an angel, appeared to her, restored the 
 maimed parts, and left her more beautiful than ever. Quin- 
 ■tianus then ordered a furnace to be heated, and cast her 
 therein. A terrible earthquake shook the city ; the sun was 
 eclipjed ; the sea rolled backwards, and left its bottom dry ; 
 the praetor's palace fell in ruins, and he, pursued by the ven- 
 geance of the populace, fled till he reached the river Simeto, 
 where he was drowned in attempting to cross. "The thunders 
 of the vengeance of God," says the biography, " struck him 
 down into the profoundest Hell 1" This was in the year 
 252. 
 
 The body was carried to Constantinople in 1040, " although 
 the Catanians wept incessantly at their loss ;" but in 1126, two 
 French knights, named Gilisbert and Goselin, were moved by 
 angelic influences to restore it to its native town, which they 
 
THE ILLUinNATION. 371 
 
 accomplished, " and the eyes of the Catanians again burned 
 with joy." The miracles effected by the saint are numberless, 
 and her power is especially efficacious in preventing earth- 
 quakes and eruptions of Mount Etna. Nevertheless, Catania 
 has suffered more from these causes than any other town in 
 Sicily. Bat I would that all saints had as good a claim to 
 canonization as St. Agatha. The honors of such a festival as 
 this are not out of place, when paid to such youth, beauty, 
 and " heavenly chastity," as she typifies. 
 
 The guide, which I have already consulted, gives a full 
 account of the festa, in advance, with a description of Catania. 
 The author says : "If thy heart is not inspired by gazing on 
 this lovely city, it is a fatal sign — thou wert not born to feel 
 the sweet impulses of the Beautiful 1" Then, in announcing 
 the illuminations and pyrotechnic displays, he exclaims : " Oh, 
 the amazing spectacle ! Oh, how happy art thou, that thou 
 beholdest it I What pyramids of lamps ! What myriads of 
 rockets ! What wonderful temples of flame t The Mountain 
 himself is astonished at such a display.'' And truly, except 
 the illumination of the Golden Horn on the Night of Eredea- 
 tination, I have seen nothing equal to the spectacle presented 
 by Catania, during the past three nights. The city, which has 
 been built up from her ruins more stately than ever, was in a 
 blaze of light — all her domes, towers, and the long lines of her 
 beautiful palaces revealed in the varying red and golden flames 
 of a hundred thousand lamps and torches. Pyramids of fire, 
 transparencies, and illuminated triumphal arches filled the four 
 principal streets, and the fountain in the Cathedral square 
 gleamed like a jet of molten silver, spinning up from one of the 
 pores of Etna. At ten o'clock, a gorgeous display of fire-worka 
 
372 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 closed the day's festivities, but the lamps remained bnming 
 nearly all night. 
 
 On the second night, the grand Procession of the Veil took 
 place. I witnessed this imposing spectacle from the balcony 
 of Prince Gessina's palace. Long lines of waxen torches led 
 the way, followed by a military band, and then a company of 
 the highest prelates, in their most brilliant costumes, surround- 
 ing the Bishop, who walked under a canopy of silk and gold, 
 bearing the miraculous veil of St. Agatha. I was blessed with 
 a distant view of it, but could see no traces of the rosy hue 
 left upon it by the flames of the Saint's martyrdom. Behind 
 the priests came the Intendente of Sicily, Gen. Filangieri, the 
 same who, three years ago, gave up Catania to sack and 
 slaughter. He was followed by the Senate of the City, who 
 have just had the cringing cowardice to offer him a ball on 
 next Sunday night. If ever a man deserved the vengeance of 
 an outraged people, it is this Filangieri, who was first a Liberal, 
 when the cause promised success, and then made himself the 
 scourge of the vilest of kings. As he passed me last night in 
 his carriage of State, while the music pealed in rich rejoicing 
 strains, that solemn chant with which the monks break upon 
 the revellers, in " Lucrezia Borgia," came into my mind : 
 
 "La gioja dei profani 
 ' E nil fumo passagier' — " 
 
 [the rejoicing of the profane is a transitory mist.] I heard, 
 under the din of all these festivities, the voice of that Retrib* 
 tion which even now lies in wait, and will not long be delayed. 
 To-night Signor Scavo, the American Vice-Consul, took me 
 to the palace of Prince Biscari, overlooking the harbor, in 
 
THE BISCARI PALACE. 313 
 
 order to behold the grand display of fireworks from the end of 
 the nuDle. The showers of rockets and colored stars, and the 
 temples of blue and silver fire, were repeated in the dark, quiet 
 bosom of the sea, producing the most dazzling and startling 
 effects. There was a large number of the Catauese nobility 
 present, and among them a Marchesa Gioveni, the descendant 
 of the bloody house of Anjou. Prince Biscari is a benign, 
 courtly old man, and greatly esteemed here. His son is at 
 present in exile, on account of the part he took in the late 
 revolution. During the sack of the city under Filangieri, the 
 palace was plundered of property to the amount of ten thou- 
 sand dollars. The museum of Greek and Boman antiquities 
 attached to it, and which the house of Biscari has been collect- 
 ing for many years, is probably the finest in Sicily. The state 
 apartments were thrown open this evening, and when I left, an 
 hour ago, the greater portion of the guests were going through 
 mazy quadrilles on the mosaic pavements. 
 
 Among the antiquities of Catania which I have visited, are 
 the Amphitheatre, capable of holding 15,000 persons, the old 
 Greek Theatre, the same in which Alcibiades made hia noted 
 harangue to the Catanians, the Odeon, and the ancient Baths. 
 The theatre, which is in tolerable preservation, is built of lava, 
 like many of the modern edifices in the city. The Baths 
 proved to me, what I had supposed, that the Oriental Bath of 
 the present day is identical with that of the Ancients. Why 
 so admirable an institution has never been introduced into 
 Europe (except in the Bains Chinois of Paris) is more than I 
 can tell. From the pavement of these baths, which is nearly 
 twenty feet below the surface of the earth, the lava of later 
 eruptions has burst up, in places, in hard black jets. The most 
 
314 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 wonderful token of that flood ^wHch whelmed Catania two 
 hundred years ago, is to be seen at the Grand Benedictine 
 Convent of San Nicola, in the upper part of the city. Here 
 the stream of lava divides itself just before the Convent, and 
 flows past on both sides, leaving the building and gardens 
 untouched. The marble courts, the fountains, the splendid 
 galleries, and the gardens of richest southern bloom and fra- 
 grance, stand like an epicurean island in the midst of the terri- 
 ble stony waves, whose edges bristle with the thorny aloe and 
 cactus. The monks of San Nicola are all chosen from the 
 Sicilian nobility, and live a comfortable life of luxury and vice. 
 Each one has his own carriage, horses, and servants, and each 
 his private chambers outside of the convent walls and his kept 
 concubines. These facts are known and acknowledged by the 
 Catanians, to whom they are a lasting scandal. 
 
 It is past midnight, and I must close. Caesar started this 
 afternoon, alone, for the ascent of Etna. I would have accom- 
 panied him, but my only chance of reaching Messina in time 
 for the next steamer to Naples is the diligence which leaves 
 here to-morrow. The mountain has been covered with clouds 
 'or the last two days, and I have had no view at- all compara- 
 ble to that of the morning of my arrival. To-morrow the 
 grand procession of the Body of St. Agatha takes place, but 
 I am quite satisfied with three days of processions and horse 
 races, and three nights of illuminations. 
 
 I leave in the morning, with a Sicilian passport, my own 
 availing me nothing, after landing. 
 
THE MOUNTAIN THREATENS. 375 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE EEUniON OP MOUNT ETNA. 
 
 the Mountain Threatena — The Si|ps Increase— We Leave Catania^— Sardens AmoDg 
 the Lava — Etna Labors — Aci Eeale — The Groans of Etna — The Eruption — Gigantio 
 Tree of Smoke— Formation of the New Crater — ^We Lose Sight of the Mountain — Ai-rival 
 at Messina — Etna is Obscured — Departure. 
 
 -"the shattered , aide 
 
 Of thundering ^tna, whose com5)ustible 
 
 And fUelM entrails thence conceiving fire, 
 
 Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds, 
 
 And leave a singed bottom." Milton, 
 
 MissiSA, Sioily, Monday, Augmt 28, 1852. 
 
 The noises of the festival had not ceased when I closed my 
 letter at midnight, on Friday last. I slept soundly through 
 the night, but was awakened before sunrise by my Sicilian land- 
 lord. " 0, Bxcellenza ! hare you heard the Mountain ? He is 
 going to break out again ; may the holy Santa Agatha protect 
 us I" It is rather ill-timed on the part of the Mountain, was 
 my involuntary first thought, that he should choose for a new 
 eruption precisely the centennial festival of the only Saint who 
 is supposed to have any power over him. It shows a disregard 
 of female influence not at all suited to the present day, and I 
 scarcely believe that he seriously means it. Next came along 
 the jabbering landlady : " I don't like his looks. It was just 
 so the last time. Come, Excellenza, yon can see him from the 
 
3Y6 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 back terrace.'' The sun was not yet risen, but the east was 
 bright with his coming, and there was not a cloud in the sky. 
 All the features of Etna were sharply sculptured in the clear 
 air. From the topmost cone, a thick stream of white smoke 
 was slowly puffed out at short intervals, and rolled lazily down 
 the eastern side. It had a heayy, languid character, and I 
 should have thought nothing of the appearance but for the 
 alarm of my hosts. It was like the slow fire of Earth's 
 incense, burning on that grand mountain altar. 
 
 I hurried off to the Post Of&ce, to await the arrival of the 
 diligence from Palermo. The office is in the Strada Etnea, 
 the main street of Catania, which runs straight through the 
 city, from the sea to the base of the mountain, whose peak 
 closes the long vista. The diligence was an hour later than 
 usual, and I passed the time in watching the smoke which con- 
 tinued to increase in volume, and was mingled, from time to 
 time, with jets of inky blackness. The postilion said he had 
 seen fires and heard loud noises during the night. According 
 to his account, the disturbances commenced about midnight. 
 I could not but envy my friend Caesar, who was probably at 
 that moment on the summit, looking down into the seething 
 fires of the crater. 
 
 At last, we rolled out of Catania. There were in the dili- 
 gence, besides myself, two men and a woman, Sicilians of the 
 secondary class. The road followed the shore, over rugged 
 tracts of lava, the different epochs of which could be distinctly 
 traced in the character of the vegetation. The last great flow 
 (of 1619) stood. piled in long ridges of terrible sterility, barely 
 allowing the aloe and cactus to take root in the hollows between. 
 The older deposits were sufficiently decomposed to nourish 
 
THE MOUNTAIN LABORS. 377 
 
 the olive and vine ; but even here, the orchards were studded 
 with pyramids of the harder fragments, which are laboriously 
 collected by the husbandmen. In the few favored spots which 
 have been untouched for so many ages that a tolerable depth of 
 soil has accumulated, the vegetation has all the richness and 
 brilliancy of tropical lands. The palm, orange, and pome- 
 granate thrive luxuriantly, and the vines almost break under 
 their heavy clusters. The villages are frequent and well built, 
 and the hills are studded, far and near, with the villas of rich 
 proprietors, mostly buildings of one story, with verandahs 
 extending their whole length. Looking up towards Etna, 
 whose base the road encircles, the tiews are gloriously rich and 
 beautiful. On the other hand is the blue Mediterranean and 
 the irregular outline of the shore, here and there sending forth 
 promontories of lava, cooled by the waves into the most fan- 
 tastic forms. 
 
 We had not proceeded far before a new sign called my 
 attention to the mountain. Not only was there a perceptible 
 jar or vibration in the earth, but a dull, groaning sound, like 
 the muttering of distant thunder, began to be heard. The 
 smoke increased in volume, and, as we advanced further to the 
 eastward, and much nearer to the great cone, I perceived that 
 it consisted of two jets, issuing from different mouths. A 
 broad stream of very dense white smoke still flowed . over the 
 lip of the topmost crater and down the eastern side. As its 
 breadth did not vary, and the edges were distinctly defined, it 
 was no doubt the sulphureous vapor rising from a river of 
 molten lava. Perhaps a thousand yards below, a much stronger 
 column of mingled black and white smoke gushed up, in regular 
 beats or pants, from a depression in the mountain side, between 
 
318 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 two small, extinct cones. All this part of Etna was scarred 
 with deep chasms, and in the bottoms of those nearest the 
 opening, I could see the red gleam of fire. The air was per- 
 fectly still, and as yet there was no cloud in the sky.- 
 
 When we stopped to change horses at the town of Aci 
 Reals, I first felt the violence of the tremor and the awful 
 sternness of the sound. The smoke by this time seemed to be 
 gathering on the side towards Catania, and hung in a dark 
 mass about half-way down the mountain. Groups of the vil- 
 lagers were gathered in the streets which looked upwards to 
 Etna, and discussing the chances of an eruption. "Ah," said 
 an old peasant, " the Mountain knows how to make himself 
 respected. When he talks, everybody listens." The sound 
 was the most awful that ever met my ears. It was a hard, 
 painful moan, now and then fluttering like a suppressed sob, 
 and had, at the same time, an expression of threatening and of 
 agony. It did not come from Etna alone. It had no fixed 
 location ; it pervaded all space. It was in the air, in the 
 depths of the sea, in the earth under my feet — everywhere, in 
 fact ; and as it continued to increase in violence, I experienced 
 a sensation of positive pain. The people looked anxious and 
 alarmed, although they said it was a good thing for all Sicily ; 
 that last year they had been in constant fear from earthquakes, 
 and that an eruption invariably left the island quiet for several 
 years. It is true that, during the past year, parts of Sicily 
 and Calabria have been visited with severe shocks, occasioning 
 much damage to property. A merchant of this city informed 
 me yesterday that his whole family had slept for two months 
 in the vaults of his warehouse, fearing that their residence 
 might be shaken down in the night. 
 
THE ERUPTION. 319 
 
 As we rode along from Aci Reale to Taormina, all the rat- 
 tling of the diligence over the rough road could not drown 
 the awful noise. There was a strong smell of sulphur in the 
 air, and the thick pants of smoke from the lower crater con- 
 tinued to increase in strength. The sun was fierce and hot, 
 and the edges of the sulphureous clouds shone with a dazzling 
 whiteness. A mounted soldier overtook us, and rode beside 
 the diligence, talking with the postillion. He had been up to 
 the mountain, and was taking his report to the Governor of 
 the district. The heat of the day and the continued tremor 
 of the air lulled me into a sort of doze, when I was suddenly- 
 aroused by a cry from the soldier and the stopping of the dili- 
 gence. At the same time, there was a terrific peal of sound, 
 followed by a jar which must have shaken the whole island. 
 We looked up to Etna, which was fortunately in full view 
 before us. An immense mass of snow-white smoke had burst 
 up from the crater and was rising perpendicularly into the air, 
 its rounded volumes rapidly whirling one over the other, yet 
 urged with such impetus that they only rolled outwards after 
 they had ascended to an immense height. It might have been 
 one minute or five — for I was so entranced by this wonderful 
 spectacle that I lost the sense of time — but it seemed instant- 
 aneous (so rapid and violent were the effects of the explosion), 
 when there stood in the air, based on the summit of the moun- 
 tain, a mass of smoke four or five miles high, and shaped pre- 
 cisely like the Italian pine tree. 
 
 Words cannot paint the grandeur of this mighty tree. Its 
 trunk of columned smoke, one side of which was silvered by the 
 sun, while the other, in shadow, was lurid with red flame, rose 
 for more than a mile before it sent out its cloudy boughs. Then 
 
380 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 parting into a thousand streams, each of which again threw 
 out its branching tufts of smoke, rolling and waving in the air,' 
 it stood in intense relief against the dark blue of the sky. Its 
 rounded masses of foliage were dazzlingly white on • one side, 
 while, in the shadowy depths of the branches, there was a con- 
 stant play of brown, yellow, and crimson tints, revealing the 
 central shaft of fire. It was like the tree celebrated in the 
 Scandinavian sagas, as seen by the mother of Harold Har- 
 drada — that tree, whose roots pierced through the earth, whose 
 trunk was of the color of blood, and whose branches filled the 
 uttermost corners of the heavens. 
 
 This outburst seemed to have relieved the mountain, for the 
 tremors were now less violent, though the terrible noise stUl 
 droned in the air, and earth, and sea. And now, from the 
 base of the tree, three white streams slowly crept into as many 
 separate chasms, against the walls of which played the flicker- 
 ing glow of the burning lava. The column of smoke and flame 
 was still hurled upwards, and the tree, after standing about 
 ten minutes — a new and awful revelation of the active forces 
 of Nature — ^gradually rose and spread, lost its form, and, 
 slqjvly moved by a light wind (the first that disturbed the dead 
 calm of the day), bent over to the eastward. We resumed 
 our course. The vast belt of smoke at last arched over the 
 strait, here about twenty miles wide, and sank towards the 
 distant Calabrian shore. As we drove under it, for some miles 
 of our way, the sun was totally obscured, and the sky pre- 
 sented the singular spectacle of two hemispheres of clear blue, 
 with a broad belt of darkness drawn between them. There 
 was a hot, sulphureous vapor in the air, and showers of white 
 ashes fell, from time to time. We were distant about twelve 
 
WE LOSK SIGHT OF ETNA. 381 
 
 miles, in a straight line, from the crater ; but the air was so 
 clear, even under the shadow of the smoke, that I could dis- 
 tinctly trace the downward movement of the rivers of lava. 
 
 This was the eruption, at last, to which all the phenomena 
 of the morning had been only preparatory. For the first time 
 in ten years the depths of Etna had been stirred, and I thanked 
 God for my detention at Malta, and the singular hazard of 
 travel which had brought me here, to his very base, to witness 
 a scene, the impression of which I shall never lose, to my dying 
 day. Although the eruption may continue and the mountain 
 ponr forth fiercer fires and broader tides of lava, I cannot but 
 think that the first upheaval, which lets out the long-imprisoned 
 forces, will not be equalled in grandeur by any later spectacle. 
 
 After passing Taormina, our road led us under the hills of 
 the coast, and although I occasionally caught glimpses of Etna; 
 and saw the reflection of fires from the lava which was filling 
 up his savage ravines, the smoke at last encircled his waist, 
 and he was then shut out of sight by the intervening moun- 
 tains. We lost a bolt in a deep valley opening on the sea, and 
 during our stoppage I could still hear the groans of the Moun- 
 tain, though farther off and less painful to the ear.' As 
 evening came on, the beautiful hills of Calabria, with white 
 towns and villages on their sides, gleamed in the purple light 
 of the setting sun. We drove around headland after headland, 
 till the strait opened, and we looked over the harbor of Messina 
 to Capo Faro, and the distant islands of the Tyrrhene Sea. 
 
 I leave this afternoon for JN'aples and Leghorn. I have lost 
 already so much time between Constantinople and this place, 
 
582 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 that I cannot give up ten days more to Etna. Besides, I am 
 so thoroughly satisfied with what I have seen, that I fear no 
 second view of the eruption could equal it. Etna cannot be 
 seen from here, nor from a nearer point than a mountain six or 
 eight miles distant. I tried last evening to get a horse and 
 ride out to it, in order to see the appearance of the eruption 
 by night ; but every horse, mule and donkey in the place was 
 engaged, except a miserable lame mule, for which five dollars 
 was demanded. However, the night happened to be cloudy, 
 so that I could have seen nothing. 
 
 My passport is finally en regie. It has cost the labors of 
 myself and an able-bodied valet-de-place since yesterday morning, 
 and the expenditure of five dollars and a half, to accomplish 
 this great work. I have just been righteously abusing the 
 Neapolitan Government to a native merchant whom, from his 
 name, I took to be a Frenchman, but as I am off in an hour or 
 two, hope to escape arrest. Perdition to all Tyranny ! 
 
UNWKITTEN LINKS OF TRAVEL. 383 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIl. 
 
 GIBRALTAR. 
 
 Dnwrittefl Links of Travel— Departnre from Southampton— The Bay of Biscay— CSntr* 
 —Trafalgar — G-ibraltar at Midnight — ^Landing — Search for a Palm-Tree — A BrilliaLt 
 Morning— The Convexity of the Earth— Bun-Worship — The Kock. 
 
 • " to the north-west, Cape St. Vincent died away, 
 
 Sunset ran, a burning blood-red, blushing into Cadiz Bay. 
 In the dimmest north-east distance dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray." 
 
 Bbowkinq. 
 
 Gibraltar, Satwrday^ Soveml)er 6, 1852. 
 
 I LEAVE unrecorded the links of travel which connected Mes- 
 sina and Gibraltar. They were over the well-trodden fields of 
 Europe, where little ground is left that is not familiar. In 
 leaving Sicily I lost the Saracenic trail, which I had been fol- 
 lowing through the East, and first find it again here, on the 
 rock of Calpe, whose name, Djeld d-Tarik (the Mountain of 
 Tarik), still speaks of the fiery race whose rule extended from 
 the unknown ocean of the West to " Ganges and Hydaspes, 
 Indian streams.'^ In Malta and Sicily, I saw their decaying 
 watch-towers, and recognized their sign-manual in the deep, 
 guttural, masculine words and expressions which they have 
 left behind them. I now design following their footsteps 
 through the beautiful Bdad-el-Andaluz, which, to the eye of 
 
884 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 the Melek Abd-er-rahman, was only less lovely than the plains 
 of Damascus. 
 
 While in Constantinople, I received letters which opened to 
 me wider and richer fields of travel than I had already tra- 
 versed. I saw a possibility of exploring the far Indian realms, 
 the shores of farthest Cathay and the famed Zipaugo of Marco 
 Polo. Before entering on this new sphere of experiences, how- 
 ever, it was necessary for me to visit Italy, Germany, and 
 England. I sailed from Messina to Leghorn, and travelled 
 thence, by way of Florence, Venice, and the Tyrol, to Munich 
 After three happy weeks at Gotha, and among the valleys of 
 the Thuringian Forest, I went to London, where business and 
 the preparation for my new journeys detained me two or three 
 weeks longer. Although the comforts of European civilization 
 were pleasant, as a change, after the wild life of the Orient, the 
 autumnal rains of England soon made me homesick for the 
 sunshine I had left. The weather was cold, dark, and dreary, 
 and the oppressive, sticky atmosphere of the bituminous metro- 
 polis weighed upon me like a nightmare. Heartily tired of 
 looking at a sun that could show nothing brighter than a red 
 copper disk, and of breathing an air that peppered my face 
 with particles of soot, I left on the 28th of October. It was 
 one of the dismalest days 'of autumn ; the meadows of Berk- 
 shire were flooded with broad, muddy streams, and the woods 
 on the hills of Hampshire looked brown and sodden, as if 
 slowly rotting away. I reached Southampton at .dusk, but 
 there the sky was neicher warmer nor clearer, so I spent the 
 evening over a coal firr,, all impatience for the bright beloved 
 South, towards which ray face was turned once more. 
 
 The Madras left on tii« next day, at 2 p.m., in the midst of 
 
THE BAT OP BISCAY. 386 
 
 a cheerless rain, which half blotted out the pleasant shores of 
 Southampton Water, and the Isle of Wight. The Madras 
 was a singularly appropriate vessel for one bound on such a 
 journey as mine. The surgeon was Dr. Mungo Park, and one 
 of my room-mates was Mr. B.. Crusoe. It was a Friday, 
 which boded no good for the voyage ; but then my journey com- 
 menced with my leaving London the day previous, and Thurs- 
 day is a lucky day among the Arabs. I caught a watery view 
 of the gray cliffs of the Needles, when dinner was announced, 
 but many were those (and I among them) who commenced 
 that meal, and did not stay to finish it. 
 
 Is there any piece of water more unreasonably, distressingly, 
 disgustingly rough and perverse than the British Channel? 
 Yes : there is one, and but one — ^the Bay of Biscay. And as 
 the latter succeeds the former, without a pause between, and 
 the head-winds never ceased, and the rain continually poured, 
 I leave you to draw the climax of my misery. Four days and 
 four nights in a berth, lying on your back, now dozing duU 
 hour after hour, now making faint endeavors to eat, or reading 
 the feeblest novel ever written, because the mind cannot digest 
 stronger aliment — can there be a greater contrast to the wide' 
 awake life, the fiery inspiration, of the Orient? My blood 
 became so sluggish and my mind so cloudy and befogged, that 
 I despaired of ever thinking clearly or feeling vividly again. 
 "The winds are rude" in Biscay, Byron says. They are, 
 indeed : very rude. They must have been raised in some most 
 disorderly quarter of the globe. They pitched the waves right 
 over our bulwarks, and now and then dashed a bucketful of 
 water down the cabin skylight, swamping the ladies' cabin, and 
 setting scores of bandboxes afloat. Not that there was the 
 
886 THE LANDS OT THE SAKACEN. 
 
 least actual danger ; but Mrs. would not be persuaded 
 
 that we were not on ttie brink of destruction, and wrote to 
 friends at home a voluminous account of her feelings. There 
 was an Irishman on board, bound to Italy, with Ms sister. It 
 was his first tour, and when asked why he did not go direct, 
 through France, he replied, with brotherly concern, that he 
 was anxious his sister should see the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 This youth's perceptions were of such an emerald hue, that 
 a lot of wicked Englishmen had their own fun out of him. 
 The other day, he was trying to shave, to the great danger of 
 slicing off his nose, as the vessel was rolling fearfully. " Why 
 don't you have the ship headed to the wind ?" said one of thtj 
 Englishmen, who Heard his complaints ; " she will then lie 
 steady, and you can shave beautifully." Thereupon the Irish- 
 man sent one of the stewards upon deck with a polite message 
 to the captain, begging him to put the vessel about for five 
 minutes. 
 
 Towards noon of the fifth day, we saw the dark, rugged 
 mountains that guard the north-western corner of the Spanish 
 Peninsula. We passed the Bay of Corunna, and rounding the 
 bold headland of Finisterre, left the Biscayan billows behind 
 us. But the sea was still rough and the sky clouded, although 
 the next morning the mildness of the air showed the change in 
 our latitude. About noon that day, we made the Burlings, a 
 cluster of rocks forty miles north of Lisbon, and just before 
 sunset, a transient lifting of the clouds revealed the Rock of 
 Cintra, at the mouth of the Tagus. The tall, perpendicular 
 cliffs, and the mountain slopes behind, covered with gardens, 
 orchards, and scattered villas and hamlets, made a grand 
 though dim picture, which was soon hidden from our view. 
 
LANDING AT GIBRALTAR. 387 
 
 Oa the 4th, we were nearly all day crossing the mouth of 
 the Bay of Cadiz, and only at sunset saw Cape Trafalgar afar 
 off, glimmering through the reddish haze. I remained on deck, 
 as there were patches of starlight in the sky. After passing 
 the light-house at Tarifa, the Spanish shore continued to be 
 visible. In another hour, there was a dim, cloudy outline high 
 above the horizon, on our right. This was the Lesser Atlas, 
 in Morocco. And now, right ahead, distinctly visible, though 
 fifteen mUes distant, lay a colossal lion, with Ms head on hia 
 outstretched paws, looking towards Africa. If I had been 
 brought to the spot blindfolded, I should have known what it 
 was. The resemblance is certainly very striking, and the light- 
 house on Europa Point seemed to be a lamp held in his paws. 
 The lights of the city and fortifications rose one by one, glit- 
 tering along the base, and at midnight we dropped anchor 
 before them on the western side. 
 
 I landed yesterday morning.. The mists, which had followed 
 me from England, had collected behind the Rock, and the sun, 
 ■^till hidden by its huge bulk, shone upwards through them, 
 making a luminous background, against which the lofty walls 
 and jagged ramparts of this tremendous natural fortification 
 were clearly defined. I announced my name, and the length 
 of time I designed remaining, at a little ofSce on the quay, and 
 was then allowed to pass into the city. A number ot familiar 
 white turbans met me on entering, and I could not resist the 
 temptation of cordially saluting the owners in their own lan- 
 guage. The town is long and narrow, lying steeply against 
 the Rock. The houses are white, yellow and pink, as in 
 Spanish towns, but the streets are clean and well paved. 
 There is a square, about the size of an ordinary building-lot. 
 
388 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 where a sort of market of dry goods and small articles is held. 
 The "Club-House Hotel" occupies one side of it; and, as I 
 look out of my window upon it, I see the topmost cliffs of the 
 Rock above me, threatening to topple down from a height of 
 1,500 feet. 
 
 My first walk in Gibraltar was in search of a palm-tree. 
 After threading the whole length of the town, I found two 
 small ones in a garden, in the bottom of the old moat. The 
 sun was shining, and his rays seemed to fall with double 
 warmth on their feathery crests. Three brOwn Spaniards, 
 bare-armed, were drawing water with a pole and bucket, and 
 filling the little channels which conveyed it to the distant vege- 
 tables. The sea glittered blue below ; an Indian fig-tree 
 shaded me ; but, on the rock behind, an aloe lifted its blossom- 
 ing stem, some twenty feet high, into the sunshine. To 
 describe what a weight was lifted from my heart would seem 
 foolish to those who do not know on what little things the 
 whole tone of our spirits sometimes depends. 
 
 But if an even balance was restored yesterday, the opposite 
 scale kicked the beam this morning. Not a speck of vapor 
 blurred the spotless crystal of the sky, as I walked along the 
 hanging paths of the Alameda. The sea was dazzling ultrar 
 marine, with a purple lustre ; every crag and notch of the 
 mountains across the bay, every shade of brown or gray, or 
 the green of grassy patches, was drawn and tinted with a 
 pencil so exquisitely delicate as almost to destroy the perspect- 
 ive. The white houses of Algeciras, five miles off, appeared 
 close at hand : a little toy-town, backed by miniature hills. 
 Apes' Hill, the ancient Abyla, in Africa, advanced to meet 
 Calpe, its opposing pillar, and Atlas swept away to the east- 
 
THE COKVEXITY OF THE EARTH. 389 
 
 ward, its blue becoming paler and paler, till the powers of 
 vision finally failed. From tlie top of the southern point of 
 the Rock, I saw the mountain-shore of Spain, as far as Malaga, 
 and the snowy top of one of the Sierra Nevada. Looking 
 eastward to the horizon line of the Mediterranean, my sight 
 extended so far, ia-the wonderful clearness of the air, that the 
 convexity "of the- earth's surface was plainly to be seen. The 
 sea, instead of being a plane, was slightly convex, and the sky, 
 instead of resting upon it at the horizon, curved down beyond 
 it, as the upper side of a horn curves over the lower, when one 
 looks into the month. There is none of the many aspects of 
 Nature more grand than this, which is so rarely seen, that I 
 believe the only person who has ever described it is Humboldt, 
 who saw it, looking from the Silla de Caraccas over the Carib- 
 bean Sea. It gives you the impression of standing on the edge 
 of the earth, and looking off into space. From the mast-head, 
 the ocean appears either flat or slightly concave, and aeronauts 
 declare that this apparent concavity becomes more marked, the 
 higher they ascend. It is only at those rare periods when the 
 air is so miraculously clear as to produce the effect of no air — 
 rendering impossible the slightest optical illusion — that our 
 eyes can see things as they really are. So pure was the atmo- 
 sphere to-day, that, at meridian, .the moon, although a thin 
 sickle, three days distant from- the sun, shone perfectly white 
 and clear. 
 
 As I loitered in the Alameda, between thick hedges of ever- 
 blooming geraniums, clumps of heliotrope three feet high, and 
 luxuriant masses of ivy, around whose warm flowers the bees 
 clustered and hummed, I could only think of the voyage as a 
 hideous dream. The fog and gloom had been in my own eyes 
 
390 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 and in my own brain, and now the blessed sun, shining full in 
 my face, awoke me. I am a worshipper of the Sun. I took 
 off my hat to him, as I stood there, in a wilderness of white, 
 crimson, and purple flowers, and let him blaze away in my face 
 for a quarter of an hour. And as I walked home with my 
 back to him, I often turned my face from side to side that I 
 might feel his touch on my cheek. How a man can Uve, who 
 is sentence(^ to a year's imprisonment, is more than I can 
 understand. 
 
 But all this (you will say) gives you no picture of Gibral- 
 tar. The Rock is so familiar to all the world, in prints and 
 descriptions, that I find nothing new to say of it, except that 
 it is by no means so barren a rock as the island of Malta, 
 being clothed, in many places, with beautiful groves and the 
 greenest turf ; besides, I have not yet seen the rock-galleries, 
 having taken passage for Cadiz this afternoon. When I 
 return — as I hope to do in twenty days, after visiting Seville 
 and Granada — I shall procure permission to view all the forti- 
 fications, and likewise to ascend to the summit. 
 
VOTAGE TO CADIZ. 3M 
 
 CHAPTER , XXXIII 
 
 CADIZ AND SEVILLE, 
 
 Vojage to Cadiz— Landing— The City— Ita Streets— The Women of Cadiz— Embarka- 
 tion for Seville — Scenery of the Ouadalquiyir — Custom House Examination — The 
 Guide— The Streets of Seville— The Giralda— The Cathedral of Seville— The Alcazar- 
 Moorish Architecture — Pilate's House — ^Rlorning View from the Giralda — Old Wine — 
 Murillos — My Last Evening in Seville. 
 
 *' The walls of Cadiz front the shore. 
 
 And shimmer o'er the sea.'* R. H. Stoddakd. 
 
 " Beautiful Seville ! 
 Of which I've dreamed, until I saw its towers 
 In every cloud that hid the setting sun." George H. Boeeb. 
 
 Seville, Nmmiber 10, 1852. 
 
 I LEFT Gibraltar on the evening of the 6th, in the steamer 
 Iberia. The passage to Cadiz was made in nine hours, and we 
 came to anchor in the harbor before day-break. It was a cheer- 
 ful picture that the rising sun presented to us. The long white 
 front of the city, facing the East, glowed with a bright rosy 
 lastre, on a ground of the clearest blue. The tongue of land 
 on which Cadiz stands is low, but the houses are lifted by the 
 heavy sea-wall which encompasses them. The main-land cou- 
 sists of a range of low but graceful hills, while in the south- 
 east the mountains of Ronda rise at some distance. I went 
 immediately on shore, where my carpet-bag was seized upon 
 
392 THE LANDS OF THE SiHACEN. 
 
 by a boy, with the rich brown complexion of one of 
 Murillo's beggars, who trudged off with it to the gate. 
 After some little detention there, I was conducted to a long, 
 deserted, barn-like buUding, where I waited half an hour before 
 the proper ofBcer came. When the latter had taken his private 
 toll of my contraband cigars, the brown imp conducted me to 
 Blanco's English Hotel, a neat and comfortable house on the 
 Alameda. 
 
 Cadiz is soon seen. Notwithstanding its venerable age of 
 three thousand years — having been founded by Hercules, who 
 figures on its coat-of-arms — it is purely a commercial city, and 
 has neither antiquities, nor historic associations that interest 
 any but Englishmen. It is compactly built, and covers a 
 smaller space than accords with my ideas of its former splen- 
 dor. I first walked around the sea-ramparts, enjoying the 
 glorious look-off over the blue waters. The city is almost in- 
 sulated, the triple line of fortifications on the land side being 
 of but trifling length. A rocky ledge stretches out into the 
 sea from the northern point, and at its extremity rises the mas- 
 sive light-house tower, 170 feet high. The walls toward the sea 
 were covered with companies of idle anglers, fishing with cane 
 rods of enormous length. On the open, waste spaces between 
 the bastions, boys had spread their limed cords to catch singing 
 birds, with chirping decoys placed here and there in wicker 
 cages. Numbers of boatmen and peasants, in their brown 
 jackets, studded with tags and bugles, and those round black 
 caps which resemble smashed bandboxes, loitered about the 
 walls or lounged on the grass in the sun. 
 
 Except along the Alameda, which fronts the bay, the exte- 
 rior of the city has an aspect of neglect and desertion The 
 
CADIZ. 393 
 
 interior, howeYer, atones for this in the gay and lively air of its 
 streets, which, though narrow, are regular and charmingly 
 clean. The small plazas are neatness itself, an^ one is too con- 
 tent with this to ask for striking architectural effects. The 
 houses are tall and stately, of the most dazzling whiteness, and 
 though you could point out no one as a pattern of style, the gene- 
 ral effect is chaste and ^harmonious. In fact, there are two or 
 three streets which you would almost pronounce faultless. The 
 numbers of hanging balconies and of court-yards paved with mar- 
 ble and surrounded with elegant corridors, show the influence of 
 Moorish taste. There is not a mean-looking house to be seen, 
 and I have no doubt that Cadiz is the best built city of its size 
 in the world. It lies, white as new-fallen snow, like a cluster 
 of ivory palaces, between sea and sky. Blue and sUv6r are its 
 colors, and, as everybody knows, there can be no more charm- 
 ing contrast. 
 
 I visited both the old and new cathedrals, neither of which 
 is particularly interesting. The latter is unfinished, and might 
 have been a fine edifice had the labor and money expended on 
 its construction been directed by taste. The interior, rich as 
 it is in marbles and sculpture, has a heavy, confused effect. • 
 The pillars dividing the nave from the side-aisles are enormous 
 composite masses, each one consisting of six Corinthian columns, 
 stuck around and against a central shaft. More satisfactory 
 to me was the Opera-House, which I visited in the evening, 
 and where the dazzling array of dark-eyed Gaditanas put a 
 stop to architectural criticism. The women of Cadiz are noted 
 for their beauty and their graceful gait. Some of them are 
 very beautiful, it is true ; but beauty is not the rule among 
 them. Their gait, however, is the most graceful possible, 
 
 11* 
 
894 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 because it is perfectly free and natural. The commonest serv- 
 ing-maid who walks the streets of Cadiz would put to shame a 
 whole score of our mincing and wriggling belles. 
 
 Honest old Blanco prepared me a cup of chocolate by sun- 
 rise next morning, and accompanied me down to the quay, to 
 embark for Seville. A furious wind was blowing from the 
 south-east, and the large green waves raced and chased one 
 another incessantly over the surface of the bay. I took a 
 heavy craft, which the boatmen pushed along under cover of 
 the pier, until they reached thei end, when the sail was dropped 
 in the face of the wind, and away we shot into the watery 
 tumult. The boat rocked and bounced over the agitated sur- 
 face, running with one gunwale on the waves, and sheets of 
 briny spray broke over me. I felt considerably relieved when 
 I reached the deck of the steamer, but it was then diversion 
 enough to watch those who followed. The crowd of boats 
 pitching tumultuously around the steamer, jostling against each 
 other, their hulls gleaming with wet, as they rose on the beryl- 
 colored waves, striped with long, curded lines of wind-blown 
 foam, would have made a fine subject for the pencil of Achen- 
 bach. 
 
 At last we pushed off, with a crowd of,passengers fore and 
 aft, and a pyramid of luggage piled around the smoke-pipe. 
 There was a party of four Englishmen on board, and, on mak- 
 ing their acquaintance, I found one of them to be a friend to 
 some of my friends — Sir John Potter, the progressive ex- 
 Mayor of Manchester. The wind being astern, we ran rapidly 
 along the coast, and in two hours entered the mouth of the 
 Guadalquivir. [This name comes from the Arabic wadi 
 ei-fefteer— literally, the Great Valley.] The shores are a dead 
 
SCENERY OF THE GUADALQUIVIR. 395 
 
 flat. The right bank is a dreary forest of stunted pines, abound- 
 ing with deer and other game ; on the left is the'dilapidated 
 town of San Lucar, vfhence Magellan set sail on his first voy- 
 age around the world. A mile further is Bonanza, the port 
 of Xeres, where we touched and took on board a fresh lot of 
 passengers. Thenceforth, for four hours, the scenery of thj 
 Guadalquivir had a most distressing sameness. The banks 
 were as flat as a board, with here and there a straggling 
 growth of marshy thickets. Now and then we passed a herds- 
 man's hut, but there were no human beings to be seen, except 
 the peasants who tended the large flocks of sheep and cattle. 
 A sort of breakfast was served in the cabin, but so great was 
 the number of guests that I had much difficulty in getting 
 anything to eat. The waiters were models of calmness and 
 deliberation. 
 
 As we approached Seville, some low hills appeared on the 
 left, near the river. Dazzling white villages were planted at 
 their foot, and all the slopes were covered with olive orchards, 
 while the banks of the stream were bordered with silvery birch 
 trees. This gave the landscape, in spite of the African 
 warmth and brightness of the day, a gray and almost wintry 
 aspect. Soon the graceful Giralda, or famous Tower of 
 Seville, arose in the distance ; but, from the windings of the 
 river, we were half an hour in reaching the landing-place. 
 One sees nothing of the far-famed beauty of Seville, on 
 ' approaching it. The boat stops below the Alameda, where 
 the passengers are received by Custom-House officers, who, in 
 my case, did not verify the stories told of them in Cadiz. I 
 gave my carpet-bag to a boy, who conducted me along the hot 
 and dusty banks to the bridge over the Guadalquivir, where 
 
396 THE LANDS OF THE SAKAUJLN. 
 
 he turned into the city. On passing the gate, two loafer-like 
 guards stopped my baggage,, notwithstanding it had already 
 been examined. " What 1" said I, "do you examine twice on 
 entering Seville?" " Yes," .answered one; "twice, and even 
 three times ;" but added in a lower tone, " it depends entirely 
 on yourself." With that he slipped behind me, and let one 
 hand fall beside my pocket. The transfer of a small coin was 
 dexterously made, and I passed on without further stoppage 
 to the Fonda de Madrid. 
 
 Sir John Potter engaged Antonio Bailli, the noted guide of 
 Seville, who professes to hare been the cicerone of all distin- 
 guished travellers, from Lord Byron and Washington Irving 
 down to Owen Jones, and I readily accepted his invitation to 
 join the party. Bailli is recommended by Ford as "fat and 
 good-humored." Fat he certainly is, and very good-humored 
 when speaking of himself, but he has been rather spoiled 
 by popularity, and is much too profuse in his critical remarks 
 on art and architecture. Nevertheless, as my stay in Seville 
 is limited, I have derived no slight advantage from his ser- 
 vices. 
 
 On the first morning I took an early stroll through the 
 streets. The houses are glaringly white, like those of Cadiz, 
 but are smaller and have not the same stately exteriors. The 
 windows are protected by iron gratings, of florid patterns, 
 and, as many of these are painted green, the general effect is 
 pleasing. Almost every door opens upon a jpatio, or court- 
 yard, paved with black and white marble and adorned with 
 flowers and fountains. Many of these remain from the time of 
 the Moors, and are still surrounded by the delicate arches and 
 brilliant tUe-work of that period. The populace in the streets 
 
THE GIEALDA. 391 
 
 are entirely Spanish-r^the jaunty majo in his queer black cap, 
 sash, and embroidered jacket, and the nut-brown, dark-eyed 
 damsel, swimming along in her mantilla, and armed with the 
 irresistible fan. 
 
 We went first to the Cathedral, built on the site of the 
 great mosque of Abou Youssuf Takoub. The tall Giralda 
 beckoned to us over the tops of the intervening buildings, and 
 finally a turn in the street brought us to the ancient Moorish 
 gateway on the northern side. . This is an admirable specimen of 
 the horse-shoe arch, and is covered with elaborate tracery. It 
 originally opened into the court, or haram, of the mosque, 
 which still remains, and is shaded by a grove of orange trees. 
 The Giralda, to my eye, is a more perfect tower than the Cam- 
 panile of Morence, or that of S,an Marco, at Venice, which is 
 evidently an idea borrowed from it. The Moorish structure, 
 with a base of fifty feet square, rises to the height of two hun- 
 dred and fifty feet. It is of a light pink color, and the sides, 
 which are broken here and there by exquisitely proportioned 
 double Saracenic arches, are covered from top to bottom with 
 arabesque tracery, cut in strong relief. Upon this tower, a 
 Spanish architect has placed a tapering spire, one hundred feet 
 high, which fortunately harmonizes with the general design, 
 and gives the crowning grace to the work. 
 
 The Cathedral of Seville may rank as one of the grandest , 
 Gothic piles in Europe. The nave lacks but five feet of being 
 as high as that of St. Peter's, while the length and breadth of 
 the edifice are on a commensurate scale. The ninety-three 
 windows of stained glass fill the interior with a soft and richly- 
 tinted light, mellower and more gentle than the sombre twi- 
 light of" the Gothic Cathedrals of Europe. The wealth 
 
898 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 layislied on tlie smaller chapels and shrines is prodigious, and 
 the high altar, inclosed within a gilded railing fifty feet high, is 
 probably the most enormous mass of wood-carving in existence. 
 The Cathedral, in fact, is encumbered with its riches. W!iile 
 they bewilder yon as monuments of human labor and patience, 
 . they detract from the grand simplicity of the building. The 
 great Bave, on each side of the transept, is quite blocked up, so 
 that the choir and magnificent royal chapel behind it have 
 almost the effect of detiached edifices. 
 
 We returned again this morning, remaining two hours, and 
 succeeded in making a thorough surrey, including a number of 
 trashy pictures and barbarously rich shrines. Murillo's 
 " Guardian Angel" and the " Yision of St. Antonio " are the 
 only gems. The treasury contains a number of sacred vessels 
 of silver, gold and jewels — among other things, the keys of 
 Moorish Seville, a cross made of the first gold brought from 
 the New-World by Columbus, and another from that robbed 
 in Mexico by Cortez. The Cathedral won my admiration 
 more and more. The placing of the numerous windows, and 
 their rich coloring, produce the most glorious effects of light in 
 the lofty aisles, and one is constantly finding new vistas, new 
 combinations of pillar, arch and shrine. The building is in 
 itself a treasury of the grandest Gothic pictures. 
 
 From the Cathedral we went to the Alcazar {El-Kasr), or 
 Palace of the Moorish Kings. We entered by a long passage, 
 with round arches on either side, resting on twin pillars, placed 
 at right angles to the line of the arch, as one sees both in 
 Saracenic and Byzantine structures. Finally, old Bailli 
 brought us into a dull, deserted court-yard, where we were 
 surprised by the sight of an entire Moorish fa9ade, with its 
 
THE ALCAZAR. 399 
 
 pointed arches, its projecting roof, its rich sculptured ornamenta 
 and its illuminations of red, blue, green and gold. It has been 
 lately restored, and now rivals in freshness and brillianqy any 
 of the rich houses of Damascus. A doorway, entirely too low 
 and mean for the splendor of the walls above it, admitted us into 
 the first court. On each side of the passage are the rooms of 
 the guard and the Moorish nobles. Within, all is pure 
 Saracenic, and absolutely perfect in its grace and richness. It 
 is the realization of an Oriental dream ; it is the poetry and 
 luxury of the East in tangible forms. Where so much depends 
 on the proportion and harmony of the different parts — on those 
 correspondences, the union of which creates that nameless soul 
 of the work, which cannot be expressed in words — it is useless 
 to describe details. From first to last — the chambers of state ; 
 the fringed arches ; the open tracery, light and frail as the 
 frost-stars crystallized on a window-pane ; the courts, fit to be 
 vestibules to Paradise ; the audience-hall, with its wondrous 
 sculptures, its columns and pavement of marble, and its gilded 
 dome ; the garden, gorgeous with its palm, banana, and 
 orange-trees — all were in perfect keeping, all jewels of equal 
 lustre, forming a diadem which still lends a royal dignity to the 
 phantom of Moorish power. 
 
 We then passed into the gardens laid out by the Spanish 
 monarchs — trim, mathematical designs, in box and myrtle, 
 with concealed fountains springing up everywhere unawares 
 in the midst of the paven walks ; yet still made beautiful 
 by the roses and jessamines that hung in rank clusters over the 
 marble balustrades, and by the clumps of tall orange trees, 
 bending to earth under the weight of their fruitage. We 
 afterward visited Pilate's House, as it is called — a fine Span* 
 
400 THE LANDS OP THE SAEACEN. 
 
 ish-Moresco palace, now belonging to ttie Duke of Medina 
 Coeli. It is very rict and elegant, but stands. in the same 
 relation to the Alcazar as a good copy does to the original 
 , picture. The grand staircase, nevertheless, is a marvel of tile 
 work, unlike anything else in Seville, and exhibits a genius in 
 the invention of elaborate ornamental patterns, which is truly 
 wonderful. A number of workmen were busy in restoring the 
 palace, to fit if for the residence of the young Duke. The 
 Moorish sculptures are reproduced in plaster, which, at least, 
 has a better effect than the fatal whitewash under which the 
 original tints of the Alcazar are hidden. In the courts stand a 
 number of Roman busts — Spanish antiquities, and therefore 
 not of great merit — singularly out of place in niches sur- 
 rounded by Arabic devices and sentences from the Koran. 
 
 This morning, I climbed the Giralda. The sun had just 
 risen, and the day was fresh and crystal-clear. A little door 
 in the Cathedral, near the foot of the tower, stood open, and I 
 entered. A rather slovenly Sevillana had just completed her 
 toilet, but two children were still in undress. However, she 
 opened a door in the tower, and I went up without hindrance. 
 The ascent is by easy ramps, and I walked four hundred yards, 
 or nearly a quarter of a mile, before reaching the top of the 
 Moorish part. The panoramic view was snperb. To the east 
 and west, the Great Valley made a level line on a far-distant 
 horizon." There were ranges of hills in the north and south, 
 and those rising near the city, clothed in a gray mantle of olive- 
 trees, were picturesquely crowned with villages. The Guadal- 
 quivir, winding in the most sinuous mazes, had no longer a 
 turbid hue ; he reflected the blue morning sky, and gleamed 
 brightly between his borders of birch and willow. Seville 
 
OLD WINES — MUEILLOS. 401 
 
 sparkled white and fair under my feet, her painted towers and 
 tiled domes rising thickly out of the mass of buildings. The 
 level sun threw shadows into the numberless courts, permitting 
 the mixture of Spanish and Moorish architecture to be plainly, 
 discerned, even at that height. A thin golden vapor softened 
 the features of the landscape, towards the sun, while, on the 
 opposite side, every object stood out in the sharpest and 
 clearest outKnes. 
 
 On our way to the Mus6o, Bailli took us to the honse of a 
 friend of his, in order that we might taste real ManzaniUa 
 wine. This is a pale, straw-colored vintage, produced in the 
 valley of the Guadalquivir. It is flavored with camomile 
 blossoms, and is said to be a fine tonic for weak stomachs. 
 The master then produced a dark-red wine, which he declared 
 to be thirty years old. It was almost a syrup in consistence, 
 and tasted more of sarsaparUla than, grapes. None of us 
 relished it, except Bailli, who was so inspired by the draught, 
 that he sang us two Moorish songs and an Andalusian catch, 
 full of fun and drollery. 
 
 . The Mus6o contains a great amount of bad pictures, but it 
 also contains twenty-three of Murillo's works, many of them 
 of his best period. To those who have only seen his tender, 
 spiritual "Conceptions" and "Assumptions," his "Vision of 
 St. Francis" in this gallery reveals a mastery of the higher 
 walks of his art, which they would not have anticipated. But 
 it is in his " Cherubs" and his " Infant Christs" that he excels. 
 No one ever painted infantile grace and beauty with so true a 
 pencil. There is but one Velasquez in the collection, and the 
 only thing that interested me, in two haUs filled with rubbish, 
 was a "Conception" by Murillo's mulatto pupil, said by some 
 
402 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 to have been his slave. Although an imitation of the great 
 master, it is a picture of much sweetness and beauty. There 
 is no other work of the artist in existence, and this, as the 
 only production of the kind by a painter of mixed African 
 blood, ought to belong to the Republic of Liberia. 
 
 Among the other guests at the Fonda de Madrid is Mr. 
 Thomas Hobhouse, brother of Byron's friend. We had a 
 pleasant party in the Court this evening, listening to blind 
 P6p6, who sang to his guitar a medley of merry Andalnsian 
 refrains. Singing made the old man courageous, and, at the 
 close, he gave us the radical song of Spain, which is now 
 strictly prohibited. The air is charming, but too gay ; one 
 would sooner dance than fight to its measures. It does not 
 bring the hand to the sword, like the glorious Marseillaise. 
 
 Adios, beautiful Seville 1 
 
SPANISH DILIGENCE LINES. 403 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 t 
 
 JOUKNEY IN A SPAJ'ISH DILI6ENCE- 
 
 Bpanish Diligence tines— Leaving Seville— An Unluclty Start— Alcali of the Baliera— 
 Dinner at Carmona — A Dehesa — The Mayoral and his Team — Ecija — Night Journey 
 — Cordova — The Cathedral-Mosque — Moorisll Architecture — The Sierra Morena — A 
 Bainy Journey— A Chapter of Accidents— Baylen— The Fascination of Spain— Jaen 
 —The Vega of Granada. 
 
 Gkajjada, Smerriber 14, 1852. 
 
 It is an euTiable sensation to feel for the first time that you 
 are in Granada. No amount of travelling can weaken the 
 romantic interest which clings about this Storied place, or take 
 away anght from the freshness of that emotion with which you 
 first behold it. I sit almost at the foot of the Alhambra, 
 whose walls I can see from my window, quite satisfied for to- 
 day with being here. It has been raining since I arrived, the 
 thunder is crashing overhead, and the mountains are covered 
 with clouds, so I am kept in-doors, with the luxury of knowing 
 that all the wonders of the place are within my reach. And 
 now let me beguUe the dull weather by giving you a sketch of 
 my journey from Seville hither. 
 
 There are three lines of stages from Seville to Madrid, and 
 their competition has reduced the fare to $12, which, for a ride 
 of 350 miles, is remarkably cheap. The trip is usually made 
 in three days and a half. A branch line from Baylen-^nearly 
 
404 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 half-way — strikes southward to Granada, and as there is rni 
 competition on this part of the road, I was charged $15 for a 
 through seat in the coupi. On account of the lateness of the 
 season, and the limited time at my command, this was prefer- 
 able to taking horses and riding across the country from 
 Seville to Cordova. Accordingly, at an early hour on 
 Thursday morning last, furnished with a travelling ticket- 
 inscribed : "Don Yaltar de Talor (myself 1), I took leave of 
 my English friends at the Fonda de Madrid, got into an 
 immense, lumbering yellow vehicle, drawn by ten mules, and 
 started, trusting to my good luck and bad Spanish to get safely 
 through. The commencement, however, was unpropitious, and 
 very often a stumble at starting makes the whole journey limp. 
 The near mule in the foremost span was a horse, ridden by our 
 postillion, and nothing could prevent that horse from darting 
 into all sorts.of streets and alleys where we had no desire to 
 go. As all mules have implicit faith in horses, of course the 
 rest of the animals followed. We were half an hour in gettmg 
 ont of Seville, and when at last we reached the open road and 
 dashed off at full gallop, one of the mules in the traces fell and 
 was dragged in the dust some twenty or thirty yards before 
 we could stop. My companions in the coup6 were a young 
 Spanish officer and his pretty Andalusian bride, who was mak- 
 ing her first journey from home, and after these mishaps was 
 in a state of constant fear -and anxiety. 
 
 The first stage across the valley of the Guadalquivir took 
 us to the town of Alcala, which lies in the lap of the hilla 
 above the heautiful little river Guadaira. It is a picturesque 
 spot ; the naked cliffs overhanging the stream have the rich, 
 red hue of cinnabar, and the trees and shrubbery in the 
 
DINNER AT CARMONA. 405 
 
 meadowS; and on the hill-sides are ready grouped to the 
 artist's hand. The town is called Alcala de los Panadores 
 (of the Bakers) from its hundreds of flour mills and bake- 
 ovens, which supply Seville with those white, fine, delicious 
 twists, of •which Spain may be jnstly proud. They should 
 have been sent to the Exhibition last year, with the Toledo 
 blades and the wooden mosaics. We left the place and its 
 mealy-headed population, and turned eastward into wide, roll- 
 ing tracts, scattered here and there with gnarled olive trees. 
 The soil was loose and sandy, and hedges of aloes lined the 
 road. The country is thinly populated, and very- little of it 
 under cultivation. 
 
 ■ About noon we reached Carmona, which was founded by 
 the Romans, as, indeed, were nearly all the towns of Southern 
 Spain. It occupies the crest and northern slope of a high 
 hill, whereon the ancient Moorish castle still stands. The 
 Alcazar, or palace, and the Moorish walls also remain, 
 though in a very ruinous condition. Here we stopped to 
 dinner, for the " Nueva Peninsular,'' in which I was embarked, 
 has its hotels all along the route, like that of Zurutuza, in 
 Mexico. We were conducted into a small room adjoining the 
 stables, and adorned with colored prints illustrating the 
 history of Don John of Austria. The table-cloths, plates and 
 other appendages were of very ordinary quality, but indispu- 
 tably clean ; we seated ourselves, and presently the dinner 
 appeared. First, a vermicelli pilaff, which I found palatable, 
 then the national oUa, a dish of enormous yellow peas, 
 sprinkled with bits of bacon and flavored with oil ; then three 
 successive courses of chicken, boiled, stewed and roasted, but 
 in every case done to rags, and without a particle of the origic 
 
406 THE LANDS 4P 5HE SAKACEN. 
 
 nal flavor. This was the ujual style of our meals on the road, 
 whether breakfast, dinner or supper, except that kid was 
 sometimes substituted for fowl, and that the oil employed, 
 being more or less* rancid, gave different flavors to the 
 dishes. A course of melons, grapes or pomegranates wound 
 np the repast, the price o' which varied from ten to twelve 
 reals — a real being about a half-dime. In Seville, at the 
 Fonda de Madrid, the cooking is really excellent; but further 
 in the interior, judging from what I have heard, it is even 
 worse than I have described. 
 
 Continuing our journey, we passed around the southern 
 brow of the hill, under the Moorish battlements. Here a 
 superb view opened to the south and east over the wide Vega 
 of Carmona, as far as the mountain chain which separates it 
 from the plain of Granada. The city has for a coat of arms a 
 silver star in an azure field, with the pompous motto : " As 
 Lucifer shines in the morning, so shines Carmona in Anda- 
 lusia." If it shines at all, it is because it is a city set upon a 
 hill ; for that is the only splendor I could find about the place. 
 The Vega of Carmona is partially cultivated, and now wears a 
 sombre brown hue, from its tracts of ploughed land. 
 
 Cultivation soon ceased, however, and we entered on a 
 deMsa, a boundless plain of waste land, covered with thickets 
 of palmettos. . Flocks of gDats and sheep, guarded by shep- 
 herds in brown cloaks, wandered here and there, and except 
 their huts and an isolated house, with its group of palm-trees, 
 there was no sign of habitii,tion. The road was a deep, red 
 sand, and our mules toiled along slowly and painfully, urged 
 by the incessant cries of the mayoral, or conductor, and his 
 nwzo. As the mayoral's whip could only reach the second 
 
THE MAYORAL AND HI3 TEAM. 407 
 
 span, the business of the latter was to jump down every ten 
 minutes, run ahead and belabor the flanks of the foremost 
 mules, uttering at the same time a series of sharp howls, which 
 seemed to strike the poor beasts with quite as much severity 
 as his whip. I defy even a Spanish ear to distinguish the 
 import of these cries, and the great wonder was how they 
 could aU come out of one small throat. "When it came to a 
 hard puU, they cracked and exploded like volleys of musketry, 
 and flew like hail-stones about the ears of the machos (he- 
 mules). The postillion, having only the care of the foremost 
 span, is a silent man, but he has contracted a habit of sleeping 
 in the saddle, which I mention for the benefit of timid 
 travellers, as it adds to the interest of a journey by night. 
 
 The clouds which had been gathering all day, now settled 
 down upon the plain, and night came on with a dull rain. At 
 eight o'clock we reached the City of Ecija, where we had two 
 hours' halt and supper. It was so dark and rainy that I 
 saw nothing, not even the classic Xenil, the river of Granada, 
 which flows through the city on its way to the Guadalquivir. 
 The night wore slowly away, and whUe the mozo drowsed on 
 his post, I caught snatches of sleep between his cries. As the 
 landscape began to grow distinct in the gray, cloudy dawn, we 
 saw before us Cordova, with the dark range of the Sierra Mo- 
 rena rising behind it. This city, once the glory of Moorish 
 Spain, the capital of the great Abd-er-Kahman, containing, 
 when in its prime, a million of inhabitants, is now a melancholy 
 wreck, It has not a shadow of the art, science, and taste 
 which then distinguished it, and the only interest it now pos- 
 sesses is from these associations, and the despoiled remnast of 
 its renowned Mosque. 
 
408 THlfi LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 We crossed the Gaadalquivir on a fine bridge tinilt on 
 Roman foundations, and droTe slowly down the one long, 
 rough, crooked street. The diligence stops for an hour, to 
 allow passengers to breakfast, but my first thought was for the 
 Cathedral-mosque, la Mezguita, as it is still called. " It is 
 closed," said the ragged crowd that congregated about us ; 
 "you cannot get in until eight o'clock." But I remembered 
 that a silyer key will open anything in Spain, and taking a 
 mozo as a guide we hurried off as fast as the rough pavements 
 would permit. We had to retrace the whole length of the city, 
 but on reaching the Cathedral, found it open. The exterior is 
 low, and quite plain, though of great extent. A Moorish gate- 
 way admitted me into the original court-yard, or haram, of the 
 mosque, which is planted with orange trees and contains the 
 fountain, for the ablutions of Moslem worshippers, in the centre. 
 The area of the Mosque proper, exclusive of the court-yard, is 
 about 400 by 350 feet. It was built on the plan of the great 
 Mosque of Damascus, about the end of the eighth century. 
 The materials — ^including twelve hundred columns of marble, 
 jasper and porphyry, from the ruins of Carthage, and the 
 temples of Asia Minor — belonged to a Christian basilica, of 
 the Gothic domination, which was built upon the foundations 
 of a Boman temple of Janus ; so that the three great creeds 
 of the world have here at different times had their seat. The 
 Moors considered this mosque as second in holiness to the 
 Kaaba of Mecca, and made pilgrimages to it from all parts of 
 Moslem Spain and Barbary. Even now, although shorn of 
 much of its glory, it surpasses any Oriental mosque into which 
 I have penetrated, except St. Sophia, which is a Christian 
 edifice 
 
THE MOSQUE OP CORDOVA. 409 
 
 All the nineteen original entrances — beautiful horse-shoe 
 arches— rare closed, except the central one. I entered by a low 
 door, in one corner of the corridor. A wilderness of columns 
 connected by double arches (one springing above the other, 
 with an opening between), spread their dusky aisles before me 
 in the morning twilight. The eight hundred and fifty shafts 
 of this marble forest formed labyrinths and mazes, which at 
 that early hour appeared boundless, for their long vistas disap- 
 peared in the shadows. Lamps were burning before distant 
 shrines, and a few worshippers were kneeling silently here and 
 there. The sound of my own footsteps, as I wandered through 
 the ranks of pillars, was all that I heard. In the centre of 
 the wood (for such it seemed) rises the choir, a gaudy and 
 tasteless excrescence added by the Christians. Even Charles 
 v., who laid a merciless hand on the Alhambra, reproved the 
 Bishop of Cordova for this barbarous and unnecessary dis- 
 figurement. 
 
 The sacristan lighted lamps in order to show me the Moorish 
 chapels. Nothing but the precious materials of which these 
 exquisite structures are composed could have saved them from 
 the holy hands of the Inquisition, which intentionally destroyed 
 all the Roman antiquities of Cordova. Here the fringed 
 arches, the lace-like filigrees, the wreathed inscriptions, and the 
 domes of pendent stalactites which enchant you in the Alcazar 
 of Seville, are repeated, not in stucco, but in purest marble, 
 while the entrance to the " holy of holies" is probably the most 
 glorious piece of mosaic in the world. The pavement of the 
 interior is deeply worn by the knees of the Moslem pilgrims, 
 who compassed it seven times, kneehng, as they now do in the 
 Kaaba, at Mecca. The sides are embroidered with sentences 
 
 18 
 
410 'HE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 from the Koran, ia Cufic characters, and the roof is in tht 
 form of a fluted shell, of a single piece of pure white marble, 
 fifteen feet in diameter. The roof of the vestibule is a won- 
 derful piece of workmanship, formed of pointed arches, wreathed 
 and twined through each other, like basket-work. No people 
 ever wrought poetry into stone so perfectly as the Saracens 
 In looking on these precious relics of an elegant and refined 
 race, I cannot help feeling a strong regret that their kingdon 
 ever passed into other hands. 
 
 Leaving Cordova, our road followed the Guadalquivir, along 
 the foot of the Sierra Morena, which rose dark and stern, a 
 barrier to the central table-lands of La Mancha. At Alcolea, 
 we crossed the river on a noble bridge of black marble, out of 
 all keeping with the miserable road. It rained incessantly, 
 and the scenery through which we passed had a wild and 
 irloomy character. The only tree to be seen was the olive, 
 Yiiich covered the hills far and near, the profusion of its fruit 
 wiiowing the natural richness of the soil. This part of the 
 ludd is sometimes infested with robbers, and once, when I saw 
 two individuals waiting for us in a lonely defile, with gun-bar- 
 rels thrust out from under their black cloaks, I anticipated a 
 recurrence of a former unpleasant experience. But they proved 
 to be members of the guardia civil, and therefore our pro- 
 tectors. 
 
 The ruts and quagmires, made by the rain, retarded our pro- 
 fciess, and it was dark when we reached Andujar, fourteen 
 leagues from Cordova. To Baylen, where I was to quit the 
 diligence, and take another coming down from Madrid to 
 Granada, was four leagues further. We journeyed on in the 
 dark, in a pouring rain, up and down hill for some hours, 
 
« NIGHT ADVENT0RE. 411 
 
 when all at onco the cries of the mozo ceased, and the diligence 
 came to a dead atop. There was some talk between our con- 
 ductors, and then the mayoral opened the door and invited us 
 to get out. The postillion had fallen asleep, and the mules bad 
 taken us into a wrong road. An attempt was made to turn 
 the diligence, but failed, leaving it standing plump against a 
 high bank of mud. We stood, meanwhile, shivering in the 
 cold and wet, and the fair Andalusian shed abundance of tears. 
 Fortunately, Baylen was close at hand, and, after some delay, 
 two men came with lanterns and escorJ;ed us to the posada, or 
 inn, where we arrived at midnight. The diligence from Madrid, 
 which was due six hours before, had not made its appearance, 
 and we passed the rest of the night in a cold room, fasting, 
 for the meal was only to be served when the other passengers 
 came. At day-break, finally, a single dish of oily meat was 
 vouchsafed to us, and, as it was now certain that some acci- 
 dent had happened, the passengers to Madrid requested the 
 Administrador to send them on in an extra conveyance. This 
 he refused, and they began to talk about getting up a pronun- 
 ciamento, when a messenger arrived with the news that the 
 diligence had broken down at midnight, about two leagues off. 
 Tools were thereupon dispatched, nine hours after the accident 
 happened, and we might hope to be released from our imprison- 
 ment in four or five more. 
 
 Baylen is a wretched place, celebrated for having the first 
 palm-tree which those see who come from Madrid, and for the 
 victory gained by Castanos over the French forces under 
 Dupont, which occasioned the flight of Joseph Buonaparte 
 from Madrid, and the temporary liberation of Spain from the 
 French yoke. Castanos, who received the title of Duke de 
 
412 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 Baylen, and is compared by the Spaniards to Wellington, died 
 about three months ago. The battle-field I passed in the 
 night ; the palm-tree I found, but it is now a mere stump, 
 the leaves having been stripped off to protect the houses of 
 the inhabitants from lightning. Our posada had one of them 
 hung at the window. At last, the diligence came, and at three 
 P.M., when I ought to have been in sight of Granada, I left the 
 forlorn walls of Baylen. My fellow-passengers were a young 
 sprig of the Spanish nobility and three chubby-faced nuns. 
 
 The rest of the journey that afternoon was through a wide, 
 hilly region, entirely bare of trees and habitations, and but 
 partially cultivated. There was something sublime in its very 
 nakedness and loneliness, and I felt attracted to it as I do 
 towards the Desert. In fact, although I have seen little fine 
 scenery since leaving Seville, have had the worst of weather, 
 and no very pleasant travelUng experiences, the country has 
 exercised a fascination over me, which I do not quite under- 
 stand. I find myself constantly on the point of making a vow 
 to return again. Much to my regret, night set in before we 
 reached Jaen, the capital of the Moorish kingdom of that 
 name. We halted for a short time in the large plaza of the 
 town, where the dash of fountains mingled with the sound of 
 the rain, and the black, jagged outline of a mountain over- 
 hanging the place was visible through the storm. 
 
 All night we journeyed on through the mountains, some- 
 times splashing through swollen streams, sometimes coming 
 almost to a halt in beds of deep mud. When this morning 
 dawned, we were ascending through wild, stony hills, over- 
 grown with shrubbery, and the driver said we were six leagues 
 from Granada. Still on, through a lonely country, with now 
 
TH& VEGA OF GBANiiSA. 413 
 
 and then a large venta, or country inn, by the road-side, and 
 about nine o'clock, as the sky became more clear, I saw in 
 front of us, high up under the. clouds, the snow-fields of the 
 Sierra Nevada. An hour afterwards we were riding between 
 gardens, vineyards, and olive orchards, with the magnificent 
 Vega of Granada stretching far away on the right, and the 
 Vermilion Towers of the Alhambra crowning the heights 
 before us. 
 
414 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA. 
 
 Mateo Ximenez, the Younger— The Cathedral of Granada— A Monkish Miracle— Catholle 
 Shrines— Military Cherubs— The Rojal Chapel— The Tombs of Ferdinand and Isa- 
 bella — Chapel of San Juan de Dios — The Albaycin — View of the Vega — The Generalife— 
 The Alhambrar— Torra de la Vela— The Walls and Towei-s— A Visit; to Old Mateo— 
 The Court of the Fish-pond — ^The Halls of the Alhambra — Character of the Architec- 
 ture — Hall of the Abencerrages— ^Hall of the Two Sisters — ^The Moorish Dynasty in 
 Spain. 
 
 " Who has not in Granada been. 
 Verily, be has nothing seen." 
 
 Andaliisicm Proverb. 
 
 QBiSiSi., Wednesday, Nov. 17, 1352. 
 
 Immedutelt on reaching Jjere, I was set upon by an old 
 gentleman who wanted to act as guide, but the mozo of 
 the hotel put into my hand a card inscribed "Don Mateo 
 Ximenez, Guide to the celebrated Washington Irving," and I 
 dismissed the other applicant. The next morning, as the mozo 
 brought me my chocolate, he said; "Senor, el cMco is waiting 
 for you." The "little one" turned out to be the son of old 
 Mateo, "honest Mateo," who still lives up in the Alhambra, 
 but is now rather too old to continue his business, except on 
 great occasions. I accepted the young Mateo, who spoke with 
 the greatest enthusiasm of Mr. Irving, avowing that the whole 
 family was devoted to him, in life and death. It was still 
 
THE CATHEDRAL OF GRANADA. 415 
 
 raining furiously, and the golden Darro, which roars in 
 front of the hotel, was a swollen brown flood. I don't 
 wonder that he sometimes threatens, as the old couplet says, 
 to burst up the Zacatin, and bear it down to his bride, the 
 Xenil. 
 
 Towards noon, the clouds broke away a little, and we sallied 
 out. Passing through the gate and square of Vivarrambla 
 (may not this name come from the Arabic hab er-ranil, the 
 "gate of the sand?"), we soon reached the Cathedral. This 
 massive structure, which makes a good feature in the distant 
 view of Granada, is not at all imposing, near at hand. The 
 interior is a mixture of Gothic and Roman, glaring with white- 
 wash, and broken, like that of Seville, by a wooden choir and 
 two grand organs, blocking up the nave. Some of the side 
 chapels, nevertheless, are splendid masses of carving and gild- 
 ing. In one of them, there are two full-length portraits of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, supposed to be by Alonzo Cano. The 
 Cathedral contains some other good pictures by the same 
 master, but all its former treasures were carried off by the 
 French. 
 
 We next went to the Picture Gallery, which is in the Fran- 
 ciscan Convent. There are two small Murillos, much damaged, 
 some tolerable Alonzo Canos, a few common-place pictures 
 by Juan de Sevilla, and a hundred or more by authors whose 
 names I did not inquire, for a more hideous collection of trash 
 never met my eye. One of them represents a miracle per- 
 formed by two saints, who cut off the diseased leg of a sick 
 white man, and replace it by the sound leg of a dead negro, 
 whose body is seen lying beside the bed. Judging from the 
 ghastly face of the patient, the operation is rather painful, 
 
416 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 though the story goes that the black leg grew fast, and the 
 man recovered. The picture at least illustrates the absence of 
 "prejudice of color" among the Saints. 
 
 We went into the adjoining Church of Santo Domingo, 
 which has several very rich shrines of marble and gold. A 
 sort of priestly sacristan opened the Church of the Madonna 
 del Rosario — a glittering mixture of marble, gold, and looking- 
 glasses, which has rather a rich effect. The beautiful yellow 
 and red veined marbles are from the Sierra Nevada. The 
 sacred Madonna — a big doll with staring eyes and pink cheeks 
 — has a dress of silver, shaped like an extinguisher, and 
 encrusted with rubies and other precious stones. The utter 
 absence of taste in most Catholic shrines is an extraordinary 
 thing. It seems remarkable that a Church which has produced 
 so many glorious artists should so constantly and grossly vio- 
 late the simplest rules of art. The only shrine which I have 
 seen, which was in keeping with the object adored, is that of 
 the Virgin, at Nazareth, where there is neither picture nor 
 image, but only vases of fragrant flowers, and perfumed oil in 
 golden lamps, burning before a tablet of spotless marble. 
 
 Among the decorations of the chapel, there are a host of 
 cherubs frescoed on the ceiling, and one of them is represented 
 in the act of firing off a blunderbuss. " Is it true that the 
 angels carry blunderbusses ?" I asked the priest. He shrugged 
 his shoulders with a sort of half-smile, and said nothing. In 
 the Cathedral, on the plinths of the columns in the outer 
 aisles, are several notices to the effect that " whoever speaks 
 to women, either in the nave or the aisles, thereby puts him- 
 self in danger of excommunication." I could not help laugh- 
 ing, as I read this monkish and yet most jwmonk-like statute, 
 
THE ROYAL CHAPEL. 
 
 411 
 
 "Oh," said Maveo, " all that was in the despotic times ; it is 
 not so now." 
 
 A deluge of rain put a stop to my sight-seeing until the next 
 morning, when I set ont with Mateo to visit the Royal Chapel. 
 A murder had been committed in the night, near the entrance 
 of the Zacatin, and the paving-stones were still red with the 
 blood of the victim. A.fiincion of some sort was going on in 
 the Chapel, and we went into the sacristy to wait. The priests 
 and choristers were there, changing their*robes ; they saluted 
 me good-hnmoredly, though there was an expression in their 
 faces that plainly said : " a heretic 1" When the service was 
 concluded, I went into the chapel and examined the high altar, 
 with its rude wood-carvings, representing the surrender of 
 Granada. The portraits of Perdinand and Isabella, Cardinal 
 Ximenez, Gonzalvo of Cordova, and King Boabdil, are very 
 curious. ■ Another tablet represents the baptism of the con- 
 quered Moors. , 
 
 In the centre of the chapel stand the monuments erected to 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, and their successors Philip I., and 
 Maria, by Charles V. They are tall catafalques of white 
 marble, superbly sculptured, with the full length efBgies of the 
 monarchs upon them. The figures are admirable; that of 
 Isabella, especially, though the features are settled in the 
 repose of death, expresses all the grand and noble traits which 
 belonged to her character. The sacristan removed the mat- 
 ting from a part of the floor, disclosing an iron grating under- 
 neath. A damp, mouldly smell, significant of death and 
 decay, came up through the opening. He lighted two long 
 waxen tapers, lifted the grating, and I followed him down the 
 narrow steps into the vault where lie the coffins of the Catho- 
 
 18* 
 
*18 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 lie Sovereigns. They were brought here from the Alhambra, 
 in 1525. The leaden sarcophagi, containing the bodies of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, lie, side by side, on stone slabs ; and 
 as I stood between the two, resting a hand on each, the sacris- 
 tan placed the tapers in apertures in the stone, at the head 
 and foot. They sleep, as they wished, in their beloved Gra- 
 nada, and no profane hand has ever disturbed the repose of 
 their ashes. 
 
 After visiting the Church of San Jeronimo, founded by Gon 
 zalvo of Cordova, I went to the adjoining Church and Hospi 
 tal of San Juan de Dios. A fat priest, washing his hands in 
 the sacristy, sent a boy to show me the Chapel of San Juan 
 and the relics. The remains of the Saint rest in a silver chest, 
 standing in the centre of a richly-adorned chapel. Among 
 the relics is a thorn from tlfc crown of Christ, which, as any 
 botanist may see, must have grown on a different plant from 
 the other thorn they show at Seville; and neither kind 
 is found in Palestine. The true spina christi, the nebbuk, hag 
 very small thorns; but nothing could be more cruel, as I 
 found when riding through patches of it near Jericho. The 
 boy also showed me a tooth of San Lorenzo, a crooked brown 
 bicuspis, from which I should infer that the saint was rather an 
 ill-favored man. The gilded chapel of San Juan is in singular 
 contrast with one of the garments which he wore when living 
 —a cowl of plaited reeds, looking like an old fish basket — 
 i^hich is kept in a glass case. His portrait is also to be seen : 
 1 mild and beautiful face, truly that of one who went about 
 doing good. He was a sort of Spanish John Howard, and 
 deserved canonization, if anybody ever did. 
 
 I ascended the street of the Darro to the Albaycin, which 
 
VIEW OF THE VEGi. 419 
 
 we entered by one of the ancient gates. This suburb is still 
 surrounded by the original fortifications, and undermined by 
 the capacious cisterns of the_ Moors. It looks down on Gra- 
 nada ; and from the crumbling parapets there are superb views 
 over the city, the Vega, and its inclosing mountains. The 
 Alhambra rose opposite, against the dark-red and purple back- 
 ground of the Sierra Nevada, and a canopy of heavy rain- 
 clouds rested on all the heights. A fitful gleam of sunshine 
 now and then broke through and wandered over the plain, 
 touching up white towers and olive groves and reaches of the 
 winding Xenil, with a brilliancy which suggested the splendor 
 of the whole picture, if once thus restored to its proper light. 
 I could see Santa F^ in the distance, toward Loxa ; nearer, 
 and more eastward, the Sierra de Elvira, of a deep violet 
 color, with the woods of the Soto de Roma, the Duke of Wel- 
 lington's estate, at its base ; and beyond it the Mountain of 
 Parapanda, the weather-guage of Granada, still covered with 
 
 clouds. There is an old Granadian proverb which says : 
 
 " When Parapanda wears his bonnet, it will rain whether God 
 wiUs it or no." From the chapel of San Miguel, above the 
 Albaycin, there is a very striking view of the deep gorge of 
 the Darro, at one's feet, with the gardens and white walls of 
 the Generalife rising beyond, and the Silla del Moro and the 
 Mountain of the Sun towering above it. The long, irregular 
 lines of the Alhambra, with the htge red towers rising here ant 
 there, reminded me somewhat of a distant view of Karnak ; 
 and, like Karnak, the Alhambra is picturesque from whatever 
 point it is viewed. 
 
 We descended through wastes of cactus to the Darro, in 
 whose turbid stream a group of men were washing fpr gold. I 
 
420 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 watched one of them, as he twirled his bowl in precisely 
 the California style, but got nothing for his pains. Mateo 
 says that they often make a dollar a day, each. Passing nnder 
 the Tower of Comares and along the battlements of the 
 Alhambra, we climbed np to the Generalife. This charming 
 villa is still in good preservation, thongh its exquisite filigree 
 and scroll-work have been greatly injured by whitewash. 
 The elegant colonnades surround gardens rich in roses, 
 myrtles and cypresses, and the fountains that Med the Moor- 
 ish Kings in their summer idleness still pour their fertilizing 
 streams. In one of the rooms is a small and bad portrait gal- 
 lery, containing a supposed portrait of Boabdil. It is a mild, 
 amiable face, but wholly lacks strength of character. 
 
 To-day I devoted to the Alhambra. The storm, which, as 
 Lhe people say, has not been equalled for several years, showed 
 no signs of breaking up, and in the midst of a driving shower 
 I ascended to the Vermilion Towers, which are supposed to 
 be of Phcenician origin. They stand on the extremity of a 
 long, narrow ledge, which stretches out like an arm from the 
 hill of the Alhambra. The paseo lies between, and is shaded 
 by beautiful elms, which the Moors planted. 
 
 I entered the Alhambra by the Gate of Justice, which is a 
 fine specimen of Moorish architecture, though of common red 
 brick and mortar. It is singular what a grace the horse-shoe 
 arch gives to the most heavy and himbering mass of masonry. 
 The round arches of the Christian edifices of Granada seem 
 tame and inelegant, in comparison. Over the arch of the ves- 
 tibule of this gate is the colossal hand, and over the inner 
 entrance the key, celebrated in the tales of Washmgton Irving 
 Bnd the superstitions of the people. I first ascended the Tom 
 
WALLS AND TOWERS OF THE ALHAMBKA. 4Z1 
 
 de la Yela, where the Christian flag was first planted on the 
 2d of January, 1492. The view of the Vega and City of Gra- 
 nada was even grander than from the Albaycin. Parapanda 
 was still bonneted in clouds, but patches of blue sky began to 
 open above the mountains of Loxa. A little boy accompanied 
 us, to see that I did not pull the bell, the sound of which 
 would call together all the troops in the city. WhUe we 
 stood there, the funeral procession of the man murdered two 
 nights before came up the street of Gomerez, and passed 
 around the hill under the Vermilion Towers. 
 
 I made the circuit of the walls before entering the Palace. 
 In the Place of the Cisterns, I stopped to take a drink of the 
 cool water of the Darro, which is brought thither by subterra- 
 nean channels from the hills. Then, passing the ostentatious 
 pile commenced by Charles V., but which was never finished, 
 and never wUl be, nor ought to be, we walked along the 
 southern ramparts to the Tower of the Seven Floors, amid the 
 ruins of which I discerned the top of the arch by which the 
 unfortunate Boabdil quitted Granada, and which was thence- 
 forth closed for ever. In the Tower of the Infantas, a number 
 of workmen were busy restoring the interior, which has been 
 cruelly damaged. The brilliant azuUjo, or tile-work, the deli- 
 cate arches and filigree sculpture of the walls, still attest its 
 former elegance, and give some color to the tradition that it 
 was the residence of the Moorish Princesses. 
 
 As we passed through the little village which stiU exists 
 among the ruins of the fortress, Mateo invited me to step in 
 and see his father, the genuine " honest Mateo," immortalized 
 in the " Tales of the Alhambra." The old man has taken up ' 
 the trade of silk-weaving, and had a number of gay-colored 
 
422 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 ribbons on Ms loom. He is more than sixty years old and 
 now quite gray "headed,- but has the same simple mannevs, the 
 same honest face that attracted his temporary master. He 
 spoke with great enthusiasm of Mr. Irving, and brought out 
 from a place of safety the "Alhambra" and the "Cbronicleg 
 of the Conquest," which he has carefully preserved. He then 
 produced an Andalusian sash, the work of his own hands, 
 which he insisted on binding around my waist, to see how it 
 would look. I must next take off my coat and hat, and put on 
 Ms Sunday jacket and jaunty sombrero. "For Dios !" he 
 exclaimed: "que buen mozo! Seflor, you are a legitunate 
 Andalusian !" After this, of course, 1 could do no less than 
 buy the sash. "You must show it to Washington Irving," 
 said he, " and tell him it was made by "Mateo's own hands ;" 
 which I promised. I must then go into the kitchen, and eat a 
 pomegranate from his garden — a glorious pomegranate, with 
 kernels of crimson, jind so full of blood that you could not 
 touch them but it trickled through your fingers. El Marques, 
 a sprightly dog, and a great slate-colored cat, took possession 
 of my legs, and begged for a share of every mouthful I took, 
 whUe old M?.teo sat beside me, rejoicing in the flavor of a 
 Gibraltar cigar which I gave Mm. But my time was precious, 
 and so I let the " Son of the Alhambra " go back to his loom, 
 and set out for the Palace of the Moorish Kings. 
 
 This palace is so hidden behind the ambitious shell of tiaift 
 of Charles V. that I was at a loss where it could be. I 
 thought I had compassed the hiU, and yet had seen no indica- 
 tions of the renowned magnificence of the Alhambra. But a 
 little door in a blank waK nshered me into a true Moorish 
 realm, the Court of the Fishpond, or of the Myrtles, as it is 
 
THE HAtL OF LIONS. 42S 
 
 BOinetimes called. Here I saw again the slender pillars, the 
 fringed and embroidered arches, and the perforated, lace-like 
 tracery of the fairy corridors. Here, hedges of roses and myr- 
 tles still bloomed around the ancient tank, wherein hundreds of 
 gold-fish disported. The noises of the hill do not penetrate 
 here, and the solitary porter who admitted me went back 
 to his post, and suffered me to wander at will through the 
 enchanted halls. 
 
 I passed out of this court by an opposite door, and saw, 
 through the vistas of marble pillars and the wonderful fret- 
 work which seems » thing of aii" rather than of earth, the 
 Fountain of the ^lons. Thence I entered in succession the 
 Hall of the Abencerrages, the Hall of the Two Sisters, the 
 apartments of the Sultanas, the Mosque, and the Hall of the 
 Ambassadors. These places — all that is left of the renowned 
 palace — are now well kept, and carefully guarded. Restora- 
 tions are going on, here and there, and the place is scrupu- 
 lously watched, that no foreign Vandal may further injure 
 what the native Goths have done their best to destroy. The 
 rubbish has been cleared away ; the rents in the walls have " 
 been filled up, and, for the first time since it passed into 
 Spanish hands, there seems a hope that the Alhambra will be 
 allowed to stand. What' has been already destroyed we' can 
 only partially conjecture ; but no one sees what remains with- 
 out completing the picture in his own imagination, and placing 
 it among the most perfect and marvellous creations of human 
 genius. 
 
 Nothing can exceed the richness of invention which, in this 
 series of halls, corridors, and courts, never repeats the same orna- 
 ments, but, from the simplest primitive forms and colors, produces 
 
424 THE LANOfl or THE 8AKACEN. 
 
 a thonsand combinations, not one of which is in discord with the 
 grand design. It is useless to attempt a detailed description of 
 this architecftire ; and it is so unlike anything else in the world, 
 that, like Karnak and Baalbec, those only know the Alhambra 
 who see it. "When you can weave stone, and hang your halls 
 with marble tapestry, you may rival it. It is nothmg to me 
 that these ornaments are stucco ; to sculpture them in marble 
 is only the work of the hands. Their great excellence is in the 
 design, which, like all great things, suggests even more than it 
 gives. If I could create all that the Court of Lions suggested 
 to me for its completion, it would fulfil the dream of King 
 Sheddad, and surpass the palaces of the Moslem Paradise. 
 
 The pavilions of the Court of Lions, and the halls which 
 open into it, on either side, approach the nearest to their origi- 
 nal perfection. The floors are marble, the wainscoting of 
 painted tiles, the walls of embroidery, still gleaming with the 
 softened lustre of their original tints, and the lofty conical 
 domes seem to be huge sparry crystalizations, hung with drop- 
 ping stalactites, rather than any work of the human hand. 
 Each of these domes is composed of five thousand separate 
 pieces, and the pendent prismatic blocks, colored and gilded, 
 gradually resolve themselves, as you gaze, into the most intri- 
 cate and elegant designs. But you must study long ere you 
 have won all the secret of their beauty. To comprehend them, 
 one should spend a whole day, lying on his back, under each 
 one. Mateo spread his cloak for me in the fountain in the 
 Hall of the Abencerrages, over the blood-stains made by the 
 decapitation of those gaUant chiefs, and I lay half an hour 
 looking upward : and this is what I made out of the dome, 
 from its central pinnacle hung the chalice of a flower with 
 
THE MARVELLOUS D0ME3. 4:2fe 
 
 feathery petals, like the "crape myrtle" of our Southern States, 
 Outside of this, branched downward the eight rays of a largn 
 star, whose points touched the base of the dome ; yet the stair 
 was itself composed of flowers, while between its rays and 
 around its points fell a shower of blossoms, shells, and sparry 
 drops. From the base of the dome hung a gorgeous pattern 
 of lace, with a fringe of bugles, projecting into eight points so 
 as to form a star of drapery, hanging from the points of the 
 flowery star in the dome. T^ spaces between the angles were 
 filled with masses of stalactites, dropping one below the other, 
 till they tapered into the plain square sides of the hall. 
 
 In the Hall of the Two Sisters, I lay likewise for a con- 
 siderable time, resolving its misty glories into shape. The 
 dome was still more suggestive of flowers. The highest and 
 central piece was a deep trumpet-flower, whose mouth was 
 cleft into eight petals. It hung in the centre of a superb 
 lotus-cup, the leaves of which were exquisitely veined and 
 chased. Still further below swung a mass of mimosa blossoms, 
 intermixed with pods and lance-like leaves, and around the 
 base of the dome opened the bells of sixteen gorgeous tulips. 
 These pictures may not be very intelligible, but I know not 
 how else to paint the effect of this fairy architecture. 
 
 In Granada, as in Seville and Cordova, one's sympathies are 
 wholly with the Moors. The few mutilated traces which still 
 remain of their power, taste, and refinement, surpass any of the 
 monuments erected by the race which conquered them. The 
 Moorish Dynasty in Spain was truly, as Irving observes, a 
 splendid exotic, doomed never to take a lasting root in the soil. 
 It was choked to death by the native weeds ; and, in place of 
 lands richly cultivated and teeming with plenty, we now have 
 
^26 THS L&NBS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 ban^n and almost depopulated wastes — ^in place of educatiofl^ 
 
 adnstry, and the coltiTation of the arts and sciences, an 
 
 eislaTed, ignorant uid d^enerate race. Andalusia would be 
 
 &r more prosperous at this day, had she remained in Moslem 
 
 hands. True, she would not have received that Futh which 
 
 is jet destined to be the redemption of the world, bnt the doc- 
 
 tnnes of MalKHuet are more acceptable to God, and more 
 
 baiefidal to Man tiian tliase of ihat Inqdation, which, in 
 
 Spain akHie, has shed ten tircies as much Christian blood as all 
 
 tlie Mad€ra laoes together for the last six centuries. It is not 
 
 £re:3 a mere rana&tie interest tliat I lament the fate of Boab- 
 
 dQ, sr 1 ihe extlnciioD oi his djnasty. Had he been a king 
 
 wceAj to leign is. ih<Ke wonderfol halls, he never would hare 
 
 ka ^OL Had lie penshed there, fighting to the last, he 
 
 wmM %3t« been &eed from fcgtj years of weary exile and an 
 
 e^SQD >^ d-esds. Well did Charles T. oteerre, when speaking 
 
 •f has " Bcixs a tc^b u the Allismbra than a palace in th( 
 
CHANGE OP WEATHER. 
 
 42Y 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 THE BEIDLE-ROADS OF ANDALUSIA. 
 
 Change «f Weathei^-Napoleon and hia Horses — ^Departure from Oranada — My Guida^ 
 Joa6 Garcia— His Domestic Troubles— The Tragedy of the 0mbrella— The.Vow againsi 
 Aguardiente — Crossing the Vega — The Sierra Nevada — ^Xhe Baths of Alhama — " Wot 
 is Me, Alhama 1"— The Valley of the River Velez—Velei Malaga— The Coast Road— 
 The Pisherman and his Donkey— Malaga — Summer Scenery — ^The Story of Don Pedro, 
 without Pear and without Care — The Field of Monda — A Lonely Venta. 
 
 Vesta ds VniuoH, Noemiier 30, 1852. 
 
 The clouds broke away before I had been two hours in the 
 Alhambra, and the sunshine fell broad and warm into its 
 courts. They must be roofed with blue sky, in order to give 
 the full impression of their brightness and beauty. Mateo 
 procured me a bottle of vino ramao, and we drank it together 
 in the Court of Lions. Six hours had passed away before I 
 knew it, and I reluctantly prepared to leave. The clouds by 
 this time had disappeared ; the Vega slept in brilliant sunshine, 
 and the peaks of the Sierra Nevada shone white and cold 
 against the sky. 
 
 On reaching the hotel, I found a little man, nicknamed 
 Napoleon, awaiting me. He was desirous to furnish me with 
 horses, and, having a prophetic knowledge of the weather, 
 promised me a bright sky as far as Gibraltar. " T furnish all 
 the senors," said he ; "they know me, and never complain of 
 
♦So THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 ae or my horses ;" but, by way of security, on making fl^e ba» 
 gain, I threatened to put up a card in the hotel at Gibraltar, 
 warning all travellers against him, in case I was not satisfied 
 My contract was for two horses and a guide, who were to be 
 ready at sunrise the next morning. Napoleon watj as good as 
 his word ; and before I had finished an early cup of chocolate, 
 there was a little black Andalusian stallion awaiting me. The 
 alforjas, or saddle-bags, of the gniSe were strengthened by a 
 stock of cold provisions, the leathern bota hanging beside it 
 was filled with ripe Granada wine ; and now behold me ambling 
 over the Yega, accoatred in a gay Andalusian jacket, a sash 
 woven by Mateo Ximenes, and one of those bandbozy som- 
 breros, which I at first thought so ungainly, but now condder 
 quite picturesque and elegant. 
 
 My guide, a short but smewy and well-knit son of the moun- 
 tains, named Jos6 Garcia, set off at a canter down the banks 
 of the Darro. " Don't ride so fast 1" cried Napoleon, who 
 watched our setting out, from the door of the fonda ; but 
 Jos6 was already out of hearing. This guide is a companion 
 to my liking. Although he is only twenty-seven, he has been 
 for a number of years a correo, or mail-rider, and a guide for 
 travelling parties. His oUve complexion is made still darker 
 by exposure to the sun and wind, and his coal-black eyes shine 
 with Southern heat and fire. He has one of those rare mouths 
 which are born with a broa^ smile in each corner, and which 
 seem to laugh even in the midst of grief. We had not been 
 two hours together, before I knew his history from beginning 
 to end. He had already been married eight years, and his 
 only trouble was a debt of twenty-four dollars, which the illness 
 of Ms wife had caused him. This money l^as owing to the 
 
THE TRAQEDTt Ot THE UMBRELLA. 429 
 
 pawnbroker, who kept his best clothes' in pledge until he conn? 
 pay it. "Senor," said he, "if I had ten million dollars, I 
 would rather give them all away than have a sick wife." H<» 
 had a brother in Puerto Principe, Cuba, who sent over money 
 enough to pay the rent of the house, but he found that child- 
 ren were a great expense. " It is most astonishing," he said, 
 " how much children can eat. From morning till night, the 
 bread is never out of their months." 
 
 Jos6 has recently been travelling with some Spaniarde, one 
 of whom made him pay two dollars for an umbrella which was 
 lost on the road. This umbrella is a thorn in his side. At 
 every venta where we stop, the story is repeated, and he is not 
 sparing of his maledictions. The ghost of that umbrella is 
 continually raised, and it will be a long time before he can shut 
 it. " One reason why I like to travel with foreign Sefiors," 
 said he to me, " is, that when I lose anything, they never make 
 me pay for it." " For all that," I answered, " take care you 
 don't lose my umbrella : it cost three dollars." Since then, 
 nothing can exceed Jos6's attention to that article. He is at 
 his wit's end how to secure it best. It appears sometimes 
 before, sometimes behind him, lashed to the saddle with innu- 
 merable cords ; now he sticks it into the alforja, now carries 
 it in his hand, and I verily believe that he sleeps with it in his 
 arms. Every evening, as he tells his story to the muleteers, 
 around the kitchen fire, he always winds up by triumphantly 
 appealing to me with : "Well, Senor, have I lost your umbrella 
 yet?" 
 
 Our bargain is that I shall feed him on the way, and as we 
 travel in the primitive style of the country, we always sit down 
 together to the same dish. To his supervision, the olla is 
 
«30 THE LANDS OF THE SAEACEN. 
 
 • 
 
 often indebted for an additional flavor, and no "thorough-bred" 
 gentleman could behave at table with more ease and propriety. 
 He is as moderate as a Bedouin in his wants, and never touches 
 the burning aguardiente which the muleteers are accustomed 
 to drink. I asked him the reason of this. " I drink wine, 
 Senor," he replied, ." because that, you know, is like meat and 
 bread ; but I have made a vow never to drink aguardiente 
 again. Two of us got drunk on it, four or five years ago, in 
 Granada, and we quarrelled. My comrade drew his knife and 
 stabbed me here, iiT the left shoulder. I was furious and cut 
 him across the breast. We both went to the hospital — I for 
 three months and he for six — and he died in a few days after 
 getting out. It cost my poor father many a thousand reals ; 
 and when I was able to go to work, I vowed before the Virgin 
 that I would never touch aguardiente again." 
 
 For the first league, our rcfed lay over the rich Vega of 
 Granada, but gradually became wilder and more waste. Pass- 
 ing the long, desert ridge, known as the " Last Sigh of the 
 Moor," we struck across a. region of low hills. The road was 
 very deep, from the recegt rains, and studded, at short inter- 
 vals, by rude crosses, erected to persons who had been mur- 
 dered. Jose took a grim delight in giving me the history of 
 each. Beyond the village of Lamdla, which lies with its salt- 
 pans in a basin of the hills, we ascended the mountain ridge 
 which forms the southern boundary of the Vega. Granada, 
 nearly twenty miles distant, was still visible. The Alhambra 
 was dwindled to a speck, and I took my last view of it and the 
 magnificent landscape which lies spread out before it. The 
 Sierra Nevada, rising to the height of 13,000 feet above the 
 Bea, was perfectly free from clouds, and the whole range was 
 
THE ffOfiGE OF ALHAMA. 
 
 431 
 
 Tisible at one glance. All its chasms were filled with snow, 
 and for nearly half-way down its sides there was not a speck 
 of any other color. Its summits were almost wholly devoid 
 of shadow,, and their notched and Jagged outlines rested 
 flatly against the sky, like ivory inlaid on a table of lapis- 
 lazuli. 
 
 Prom these waste hills, we descended into the valley of 
 Cacia, whose poplar-fringed river had been so swollen by the 
 rains that the correo from Malaga had only succeeded in pass- 
 ing it that mornuig. We forded it without accident, and, 
 crossing a loftier and- bleaker range, came down into the valley 
 of the Marchan. High' on a cliff over the stream stood 
 Alhama, my resting-place for the night. The natural warm 
 baths, on account of which this spot was so beloved by the 
 Moors, are still resorted to in the summer. They lie in the 
 bosom of a deep and rugged gorge, half a mile further down 
 the river. The town occupies the crest of a narrow promon- 
 tory, bounded, on all sides but one, by tremendous precipices. 
 It is one of the most picturesque spots imaginable, and 
 reminded me — to continue the comparison between Syria and 
 Andalusia, which I find so striking — of the gorge of the Bar- 
 rada, near Damascus. Alhama is now a poor, insignificant 
 town, only visited by artists and muleteers. The population 
 wear long brown cloaks and slouched hats, like the natives of 
 La Mancha. 
 
 I found tolerable quarters in a house on the plaza, and took 
 the remaining hour of daylight to view the town. The people 
 looked at me with curiosity, and some boys, walking on the 
 edge of the tajo, or precipice, threw over stones that I might 
 see how deep it was. The rock, in some places, quite over- 
 
432 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 hung the bed of the Marchan, which half-girdles its base. The 
 close scrutiny to which I was subjected by the crowd in tko 
 plaza called to mind all I had heard of Spanish spies and rob- 
 bers. At the venta, I was well treated, but received such an 
 exorbitant bill in the morning that I was ready to exclaim, 
 with King Boabdil, " Woe is me, Alhama 1" On comparing 
 notes with Jos6, I found that he had been obliged to pay, in 
 addition, for what he received — a discovery which so exaspe- 
 rated that worthy that he folded his hands, bowed his head, 
 made three kisses in the air, and cried out : " I swear before 
 the Virgin that I will never again take a traveller to that 
 inn." 
 
 We left AlHama an hour before daybreak, for we had a 
 rough journey of more than forty miles before us. The bridle- 
 path was barely visible in the darkness, but we continued 
 ascending to a height of probably 5,000 feet above the sea, 
 and thus met the sunrise half-way. Crossing the llano of Ace 
 faraya, we reached a tremendous natural portal in the moun- 
 tains, from whence, as from a door, we looked down on all the 
 country lying between us and the sea. The valley of the 
 River Velez, winding among the hills, pointed out the course 
 of our road. On the left towered over us the barren Sierra 
 Tejeda, an isolated group of peaks, about 8,000 feet in height. 
 For miles, the road was a rocky ladder, which we scrambled 
 down on foot, leading our horses. The vegetation gradually 
 became of a warmer and more luxuriant cast ; the southern 
 slopes were planted with the vine that produces the famous 
 Malaga raisins, and the orange groves in the sunny depths of 
 the valleys were as yellow as autumnal beeches, with their 
 enormous loads of fruit. As the bells of V61ez Malaga were 
 
THE INN AT VELEZ MALAGA. 433 
 
 ringing noon, we emerged from the mountains, near tlie moutli 
 of the river, and rode into the town to breakfast. 
 
 We halted at a queer old inn, more like a Turkish khan 
 than a Christian hostlery. It was kept by a fat landlady, who 
 made us an olla of kid and garlic, which, with some coarse 
 bread and the red Malaga wine, soon took off the sharp edge 
 of our mountain appetites. While I was washing my hands 
 at a well in the court-yard, the mozo noticed the pUgrim-seal 
 of Jerusalem, which is stamped indelibly on my left arm. His 
 admiration and rererence were so great that he called the fat 
 landlady, who, on learning that it had been made in Jerusalem, 
 and that I had visited the Holy Sepulchre, summoned her chil- 
 dren to see it. " Here, my children 1" she said'- " cross your- 
 selves, kneel down, and kiss this holy seal ; for^ as long as you 
 live, you may never see the like of it again." Thus I, a Pro- 
 testant heretic, became a Catholic shrine. The children knelt 
 and kissed my arm with touching simplicity ; and the seal will 
 henceforth be more sacred to me than ever. 
 
 The remaining twenty miles or more of the road to Malaga 
 follow the line of the coast, passing headlands crowned by the 
 atalayas, or watch-towers, of the Moors. It is a new road, and 
 practicable for carriages, so that, for Spain, it may be con- 
 sidered an important achievement. The late rains have, how- 
 ever, already undermined it in a number of places. Here, as 
 among the mountains, we met crowds of muleteers, all of whwn 
 greeted me with: "Vayd usted con Dios, cabalkro!" — ("May 
 you go with God, cavalier 1") By this time, all my forgotten 
 Spanish had come back again, and a little experience of the 
 simple ways of the people made me quite at home among them. 
 In almost every instance, I was treated precisely as a Spaniard 
 
 19 
 
484 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 would have been, and less annoyed by the curiosity of tha 
 natives than I hare been in Germany, and even America. 
 
 We were still two leagues from Malaga, at sunset. The 
 fishermen along the coast were hauling in their nets, and we 
 soon began to overtake companies of them, carrying their fish 
 to the city on donkeys. One stout, strapping fellow, with 
 flesh as hard and yellow as a sturgeon's, was seated sideways 
 on a very small donkey, between two immense panniers of fish. 
 As he trotted before ns, shouting, and slapping the flanks of 
 the sturdy little beast, Jose and I began to laugh, whereupon 
 the fellow broke out into the following monologue, addresseu 
 to the donkey : "Who laughs at this hurrico ? Who says he's 
 not fine gold from head to foot ? What is it that he can't do°i 
 If there was a mountain ever so high, he would gallop over ii. 
 If {here was a river ever so deep, he would swim through ii 
 If he could but speak, I might send him to market alone with 
 the fish, and not a chavo of the money would he spend on thri 
 way home. Who says he can't go as far as that limping 
 horse ? Arrrre, burrico ! punate — ar-r-r-r-r-e-e !'' 
 
 We reached Malaga, at last, our horses sorely fagged. At 
 the Fonda de la Alameda, a new and very elegant hotel, i 
 found a bath and a good dinner, both welcome things to a tirec 
 traveller. The winter of Malaga is like spring in other lands 
 and on that account it is much visited by invalids, especiallv 
 English. It is a lively commercial town of about 80,00'.'- 
 inhabitants, and, if the present scheme of railroad communica- 
 tion with Madrid is carried out, must continue to increase in 
 size and importance. A number of manufacturing establishments 
 have lately been started, and in this department it bids fair to 
 rival Barcelona. The harbor is small, but good, and th« 
 
LEAVING MALAGA. 435 
 
 country around rich in all the productions of temperate and 
 even tropical climates. The city contains little to interest the 
 tourist. I visited the Cathedral, an immense unfinished mass, 
 without a particle of architectural taste outwardly, though the 
 interior has a fine effect from its large dimensions. 
 
 At noon to-day, we were again in the saddle, and took the 
 road to the Baths of Caratraca. The tall factory chimneys of 
 Malaga, vomiting forth streams of black smoke, marred the 
 serenity of* the sky ; but the distant view Bf the city is very 
 fine. The broad Vega, watered by the Guadaljorce, is rich and 
 well • cultivated, and now rejoices in the verdure of spring. 
 The meadows are clothed with fresh grass, butter-cups and 
 aaisip.? are in blossom, and larks sing in the olive-trees. Now 
 and l^en, we passed a casa del campo, with its front half buried 
 in or*nge-trees, over which towered two or three sentinel 
 palms After two leagues of this delightful travel, the coun- 
 try became more hiliy, and the groups of mountains which 
 inclosed us assumed the most picturesque and enchanting 
 forms. The soft haze in which the distant peaks were bathed, 
 tne lovely violet shadows filling up their chasms and gorges, 
 and the fresh meadows, vineyards, and olive groves below, 
 madt! the landscape one of the most beautiful I have seen in 
 Spain. 
 
 As we were trotting along through the palmetto thickets, 
 JosO 3<ked me if I should not like to hear an Andalusian story. 
 "Nothing would please me better," I replied. "Eide close 
 besiae me, then," said he, " that you may understand every 
 wor& of it." I complied, and he gave me the following, just 
 as 1 repeat it : " There was once a very rich man, who had 
 thousands of cattle in the Sierra Nevada, and hundreds of 
 
436 TEE LAN0S OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 nouses in the city. Well : this man put a plate, with his name 
 on it, on the door of the great house in which he lived, and 
 the name was this : Don Pedro, without Fear and without 
 Care. Now, when the King was making his pas6o, he hap- 
 pened to ride by this house in his carriage, and saw the plate 
 on the door. ' Read me the name on that plate 1' said he to 
 his officer. Then the officer read the name : Don Pedro, with- 
 out Fear and without Care. ' I will see whether Don Pedro 
 is without Fear and without Care,' said the King. The next 
 day came a messenger to the house, and, when he saw Don 
 Pedro, said he to him ; ' Don Pedro, without Fear and without 
 Care, the King wants you 1' ' What does the King want with 
 me V said Don Pedro. ' He sends you four questions which 
 you must answer within four days, or he will have you shot ; 
 and the questions are : — How can the Sierra Nevada be cleared 
 of snow ? How can the sea be made smaller ? How many 
 arrobas does the moon weigh ? And : How many leagues 
 from here to the Land of Heavenly Glory V Then Don Pedro 
 without Fear and without Care began to sweat from fright, 
 and knew not what he should do. He called some of his arrie- 
 ros and loaded twenty mules with money, and went up into the 
 Sierra Nevada, where his herdsmen tended his flocks ; for, as 
 I said,' he had many thousand cattle. ' God keep you, my 
 master 1' said the chief herdsman, who was young, and hwn 
 mozo, and had as good a head as ever was set on two shoulders. 
 'Anda, hombre!' said Don Pedro, ' I am a dead man ;' and so he 
 told the herdsman all that the King had said. ' Oh, is that 
 aU ?' said the knowing mozo. ' I can get you out of the 
 scrape. Let me go and answer the questions in your name, my 
 master 1' ' Ah, yon fool 1 what can you do ?' said Don Pedro 
 
DON PEDRO WITHOUT FKAR AND WITHOUT OAEB. 431 
 
 without Pear and without Care,, throwing himself upon the 
 earth, and ready to die. 
 
 " But, nevertheless, the herdsman dressed himself up as a 
 taldlero, went down to the city, and, on the fourth day, pre- 
 sented himself at the King's palace. 'What do you want?' 
 said the ofBcers. ' I am Don Pedro without Fear and without 
 Care, come to answer the questions which the King sent to me.' 
 'Well,' said the King, when he was brought before him, 'let 
 me hear your answers, or I will have you shot this day.' 
 'Tour Majesty,' said the herdsman, 'I think I can do it. If 
 you were to set a million of children to playing among the 
 snow of the Sierra Nevada, they would soon clear it all away ; 
 and if you were to dig a ditch as wide and as deep as all 
 Spain, you would make the sea that much smaller.' ' But,' 
 said the King, ' that makes only two questions ; there are two 
 more yet.' ' I think I can answer those, also,' said the herds- 
 man : ' the moon contains four quarters, and therefore weighs 
 only one arroba ; and as for the last question, it is not even a 
 single league to the Land of Heavenly Glory — ^for, if your 
 Majesty were to die after breakfast, you would get there before 
 you had an appetite for dinner.' ' Well done 1' said the King ; 
 and he then made him Count, and Marquez, and I don't know 
 how many other titles. In the meantime, Don Pedro without 
 Fear and without Care had died of his fright ; and, as he left 
 no family, the herdsman took possession of all his estates, and, 
 until the day of his death, was called Don Pedro without Fear 
 and without Care." 
 
 I write, sitting by the grated window of this lonely inn, 
 looking out on the meadows of the Guadaljorce. The chain 
 of mountains which rises to the west of Malaga is purpled by 
 
438 THE LANDS OP THE SAKACEN. 
 
 the light of the setting sun, and the houses and Castle of Car- 
 tama hang on its side, in full view. Further to the right, I see 
 the smoke of Monda, where one of the greatest battles of anti- 
 quity was fought — that which overthrew the sons of Pompey, 
 and gave the Roman Empire to Csesar. The mozo of the 
 venta is busy, preparing my kid and rice, and Jos 6 is at his 
 elbow, gently suggesting ingredients which may give the dish 
 a richer flavor. The landscape is softened by the hush of 
 coming evening ; a few birds are still twittering among the 
 bushes, and the half-moon grows whiter and clearer in mid- 
 heaven. The people about me are humble, but appear honest 
 and peaceful, and nothing indicates that I am in the wild Ser- 
 rania de Ronda, the country of robbers, contrabandistas, and 
 assassinsL 
 
OBANQE VALLEYS. 
 
 4?Q 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE MOUNTAINS OP KONDA. 
 
 > 
 
 Orasge Valleys— {Jlimbtog the Mountama— Josh's Hospitality— El Burgo— The Gate of 
 the Wind— The Cliff and Cascades of Kondar— The Mountain Region— Traces of the 
 Moors — ^Haunts of Robbers — A Stormy Ride — ^The Inn at Qaucin — ^Bad News—- A 
 Boyish Auxiliary— Descent from the Mountains — ^The Ford of the Guadiaro — Our 
 Pears Believed — ^The Cork Woods — Ride from San Roque to Gibraltar — Parting with 
 Jos6-^TraveUing in Spain — Conclusion. 
 
 Gibraltar, Tlvwrsda/y, Ifovember 25, 1852. 
 
 I PASSED an uncomfortable night at the Venta de Yillalon, 
 lying upon a bag stuffed with equal quantities of wool and 
 fleas. Starting before dawn, we followed a path which led 
 into the motintains, where herdsmen and boys were taking out 
 their sheep and goats to pasture ; then it descended into the 
 valley of a stream, bordered with rich bottom-lands. I never 
 saw the orange in a' more flourishing state. We passed several 
 orchards of trees thirty feet high, and every bough and twig 
 so completely laden with fruit, that the foliage was hardly to 
 be seen. 
 
 At the Yenta del Vicario, we found a number of soldiers 
 just setting out for Konda. They appeared to be escorting a 
 convoy of goods, for there were twenty or thirty laden mules 
 gathered at the door. We now ascended a most difficult and 
 stony path, winding through bleak wastes of gray rock, till we 
 
4-* THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 reached a lofty pass in the mountain range. The wind swept 
 through the narrow gateway with a force that almost unhorsea 
 us. From the other side, a sublime but most desolate land- 
 scape opened to my view. Opposite, at ten miles' distance, 
 rose a lofty ridge of naked rock, overhung with clouds. The 
 country between was a chaotic jumble of stony hills, separatai 
 by deep chasms, with just a green patch here and there, U 
 show that it was not entirely forsaken by man. Nevertheless 
 as we descended into it, we found valleys with vineyards and 
 olive groves, which were invisible from above. As we were both 
 getting hungry, Jose stopped at a ventorillo and ordered two 
 cups of wine, for which he insisted on paying. " If I had as 
 many horses as my master, Napoleon," said he, "I would 
 regale the SeSors whenever I travelled with them. I would 
 have puros, and sweetmeats, with plenty of Malaga or Valde- 
 penas in the bota, and they should never complain of their 
 fare." Part of bur road was studded with gray cork-trees, at 
 a distance hardly to be distinguished from olives, and Jos6 dis- 
 mounted to gather the mast, which was as sweet and palatable 
 as chestnuts, with very little of the bitter quercine flavor. At 
 eleven o'clock, we reached El Burgo, so called, probably, from 
 its ancient Moorish fortress. It is a poor, starved village, 
 built on a barren hill, over a stream which is still spanned 
 by a lofty Moorish bridge of a single arch. 
 
 The remaining three leagues to Honda were exceedingly 
 rough and difficult. Climbing a barren ai>cent of nearly a 
 league in length, we reached the Puerto dd Viento, or Gate of 
 the Wind, through which drove such a current that we .were 
 obliged to dismount ; and even then it required all my strength 
 to move against it. The peaks around, far and near, faced 
 
THE CHASM OF EONDA. 441 
 
 with precipitous cliffs, wore the most savage and forbidding 
 aspect : in fact, this region is almost a counterpart of the 
 wilderness lying between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. Very . 
 soon, we touched the skirt of a cloud, and were enveloped in 
 masses of chill, whirling vapor, through which we travelled for 
 three or four miles to a similar gate on the western side of the 
 chain. Descending again, we emerged into a clearer atmo- 
 sphere, and saw below us a wide extent of mountain country, 
 but of a more fertile and cheerful character. Olive orchards 
 and wheat-fields now appeared ; and, at four o'clock, we rode 
 into the streets of Ronda. 
 
 No town can surpass this in the grandeur and picturesque- 
 ness of its position. It i& built on the edge 'of a broad shelf 
 of the mountains, which falls away in a sheer precipice of from 
 six to eight hundred feet in height, and, from the windows of 
 m^y of the houses you can look down the dizzy abyss. This 
 shelf, again, is divided in the centre by a tremendous chasm, 
 three hundred feet wide, and from four to six hundred feet in 
 depth, in the bed of which roars the Guadalvin, boiling in foam- 
 ing whirlpools or leaping in sparkling cascades, till it reaches the 
 valley below. The town lies on both sides of the chasm, which 
 is spanned by a stone bridge of a single arch, with abutments 
 nearly four hundred feet in height. The view of this wonder* 
 ful cleft, either from above or below, is one of the finest of it*- 
 kind in the world. Ronda is as far superior to Tivoji, as '''■ v 
 is to a Dutch village, on the dead levels of Holfe' ^ ~ mv. 
 
 panorama which it commands is on the erande'-' ' n^. 
 
 , . jD scale, ine 
 
 valley below is a garden of fruit and vines i > ' , . ^ j 
 
 I. -11 J T ■ , ,. ^oldyet cultivated 
 
 hills succeed, and m the distance pfee -• ■> 
 
 snother chain of the Serrania <i, p- ' *^« ^'^'^ '™™2. °^ 
 
 .Oi.-^da. Were these sublune 
 
 19* 
 
442 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 cliffs, these charming cascades of the Guadalvin, and this daring 
 bridge, in Italy instead of in Spain, they would be sketched 
 and painted every day in the year ; but I have yet to know 
 where a good picture of Ronda may be found. 
 
 In the bottom of the chasm are a number of corn-mills as 
 old as the time of the Moors. The water, gushing out from 
 the arches of one, drives the wheel of that below, so that a 
 single race supplies them all. I descended by a very steep zig- 
 zag path nearly to the bottom. On a little point or promon- 
 tory overhanging the black depths, there is a Moorish gateway 
 still standing. The sunset threw a lovely glow over the brown 
 cliffs and the airy town above ; but they were far grander when 
 the cascades glittered in the moonlight, and the gulf out of 
 which they leap was lost in profound shadow. The window 
 of my bed-room hung over the chasm. 
 
 Ronda was wrapped in fog, when Jos6 awoke me on ihe 
 
 morning of the 22d. As we had but about twenty-four miles to 
 
 ride that day, we did not leave until sunrise. We rode across 
 
 the bridge, through the old town and down the hill, passing 
 
 the triple lines of the Moorish walls by the original gateways. 
 
 The road, stony and rugged beyond measure, now took to the 
 
 mountains. From the opposite height, there was a fine view 
 
 of the town, perched like an eagle's nest on the verge of its 
 
 \tremendous cliffs ; but a curtain of rain soon fell before it, and 
 
 ^<^dense dark clouds settled around us, and filled up the 
 
 ^_ Nm either hand. Hour after hour, we toiled along the 
 
 ^ '™ ^Nis, scaling the high ridges by rocky ladders, up 
 
 ^ ^ ''Ns climbed with the greatest difficulty. The 
 
 scenery, Xcould obtain a misty glimpse of it, was 
 
 Bublime. Lofty mSK: ■' ° *, 
 
 ^"ridges rose on either hand ; bleak, 
 
TRAVELLING IN A STORM. 448 
 
 Jagged summits of naked rock pierced the clouds, and the deep 
 chasms which separated them sank far below us, dark and 
 indistinct through the rain. Sometimes I caught sight of a 
 little hamlet, hanging on some almost inaccessible ledge, the 
 home of the lawless, semi-Moorish mountaineers who inhabit 
 this wild region. The faces of those we met exhibited marked 
 traces of their Moslem ancestry, especially in the almond- 
 shaped eye and the dusky olive complexion. Their dialect 
 retains many Oriental forms of expression, and I was not a 
 little surprised at finding the Arabic "ema," (yes) in general 
 use, instead of the Spanish "si." 
 
 About eleven o'clock, we reached the rude village of Ata- 
 jate, where we procured a very good breakfast of kid, eggs, 
 and white Ronda wine. The wind and rain increased, but I 
 had no time to lose, as every hour swelled the mountain floods 
 and made the journey more difBcult. This district is in the 
 worst repute of any in Spain ; it is a very nest of robbers and 
 contrabandistas. At the vcnta in.Atajate, they urged us to 
 take a guard, but my valiant Jps6 declared that he had never 
 taken one, and yet was never robbed ; so I trusted to his good 
 luck. The weather, however, was our best protection. In 
 such a driving rain, we could bid defiance to the flint locks of 
 their eseopettes, if, indeed, any could be found, so fond of their 
 trade, as to ply it in a storm 
 
 " Wherein the cuMrawn bear would crouch, 
 The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
 Keep their furs dry." 
 
 Nevertheless, I noticed that each of the few convoys of laden 
 mules which we met, had one or more of the ffuardia, dvU 
 
444 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 accompanying it. Besides these, the only persons abroad were 
 some wild-looking indiTiduals, armed t? the' teeth, and muffled 
 in long cloaks, towards whom, as they passed, Jos6 would give 
 his head a slight toss, and whisper to me : " more contraban- 
 distas." 
 
 We were soon in a condition to defy the weather. The rain 
 beat furiously in our faces, especially when threading the 
 wind-blown passes between the higher peaks. I raised my 
 umbrella as a defence, but the first blast snapped it in twain. 
 The mountain-sides were veined with rills, roaring downward 
 into the hollows, and smaller rills soon began to trickle down 
 my own sides. During the last part of our way, the path was 
 notched along precipitous steeps, where the storm was so thick 
 that we could see nothing either above or below. It was like 
 riding along the outer edge of the 'world. "When once you are 
 thoroughly wet^ it is a great satisfaction to know that you can 
 be no wetter ; and so Jos6 and I went forward in the best 
 possible humor, finding so much diversion in our plight that 
 the dreary leagues were considerably shortened. 
 
 At the venta of Gaucin, where we stopped, the people 
 received us kindly. The house consisted of one room — stable, 
 kitchen, and dining-room all in one. There was a small apart- 
 ment in a windy loft, where a bed (much too short) was pre- 
 pared for me. A fire of dry heather was made in the wide 
 fire-place, and the ruddy flames, with a change of clothing and 
 a draught of the amber vintage of Estepona, soon thawed out 
 the chill of the journey. But I received news which caused 
 me a great deal of anxiety. The River Guadiaro was so high 
 that nobody could cross, and two forlorn muleteers had been 
 waiting eight days at the inn, for the waters to subside. Aug- 
 
A BOYISH AUXILIARY. 445 
 
 mented by the rain which had fallen, and which seemed to 
 increase as night came on, how could I hope to cross it on the 
 morrow ? In two days, the India steamer would be at Gibral- 
 tar ; my passage was already taken, and I must be there. The 
 matter was discussed for some time ; it was pronounced impos- 
 sible to travel by the usual road, but the landlord knew a path 
 among the hiUs which led to a ferry on the Guadiaro, where 
 there was a boat, and from thence we could make our way to 
 San Roque, which is in sight of Gibraltar. He demanded 
 rather a large fee for accompanying me, but there was nothing 
 else to be done. Jos6 and I sat down in great tribulation to 
 our accustomed olla, but neither of us could do justice to it, 
 and the greater part gladdened the landlord's two boys — beau- 
 tiful little imps, with faces like Murillo's cherubs. 
 
 Nevertheless, I passed rather a merry evening, chatting with 
 some of the villagers over a brazier of coals- ; and one of the 
 aforesaid boys, who, although only eight years old, already 
 performed the duties of mozo, lighted- me to my loft. When 
 he had put down the lamp, he tried the door, and asked me : 
 " Have you the key?" "No," said I, "I don't want one ; I 
 am not afraid." " But," he rejoined, " perhaps you may get 
 afraid in the night ; and if you do, strike on this part of the 
 wall (suiting the action to the word) — J sleep on that side." 
 I willingly promised to call him to my aid, if I should get 
 alarmed. I slept but little, for the wind was howling around 
 the tiles over my head, and I was busy with plans for con- 
 structing rafts and swimming currents with a rope around my 
 waist. Finally, I found a little oblivion, but it seemed that I 
 had scarcely closed my eyes, when Jos6 pushed open the door. 
 " Thanks be to God, senor !" said he, " it begins to dawn, 
 
448 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 and the sky is clear : we shall certainly get to Gibraltar 
 to-day." 
 
 The landlord was ready, 10 we took some bread and a bas- 
 ket of olives, and set out at once. Leaving Gaucin, we com- 
 menced descendmg the niountain staircase by which the 
 Serrania of Ronda is scaled, on the side towards Gibraltar. 
 "The road," says Mr. Pord, " seems made by the Evil One in 
 a hanging garden of Eden." After fonr miles of frightfully 
 rugged descent, we reached an orange grove on the banks of 
 the Xenar, and then took a wild path leading along the hills 
 on the right of the stream. We overtook a few muleteers, 
 who were tempted out by the fine weather, and before long the 
 correo, or mail-rider from Ronda to San Uoque, joined us. 
 After eight miles more of toilsome travel we reached the val- 
 ley of the Guadiaro. The river was not more than twenty 
 yards wide, flowing with a deep, strong current, between high 
 banks. Two ropes were stretched across, and a large, clumsy 
 boat was moored to the shore. We called to the ferrymen, 
 but they hesitated, saying that nobody had yet been able to 
 cross. However, we all got in, with our horseg, and two of 
 the men, with much reluctance, drew us over. The current 
 was very powerful, although the river had fallen a little 
 during the night, but we reached the opposite bank without 
 accident. 
 
 We had stUl another river, the G-uargante, to pass, but 
 we were cheered by some peasants whom we met, with the 
 news that the ferry-boat had resumed operations. After this 
 current lay behind us, and there was now nothing but firm 
 land all the way to Gibraltar, Jos6 declared with much 
 earnestness that he was quite as glad, for my sake, as if some- 
 
THE CORK-WOODS. 44T 
 
 body had given him a million of dollars. Our horses, too, 
 seemed to feel that something had been achieved, and showed 
 such a fresh spirit that we loosened the reins and let them gal- 
 lop to their hearts' content over the green meadows. The 
 mountains were now behind us, and the Moorish castle of 
 Gaucin crested a peak blue with the distance. Over hills 
 covered with broom and heather in'blossom, and through hol- 
 lows grown with oleander, arbutus and the mastic shrub, we 
 rode to the cork-wood forests of San Koque, the sporting- 
 ground of Gibraltar oflScers. The barking of dogs, the crack- 
 ing of whips, and now and then a distant halloo, announced 
 that a hunt was in progress, and soon we came upon a company 
 of thirty or forty horsemen, in caps, white gloves and top-boots, 
 scattered along the crest of a hill. I had no desire to stop 
 and witness the sport, for the Mediterranean now lay before 
 me, and the huge gray mass of "The Rock" loomed in the 
 distance. 
 
 At San Roque, which occupies the summit of a conical hill, 
 about half-way between Gibraltar and Algeciras, tnPlandlord 
 left ns, and immediately started on his return. Having now 
 exchanged the rugged bridle-paths of Ronda for a smooth 
 carriage-road, Jos6 and I dashed on at full gallop, to the end 
 of our journey. "We were both bespattered with mud 
 from head to foot, and our jackets and sombreros had lost 
 something of their spruce air. We met a great many ruddy 
 cleanly-shaven Englishmen, who reined up on one side to let us 
 pass, with a look of wonder at our Andalusian impudence. 
 Nothing diverted Jos6 more than to see one of these English 
 men rising in his stirrups, as he went by on a trot. " Look, 
 look, Senor 1" he exclaimed ; " did you ever see the like V 
 
448 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 gild then broke into a fresh explosion of laughter. Passing 
 the Spanish Lines, which stretch across the neck of the sandy 
 little peninsula, connecting Gibraltar with the main land, we 
 rode under the terrible batteries which snarl at Spain from 
 this side of the Rock. Row after row of enormous guns 
 bristle the walls, or look out from the galleries hewn in the sides 
 of inaccessible cliffs. An artificial moat is cut along the base of 
 the Rock, and a simple bridge-road leads into the fortress and 
 towB. After giving up my passport I was allowed to enter, 
 Jos6 having akeady obtained a permit from the Spanish authori- 
 ties. 
 
 I clattered up the long street of the town to the Club 
 House, where I found a company of English friends. In the 
 evening, Jos6 made his appearance, to settle our accounts and 
 take his leave of me. While scrambling down the rocky stair- 
 way of Gaucin, Jos6 had said to me : "Look you, Sefior, I 
 am very fond of English beer, and if I get you to Gibraltar 
 to-day you must give me a glass of it." When, therefore, he 
 came in t^ evening, his eyes sparkled at the sight of a bottle 
 of Alsop's Ale, and a handful of good Gibraltar cigars. 
 "Ah, Sefior," said he, after our books were squared, and he 
 had pocketed his gratijkadm, " I am sorry we are going to 
 part ; for we are good friends, are we not, Senor ?" " Yes, 
 Jos6," said I ; " if I ever come to Granada again, I shall take 
 no other guide than Jos6 Garcia ; and I will have you for a 
 longer journey than this. We shall go over aU Spain together, 
 mi amigo!" "May God grant it I" responded Jos6, crossing 
 himself; " and now, Sefior, I must go. I shall travel back to 
 Granada, muy triste, Sefior, muy triste." The faithful fellow's 
 eyes were full of tears, and, as he lifted my hand twice to hia 
 
TRAVELLING IN SPAIN. 449 
 
 Ups, some warm drops fell upon it God bless his honest heart, 
 wherever he goes I 
 
 And now a word as to travelling in Spain, which is not 
 attended with half the difficulties and annoyances I had been 
 led to expect. My experience, of course, is limited to the 
 provinces of Andalusia, but my route included some of the 
 roughest roads and most dangsroiis robber-districts in the 
 Peninsula. The people with whom I came in contact were 
 invariably friendly and obliging, and I was dealt with much 
 more honestly than I should have been in Italy. With ev*ry 
 disposition to serve you, there is nothing like servility among 
 the Spaniards. The native dignity which characterizes their 
 demeanor prepossesses me very strongly in their favor. There 
 is but one dialect of courtesy, and the muleteers and common 
 peasants address each other with the same grave respect as the 
 Dons and Grandees. My friend Jos6 was a model of good- 
 breeding. 
 
 I had little trouble either with passport-officers or custom- 
 houses. My passport, in fact, was never once demanded, 
 although I took the precaution to have it vised in all the large 
 cities. In Seville and Malaga, it was signed by the American 
 Consuls, without the usual feeot two dollars — almost the only 
 instances which have come under my observation. The regula- 
 tions of the American Consular System, which gives the Con- 
 suls no salary, but permits them, instead, to get their pay out 
 of travellers, is a disgrace to on::' government. It amounts, in 
 effect, to a direct tax on travd,.-&-aA falls heavily on the hun- 
 dreds of young men of limited means, who annually visit 
 Europe for the purpose of completing their education. Every 
 American citizen who travels in Italy pays a passport tax of 
 
450 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN 
 
 ten dollars. In all the ports of the Mediterranean, there is an 
 American Yice-Consul, who does not even get the postage paid 
 on his dispatches, and to whom the advent of a traveller is of 
 course a welcome sight. Misled by a false notion of economy, onr 
 government is fast becoming proverbial for its meanness. If 
 those of our own citizens who represent us abroad only worked 
 as they are paid, and if the foreigners who act as Yice-Consuls 
 without pay did not derive soine petty trading advantages 
 from their position, we should be almost without protection. 
 
 With my departure from Spain closes the record of my 
 Journey in the Lands of the Saracen ; for, although I after- 
 wards beheld more perfect types of Saracenic Art on the banks 
 of the Jumna and the Ganges, they grew up under the great 
 Empire of the descendants ,of Tamerlane, and were the crea- 
 tions of artists foreign to the soil. It would, no doubt, be 
 interesting to contrast the remains of Oriental civilization aud 
 refinement, as they stiU exist at the extreme eastern and 
 western limits of the Moslem sway, and to show how that Art, 
 which had its birth in the capitals of the Qaliphs — ^Damascus 
 and Baghdad — attained its most perfect development in Spain 
 and India ; but my visit to the latter country connects itself 
 naturally with my voyage to China, Loo-Choo, and Japan, 
 forming a separate and distini t field of travel. 
 
 On the STth of November, the Overland Mail Steamer 
 arrived at Gibraltar, and I embarked in her for Alexandria, 
 entering upon another year of even more varied, strange, and 
 adventurous experiences, than that which had closed. I am 
 
CCNCLCS:OH. 461 
 
 almost afraid to ask those patient readers, who have accompa- 
 nied me thus far, to travel with me through another volume ; 
 but next to the pleasure of seeing the world, comes the plea- 
 flure cf telling of it, and I must needs finish my story.