PREPARATIONS FOR LEAVING NINEVEH.--DEPARTURE FOR BABYLON.--DESCENT OF
THE RIVER.--TEKRIT.--THE STATE OF THE RIVERS OF MESOPOTAMIA.--COMMERCE
UPON THEM.--TURKISH ROADS.--THE PLAIN OF DURA.--THE
NAHARWAN.--SAMARRAH.--KADESIA.--PALM GROVES.--KATHIMAIN.--APPROACH TO
BAGHDAD.--THE CITY.--ARRIVAL.--DR. ROSS.--A BRITISH STEAMER.--MODERN
BAGHDAD.--TEL MOHAMMED.--DEPARTURE FOR BABYLON.--A PERSIAN
PRINCE.--ABDE PASHA'S CAMP.--EASTERN FALCONRY.--HAWKING THE
GAZELLE.--APPROACH TO BABYLON.--THE RUINS.--ARRIVAL AT HILLAH.
The winter was now drawing near, and the season was favorable for
examining the remains of ancient cities in Babylonia. The Trustees of the
British Museum had partly sanctioned a plan submitted to them for
excavations amongst ruins, no less important and vast, and of no less
biblical and historical interest than those of Nineveh. I had included, in
my original scheme, many remarkable sites both in Chaldaea and Susiana,
but, as I have before observed, my limited means did not permit me to
carry out my plan to its fullest extent. As the operations at Nimroud were
now, however, suspended, I determined to employ fewer men at Kouyunjik,
and to devote myself, during the cold weather, to researches amongst the
great mounds of Southern Mesopotamia.
My Jebours were now so skilled and experienced in excavating, that I
deemed it more economical to take a party of them with me than to engage
new workmen on the various sites that I might visit. At the same time,
having thus my own men, I should be independent of the people of the
country, who might either be unwilling to labor, or might require
exorbitant pay. I accordingly selected about thirty of the best Arabs
employed in the excavations at Nineveh, to accompany me on the rafts which
bore the sculptures.
Having again entrusted Toma Shisman with the superintendence of the
excavations, and given him all necessary directions for carrying on the
work, I quitted Mosul on the 18th of October, accompanied by Hormuzd and
Mr. Romaine, an English traveller, on his way to India. There were cases
enough containing sculptures from Kouyunjik to load a raft of considerable
size. Hormuzd, who had met with a severe accident, was placed in a bed on
a small _kellek_; Mr. Romaine occupied with me another of the same size.
The servants and cooking apparatus were on the large raft, and we all kept
close company for convenience and mutual protection.
There were still some arrangements connected with the excavations to be
made at Nimroud, and it was not until the 20th that we fairly began our
voyage. The navigation of the river as far as Kalah Sherghat was so
insecure, that I deemed it prudent, in order to avoid a collision with the
Arabs, to engage a Bedouin chief to accompany us. We engaged one Awaythe,
a Sheikh of the Fedagha Shammar, to give us his protection until we had
passed the danger. Placing one of his sons on his mare, and ordering him
to follow us along the banks of the river, he stepped upon my raft, where
he spent his time in giving us accounts of wars and ghazous, smoking his
pipe and pounding coffee.
We reached Tekrit in three days without accident or adventure. Bedouin
tents and moving swarms of men and animals were occasionally seen on the
river banks, but under the protection of our Sheikh we met with no
hindrance. Tekrit is almost the only permanent settlement of any
importance between Mosul and Baghdad. It is now a small town, but was once
a place of some size and strength. Tekrit is chiefly famous as the
birthplace of the celebrated Saleh-ed-din, better known to the English
reader as Saladin, the hero of the crusades, and the magnanimous enemy of
our Richard Coeur-de-Lion. His father, Ayub, a chief of a Kurdish tribe of
Rahwanduz, was governor of its castle for the Seljukian monarchs of
Persia. Mosul itself sustained a siege from Saladin, who was repulsed by
its Atabeg, or hereditary prince. Military expeditions into the Sinjar and
other parts of Mesopotamia were amongst the exploits of this great
Mussulman hero.
Tekrit is now inhabited by a few Arabs, who carry on, as raftsmen, the
traffic of the river between Mosul and Baghdad.
Nothing marks more completely the results of the unjust and injurious
system pursued by the Porte in its Arabian territories than the almost
entire absence of permanent settlements and of commercial intercourse on
the banks of the Euphrates and Tigris. Two of the finest rivers of Asia,
reaching into the very heart of the Turkish dominions, spreading fertility
through districts almost unequalled for the richness of their soil and for
the varied nature of their produce, and navigable one for nearly 850 miles
from the sea, the other for nearly 600 miles, are of no account whatever
to the State upon which nature has conferred such eminent advantages. The
depredations of the Arabs, unchecked by the government, and the rapacity
and dishonesty of the Turkish authorities, who levy illegal and exorbitant
taxes upon every mode of transit whether by land or water, and who make
monopolies of all articles of produce and of merchandise, effectually
check the efforts of the natives themselves, by no means deficient in
commercial activity and enterprise, to engage in trade, or to navigate the
rivers. Even the European merchant, with privileges secured by treaties,
and protection afforded by consuls and diplomatic agency, is scarcely able
to struggle against the insecurity of the country through which he must
convey his goods, and against the black-mail exacted by Arab Sheikhs,
secretly encouraged or abetted by the Turkish governors. From the most
wanton and disgraceful neglect, the Tigris and Euphrates, in the lower
part of their course, are breaking from their natural beds, forming vast
marshes, turning fertile districts into a wilderness, and becoming
unnavigable to vessels of even the smallest burden.
The very high-way from Mosul, and, consequently, from the capital, to
Baghdad, in order to avoid the restless Bedouin, is carried along the foot
of the Kurdish hills, leaving the river, adding many days to the journey,
and exposing caravans to long delays from swollen streams. Even this road
is no longer secure, for the utter negligence and dishonesty that have of
late marked the conduct of the Turkish authorities in Southern Turkey have
led to the interruption of this channel of commerce.
The direct road to Baghdad from the north would be across Mesopotamia, and
along the banks of the Tigris, through a country uninterrupted by a single
stream of any size, or by a single hill. Whilst caravans are now
frequently nearly six weeks on their way from Mosul to Baghdad, they would
scarcely be as many days by the Desert. A few military posts on the river,
a proper system of police, encouragement to the cultivating tribes to
settle in villages, and the construction of a common cart-road, would soon
lead to perfect security and to the establishment of considerable trade.
This is not the place to discuss the relative merits of the various routes
to India, but it may be observed that the time is probably not far
distant, when a more direct and speedy communication than hitherto exists
with that empire, will be sought by the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates,
where railways and steam navigation can both be advantageously brought
into operation. The navigation of the Persian Gulf is, at all times, open
and safe; and a glance at the map will show that a line through the
Mediterranean, the port of Suedia, Aleppo, Mosul, Baghdad, Busrah, and the
Indian Ocean to Bombay is as direct as can well be desired. This must be
the second Indian route before extended civilisation and Christianity can
afford a reasonable basis for those gigantic schemes which would carry a
line of iron through countries almost unknown, and scarcely yet visited by
a solitary European traveller.
Between Tekrit and Baghdad there is much to interest the traveller who for
the first time floats down a river winding through the great alluvial
plains of Chaldaea. The country has, however, been so frequently
described[187], that I will not detain the reader with more than a general
sketch of it. Our rafts glided noiselessly onwards, without furrowing with
a ripple the quiet surface of the stream. Leaving Tekrit, we first passed
a small whitewashed Mussulman tomb, rising on the left or eastern bank, in
a plain that still bears the name of Dura. It was here, as some believe,
that "Nebuchadnezzar the king made an image of gold, whose height was
threescore cubits and breadth six cubits, and called together the princes,
the governors, and the captains, the judges, the treasurers, the
counsellors, the sheriffs, and all the rulers of the provinces to its
dedication, and that certain Jews would not serve his gods, nor fall down
and worship the golden image that he had set up."[188] It is now a
wilderness, with here end there a shapeless mound, the remains of some
ancient habitation. The place is not otherwise unknown to history, for it
was here that, after the death of the Emperor Julian, his successor Jovian
concluded a disgraceful peace with the Persian king Sapores (Shapour), and
saved the Roman army by yielding to the enemy the five great provinces to
the east of the Tigris. It was here, too, that he crossed the Tigris, a
broad and deep stream, and commenced his disastrous retreat through
Mesopotamia.
Not far below, and on the same side of the river, the great canal of the
Naharwan, the wonder of Arab geographers, robbed the Tigris of a large
portion of its waters.
Below the Naharwan, ruins, walls, and dwellings, built chiefly of large
pebbles, united by a strong cement, a mode of construction peculiar to the
Sassanian and early Arab periods, stand on the alluvial cliffs. They are
called Eski, or old, Baghdad; the Arabs, as usual, assigning a more
ancient site to the modern city.
A tower, about two hundred feet high, now rises above the eastern bank of
the river. An ascending way winds round it on the outside like the spiral
of a screw, reminding the traveller of the common ideal pictures of the
Tower of Babel. It marks the site of the ancient city of Samarrah, where
the Roman army under Jovian rested after marching and fighting a long
summer's day. It subsequently became the capital of Motassem Billah, the
eighth caliph of the Abbasside dynasty. Weary of the frequent seditions of
the turbulent inhabitants of Baghdad, he resolved to change the seat of
government, and chose Samarrah as his residence. If he did not build, he
beautified, the city, and displayed in it great magnificence. The modern
town, inhabited by Arabs, consists of a few falling houses surrounded by a
mud wall, defended by bastions and towers.
On both sides of the river, as the raft is carried gently along by the now
sluggish current, the traveller sees huge masses of brick work jutting out
from the falling banks, or overhanging the precipice of earth which hems
in the stream. Here and there one sees the remains of the palaces and
castles of the last Persian kings and of the first Caliphs. The place is
still called Gadesia or Kadesia, and near it was fought that great battle
which gave to the new nation issuing from the wilds of Arabia the dominion
of the Eastern world.
Remains of an earlier period are not wanting. A huge mound abutting on the
west bank of the river, and still within sight of Samarrah, is known to
the Arabs as the Sidd-ul-Nimroud, the wall or rampart of Nimroud. The
current becomes more gentle at every broad reach, until the raft scarcely
glides past the low banks. The water has lost its clearness and its
purity; tinged by the alluvial soil it has turned to a pale yellow color.
The river at length widens into a noble stream. Groups of half-naked Arabs
gather together on the banks to gaze at the travellers. A solitary raft of
firewood for Baghdad floats, like ourselves, almost imperceptibly along.
We are now amidst the date groves. If it be autumn, clusters of golden
fruit hang beneath the fan-like leaves; if spring, the odor of orange
blossoms fills the air. The cooing of the doves that flutter amongst the
branches, begets a pleasing melancholy, and a feeling of listlessness and
repose.
The raft creeps round a projecting bank and two gilded domes and four
stately minarets, all glittering in the rays of an eastern sun, suddenly
rise high above the dense bed of palms. They are of the mosque of
Kathimain, which covers the tombs of two of the Imaums or holy saints of
the Sheeah sect.
The low banks swarm with Arabs,--men, women, and naked children. Mud
hovels screened by yellow mats, and groaning water-wheels worked by the
patient ox, are seen beneath the palms. The Tigris becomes wider and
wider, and the stream is almost motionless. Circular boats, of reeds
coated with bitumen, skim over the water. Horsemen, and riders on white
asses,[189] hurry along the river side. Turks in flowing robes and white
turbans, Persians in high black caps and close-fitting tunics, the Bokhara
pilgrim in his white head-dress and way-worn garments, the Bedouin chief
in his tasseled keffieh and striped aba, Baghdad ladies with their scarlet
and white draperies fretted with threads of gold, and their black
horsehair veils, concealing even their wanton eyes, Persian women wrapped
in their sightless garments, and Arab girls in their simple blue shirts,
are all mingled together in one motley crowd. A busy stream of travellers
flows without ceasing from the gates of the western suburb of Baghdad to
the sacred precincts of Kathimain.
A pine-shaped cone of snowy whiteness rises to the right; near it are one
or two drooping palms, that seem fast falling to decay, like the building
over which they can no longer throw their shade. This is the tomb of
Zobeide, the lovely queen of Haroun-al-Reshid, a name that raises many a
pleasant association, and recalls to memory a thousand romantic dreams of
early youth.
We pass the palace of the governor, an edifice of mean materials and
proportions. At its windows the pasha himself and the various officers of
his household may be seen reclining on their divans, amidst wreaths of
smoke. A crazy bridge of boats crosses the stream, and appears to bar all
further progress. At length the chains are loosened, two or three of the
rude vessels are withdrawn, and the rafts glide gently through. A few
minutes more, and we are anchored beneath the spreading folds of the
British flag, opposite a handsome building, not crumbling into ruins like
its neighbours, but kept in repair with European neatness. A small iron
steamer floats motionless before it. We have arrived at the dwelling of
the English Consul-general and political agent of the East India Company
at Baghdad.
It was early in the morning of the 26th October that I landed at the
well-remembered quay of the British residency. In the absence of Colonel
Rawlinson, then in England, his political duties had been confided to
Captain Kemball, now the East India Company's Resident at Bushire. He
received me with great kindness, and I acknowledge with gratitude the
hospitality and effective assistance I invariably experienced from him
during my sojourn at Baghdad, and my researches in Babylonia.
More than ten years had passed since my first visit to the city. Time had
worked its changes amongst those who then formed the happy and hospitable
English society of Baghdad. Dr. Ross was no more. In him Arab as well as
European, rich as well as poor, Mohammedan as well as Christian, had lost
a generous and faithful friend.
Twelve years ago four steamers floated on the Tigris, and were engaged in
exploring the then almost unknown rivers of Mesopotamia and Susiana.
Their officers formed a small English colony in Baghdad. Three of those
vessels had long been withdrawn, one alone having been left to keep up a
monthly communication between this city and Busrah. It is to be regretted,
however, that a vessel better suited to the navigation of the rivers has
not been selected.
The expedition under Col. Chesney, and the subsequent ascent of the
Euphrates, by far the most arduous undertaking connected with its
navigation, but accomplished with great skill by Captain Campbell of the
East India Company's service, have proved that for ordinary purposes this
river in its present condition is not navigable even in the lower part of
its course. The neglect to keep up the embankments has increased the
obstacles, and it is doubtful whether a steamer of even the smallest
useful size, could now find its way through the great marshes that absorb
the waters of the Euphrates for nearly 200 miles above its confluence with
the Tigris at Korna. The latter river is, for the present, navigable from
the Persian Gulf to vessels drawing from three to four feet water almost
as far as Tekrit, and probably, for vessels purposely constructed, as far
as Nimroud. The usual negligence and indifference of the Turkish
government are, however, bringing about the same changes in the course and
condition of this stream as in those of the Euphrates.
Baghdad, with its long vaulted bazars rich with the produce and
merchandise of every clime, its mixed population of Turks, Arabs,
Persians, Indians, and men of all Eastern nations, its palm groves and
gardens, its painted palaces and unsightly hovels, its present misery and
its former magnificence, have been so frequently described, that I will
not detain the reader with any minute account of this celebrated city.
Tyranny, disease, and inundations have brought it very low. Nearly half
of the space inclosed within its walls is now covered by heaps of ruins,
and the population is daily decreasing, without the hope of change. During
my residence in Baghdad no one could go far beyond the gates without the
risk of falling into the hands of wandering Arabs, who prowled unchecked
over the plains, keeping the city itself almost in a continual state of
siege. Notwithstanding these drawbacks, the importance of its position is
so great that Baghdad must at all times command a considerable trade. It
is a link between the East and the West; it is the store-house from which
the tribes of the Desert obtain their clothing and their supplies, and it
is the key to the holy places annually sought by thousands upon thousands
of Persian pilgrims of the Sheeah sect.[190]
The only remains of the Babylonian period hitherto discovered within the
city walls are the ruins of an enormous drain or subterranean passage,
built of large square bricks bearing the name of Nebuchadnezzar; the lofty
pile of sundried bricks, intermixed with layers of reeds, called
Akker-Kuf, which now rises in the midst of a marsh to the west of the
Tigris, about four or five miles from the city gates, has frequently been
described. During my visit to Baghdad it was not easy to reach this ruin
on account of the swamp, and as it is merely a solid mass of mud masonry,
excavations in it would scarcely have led to results of any interest or
importance.
I found the country around Baghdad so overrun with Bedouins and other
tribes in open revolt against the government, that it was some time before
I could venture to leave the city for the ruins of Babylon. Not to lose
time, I employed the Jebours who had accompanied me from Mosul in
excavating some mounds not far from the gates of the city, on the eastern
bank of the Tigris. The largest was called Tel Mohammed, and was about
four miles from Baghdad, near the Arab village of Gherara. The only
objects of any interest discovered there were several hollow bronze balls,
with the name of a king engraved upon them in Babylonian cuneiform
characters; a few rude images of the Assyrian Venus in baked clay, such as
are found in most ruins of the same period; a pair of bronze ankle-rings,
some terracotta vases, and other relics of the same nature. Foundations in
brick masonry were also uncovered, but there were no traces of sculpture
or inscriptions.
[Illustration: Figures of Assyrian Venus in baked Clay.]
It was not until the 5th of December that I was able to leave Baghdad. I
had been struggling with my old enemy, intermittent fever, and the
surrounding country was still in the hands of the Arabs, two reasons for
remaining within the gates. At length Abde Pasha, the governor of the
province, placed himself at the head of his troops, and marched against
the rebellious tribes. Before beginning his campaign, however, he had to
dam the mouth of a large canal called the Hindiyah, in order to drain the
vast marshes to the west of Babylon. Into these inaccessible swamps the
Arabs had driven their buffaloes, and there they defied the Turkish
troops.
Before going to Hillah I determined to visit the governor, and to make
acquaintance with several Sheikhs of the southern tribes friendly to the
Turkish government who were in his camp. I accordingly left Baghdad,
accompanied by M. Aristarki, an accomplished Greek gentleman in the
service of the Porte, and by one Ahmed-al-Khod, a highly intelligent,
active and faithful Arab of the tribe of the Agayl, who had long been in
the service of Captain Jones. His acquaintance with the country, and his
connection by marriage with Ferhan the Shammar chief, rendered him a very
useful guide and companion in a journey through the Desert.
Leaving Baghdad, after fording ditches and wading through water and deep
mud, in three hours' time we came to the caravanserai of Khan-i-Zad, where
we found Timour Mirza, one of the exiled Persian princes. He was
surrounded by hawks of various kinds standing on perches fixed in the
ground, and by numerous attendants, each bearing a falcon on his wrist.
Amongst his own countrymen and the Arabs the prince held the first place
as a sportsman; his gun was unerring in its aim, his falcons were
unequalled for their training, and he knew every hunting-ground within
many days' journey of Baghdad. He was no less famed for courage in war
than for skill in the chase, and his exploits in both are equally
notorious among the tribes of Mesopotamia.
The plains between Khan-i-Zad and the Euphrates are covered with a perfect
network of ancient canals and watercourses; but "a drought is upon the
waters of Babylon, and they were dried."[191] Their lofty embankments,
stretching on every side in long lines until they are lost in the hazy
distance, or magnified by the mirage into mountains, still defy the hand
of time, and seem rather the work of nature than of man. The face of the
country, too, is dotted with mounds and shapeless heaps, the remains of
ancient towns and villages. A long ride of ten hours through this scene of
solitude and desolation brought us to the tents of the Pasha of Baghdad,
pitched on the western bank of the Euphrates, below the village of
Musseiyib, and on the inlet of the Hindiyah canal. A string of boats had
been placed across the river to connect the camp of the governor with
Baghdad. As we approached we heard a loud hum of human voices; but the
whole encampment was concealed by dense clouds of dust. Once over the
bridge we found ourselves in the midst of a crowd of Turkish soldiers,
Arabs, and workmen of every kind hurrying to and fro in wild disorder;
some bearing earth and mud in baskets, or in their cloaks, others bending
under the weight of bundles of brushwood, mats, and ropes. Women and girls
were mingled with the men, and as they labored they chanted in a
monotonous tone verses on the Pasha and their chiefs, improvised for the
occasion.
This busy throng was building up the dam which was to shut out the waters
of the Euphrates from the canal, dry the marshes, and bring the rebellious
tribes to obedience. The nature of the materials and of the work did not,
however, promise a very favorable or speedy result. They had indeed no
sooner raised half their frail barrier of earth and fascines, than the
impetuous current washed away in a night the fruits of a month's toil. The
Pasha had summoned to his aid all the tribes that still owned his
authority; his tents were crowded with Arab Sheikhs from the plains, and
Kurdish Beys from the mountains. About two thousand regular troops and a
large body of irregular horse and foot completed the motley army he had
gathered round him at the Hindiyah.
I spent the following day with Abde Pasha, who was an ardent sportsman,
and entertained me with hawking. The Arab and Kurdish chiefs, who were in
his camp, were summoned at dawn to accompany him. We formed altogether a
very gay and goodly company. Bustards, hares, gazelles, francolins, and
several wild animals abounded in the jungle and the plains, and before we
returned in the afternoon scarcely a horseman was without some trophy of
the chase dangling from his saddle.
The hawk most valued by Eastern sportsmen is the _Shaheen_, a variety of
the northern peregrine falcon, and esteemed the most noble of the race.
Although the smallest in size, it is celebrated for its courage and
daring, and is constantly the theme of Persian verse. Those from the Gebel
Shammar, in Nedjd, are the most prized, but being only brought by
occasional pilgrims from Mecca, are very rare. The next best are said to
come from Tokat, in Asia Minor. The Shaheen should be caught and trained
when young. It strikes its quarry in the air, and may be taught to attack
even the largest eagle.
The next in value is the _Balaban_, which can be trained to strike its
quarry either in the air or on the ground. It is found in the
neighbourhood of Baghdad and in other parts of Mesopotamia; is caught and
trained when full grown, and is flown at gazelles, hares, cranes,
bustards, partridges, and francolins.
The _Baz_ and _Shah Baz_ (? Astur palumbarius, the goshawk, and the Falco
lanarius) is remarkable for the beauty of its speckled plumage and for its
size. It strikes in the air and on the ground, and, if well trained, may
take cranes and other large game.
The _Chark_ (? Falco cervialis), the usual falcon of the Bedouins, always
strikes its quarry on the ground, except the eagle, which it may be
trained to fly at in the air. It is chiefly used for gazelles and
bustards, but will also take hares and other game.
The bird usually hawked by the Arabs is the middle-sized bustard, or
houbara. It is almost always captured on the ground, and defends itself
vigorously with wings and beak against its assailant, which is often
disabled in the encounter. The falcon is generally trained to this quarry
with a fowl. The method pursued is very simple. It is first taught to take
its raw meat from a man, or from the ground, the distance being daily
increased by the falconer. When the habit is acquired, the flesh is tied
to the back of a fowl; the falcon will at once seize its usual food, and
receives also the liver of the fowl, which is immediately killed. A
bustard is then, if possible, captured alive, and used in the same way. In
a few days the training is complete, and the hawk may be flown at any
large bird on the ground.
The falconry, however, in which Easterns take most delight, is that of the
gazelle. For this very noble and exciting sport, the falcon and greyhound
must be trained to hunt together by a process unfortunately somewhat
cruel. In the first place, the bird is taught to eat its daily ration of
raw meat fastened on the stuffed head of a gazelle. The next step is to
accustom it to look for its food between the horns of a tame gazelle. The
distance between the animal and the falconer is daily increased, until the
hawk will seek its meat when about half a mile off. A greyhound is now
loosed upon the gazelle, the falcon being flown at the same. When the
animal is seized, which of course soon takes place, its throat is cut, and
the hawk is fed with a part of its flesh. After thus sacrificing three
gazelles, the education of the falcon and greyhound is declared to be
complete. The chief art in training is to teach the two to single out the
same gazelle, and the dog not to injure the falcon when struggling on the
ground with the quarry. The greyhound, however, soon learns to watch the
movements of its companion, without whose assistance it could not capture
its prey.
The falcon, when loosed from its jesses, flies steadily and near the
ground towards the retreating gazelles, and marking one, soon separates it
from the herd. It then darts at the head of the affrighted animal, throws
it to the ground, or only checks it in its rapid course. The greyhound
rarely comes up before the blow has been more than once repeated. The
falconer then hastens to secure the quarry. Should the dog not succeed in
capturing the gazelle after it has been struck for the third or fourth
time, the hawk will generally sulk and refuse to hunt any longer. I once
saw a very powerful falcon belonging to Abde Pasha hold a gazelle until
the horsemen succeeded in spearing the animal. The fleetness of the
gazelle is so great, that, without the aid of the hawk, very few dogs can
overtake it, unless the ground be heavy after rain.
The pursuit of the gazelle with the falcon and hound over the boundless
plains of Assyria and Babylonia is one of the most exhilarating and
graceful of sports, displaying equally the noble qualities of the horse,
the dog, and the bird.
The time of day best suited for hawking is very early in the morning,
before the eagles and kites are soaring in the sky. The falcon should not
be fed for several hours before it is taken to the chase. When not
hunting, the Arabs give it meat only once a day. Some hawks require to be
hooded, such as the Chark and the Shaheen; others need no covering for the
eyes. The hood is generally made of colored leather, with eyes worked on
it in beads, and gold and variegated threads. Tassels and ornaments of
various kinds are added, and the great chiefs frequently adorn a favourite
bird with pearls and precious stones. To the legs are sometimes fastened
small bells. Few hawks will return to the falconer without the lure, which
consists of the wing of a bustard or fowl, or of a piece of meat attached
to a string, and swung round in the air. The Eastern huntsman has a
different call for each variety of falcon. A good chark will sometimes
take as many as eight or ten bustards or five or six gazelles in the
course of a morning.
I have introduced these remarks on falconry, founded on personal
experience, as this noble science is probably of the greatest antiquity,
and is still the favorite pursuit of the Eastern warrior.
Before leaving the camp I obtained letters to the principal chiefs of the
southern tribes from the Pasha as well as from Wadi, the Sheikh of the
Zobeide, and other influential Sheikhs. After riding about four hours we
perceived a huge hill to the south. As we drew nearer, its flat table-like
top and perpendicular sides, rising abruptly from an alluvial plain,
showed that it was the work of man, and not a natural elevation. At length
we could plainly distinguish around it great embankments, the remains of
walls and canals. Gradually, as the caravan slowly advanced, the ruin
assumed a definite shape. It was the mound of Babel, better known to
travellers as the Mujelibe, a name not now given to it by the Arab
inhabitants of the surrounding country.
This is the first great ruin seen on approaching ancient Babylon from the
north. Beyond it long lines of palms hem in the Euphrates, which now
winds through the midst of the ancient city. To the vast mound of Babel
succeed long undulating heaps of earth, bricks, and pottery. A solitary
mass of brickwork, rising from the summit of the largest mound, marks the
remains known to the Arabs as the "Mujelibe," or the "overturned."[192]
Other shapeless heaps of rubbish cover for many an acre the face of the
land. On all sides, fragments of glass, marble, pottery, and inscribed
brick are mingled with that peculiar nitrous and blanched soil, which,
bred from the remains of ancient habitations, checks or destroys
vegetation, and renders the site of Babylon a naked and hideous waste.
Owls start from the scanty thickets, and the foul jackal skulks through
the furrows. Truly "the glory of kingdoms and the beauty of the Chaldees'
excellency is as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. Wild beasts of the
desert lie there; and their houses are full of doleful creatures; and owls
dwell there, and satyrs dance there. And the wild beasts of the islands
cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleasant palaces," for
her day has come.[193]
A few black tents and flocks of sheep and camels were scattered over the
yellow plain. They belonged chiefly to the Zobeide, an ancient tribe,
renowned in the history of the conquering Arabs under their first caliphs,
and now pasturing their flocks in the wilds of Babylonia.[194] From Amran,
the last of the great mounds, a broad and well-trodden track winds
through thick groves of palms. About an hour's ride beneath a pleasant
shade brings the traveller to the falling gateway of the town of Hillah. A
mean bazar, crowded with Arabs, camels, and asses, leads to a bridge of
boats across the Euphrates. The principal part of the town, containing the
fort and the residence of the governor, is on the opposite side of the
river. We turned off, however, to the left, as our quarters had been made
ready on the western bank. A party of irregular troops sent out to meet
me, conducted my caravan to a spacious house standing on the very edge of
the stream, and belonging to one of the principal families of the place.
It had once contained rich furniture, and handsomely decorated rooms in
the Persian style, but was now fast falling into utter ruin. The cold wind
whistled through the rotten wooden panels of the windows, for there was no
glass, and the crumbling ceiling and floor threatened to give way
together. In this frail dwelling we prepared to pass a part of our winter
in Babylonia.
[Illustration: The Mujelibe or Kasr (from Rich).]