RUINS IN SOUTHERN MESOPOTAMIA.--DEPARTURE FROM
HILLAH.--SAND-HILLS.--VILLAGES IN THE JEZIREH.--SHEIKH
KARBOUL.--RUINS.--FIRST VIEW OF NIFFER.--THE MARSHES.--ARAB
BOATS.--ARRIVE AT SOUK-EL-AFAIJ.--SHEIKH AGAB.--TOWN OF THE
AFAIJ.--DESCRIPTION OF THE RUINS OF NIFFER.--EXCAVATIONS IN THE
MOUNDS.--DISCOVERY OF COFFINS.--OF VARIOUS RELICS.--MR. LOFTUS'
DISCOVERIES AT WURKA.--THE ARAB TRIBES.--WILD BEASTS.--LIONS.--CUSTOMS
OF THE AFAIJ.--LEAVE THE MARSHES.--RETURN TO BAGHDAD.--A MIRAGE.
The south of Mesopotamia abounds in extensive and important ruins, of
which little is known. The country around them is inhabited by Arabs of
the tribes of Rubbiyah and Ahl Maidan, notorious for their lawlessness,
and scarcely more intelligent or human than the buffaloes which they tend.
One or two travellers have passed these remains of ancient civilisation
when journeying through the Jezireh, or have received descriptions of them
from natives of the country. Mr. Loftus was the first to explore the most
important. Being attached, as geologist, to the mission for the settlement
of the boundaries between Persia and Turkey, he went by land from Baghdad
to Busrah to join its other members. As he was accompanied by an escort of
troops he was able to visit the principal ruins on the way without risk.
He found the tribes well-disposed towards Europeans, though very hostile
to the Turks. Taking advantage of this favorable feeling, and relying upon
the protection of the Arab Sheikhs, Mr. Loftus returned a second time
alone, and was able to excavate in some of the larger mounds. He obtained
during this expedition the highly interesting collection of antiquities
from Wurka, now in the British Museum.
All these ruins are best reached from Hillah. The Sheikhs of the Arab
tribes living near them are usually in friendly communication with the
principal people of that town. Owing, however, to the present disturbed
state of the country, I was compelled to ask for safe conduct from Agab,
the Sheikh of the Afaij.
The Afaij dwell in the midst of extensive marshes formed by the Euphrates,
about fifty miles below Hillah. On the eastern border of these swamps rise
the great ruins of Niffer, which I was first desirous of examining. After
some discussion, it was finally settled that we were to go by land,
keeping as much as possible in the centre of Mesopotamia, and thus
avoiding the neighbourhood of the Euphrates, as the Arabs were now
congregated along the banks of the river. Zaid, with an Agayl of his
acquaintance, agreed to accompany me. My own Jebours were, of course, of
the party. Having hired mules and laid in a proper stock of provisions,
tools, and packing cases to hold any antiquities that might be discovered,
we began our journey on Wednesday, the 15th of January.
The weather was bright and intensely cold. The sky was cloudless, but a
biting north wind swept across the plain. It was the middle of the
Babylonian winter, and a hard frost daily whitened the ground. We left
Hillah by the Baghdad gate. The Bairakdar was with me, with the rest of my
Mosul servants. My huntsman, old Seyyid Jasim, wrapt up in his thick Arab
cloak, bore his favorite hawk on his wrist. He was followed, as usual, by
the greyhounds. The Jebours went partly on foot, riding by turns on the
baggage horses. Mr. Hormuzd Rassam was wanting to complete our party. He
had been kept in Baghdad by severe illness almost since our arrival, and
for the first time during my wanderings in Mesopotamia he was not with me.
We followed a track leading towards the centre of the Mesopotamian Desert.
Our course was nearly due east. About six miles from the town we found
ourselves amidst moving sand-hills, extending far and wide on all sides.
The fine sand shifts with every breeze, and the wrinkled heaps are like
the rippled surface of a lake. When the furious southerly wind sweeps over
them, it raises a dense suffocating dust, blinding the wayfaring Arab, and
leaving him to perish in the trackless labyrinth.
After four hours' ride we left the sand-heaps, and again came in sight of
the black belt of palm trees. After stopping to drink water we proceeded
to a small hamlet called Allak, and took up our quarters for the night in
the museef of its Sheikh, who, notwithstanding his poverty, received us
very hospitably. He related to me how from the numerous artificial mounds
in the surrounding plains were frequently taken, after rain had washed
away the soil, earthen jars and coffins containing ornaments of gold and
silver.
As we continued our journey during the following day, still keeping in the
Desert, we passed one or two small encampments of the Zobeide tribe. The
Arabs, alarmed at the approach of so large a party, and believing us to be
horsemen on a foray, sallied forth to meet us at some distance from their
tents, flourishing their weapons and chanting their wild war-cry. The
plain, although now without any stationary population, was once thickly
inhabited. The lion, the hyena, the wolf, the jackal, the wild boar, the
fox, and the porcupine now alone break the solitude of a wilderness once
the seat of the most luxurious and civilised nation of the East.
It would be needless to describe the few deserted villages we passed
during our day's journey; their mud walls, once a protection against the
wandering Arab, are unable to resist the encroaching sand, which has
already overwhelmed the empty dwellings. In this region the habitations of
men are turned almost in a day to mere heaps of earth. The district is
called Shomali.
After a ride of six hours we reached an ancient mound of considerable
size, called Haroun. On its summit was a ruined Imaum-zadeh (Mussulman
oratory). It was a sacred place to the Arab, and on this account had been
used as a burying-place. The grave of the wandering Arab is rarely far
beneath the surface of the soil, and the wild beasts of the Desert soon
scrape away the scanty earth. Human skulls and remains, scarcely yet
bleached by the sun, were scattered over the ruins, mingled with bricks,
pottery, broken glass, and other relics of ancient population.
We had scarcely passed Haroun when a party of Arabs on horseback and on
foot suddenly came forth from behind the lofty banks of a dry canal. They
had seen our caravan from afar, and had waylaid us. After they had
followed us for some distance they turned back to their tribe, deeming it
prudent not to venture an attack, as we were fully prepared for them.
Shortly after their departure, a gazelle rose from a thicket, and bounded
across the plain. Seyyid Jasim unloosed his hawk, and I pursued with the
dogs. The sight of horsemen galloping to and fro alarmed an Arab
settlement gathered round a small mud fort belonging to a chief called
Karboul. The men armed themselves and came out against us. Our Afaij
guides, however, soon made themselves known to them, and they then
escorted our caravan to their tents, dancing a wild dance, shouting their
war-cries, singing war-songs, and firing their matchlocks. Most of them
had no other clothing than the shirt taken off their shoulders and tied
round their loins. Their countenances were singularly ferocious, their
bright eyes and white teeth making them even more hideous. Long black
matted hair was scattered over their heads in horrid confusion, and their
bodies were tanned by the burning sun to the color and substance of old
leather.
Their Sheikh, Karboul, was scarcely less savage in his appearance, though
somewhat better clothed. However ill-disposed he might have been towards
Europeans, or travellers in general, he acknowledged the protection that
had been extended to us by the Afaij chief, and led me with words of
welcome to his spacious tent. His followers, excited by the late alarm,
and now full of warlike enthusiasm, were not, however, to be dismissed
until they had satisfied themselves by performing various warlike dances.
They did so in circles before the tent, raising a few tattered flags, and
deafening me by their shouts and barbarous songs.
These wild beings, little better than mere beasts, lived in hovels made of
mats and brushwood. They fed large herds of buffaloes; but the greater
part of their sheep and cattle had been driven away by the Bedouins. Their
tribe was the Shabaneh, a branch of the Ahl Ukra.
Next morning Karboul sent his son and a party of horsemen to escort us for
some distance on our road. We had to make a considerable circuit to the
east to encompass the marsh, which has now spread over the lower part of
the Mesopotamian plain. We passed numerous artificial mounds, covered with
fragments of bricks, pottery, glazed tiles, richly-colored glass and other
relics that mark the site of Babylonian ruins. Canals, too, no longer fed
by the Euphrates, everywhere crossed our path, and limited our view. The
parched soil outside the swamp has become fine sand, amidst which small
tufts of the hardy tamarisk form the only vegetation.
After two hours' ride, we emerged from the labyrinth of dry canals, and
ascending a heap of rubbish covering some ancient ruin, we beheld, looming
on the horizon like a distant mountain, the principal object of my
journey--the mounds of Niffer. They were still nearly ten miles from us.
Magnified as they were by the mirage they appeared far to exceed in size
and height any artificial elevation that I had hitherto seen.
To the east of us rose another great ruin, called Zibbliyah, a lofty,
square mass, apparently of sundried brick. It resembled in form, and was
scarcely less in size than the well-known remains of Akkerkuf, near
Baghdad.
Between us and Niffer were still many mounds and ancient canals. The
largest of the former, covered with bricks and pottery, was called by our
Arab guides El Hamra, "the red." The principal canal, whose waters had
once been confined between two enormous embankments, ran in a direct line
towards the ruins. It is now dry, but appears to have once supplied the
city.
After a journey of five hours we reached the ruins of Niffer. They differ
in general form from the great mounds of Assyria, with which my
descriptions may have familiarised the reader. Although at their
north-east corner is a cone similar to those of Nimroud and
Kalah-Sherghat, yet, in their broken outline and in their division into
several distinct parts, they have more the appearance of the remains of
different buildings than that of one regular platform surrounded by walls.
In this respect they are not unlike the Mujelibe (Kasr) and the Amran of
Babylon. The mounds cover altogether a very considerable area of ground,
and stand on the edge of the marsh, which is gradually encroaching upon
them, and which occasionally during high floods of the Euphrates
completely surrounds them. They are strewed with the usual fragments of
brick, glazed and unglazed pottery, and glass. A loose nitrous soil, into
which the feet sink above the ankles, forms a coating about a yard deep
over a harder and more compact soil. In the ravines large earthen jars and
portions of brick masonry are occasionally uncovered by the rains.
Commencing my search after antiquities as soon as we had reached the
summit of the principal mound, it was not long before I discovered, in one
of these newly-formed ruts, a perfect vase, about five feet high,
containing human remains. Other objects of the same kind were found by the
Arabs who were with me. But I left more careful researches to the time
when I could commence excavations below the surface. Leaving, therefore,
the ruins, I hastened to the place where my tents were pitched about two
miles beyond the ruins on the margin of the marsh. In front of the
encampment was a small lake or pond, from which the reeds seemed to have
been carefully cleared.
We had sent one of our Afaij guides to inform Sheikh Agab of our approach.
I had not been long seated in my tent when suddenly a number of black
boats, each bearing a party of Arabs, darted from the reeds and approached
the shore. They were of various sizes. In the bottom of some, eight or ten
persons sat crouched on their hams; in others, only one or two. Men
standing at the head and stern with long bamboo poles of great lightness
guided and impelled them. The largest were built of teakwood, but the
others consisted simply of a very narrow frame-work of rushes covered with
bitumen, resembling probably "the vessels of bulrushes" mentioned by
Isaiah.[228] They skimmed over the surface of the water with great
rapidity.
The tiradas, for so these boats are called by the Arabs, drew up along the
bank in the open basin before our tents. The largest evidently contained
three chiefs, who landed and advanced towards me. They were the sons of
the Sheikh of the Afaij. Their father had sent them to welcome me to his
territories. They brought with them provisions for my caravan, as their
village, they said, was still far distant, and it would be impossible to
transport our baggage and lead our horses thither before nightfall. The
young men were handsome, well-dressed and well-armed, and very courteous.
The complexion of these marsh Arabs, from constant exposure to the intense
heat of the sun, is almost black, with the usual contrast of eyes of
extraordinary brilliancy, and teeth of the whiteness of pearls. They wear
their hair in long, well-greased plaits.
The young Sheikhs had been ordered by their father to remain with me
during the night, and to place a proper guard round the tents, as the
outskirts of the marsh were infested, we were assured, by roving Bedouins
and midnight thieves. I gained, as other travellers had done before me,
some credit for wisdom and superhuman knowledge by predicting, through the
aid of an almanack, a partial eclipse of the moon. It duly took place to
the great dismay of my guests, who well nigh knocked out the bottoms of
all my kitchen utensils in their endeavor to frighten away the Jins who
had thus laid hold of the planet.[229]
Soon after sunrise the Sheikh's own tirada issued from the reeds into the
open space. It had been spread with carpets and silken cushions for my
reception. The baggage was placed in other boats, but the unfortunate
horses, under the guidance of a party of naked Arabs, had to swim the
stream, and to struggle through the swamp as they best could. The armed
men entered their various vessels, and we all left the shore together.
The tirada in which I sat was skilfully managed by two Arabs with long
bamboo poles. It skimmed rapidly over the small lake, and then turned into
a broad street cut through green reeds rising fourteen or fifteen feet on
both sides of us. The current, where the vegetation had thus been cleared
away, ran at the rate of about two miles an hour, and, as we were going
towards the Euphrates, was against us. We passed the entrances to many
lanes branching off to the right and to the left. From them came black
boats filled with Arab men and women carrying the produce of their buffalo
herds to the Souk or market.
Herds of buffaloes here and there struggled and splashed amongst the
rushes, their unwieldy bodies completely concealed under water, and their
hideous heads just visible upon the surface. Occasionally a small plot of
ground, scarcely an inch above the level of the marsh, and itself half a
swamp, was covered with huts built of reeds, canes, and bright yellow
mats. These were the dwellings of the Afaij, and, as we passed by, troops
of half-naked men, women, and children issued from them, and stood on the
bank to gaze at the strangers.
The lanes now became more crowded with tiradas. The boatmen, however,
darted by the heavier vessels, turned the sharp corners, and managed their
frail barks with great skill and ease. The openings in the reeds began to
be more numerous, and it required a perfect knowledge of the various
windings and streets to follow the right way. This singular scene recalled
vividly to my mind the sculptures of Kouyunjik representing the Assyrian
wars in marshes of the same nature, and probably formed by the waters of
the same river. The streets through the reeds, and the tiradas or boats of
rushes smeared with bitumen, are faithfully delineated in the bas-reliefs,
showing how little the barbarous inhabitants of these great swamps have
changed after the lapse of nearly three thousand years. If we may judge,
however, from the spoil of furniture and of vessels of metal, probably of
gold and silver, carried away from them by the conquerors, the ancient
tribes appear to have been more wealthy and more ingenious than their
descendants.
Soon after entering a narrow canal, we stopped near some larger and better
built huts than any we had yet seen. Before them, at the water's edge, and
waiting to receive us, were drawn up a number of armed men, at the head of
whom stood a tall, handsome Arab. He was attired in a long robe of scarlet
silk of Damascus, over which he wore one of those cloaks richly
embroidered in gold thread down the back and one arm, peculiar to Baghdad.
This was Agab, Sheikh of the Afaij. As I stepped out of the tirada he
threw his arms round my neck, and gave me the usual embrace of welcome.
The chief led us at once to the museef. The guesthouse was built of the
same materials as the smaller cabins, but they were far more tastefully
put together. It resembled in shape the boiler of some enormous
steam-engine. Reeds bound together, were bent into arches at regular
intervals, and formed a series of ribs, upon which were stretched the
choicest mats. About fifty persons could conveniently sit in this hut. In
the centre was the usual array of bright pots and tiny cups ranged in
circular trays, round a smouldering fire. A hideous black slave, crouching
upon his haunches, was roasting coffee and pounding the fragrant beans in
an iron mortar. Down both sides were spread carpets and mats; soft
cushions of figured silk were specially prepared for the European guest.
The museef stood at a short distance from the other huts, and in a corner
formed by two water-streets branching off at right angles. In front of it
was the harem of the Sheikh. It consisted of several cabins in an
enclosure formed entirely by walls of reeds and mats. Beyond was a great
collection of huts, and in the middle of them the bazars, consisting of
double rows of shops, all of the same frail materials. So that this Arab
town was built entirely of mats and reeds.
Agab received me in the most friendly manner, and entered at once into my
plans for excavating, describing the ruins existing in the neighbourhood.
He ordered his people to raise a hut for my servants and the Jebour
workmen, and to pitch my tents in the open space opposite the museef.
Building is not a lengthy or difficult process where the materials are so
simple. Within an hour the mats had been dragged from the harem, the
bundles of reeds turned into graceful arches, and the cabin duly covered
in. As a dwelling-place, however, the small island on which the Sheikh of
the Afaij had thought fit to erect his moveable capital was not perhaps
the most desirable in the world. Had the Euphrates risen by any sudden
flood we should have been completely under water. My proposition to
encamp on the mounds of Niffer was negatived by Agab, on account of the
dangers from the Bedouins, evil spirits, beasts of prey, and the like. So
I made up my mind to remain at the Souk.
The Sheikh believing I was in search of gold, was always my attendant with
his followers. He knew so many authentic instances of enormous wealth
having been dug up at Niffer, that it was useless to argue with him upon
the subject. He related to me in the usual expressive manner of the Arabs,
the following story:--In the time of Hatab, the uncle of Wadi, Sheikh of
the Zobeide, a cameleer of that tribe chanced to be at Damascus with his
camels. As he was walking one day in the bazar, an aged man accosted him.
"O Sheikh of the Caravan," said he, "I know that thou art from the
southern Jezireh, and from the land of the Zobeide. God be praised for
sending thee to me! Now there is in that country a great mound, that marks
the site of an ancient city of the Unbelievers, called Niffer. Go, dig in
the dry bed of the Shat-el-Neel, in the midst of the ruins, and thou wilt
find a stone white as milk; bring it to me, and thou shalt have for a
reward double the usual hire for thy camels both there and back." The
cameleer was at a loss to guess how the old man knew of the stone, but he
did as he had been asked, and in the place described to him he found the
white stone, which was just a camel's burden. He took it to Damascus, and
gave it to the Sheikh, who first paid him his just reward, and then broke
the stone into pieces before him. It was, of course, full of gold, and the
philosopher had learned where it was to be found in the books of the
Infidels.
Being thus compelled to remain at the Souk, I fitted up my tent and cabins
as well as I was able. The weather was intensely cold, and it was the
middle of the rainy season. By the help of mats we were able to keep out
the water to a certain extent. The excavations were carried on until the
3rd of February, and I will describe at once their general results.
Niffer, as I have already observed, consists rather of a collection of
mounds of unequal height, and irregular form, than of one compact
platform, like the principal ruins of Assyria. They may be divided into
four distinct groups, each surrounded, and separated from the others, by
deep ravines, which have the appearance of ancient streets. The high cone
at the north-east corner is probably the remains of a square tower
constructed entirely of large sundried bricks. Beneath the cone masonry of
sundried and kiln-burnt bricks protrudes from the sides of the ravines.
The bricks are generally smaller in dimensions than those from Babylon,
and long and narrow in shape. Many of them are stamped with inscriptions
in the Babylonian character, containing the name of a king and of the
city.
My workmen were divided into gangs, or karkhanehs, as they are called by
the Arabs, and were placed in different parts of the ruins. On the first
day some cells or recesses containing human remains were discovered.
During the two subsequent days we found many vases and jars of
earthenware, some glazed and others plain. With these relics was a bowl,
unfortunately much broken, covered with ancient Hebrew characters, similar
to those discovered at Babylon. Fragments of similar vessels were
afterwards dug out of the ruins.
On the mound of Niffer, as on other ruins of the same period in this part
of Mesopotamia, are found numerous fragments of highly-glazed pottery, of
a rich blue color, but very coarse and fragile in texture. I was at a loss
to conjecture the nature of the objects of which they had originally
formed part, until, on the fourth day of the excavations, a party of
workmen uncovered a coffin or sarcophagus, of precisely the same material.
Within it were human remains, which crumbled to dust almost as soon as
exposed to the air. The earthenware was so ill-burnt, and had suffered so
much from age, that I was unable to remove this coffin entire. It fell to
pieces as soon as I endeavored to detach it from the soil by which it was
surrounded. But beneath it was found a second, and subsequently scarcely a
day elapsed without the discovery of four or five similar coffins. The
largest were about six feet long; some, containing the remains of
children, scarcely exceeded three. They were all of nearly the same shape;
an oval, about two feet wide, for the head and shoulders of the corpse,
joined to a narrow box for the legs and feet. The oval was closed by a
detached flat lid; the rest of the coffin was covered, and there was a
small hole at the very end. The body must, consequently, have been forced
into the sarcophagus from the top or open part.
All these coffins were covered with bright greenish, blue glaze-colored
with copper, like that on pottery and bricks from the ruins of Babylon.
Some were ornamented with scroll work and other designs; others, with rude
figures of men and animals in relief. They were all of the same fragile
material. The clay, moreover, having been only partially burnt, had been
exposed to the action of the nitre so abundant in the soil. Without
considerable care it was impossible to remove any entire, although the
surrounding earth was easily detached from them.
Human remains, more or less perfect, were found in all these sarcophagi.
Sometimes, as the lid was carefully removed, I could almost distinguish
the body, wrapped in its grave clothes, and still lying in its narrow
resting-place. But no sooner did the outer air reach the empty crust of
humanity than it fell away into dust, leaving only the skull and great
bones of the arms and legs to show what these now empty cases had once
contained. One or two small cups or vases in the same glazed pottery, and
a few beads and engraved gems, were occasionally gathered from the
crumbling remains; but no ornaments of gold or silver were discovered at
Niffer, though it appears that the Arabs frequently find them in similar
coffins from other ruins in southern Mesopotamia. It is remarkable,
however, that there were no ornaments whatever in metal in nearly a
hundred coffins which I opened at Niffer.
It is impossible to estimate the number of these earthen coffins; the
upper part of the mound in some places appeared to consist almost entirely
of them. They generally rested one upon the other, but in some cases were
separated by a layer of flat bricks or tiles. As fast as the fragments of
one were removed a second appeared beneath it; and notwithstanding the
number thus taken away, I did not penetrate many feet beneath the surface.
In the lower part of Mesopotamia are many ruins in which similar remains
are equally abundant. Fragments of glazed pottery, broken from them, are
seen on every ancient site to the south of Babylon. According to Mr.
Loftus, the vast mound of Wurka is built almost entirely of such coffins,
piled one above the other, and consequently many thousands, or rather
hundreds of thousands must exist in it alone.
It is difficult to arrive at a very satisfactory conclusion as to the
precise date of these remains. My own impression is that they are
comparatively modern; that is, that they are to be attributed to a period
subsequent to the fall of the Babylonian empire, extending from the
second or first century before the Christian era to even the time of the
Arab invasion. Colonel Rawlinson entertains, I believe, a different
opinion, and would attribute them to a much earlier period. If the great
mounds of Niffer be the remains of a Babylonian city, as they probably
are, it is evident that that city must have been completely destroyed, and
its ruins covered with earth long before a people, afterwards inhabiting
the country, could have buried their dead above them.
In one part of the mound, in a kind of recess or small chamber of brick
masonry, was discovered a heap of pottery of a yellow color, very thin and
fragile, much resembling that still made at Baghdad to hold water in hot
weather. Many vases and cups were still entire. With them were fragments
of glass bottles, jars, and other vessels; and several highly glazed or
enamelled dishes. These relics appeared to be of the same period as the
sarcophagi. A large number of coarse jars or urns, some nearly six feet
high, were dug out of various parts of the mound. They contained bones of
men and animals, and their mouths had been carefully closed by a tile or
brick plastered with bitumen.
Although many deep trenches were opened in the ruins, and in the conical
mound at the north-east corner, no other remains or relics were
discovered. With the exception of a few massive foundations, and the
bricks bearing a cuneiform superscription, I much doubt whether anything
found at Niffer was of the true Babylonian period. The Arabs have a story
that a great black stone exists somewhere in the ruins. I had once
conjectured that it might be the identical obelisk said to have been
brought by Semiramis from Armenia to Babylon.[230] After I had searched
in vain for it, I was assured that it was near some mounds several miles
to the east of Niffer. I sent a party of workmen to the spot, but with no
better success. On the whole, I am much inclined to question whether
extensive excavations carried on at Niffer would produce any very
important or interesting results.
In the Afaij bazar I was able to purchase a few relics from the Arabs;
they consisted chiefly of cylinders and engraved gems. But even such
remains were far more scarce than I had anticipated. A ram in baked clay,
with three holes for holding colors or ointments, apparently Babylonian,
and a pebble of white marble, on which are rudely engraved two goats
before the sacred tree, and a few cuneiform characters, were brought to me
from some neighboring ruin. Such were all the antiquities I obtained
during my visit to Niffer. With the pottery collected at the mound they
are now in the British Museum.
One of my principal objects in journeying into these wild tracts of
southern Mesopotamia, was to visit and explore the great mound of Wurka.
These remains had already been partly examined, as I have stated, by Mr.
Loftus. A highly interesting collection of relics, comprising inscribed
clay tablets, glazed pottery, ornaments in metal, and engraved gems, had
been obtained by that gentleman during his short residence among the
ruins. They are now in the British Museum. Amongst them, and deserving
particular notice, are the fragments of a shell, on which are engraved the
heads of two horses, apparently part of a subject representing a warrior
in his chariot. The outline upon them is not without spirit, but they are
principally remarkable for being almost identical with a similar engraved
shell found in an Etruscan tomb, and now in the British Museum. This is
not the only instance, as it has been seen, of relics from Assyria and
Etruria being of the same character,--showing a close connection between
the two countries either direct, or by mutual intercourse with some
intermediate nation.
Unfortunately the state of the country to the south of the marshes was
such that I was unable even to make an attempt to reach the remarkable
ruins of Wurka. The great Arab tribe of Montefik, dwelling on the banks of
the lower Euphrates, and exercising a certain control over all the smaller
tribes inhabiting the southern part of Mesopotamia, was split into
opposite factions on account of the rival pretensions of two chiefs. Much
blood had already been spilt, and the war was now extending to the Afaij.
The surrounding tribes taking advantage of the general confusion and of
the unsuccessful attempt of the Pasha to subdue the Maidan Arabs, had
openly rebelled against the government, and were laying waste the province
and plundering each other. It was, indeed, scarcely possible even to leave
the Afaij territory, and Agab, who, like all other Arab Sheikhs, was not
without his rival, began to fear an outbreak amongst his own people. He
had already been summoned to take part in the war between the two Montefik
chiefs, and he was anxious that I should be on safe ground before his
troubles commenced. He, therefore, seriously urged me to return to
Baghdad.
The Sheikh, with other chiefs of his tribe, was accustomed to pass the
evening in my tent. He would on those occasions describe the unsettled and
dangerous state of the country, and lament the insecurity caused by the
misrule of the Turkish authorities.
At the same time he would entertain me with accounts of the districts to
the south of the Afaij, their productions, and the manners of the curious
populations inhabiting those vast marshes.
The greater part of the country below ancient Babylon has now been for
centuries one great swamp. It is, indeed, what the prophet foretold it
should be, "a desert of the sea."[231] The embankments of the rivers,
utterly neglected, have broken away, and the waters have spread over the
face of the land. The best known of these marshes are the Lemlud, formed
by the Euphrates above its confluence with the Tigris at Korna. But they
now only form a part of those which are yearly increasing, and threaten to
cover the whole of southern Mesopotamia.
The Arab tribes inhabiting them are, as I have already observed, amongst
the most wild and ignorant that can be found in this part of Asia. The
relations between them and the Porte have generally consisted of little
more than a trial of treachery and deceit; and, whilst the Turk looks upon
these Arabs as mere wild beasts, they in return have lost all confidence
in the faith and honor of the Ottoman government. But it is not so with
respect to the English, who have always treated them honorably and kindly,
and whom consequently they have allowed to pass to and fro without harm.
This respect for the British name is mainly to be attributed to the
admirable conduct and management of Captain Jones during the time he has
commanded the steamer on the Tigris.
These Arabs are of the Sheeah sect of Mussulmans, and belong to the great
tribes of Rubbiyah and Ahl Maidan. Each tribe has innumerable
subdivisions, with distinct names and separate and independent Sheikhs.
They live in mat huts and in small black tents. Their chief wealth
consists in vast herds of buffaloes, and they are, on the whole,
notwithstanding the wretched appearance of their dwellings and the scanty
clothing of both men and women, richer than most Arab tribes. This is to
be attributed to their having hitherto been able, in their almost
inaccessible retreats, to defy the Turkish authorities.
Their buffaloes supply them with large quantities of butter and milk; the
former is exported, and is a considerable article of trade. These hideous
animals appear to thrive in the marshy lands, and some districts actually
swarm with them. They are generally inoffensive and easily managed.
These tribes have also flocks of sheep and goats, but the animals are
small, and their wool thin, and generally too coarse to form an article of
commerce. They raise very little corn and barley; rice, of an inferior
quality, forms their principal food.
The marshes and the jungles near the rivers are the retreats of many kinds
of wild animals. Lions abound. I have seen them frequently, and during the
excavations at Niffer we found fresh traces of their footsteps almost
daily amongst the ruins. The Maidan Arabs boast of capturing them in the
following manner, and trustworthy persons have assured me that they have
seen the feat performed. A man, having bound his right arm with strips of
tamarisk, and holding in his hand a strong piece of the same wood, about a
foot or more in length, hardened in the fire and sharpened at both ends,
will advance boldly into the animal's lair. When the lion springs upon
him, he forces the wood into the animal's extended jaws, which will then
be held open whilst he can dispatch the astonished beast at his leisure
with the pistol that he holds in his left hand.
In the jungles are also found leopards, lynxes, wild cats, wolves, hyenas,
jackals, deer, porcupines, boars in vast numbers, and other animals. Wild
fowl, cranes, and bustards abound, and that beautiful game-bird the
francolin, or black partridge, swarms in the low brushwood. The Arabs
shoot them with ball. The marshes are full of fish, which attain a
considerable size. They are chiefly, I believe, a kind of barbel. Their
flesh is coarse and full of bones, but they afford the Arabs a constant
supply of food. They are generally taken by the spear.
Although the inhabitants of the marshes recognise some of the laws of the
Bedouins, they are wanting in many of the virtues of the Arabs of the
Desert. They have, however, several customs relating to the duties of
hospitality, which are rigidly adhered to. To say of a Maidan "that he has
sold bread," is to offer him the greatest of insults. To part with a loaf
for money is accounted an act bringing disgrace not only upon the
perpetrator, but upon his whole family. I found this peculiar custom
exceedingly inconvenient during my residence amongst the Afaij. Sheikh
Agab insisted upon giving daily to my large party their supplies of bread;
and it was impossible to obtain it in any other manner. Even its sale in
the public market was forbidden. I was, at length, compelled to send to a
considerable distance for flour, and then to employ my own workmen in
baking it. The same scruples do not exist with regard to other articles of
food. They are sold in the bazar, as in all Eastern towns.
In the souk or bazar, of the Afaij tribe, were exposed for sale a few
common Manchester prints--those world-wide evidences of the extent of
British trade--English stuffs (printed and dyed at Baghdad called
tangebs), keffiehs, Damascus silks, striped abas, dates, rice, coffee,
spices, powder and arms, the usual stores of an Eastern market. A few
Christian jewellers fashion gold and silver ornaments for the women, and
an occasional pedlar from Hillah or Baghdad excites the admiration of the
Arabs by the display of a stock of coarse knives, and common European
hardware.
The dampness of the soil upon which my tent was pitched, and the
unwholesome air of the surrounding marshes, brought on a severe attack of
pleurisy and fever. I was soon unable to move from my bed, and was reduced
at length to a state of extreme weakness. Fortunately it occurred to me to
use a blistering fluid given to me for an injured horse, or I should
probably not again have left the Afaij swamps. Notwithstanding the
severity of the remedy it gave me immediate relief, and when Hormuzd
joined me on the 28th of January, I resolved to make an attempt, without
further delay, to reach Baghdad, where I could obtain medical aid. To add
to our misfortunes, the rain fell in unceasing torrents for four days, and
of course soon made its way through our tents. The waters of the marsh
began to rise perceptibly, and the Afaij were preparing to abandon their
mat huts, and to seek, in their light tiradas, a safer retreat.
Some days elapsed, however, before I could rise from my carpet. The state
of affairs was daily getting worse. Abde Pasha had been suddenly deprived
of his government by the Porte on account of the failure of his expedition
against the Kazail Arabs, and his fall had increased the general anarchy.
It was only by joining a large party of horsemen on their way to the seat
of war in the south that Hormuzd had been able to reach Niffer. I found
that it was quite impossible to penetrate further into Mesopotamia, and
that by remaining much longer amongst the Afaij we ran the risk of being
cut off from Baghdad altogether. I determined, therefore, to strike once
more into the Desert, where we were less likely to meet with hostile Arabs
than in the beaten tracks, and to make a forced march to some village in
the neighbourhood of Hillah.
Fortunately I had my own riding horse with me, and his easy paces enabled
me to undertake the journey although in a state of complete exhaustion. On
the 2d of February, I took leave of Agab, and pitched my tents for the
night beneath the mounds of Niffer. Before dawn on the following morning
we were urging our horses over the desert plains of the centre of
Mesopotamia. Two armed adherents of the Sheikh were with us, rather to act
as guides than to protect us from enemies. We travelled without any cause
for alarm as far as the great ruin of Zibbliyah. A large body of horsemen
then suddenly appeared in the distance. We ascended the mound, and
prepared to defend ourselves from this elevated position. But either the
Arabs did not perceive us, or were bent upon some warlike expedition which
did not admit of delay, for they passed onwards, and left us to continue
our journey.
Zibbliyah closely resembles the celebrated ruin of Akkerkuf near Baghdad.
It rises from a heap of rubbish in the centre of the Desert, and consists
of a solid mass of large, crumbling, sundried bricks, between the courses
of which, at certain intervals, are layers of reeds as in many of the
Babylonian buildings.
We saw no human habitation until long after nightfall, when we reached the
small Arab hamlet of Bashayi. It was surrounded, for defence, by a low mud
wall, and some time was spent in a parley and explanation before the timid
inhabitants would open their gates to so large a company of strangers. I
could hardly remain in my saddle until their fears were set at rest, and
we were admitted within the inclosure. At length I tottered into a hovel,
thick with smoke, and sank down exhausted, after a ride of fourteen hours
and a fortnight's complete abstinence from food.
My poor Jebour workmen being on foot had been unable to keep up with the
caravan during our forced march. They did not reach the village until
daybreak, and then in a very sorry plight, for they were stript to the
skin. They had approached, in search of water, the tents of some Arabs,
and falling in with a plundering party had been robbed of every thing, and
left naked in the Desert.
Next morning I had scarcely strength to mount my horse. Hormuzd turned off
to Hillah to put a stop to the excavations at Babylon. With the caravan I
made another forced march in the beaten track to Baghdad, and reached the
khan of Iskanderiyah.
We were now within a few hours of the end of our journey, and leaving the
servants and baggage to follow at leisure, I quitted the khan with the
Bairakdar before dawn to canter into Baghdad. As the sun rose from the
sea-like plain, the great ruin of Ctesiphon appeared above the eastern
horizon.
This ruin, with a few mounds and heaps of rubbish scattered around it, is
all that now remains of the capital of the Parthian empire. On the
opposite bank of the Tigris long lines of earthen ramparts, forming a
quadrangle and inclosing the usual signs of former habitations, mark the
site of the city built by Seleucus after the last fall of Babylon.
The victorious Arabs, under Saad, the general of the Caliph Omar, pillaged
Ctesiphon after they had overthrown the Persian armies in the decisive
battle of Cadesia, in the sixteenth year of the Hegira. They found in the
palace the throne, the crown, and the standard of the Persian kings,
together with a carpet which covered the floor of the great hall, and was
of such extraordinary beauty and value that it excited the wonder of the
conquerors, and was considered amongst the most precious spoil taken from
their enemies.
Ctesiphon and Seleucia received from the Arabs the name of Al Madain, or
the twin cities. When Baghdad was founded on the Tigris, a few miles above
them, the Caliph Al Mansour wished to pull down the palace of Chosroes for
materials to build his own capital. His vizir, who had recently turned
from the Magian religion, endeavored to dissuade him. The caliph upbraided
him for being but an insincere convert to Islam, and for sympathising with
those who still professed his former faith, and whose monuments he
therefore wished to preserve. The attempt to destroy the vast edifice was
fruitless; but when it was about to be abandoned, the vizir urged his
master to persevere, exclaiming, "that if he now ceased to pull down the
palace, history would say that Al Mansour with all his power was unable to
overthrow that which another prince had built."
I did not visit Ctesiphon on this occasion; the river separated me from
the ruins, and I only mention them in this place to describe a remarkable
effect of mirage which I witnessed as I rode towards Baghdad. As the
quivering sun rose in unclouded splendor, the palace was transformed into
a vast arcade of enormous arches resting upon columns and masses of
masonry. Gradually this arcade was, as it were, compressed like the slides
of a telescope, but the building gained in height what it lost in length,
and one arch slowly appeared above the other, until the ruin assumed the
shape of a tower reaching to the sky, and pierced from the base to the
summit by innumerable arches. In a few minutes this strange edifice began
to melt away into the air, and I saw a magnified, though perfect image of
the palace; but upon it was its exact counterpart upside down. Other
equally singular changes succeeded until the sun was high in the heavens,
and the ruin at length disappeared in the distance. The small bushes of
camel-thorn scattered over the Desert were during this time turned into
forest trees, and a transparent lake imaged for a fleeting hour in its
counterfeit waters the varying forms of the unsubstantial edifice.
Although I have seen many extraordinary effects of mirage during my
wanderings in the East, I scarcely remember to have witnessed one more
striking or more beautiful than that near the ruins of Ctesiphon.
I had just strength left me to reach the gates of Baghdad. Once in the
city, under the friendly care of Dr. Hyslop, I soon recovered my health,
and was ready to start on fresh adventures.