_THROUGH THE DESERT TO PALMYRA_
(1870)
Who is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her
beloved?
_The Song of Solomon._
The oracles are dumb;
No voice or hideous hum
Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving.
MILTON.
Richard had wished ever since he came to Damascus to visit Palmyra,
or Tadmor, in the wilderness. It is about one hundred and fifty miles
distant in the open desert. His main reason for going there was his
private wish to explore, but it was also his official duty to open
up the country, now infested with hordes of wild Bedawin tribes, who
attacked, robbed, and killed right and left. Several Englishmen had
been to Palmyra, but always with a large escort of the tribe of El
Mezráb, and Richard wanted to break through the system which this
tribe had of practically levying blackmail upon travellers, which
often meant as much as six thousand francs, as each man in the escort
costs about £2 a head. We decided therefore to go without any Bedawin
escort, to show that it could be done, and thus to throw open this
most interesting part of Syria to travellers. At first a lot of people
wanted to join us in the expedition; but when it came to the point they
gradually sneaked away, and many of them wept and wished us good-bye,
and thought it madness. Indeed, so much was said that I set out with
more than a suspicion that we were marching to our deaths. But Richard
wished it, and that was enough for me. He never permitted any obstacle
to hinder his progress. He made up his mind to travel without the tribe
of El Mezráb, and he gave me the option of going with him, and I said,
as I always said, “I will follow you to the death.” It was rather funny
to find the excuses which people made for not going with us. One had
business in Beyrout, another was ill, the third had married, and so on.
So when the day of departure dawned (April 1; I had been in Damascus
three months) our faithful friends dwindled down to two--the Russian
Consul, and a French traveller, the Vicomte de Perrochel.
On the morning of our departure we had a very lively breakfast. As
I have said, it was our custom to let our friends drop in for this
meal, and on this occasion we found ourselves surrounded by every kind
of Eastern figure. They evidently thought us mad--especially me. My
dress was very picturesque, and I was vain enough to turn myself round
and round, at their request, that they might view it, which they did
with cries of admiration. It consisted of large yellow button boots
and gaiters, an English riding-habit with the long ends of the skirt
tucked in to look like their Eastern baggy trousers, an Eastern belt
with revolver, dagger, and cartridges. My hair was all tucked up under
the _tarbash_, and I wore one of the Bedawin veils to the waist,
only showing a bit of face. The veil was of all colours, chiefly gold
braid, bound by a chocolate and gold circlet near the forehead. Richard
slung over my back and round my neck a whistle and compass, in case of
my being lost. I had brought out two first-rate horses, both stallions,
one half-bred, the other three-quarters; they were called Salim and
Harpash. An Arab was to ride one, and lead the second when I was riding
something else. The first stallion would be good for travelling and
fighting, and the second for bolting, if needful. I knew I had to ride
erect half a day at a stretch, which meant about fifteen or twenty
miles.
We set forth with great pomp and ceremony; for the Mushir, or
Commander-in-chief, and a large cavalcade saw us out of the city, and
exchanged affectionate farewells outside the gates, evidently not
expecting to see us again. This being the first day, we made only a
three hours’ march; it cleared us of Damascus and its environs, and
we camped early on the edge of the desert. I cannot convey to you the
charm of a Syrian camp. I shall never forget my first night in the
desert. The horses were all picketed about; the men were lying here and
there in the silvery moonlight, which lit up our tripod and kettle;
and the jackals howled and capered as they sniffed the savoury bones.
People talk of danger when surrounded by jackals, but I have always
found them most cowardly; they would run away if a pocket-handkerchief
were shaken at them. It was the prettiest thing to see them gambolling
about in the moonlight; but after we had turned in a strange effect
was produced when a jackal, smelling the cookery, ran up round the
tent, for the shadow on the white canvas looked as large as a figure
exaggerated in a magic lantern. During my first night under canvas
I was awakened by hearing a pack coming--a wild, unearthly sound. I
thought it was a raid of the Bedawin rushing down upon us, and that
this was the war-cry; but the weird yell swept down upon us, passed,
and died away in the distance. I grew to love the sound.
The next morning the camp began stirring at dawn. It was bitterly
cold. We boiled water and made some tea. We hurried our dressing, saw
the animals fed and watered, tents struck, things packed up, and the
baggage animals loaded and sent on ahead with orders to await us at
Jayrúd. We always found it better to see our camp off ahead of us,
otherwise the men loitered and did not reach the night-halt in time.
We started a little later. The way to Jayrúd was across a sandy plain,
with patches of houses here and there, and a village at long intervals.
A village on the outskirts of the desert means twenty or thirty huts
of stones and mud, each shaped like a box, and exactly the same colour
as the ground. We breakfasted in a ruined mosque. After that we
started again, and came to a vast plain of white sand and rock, which
lasted until we reached Jayrúd. It was about fifteen hours’ ride from
Damascus. A little way outside Jayrúd we were caught in a sand-storm,
which I shall never forget. Richard and I were both well mounted.
When it came on, he made a sign in which direction I was to go. There
was no time to speak, and we both galloped into the storm as hard as
we could pelt. The sand and wind blinded me, and I had no idea where I
was going. Once I did not see that I was riding straight at a deep pit;
and though Arab horses seldom or never leap, mine cleared it with one
bound. After that I was wiser, and I threw the reins on Salim’s neck,
for his eyes were better than mine. This continued for three hours, and
at last we reached Jayrúd, where we had arranged to halt for the night.
Jayrúd is a large clean village in the middle of the salt and sandy
plain. We stopped for the night with Da’as Agha, who was a border
chieftain, and a somewhat wild and dangerous character, though Richard
knew how to tame him. His house was large and roomy, with spacious
walls and high-raftered ceilings. While we were at supper crowds of
villagers collected to see us, and the courtyard and the house were
filled with and surrounded by all sorts of guests from different
Bedawin tribes. Camels were lying about, baggage was piled here and
there, and horses were picketed in all directions; it was a thoroughly
oriental picture.
An unpleasant incident happened. I had engaged a confidential man as
a head servant and interpreter. He was an Arab, but he spoke French.
He was an exceedingly clever, skilful man, and Richard told him off
to wait on me during the journey, and to ride after me when needful.
When we got to Jayrúd, as soon as I dismounted, I took Richard’s horse
and my own and walked them up and down to cool. As soon as my man and
another came up I gave them the reins, saying, “After our hard ride
in the sand-storm take as much care of the horses as though they were
children.” He answered, “Be rested, Sitti”; but an unpleasant smile
came across his face, which might have warned me. I ought to have
mentioned that three times since we had set out from Damascus he had
ridden short across me when we were at full gallop. The first time I
begged him not to do so, as it was very dangerous, and the second time
I threatened him, and the third time I broke my hunting-whip across
his face. He merely said, “All is finished,” and hung back. However,
I did not think anything more of it, and I went in and had my supper.
While we were eating, and my back was turned, he threw the reins of my
horse to a bystander, and, drawing a sword, he cut the throat of the
good, useful, little horse which I had hired for him, and which he had
been riding all day. I saw people running, and heard a certain amount
of confusion while I was eating; but being very tired and hungry, I
did not look round. Presently somebody let it out. I rose in a rage,
determined to dismiss the man at once; but Richard checked me with
a word, and pointed out the unwisdom of making him an open enemy,
and desired me to put a good face on the matter till the end of the
journey. The explanation of the little beast’s conduct was this. He
had really wanted to ride a thorough-bred horse, but it was ridden
instead by my dragoman’s brother, and his rage had been uncontrollable
when he saw the coveted animal caracolling before him. Moreover, he
had a spite against me, and he thought that if he killed his own horse
I should give him a better one, by some process of oriental reasoning
which I do not pretend to understand. However, he was mistaken, for I
mounted him after that on the vilest old screw in the camp.
Next morning we woke early. Mules, donkeys, camels, horses, and mares
were screaming and kicking, and the men running about cursing and
swearing. In such a Babel it was impossible to feel drowsy. I felt very
faint as we set out from Jayrúd. The salt marshes in the distance were
white and glistening, and the heat spread over them in a white mist
which looked like a mirage bearing fantastic ships. We breakfasted at
the next village, Atneh, in a harím, the women having all gone out. It
was the house of a bride, and she had hung all her new garments round
the walls, as we display our wedding presents _pour encourager les
autres_. When the women came back, the men retired from the harím.
Atneh was the last settlement, the last water, the last human abode
between Jayrúd and Karyatayn--a long distance. After this we had a
lengthy desert ride in wind and rain, sleet and hail, and the ground
was full of holes; but it was a splendid ride all the same. The Arabs,
in their gaudy jackets, white trousers, and gold turbans, galloped
about furiously, brandishing and throwing their lances, and playing the
usual tricks of horsemanship--_jeríd_. We met a terrible storm of
thunder and lightning, and between-whiles the fiery sun sent down his
beams upon a parched plain. The desert ground was alternately flint,
limestone, and smooth gravel; not a tree or shrub, not a human being or
animal, was to be seen. The colours were yellow sand and blue sky, blue
sky and yellow sand, yellow and blue for ever.
We arrived at dusk at the spot where we had told our advance guard
to pitch the tents. We found everything ready, and after our horses
were cared for we dined. That night for the first time we slept in our
clothes, with revolvers and guns by our sides. The men took turns to
keep watch, so that we might not be surprised by a Ghazu, a tribe of
six or seven hundred Bedawin, who go out for marauding purposes. The
Ghazis charge furiously, with their lances couched. If you have the
pluck to stand still until they are within an inch of your nose, and
ask what they want, they drop their lances; for they respect courage,
but there is no mercy if you show the white feather. We meant to say to
them, “We are the English and Russian Consuls travelling on business.
If you touch us, there will be consequences; if you want a present, you
shall have it; but you are not to shame us by taking our horses and
arms, and if you insist we will fight.” There was a driving wind that
night, and I feared the exposure and hardship if the tents were blown
down and the fire blown out, as it threatened. We could scarcely keep a
lamp or candle alight. No Ghazis came.
We rose next morning in the cold, dark, misty, and freezing dawn. We
had some difficulty in starting our camp; the horses were shivering,
and the muleteers and camel-men objected. We had a long and lonely
ride through the same desolate valley plain as yesterday, banked on
either side in the distance by naked, barren mountains, and we were
very thankful when the sun came out. We breakfasted at a ruined khan,
and changed our horses. Then we rode on and on, seemingly for an age,
with no change; not a bird nor a tree nor a sound save the clattering
of our horses’ hoofs. At length, when within an hour of Karyatayn, we
got a little excitement. On slightly rising ground about five miles off
we espied, by the aid of field-glasses, something which we discovered
to be a large party of mounted Bedawin. We sounded our whistles,
and our stragglers came in till we all were collected. I ought to
mention here that from the time of our leaving Damascus stragglers
had joined us continually from every village. Naturally the number of
our camp-followers became great, until we assumed a most formidable
appearance, numbering nearly eighty in all. As soon as our stragglers
reached us we formed a line, and the opposite party did the same. They
then galloped to meet us, and we did likewise. When within a quarter
of a mile of each other we pulled up, and they pulled up. We fully
expected a charge and a skirmish, so we halted in a line and consulted;
they did the same. Three of us then rode out to meet them; three
horsemen of their line then did likewise. They hailed us, and asked
us who we were and what we wanted. We told them we were the English
and Russian Consuls passing to Palmyra, and asked in our turn who they
were. They replied that they were the representatives of the Shaykh
of Karyatayn, and his fighting men, and that they bore invitations to
us. They then jumped down from their horses and kissed my hand. We
were greeted on all sides, and escorted in triumph to the village; the
men riding _jeríd_--that is, firing from horseback at full speed,
hanging over by one stirrup with the bridle in their mouths, quivering
their long lances in the air, throwing and catching them again at
full gallop, yelling and shouting their war-cries. It was a wild and
picturesque scene. So we entered Karyatayn, went to the house of the
Shaykh, and dispatched a note to him.
His dwelling was a big mud house, with a large reception-room, where
we found a big fire. There was a separate house for the harím, which
appeared numerous, and I was to sleep there in a room to myself. Before
dinner, while we were enjoying the fire and sitting round the rug, a
fat young Turkish officer entered with an insolent look. Thinking he
had come with a message from Omar Beg, a Hungarian brigadier-general
in the Turkish service who was stationed here, we saluted in the usual
manner. Without returning it, he walked up, stepped across us, flung
himself on our rug, leaned on his elbow, and with an impertinent
leer stared in our faces all round until he met Richard’s eye, which
partook of something of the tiger kind, when he started and turned
pale. Richard called out, “Kawwasses!” The kawwasses and two wardis ran
into the room. “Remove that son of a dog.” They seized him, fat and
big as he was, as if he had been a rabbit; and although he kicked and
screamed lustily, carried him out of the house. I saw them give him
some vicious bumps against the walls as they went out of the door into
the village, where they dropped him into the first pool of mud, which
represented the village horse-pond. By-and-by Omar Beg came down to
dine with us. We all sat round on the ground and ate of several dishes,
chiefly a kid stuffed with rice and _pistachios_. After dinner we
reported to Omar Beg the conduct of his _sous-officier_, and he
said that we had done very well, and he was glad of the opportunity of
making an example of him, for he was a bad lot; and a Turkish soldier
when he is bad is bad indeed. He had committed a gross insult against
us, and it is always best in the East to resent an insult at once.
Our next day was a pleasant, lazy day, during which we inspected
Karyatayn at our leisure. We rested, read, and wrote, and made a few
extra preparations for the march. I went to call on the wife of Omar
Beg, who was the daughter of the well-known German _savant_ Herr
Mordtmann. She was living with her husband quite contentedly in this
desolate place, in a mud hut, and her only companions were a hyena and
a lynx, which slept on her bed. The hyena greeted me at the gate; and
though I was not prepared for it, I innocently did the right thing. It
came and sniffed at my hands, and then jumped up and put its paws on
my shoulder and smelt my face. “Oh,” I thought, “if it takes a bit out
of my cheek, what shall I do?” But I stood as still as a statue, and
tried not to breathe, looking steadily in its eyes all the while. At
last it made up its mind to be friendly, jumped down, and ran before
me into the house. Here I found the lynx on the divan, which sprang
at me, mewed, and lashed its tail till Madame Omar came. She was a
charming German lady; but her husband kept her secluded in the harím
like a Moslem woman. She told me I had done quite the right thing with
the hyena. If people began to scream, it took a pleasure in frightening
them. I found this out a little later, for it got into Richard’s room,
and I found him, the Russian Consul, and the Vicomte de Perrochel all
sitting on the divan with their legs well tucked under them, clutching
their sticks, and looking absurdly uncomfortable at the _affreuse
bête_, as the Vicomte called it.
I had had a tiring day, and was glad to go to the harím that night and
turn into my little room. But, alas! no sooner had I got in there than
about fifty women came to pay me a visit. By way of being gracious, I
had given a pair of earrings to the head wife of the Shaykh, and that
caused the most awful jealousy and quarrelling among them. I was dying
to go to bed, but they went on nagging at one another, until at last
a man, a husband or a brother, came of his own accord to tell them to
take leave, and upon their refusing he drove them all out of the room
like a flock of sheep. Fortunately I had a bolt to my door, so that I
was able to shut them out. My sleep, however, was very much disturbed,
for they kept on trying the doors and the shutters nearly all night.
They have an intense curiosity concerning European women, and during my
toilet next morning I could see fifty pairs of eyes at fifty chinks in
the windows and doors. It was really very embarrassing, because I could
not tell the sex of the eyes, though I imagined that they belonged to
my visitors of the night before. Dressing as I did _en Amazone_
seemed to afford them infinite glee; and when I arrived at the cloth
nether garments of my riding-habit, they went into shrieks of laughter.
However, I put a bold face on it, and sallied forth to the square of
the village, where I found the rest of our party. Our horses were being
led up and down by the soldiers; our camels with water in goats’ skins,
and our baggage beasts, our camp-followers, and our free-lances, were
drawn up on one side. Omar Beg accompanied us out of the village with a
troop of cavalry, and started us with forty dromedaries, each carrying
two soldiers. The cavalcade looked very fine, and when Omar Beg took
his leave of us we were about one hundred and sixty strong.
We had a long day’s march through the desert. It was very hot. We went
through a wild defile, rested, and climbed up a mountain. We then
returned to the plains, and in the afternoon we saw a mirage--castles
and green fields. We were late in finding our tents, and very tired.
Again we did not undress, but slept with our weapons by our sides.
The next morning we set out again at 6.30. We rode towards a mountain
in the distance, and defiled by a picturesque and dangerous ledge
amongst craggy peaks. We had heard that the Bedawin knew of a well
hereabouts, and we determined to find it. We discovered it, and so
abolished the worst difficulty which travellers had to undergo in
visiting Palmyra. We rested by the well, which was full of the purest
water. When sitting by it, we heard guns echoing like thunder in the
mountains. We thought it might mean a Bedawin attack; but probably it
was a signal, and they found us too strong. They were on our track the
whole time. After an hour we descended once more into the arid plain,
and rode on and on. At last we descried dimly the khan which was to
be our night halt. It seemed quite close, but the nearer we rode the
farther it seemed. We reached it at last, a fine old pile, deserted and
solitary, which looked splendid in the sunset. Our camp by moonlight
will ever live in my memory: the black tents, the animals picketed, the
camels resting, the Turkish soldiery seated around, and the wild men
and muleteers singing and dancing.
On this night, as on all nights, I had always plenty to do. It was
Richard’s business to take the notes and sketches, observations and
maps, and to gather all the information. I acted as his secretary
and _aide-de-camp_. My other business was to take care of the
stable, see that the horses were properly groomed, and look after any
sick or wounded men. My duties varied according to the place in which
we halted for the night. If it were near an inhabited place, Richard
sat in state on his divan, and received the chiefs with narghílehs
and sherbet. I saluted, and walked off with the horses, and saw that
they were properly groomed and fed. Sometimes I groomed my own horse
and Richard’s too, if I did not feel sure that they would be properly
attended to. I would then go back to my husband, sit on the divan at
a respectful distance and in a respectful attitude, speak if spoken
to, and accept, if invited, a little sherbet or a narghíleh. I then
saluted, went again to see that the horses were properly picketed for
the night, prepared my husband’s supper, and returned to his tent for
supper and bed; and the next day the same over again. So far as I could
I made myself useful, and adapted myself to my surroundings as an
Eastern woman would have done.
The next day, our eighth from leaving Damascus, we went out of camp at
6.30, and rode over the hot stony desert for five hours. Suddenly we
descried a small lake, but about one hundred and fifty Bedawin were
there before us. At first we thought it was a Ghazu; but we found
afterwards that it was only a party of one hundred and fifty watering
their animals; they could not attack us until they had time to collect
their men, and mustered some six hundred strong. However, they looked
“nasty”; and as our stragglers were all over the place, to attract
their attention, and bring us together, I asked Richard’s leave to make
a display of _tir_. We put an orange on a lance-point seventy
yards off. I had the first shot. By good luck I hit it, and by better
luck still they did not ask for a second, which I might have missed, so
that I came off with a great reputation. Everybody fired in turns, and
all our people came up by degrees, until we mustered enough to fight
any Ghazu, if necessary. We then formed into a single line, and rode
until the remainder of the day. We approached Palmyra thus, cheering
and singing war-songs; and I am sure that we must have looked very
imposing.
The first sight of Palmyra is like a regiment of cavalry drawn up in
single line; but as we got nearer gradually the ruins began to stand
out one by one in the sunlight, and a grander sight I have never looked
upon, so gigantic, so extensive, so desolate was this splendid city of
the dead rising out of, and half buried in, a sea of sand. One felt as
if one were wandering in some forgotten world.
The Shaykh of Palmyra and his people came out to greet us, and he
conducted us to his house. We approached it over the massive blocks
of stone that formed the pavement and by a flight of broad steps.
The interior of Palmyra resembles a group of wasps’ nests on a large
scale, clinging to the gigantic walls of a ruined temple. The people
were hideous, poor, ragged, dirty, and diseased, nearly every one of
them afflicted with ophthalmia. What have the descendants of the great
Zenobia done to come to this? We dined at the Shaykh’s house, and had
our coffee and pipes. Later we returned to our camp, which consisted of
our five tents and ten for the eighty soldiers. It was picturesquely
placed, close to the east of the grand colonnade of Palmyra, for the
sake of being near the wells, and the animals were picketed as much as
possible in the shelter, for during our sojourn there we suffered from
ice and snow, sirocco, burning heat, and furious sou’westers. We had
two sulphurous wells, one to bathe in, and the other to drink out of.
Everybody felt a little tired, and we went to bed early. It was the
first night for eight days that we had really undressed and bathed and
slept, and it was such a refreshment that I did not wake for twelve
hours. My journal of the following morning contains a very short
notice. We were considerably refreshed, and attended to our horses
and several camp wants. We lounged about till breakfast and wrote our
diaries. It was scorchingly hot weather. We were here for five days, so
we did not begin serious work until noon.
So many travellers have described Palmyra that it is not necessary for
me to describe it again, and I suppose that everybody knows that at one
time it was ruled over in the days of its splendour by Zenobia, a great
queen of the East. She was an extraordinary woman, full of wisdom and
heroic courage. She was conquered by the Romans after a splendid reign,
and the Emperor Aurelian caused her to be led through Rome bound in
fetters of gold. The city must once have been magnificent, but it was
now a ruin. The chief temple was that of the Sun. The whole city was
full of columns and ruined colonnades. One of the great colonnades is a
mile long.
I saw something of the inner life of Palmyra, the more so because I
wore a dress very much like that of a man. So attired I could go almost
where I liked, and enter all the places which women are not deemed
worthy to see. My chief difficulty was that my toilet always had to be
performed in the dead of night. The others never appeared to make any,
except in the stream, which was too public for me, and I did not wish
to appear singular.
In another way my masculine garment had its drawbacks, for I always
used to forget that they regarded me as a boy, and I never could
remember not to go into the haríms. Once or twice I went into them,
and the women ran away to hide themselves screaming and laughing at
my appearance; and I remember once or twice, on being remonstrated
with, pointing to my chin to plead my youth, and also my ignorance of
their customs. I passed at Palmyra as Richard’s son; and though it was
a little awkward at first, I soon fell into my part, and remembered
always to be very respectful to my father, and very silent before him
and the elders. Often in my character of boy I used to run and hold
Richard’s stirrup as he alighted from his horse, and sat on the edge of
the divan while he talked to the Shaykhs of Palmyra. I always tried to
adapt myself as far as possible to the customs of the country where I
found myself, and I think I may say without flattery that I had a good
many capabilities for being a traveller’s wife. I could ride, walk,
swim, shoot, and defend myself if attacked, so that I was not dependent
on my husband; and I could also make myself generally useful--that
is to say, I could make the bed, arrange the tent, cook the dinner,
if necessary wash the clothes by the river-side, and mend them and
spread them to dry, nurse the sick, bind and dress wounds, pick up a
smattering of the language, make the camp of natives respect and obey
me, groom my own horse, saddle him, learn to wade him through the
rivers, sleep on the ground with the saddle for a pillow, and generally
to rough it and do without comforts.
We spent five days at Palmyra. The first was devoted to a general
inspection of the place. The second, we visited the Temple of the Sun
and the Towers of the Tombs. These latter are tall square towers,
four storeys in height; and each tower contains apertures for bodies
like a honeycomb. I noticed that all the carving was of the rudest and
coarsest kind. There was no trace of civilization anywhere, no theatre,
no forum, nothing but a barbarous idea of splendour, worked out on a
colossal scale in columns and temples. The most interesting thing was
the Tombs. These were characteristic of Palmyra, and lined the wild
mountain-defile entrance to the city, and were dotted about on the
mountain-sides. It was a City of Tombs, a City of the Dead. I was much
struck too with the dirtiness of the people of Palmyra, which dirtiness
results in pestilence, ophthalmia, and plagues of flies.
The third day two officers, the Shaykh of Palmyra and another, dined
with us in our tents, and after dinner we strolled about the ruins
by moonlight, and when we were tired we sat down in a large ring on
the sand, and the soldiers and muleteers danced a sword-dance with
wild cries to musical accompaniments and weird songs. I shall never
forget the exceeding beauty of the ruins of Palmyra by moonlight.
The following day we explored the caves, and found human bones and
things, which I helped Richard to sort, much to the disgust of the
Vicomte de Perrochel, who was shocked at my want of sensibility, and
said that a Frenchwoman would certainly have had hysteria. We also
explored the ruins, and wrote descriptions of our journey to Palmyra.
We had all retired to rest, when I was aroused by hearing a roaring
like that of a camel. I ran out of my tent to see what was the matter;
and being guided by a noise to the servants’ quarters, I found the
kitchen assistant in convulsions, and the rest holding him down. It
was a Syrian disease, a sort of epilepsy. They all wanted to tread on
his back, but I would not let them do it. I got some hot brandy and
restoratives, and gave him a good dosing between his clenched teeth.
The result was he came to in an hour and a half, sensible, but very
tipsy; but he managed to kiss my hand and thank me. The last day was
Easter Sunday. We performed our Sunday service in one of the ruined
temples, we wrote our journals, and prepared for departure on the
morrow. The next day we left Palmyra. We should have done better to
have remained there fifteen days instead of five. I wish we had taken
ropes and ladders, planks to bridge over broken staircases, and a
crowbar. We might then have thoroughly examined three places which we
could not otherwise do: the Palace of the Pretty, the Palace of the
Maiden, and the Palace of the Bride, the three best Tower Tombs.
[Illustration: ARAB CAMEL-DRIVERS.]
We left camp at dawn, and a terribly hot day it was. We encamped at
8 p.m. in a mountain defile. We were all dead-beat, and so were the
horses. At night I had fever, and a hurricane of wind and rain nearly
carried our tents away. On the second day we rode from dawn to sunset,
with the driving wind and the sand in our faces, filling eyes, ears,
nose, and mouth. I felt so cold, tired, and disheartened, that as I sat
in my saddle and rode along I cried for about two hours, and Richard
and the others laughed at me. Whilst I was crying we saw a body of
mounted Bedawin dodging about in the mountains. So I dried my eyes,
and rode on as hard as I could pelt until we reached Karyatayn at
sunset; but I had to be lifted off my horse, and could not stand for
some minutes.
All clamoured to rest one day at Karyatayn. We had already been riding
for two days hard, and were simply done up. The muleteers mutinied, and
said that their backs were broken and their beasts dead-beat. There was
only one person in the camp not tired, and that was Richard, who seemed
made of cast iron. He said, “You may all remain here, but I shall ride
on to Damascus alone, for on Friday the English and Baghdad mails
come in, and I must be at my post.” All the responsibility then fell
upon me, for they all said if I would remain they would be glad. But
the idea of Richard riding on alone through the desert infested with
Bedawin was not to be entertained by me for one moment, so I said, “On
we go.”
The next morning we left early. I tried at first to ride in the
panniers of one of the camels; but it bumped me so unmercifully that
after half an hour I begged to be let down. Camel-riding is pleasant
if it is at a long trot; but a slow walk is very tedious, and I should
think that a gallop would be annihilation. When I got down from my
camel, I mounted my horse, and galloped after the rest, and in time
got to my place behind Richard. I always rode a yard or two behind
him. In the East it would not have been considered respectful for
either wife or son to ride beside a husband. We got to Jayrúd at dark,
and we saw hovering near us a party of Bedawin, armed and mounted;
they eventually retired into the mountains. But when we got back to
Damascus, we heard that all through our journey the bandits had been
watching us, and would have attacked us, only they were afraid that our
rifles would carry too far.
The next day was the last. We started at sunrise, and rode all day,
reaching home at 8 p.m. I had not realized the beauty of Damascus until
then. After all those days in the desert it seemed a veritable garden
of Paradise. First of all we saw a belt of something dark lining the
horizon; then we entered by degrees under the trees, the orchards,
and the gardens. We smelt the water from afar like a thirsty horse;
we heard its gurgling long before we came to it; we scented and saw
the limes, citrons, and watermelons. We felt a mad desire to jump into
the water, to eat our fill of fruit, to lie down and sleep under the
delicious shade. At last we reached our door. The house seemed to me
like a palace of comfort. A warm welcome greeted us on all sides; and
as every one (except Richard) and all the horses were dead-beat, they
all stayed with us for the night.