PALGRAVE’S TRAVELS—JOURNEY TO BEREYDAH.
ANOTHER stage of our way. From Gaza to Ma’an, from Ma’an to the Djowf,
from the Djowf to Ha’yel, three such had now been gone over, not indeed
without some fatigue or discomfort, yet at comparatively little personal
risk, except what nature herself, not man, might occasion. For to cross
the stony desert of the northern frontier, or the sandy Nefood in the
very height of summer, could not be said to be entirely free from danger,
where in these waterless wastes thirst, if nothing else, may alone, and
often does, suffice to cause the disappearance of the over-venturous
traveller, nay, even of many a Bedouin, no less effectually than a
lance-thrust or a musket-ball. But if nature had been so far unkind, of
man at least we had hitherto not much to complain; the Bedouins on the
route, however rough and uncouth in their ways, had, with only one
exception, meant us fairly well, and the townsmen in general had proved
friendly and courteous beyond our expectation. Once within the
established government limits of Telal, and among his subjects, we had
enjoyed our share in the common security afforded to wayfarers and
inhabitants for life and property, while good success had hitherto
accompanied us. ‘Judge of the day by its dawn,’ say the Arabs; and
although this proverb, like all proverbs, does not always hold exactly
true, whether for sunshine or cloud, yet it has its value at times. And
thus, whatever unfavorable predictions or dark forebodings our friends
might hint regarding the inner Nedjed and its denizens, we trusted that
so favorable a past augured somewhat better things for the future.
“From physical and material difficulties like those before met with,
there was henceforward much less to fear. The great heats of summer were
past, the cooler season had set in; besides, our path now lay through the
elevated table-land of Central Arabia, whose northern rim we had already
surmounted at our entrance on the Djebel Shomer. Nor did there remain
any uncultivated or sandy track to cross comparable to the Nefood of
Djowf between Ha’yel and Ri’ad; on the contrary, we were to expect
pasture lands and culture, villages and habitations, cool mountain air,
and a sufficiency, if not an abundance, of water. Nor were our
fellow-companions now mere Bedouins and savages, but men from town or
village life, members of organized society, and so far civilized beings.
“When adieus, lookings back, wavings of the hand, and all the customary
signs of farewell and good omen were over between our Ha’yel friends and
ourselves, we pursued our road by the plain which I have already
described as having been the frequent scene of our morning walks; but
instead of following the southwesterly path toward Kefar, whose groves
and roof-tops now rose in a blended mass before us, we turned eastward,
and rounded, though at some distance, the outer wall of Ha’yel for nearly
half an hour, till we struck off by a southeasterly track across stony
ground, diversified here and there by wells, each with a cluster of
gardens and a few houses in its neighborhood. At last we reached a
narrow winding pass among the cliffs of Djebel ’Aja’, whose mid-loop
encircles Ha’yel on all sides, and here turned our heads to take a last
far-off view of what had been our home, or the agreeable semblance of a
home, for several weeks.
“Our only companions as yet were Mubarek and Dahesh. We had outstripped
the rest, whose baggage and equipments had required a more tedious
arrangement than our own. Before long they came up—a motley crew. Ten
or thereabouts of the Kaseem, some from Bereydah itself, others from
neighboring towns; two individuals, who gave themselves out, but with
more asseveration than truth, to be natives of Mecca itself; three
Bedouins, two of whom belonged to the Shomer clan, the third an ’Anezah
of the north; next a runaway negro, conducting four horses, destined to
pass the whole breadth of Arabia, and to be shipped off at Koweyt, on the
Persian Gulf, for Indian sale; two merchants, one from Zulphah, in the
province of Sedeyr, the other from Zobeyr, near Bussora; lastly, two
women, wives of I know not exactly whom in the caravan, with some small
children; all this making up, ourselves included, a band of twenty-seven
or twenty-eight persons, the most mounted on camels, a few on horseback,
and accompanied by a few beasts of burden alongside—such was our
Canterbury pilgrims’ group.
“Thus assembled, on we went together, now amid granite rocks, now
crossing grassy valleys, till near sunset we stopped under a high cliff,
at the extreme southerly verge of Djebel ’Aja’, or, in modern parlance,
of Djebel Shomer. The mountain here extended far away to right and left,
but in front a wide plain of full twenty miles across opened out before
us, till bounded southward by the long bluish chain of Djebel Solma,
whose line runs parallel to the heights we were now to leave, and belongs
to the same formation and rocky mass denominated in a comprehensive way
the mountains of Ta’i or Shomer.
“At about three in the afternoon, next day, we saw, some way off to our
west, a troop of Bedouins coming up from the direction of Medina. While
they were yet in the distance, and half-hidden from view by the shrubs
and stunted acacias of the plain, we could not precisely distinguish
their numbers; but they were evidently enough to make us desire, with
Orlando, ‘that we might be better strangers.’ On our side we mustered
about fifteen matchlocks, besides a few spears and swords. The Bedouins
had already perceived us, and continued to approach, though in the
desultory and circuitous way which they affect when doubtful of the
strength of their opponent; still they gained on us more than was
pleasant.
“Fourteen armed townsmen might stand for a reasonable match against
double the number of Bedouins, and in any case we had certainly nothing
better to do than to put a bold face on the matter. The ’Eyoon chief,
Foleyh, with two of his countrymen and Ghashee, carefully primed their
guns, and then set off at full gallop to meet the advancing enemy,
brandishing their weapons over their heads, and looking extremely fierce.
Under cover of this manœuvre the rest of our band set about getting their
arms ready, and an amusing scene ensued. One had lost his match, and was
hunting for it in his housings; another, in his haste to ram the bullet
home had it stick midway in the barrel, and could neither get it up nor
down; the lock of a third was rusty and would not do duty; the women
began to whine piteously; the two Meccans, who for economy’s sake were
both riding one only camel, a circumstance which caused between them many
international squabbles, tried to make their beast gallop off with them,
and leave the others to their fate; while the more courageous animal,
despising such cowardly measures, insisted on remaining with his
companions and sharing their lot; all was thoroughly Arab, much hubbub
and little done. Had the menacing feint of the four who protected our
rear proved insufficient, we might all have been in a very bad
predicament, and this feeling drew every face with reverted gaze in a
backward direction. But the Harb banditti, intimidated by the bold
countenance of Foleyh and his companions, wheeled about and commenced a
skirmishing retreat, in which a few shots, guiltless of bloodshed, were
fired for form’s sake on either side, till at last our assailants fairly
disappeared in the remote valley.
“Our valiant champions now returned from pursuit, much elated with their
success, and we journeyed on together, skirting the last rocky spur of
Solma, close by the spot where Hatim Ta’i, the well-known model, half
mythic and half historical, of Arab hospitality and exaggerated
generosity, is said to be buried. Here we crossed some low hills that
form a sort of offshoot to the Solma mountain, and limit the valley; and
the last rays of the setting sun gilding to our view, in a sandy bottom
some way off, the palm-trees of Feyd.
“Feyd may be taken as a tolerable sample of the villages met with
throughout Northern or Upper Kaseem, for they all bear a close likeness
in their main features, though various in size. Imagine a little sandy
hillock of about sixty or seventy feet high, in the midst of a wide and
dusty valley; part of the eminence itself and the adjoining bottom is
covered by low earth-built houses, intermixed with groups of the feathery
ithel. The grounds in the neighborhood are divided by brick walls into
green gardens, where gourds and melons, leguminous plants and maize, grow
alongside of an artificial irrigation from the wells among them; palms in
plenty—they were now heavy laden with red-brown fruits; and a few peach
or apricot trees complete the general lineaments. The outer walls are
low, and serve more for the protection of the gardens than of the
dwellings; here are neither towers nor trenches, nor even, at least in
many places, any central castle or distinguishable residence for the
chief; his habitation is of the same one-storied construction as those of
his neighbors, only a little larger. Some of the townlets are quite
recent, and date from the Shomer annexation, which gave this part of the
province a degree of quiet and prosperity unknown under their former
Wahabee rulers.
“Next morning, the 10th of September, we were all up by moonlight, two or
three hours before dawn, and off on our road to the southeast. The whole
country that we had to traverse for the next four days was of so uniform
a character that a few words of description may here serve for the
landscape of this entire stage of our journey.
“Upper Kaseem is an elevated plateau or steppe, and forms part of a long
upland belt, crossing diagonally the northern half of the peninsula; one
extremity reaches the neighborhood of Zobeyr and the Euphrates, while the
other extends downward to the vicinity of Medina. Its surface is in
general covered with grass in the spring and summer seasons, and with
shrubs and brushwood at all times, and thus affords excellent pasture for
sheep and camels. Across it blows the fresh eastern gale, so celebrated
in Arab poetry under the name of ‘Seba Nedjin,’ or ‘Zephyr of Nedjed’
(only it comes from precisely the opposite corner to the Greek or Roman
Zephyr), and continually invoked by sentimental bards to bring them news
of imaginary loves or pleasing reminiscences. No wonder; for most of
these versifiers being themselves natives of the barren Hedjaz or the
scorching Tehama, perhaps inhabitants of Egypt and Syria, and knowing
little of Arabia, except what they have seen on the dreary Meccan pilgrim
road, they naturally look back to with longing, and frequently record,
whatever glimpses chance may have allowed them of the cooler and more
fertile highlands of the centre, denominated by them Nedjed, in a general
way, with their transient experience of its fresh and invigorating
climate, of its courteous men and sprightly maidens.
“But when, nor is this seldom, the sweet smell of the aromatic thyme-like
plants that here abound mixes with the light morning breeze and enhances
its balmy influence, then indeed can one excuse the raptures of an Arab
Ovid or Theocritus, and appreciate—at least I often did—their yearnings
after Nedjed, and all the praises they lavish on its memory.
“Then said I to my companion, while the camels were hastening
To bear us down the pass between Meneefah and Demar,
‘Enjoy while thou canst the sweets of the meadows of Nedjed:
With no such meadows and sweets shalt thou meet after this
evening.
Ah! heaven’s blessing on the scented gales of Nedjed,
And its greensward and groves glittering from the spring shower,
And thy dear friends, when thy lot was cast awhile in Nedjed,
Little hadst thou to complain of what the days brought thee;
Months flew past, they passed and we perceived not,
Nor when their moons were new, nor when they waned.’”
For three days more they travelled forward over this undulating
table-land, making from sixty to seventy miles a day. The view was
extensive, but rather monotonous. There were no high mountains, no
rivers, no lakes, no deep valleys; but a constant repetition of stony
uplands, shallow and sandy hollows, and villages surrounded by belts of
palm-groves, the extent and direction of which indicated the subterranean
water-courses.
On the third evening they reached Kowarah, the most southern station in
Telal territory—a large village, lying in a wooded and well-watered
hollow. Here they still found the order and security which that ruler
had established, and maintained everywhere throughout his dominions.
Leaving the next morning, the 14th of September, they crossed a few low
hills, came to a sudden dip in the general level of the country, and then
the extent of Southern Kaseem burst suddenly upon their view.
[Picture: The village of El Suwayrkiyah]
“Now, for the first time,” says Palgrave, “we could in some measure
appreciate the strength of the Wahabee in his mastery over such a land.
Before us to the utmost horizon stretched an immense plain, studded with
towns and villages, towers and groves, all steeped in the dazzling noon,
and announcing everywhere life, opulence, and activity. The average
breadth of this populous district is about sixty miles, its length twice
as much, or more; it lies full two hundred feet below the level of the
uplands, which here break off like a wall. Fifty or more good-sized
villages and four or five large towns form the commercial and
agricultural centres of the province, and its surface is moreover thickly
strewn with smaller hamlets, isolated wells, and gardens, and traversed
by a net-work of tracks in every direction. Here begin, and hence extend
to Djebel Toweyk itself, the series of high watch-towers that afford the
inhabitants a means, denied otherwise by their level flats, of discerning
from afar the approach of foray or invasion, and thus preparing for
resistance. For while no part of Central Arabia has an older or a better
established title to civilization or wealth, no part also has been the
starting-point and theatre of so many wars, or witnessed the gathering of
such numerous armies.
“We halted for a moment on the verge of the uplands to enjoy the
magnificent prospect before us. Below lay the wide plain; at a few
miles’ distance we saw the thick palm-groves of ’Eyoon, and what little
of its towers and citadel the dense foliage permitted to the eye. Far
off on our right, that is, to the west, a large dark patch marked the
tillage and plantations which girdle the town of Rass; other villages and
hamlets, too, were thickly scattered over the landscape. All along the
ridge where we stood, and visible at various distances down the level,
rose the tall, circular watch-towers of Kaseem. But immediately before
us stood a more remarkable monument, one that fixed the attention and
wonder even of our Arab companions themselves.
“For hardly had we descended the narrow path where it winds from ledge to
ledge down to the bottom, when we saw before us several huge stones, like
enormous bowlders, placed endways perpendicularly on the soil, while some
of them yet upheld similar masses laid transversely over their summit.
They were arranged in a curve, once forming part, it would appear, of a
large circle, and many other like fragments lay rolled on the ground at a
moderate distance; the number of those still upright was, to speak by
memory, eight or nine. Two, at about ten or twelve feet apart one from
the other, and resembling huge gate-posts, yet bore their horizontal
lintel, a long block laid across them; a few were deprived of their upper
traverse, the rest supported each its headpiece in defiance of time and
of the more destructive efforts of man. So nicely balanced did one of
these cross-bars appear that, in hope it might prove a rocking-stone, I
guided my camel right under it, and then stretching up my riding-stick at
arm’s-length could just manage to touch and push it, but it did not stir.
Meanwhile the respective heights of camel, rider, and stick taken
together would place the stone in question full fifteen feet from the
ground.
“These blocks seem, by their quality, to have been hewn from the
neighboring limestone cliff, and roughly shaped, but present no further
trace of art, no groove or cavity of sacrificial import, much less
anything intended for figure or ornament. The people of the country
attribute their erection to Darim, and by his own hands, too, seeing that
he was a giant; perhaps, also, for some magical ceremony, since he was a
magician. Pointing toward Rass, our companions affirmed that a second
and similar stone circle, also of gigantic dimensions, existed there;
and, lastly, they mentioned a third toward the southwest, that is, on the
confines of Hedjaz.
“Here, as in most parts of Arabia, the staple article of cultivation is
the date-palm. Of this tree there are, however, many widely differing
species, and Kaseem can boast of containing the best known anywhere, the
Khalas of Hasa alone excepted. The ripening season coincides with the
latter half of August and the first of September, and we had thus an
ample opportunity for testing the produce. Those who, like most
Europeans at home, only know the date from the dried specimens of that
fruit shown beneath a label in shop-windows, can hardly imagine how
delicious it is when eaten fresh and in Central Arabia. Nor is it, when
newly gathered, heating, a defect inherent to the preserved fruit
everywhere; nor does its richness, however great, bring satiety: in
short, it is an article of food alike pleasant and healthy. Its
cheapness in its native land might astonish a Londoner. Enough of the
very best dates from the Bereydah gardens to fill a large Arab
handkerchief, about fifteen inches each way, almost to bursting, cost
Barakat and myself the moderate sum of three farthings. We hung it up
from the roof-beam of our apartment to preserve the luscious fruit from
the ants, and it continued to drip molten sweetness into a sugary pool on
the floor below for three days together, before we had demolished the
contents, though it figured at every dinner and supper during that
period.
“We were soon under the outer walls of ’Eyoon, a good-sized town
containing at least ten thousand inhabitants according to my rough
computation. Its central site, at the very juncture of the great
northern and western lines of communication, renders it important, and
for this reason it is carefully fortified, that is, for the country, and
furnished with watchtowers much resembling manufactory chimneys, in size
and shape, beside a massive and capacious citadel. My readers may
anticipate analogous, though proportionate, features in most other towns
and villages of this province.
“Between the town-walls and the sand-hills close by was a sheltered spot,
where we took about four hours of sleep, till the waning moon rose. Then
all were once more in movement, camels gnarling, men loading, and the
doctor and his apprentice mounting their beasts, all for Bereydah. But
that town was distant, and when day broke at last there was yet a long
road to traverse. This now lay amid mounds and valleys, thick with the
vegetation already described; and somewhat after sunrise we took a full
hour to pass the gardens and fields of Ghat, a straggling village, where
a dozen wells supplied the valley with copious irrigation. On the
adjoining hillocks—I may not call them heights—was continued the series
of watch-towers, corresponding with others farther off that belonged to
villages seen by glimpses in the landscape; I heard, but soon forgot,
their names.
“A march of ten or twelve hours had tired us, and the weather was
oppressively close, no uncommon phenomenon in Kaseem, where, what between
low sandy ground and a southerly latitude, the climate is much more
sultry than in Djebel Shomer, or the mountains of Toweyk. So that we
were very glad when the ascent of a slight eminence discovered to our
gaze the long-desired town of Bereydah, whose oval fortifications rose to
view amid an open and cultivated plain. It was a view for Turner. An
enormous watch-tower, near a hundred feet in height, a minaret of scarce
inferior proportions, a mass of bastioned walls, such as we had not yet
witnessed in Arabia, green groves around and thickets of ithel, all under
the dreamy glare of noon, offered a striking spectacle, far surpassing
whatever I had anticipated, and announced populousness and wealth. We
longed to enter those gates and walk those streets. But we had yet a
delay to wear out. At about a league from the town our guide, Mubarek,
led us off the main road to the right, up and down several little but
steep sand-hills, and hot declivities, till about two in the afternoon,
half-roasted with the sun, we reached, never so weary, his garden gate.
“The morning was bright, yet cool, when we got free of the maze of ithel
and sand-slopes, and entered the lanes that traverse the garden circle
round the town, in all quiet and security. But our approach to Bereydah
was destined to furnish us an unexpected and undesired surprise, though
indeed less startling than that which discomposed our first arrival at
Ha’yel. We had just passed a well near the angle of a garden wall, when
we saw a man whose garb and appearance at once bespoke him for a muleteer
of the north, watering a couple of mules at the pool hard by. Barakat
and I stared with astonishment, and could hardly believe our eyes. For
since the day we left Gaza for the southeastern desert we had never met
with a like dress, nor with these animals; and how, then, came they here?
But there was no mistaking either the man or the beasts, and as the
muleteer raised his head to look at the passers-by, he also started at
our sight, and evidently recognized in us something that took him
unawares. But the riddle was soon solved. A few paces farther on, our
way opened out on the great plain that lies immediately under the town
walls to the north. This space was now covered with tents and thronged
with men of foreign dress and bearing, mixed with Arabs of town and
desert, women and children, talking and quarrelling, buying and selling,
going and coming; everywhere baskets full of dates and vegetables,
platters bearing eggs and butter, milk and whey, meat hung on poles,
bundles of firewood, etc., stood ranged in rows, horsemen and camel-men
were riding about between groups seated round fires or reclining against
their baggage; in the midst of all this medley a gilt ball surmounted a
large white pavilion of a make that I had not seen since last I left
India, some eleven years before, and numerous smaller tents of striped
cloth, and certainly not of Arab fashion, clustered around; a lively
scene, especially of a clear morning, but requiring some explanation from
its exotic and non-Arab character. These tents belonged to the great
caravan of Persian pilgrims, on their return from Medina to Meshid ’Alee
by the road of Kaseem, and hence all this unusual concourse and bustle.
[Picture: An Arab Encampment]
“Passing a little on to the east, we left the crowded encampment on one
side and turned to enter the city gates. Here, and this is generally the
case in the larger Arab towns of old date, the fortifications surround
houses alone, and the gardens all lie without, sometimes defended—at
’Oneyzah, for example—by a second outer girdle of walls and towers, but
sometimes, as at Bereydah, devoid of any mural protection. The town
itself is composed exclusively of streets, houses, and market-places, and
bears in consequence a more regular appearance than the recent and
village-like arrangements of the Djowf and even of Ha’yel. We passed a
few streets, tolerably large but crooked, and then made the camels kneel
down in a little square or public place, where I remained seated by them
on the baggage, switch in hand, like an ordinary Arab traveller, and
Barakat with Mubarek went in search of lodgings.
“Very long did the half-hour seem to me during which I had thus to mount
guard till my companions returned from their quest; the streets were full
of people, and a disagreeable crowd of the lower sort was every moment
collecting round myself and my camels, with all the inquisitiveness of
the idle and vulgar in every land. At last my companions came back to
say that they had found what they wanted; a kick or two brought the
camels on their legs again, and we moved off to our new quarters.
“The house in question was hardly more than five minutes’ walk from the
north gate, and at about an equal distance only from the great
market-place on the other side. Its position was therefore good. It
possessed two large rooms on the ground story, and three smaller, besides
a spacious court-yard, surrounded by high walls. A winding stair of
irregular steps and badly lighted, like all in the Nedjed, led up to an
extent of flat roof, girt round by a parapet six feet high, and divided
into two compartments by a cross-wall, thus affording a very tolerable
place for occupation morning and evening, at the hours when the
side-walls might yet project enough shade to shelter those seated
alongside of them, besides an excellent sleeping place for night.”
The day after their arrival they made a call upon Mohanna, the ruler of
Bereydah, in order to ask his assistance in proceeding to Nedjed. But he
was too busy in devising means to exact more tribute-money from the
Persian pilgrims to give any notice to two persons whose dress and
appearance gave no token of wealth. This neglect afterward proved to be
a piece of good fortune. They then spent several days in a vain attempt
to find camels and guides; no one was willing to undertake the service.
The central province of Nedjed, the genuine Wahabee country, is to the
rest of Arabia a sort of lion’s den, into which few venture and yet fewer
return. An elderly man of Bereydah, of whom Palgrave demanded
information, simply replied, “It is Nedjed; he who enters it does not
come out again,” and this is almost literally true. Its mountains, once
the fastnesses of robbers and assassins, are at the present day equally,
or even more, formidable as the stronghold of fanatics who consider
everyone save themselves an infidel or a heretic, and who regard the
slaughter of an infidel or a heretic as a duty, at least a merit. In
addition to this general cause of anticipating a worse than cold
reception in Nedjed, wars and bloodshed, aggression and tyranny, have
heightened the original antipathy of the surrounding population into
special and definite resentment for wrongs received, perhaps inflicted,
till Nedjed has become for all but her born sons doubly dangerous and
doubly hateful.
Another circumstance, which seemed to make Palgrave’s situation more
difficult, although it was equally fortunate in the end, was a rebellion
which had broken out in the neighboring city of ’Oneyzah, headed by
Zamil, a native chief. The town was at that time besieged by the
Wahabees, yet held out gallantly, and the sympathy of the people of all
Kaseem was so strongly on the side of Zamil, that only the presence of
the Wahabee troops in Bereydah kept that city, also, from revolt. The
rebels had sent deputations to Mecca and also to Djebel Shomer for
assistance, and there seemed to be some possibility of a general Central
Arabian revolt against the hated Wahabee supremacy. It seemed thus to be
a most unpropitious time for penetrating the stronghold of Nedjed.
Palgrave did not so much fear the suspicion of being a European, as that
of being an Ottoman spy. His first need, however, was the means of going
forward safely. He thus described how an apparent chance made him
acquainted with the man to whom almost the entire success of his later
travels was due:
“It was the sixth day after our arrival, and the 22d of September, when
about noon I was sitting alone and rather melancholy, and trying to
beguile the time with reading the incomparable Divan of Ebn-el-Farid, the
favorite companion of my travels. Barakat had at my request betaken
himself out of doors, less in hopes of success than to ‘go to and fro in
the earth and walk up and down in it;’ nor did I now dare to expect that
he would return any wiser than he had set forth. When lo! after a long
two hours’ absence he came in with cheerful face, index of good tidings.
“Good, indeed, they were, none better. Their bearer said, that after
roaming awhile to no purport through the streets and market-place, he had
bethought him of a visit to the Persian camp. There, while straying
among the tents, ‘like a washerwoman’s dog,’ as a Hindoo would say, he
noticed somewhat aloof from the crowd a small group of pilgrims seated
near their baggage on the sand, while curls of smoke going up from amid
the circle indicated the presence of a fire, which at that time of day
could be for nothing else than coffee. Civilized though Barakat
undoubtedly was, he was yet by blood and heart an Arab, and for an Arab
to see coffee-making and not to put himself in the way of getting a share
would be an act of self-restraint totally unheard of. So he approached
the group, and was of course invited to sit down and drink. The party
consisted of two wealthy Persians, accompanied by three or four of that
class of men, half-servants, half-companions, who often hook on to
travellers at Bagdad or its neighborhood, besides a mulatto of
Arabo-negrine origin, and his master, this last being the leader of the
band, and the giver of the aromatic entertainment.
“Barakat’s whole attention was at once engrossed by this personage. A
remarkably handsome face, of a type evidently not belonging to the Arab
peninsula, long hair curling down to the shoulders, an over-dress of fine
spun silk, somewhat soiled by travel, a colored handkerchief of Syrian
manufacture on the head, a manner and look indicating an education much
superior to that ordinary in his class and occupation, a camel-driver’s,
were peculiarities sufficient of themselves to attract notice, and give
rise to conjecture. But when these went along with a welcome and a
salute in the forms and tone of Damascus or Aleppo, and a ready flow of
that superabundant and overcharged politeness for which the Syrian
subjects of the Turkish empire are renowned, Barakat could no longer
doubt that he had a fellow-countryman, and one, too, of some note, before
him.
“Such was in fact the case. Aboo-’Eysa, to give him the name by which he
was commonly known in these parts, though in his own country he bears
another denomination, was a native of Aleppo, and son of a not
unimportant individual in that fair city. His education, and the
circumstances of his early youth, had rendered him equally conversant
with townsmen and herdsmen, with citizens and Bedouins, with Arabs and
Europeans. By lineal descent he was a Bedouin, since his grandfather
belonged to the Mejadimah, who are themselves an offshoot of the
Benoo-Khalid; but in habits, thoughts, and manners he was a very son of
Aleppo, where he had passed the greater part of his boyhood and youth.
When about twenty-five years of age he became involved, culpably or not,
in the great conspiracy against the Turkish government which broke out in
the Aleppine insurrection of 1852. Like many others he was compelled to
anticipate consequences by a prompt flight.
“After trying commerce in order to retrieve his ruined fortunes, but with
ill success, Aboo-’Eysa engaged in the horse trade between Persia and
Arabia, and also failed. He then went to Ri’ad, the capital of Nedjed,
and by presents to Feysul, the chief, obtained a post as guide to the
Persian caravans of pilgrims to Mecca, across Arabia. At this time he
had followed that career for three years, and had amassed considerable
wealth, for his politeness, easy manners, and strict probity made him
popular with the pilgrims.
“He recognized a fellow-countryman in Barakat,” says Palgrave, “received
him with marked politeness, and carefully informed himself of our whence
and whither. Barakat, overjoyed to find at last a kind of opening after
difficulties that had appeared to obstruct all further progress, made no
delay in inquiring whether he would undertake our guidance to Ri’ad.
Aboo-’Eysa replied that he was just on the point of separating from his
friends the Persians, whose departure would leave camels enough and to
spare at his disposition, and that so far there was no hindrance to the
proposal. As for the Wahabees and their unwillingness to admit strangers
within their limits, he stated himself to be well known to them, and that
in his company we should have nothing to fear from their suspicious
criticism.”
The agreement was made at once, and the travellers now only waited until
their new companion should have made some final arrangements with the
Persian pilgrims, who were to travel directly from Bereydah to Bagdad.
In the meantime, the former took advantage of the delay to see as much as
possible of the place, and even to make excursions in the neighborhood,
especially in the direction of the beleaguered city of ’Oneyzah.
Palgrave’s description of the place shows that it possesses the same
general features as the other Arabian towns, yet may be quoted for its
intrinsic picturesqueness:
“Barakat and myself have made our morning household purchases at the
fair, and the sun being now an hour or more above the horizon, we think
it time to visit the market-place of the town, which would hardly be open
sooner. We re-enter the city gate, and pass on our way by our house
door, where we leave our bundle of eatables, and regain the high street
of Bereydah. Before long we reach a high arch across the road; this gate
divides the market from the rest of the quarter. We enter. First of all
we see a long range of butchers’ shops on either side, thick hung with
flesh of sheep and camel, and very dirtily kept. Were not the air pure
and the climate healthy, the plague would assuredly be endemic here; but
in Arabia no special harm seems to follow. We hasten on, and next pass a
series of cloth and linen warehouses, stocked partly with home
manufacture, but more imported; Bagdad cloaks and head-gear, for
instance, Syrian shawls and Egyptian slippers. Here markets follow the
law general throughout the East, that all shops or stores of the same
description should be clustered together, a system whose advantages on
the whole outweigh its inconveniences, at least for small towns like
these. In the large cities and capitals of Europe greater extent of
locality requires evidently a different method of arrangement; it might
be awkward for the inhabitants of Hyde Park were no hatters to be found
nearer than the Tower. But what is Bereydah compared even with a
second-rate European city? However, in a crowd, it yields to none; the
streets at this time of the day are thronged to choking, and to make
matters worse, a huge, splay-footed camel comes every now and then,
heaving from side to side like a lubber-rowed boat, with a long beam on
his back menacing the heads of those in the way, or with two enormous
loads of firewood, each as large as himself, sweeping the road before him
of men, women, and children, while the driver, high-perched on the hump,
regards such trifles with the most supreme indifference, so long as he
brushes his path open. Sometimes there is a whole string of these
beasts, the head-rope of each tied to the crupper of his precursor, very
uncomfortable passengers when met with at a narrow turning.
“Through such obstacles we have found or made our way, and are now amid
leather and shoemakers’ shops, then among coppersmiths and ironsmiths,
whose united clang might waken the dead or kill the living, till at last
we emerge on the central town-square, not a bad one either, nor very
irregular, considering that it is in Kaseem.
“The vegetable and fruit market is very extensive, and kept almost
exclusively by women; so are also the shops for grocery and spices. Nor
do the fair sex of Bereydah seem a whit inferior to their rougher
partners in knowledge of business and thrifty diligence.
‘Close-handedness beseems a woman no less than generosity a man,’ says an
Arab poet, unconsciously coinciding with Lance of Verona in his comments
on the catalogue of his future spouse’s ‘conditions.’
“The whole town has an aspect of old but declining prosperity. There are
few new houses, but many falling into ruin. The faces, too, of most we
meet are serious, and their voices in an undertone. Silk dresses are
prohibited by the dominant faction, and tobacco can only be smoked within
doors, and by stealth. Every now and then zealous Wahabee missionaries
from Ri’ad pay a visit of reform and preaching to unwilling auditors, and
disobedience to the customs of the Nedjean sect is noticed and punished,
often severely.
“Enough of the town; the streets are narrow, hot, and dusty; the day,
too, advances; but the gardens are yet cool. So we dash at a venture
through a labyrinth of by-ways and cross-ways till we find ourselves in
the wide street that, like a boulevard in France, runs immediately along
but inside the walls.
“We stroll about in the shade, hide ourselves amid the high maize to
smoke a quiet pipe unobserved by prying Nedjean eyes, and then walk on
till at some distance we come under a high ridge of sand.
“While on one of our suburban excursions we took the direction of
’Oneyzah, but found it utterly impossible to arrive within its walls; so
we contented ourselves with an outside and distant view of this large and
populous town; the number of its houses, and their size, judging by the
overtopping summits that marked out the dwelling of Zamil and his family,
far surpassed anything in Bereydah. The outer fortifications are
enormously thick, and the girdle of palm-trees between them and the town
affords a considerable additional defence to the latter. For all I could
see there is little stonework in the construction; they appear almost
exclusively of unbaked bricks; yet even so they are formidable defences
for Arabia. The whole country around, and whatever lay northeast toward
Bereydah, was more or less ravaged by the war; and we were blamed by our
friends as very rash in having ventured thus far; in fact, it was a mere
chance that we did not fall in with skirmishers or plunderers; and in
such a case the military discipline of Kaseem would hardly have insured
our safety.
“When all was ready for the long-expected departure, it was definitely
fixed for the 3d of October, a Friday, I think, at nightfall. Since our
first interview Barakat and myself had not again presented ourselves
before Mohanna, except in chance meetings, accompanied by distant
salutations in the street or market-place; and we did not see any need
for paying him a special farewell call. Indeed, after learning who and
what he was, we did our best not to draw his gray eye on us, and thereby
escaped some additional trouble and surplus duties to pay, nor did any
one mention us to him. At star-rise we bade our host and householder
Ahmed a final adieu, and left the town with Aboo-’Eysa for our guide.”