PALGRAVE’S TRAVELS—JOURNEY TO RI’AD THE CAPITAL OF NEDJED.
TWO roads lay before us. The shorter, and for that reason the more
frequented of the two, led southeast-by-east through Woshem and Wady
Haneefah to Ri’ad. But this track passed through a district often
visited at the present moment by the troops of ’Oneyzah and their allies,
and hence our companions, not over-courageous for the most, were afraid
to follow it. Another road, much more circuitous, but farther removed
from the scene of military operations, led northeast to Zulphah, and
thence entered the province of Sedeyr, which it traversed in a
southeasterly or southern direction, and thus reached the ’Aared. Our
council of war resolved on the latter itinerary, nor did we ourselves
regret a roundabout which promised to procure us the sight of much that
we might scarcely have otherwise an opportunity of visiting. Barakat and
I were mounted on two excellent dromedaries of Aboo-’Eysa’s stud; the
Na’ib {201} was on a lovely gray she camel with a handsome saddle,
crimson and gold. The Meccans shared between them a long-backed black
beast; the rest were also mounted on camels or dromedaries, since the
road before us was impracticable for horses, at any rate at this time of
year.
“Our road lay in Kaseem, whose highlands we rejoined once more, and
traversed till sunset. The view was very beautiful from its extent and
variety of ups and downs, in broad, grassy hills; little groups of trees
stood in scattered detachments around; and had a river, that desideratum
of Arabia, been in sight, one might almost have fancied one’s self in the
country bordering the Lower Rhine for some part of its course; readers
may suppose, too, that there was less verdure here than in the European
parallel—my comparison bears only on the general turn of the view. No
river exists nearer Kaseem than Shatt (Euphrates), some hundred leagues
off, and our eyes had been too long accustomed to the deceptive pools of
the mirage to associate with them even a passing idea of aught save
drought and heat.
“We journeyed on till dark, and then reached certain hillocks of a
different character from the hard ground lately under our feet. Here
began the Nefood, whose course from the southwest to northeast, and then
north, parts between Kaseem, Woshem, and Sedeyr. I have already said
something of these sandy inlets when describing that which we crossed
three months ago between Djowf and Shomer.
“On the verge of the desert strip we now halted a little to eat a hasty
supper, and to drink—the Arabs coffee and the Persians tea. But
journeying in these sands, under the heat of the day, is alike killing to
man and beast, and therefore Aboo-’Eysa had resolved that we should cross
the greater portion under favor of the cooler hours of night.
“All night, a weary night, we waded up and down through waves of sand, in
which the camels often sank up to their knees, and their riders were
obliged to alight and help them on.
“Now by full daylight appeared the true character of the region which we
were traversing; its aspect resembled the Nefood north of Djebel Shomer,
but the undulations were here higher and deeper, and the sand itself
lighter and less stable. In most spots neither shrub nor blade of grass
could fix its root, in others a scanty vegetation struggled through, but
no trace of man anywhere. The camels ploughed slowly on; the Persians,
unaccustomed to such scenes, were downcast and silent; all were tired,
and no wonder. At last, a little before noon, and just as the sun’s heat
was becoming intolerable, we reached the verge of an immense crater-like
hollow, certainly three or four miles in circumference, where the
sand-billows receded on every side, and left in the midst a pit seven or
eight hundred feet in depth, at whose base we could discern a white gleam
of limestone rock, and a small group of houses, trees, and gardens, thus
capriciously isolated in the very heart of the desert.
“This was the little village and oasis of Wasit, or ‘the intermediary,’
so called because a central point between the three provinces of Kaseem,
Sedeyr, and Woshem, yet belonging to none of them. Nor is it often
visited by wayfarers, as we learned from the inhabitants, men simple and
half-savage, from their little intercourse with the outer world, and
unacquainted even with the common forms of Islamitic prayer, though
dwelling in the midst of the Wahabee dominions.
“A long, winding descent brought us to the bottom of the valley, where on
our arrival men and boys came out to stare at the Persians, and by
exacting double prices for fruit and camel’s milk proved themselves not
altogether such fools as they looked. For us, regarded as Arabs, we
enjoyed their hospitality—it was necessarily a limited one—gratis;
whereupon the Na’ib grew jealous, and declaimed against the Arabs as
‘infidels,’ for not treating with suitable generosity pilgrims like
themselves returning from the ‘house of God.’
“To get out of this pit was no easy matter; _facilis descensus_, etc.,
thought I; no ascending path showed itself in the required direction, and
every one tried to push up his floundering beast where the sand appeared
at a manageable slope, and firm to the footing. Camels and men fell and
rolled back down the declivity, till some of the party shed tears of
vexation, and others, more successful, laughed at the annoyance of their
companions. Aboo-’Eysa ran about from one to the other, attempting to
direct and keep them together, till finally, as Heaven willed, we reached
the upper rim to the north.
“Before us lay what seemed a storm-driven sea of fire in the red light of
afternoon, and through it we wound our way, till about an hour before
sunset we fell in with a sort of track or furrow. Next opened out on our
road a long descent, at whose extreme base we discerned the important and
commercial town of Zulphah. Beyond it rose the wall-like steeps of
Djebel Toweyk, so often heard of, and now seen close at hand. Needless
to say how joyfully we welcomed the first view of that strange ridge, the
heart and central knot of Arabia, beyond which whatever lay might almost
be reckoned as a return journey.
“We had now, in fact, crossed the Nefood, and had at our feet the great
valley which constitutes the main line of communication between Nedjed
and the north, reaching even to the Tigris and Bagdad.
“We passed the whole length of the town of Zulphah, several streets of
which had been lately swept away by the winter torrents that pour at
times their short-lived fury down this valley. Before us to the
southeast stretched the long hollow; on our right was the Nefood, on our
left Djebel Toweyk and the province of Sedeyr. The mountain air blew
cool, and this day’s journey was a far pleasanter one than its
predecessor. We continued our march down the valley till the afternoon,
when we turned aside into a narrow gorge running up at a sharp angle to
the northeast, and thus entered between the heights of Djebel Toweyk
itself.
“This mountain essentially constitutes Nedjed. It is a wide and flat
chain, or rather plateau, whose general form is that of a huge crescent.
If I may be permitted here to give my rough guess regarding the elevation
of the main plateau, a guess grounded partly on the vegetation, climate,
and similar local features, partly on an approximate estimate of the
ascent itself, and of the subsequent descent on the other or sea side, I
should say that it varies from a height of one to two thousand feet above
the surrounding level of the peninsula, and may thus be about three
thousand feet at most above the sea. Its loftiest ledges occur in the
Sedeyr district, where we shall pass them before long; the centre and the
southwesterly arm is certainly lower. Djebel Toweyk is the middle knot
of Arabia, its Caucasus, so to say; and is still, as it has often been in
former times, the turning-point of the whole, or almost the whole,
peninsula in a political and national bearing.
“The climate of the northern part of Djebel Toweyk, whether plateau or
valley, coincident with the province of Sedeyr, is perhaps one of the
healthiest in the world; an exception might be made in favor of Djebel
Shomer alone. The above named districts resemble each other closely in
dryness of atmosphere, and the inhabitants of Sedeyr, like those of
Shomer, are remarkable for their ruddy complexion and well-developed
stature. But when we approach the centre of the mountain crescent, where
its whole level lowers, while the more southerly latitude brings it
nearer to the prevailing influences of the tropical zone, the air becomes
damper and more relaxing, and a less salubrious climate pictures itself
in the sallower faces and slender make of its denizens.
“Two days later we attained the great plateau, of which I have a few
pages since given an anticipated description.
“About noon we halted in a brushwood-covered plain to light fire and
prepare coffee. After which we pursued our easterly way, still a little
to the north, now and then meeting with travellers or peasants; but a
European would find these roads very lonely in comparison with those of
his own country. All the more did I admire the perfect submission and
strict police enforced by the central government, so that even a casual
robbery is very rare in the provinces, and highwaymen are totally out of
the question. At last, near the same hour of afternoon that had brought
us the day before to Ghat, we came in sight of Mejmaa’, formerly capital
of the province, and still a place of considerable importance, with a
population, to judge by appearances and hearsay, of between ten and
twelve thousand souls.
“We were up early next morning, for the night air was brisk, and a few
hours of sleep had sufficed us.
“After sunrise we came on a phenomenon of a nature, I believe, without a
second or a parallel in Central Arabia, yet withal most welcome, namely,
a tolerably large source of running water, forming a wide and deepish
stream, with grassy banks, and frogs croaking in the herbage. We opened
our eyes in amazement; it was the first of the kind that we had beheld
since leaving the valley of Djowf. But though a living, it is a
short-lived rivulet, reaching only four or five hours’ distance to
Djelajil, where it is lost amid the plantations of the suburbs.
“We had not long traversed the Meteyr encampment, when we came in view of
the walls of Toweym, a large town, containing between twelve and fifteen
thousand inhabitants, according to the computation here in use, and which
I follow for want of better. The houses are here built compactly, of two
stories in general, sometimes three; the lower rooms are often fifteen or
sixteen feet high, and the upper ten or twelve; while the roof itself is
frequently surrounded by a blind wall of six feet or more, till the whole
attains a fair altitude, and is not altogether unimposing.
“Early next day, at a short distance from Toweym, we passed another large
village with battlemented walls, and on the opposite side of the road a
square castle, looking very mediæval; this was Hafr. A couple of hours
further on we reached Thomeyr, a straggling townlet, more abounding in
broken walls than houses; close by was a tall white rock, crowned by the
picturesque remains of an old outwork or fort, overlooking the place.
Here our party halted for breakfast in the shadow of the ruins. Barakat
and myself determined to try our fortune in the village itself; no guards
appeared at its open gate; we entered unchallenged, and roamed through
silent lanes and heaps of rubbish, vainly seeking news of milk and dates
in this city of the dead. At last we met a meagre townsman, in look and
apparel the apothecary of Romeo; and of him, not without misgivings of
heart, we inquired where aught eatable could be had for love or money.
He apologized, though there was scarce need of that, for not having any
such article at his disposal; ‘but,’ added he, ‘in such and such a house
there will certainly be something good,’ and thitherward he preceded us
in our search. We found indeed a large dwelling, but the door was shut;
we knocked to no purpose: nobody at home.
[Picture: Death on the Desert]
“Our man now set us a bolder example, and we altogether scrambled through
a breach in the mud wall, and found ourselves amid empty rooms and a
desolate court-yard. ‘Everybody is out in the fields, women only
excepted,’ said our guide, and we separated, no better off than before.
Despairing of the village commissariat, we climbed a turret on the outer
walls, and looked round. Now we saw at some distance a beautiful
palm-grove, where we concluded that dates could not be wanting, and off
we set for it across the stubble fields. But on arriving we found our
paradise surrounded by high walls, and no gate discoverable. While thus
we stood without, like Milton’s fiend at Eden, but unable, like him, ‘by
one high bound to overleap all bound,’ up came a handsome Solibah lad,
all in rags, half-walking, half-dancing, in the devil-may-care way of his
tribe. ‘Can you tell us which is the way in?’ was our first question,
pointing to the garden before us; and, ‘Shall I sing you a song?’ was his
first answer. ‘We don’t want your songs, but dates; how are we to get at
them?’ we replied. ‘Or shall I perform you a dance?’ answered the
grinning young scoundrel, and forthwith began an Arabian polka-step,
laughing all the while at our undisguised impatience. At last he
condescended to show us the way, but no other than what befitted an
orchard-robbing boy, like himself, for it lay a little farther off, right
over the wall, which he scaled with practised ingenuity, and helped us to
follow. So we did, though perhaps with honester intentions, and, once
within, stood amid trees, shade, and water. The ‘tender juvenile’ then
set up a shout, and soon a man appeared, ‘old Adam’s likeness set to
dress this garden,’ save that he was not old but young, as Adam might
himself have been while yet in Eden. We were somewhat afraid of a surly
reception, too well merited by our very equivocal introduction; but the
gardener was better-tempered than many of his caste, and after saluting
us very politely, offered his services at our disposal. We then proposed
to purchase a stock of dates for our onward way, whereon the gardener
conducted us to an outhouse where heaps of three or four kinds of this
fruit, red and yellow, round or long, lay piled up, and bade us choose.
At his recommendation we filled a large cloth, which we had brought with
us for the purpose, with excellent ruddy dates, and gave in return a
small piece of money, welcome here as elsewhere. We then took leave and
returned, but this time through the garden gate, to the stubble fields,
and passing under the broken walls of the village, reached our
companions, who had become anxious at our absence.”
For three days longer the travellers journeyed southward, through the
valleys branching out from Djebel Toweyk, encamping for the night near
some of the small towns. “In the early gray of the fourth morning,” says
Palgrave, “we passed close under the plantations of Rowdah down the
valley, now dry and still, once overflowed with the best blood of Arabia,
and through the narrow and high-walled pass which gives entrance to the
great strongholds of the land. The sun rose and lighted up to our view
wild precipices on either side, with a tangled mass of broken rock and
brushwood below, while coveys of partridges started up at our feet, and
deer scampered away by the gorges to right or left, or a cloud of dust
announced the approach of peasant bands or horsemen going to and fro, and
gardens or hamlets gleamed through side openings or stood niched in the
bulging passes of the Wady itself, till before noon we arrived at the
little hamlet of Malka, or ‘the junction.’
“Its name is derived from its position. Here the valley divides in form
of a Y, sending off two branches—one southerly to Derey’eeyah, the other
southeast-by-east through the centre of the province, and communicating
with the actual capital, Ri’ad.
“Aboo-’Eysa had meditated bringing us on that very evening to Ri’ad. But
eight good leagues remained from Malka to the capital; and when the Na’ib
had terminated his cosmetic operations, the easterly turning shadows left
us no hope of attaining Ri’ad before nightfall. However, we resumed our
march, and took the arm of the valley leading to Derey’eeyah; but before
reaching it we once more quitted the Wady, and followed a shorter path by
the highlands to the left. Our way was next crossed by a long range of
towers, built by Ibraheem Pasha, as outposts for the defence of this
important position. Within their line stood the lonely walls of a large,
square barrack; the towers were what we sometimes call Martello—short,
large, and round.
“The level rays of the setting sun now streamed across the plain, and we
came on the ruins of Derey’eeyah, filling up the whole breadth of the
valley beneath. The palace walls, of unbaked brick, like the rest, rose
close under the left or northern edge, but unroofed and tenantless; a
little lower down a wide extent of fragments showed where the immense
mosque had been, and hard by, the market-place; a tower on an isolated
height was, I suppose, the original dwelling-place of the Sa’ood family,
while yet mere local chieftains, before growing greatness transferred
them to their imperial palace. The outer fortifications remained almost
uninjured for much of their extent, with turrets and bastions reddening
in the western light; in other places the Egyptian artillery, or the
process of years, had levelled them with the earth; within the town many
houses were yet standing, but uninhabited, and the lines of the streets
from gate to gate were distinct as in a ground plan. From the great size
of the town (for it is full half a mile in length, and not much less in
breadth), and from the close packing of the houses, I should estimate its
capacity at above forty thousand indwellers. The gardens lie without,
and still ‘living waved where man had ceased to live,’ in full beauty and
luxuriance, a deep green ring around the gray ruins. For although the
Nedjeans, holding it for an ill omen to rebuild and reinhabit a town so
fatally overthrown, have transplanted the seat of government, and with it
the bulk of the city population, to Ri’ad, they have not deemed it
equally necessary to abandon the rich plantations and well-watered fields
belonging to the old capital; and thus a small colony of gardeners in
scattered huts and village dwellings close under the walls protract the
blighted existence of Derey’eeyah.
“While from our commanding elevation we gazed thoughtfully on this scene,
so full of remembrances, the sun set, and darkness grew on. We naturally
proposed a halt, but Aboo-’Eysa turned a deaf ear, and affirmed that a
garden belonging to ’Abd-er-Rahman, already mentioned as grandson of the
first Wahabee, was but a little farther before us, and better adapted to
our night’s rest than the ruins. In truth, three hours of brisk
travelling yet intervened between Derey’eeyah and the place in question;
but our guide was unwilling to enter Derey’eeyah in company of Persians
and Syrians, Shiya’ees and Christians; and this he afterward confessed to
me. For, whether from one of those curious local influences which
outlast even the change of races, and give one abiding color to the
successive tenants of the same spot, or whether it be occasioned by the
constant view of their fallen greatness and the triumph of their enemies,
the scanty population of Derey’eeyah comprises some of the bitterest and
most bigoted fanatics that even ’Aared can offer. Accordingly we moved
on, still keeping to the heights, and late at night descended a little
hollow, where, amid an extensive garden, stood the country villa of
’Abd-er-Rahman.
“We did not attempt to enter the house; indeed, at such an hour no one
was stirring to receive us. But a shed in the garden close by sufficed
for travellers who were all too weary to desire aught but sleep; and this
we soon found in spite of dogs and jackals, numerous here and throughout
Nedjed.
“From this locality to the capital was about four miles’ distance. Our
party divided next morning; the Na’ib and his associates remaining
behind, while Barakat and myself, with Aboo-’Eysa, set off straight for
the town, where our guide was to give notice at the palace of the
approach of the Persian dignitary, that the honors due to his reception
might meet him half-way. At our request the Meccans stayed also in the
rear; we did not desire the equivocal effect of their company on a first
appearance.
“For about an hour we proceeded southward, through barren and undulating
ground, unable to see over the country to any distance. At last we
attained a rising eminence, and crossing it, came at once in full view of
Ri’ad, the main object of our long journey—the capital of Nedjed and half
Arabia, its very heart of hearts.
“Before us stretched a wild open valley, and in its foreground,
immediately below the pebbly slope on whose summit we stood, lay the
capital, large and square, crowned by high towers and strong walls of
defence, a mass of roofs and terraces, where overtopping all frowned the
huge but irregular pile of Feysul’s royal castle, and hard by it rose the
scarce less conspicuous palace, built and inhabited by his eldest son,
’Abdallah. Other edifices, too, of remarkable appearance broke here and
there through the maze of gray roof-tops, but of their object and
indwellers we were yet to learn. All around for full three miles over
the surrounding plain, but more especially to the west and south, waved a
sea of palm-trees above green fields and well-watered gardens; while the
singing, droning sound of the water-wheels reached us even where we had
halted, at a quarter of a mile or more from the nearest town-walls. On
the opposite side southward, the valley opened out into the great and
even more fertile plains of Yemamah, thickly dotted with groves and
villages, among which the large town of Manfoohah, hardly inferior in
size to Ri’ad itself, might be clearly distinguished. Farther in the
background ranged the blue hills, the ragged Sierra of Yemamah, compared
some thirteen hundred years since, by ’Amroo-ebn-Kelthoom, the Shomerite,
to drawn swords in battle array; and behind them was concealed the
immeasurable Desert of the South, or Dahna. On the west the valley
closes in and narrows in its upward windings toward Derey’eeyah, while to
the southwest the low mounds of Aflaj are the division between it and
Wady Dowasir. Due east in the distance a long blue line marks the
farthest heights of Toweyk, and shuts out from view the low ground of
Hasa and the shores of the Persian Gulf. In all the countries which I
have visited, and they are many, seldom has it been mine to survey a
landscape equal to this in beauty and in historical meaning, rich and
full alike to eye and mind. But should any of my readers have ever
approached Damascus from the side of the Anti-Lebanon, and surveyed the
Ghootah from the heights above Mazzeh, they may thence form an
approximate idea of the valley of Ri’ad when viewed from the north. Only
this is wider and more varied, and the circle of vision here embraces
vaster plains and bolder mountains; while the mixture of tropical aridity
and luxuriant verdure, of crowded population and desert tracks, is one
that Arabia alone can present, and in comparison with which Syria seems
tame, and Italy monotonous.”