JOHN LEWIS BURCKHARDT.

Born 1784.--Died 1817.

This traveller, descended from an eminent family of Basle, in

Switzerland, was born at Lausanne, in 1784. He was the eighth child of

John Rodolph Burckhardt, whose prospects in life were early blighted

by his adherence to the Austrian faction during the troubles in

Switzerland, consequent upon the French revolution. Our traveller,

led by hereditary prejudices to nourish an aversion for republican

principles, or too young and hot-headed not to confound the agents with

the cause, imbibed at a very early age a detestation for the French,

at that period regarded as the representatives of republicanism;

and, with the same spirit which induced Pietro della Valle to engage

in a crusade against the Turks, he wished to serve in the armies of

some nation at war with France. These wishes, however, were the mere

hallucinations of a boy, or an echo of the sentiments which he heard

uttered by others. His education had not been completed: his notions

were necessarily crude, and he had neither discovered nor learned from

others the paramount importance of freedom, without which even national

independence is a vain possession.

Burckhardt’s studies were, from various causes, conducted in the manner

best calculated to create and nourish restless and adventurous habits.

Having received the first rudiments of his education in his father’s

house, he was removed to a school at Neufchatel, where he remained two

years. At the age of sixteen he was entered a student at the university

of Leipzig; from whence, after four years’ residence, he proceeded

to Göttingen, where he continued another year. He then returned to

his parents. The natural firmness and consistency of his character,

of which his countenance was strikingly expressive, still taught him

to keep alive his hatred of the French; but no continental nation had

preserved itself wholly free from the influence of this people; and

therefore, rejecting an offer which was made him by one of the petty

courts of Germany, desirous of numbering him among its diplomatic

body, he turned his thoughts towards England, which, like a separate

world, had remained inviolate from the tread of the enemy. Accordingly,

having provided himself with letters of introduction to several persons

of distinction, among which was one from Professor Blumenbach to Sir

Joseph Banks, he set out for London, where he arrived in the month of

July, 1806.

This step was the pivot upon which the whole circle of his short

life was destined to turn. His introduction to Sir Joseph Banks, who

had long been an active member of the African Association, almost

necessarily brought him into contact with several other individuals

connected with that celebrated society; and conversations with these

persons, whose motives were at least respectable, and whose enthusiasm

was unbounded, naturally begot in Burckhardt a corresponding warmth,

and transformed him, from a Quixotic crusader against the French, into

an ardent, ambitious traveller.

It should not be dissembled that, upon Burckhardt’s desire to

travel for the African Association being communicated to Sir Joseph

Banks and Dr. Hamilton (then acting secretary to that body), strong

representations of the dangers to be encountered in the execution

of the plan were made to the youthful aspirant after fame; but such

representations, which are a delusive kind of peace-offering placed for

form’s sake on the altar of conscience, are seldom sincerely designed

to effect their apparent purpose; and the actors in the farce would,

for the most part, experience extreme chagrin should they find their

eloquence prove successful. At all events, few men are so ignorant as

not to know that the aspect of danger wears a certain charm for youth,

which naturally associates therewith an idea of honour; and, provided

success be probable, or even possible, reckons obstacles of every kind

among the incentives to exertion. These dissuasive speeches, therefore,

from persons whose sole object in constituting themselves into a

public body was to produce a directly opposite result, were altogether

hypocritical; and Burckhardt, if he possessed half the sagacity

which seems to have entered into his character, must have distinctly

perceived this, and have despised them accordingly.

However this may be, his offer, which was laid before the association

at the general meeting of May, 1808, was “willingly accepted;” and

he immediately commenced all those preparations which were necessary

to the proper accomplishment of his undertaking. He employed himself

diligently in the study of the Arabic language both in London and

Cambridge, as well as in the acquiring of a knowledge of several

branches of science, such as chymistry, astronomy, mineralogy,

medicine, and surgery; he likewise allowed his beard to grow, assumed

the oriental dress, “and in the intervals of his studies he exercised

himself by long journeys on foot, bare-headed, in the heat of the sun,

sleeping upon the ground, and living upon vegetables and water.”

On the 25th of January, 1809, he received his instructions, by which

he was directed to proceed in the first instance to Syria, where,

it was supposed, he might complete his knowledge of the Arabic, and

acquire oriental habits and manners at a distance from the scene of his

researches, and where he was not likely to meet with any individuals

who might afterward recognise him at an inconvenient moment.

Burckhardt sailed from Cowes on the 2d of March, 1809, in a

merchant-ship, proceeding to the Mediterranean, and arrived at Malta in

the middle of April. From thence, in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, he

transmitted an account of the attempt to explore the interior of Africa

which was at that time meditated by Dr. Seetzen, a German physician,

who shortly afterward perished, not without suspicions of poison, in

Yemen; and of a recent eruption of Mount Etna, the description of which

he obtained from the letter of an English gentleman.

During his stay at Malta he completed his equipment in the oriental

manner, and assumed the character of an Indian Mohammedan merchant,

bearing despatches from the East India Company to Mr. Barker, British

consul, and the company’s agent at Aleppo. Meanwhile he carefully

avoided all intercourse with such persons from Barbary as happened to

be in the island; and when he met parties of them in the street, as

he often did, the _salaam alaikum_, given and returned, was all that

passed between them. There was at this time a Swiss regiment in the

English service at Malta, to many of the officers of which Burckhardt

was personally known. To be recognised by these gentlemen would at once

have proved fatal to his assumed character; he therefore appeared in

public cautiously, and but seldom; but had at length the satisfaction

of finding that his disguise was so complete as to enable him to pass

unknown and unnoticed.

Our traveller here entered into arrangements with a Greek, respecting

his passage from this island to Cyprus; but on the very morning of his

expected departure he received information that the owner of the ship

had directed the captain to proceed to Tripoly. His baggage was in

consequence transferred to another ship, said to be bound for the same

island; “but the very moment I was embarking,” says Burckhardt, “the

new captain told me that he was not quite sure whether he should touch

at Cyprus, his ship being properly bound for Acre. I had now the option

to wait at Malta, perhaps another month or two, for an opportunity for

Cyprus or the coast of Syria, or to run the chance of disembarking at

a place where there was no person whatever to whom I could apply for

advice or protection. Luckily an Arab of Acre, then at Malta, happened

to be known to Mr. Barker, jun.; in half an hour’s time a letter for

a merchant at Acre, with another in case of need for the pasha, were

procured, and I embarked and sailed the same morning, in the hope of

finding, when arrived at Acre, a passage for Tripoly (Syria), or for

Latakia. However, we were no sooner out of sight of the island, than

it was made known to me that the real destination of the ship was the

coast of Caramania, that the captain had orders to touch first at the

port of Satalia, then at that of Tarsus; and that if grain could not be

purchased at an advantageous price at either of these places, in that

case only he was to proceed to Acre. My remonstrances with the captain

would have been vain: nothing was left to me but to cultivate his good

graces and those of my fellow-travellers, as the progress of my journey

must depend greatly upon their good offices. The passengers consisted,

to my astonishment, of a rich Tripoline merchant, who owned part of

the ship, two other Tripolines, and two negro slaves. I introduced

myself among them as an Indian Mohammedan merchant, who had been from

early years in England, and was now on his way home; and I had the good

fortune to make my story credible enough to the passengers as well

as to the ship’s company. During the course of our voyage numerous

questions were put to me relative to India, its inhabitants, and its

language, which I answered as well as I could: whenever I was asked

for a specimen of the Hindoo language, I answered in the worst dialect

of the Swiss German, almost unintelligible even to a German, and

which in its guttural sounds may fairly rival the harshest utterance

of Arabic. Every evening we assembled upon deck to enjoy the cooling

sea-breeze and to smoke our pipes. While one of the sailors was amusing

his companions with story-telling, I was called upon to relate to my

companions the wonders of the farthest east; of the grand mogul, and

the riches of his court; of the widows in Hindostan burning themselves;

of the Chinese, their wall, and great porcelain tower,” &c.

They sailed along the southern coast of Candia, saw Rhodes at a great

distance, and arrived in a few days at Satalia in Caramania. Here the

plague, it was found, was raging in the town; but this circumstance did

not prevent the Tripoline merchant from landing and disposing of his

merchandise, nor the captain from receiving him again on board. When

their business with this town was completed, they again set sail, and

after coasting for three days along the shore of Caramania, arrived

in the roads of Mersin, from whence Burckhardt and several of his

companions proceeded by land on an excursion to Tarsus. Finding here

a ship bound for the coast of Syria, our traveller left the Maltese

vessel in order to proceed by this new conveyance: “In taking leave of

the Tripoline,” says he, “I took off my sash, a sort of red cambric

shawl, of Glasgow manufacture, which he had always much admired,

thinking it to be Indian stuff, and presented it to him as a keepsake

or reward for his good services. He immediately unloosened his turban,

and twisted the shawl in its stead round his head: making me many

professions of friendship, and assuring me of his hospitality, if ever

the chance of mercantile pursuits should again engage me to visit the

Mediterranean, and perhaps Tripoly in Barbary.”

Burckhardt reached the coast of Syria at that point where the Aasi,

the ancient Orontis, falls into the sea; and immediately prepared

to depart for Aleppo with a caravan. Having been intrusted with

several chests for the British consul at Aleppo, his baggage appeared

considerable; and he was consequently sent for by the aga, who expected

a handsome present for permitting them to pass. When questioned by this

officer respecting the contents of the chests, he replied that he was

entirely ignorant of the matter, but suspected that among other things

there was a sort of French drink, called _beer_, with various kinds of

eatables. The aga now sent an officer to examine them. A bottle of beer

having been broken in loading, “the man tasted it by putting his finger

into the liquor, and found it abominably bitter: such was his report to

the aga. As a sample of the eatables, he produced a potato which he had

taken out of one of the barrels, and that noble root excited general

laughter in the room: ‘It is well worth while,’ they said, ‘to send

such stuff to such a distance.’ The aga tasted of the raw potato, and

spitting it out again, swore at the Frank’s stomach which could bear

such food.” The mean opinion which these specimens inspired them with

for such merchandise inclined the aga to be content with the trifling

sum of ten piastres, which he probably thought more than the value of a

whole ship’s cargo of potatoes and beer.

Upon the arrival of the caravan at Antakia, our traveller, desirous of

studying the manners of all ranks of men, took up his quarters in the

khan of the muleteers, where, from a suspicion that he was a Frank in

disguise, he was subjected to numerous indignities. The aga’s dragoman,

some wretched Frenchman or Piedmontese, being sent by his master to

discover the truth, and failing to effect his purpose by any other

means, determined, as a last resource, on pulling him by the beard, and

at the same time asked him familiarly why he had suffered such a thing

to grow? To this Burckhardt replied by striking him on the face, which

turned the laugh against the poor dragoman, and was an argument so

peculiarly Mohammedan that it seems to have convinced the bystanders of

the truth of his assertions.

After a delay of four days he continued his journey with the caravan,

with the motley members of which he was compelled to maintain an

unceasing struggle in defence of his assumed character; a circumstance

which proves one of two things, either that the Saonees of the west

have by intercourse with Europeans been rendered more acute in

discovering impostors, than the Shiahs of Afghanistan and Northern

Persia, or that Burckhardt was hitherto somewhat unskilful in his

movements; for the reader will no doubt remember that Forster, when he

professed Mohammedanism, had much fewer suspicions to combat on his way

through Central Asia.

On his arrival at Aleppo, he determined, in pursuance of the advice

of Mr. Barker, to put off his Mohammedan disguise, though he still

retained the Turkish dress; and with the aid of an able master,

recommenced the study of the Arabic, both literal and vulgar. He was

attacked, however, shortly after his arrival, by a strong inflammatory

fever, which lasted a fortnight; and was occasioned, as he conjectured,

by the want of sleep, of which blessing he had been deprived by the

prodigious colonies of that “friendly beast to man” which, according

to Sir Hugh Evans, “signifies love,” which had established themselves

in his garments during his stay at the khan of Antakia. When this

seasoning was over, his health appeared to be improved, and he found

the climate finer and more salubrious than he had expected.

During his stay in this city, which was a very protracted one,

Burckhardt laboured assiduously in fitting himself for the honourable

performance of the task he had undertaken. His Arabic studies were

uninterrupted. Besides seizing eagerly on every opportunity of

improving himself by conversation with the natives, he laboured at

an attempt to transform “Robinson Crusoe” into an Arabian tale. He

moreover succeeded in making the acquaintance of several sheïkhs, and

other literary men, who honoured him occasionally with a visit; a

favour, he says, which he owed principally to Mr. Wilkins’s “Arabic

and Persian Dictionary.” The ordinary lexicons of the country being

very defective, the learned Turks were often obliged to have recourse

to Wilkins, whose learning and exactness sometimes compelled them to

exclaim, “How wonderful that a Frank should know more of our language

than our first ulmas!”

In the month of July, 1810, Burckhardt departed from Aleppo under

the protection of an Arab sheïkh, of the Aenezy tribe, who undertook

to escort him to Palmyra, and thence through the Haurān to Damascus.

On the way they were attacked, while the sheïkh was absent at a

watering-place, by the hostile Marváli Arabs, by whom our traveller

was robbed of his watch and compass; after which he pushed on into the

desert to rejoin the chief. Contrary to the well-known faith of the

Arabs, this man transferred to another the protection of his guest,

thereby exposing him to be robbed a second time, at Palmyra, where the

bandit in authority, finding that he had no money, contented himself

with seizing upon his saddle. Returning from these ruins, he found at

Yerud a letter from the sheïkh, forbidding him to proceed towards the

Haurān, because, as the writer asserted, the invasion of the Wahabis

had rendered that portion of the country unsafe, even to himself and

his Arabs. In consequence of this fraudulent conduct of the sheïkh,

for the excuse was a fiction, he found himself necessitated to take

the road to Damascus; disappointed in part, but upon the whole well

satisfied with having beheld those magnificent ruins in the desert

which have charmed so many strangers, and with having at the same time

enjoyed so many occasions of observing the Bedouins under their own

tents, where he was everywhere received with hospitality and kindness.

The rich and well-cultivated environs of Damascus, which all

travellers, from Mohammed to the present day, have admired, appeared to

great advantage to the eye of Burckhardt, accustomed to be sickened by

the signs of misery which surround Aleppo. “The unsettled state of the

government of Damascus,” says he, “obliged me to prolong my stay there

for upwards of six weeks. I again left it in the middle of September,

to visit Baalbec and Libanus. My route lay through Zahle, a small but

prosperous town on the western side of the valley Bekan, the ancient

Cœlosyria, and from thence to Baalbec, where I remained three days;

then to the top of the Libanus, the Cedars, and Kannobin, from whence,

following the highest summits of the mountain, I returned to Zahle by

the villages called Akoura and Afki.”

After proceeding southward to the territory of the Druses, and Mount

Hermon, he returned to Damascus; whence, after a short stay, he made an

excursion into the Haurān, the patrimony of Abraham, which four years

before had been in part visited by Dr. Seetzen, previous to his tour

round the Dead Sea. “During a fatiguing journey of twenty-six days,”

says Burckhardt, “I explored this country as far as five days’ journey

to the south and south-east of Damascus; I went over the whole of the

Jebel Haurān, or mountain of the Druses, who have in these parts a

settlement of about twenty villages; I passed Bozra, a place mentioned

in the books of Moses, and not to be confounded with Boostra; I then

entered the desert to the south-east of it, and returned afterward to

Damascus through the rocky district on the foot of the Jebel Haurān,

called El Leja. At every step I found vestiges of ancient cities; saw

the remains of many temples, public edifices, and Greek churches; met

at Shohbe with a well-preserved amphitheatre, at other places with

numbers of still standing columns, and had opportunities of copying

many Greek inscriptions, which may serve to throw some light upon the

history of this almost forgotten corner. The inscriptions are for

the greater part of the lower empire, but some of the most elegant

ruins have their inscriptions dated from the reigns of Trajan and M.

Aurelius. The Haurān, with its adjacent districts, is the spring and

summer rendezvous of most of the Arab tribes, who inhabit in winter

time the great Syrian desert, called by them El Hammad. They approach

the cultivated lands in search of grass, water, and corn, of which last

they buy up in the Haurān their yearly provision.”

Having to a certain extent satisfied his curiosity respecting this

obscure country, he returned by way of Homs and Hamah towards Aleppo,

where he arrived on the New-year’s day of 1811. He now meditated an

excursion into the desert towards the Euphrates, but was for some time

prevented from putting his design in execution by the troubled state

of the country, two powerful Arab tribes, the one inimical, the other

friendly to the Aleppines, having been for many months at war with each

other. Burckhardt at length succeeded, however, in placing himself

under the protection of the Sheïkh of Sukhne, and set out towards the

desert: but his own account of this journey was lost, and all that can

now be known of it is to be gathered from a letter from Mr. Barker,

the celebrated British consul at Aleppo, to whose princely hospitality

so many travellers of all nations have been indebted. “One hundred and

twenty, or one hundred and fifty miles below the ruins of Membigeh, in

the Zor,” says this gentleman, “there is a tract on the banks of the

Euphrates possessed by a tribe of very savage Arabs. Not far from them

is the village of Sukhne, at the distance of five days from Aleppo, and

of twelve hours from Palmyra, in the road which Zenobia in her flight

took to gain the Euphrates. The people of Sukhne are sedentary Arabs,

of a breed half Fellah and half Bedouin. They bring to Aleppo alkali

and ostrich feathers. It was upon one of these visits of the Sheïkh of

Sukhne to Aleppo, that Burckhardt, after some negotiation, resolved to

accept the protection of the sheïkh, who undertook, upon their arrival

at his village, to place him under the protection of a Bedouin of

sufficient influence to procure him a safe passage through the tribes

of the country which he wished to explore. Burckhardt had reason to be

satisfied both with the Sheïkh of Sukhne, and with the Arab whom he

procured as an escort, except that, in the end, the protection of the

latter proved insufficient. The consequence was, that poor Burckhardt

was stripped to the skin, and he returned to Sukhne, his body blistered

with the rays of the sun, and without having accomplished any of the

objects of his journey. It was in this excursion to the desert that

Burckhardt had so hard a struggle with an Arab lady, who took a fancy

to the only garment which the delicacy or compassion of the men had

left him.”

After his return from this unfortunate journey, Burckhardt was delayed

for a considerable time at Aleppo by incessant rains; but at length,

on the 14th of February, he bade this city a final adieu, and hastened

once more to Damascus. He was desirous, before quitting Syria, of

performing another journey in the Haurān. This he completed, and

having transmitted to England an account of his discoveries in this

extraordinary region, he departed on the 18th of June for the Dead Sea.

The reader will not, I imagine, be displeased to find the description

of this journey given in the author’s own words: having reached

Nazareth, “I met here,” says he, “a couple of petty merchants from

Szalt, a castle in the mountains of Balka, which I had not been able

to see during my late tour, and which lies on the road I had pointed

out to myself for passing into the Egyptian deserts. I joined their

caravan; after eight hours’ march, we descended into the valley of the

Jordan, called El Gor, near Bysan; crossed the river, and continued

along its verdant banks for about ten hours, until we reached the

river Zerka, near the place where it empties itself into the Jordan.

Turning then to our left, we ascended the eastern chain, formerly part

of the district of Balka, and arrived at Szalt, two long days’ journey

from Nazareth. The inhabitants of Szalt are entirely independent of

the Turkish government; they cultivate the ground for a considerable

distance round their habitations, and part of them live the whole year

round in tents, to watch their harvests and to pasture their cattle.

Many ruined places and mountains in the district of Balka preserve

the names of the Old Testament, and elucidate the topography of the

province that fell to the share of the tribes of Gad and Reuben. Szalt

is at present the only inhabited place in the Balka, but numerous Arab

tribes pasture there their camels and sheep. I visited from thence

the ruins of Amān, or Philadelphia, five hours and a half distant

from Szalt. They are situated in a valley on both sides of a rivulet,

which empties itself into the Zerka. A large amphitheatre is the most

remarkable of these ruins, which are much decayed, and in every respect

inferior to those of Jerash. At four or five hours south-east of Amān

are the ruins of Om Erresas and El Kotif, which I could not see,

but which, according to report, are more considerable than those of

Philadelphia. The want of communication between Szalt and the southern

countries delayed my departure for upwards of a week; I found at last

a guide, and we reached Kerek in two days and a half, after having

passed the deep beds of the torrents El Wale and El Mojeb, which I

suppose to be the Nahaliel and Arnon. The Mojeb divides the district of

Balka from that of Kerek, as it formerly divided the Moabites from the

Amorites. The ruins of Eleale, Hesebon, Meon, Medaba, Dibon, Arver, all

situated on the north side of the Arnon, still subsist to illustrate

the history of the Beni Israel. To the south of the wild torrent Mojeb

I found the considerable ruins of Rabbab Moab: and, three hours’

distance from them, the town of Kerek, situated at about twelve hours’

distance to the east of the southern extremity of the Dead Sea....

“The treachery of the Sheïkh of Kerek, to whom I had been particularly

recommended by a grandee of Damascus, obliged me to stay at Kerek above

twenty days. After having annoyed me in different ways, he permitted me

to accompany him southward, as he had himself business in the mountains

of Djebal, a district which is divided from that of Kerek by the deep

bed of the torrent El Ahhsa, or El Kahary, eight hours’ distance

from Kerek. We remained for ten days in the villages to the north

and south of El Ansa, which are inhabited by Arabs, who have become

cultivators, and who sell the produce of their fields to the Bedouins.

The sheïkh, having finished his business, left me at Beszeyra, a

village about sixteen hours south of Kerek, to shift for myself, after

having maliciously recommended me to the care of a Bedouin, with whose

character he must have been acquainted, and who nearly stripped me of

the remainder of my money. I encountered here many difficulties, was

obliged to walk from one encampment to another, until I found at last

a Bedouin who engaged to carry me to Egypt. In his company I continued

southward, in the mountains of Shera, which are divided to the north

from Djebal by the broad valley called Ghoseyr, at about five hours’

distance from Beszeyra. The chief place in Djebal is Tafyle, and in

Shera the castle of Shobak. This chain of mountains is a continuation

of the eastern Syrian chain, which begins with the Antilibanus, joins

the Jebel el Sheïkh, forms the valley of Ghor, and borders the Dead

Sea. The valley of Ghor is continued to the south of the Dead Sea; at

about sixteen hours’ distance from the extremity of the Dead Sea its

name is changed into that of Araba, and it runs in almost a straight

line, declining somewhat to the west as far as Akaba, at the extremity

of the eastern branch of the Red Sea. The existence of this valley

appears to have been unknown to ancient as well as modern geographers,

although it is a very remarkable feature in the geography of Syria

and Arabia Petræa, and is still more interesting for its productions.

In this valley the manna is still found; it drops from the sprigs of

several trees, but principally from the Gharrab. It is collected by

the Arabs, who make cakes of it, and who eat it with butter; they call

it Assal Beyrook, or the honey of Beyrook. Indigo, gum-arabic, and the

silk-tree, called Asheyr, whose fruit encloses a white silky substance,

of which the Arabs twist their matches, grow in this valley.”

In this valley, about two long days’ journey north-east of Akaba, is a

small rivulet, near the banks of which Burckhardt discovered the ruins

of a city, which he conjectured to be those of Petra, the capital of

Arabia Petræa. No other European traveller had ever visited the spot,

though few places in Western Asia seem more curious or deserving of

examination. The red rocks composing the flanks of the valley contained

upwards of two hundred and fifty sepulchral chambers, adorned with

Grecian ornaments. Besides these there were numerous mausolea, some in

the Egyptian style, with obelisks, others in the chaste manner of the

Greeks; and among the latter there was one in perfect preservation,

and of vast dimensions, with all its apartments, its vestibule, its

peristyle, &c. cut out in the solid rock. On the summit of the mountain

which forms the western boundary of the valley is the tomb of Aaron,

which the Arabs, who are great Scriptural antiquarians, hold in

extraordinary veneration. Our traveller, however, to his great regret,

was necessitated to abandon to some more fortunate visiter the thorough

examination of this interesting region, at which circumstances allowed

him merely to cast a glance as he was hurrying along with his Bedouin

conductor towards the Red Sea. In proceeding from this place towards

Akaba he encountered a small party of Arabs who were conducting a few

camels for sale to Cairo, and uniting himself to this little caravan,

performed the remainder of the journey in their company. “We crossed

the valley of Araba,” says he, “ascended on the other side of it the

barren mountains of Beyane, and entered the desert called El Tih,

which is the most barren and horrid tract of country I have ever seen;

black flints cover the chalky or sandy ground, which in most places is

without any vegetation. The tree which produces the gum-arabic grows

in some spots; and the tamarisk is met with here and there; but the

scarcity of water forbids much extent of vegetation, and the hungry

camels are obliged to go in the evening for whole hours out of the road

in order to find some withered shrubs upon which to feed. During ten

days’ forced marches we passed only four springs or wells, of which one

only, at about eight hours east of Suez, was of sweet water. The others

were brackish and sulphureous. We passed at a short distance to the

north of Suez, and arrived at Cairo by the pilgrim road.”

On his arrival at Cairo, Burckhardt’s first employment was to draw up a

detailed account of his journey through Arabia Petræa: he then turned

his attention to the means of fulfilling the great design of his

mission; but no opportunity of penetrating into the interior of Africa

occurring, he undertook, in order to fill up the interval thus created,

a journey into Nubia. During his residence at Cairo, and on his journey

up the Nile to Assouan, he beheld the principal ruins of Egypt. His

preparations for the Nubian excursion were soon made. He purchased two

dromedaries, one for himself and the other for his guide, for about

twenty-two pounds; provided himself with letters of recommendation,

and a firman from the pasha; and leaving his servant and baggage at

Assouan, set out with his guide on the 14th of February, 1813, carrying

along with him nothing but a gun, a sabre, a pistol, a provision-bag,

and a woollen mantle, which served by day for a carpet, and for a

covering during the night.

Their road lay along the eastern bank of the Nile; they passed Philæ

(where, a few days before, a pregnant woman had been killed in a fray,

as the softer sex always mix in the battles in which their husbands are

engaged, which had created a deadly feud between the hostile villages);

and then pushed on with rapidity towards Derr. The Mameluke chiefs,

with their desperate followers, were at this period roaming about

Nubia, amusing their imaginations with vain projects for the recovery

of Egypt.--Every person coming from the north was of course an object

of curiosity, if not of suspicion, to these baffled soldiers, as it

was possible he might be the bearer of tidings of events upon the

results of which their fate depended. Such was the state of things when

Burckhardt entered Nubia. Everywhere reports calculated to create alarm

were circulated. To-day it was said that the Mamelukes had descended,

like famished tigers, from the mountains, and were about to deliver up

the whole country to plunder and devastation; to-morrow they appeared

to have passed away, like a thunder-cloud, towards Dongola and the

desert, leaving behind them that sort of uneasy satisfaction with which

we behold the quelling of unruly elements.

Burckhardt arrived at Derr on the 1st of March, and, to his surprise,

found two Mameluke beys at the palace of the governor. He had

reckoned upon their utter disappearance, and had intended, under

these circumstances, to represent himself as the secret agent of

the Pasha of Egypt; but learning, upon inquiry, that the pasha and

his enemies were regarded with nearly equal dread by the Nubian

princes, he changed his resolution, and professed to be guided in his

motions by no other motive than pleasure. Ignorant persons find it

hard to conceive that men can expose themselves to difficulties and

dangers from an enthusiasm for knowledge, or can find pleasure in

encountering hardships and fatigue; however, a concurrence of fortunate

circumstances extorted from the governor a permission to proceed, and

accordingly, having provided himself with provisions for the road, our

traveller departed for Sukkot.

His guide on the present occasion was an old Arab of the Ababde tribe.

The branch of the Ababde to which this man, whose name was Mohammed,

belonged, feed their flocks on the uninhabited banks of the river, and

on its numerous islands, as far south as Dongola. Though poor, they

refuse to bestow their daughters, who are famed for their beauty, in

marriage on the rich Nubians, and have thus preserved the purity of

their race. They are, moreover, an honest and hospitable race, and

during his journeys in Nubia, Burckhardt was constantly received and

treated with kindness by these simple people.

In pursuing his course up the Nile, our traveller passed a day at

Ibrim, a town inhabited by Turks, where, though quarrels and bloodshed

were frequent, property was more secure than in any other town he

had visited in the eastern world; the corn was left all night in the

field, and the cattle on the banks of the river, unwatched, and even

the greater part of the household furniture remained all night under

the palm-trees around their dwellings. Indeed, theft was here quite

unknown. Proceeding a short distance to the south of this town, he

dismounted from his dromedary, and directing his guide to continue his

road to the next village, struck off into a narrow footpath along the

lofty, precipitous shores of the river. Pursuing this mountain-track

he arrived at an ancient temple hewn out of the rock, in as perfect a

state of preservation as when first finished. Sepulchral chambers and

mystic sculptures, the usual accompaniments of Egyptian temples, were

found here.

The reception which our traveller and his guide met with at the Nubian

villages was generally hospitable; as soon as they alighted a mat was

spread for them upon the ground, just before the door of the house,

which none but intimate friends are permitted to enter; dhourra bread,

milk, and sometimes dates were placed before the strangers, and their

host, if earnestly pressed, sat down with them. Straw, when plentiful,

was likewise given to their camels; and when the host desired to be

particularly hospitable, a breakfast of hot milk and bread was served

up before their departure in the morning.

At length, on the 6th of March, they arrived on a sandy plain,

sprinkled with rocky points, which thrust up their heads through the

sand that concealed their bases. Here they encamped in the evening near

one of the islands which are formed by the river. The noise of the

cataract was heard in the night, at about half an hour’s distance. The

place is very romantic: when the inundation subsides, many small lakes

are left among the rocks; and the banks of these, overgrown with large

tamarisks, have a picturesque appearance amid the black and green

rocks; the lakes and pools thus formed cover a space of upwards of two

miles in breadth.

The Arabs who serve as guides through these wild districts “have

devised,” says Burckhardt, “a singular mode of extorting small presents

from the traveller: they alight at certain spots, and beg a present;

if it is refused, they collect a heap of sand, and mould it into the

form of a diminutive tomb, and then placing a stone at each of its

extremities, they apprize the traveller that his tomb is made; meaning

that henceforward there will be no security for him in this rocky

wilderness. Most persons pay a trifling contribution rather than have

their graves made before their eyes; there were, however, several tombs

of this description dispersed over the plain. Being satisfied with my

guide, I gave him one piastre, with which he was content.”

On his arriving in the territory of Sukkot, he presented the letter to

the governor of which he was the bearer; and received from this old

savage a scrap of paper, containing an introduction to his son, who was

the chief of the southern part of the district. Here the guide, who

had been granted him at Derr, reached the extremity of his commission,

and announced his intention of returning from thence; four piastres,

however, overcame his determination, and he agreed to proceed to

Mahass: “If Hassan Kashif,” said he, “upbraids me, I shall tell him

that you rode on, notwithstanding my exhortations, and that I did not

think it honourable to leave you alone.” An admirable custom prevails

in this and every other part of Nubia: water-jars are placed under a

low roof at short distances by the roadside, where the traveller may

always quench his thirst; and every village pays a small monthly sum to

some person to fill those jars morning and evening. The same thing is

practised upon a much larger scale in Upper Egypt.

Upon Burckhardt’s reaching the Mahass territory, he suddenly found

himself in the midst of the worst description of savages. The governor,

a ferocious black, received him in a hut, furiously intoxicated, and

surrounded by numerous followers in the same condition. In the midst

of their drunken mirth they called for their muskets, and amused

themselves with firing in the hut. Burckhardt every moment expected

that a random ball would put an end to his travels; but the palm wine

at length extended the whole of this atrocious rabble upon the ground,

and next morning, when sleep had somewhat restored the tone of the

governor’s senses, he found time to question our traveller respecting

the motives of his visit. The story which he related to them was not

believed: “You are an agent of Mohammed,” said they; “but at Mahass we

spit at Mohammed Ali’s beard, and cut off the heads of those who are

enemies to the Mamelukes.” These suspicions, although they produced no

immediate injury to his personal safety, entirely put a stop to his

progress farther south; for he was now within two days and a half of

the limits of Dongola, where the Mamelukes were lords paramount, and to

enter their territories with the character of an agent of Mohammed Ali

would be to court certain death. He therefore turned his face towards

the north, and travelled with all possible celerity along the eastern

bank of the Nile, until he arrived at Kolbe, where he swam across the

river, holding by his camel’s tail with one hand, and urging on the

beast with the other.

Burckhardt now descended the Nile to Ipsambol, the vast rocky temple

of which he supposed to be of extremely ancient date. He here found

four colossal statues of enormous magnitude, which had been hewn

out of the rock, on the face of an elevated cliff, with their backs

adhering to the precipice. The fine sand of the desert had been blown

up into mounds against the rock, and covered two of these statues

almost entirely; the rest rose somewhat above the surface. The faces

of these colossal statues are turned towards the north. “The head,

which is above the surface,” says he, “has a most expressive youthful

countenance, approaching nearer to the Grecian model of beauty than

that of any ancient Egyptian figure I have seen; indeed, were it not

for a thin, oblong beard, it might well pass for a head of Pallas.”

From Ipsambol he continued his journey to Mosmos and Derr, where he

parted with his guide, who, on taking his leave, begged as a present

the mellaye, or cloak, which our traveller usually wore. To this

request Burckhardt replied, “May God smooth your path!”--a phrase

usually addressed to beggars, when they are civilly told to be gone.

“No,” said the Arab, who had often employed this phrase when he desired

to elude the questions of the traveller, “for once I will beg you to

smooth it.” “So,” says Burckhardt, “I gave him the mellaye, and a small

present in money; and am confident that Abou Saad will never forget me.”

On his return to Assouan, Burckhardt’s first care was to repair, by

repose, the inroads which fatigue had made upon his constitution. He

then repaired to Esne, where he established his head-quarters. It being

his policy to excite but little attention, he very seldom went into

company, dressed meanly, and reduced his expenditure to the lowest

possible sum. The cheapness of provisions was incredible. His whole

expenditure for himself, his servant, his dromedary, and his ass not

exceeding one shilling and sixpence per day, while his horse cost him

no more than sixteen pence per month.

Here he remained until the 2d of March, 1814, when he joined himself,

as a petty trader, to another caravan, which was proceeding from Deraou

to Berber. The caravan, consisting of about fifty merchants, with their

slaves and beasts, moved under the protection of about thirty Ababde

Arabs, who, though no heroes or philosophers, were not remarkably

deficient either in courage or humanity. Burckhardt was a man more apt

to blame than praise. If an individual performed a generous action,

he generally evinced a disposition to attribute it to some selfish or

mean motive, probably from the opinion that it might be considered

vulgar and unphilosophical to betray a belief in disinterested virtue.

It is to be regretted, however, that he should have indulged in this

unamiable habit of thinking, as nothing more surely tends to awaken the

resentment or suspicion of the reader, who will be led to imagine that

he who constantly misrepresents the motives of men may sometimes, from

unknown causes, be tempted to misrepresent their manners and actions

also. If we do not entertain this opinion of Burckhardt, it is that we

exercise towards him a higher degree of charity than he was accustomed

to exercise towards others.

The march of a caravan through the desert is a magnificent spectacle.

There is a kind of sublime daring in thus venturing upon what seem

to be the secret places of nature; the places whence the simoom, the

hurricane, and the locust-cloud issue forth upon their fatal errands,

and where many tremendous phenomena, peculiar to those dreary regions,

present themselves, at intervals, to the astonished but delighted eye

of the traveller.

Burckhardt, on this occasion, possessed no command over his own

movements. He travelled, halted, ate, slept, in obedience to the

fantasy of the caravan-leaders; who were ignorant, however, that the

humble trader, whom they regarded, at most, with compassion, was at

that moment forming reflections, and bringing observations to maturity,

which were, perhaps for ages, to affect the opinion entertained by

the civilized world of their character and pursuits. Meanwhile the

merchants, who were chiefly engaged in the debasing traffic of slaves,

and, as may be supposed, cherished no respect for any thing but

riches, and the power which commands riches, looked upon their humble

companion with undisguised contempt; for imbecility and ignorance are

of themselves incapable of appreciating intellectual superiority, and

reverence it only when it is exerted for their defence or destruction.

The scorn which our traveller entertained for those miscreants was,

therefore, just. They constantly treated him with contumely, though he

professed a belief in the same law and the same prophets; plundered

his water-skins, or obstructed his filling them at the wells, thus

exposing him to the danger of perishing of thirst; circulated, in the

towns where they stopped, the report that he was a spy; and, in short,

put in practice every art which their dastardly malice and shallow

brains could conceive, in order to disgust him with the trade, and thus

free themselves from a new competitor. But they were slave-dealers: an

epithet which comprises every thing most loathsome and abominable; and

their manners entirely corresponded with their occupation, being marked

by a degree of depravity which language blushes to describe.

At the end of a week’s journey, the caravan arrived at the celebrated

wells of El Haimar, in the vicinity of which they found the tomb of a

Mameluke chief, who died on this spot. “His companions, having enclosed

the naked corpse within low walls of loose stones, had covered it over

with a large block. The dryness of the air had preserved the corpse

in the most perfect state. Looking at it through the interstices of

the stones which enveloped it, it appeared to me a more perfect mummy

than any I had seen in Egypt. The mouth was wide open, and our guide

related that the man had died for want of water, although so near the

wells.” Next day they passed Wady Ollaky, a fine valley, extending

east and west from the Nile to the Red Sea. Here were numerous trees

and excellent pasture; advantages which caused it to be regarded with

peculiar veneration by the Bedouins; and every man, as he traversed it

on his ass or camel, took a handful of dhourra, and threw it on the

ground, as a kind of pious offering to the good genius of the Wady.

On the following day, in crossing Wady El Towashy, or the Valley of

the Eunuch, Burckhardt saw the tomb of that Mahomet Towash whose

body was found on the sands by Bruce, three days after he had been

murdered by his guides. The principal facts in Bruce’s narrative of

this transaction Burckhardt found to be true, but he imagined that

the details of the story must have been “made up.” Nothing can be

conceived more insolent or absurd than this skepticism. Why should it

be supposed that we were to accept the testimony of this young man,

coming from a country where assuredly truth is not more respected than

it is in Britain, and who, compared with Bruce, was an unknown and an

inferior person, before that of an English gentleman, whose education

was conducted with the utmost care, and who, except as a traveller,

was never regarded, I believe, other than as a person of probity and

honour? The principle which teaches the despots of the East to respect

each other’s harems, when, by the chances of war, they fall into their

hands, as Darius’s fell into those of Alexander, should, we think,

be acted upon by travellers, who, unless upon the amplest and most

satisfactory information, should beware of tampering with the integrity

of each other’s characters. The contrary proceeding must, in the end,

be productive of a degree of skepticism which would extinguish all

enthusiasm and enterprise in travellers, who, at this rate, could

expect no better fate than to be denounced as liars by every timid

knave, who, skulking by his own fireside, might be impelled by envy

to rail at those who boldly measure sea and land, and undergo the

extremity of hardships to obtain an honourable reputation.

Burckhardt, however, had acquired the habit of suspecting every thing,

not because he himself could have been guilty of an untruth, for he

was a high-spirited and honourable man, but because he generalized too

hastily. I readily pardon his error, therefore, and trust that his

involuntary injustice may be injurious neither to Bruce’s character,

nor to his own. His picture of what he endured in the course of this

journey is sufficient to account for any little asperity of manner

observable in his travels. “For myself,” says he, in describing what

daily occurred at their halting-places, “I was often driven from the

coolest and most comfortable birth into the burning sun, and generally

passed the midday hours in great distress; for besides the exposure to

heat, I had to cook my dinner, a service which I could never prevail

upon any of my companions, even the poorest servants, to perform for

me, though I offered to let them share my homely fare. In the evening

the same labour occurred again, when fatigued by the day’s journey,

during which I always walked for four or five hours, in order to spare

my ass, and when I was in the utmost need of repose. Hunger, however,

always prevailed over fatigue, and I was obliged to fetch and cut wood,

to light a fire, to cook, to feed the ass, and finally to make coffee,

a cup of which, presented to my Daraou companions, who were extremely

eager to obtain it, was the only means I possessed of keeping them in

tolerable good-humour. A good night’s rest, however, always repaired

my strength, and I was never in better health and spirits than during

this journey, although its fatigues were certainly very great, and much

beyond my expectation. The common dish of all the travellers at noon

was fetyre, which is flour mixed up with water into a liquid paste, and

then baked upon the sadj, or iron plate; butter is then poured over

it, or honey, or sometimes a sauce is made of butter and dried bamyé.

In the evening some lentils are boiled, or some bread is baked with

salt, either upon the sadj or in ashes, and a sauce of bamyé, or onion,

poured over lentils, or upon the bread, after it has been crumbled

into small pieces. Early in the morning every one eats a piece of dry

biscuit, with some raw onions or dates.”

On the 14th of March, on arriving at the Wady el Nabeh, they found the

celebrated wells of that valley insufficient to supply the caravan

until they should reach the rocks of Shigre, and as no water was

anywhere to be found in the intervening space they were reduced to the

greatest perplexity. “Upon such occasions as these,” says Burckhardt,

“every man gives his opinion: and mine was, that we should kill our

thirty-five asses, which required a daily supply of at least fifteen

water-skins, that we should load the camels to the utmost of their

strength with water, and strike out a straight way through the desert

towards Berber, without touching at Shigre; in this manner we might

perform the journey in five forced marches.” This plan the Arabs

refused to follow. They repaired their water-skins and their sandals,

refreshed themselves with bathing in the cool wells, and then set out.

But “it was not without great apprehension,” says our traveller, “that

I departed from this place. Our camels and asses carried water for

three or four days only, and I saw no possibility of escaping from the

dreadful effects of a want of water. In order to keep my ass in good

spirits, I took off the two small water-skins with which I had hitherto

loaded him, and paid one of the Ababdes four dollars to carry four

small water-skins as far as Berber; for I thought that if the ass could

carry me, I might bear thirst for two days at least, but that if he

should break down, I should certainly not be able to walk one whole day

without water in this hot season of the year.”

Notwithstanding all these difficulties and sufferings, our traveller

considered the Nubian desert, at least as far south as Shigre, far

less terrible than that of Syria or Tyh. Trees and water are much

more frequent, and though it be intersected in various directions by

shaggy barren rocks, the more desolate and awful appearance which it

acquires from this circumstance is, in a great measure, compensated for

by its consequent grandeur and variety. “Here,” says the traveller,

“during the whole day’s march, we were surrounded on all sides by lakes

of mirage, called by the Arabs Serab. Its colour was of the purest

azure, and so clear that the shadows of the mountains that bordered

the horizon were reflected on it with the greatest precision, and the

delusion of its being a sheet of water was thus rendered still more

perfect.” This mockwater, however, only served to heighten the terrors

which the scarcity of real water excited. Every man now began to attach

the greatest importance to the small stock he possessed. Burckhardt,

who possessed but two draughts of water in the world, drank the moiety

of it at once, reserving the remainder for the next day; but, observing

the general scarcity, shared the dejection of his companions. At

length, their condition having become nearly desperate, they adopted

the course recommended by the Ababde chief, and despatched ten or

twelve of their companions, mounted on as many camels, to the nearest

part of the Nile, which was not more than five or six hours distant;

but its banks being inhabited in this part by fierce hostile tribes,

nothing but the fear of instant death could have forced them upon this

step. They timed their march in such a manner that they would reach the

banks of the river by night; when they were directed to select some

uninhabited spot, and having there loaded their camels, to return with

all speed. “We passed the evening,” says Burckhardt, “in the greatest

anxiety, for if the camels should not return, we had little hopes

of escape either from thirst or from the sword of our enemies, who,

if they had once got sight of our camels, would have followed their

footsteps through the desert, and would certainly have discovered us.

Many of my companions came in the course of the evening to beg some

water of me, but I had well hidden my treasure, and answered them by

showing my empty skins. We remained the greater part of the night in

silent and sullen expectation of the result of our desperate mission.

At length, about three o’clock in the morning, we heard the distant

hallooings of our companions; and soon after refreshed ourselves with

copious draughts of the delicious water of the Nile.”

This was the last of their sufferings on this route; on the 23d of

March they entered on a plain with a slight slope towards the river,

which was felt at more than two hours’ distance by the greater moisture

of the air. The Arabs exclaimed, “God be praised, we again smell

the Nile!” and about ten o’clock at night, the caravan entered the

village of Ankhecreh, the principal place in the district of Berber.

Burckhardt’s residence at this place was nothing but one continued

series of annoyance. The principal delight of the whole population,

among whom drunkenness and debauchery were scarcely accounted vices,

seemed to consist in deluding and plundering travellers, who on all the

envenomed soil of Africa could scarcely be exposed to more irritating

insults or extortion than on this spot.

The caravan, now reduced to about two-thirds of its original number,

several of the merchants having returned to Egypt, while others

remained at Berber to dispose of their goods, again put itself in

motion on the 7th of April. Our traveller, who had hitherto attached

himself to the merchant portion of the party, several of whom, previous

to their leaving Egypt, had received benefits at his hands, was here

driven by abuse and contumely to take refuge among the Ababde, who not

only willingly received him as their companion, but exercised their

influence, on more than one occasion, to protect him from violence.

Pursuing a southerly direction for three days, they arrived at the town

of Damer, which, under the government of a number of religious men,

had attained a very high pitch of prosperity. Their sanctity, indeed,

was considerably aided by their skill in magic, which, as Burckhardt

was credibly informed, was so great that, on one occasion, the Faky el

Kebir, or Great Fakir, caused a lamb to bleat in the stomach of the

thief who had stolen, and afterward eaten it. There was no daily market

at Damer, nor was there any thing whatever sold publicly, except on

the weekly market-day. However, as our traveller needed a few measures

of dhourra for his ass, and found it impracticable to purchase less

than a dollar’s worth, which would have been more than he could carry,

he was under the necessity of imitating his companions, and went from

house to house with some strings of beads in his hands, offering them

for sale at about four handfuls of dhourra for each bead. “I gained at

this rate,” says he, “about sixty per cent. above the prime cost, and

had at the same time an opportunity of entering many private houses. I

repeated these walks every day during our stay. One afternoon, while

crying my beads for sale, I was accosted by a faky, who asked me if I

could read. On my answering in the affirmative, he desired me to follow

him to a place where, he said, I might expect to get a good dinner.

He then led me to a house where I found a great number of people,

collected to celebrate the memory of some relative lately deceased.

Several fakies were reading the Koran in a low tone of voice. A great

faky afterward came in, whose arrival was the signal for reciting the

Koran in loud songs, in the manner customary in the East, in which I

joined them. This was continued for about half an hour, until dinner

was brought in, which was very plentiful, as a cow had been killed

upon the occasion. After a hearty meal, we recommenced our reading.

One of the sheïkhs produced a basketful of white pebbles, over which

several prayers were read. These pebbles were destined to be strewed

over the tomb of the deceased in the manner which I had often observed

upon tombs freshly made. Upon my inquiries respecting this custom,

which I confessed to have never before seen practised in any Mohammedan

country, the faky answered that it was a mere meritorious action: that

there was no absolute necessity for it; but that it was thought that

the soul of the deceased, when hereafter visiting the tomb, might be

glad to find these pebbles, in order to use them as beads in addressing

its prayers to the Creator. When the reading was over, the women began

to sing and howl. I then left the room, and on taking my departure my

kind host put some bones of roasted meat in my hand to serve for my

supper.”

In proceeding from this place to Shendy the caravan was accompanied by

several fakies, whose presence was found to be a sufficient protection

against the Nubian Bedouins. They reached Shendy on the 17th of April,

and this being, next to Sennaar and Kobbe, the largest town in eastern

Soudan, they remained here a whole month, during which time Burckhardt

enjoyed an ample opportunity of collecting materials for an account

of this and the neighbouring countries. Crocodiles are numerous in

this part of the Nile. They are much dreaded by the inhabitants, who,

when repairing to its banks for water or to wash their linen, are in

constant fear of these creatures. Burckhardt ate of the crocodile’s

flesh, which he found of a dirty white colour, not unlike young veal,

with a slight fishy smell. To bring its flesh into fashion as an

article of food would be the most certain way of rendering it rare.

At this place Burckhardt abandoned all idea of proceeding farther

south, and, in order to procure himself some little civility from his

former companions, circulated the report that he intended to return

directly to Egypt, where, by describing to the pasha their conduct

towards him during the journey, he might do them considerable injury.

This stratagem succeeded. Their civility and affected friendship now

surpassed their former insolence. In the mean while, understanding that

a caravan was about to set out for Suakin on the Red Sea, our traveller

prevailed on the Ababde chief to introduce and recommend him as his

own friend to its leader. Here he disposed of his merchandise, and

purchased a slave-boy to attend upon him on the road; and having laid

in the necessary quantity of provisions, joined the Suakin caravan, and

departed from Shendy on the 17th of May. “After all my accounts were

settled,” says he, “I had four dollars left; but the smallness of the

sum occasioned me no uneasiness, for I calculated on selling my camel

on the coast for as much as would defray the expenses of my voyage to

Jidda, and I had a letter of credit on that place for a considerable

sum, which I had procured at Cairo.”

The road now traversed by the caravan crossed the Atbara, the Astaboras

of the ancients, on the banks of which they found numerous groves of

trees, and the most luxuriant vegetation. At the sight of this, the

imagination even of the slave-dealers was touched with enthusiasm;

and in alluding to the dreary track over which they had travelled,

one of them exclaimed, “After death comes paradise!” “There was a

greater variety of natural vegetation here than I had seen anywhere

on the banks of the Nile in Egypt. I observed different species of

the mimosa, doom-trees of the largest size, whose luxuriant clusters

of fruit excited the wishes of the slaves, the nebek-tree, with its

fruit ripe; the allobé, of the size of the nebek, besides a great

number of others unknown to me; to these may be added an abundance of

wild herbage, growing on a rich fat soil, similar to that of Egypt.

The trees were inhabited by great numbers of the feathered tribe,

whose song travellers in Egypt very rarely hear. I saw no birds with

rich plumage, but observed small ones of several different kinds. Some

sweet notes struck my ears, which I had never before heard, and the

amorous cooings of the turtle-dove were unceasing. We hastened to the

river, and eagerly descended its low banks to allay our thirst. Several

camels, at the sight of the water, broke the halters by which they were

led, and in rushing or stumbling down the banks threw off their loads,

and occasioned great clamour and disorder.”

In the vicinity of Goz Rajeb, Burckhardt saw on the summit of a hill

the ruins of a huge fabric of ancient times, but was deterred from

visiting it by the assertion of his companions that it was the haunt of

banditti. On the 5th of June, while the caravan halted at an encampment

of Hadendoa Bedouins, Burckhardt beheld the effects of a desert storm:

“Towards evening we were visited by another hurricane, the most

tremendous I ever remember to have witnessed. A dark blue cloud first

appeared, extending to about 25° above the horizon; as it approached

nearer, and increased in height, it assumed an ash-gray colour, with

a tinge of yellow, striking every person in the caravan who had not

been accustomed to such phenomena with amazement at its magnificent

and terrific appearance; as the cloud approached still nearer, the

yellow tinge became more general, while the horizon presented the

brightest azure. At last, it burst upon us in its rapid course, and

involved us in darkness and confusion; nothing could be distinguished

at the distance of five or six feet; our eyes were filled with dust;

our temporary sheds were blown down at the first gust, and many of

the more firmly fixed tents of the Hadendoa followed; the largest

withstood for a time the effects of the blast, but were at last obliged

to yield, and the whole camp was levelled with the ground. In the mean

time the terrified camels arose, broke the cords by which they were

fastened, and endeavoured to escape from the destruction which appeared

to threaten them; thus adding not a little to our embarrassment. After

blowing about half an hour with incessant violence, the wind suddenly

abated, and when the atmosphere became clear, the tremendous cloud was

seen continuing its havoc to the north-west.”

Next day they reached Taka, a district famous for its fertility, where

hares, gazelles, wolves, giraffes, and limes as large, it was said, as

cows, were found in the woods. Hence, after a stay of several days,

they departed for Suakin, and after a not unpleasant journey through a

wild, picturesque country, approached the termination of their toils.

On the morning of the last day they started before sunrise. “The

eastern hills,” says Burckhardt, “terminate in this latitude; and the

sun was just rising beyond them, when we descried its reflection at

an immense distance in the sea, affording a pleasing sight to every

individual in the caravan, but most of all to me.” At length, on the

26th of June, they reached Suakin, and pitched their little sheds at

about twenty minutes’ walk from the town. Next day they were visited

by the emir, who, understanding that our traveller’s camel was an

excellent animal, determined on taking it as a part of the caravan

dues; upon which Burckhardt insisted upon referring their difference

to the Turkish custom-house officer. His wishes were quickly complied

with, but the aga, instead of interfering to protect the stranger,

immediately conceived the idea of uniting with the emir in seizing

upon the whole of his property; and therefore, pretending to regard

him as a Mameluke spy, began at once to overwhelm him with abuse. To

all this Burckhardt returned no reply, but requested the aga to inform

him whether the emir was entitled to his camel. “Not only thy camel,”

replied the Turk, “but thy whole baggage must be taken and searched.

We shall render a good account of them to the pasha, depend upon it.

You shall not impose upon us, you rascal; and you may be thankful if

we do not cut off your head!” Our traveller protested that he was

nothing but an unfortunate merchant, and endeavoured, by a submissive

deportment, to pacify his anger; but “he began cursing and swearing in

Turkish,” says Burckhardt, “and then calling an old cripple, to whom he

had given the title of waly, or police-officer, he ordered him to tie

my hands, to put me in prison, and to bring my slave and baggage into

his presence. I now thought it high time to produce my firmans, which

I drew from a secret pocket in my thaboot; one of them was written in

Turkish, upon a piece of paper two feet and a half in length, and one

foot in breadth, and was sealed with the great seal of Mohammed Aly;

the other, a smaller one, was written in Arabic, and bore the seal of

Ibrahim Pasha, his son, in which Ibrahim termed me ‘Our man, Ibrahim,

the Syrian.’ When Yemak saw the firmans unfolded, he became completely

stupified, and the persons present looked at me with amazement. The

aga could read the Arabic only; but he kissed them both, put them to

his forehead, and then protested to me, in the most submissive terms,

that it was the good of the public service alone that had led him to

treat me as he had done, and for which he begged me a thousand pardons.

Nothing more was said about the emir’s right to my camel, and he

declared that I should pay no duty for my slave, though he was entitled

to it.”

Burckhardt now disposed of his camel, and took his passage to Jidda

in one of the country vessels. After tossing about the Red Sea for

nearly a fortnight, visiting Macouar, and several points of the

African coast, he arrived at Jidda on the 18th of July, 1814. His

first care now was to present his letter of credit, which being of

an old date, however, he was refused payment, though the merchant

offered him a lodging at his house. This he accepted, but removed, two

days afterward, to a public khan, where he was attacked by a fever,

in which he lay delirious for several days. His recovery from this

violent disorder, which he attributed to his indulging in the fine

fruits of the Jidda market, seems to have been chiefly owing to the

kindness of a Greek captain, who, having been his fellow-passenger from

Suakin, attended him during one of his lucid intervals, and, at his own

request, procured a barber, who bled him copiously.

Here our traveller was reduced to the hard necessity of parting

with his slave, for whom he obtained forty-eight dollars, of which

thirty-two were profit. With this he dressed himself in the guise of a

reduced Egyptian gentleman, and determined to remain in the Hejaz until

the time of the pilgrimage in the following November. However, as his

funds were far too low to enable him to live independently until that

period, he began to turn his thoughts towards manual labour; but first

determined upon trying the effect of a direct application to Mohammed

Aly, then at Tayef. He accordingly wrote to his highness’s Armenian

physician, who was likewise at Tayef with his master, requesting him to

learn from the pasha whether he would accept a bill upon Burckhardt’s

correspondent at Cairo, and order his treasurer at Jidda to pay the

amount of it. Before the result of this application could be known,

he received an invitation to the house of Tousoun Pasha’s physician,

who, upon being made acquainted with the state of his finances, kindly

offered him the sum of three thousand piasters (about 100_l._) for a

bill upon Cairo payable at sight. Mohammed Aly, to whom his condition

was accidentally made known, immediately despatched a messenger with

two dromedaries, an order for five hundred piasters, and a request that

he would repair immediately with the same messenger to Tayef. With this

invitation, which was, in fact, equivalent to a command, he thought

it necessary to comply, and accordingly set off on the same afternoon

(24th of August) for the interior of the Hejaz.

They were accompanied during the first portion of the way by about

twenty camel-drivers of the tribe of Harb, who were carrying money to

Mecca for the pasha’s treasury. The road at first lay over a barren

sandy plain, ascending slightly as it receded from the sea; it then

entered the narrow gorges of a mountainous country, where they overtook

a caravan of pilgrims, who were accompanying a quantity of goods and

provisions destined for the army. The pasha, who, no doubt, suspected

the sincerity of our traveller’s creed, had given orders to the guide

to conduct him by a by-road to Tayef, which lay to the north of Mecca:

“Just before we left Hadda,” says Burckhardt, “my guide, who knew

nothing further respecting me than that I had business with the pasha

at Tayef, that I performed all the outward observances of a Moslem

pilgrim, and that I had been liberal to him before our departure, asked

me the reason of his having been ordered to take me by the northern

road. I replied that it was probably thought shorter than the other.

‘That is a mistake,’ he replied; ‘the Mecca road is quite as short,

and much safer; and if you have no objection we will proceed by it.’

This was just what I wished, though I had taken care not to betray any

anxiety on the subject; and we accordingly followed the great road, in

company with the other travellers.”

On this occasion, however, Burckhardt saw but little of the sacred

city, as the guide, who had no curiosity to gratify, hurried through

the streets without allowing him time for observation. Continuing

their journey, therefore, towards the east, they arrived, on the 27th

of August, at Ras el Kora, where they passed the night. “This,” says

our traveller, “is the most beautiful spot in the Hejaz, and more

picturesque and delightful than any spot I had seen since my departure

from Lebanon, in Syria. The top of Jebel Kora is flat, but large masses

of granite lie scattered over it, the surface of which, like that of

the granite rocks near the sacred cataract of the Nile, is blackened by

the sun. Several small rivulets descend from this peak, and irrigate

the plain, which is covered with verdant fields, and large shady trees,

on the side of the granite rocks. To those who have only known the

dreary and scorching sands of the lower country of the Hejaz, this

scene is as surprising as the keen air which blows here is refreshing.

Many of the fruit-trees of Europe are found here; figs, apricots,

peaches, apples, the Egyptian sycamore, almonds, pomegranates; but

particularly vines, the produce of which is of the best quality.”

“After having passed through this delightful district for about half an

hour, just as the sun was rising, when every leaf and blade of grass

was covered with a balmy dew, and every tree and shrub diffused a

fragrance as delicious to the smell as was the landscape to the eye, I

halted near the largest of the rivulets, which, although not more than

two paces across, nourishes upon its banks a green alpine turf, such as

the mighty Nile, with all its luxuriance, can never produce in Egypt.”

Upon his reaching Tayef, he caused his arrival to be made known to

the pasha, who, upon learning his desire to visit the Holy Cities,

expressed a desire to see him late in the evening at his public

residence, and observed jocosely to the Kadhy of Mecca, who happened to

be present, “It is not the beard alone which proves a man to be a true

Moslem; but you are a better judge in such matters than I am.” Our

traveller, on learning these particulars, affected to be much hurt by

the pasha’s suspicions, and let the physician, who was the bearer of

the message, know that he should not go to the pasha’s public audience

unless he was received as a Turk. When the physician delivered this

message, Mohammed Aly smiled, and said that he was welcome, whether

Turk or not. The audience passed off well. But Burckhardt clearly

discovered that he was regarded as a spy of the English government;

that his conduct was narrowly watched; and that, in being made the

guest of the physician, he was a kind of prisoner, all whose words and

actions were reported to the pasha. This was by no means an agreeable

position. He therefore determined to be delivered from it; and, in

order to effect his purpose, adopted the most prudent plan that could

have been imagined: he rendered himself so troublesome and expensive to

his host, that the latter, in order to be freed from him, represented

him in the most favourable light to his master, and contrived to obtain

him permission to spend the last days of the Ramadhan at Mecca.

Accordingly, on the 7th of September, Burckhardt departed in company

with the kadhy for the Holy City. On passing Wady Mohram, he assumed

the _ihram_, the dress worn by all pilgrims during the Hadj, and

consisting of two pieces of linen, woollen, or cotton cloth, one of

which is wrapped round the loins, while the other is thrown over the

neck and shoulders, so as to leave part of the right arm bare. In

this dress he arrived at Mecca, on the 9th of September; and, as the

law enjoins, proceeded immediately to visit the temple, before he had

attended to any worldly concern whatever. The ceremonies practised

on this occasion are long and tedious, the Mohammedans apparently

believing, like our monkish madmen in Europe, that whatever is painful

or disgusting to man must therefore be pleasing to God. Having

completed these absurdities, he hired a ready-furnished lodging in

the house of a metowaf, or guide to the holy places; who, while the

poor hajjî was occupied with his devotions, employed his spare moments

industriously in stealing whatever he could from his travelling-sack.

Being desirous of completing his travelling equipments before the

commencement of the Hadj, Burckhardt now proceeded to Jidda, where

such things are more easily procured than at Mecca, and again returned

about the middle of October, with a slave-boy whom he purchased. He

hired apartments in an unfrequented part of the city, where he enjoyed

the advantage of several large trees growing before his windows, “the

verdure of which,” says he, “among the barren and sunburnt rocks of

Mecca, was to me more exhilarating than the finest landscape could

have been under different circumstances.” The principal curiosity of

Mecca is the Beitullah, or House of God, a species of quadrangle, in

the centre of which stands the Kaaba, “an oblong massive structure,

eighteen paces in length, fourteen in breadth, and from thirty-five

to forty feet in height. It is constructed of the gray Mecca stone,

in large blocks of different sizes, joined together in a very rough

manner, and with bad cement.” “At the north-east corner of the Kaaba,

near the door, is the famous ‘Black Stone;’ it forms a part of the

sharp angle of the building at four or five feet above the ground.

It is an irregular oval of about seven inches in diameter, with an

undulating surface, composed of about a dozen smaller stones of

different sizes and shapes, well joined together with a small quantity

of cement, and perfectly smoothed. It looks as if the whole had been

broken into many pieces by a violent blow, and then united again. It

is very difficult to determine accurately the quality of this stone,

which has been worn to its present surface by the millions of touches

and kisses it has received. It appeared to me like a laver, containing

several small extraneous particles, of a whitish and of a yellowish

substance. Its colour is now a deep reddish brown, approaching to

black: it is surrounded on all sides by a border, composed of a

substance which I took to be a close cement of pitch and gravel, of a

similar, but not quite the same, brownish colour. This border serves to

support its detached pieces; it is two or three inches in breadth, and

rises a little above the surface of the stone. Both the border and the

stone itself are encircled by a silver band, broader below than above,

and on the two sides, with a considerable swelling below, as if a part

of the stone were hidden under it. The lower part of the border is

studded with silver nails.”

I have purposely made use of Burckhardt’s own words in describing

the Black Stone, and several other objects of curiosity, that the

reader may see the exact impressions which they made on the mind

of the traveller; though, as his style is very diffuse, it would

frequently not have been difficult to compress his meaning into a much

smaller compass. I cannot, however, pursue the same course with his

description of the Hadj; which, notwithstanding its interest, is far

too voluminous for the space which I can bestow upon it. On the 21st

of November, 1814, the approach of the Syrian caravan was announced by

a messenger, whose horse dropped down dead the moment he dismounted.

Several other persons followed in about two hours after; and during

the night, the main body, with the Pasha of Damascus at its head, came

up, and encamped in the plain of Sheïkh Mahmoud. Next morning the

Egyptian caravan likewise arrived; and at the same time Mohammed Aly,

who desired to be present at the Hadj, appeared unexpectedly at Mecca,

dressed in an ihram composed of two magnificent shawls of Kashmeer. All

the hajjîs residing in the city now assumed the ihram, with the usual

ceremonies, at their own lodgings, preparatory to their setting out

for Arafat, and at noon heard a short sermon in the mosque.

The city was now full of movement and activity: all the pilgrims were

preparing to set out for Arafat, some running hither and thither

in search of lodgings, others visiting the markets, or the Kaaba.

Many Meccawys, engaged in petty traffic, were hastening to establish

themselves on the mountain, for the accommodation of the pilgrims.

Camel-drivers led their beasts through the streets, offering them to

the pilgrims for hire. On the 24th of November, the Syrian caravan,

with the Mahmal, or sacred camel, in front, passed in procession

through the city. The majority of the pilgrims rode in a species of

palanquin, placed upon their camels; but the Pasha of Damascus, and

other grandees, were mounted in tackhtravans, or splendid litters,

which were borne by two camels. The heads of these picturesque animals

were decorated with feathers, tassels, and bells. Crowds of people of

all classes lined the streets, and greeted the pilgrims as they passed

with loud acclamations and praise. The martial music of the pasha,

twelve finely-caparisoned horses led in front of his tackhtravan,

and the rich litters in which his women rode, particularly attracted

attention. The Egyptian caravan followed soon after, and, consisting

entirely of military pilgrims in the splendid Turkish costume, was no

less admired than its predecessor. Both continued, without stopping,

their march to Arafat, and were almost immediately followed by the

other pilgrims in the city, and by far the greater proportion of the

population of Mecca and Jidda, among whom our traveller likewise

proceeded to the sacred hill.

Burckhardt reached the camp about three hours after sunset. The

pilgrims were still wandering about the plain, and among the tents,

in search of their companions, or of their resting-place, and many

did not arrive until midnight. Numberless fires glimmered upon the

dark plain to the extent of several miles; and high and brilliant

clusters of lamps marked the different places of encampment of Mohammed

Aly, Soleyman Pasha, and the Emir el Hadj of the Egyptian caravan.

Few slept: “the devotees set up praying, and their loud chants were

particularly distinguished on the side of the Syrian encampment. The

merry Meccawys formed themselves into parties, singing jovial songs,

accompanied by clapping of hands; and the coffee-houses scattered over

the plain were crowded all night with customers. The night was dark

and cold. I had formed a resting-place for myself by means of a large

carpet tied to the back of a Meccawy’s tent; and having walked about

for the greater part of the night, I had just disposed myself to sleep,

when two guns, fired by the Syrian and Egyptian Hadj, announced the

approaching dawn of the day of pilgrimage, and summoned the faithful to

prepare for their morning prayers.”

The scene which, on the unfolding of the dawn, presented itself to

the eye of the traveller, was one of the most extraordinary upon

earth. “Every pilgrim issued from his tent to walk over the plains,

and take a view of the busy crowds assembled there. Long streets of

tents, fitted up as bazaars, furnished all kinds of provisions. The

Syrian and Egyptian cavalry were exercised by their chiefs early in

the morning, while thousands of camels were seen feeding upon the dry

shrubs of the plain all round the camp.” Burckhardt now ascended the

summit of Arafat, whence he could enjoy a distant view of the whole,

the mountain being an isolated mass of granite, and reaching the height

of two hundred feet above the level of the plain. From this point he

counted about three thousand tents, but the far greater number were,

like himself, without tents. Twenty or twenty-five thousand camels

were dispersed, in separate groups, over the plain; and the number

of pilgrims of both sexes, and of all classes, could not amount to

less than seventy thousand. “The Syrian Hadj was encamped on the south

and south-west side of the mountain; the Egyptian on the south-east.

Around the house of the Sherif, Yahya himself was encamped with his

Bedouin troops, and in its neighbourhood were all the Hejaz people.

Mohammed Aly, and Soleyman, Pasha of Damascus, as well as several of

their officers, had very handsome tents; but the most magnificent of

all was that of the wife of Mohammed Aly, the mother of Tousoun Pasha

and Ibrahim Pasha, who had lately arrived at Cairo for the Hadj, with a

truly royal equipage, five hundred camels being necessary to transport

her baggage from Jidda to Mecca. Her tent was in fact an encampment,

consisting of a dozen tents of different sizes, inhabited by her

women; the whole enclosed by a wall of linen cloth, eight hundred

paces in circuit, the single entrance to which was guarded by eunuchs

in splendid dresses. Around this enclosure were pitched the tents of

the men who formed her numerous suite. The beautiful embroidery on

the exterior of this linen palace, with the various colours displayed

in every part of it, constituted an object which reminded me of some

descriptions in the Arabian Tales of the Thousand and One Nights.”

Among the prodigious crowd were persons from every corner of the

Mohammedan world. Burckhardt counted forty different languages, and

did not doubt that there were many more. About three o’clock in the

afternoon, the pilgrims, quitting their tents, which were immediately

struck, and mounting their camels, pressed forward towards Mount

Arafat, and covered its sides from top to bottom. The preacher now

took his stand upon the platform on the mountain, and began to address

the multitude. The hearing of the sermon, which lasts till sunset,

constitutes the holy ceremony of the Hadj, and without being present

at it, and at least appearing to hear, no pilgrim is entitled to the

name of hajjî. “The two pashas, with their whole cavalry drawn up in

two squadrons behind them, took their post in the rear of the deep

line of camels of the hajjîs, to which those of the people of the

Hejaz were also joined: and here they waited in solemn and respectful

silence the conclusion of the sermon. Farther removed from the preacher

was the Sherif Yahya, with his small body of soldiers, distinguished

by several green standards carried before him. The two Mahmals, or

holy camels, which carry on their backs the high structure that serves

as the banner of their respective caravans, made way with difficulty

through the ranks of camels that encircled the southern and eastern

sides of the hill, opposite to the preacher, and took their station,

surrounded by their guards, directly under the platform in front of

him. The preacher, or khatyb, who is usually the Kadhy of Mecca, was

mounted upon a finely-caparisoned camel, which had been led up the

steps; it being traditionally said that Mohammed was always seated when

he addressed his followers, a practice in which he was imitated by all

the califs who came to the Hadj, and who from hence addressed their

subjects in person. The Turkish gentleman of Constantinople, however,

unused to camel-riding, could not keep his seat so well as the hardy

Bedouin prophet; and the camel becoming unruly, he was soon obliged to

alight from it. He read his sermon from a book in Arabic, which he held

in his hands. At intervals of every four or five minutes he paused,

and stretched forth his arms to implore blessings from above; while

the assembled multitudes around and before him waved the skirts of

their ihrams over their heads, and rent the air with shouts of _Lebeyk,

Allah, huma Lebeyk!_--“Here we are at thy bidding, O God!” During the

wavings of the ihrams, the side of the mountain, thickly crowded as

it was by the people in their white garments, had the appearance of

a cataract of water; while the green umbrellas, with which several

thousand hajjîs, sitting on their camels below, were provided, bore

some resemblance to a verdant plain.”

Burckhardt was present at all the remaining ceremonies of the Hadj,

which I shall not now pause to describe; and after observing whatever

was worthy of examination both at Mecca and Jidda, he joined a small

caravan of pilgrims who were going to visit the tomb of the prophet,

and set out for Medina on the 15th of January, 1815. During this

journey he imprudently advanced before the caravan, and was attacked

by five Bedouins, from whom he was quickly delivered, however, by the

approach of his companions. They reached Medina on the 28th of January.

The ceremonies practised in this city were much less tedious than at

Mecca, and did not occupy our traveller more than a quarter of an hour.

Here, shortly after his arrival, he was attacked by an intermittent

fever, accompanied by extraordinary despondency. His condition, indeed,

was well calculated to inspire gloomy thoughts; for he had no society,

and but one book, which was, however, as he observes, worth a whole

shelf full of others. This was a pocket edition of Milton, which he had

borrowed from an English ship at Jidda.

Medina, it is well known, is chiefly indebted to the tomb of Mohammed

for its celebrity. This mausoleum, which stands on the south-eastern

corner of the principal mosque, is protected from the too near approach

of visiters by an iron railing, painted green, about two-thirds the

height of the pillars of the colonnade which runs round the interior

of the mosque. “The railing is of good workmanship, in imitation

of filligree, and is interwoven with open-worked inscriptions of

yellow bronze, supposed by the vulgar to be of gold, and of so close

a texture, that no view can be obtained of the interior except by

several small windows about six inches square, which are placed in

the four sides of the railing, about five feet above the ground.” On

the south side, where are the two principal windows, before which

the devout stand when praying, the railing is plated with silver,

and the common inscription--“There is no God but God, the Evident

Truth”--is wrought in silver letters round the windows. The tomb

itself, as well as that of Abu Bekr and Omar, which stand close to it,

is concealed from the public gaze by a curtain of rich silk brocade of

various colours, interwoven with silver flowers and arabesques, with

inscriptions in characters of gold running across the midst of it,

like that of the covering of the Kaaba. Behind this curtain, which,

according to the historian of the city, was formerly changed every six

years, and is now renewed by the Porte whenever the old one is decayed,

or when a new sultan ascends the throne, none but the chief eunuchs,

the attendants of the mosque, are permitted to enter. This holy

sanctuary once served, as the temple of Delphi did among the Greeks, as

the public treasury of the nation. Here the money, jewels, and other

precious articles of the people of the Hejaz were kept in chests, or

suspended on silken ropes. Among these was a copy of the Koran in Kufic

characters; a brilliant star set in diamonds and pearls, which was

suspended directly over the prophet’s tomb; with all sorts of vessels

set with jewels, earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and other ornaments,

sent as presents from all parts of the empire. Most of these articles

were carried away by the Wahabees when they sacked and plundered the

sacred cities.

On the 21st of April, 1815, Burckhardt quitted Medina with a small

caravan bound for Yembo, on the seacoast. His mind was still

exceedingly depressed by the weak state of his body; and his gayety

and animal spirits, with the energy which accompanies them in ardent

minds, having deserted him, the world assumed in his eyes a sombre

aspect, which rendered travelling and every other pleasure insipid.

All he now sighed for was rest. This mental condition seems strongly

to have affected even his opinions. His views both of men and things

became cynical. Vice seemed to have spread like a deluge over the

eastern world, leaving no single spot whereon Virtue might rest the

sole of her foot. “For my own part,” says he, “_a long residence_ among

Turks, Syrians, and Egyptians _justifies me in declaring that they

are wholly deficient in virtue, honour, and justice_; that they have

_little true piety_, and _still less charity or forbearance_; and that

_honesty_ is only to be found in their _paupers or idiots_.” His mind

was certainly labouring under the effects of his Medina fever when he

wrote this passage, and it would therefore be lost labour to analyze or

confute it minutely. That people who are “wholly deficient in virtue,

honour, and justice” should be destitute of honesty, is no more to be

wondered at than that a black camel should not be half-white; but if

“true piety” be, as most moralists will admit, to be numbered among

the virtues, then the orientals are not, as Mr. Burckhardt asserts,

“_wholly_ deficient in virtue,” &c., since he allows that they have

some, though but little, “true piety.” Again, either the majority of

the orientals are rich, or the majority of them are honest; for if the

majority of them are poor, or paupers, then the majority of them are

honest; for honesty, we are told, is only to be found among paupers and

idiots. It would be easy to expose and refute our traveller’s assertion

by the direct testimony of persons still more competent than he to

decide on such points; but his opinion is palpably absurd, like most

others formed by sick or gloomy individuals, since no society could

subsist if formed entirely of vicious members. Had Burckhardt himself

lived to see his works through the press, such passages as the above

would, I am persuaded, have been expunged or modified; for he was much

too judicious deliberately to have hazarded so monstrous an assertion.

Upon his arrival at Yembo, dejected and melancholy, to add to his

despondency, he found the plague raging in the city. The air, night and

day, was filled with the piercing cries of those who had been bereaved

of the objects of their affection; yet, as no vessel was ready to

sail for Egypt, he was constrained to remain during eighteen days in

the midst of the dying and the dead, continually exposed to infection

through the heedlessness and the imprudence of his slave. At length,

however, he procured a passage in an open boat bound for Cosseir, many

of the passengers in which were sick of a disease which appeared to

be the plague, though only two of them died. After remaining twenty

days on board, he was, at his own request, put on shore in the harbour

of Sherin, at the entrance of the Gulf of Akaba, where he agreed with

some Bedouins to transport him and his slave to Tor and Suez. Learning

on the way, however, that the plague was at Suez, he remained at a

village in the vicinity of the former place, where the enjoyment of

tranquillity and a bracing mountain air soon restored his strength,

and enabled him, though still convalescent, to pursue his journey to

Cairo, where he arrived on the 24th of June, after an absence of nearly

two years and a half. As his health was not yet completely recovered,

he undertook a journey into Lower Egypt during the following winter,

which, as he seems to have believed, restored his constitution to its

former tone.

His time was now entirely occupied in writing the journal of his

Nubian and Arabian travels, and in the necessary care of his health,

which, notwithstanding his sanguine expectation to the contrary, was

still in a somewhat equivocal state. In the spring of 1816 the plague

again broke out at Cairo, and our traveller, to avoid the infection,

undertook a journey to Mount Sinai, intending to remain, until the

pestilence should be over, among the Bedouins, who are never visited by

this scourge. During this excursion he traced the course of the eastern

branch of the Red Sea to within sight of Akaba, the ancient Ælanas,

which he was prevented by circumstances from visiting. On his return

to Cairo, he united with Mr. Salt in furnishing Belzoni with money for

transporting the head of Memnon from Gournou to Alexandria. The scheme,

it would seem, originated with Burckhardt and Salt, to whom, therefore,

we are chiefly indebted for the possession of that extraordinary

specimen of ancient art.

On the 4th of October, 1817, Burckhardt, who had so long waited in

vain for an opportunity of penetrating with a Moggrebin caravan into

Africa, was attacked with violent dysentery. The best medical advice

which an eminent English physician (Doctor Richardson), then at Cairo,

could afford was found unavailing. The disease prevailed, and on the

15th of the same month our able, adventurous, and lamented traveller

breathed his last. As he had lived while in the East as a Mussulman,

the Turks, he foresaw, would claim his body, “and perhaps,” said

he to Mr. Salt, who was present at his death-bed, “you had better

let them.”--“The funeral, as he desired,” says this gentleman, “was

Mohammedan, conducted with all proper regard to the respectable rank

which he had held in the eyes of the natives.” This was honourable

to his Cairo friends; and to those who are interested in the history

of his manly career it is gratifying to discover how highly he was

valued. I have closed the lives of few travellers with more regret.

It would have given me extreme pleasure to have followed him through

those undiscovered regions whither his ardent imagination so anxiously

tended; and, instead of thus recording his untimely death, to have

beheld him enjoying in the first capital of the world the reward

of his courage and enterprise. That I cannot enter into all Mr.

Burckhardt’s views, either of men or things, is no reason why I should

not be sensible of his extraordinary merit. His character, upon the

whole, admirably fitted him to be a great traveller. He was bold,

patient, persevering, judicious. He penetrated with admirable tact

into the designs of his enemies, and not only knew how to prevent

them, but, what was more difficult, to turn them to the confusion

of their inventors. Upon this very excellence, however, was based

one of his principal defects; he interpreted men in too refined and

systematical a manner, and often saw in their actions more contrivance

than ever existed. He was too hasty, moreover, in believing evil of

mankind, which, with too many other able speculators, he supposed to

be the necessary consequence of a philosophical spirit. But he was a

young man. His mind, had he lived, would unquestionably have purified

itself from this stain, as truth, which he possessed the courage and

the ability to search for with success, was his only object. The

works which he has left behind him, exceedingly numerous considering

his brief career, are an imperishable monument of his genius and

enterprise, and, when the fate of the writer is reflected on, can never

be read without a feeling of deep interest almost amounting to emotion.

Fortunately for his fame, their publication has been superintended

by editors every way qualified for the task, who, without in the

least dissipating their originality, must in very many instances have

infinitely improved their style and arrangement. A popular edition of

the whole would at once be a benefit to the public and an additional

honour to the memory of Burckhardt.