with repressive measures on a big scale and are not concerned about
the individuals who are made to suffer. When they saunter forth with a
few regiments of regular cavalry and a field gun they are sure to
scatter even the biggest _ashiret_ or encampment. The Arab does not
like to stand his ground against gun-fire and never resists an
artillery-attack which he cannot of course return. He does not fear so
much for his own life, as for that of his horse, for a full blooded
mare often makes up the whole wealth of three or four families. Woe to
the horse which with us is owned by three or four masters. With the
Arabs it has as many friends to take care of it.
When the Turks succeed in surprising an _ashiret_ they take away the
herds of sheep and goats, a few camels, and possibly some hostages
whom they keep in miserable bondage. In a small hut or stable of the
serail of Orfa I found nine old men. A heavy chain attached to rings
around their necks fastened the one to the other, and twice daily they
were driven to the watering trough just like cattle. The Turks had
demanded of their tribe the exorbitant ransom of 150,000 piasters, of
which one third had actually been offered. When I saw the old men,
there was little chance of their ever being ransomed at all. The
pasha, however, promised me that he would set them free. I do not know
whether he kept his word.
Such examples do not deter the Arabs, and, as far as their horses are
able to go, no settlement can endure. The entire southern slope of the
Taurus, the ancient Oszoene, is dotted with indications of their
devastation. Here wonderful brooks are flowing from the mountains, and
a superabundant supply of water, a hot and ever bright sky, and a most
fertile soil have combined in creating a paradise, if only men would
not always destroy it. Snow is unknown here, and olive-trees, vines,
mulberry trees, palms and pomegranate trees spring up wherever you
guide a stream of water, however small, while the yield of grain,
rice, and cotton is phenomenal. But of Karrat, now Harran, the seat of
Abraham, only a mound of earth and a few crumbled walls remain. Dara,
the magnificent creation of Justinian, lies in ruins, and on the site
of Nisibin, which had been completely destroyed, Hafiss-Pasha has
built only recently some new cavalry barracks, under whose protection
the city and the surrounding villages have taken a new lease of life.
Orfa and Mossul finally, the only large cities, appear like outposts
of Mesopotamia.
In their robber-expeditions the Arabs have the hope of booty before
them and behind them the assurance of a safe retreat. They alone know
the pasturing grounds and the hidden wells of the desert, they alone
can live in these regions, and do so by the help of the camel. This
animal, which can carry a load of from five hundred to six hundred
pounds, takes all their property, their wives, children, and old men,
their tents, provisions and water from one place to another. It can
make six, eight, even ten days' marches without drinking, and a fifth
stomach keeps a final draft in reserve in case of greatest need. Its
hair is made into garments and cloth for the tents; its urine yields
salt, its droppings are used for fuel and, in caves, are transformed
into saltpeter from which the Arabs make their own gunpowder. The milk
of the camel serves as food not only for the children, but also for
the colts, which grow thin but strong like our horses when they are in
training. Camel meat is tasty and wholesome, and even the skin and the
bones of a camel are good for something. The most wretched feed, dry
grass, thistles and brambles, satisfies this patient, strong, helpless
and most useful of all animals. Next to the camels, which even the
poorest Arab owns in almost incredible numbers, the horses represent
the chief wealth of these children of the desert. It is well known
that these animals grow up in the tents together with the children of
the family with whom they share food, deprivations and hardships, and
that the birth of a colt of fine lineage marks a day of joy in the
whole _ashiret_.
In Europe the Arabian horses are classified according to an erroneous
and incomplete system. I am thinking especially of their division into
_Kohilans_ and _Nedshdis_. This latter name designates the numerous
tribe of Arabs inhabiting the high plateau of the interior of Arabia,
and breeding, it is true, excellent horses. But just as little as
every Arabian horse is full blooded, just as little every _Nedshdi_ is
a _Kohilan_. This is the whole matter: _Kohilan_ was the favorite
horse of Hasaret-Suleiman-Peigamber (His Highness Solomon the
Prophet). It is, moreover, true and no legend that the better horses
receive at birth their family-tree, in which their parents, and often
their grandfathers, are mentioned, and which they carry through life,
generally in a triangular capsule, by a string around their neck. In
the course of centuries several of Kohilan's descendants have so
greatly distinguished themselves that they have become sires of note
in their own name. Among the most notable descendants of Kohilan I
heard mentioned the colts of Meneghi, and next of Terafi, Djelevi,
Sakali, and many more. Mahomet himself rode a Kohilan of the family of
Meneghi on his flight from Medina. You understand, therefore, that not
every Nedshdi has to be full-blooded, and that a Kohilan may be as
well an Aenesi or Shamarly as a Nedshdi.
The Arabs of the race of Shamarr who camp in the country between
the two rivers, and who can muster ten thousand mounted men, had
recently been guilty of many robberies, and had refused to
recognize the new sheikh whom the Porte had appointed over them.
Hafiss-Pasha, therefore, decided to give them a most thorough
chastisement. The pashas of Orfa and of Mardin were to march
against them, and he wanted to have the pasha of Mossul, who is
not under his jurisdiction, do the same. If this had been done,
the Arabs would have been forced back against the Euphrates,
beyond which the Aenesi Arabs live who are hostile to them. But
Indshe-Bairaktar did not fancy an expedition which was expensive
and promised little booty. When finally definite orders came from
the Bagdad-Valesi, the other pashas had already scared away the
enemy, who had disappeared into unknown regions.
After a brief and interesting sojourn, therefore, we decided to return
through the desert with a caravan which was on the point of starting.
Since the Arabs had been greatly incensed by the recent attacks, the
expedition was increased by forty horsemen. We joined it toward
evening in its encampment, about two hours from Mossul, near the
Tigris where everybody wished to have one more last good fill of
water. The _Kyerwan-Bashi,_ or leader of the caravan, whom the pasha
had notified of our arrival, at once made his appearance and had his
tent made ready for us. He also presented us with a goat for supper.
For five days we traversed the _Tsull,_ or desert of northern
Mesopotamia, without seeing any human habitations. You must not think
of this desert as a sea of sand, but as an interminable green plain
with only occasional, very slight undulations. The Arabs call it
_Bahr,_ the sea, and the caravans proceed in an absolutely straight
line, taking their direction from artificial mounts which rise above
the plain like prehistoric graves. They indicate that once upon a time
a village existed here, and that, therefore, a well or a spring must
be nearby. But the mounts often are six, ten or even twelve hours
distant the one from the other. The villages have disappeared, the
wells have gone dry, and the rivulets are bitterly salt. A few weeks
later this green plain which now is nourished by copious daily dews
will be a wild waste parched by the sun. The luxuriant growth of grass
which today reaches to our stirrups will be withered and every
water-course run dry. Then it will be necessary to follow the Tigris
in a wide détour, and none but the ships of the desert, the camels,
will be able to traverse this plain, and they only by night.
Our caravan consists of six hundred camels and four hundred mules. The
big bags carried by the former contain almost exclusively palm-nuts
for the dye houses of Aleppo, and cotton. The more valuable part of
the freight, silk from Bagdad and shawls from Persia, pearls from
Bassora, and good silver money which in Constantinople will be
recoined into bad piasters, is small in proportion to the bulk
carried.
The camels go in strings of from ten to twenty, one behind the other.
The owner rides ahead on a small donkey, and although his stirrups are
short his feet almost touch the ground. He is continually shoving his
pointed slippers into the flanks of his poor beast and placidly
smoking his pipe. His servants are on foot. Unless the donkey leads,
the camels refuse to stir. With long thoughtful strides they move
along, reaching the while with their thin restless necks for thistles
or thorns by the roadside. The mules are walking at a brisk pace.
They are decorated with little bells and beautiful halters gaily set
with shells.
When the caravan has come to the place where the night is to be spent,
the _Kjerwan-Bashi_ canters ahead and designates the exact spot for
the camp. The beasts of burden are unloaded as they arrive, and the
huge bags are placed together as a kind of fortification in the shape
of a quadrangle, within which each one prepares himself a place of
rest. Our tent, which was the only one in the caravan, stood outside
and was given a special guard of _Bashi-Bazouks_. The camels and mules
were turned loose in the high grass where they were expected to look
also for all the water they needed.
As soon as it grows dark the camels, which have roved often at half an
hour's distance, are collected. The leaders call to them, and since
each one knows his master's poah! poah! they obediently come home.
They are arranged in rows within the quadrangle. The smallest boy can
control these big, strong, yet harmless and helpless animals. He
calls: Krr! krr! and the huge beasts patiently sink to their knees.
Then they fold their hind legs, and after a series of strange,
undulating movements all are lying in regular rows, moving their long
necks in every direction and looking about. I have always noticed the
resemblance of a camel's neck with that of an ostrich, and the Turks
call these birds _deve-kush_, the camel-birds. A thin cord is then
tied around one bent knee of each camel. If it should rise it would
have to stand on three legs, and would be unable to move.
On this evening we were visited by several friendly Arabs, short and
thin, but strong and sinewy people. Their complexion was
yellowish-brown, their eyes were small and vivacious. An assumed
dignity barely disguised their native vivacity, and their guttural
speech reminded us very strongly of the Jews. Their dress consisted of
a rough cotton shirt, a white woolen cloak and a red and yellow
kerchief, half-silk, which each man had fastened about his head
with a string, just as you see it on the Egyptian statues.
[Illustration: MOLTKE AT SEDAN ANTON VON WERNER]
Hunting-in the _Tshull_ is highly successful. There are countless
gazelles, pheasants and partridges hiding in the tall grass. On the
third day we were just on the point of following some bustards, which
clumsily rise on their wings and after some time descend again to the
ground, when a general alarm arose in the caravan. "The Arabs are
coming!" was shouted everywhere. A throng had been noticed in the
distance approaching very rapidly. The head of our column stopped, but
since our whole caravan was stretched out to the length of
approximately four miles, there was little hope of protecting it with
a guard of some sixty armed men. The horsemen galloped ahead to an
artificial mount, where the Arabs were pointed out to me. There were
indeed numerous black spots moving rapidly through the plain, but
since I had a small telescope with me I could quickly convince my
companions that what we saw before us was nothing but a huge herd of
wild boars bearing down upon us. Soon the beasts could be recognized
with the naked eye.
Tonight the _Kjerwan-Bashi_ told me a characteristic story of an Arab
which I had heard before in Orfa.
A Turkish general of cavalry, Dano-Pasha at Mardin, had been
negotiating for some time with an Arab tribe concerning the purchase
of a full-blooded mare of the Meneghi breed. Finally a price of sixty
bags or almost fifteen hundred dollars was agreed upon. At the
appointed hour the sheikh of the tribe arrives with his mare in the
courtyard of the pasha. The latter is still trying to bargain, when
the sheikh proudly replies that he will not take one _para_ less. The
Turk sulkily throws him the money saying that thirty thousand piasters
are an unheard of price for a horse. The Arab looks at him in silence,
and ties the money very complacently in his cloak. Then he descends to
the courtyard to take leave of his mare. He mutters some Arabic words
in her ear, strokes her eyes and forehead, examines her hoofs, and
walks all around her, carefully studying the attentive horse. Suddenly
he jumps on her bare back, and, in the same instant, off she shoots
like a dart out of the courtyard.
In this country the horses generally stand ready with their _palans_
or felt saddles on, day and night. Every distinguished man has at
least one or two horses in his stable ready to be mounted as soon as
they have been bridled. The Arabs, however, ride without bridles. The
halter serves to check the horse, and a gentle tap with the open hand
on the neck makes it go to the right or the left. Not more than a few
seconds, therefore, elapsed before the _agas_ of the pasha were
mounted and in hot pursuit of the fugitive.
The unshod hoofs of the Arabian mare had never yet trodden cobble
stones, and very carefully she picked her way while she hastened down
the steep, uneven road leading from the castle. The Turks, on the
other hand, galloped over the steep descent with its loose pebbles
just as we often gallop up a sandy slope. Thin, circular shoes, forged
cold, kept all harm from the feet of their horses, which were
accustomed to such trips and made no false steps.
Where the village ends the _agas_ have almost caught up with the
sheikh, but now they are in the plain, the Arabian mare is in her
element, off she darts, straight ahead, for here there are neither
ditches nor fences, neither rivers nor mountains to delay her course.
Like a clever jockey who leads a race, the Arab wishes to ride as
slowly and not as quickly as possible. Constantly looking back at his
pursuers, he keeps out of gunshot. When they approach he pushes on;
when they fall behind, he slows the pace of his horse; when they stop,
he walks his mare. Thus the chase continues till the fiery orb of the
sun verges toward the horizon. Then for the first time the Arab
demands of his horse every ounce of her strength. Crouching over her
neck he drives his heels into her flanks, and with a loud "Jellah!" is
gone. The sod resounds under powerful hoof-beats, and soon only a
cloud of dust indicates to his pursuers the course he has taken.
Here where the sun descends to the horizon almost in a vertical line
the twilight is exceedingly brief and soon dark night had swallowed up
every trace of the fugitive. The Turks, without provision for
themselves or water for their horses, realized that they were some
twelve or fifteen hours away from home and in an unknown locality.
What could they do but return and bring to their irate master the
unwelcome news that both the horse and the rider with the money were
gone? Not until the third evening did they reach Mardin, half dead of
exhaustion and with horses hardly able to put one foot ahead of the
other. Their only consolation was that here there was another instance
of Arabian perfidy for them to revile. The traitor's horse, to be
sure, they were obliged to praise, and they had to confess that such
an animal could hardly be paid for too dearly.
Next day, just when the _Imam_ is calling to morning prayer, the pasha
hears hoofbeats under his window, and into the courtyard the sheikh is
riding entirely unabashed. "Sidi," he calls up, "Sir, do you want your
money or my horse?"
Somewhat less quickly than the Arab had ridden we reached on the fifth
day the foot of the mountain and near a clear rivulet the large
village of Tillaja (Tshilaga), doubtless the ancient Tilsaphata, where
the starving army of Jovian on its retreat from Persia to Nisibin
found its first provisions. There I learned that on that very morning
Mehmet-Pasha had started with an army on an expedition against the
Kurds in the north. I at once decided to join him and, leaving the
caravan, arrived at his camp that same evening. There I was told that
Hafiss-Pasha had sent a guard of fifty horsemen to meet us, whom we
had missed, because they had looked for us in the direction of
Sindjar.
A BULLFIGHT IN SPAIN
TRANSLATED BY EDMUND VON MACH, PH.D.
[From a letter written by Moltke to his brother Fritz and dated
October 28, 1846.]
My most interesting experience was a bullfight. At three in the
afternoon my Frenchman and I betook ourselves to the circular arena
where twelve thousand people were assembled to watch the _Corrida de
Toros_. There are about twenty stone steps on which the people take
their places, just as in the ancient amphitheatres, and on top there
are two tiers of boxes, of which the one in the centre is reserved for
the queen. The arena proper where the fight is to take place is
perfectly empty, and is separated from the spectators by a barrier of
beams and planks seven feet in height. A small platform makes it
possible for those who fight on foot to vault safely from the arena
when they can avoid the bull in no other way.
After some delay the gates opened and the _alguazil_, some kind of a
higher official clad in old-fashioned garb, rode in and announced that
the game was about to begin. He was everywhere greeted with hoots,
ridicule and disrespectful whistling; I do not know why. But he seemed
to know what to expect, for he apparently did not mind his reception
in the least. The Romans in the circus made sport of their consuls and
emperors, and the Spaniards at a bullfight are permitted an equal
latitude of behavior.
Then the _chulos_ entered--on foot, with gay hangings draped over
their right arms. They were followed by six _picadores_ on horseback,
dressed in leather jerkins and breeches, protected on the right side
with bands of iron. They wore Spanish hats and carried each a heavy
spear on which there was an iron point only half an inch long. Their
saddles were of the high cowboy type, and they sat their horses well.
Under the accompaniment of deafening applause the _matador_
(literally, the murderer) took his place at their head. His name was
Cuchiera, and he was a famous and celebrated hero of the arena. Thus
this phalanx advanced toward the royal box, where Queen Christine,
wife of Muñoz, Duke of Rianzares, was seated, and dropped to their
knees to offer her the royal salute; whereupon twelve thousand people
hissed.
At last the chief actor entered, a powerful black bull with sharp
horns and fiercely glistening eyes. He had been in a room with holes
in the ceiling through which he had been poked with pointed sticks. He
was, therefore, tolerably ill-humored before he entered the arena. As
soon as the doors of his prison were opened he shot forward to the
centre of the field, looked fiercely about him, greatly astonished,
pawed the sand with his feet, and then hurled himself upon the nearest
_picador_. This man held his ground, and permitted the maddened bull
to rush against his pointed spear. The horse had his right eye
bandaged lest he see the bull and bolt. The attack, however, was so
fierce, and the rider so firmly seated in his saddle, that both he and
his horse were lifted up and thrown over backwards. At the same moment
the sharp horns of the bull were fastened in the horse's belly. A
stream of blood, thick as your finger, spurted out directly from the
horse's heart. The _picador_ was lying under his charger, and was
prevented by his costume from freeing himself. His certain end was at
hand if the _chulos_ had not come to his assistance with their gay
draperies. The bull immediately let go his prey and hurled himself
upon the men on foot, or rather upon their gaudy cloaks. He chased one
the entire length of the arena and, when his foe had escaped him by
jumping the barrier, he made the stout fence tremble under his
hammering horns. At the disappearance of his enemy the bull stood
stock still, as if dumfounded, until a second _picador_ met his
glance. This horseman had the same experience as his predecessor, but
before the _chulos_ could bring help the bull buried his horns a
second time in the belly of the convulsed horse and carried it high up
in the air through half the length of the arena. The third horse was
ripped open in a trice. The wretched animal actually caught his feet
in his own entrails and dragged them from his body bit by bit. In this
condition he was beaten and given the spurs and was forced to await a
second attack by the infuriated bull.
Since the bull each time had received a terrific thrust on his left
shoulder from the spear, he finally refused to charge another one of
the _picadores_. Their places, therefore, had to be taken by the
_banderilleros_. These gay-looking people are men on foot with arrows
two feet long, each with a hooked point. On the other end these arrows
are decorated with little flags, brass foil, tinsel, and even bird
cages whence gaily decked birds are permitted to escape. With these
arrows the _banderilleros_ walk right up to the bull, and, when he is
ready to charge, jump to one side and thrust their weapons deep into
his neck, halfway between his ears and his horns. Then the beast grows
altogether mad and furious, and often chases a whole band of _chulos_
in wild flight over the barrier, which calls for noisy shouts of
ridicule from the crowd. Once the bull straddled the fence, and there
have been times when he has succeeded in scaling it. One of the
_chulos_ was so bold as to put his gaudy cloak over his shoulders, so
that the bull charged straight at him. But as the beast lowered his
head and threw himself forward with closed eyes, the man jumped over
him and stood by his side.
When finally the rage of the bull is at its height, but his strength
is waning, the _matador_ faces him, all alone. At once a hush falls
over the spectators, who sit in rapt attention, for the _matador's_
work is by far the most dangerous.
He is a fine-looking man, in shoes and white stockings. His silk coat
and breeches are sky blue; his hair is tied in a net, in his left hand
he carries a small scarlet cloak, and in his right a diamond-shaped
blade of sharp Toledo steel, four feet in length. It is necessary to
drive this into the neck of the bull at a very definite point, for if
it hits him elsewhere he can shake it off and break it into splinters.
In order to hit the right spot the man must let the bull pass him at a
distance of only two or at best three inches. Everything is based on
the assumption that the bull will attack the red cloth rather than the
man, and will continue his course in an absolutely straight line.
There are exceptions, and then the _matador_ is lost.
Very deliberately the _caballero_ walked up to his black antagonist
and shook his red cloth at him. Twice he let him pass under his arm.
At the third attempt he thrust his blade up to the hilt into the neck
of the beast. For another minute perhaps the bull rages, then he
begins to bleed from his mouth, he totters and then collapses.
Immediately a kind of hangman's assistant sneaks up from behind and
plunges a dagger into the neck of the bull, who expires on the spot.
At this juncture five mules decorated with ribbons and tinkling bells
came trotting into the arena; they were hitched up to the horses and
then to the bull, and at a fast clip carried the corpses away. Some
sand was then sprinkled on the puddles of blood, and a new bull
brought out. In this way eight bulls were driven to death. Twenty
horses fell dead, while several more were led away mortally wounded. A
single bull killed eight horses. No men were seriously hurt.