DE LAMARTINE.
NARRATIVE
OF THE RESIDENCE OF
FATALLA SAYEGHIR
AMONG THE
WANDERING ARABS OF THE GREAT DESERT:
COLLECTED AND TRANSLATED BY THE CARE OF
M. DE LAMARTINE.
[Illustration]
_PHILADELPHIA_:
CAREY, LEA & BLANCHARD.
1836.
ADVERTISEMENT
OF THE AMERICAN PUBLISHERS.
In presenting to the public the curious and interesting Narrative of
Fatalla Sayeghir, it is proper to explain that it formed an appendix to
the English edition of “De Lamartine’s Pilgrimage to the Holy Land;”
but having no immediate connexion with it, the publishers thought, it
proper to defer the publication of this work (as mentioned in their
advertisement) until they should know what reception the “Pilgrimage”
would meet with. A second edition being called for and nearly expended,
it has induced the publication of the “Narrative” in a separate volume,
which they hope will be acceptable to the public.
INTRODUCTION.
BY ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE.
We were encamped in the midst of the desert which extends from
Tiberias to Nazareth, and were speaking of the Arab tribes we had met
in the day, of their manners, and the connexions between them and
with the great population by whom they are surrounded. We endeavoured
to elucidate the mystery of their origin, their destiny, and that
astonishing endurance of the spirit of race, which separates this
people from all other human families, and keeps them, like the Jews,
not without the pale of civilization, but within a civilization of
their own, as unchangeable as granite.
The more I have travelled, the more I am convinced that races of men
form the great secret of history and manners. Man is not so capable of
education as philosophers imagine. The influence of governments and
laws has less power, radically, than is supposed, over the manners
and instincts of any people, while the primitive constitution and the
blood of the race have always their influence, and manifest themselves,
thousands of years afterwards, in the physical formations and moral
habits of a particular family or tribe. Human nature flows in rivers
and streams into the vast ocean of humanity: but its waters mingle but
slowly, sometimes never; and it emerges again, like the Rhone from
the Lake of Geneva, with its own taste and colour. Here is indeed an
abyss of thought and meditation, and at the same time a grand secret
for legislators. As long as they keep the spirit of race in view,
they succeed; but they fail when they strive against this natural
predisposition: nature is stronger than they are. This sentiment is
not that of the philosophers of the present time, but it is evident
to the traveller; and there is more philosophy to be found in a
caravan journey of a hundred leagues, than in ten years’ reading and
meditation. I felt happy in thus wandering about among deserts and
unknown countries, with no route before me but my caprice; and I told
my friends, and M. Mazolier, my interpreter, that if I were alone and
without family ties, I would lead this manner of life for years and
years. I would never sleep where I had arisen: I would transport my
tent from the shores of Egypt to the Persian Gulf, and wish no aim for
the evening but evening itself. I would wander on foot, and dwell with
eye and heart on these unknown lands, these races of men so different
from my own, and contemplate humanity, this most beautiful work of
God, under all its forms. To effect this, what would be requisite?--a
few slaves or faithful servants, arms, a little gold, two or three
tents, and some camels. The sky of these countries is almost always
warm and pure, life easy and economical, and hospitality certain and
picturesque. I should prefer, a hundred times, years passed under
different skies, with hosts and friends ever new, to the barren and
noisy monotony of the life of our capitals. It is undoubtedly more
difficult to lead the life of a man of the world in Paris or London,
than to visit the universe as a traveller. The results of two such
lives are, however, very different. The traveller either dies, or
he returns with a treasure of thoughts and wisdom. The domesticated
inhabitant of our capitals grows old without knowledge, without
experience, and dies as much entrammelled, as much immersed in false
notions, as when he first begins to exercise his senses. I should like,
said I to my dragoman, to cross those mountains, to descend into the
great desert of Syria, accost some of the large unknown tribes that
traverse it, receive their hospitality for months, pass on to others,
study their resemblances and differences, follow them from the gardens
of Damascus to the banks of the Euphrates and the confines of Persia,
and raise the veil which still hangs over the civilization of the
desert,--a civilization where our chivalry had its birth, and where
it must still exist: but time presses, and we may see but the borders
of that ocean whose whole no one has yet crossed. No traveller has
penetrated amidst those innumerable tribes, whose tents and flocks
cover the plains of the patriarchs; one only man attempted it, but he
is no more, and the notes which he had collected during ten years’
residence amongst the people were lost with himself. I desired to
introduce M. de Lascaris to my readers: the following is a sketch of
his character.
M. de Lascaris was born in Piedmont, of one of those Greek families
which settled in Italy after the conquest of Constantinople: he was
a knight of Malta when Napoleon conquered the island. M. de Lascaris
was then a very young man; he followed him to Egypt, attached himself
to his fortunes, and was fascinated by his genius. Highly gifted
himself, he was one of the first to perceive the lofty eminence
reserved by Providence for the young man who was imbued with all
the spirit of Plutarch, when the human character seemed worn out,
shattered, or false. He perceived more: he perceived that the great
work to be accomplished by his hero was not perhaps the restoration
of power in Europe; an effect which the reaction of men’s minds
rendered necessary, and therefore easy; he felt that Asia presented
a far wider field for the renovating ambition of a hero; that that
was the scene for conquering, for founding, and for renovating on a
scale incomparably more gigantic; that despotism, brief in Europe,
would be lasting, eternal, in Asia; that the great man who could there
apply the principles of organization and unity would effect more than
Alexander,--more than Bonaparte in France. It appears that the young
warrior of Italy, whose imagination was luminous as the East, undefined
as the desert, wide as the world, held some confidential conversations
with M. de Lascaris on this subject; and directed one ray of thought
towards that horizon which was opening to him his destiny. It was but
a ray, and I lament it: it is evident that Bonaparte was the man for
the East, not the man for Europe. This will provoke a smile; it will
appear paradoxical to the world. But consult travellers. Bonaparte,
who is looked upon as the man of the French revolution and of liberty,
never understood liberty, and wrecked the French revolution. History
will prove it in every page, when written under other impulses than
those which at present dictate it. He was the incarnation of reaction
against the liberty of Europe: glorious and brilliant, it is true; but
no more. What proof shall I advance? Ask what remains of Bonaparte in
the world, beyond a page of warfare, and a page to record an unskilful
restoration. But as for a monument, a basis for expectation, a future,
a something that may live after him besides his name--nothing exists
but an immense reminiscence. In Asia he would have stirred men by
millions; and, himself a man of simple ideas, he would with two or
three facts have built up a monument of civilization which would have
survived him a thousand years. But the mistake was made: Napoleon chose
Europe; he only chose to leave behind him one explorer to examine what
might be done, and to trace out the road to India, if ever fortune
should lay it open to him. M. de Lascaris was the man; he set out with
secret instructions from Bonaparte, received the necessary sums for
his undertaking, and established himself at Aleppo, to complete his
knowledge of Arabic. Being a man of merit, talent, and knowledge, he
feigned a sort of enthusiasm to account for his continuance in Syria,
and his unceasing intercourse with the Arabs of the desert who came
to Aleppo. At length, after some years’ preparation, he commenced
his grand and perilous enterprise; he passed with various risks, and
under different disguises, through all the tribes of Mesopotamia and
of the Euphrates; and returned to Aleppo, rich in the knowledge he had
acquired, and in the political relations he had prepared for Napoleon.
But whilst accomplishing the mission, fortune overthrew his hero; and
he learned his downfall the very day on which he was about to bring him
the fruits of seven years’ danger and devotion. This unforeseen stroke
was fatal to M. de Lascaris; he went into Egypt, and died at Cairo,
alone, unknown, abandoned, and leaving behind him his notes, his only
bequest. It is said that the English consul obtained these valuable
documents, which might have become injurious to his government, and
that they were either destroyed or sent to London.
“What a pity,” said I to M. Mazolier, “that we should have lost the
result of so many years’ labour and patience!” “There is something yet
remaining,” said he; “I was attached at Latakia, my country, to a young
Arab, who accompanied M. de Lascaris during all his travels. After his
death, being without resources, and deprived even of the arrears of his
small salary, which M. de Lascaris had promised him, he returned poor
and plundered to his mother. He is now living in some small employ with
a merchant of Latakia. I knew him there, and he has often spoken to me
of a series of notes that he wrote at the instigation of his patron
in the course of their wandering life.” “Do you think,” said I to M.
Mazolier, “the young man would consent to sell them?” “I should think
so,” he replied; “and the more so, as he has often expressed his desire
to present them to the French government. But nothing is so easy as to
know this; I will write to Fatalla Sayeghir, which is the name of the
young Arab. Ibrahim Pacha’s Tartar will deliver him my letter, and we
shall have an answer on his return to Said.” “I commission you,” said
I, “to negotiate the affair, and to offer him two thousand piastres for
his manuscript.”
Some months elapsed before the answer of Fatalla Sayeghir reached me.
Returning to Byrauth, I sent my interpreter to negotiate directly for
the MS. at Latakia. The terms were accepted, the sum was paid, and the
Arabic MS. brought me by M. Mazolier. In the course of the winter, I
got them translated with infinite difficulty into the Frank language,
and thence translated them into French myself; the public are thus
enabled to enjoy the fruits of a ten years’ journeying, which no other
traveller has hitherto effected. The extreme difficulty of this triple
translation must be an excuse for the style of the notes. The style
indeed is of little importance in such works; facts and manners are
everything. I am fully satisfied that the first translator has altered
nothing; he has only suppressed some tedious details consisting of idle
repetitions which availed nothing.
Should this recital possess any interest in a scientific, a
geographical, or a political point of view, I have only one wish to
form; it is that the French government, which such a period of peril
and exile was intended to enlighten and serve, should show a tardy
gratitude towards the unfortunate Fatalla Sayeghir, whose services
might even still be useful. In this wish I include too the young and
skilful interpreter, M. Mazolier, who has translated these notes from
the Arabic, and who accompanied me for a year in my travels in Syria,
Galilee, and Arabia. Versed in the knowledge of Arabic, the son of an
Arab mother, nephew of one of the most powerful and revered sheiks of
Lebanon, having already traversed all those countries with me, familiar
with the manners of the tribes, a man of courage, intelligence and
honour, heartily devoted to France, this young man might be of the
utmost service to the government in our relations with Syria. French
nationality terminates not with our frontiers. Our country has sons as
attached upon shores whose name she scarcely knows. M. Mazolier is one
of those sons. France should not forget him. No one could serve her
better than he, in countries in which the effects of our activity of
civilization, protection, and even of policy, must soon be necessarily
felt. The following is the narrative of Fatalla Sayeghir, literally
translated.
NARRATIVE
OF
FATALLA SAYEGHIR.
At eighteen years of age I quitted Aleppo, my country, with a stock of
merchandise, to establish myself in Cyprus. Being tolerably fortunate
in the first year of my commercial speculations, I took a liking
to the business, and adopted the fatal idea of taking to Trieste a
cargo of the productions of the island. In a short time my goods were
embarked; they consisted of cotton, silk, wine, sponge, and colocynth.
On the 18th March, 1809, my ship, commanded by Captain _Chefalinati_,
set sail. I was already calculating the profits of my venture, and
rejoicing at the idea of the gross returns, when, in the midst of my
delightful illusions, the fatal news arrived of the capture of the
vessel by an English ship of war, which had taken her to Malta. In
consequence of such a loss, I was obliged to strike my balance, and
retire from trade; and I quitted Cyprus totally ruined, and returned to
Aleppo. Some days after my arrival I dined at one of my friends’ with
several persons, amongst whom was a stranger, very ill-dressed, but
to whom much consideration was shown. After dinner there was music;
and the stranger sitting beside me, conversed with much affability: we
spoke of music, and after a long conversation, I rose to ask him his
name. I learned that it was M. Lascaris de Ventimiglia, and that he was
a knight of Malta. The following day, I saw him coming to my house,
holding in his hand a violin. “My good young man,” said he on entering,
“I remarked yesterday how much you like music; I already look upon you
as my son, and bring you a violin, of which I beg your acceptance.” I
received with much pleasure the instrument, which was exactly to my
taste, and gave him very many thanks. After an animated conversation of
two hours, during which he questioned me upon all sorts of subjects,
he retired. The next day he returned, and continued in this manner his
visits for a fortnight; he then proposed to me to give him lessons
in Arabic for an hour every day, for which he offered me a hundred
piastres a month. I gladly accepted this advantageous proposal; and
after six months’ teaching he began to read and speak Arabic tolerably
well. One day he said to me, “My dear son, (he always addressed me
thus,) I see that you have a great inclination for commerce; and as I
wish to remain some time with you, I should like to employ you in a
manner agreeable to yourself. Here is money: purchase goods, such as
are saleable at Homs, at Hama, and the neighbourhood. We will trade in
the countries least frequented by merchants; you will find we shall
succeed well.” My desire of remaining with M. de Lascaris, and the
persuasion that the undertaking would be successful, determined me
to accept the proposal without hesitation; and I began, according to
a note which he sent me, to make the purchases, which consisted of
the following articles: red cloth, amber, corals in chaplets, cotton
handkerchiefs, silk handkerchiefs black and red, black shirts, pins,
needles, box combs and horn, rings, horses’ bits, bracelets of glass
beads, and other glass ornaments; to these we added chemical products,
spices, and drugs. M. Lascaris paid for these different articles eleven
thousand piastres, or two thousand tallaris.
The people of Aleppo, who saw me purchasing the goods, told me that M.
Lascaris was become mad. Indeed his dress and his manners made him pass
for mad. He wore his beard long and ill-combed, a white turban very
dirty, a shabby robe or _gombaz_, with a vest beneath, a leather belt,
and red shoes without stockings. When spoken to, he pretended not to
understand what was said. He spent the greater part of the day at the
coffee-house, and ate at the bazaar, which was never done by the higher
people. This behaviour had an object, as I afterwards discovered; but
those who knew it not thought his mind was deranged. As to myself, I
found him full of sense and wisdom; in short, a superior man. One day
when all the goods were packed, he called me to him, to ask what was
said of him at Aleppo. “They say,” replied I, “that you are mad.” “And
what do you think yourself?” said he. “I think that you are full of
sense and knowledge.” “I hope in time to prove it so,” said he; “but I
must have you engage to do all I shall order, without reply or asking
a reason; to obey me in every thing; in short, I must have a blind
obedience; you will have no occasion to repent.” He then told me to
fetch him some mercury; I instantly obeyed: he mixed it with grease
and two other drugs, of which I was ignorant, and assured me, that a
thread of cotton dipped in this preparation and tied round the neck was
a security against the bite of insects. I thought to myself there were
not insects enough at Homs, or at Hama, to require such a preservative;
that therefore it was destined for some other country; but as he had
interdicted every remark, I merely asked him on what day we should
depart, that I might order the moukres (camel drivers.) “I allow you,”
he replied, “thirty days to divert yourself; my chest is at your
disposal; enjoy yourself, spend what you like, spare nothing.” This is,
thought I, for a farewell to the world which he wishes me to make: but
the strong attachment I already felt for him stifled this reflection; I
thought no longer but of the present, and availed myself of the time he
allowed to enjoy myself. But alas! the time for pleasure soon passes!
it soon came to an end. M. Lascaris pressed me to depart; I submitted
to his orders, and profiting by a caravan that set out for Hama,
Thursday the 18th of February, 1810, we left Aleppo, and arrived at
the village of Saarmin, after twelve hours’ march. The next day we set
out for Nuarat el Nahaman, a pretty little town, distant six hours.
It is celebrated for the salubrity of the air and the goodness of its
waters; it is the native place of the celebrated Arabian poet Abu el
Hella el Maari, who was blind from his birth. He had learned to write
by a singular method. He remained in a vapour bath while they traced on
his back the form of the Arabic letters with iced water. Many are the
traits of sagacity related of him; among others the following:--Being
at Bagdad with a calife, to whom he was continually boasting of the
air and water of his native place, the calife procured some water from
the river Nuarat, and without any intimation gave it him to drink. The
poet, immediately recognising it, exclaimed, “Here is its limpid water,
but where its air so pure!” To return to the caravan: it remained
two days at Nuarat, to be present at a fair that was held there on
Sundays. We went to walk about, and in the multitude I lost sight of
M. Lascaris, who had disappeared in the midst. After looking for him
a long while, I at last discovered him in a solitary spot conversing
with a ragged Bedouin. I asked him with surprise what pleasure he found
in the conversation of such a person, who could neither understand his
Arabic, nor make him understand his. “The day,” said he, “when I have
first had the honour of speaking with a Bedouin, is one of the happiest
days of my life.” “In that case,” I replied, “you will often be at the
summit of happiness, for we shall be continually meeting with this sort
of people.”
He made me buy some _galettes_ (the bread of the country) and some
cheese, and gave them to Hettall, (the name of the Arab,) who thanked
us and took leave. The 20th February we left Nuarat el Nahaman,
and, after six hours’ march, we arrived at Khrau Cheikhria, and the
next day, after nine hours, at Hama, a considerable town, where
we were known to nobody, as M. Lascaris had brought no letters of
recommendation. We passed the first night in a coffee-house; and, the
next day, hired a room in the khan of Asshad Pacha. As I was beginning
to open the bales, and prepare the goods for sale, M. Lascaris said to
me with a dissatisfied air, “You are only thinking of your miserable
commerce! If you knew how many more useful and interesting things
there are to be done!” After that I thought no more of selling, and
went to survey the town. On the fourth day, M. Lascaris, walking by
himself, proceeded as far as the castle, which is falling to ruins.
Having examined it attentively, he had the imprudence to begin taking
its dimensions. Four vagabonds, who were concealed under a broken arch,
threw themselves upon him with threats to denounce him for wishing to
carry off treasures, and introduce the giaours into the castle. With a
little money all might have been ended without noise; but M. Lascaris
defended himself, and with difficulty escaped from their hands and came
to me. He had not finished telling me his adventure, when we saw two
men from the government enter with one of the informers. They took the
key of our room, and led us away, driving us with sticks like felons.
Being brought into the presence of the mutzelim, Selim Beg, known
for his cruelty, he thus questioned us: “Of what country are you?”
“My companion is from Cyprus,” I replied, “and myself from Aleppo.”
“What object leads you to this country?” “We are come to trade.” “You
lie; your companion was seen about the castle, taking its dimensions
and drawing plans; it is to obtain treasure, and deliver the place to
the infidels.” Then turning to the guards, “Take the two dogs,” said
he, “to the dungeon.”--We were not allowed to say another word. Being
brought to the prison, we were loaded with chains from the neck to
the feet, and shut up in a dark dungeon, which was so small that we
could hardly turn. After a time we obtained a light, and some bread,
for a tallari; but the immense quantity of bugs and other insects that
infested the prison prevented us from closing our eyes. We had scarcely
courage to think of means to get out of the horrible place. At length I
recollected a Christian writer, named Selim, whom I knew by reputation
as a useful person. I gained over one of our guards, who went for him;
and the following day Selim arranged the matter by means of a present
of sixty tallaris to the mutzelim, and fifty piastres to his people. At
this price we obtained our liberty. This imprisonment procured for us
the acquaintance of Selim, and several other persons at Hama, with whom
we passed three weeks very agreeably.
The town is charming; the Orontes crosses it, and renders it gay and
animated; its abundant waters keep up the verdure of numerous gardens.
The inhabitants are amiable, lively, and witty. They admire poetry and
cultivate it with success. They have been well characterised with the
epithet of speaking birds. M. Lascaris having asked Selim for a letter
of recommendation to a man of humble condition at Homs, who might serve
us as guide, he wrote the following note: “To our brother Yakoub,
health! They who will present you this letter are pedlers, and come
to you to sell their wares in the neighbourhood of Homs; assist them
as far as you are able. Your pains will not be lost; they are honest
people. Farewell!”
M. Lascaris, well satisfied with this letter, wished to take advantage
of a caravan that was going to Homs. We departed on the 25th March,
and arrived after six hours at Rastain, which is at present only the
ruin of an ancient considerable town. It contains nothing remarkable.
We continued our route, and at the end of another six hours we
reached Homs. Yakoub, to whom we delivered our letter, received us
admirably, and gave us a supper. His trade was making black cloaks,
called machlas. After supper, some men of his own rank came to pass
the evening with him, drinking coffee and smoking. One of them, a
locksmith named Naufal, appeared very intelligent. He spoke to us of
the Bedouins, of their manner of living and making war; he told us that
he passed six months of the year with these tribes to arrange their
arms, and that he had many friends among them. When we were alone, M.
Lascaris said to me that he had that night seen all his relatives; and
as I expressed my wonder at learning that there were any of the people
of Ventimiglia at Homs, “My meeting with Naufal,” said he, “is more
valuable to me than that with my whole family.”
It was late when we retired, and the master of the house gave a
mattress and covering for us both. M. Lascaris had never slept with any
one; but, out of kindness, he insisted that I should share the bed with
him: not wishing to contradict him, I placed myself beside him; but as
soon as the light was out, wrapping myself in my machlas, I crept out
to the ground, where I passed the night. The next morning, on waking,
we found ourselves lying in the same manner; M. Lascaris having done as
I had. He came and embraced me, saying, “It is a good sign that we had
the same idea, my dear son; for I like to call you so, as it pleases
you, I hope, as well as me.” I thanked him for the interest he showed
me, and we went out together to prevail on Naufal to accompany us
through the town, and show us what curiosity it contained, promising to
pay him for the loss of the day. The population of Homs is about eight
thousand. The character of the people is quite different from that of
the inhabitants of Hama. The citadel, situated in the centre of the
town, is falling to ruins; the ramparts still preserved are watered by
a branch of the Orontes. The air is pure. We bought for forty piastres
two sheep-skin cloaks like those of the Bedouins: these cloaks are
water-proof. To be the more at liberty, we hired a room at the khan,
and begged Naufal to stay with us, engaging to pay him as much as he
would have earned in his shop,--about three piastres a day. He was of
the greatest use. M. Lascaris questioned him dexterously, and obtained
from him all the information he wished: getting him to describe the
manners, usages, and character of the Bedouins, their mode of receiving
strangers and treating them. We stayed thirty days at Homs, to wait the
return of the Bedouins, who commonly quit the neighbourhood of that
city in October, to proceed to the south, according to the weather, and
the water and pasturage; progressing one day, and halting five or six.
Some go as far as Bagdad, others to Chatt el Arab, where the Tigris and
the Euphrates join. In February they commence their return to Syria,
and at the end of April they are found again in the deserts of Damascus
and Aleppo. Naufal gave us all this intelligence, and told us that the
Bedouins made constant use of cloaks like ours, black machlas, and
above all of cafiés. M. Lascaris accordingly made me buy twenty cloaks,
ten machlas, and fifty cafiés, of which I made a bale. This purchase
amounted to twelve hundred piastres. Naufal having proposed to us to
visit the citadel, the recollection of the adventure at Hama made us at
first hesitate; but, on his assurance that nothing disagreeable could
happen, and that he would be responsible, we consented, and went with
him to view the ruins seated at the top of a small hill in the middle
of the town. The castle is in better preservation than that of Hama. We
observed in it a deep and concealed grotto, in which was an abundant
spring; the water escaped by an opening four feet by two, and passed
through bars of iron into a second opening. It is excellent. An old
tradition was told us, that the passage being once stopped up, there
came a deputation from Persia, which, for a considerable sum paid to
the government, procured it to be re-opened, and that for the future
the water should not be obstructed. The entrance into the grotto is now
forbidden, and it is very difficult to get in.
Returning home, M. Lascaris asked me, if I had noted down what we had
seen, and what had occurred since our departure; and on my answer in
the negative, he begged that I would do so, making me promise to keep
an exact journal in Arabic of all that had occurred, that he might
himself translate it into French. From that time I took notes, which he
carefully transcribed every day and returned to me the day following.
I have now put them together in the hope that they may one day prove
useful, and obtain for me a slight compensation for my fatigues and
sufferings.
M. Lascaris having determined to go to the village of Saddad, I engaged
Naufal to accompany us; and joining some other persons, we quitted
Homs with all our merchandise. After five hours’ march, we passed a
large brook running from north to south towards the castle of Hasné.
This castle, commanded by an aga, is a halting-place to the caravan
from Mecca to Damascus: the water is excellent for drinking, and we
filled our skins with it. This was a necessary precaution, for we found
no more on our seven hours’ march from thence to Saddad. We arrived
there at sunset. Naufal took us to the sheik, Hassaf Abu Ibrahim,
a venerable old man, and father of nine children, all married, and
living under the same roof. He received us most kindly, and presented
us to all his family, which, to our great astonishment, amounted to
sixty-four persons. The sheik having asked us if we wished to establish
ourselves in the village, or travel into other countries, we told him
we were merchants; that war between the powers having interrupted the
communication by sea with Cyprus, we had been desirous of settling at
Aleppo, but finding in that city richer merchants than ourselves, we
had determined to carry our goods to less frequented places, hoping
to make larger gains. Having then told him in what our merchandise
consisted, “These articles,” said he, “are only useful to the Arabs
of the desert; I am sorry to tell you so, but it will be impossible
to get to them; and even if you should, you run the risk of losing
everything, even your lives. The Bedouins are greedy and audacious;
they will seize your goods, and, if you offer the least resistance,
will put you to death. You are people of honour and delicacy; you could
never put up with their grossness; it is for your sake that I speak
thus, being myself a Christian. Take my advice: expose your goods here,
sell all that you can, and then return to Aleppo, if you would preserve
your property and your lives.” He had hardly left off speaking, when
the principal people of the village, who had assembled to see us,
began telling us alarming stories. One of them said, that a pedler
coming from Aleppo, and going into the desert, had been plundered by
the Bedouins, and had been seen returning quite naked. Another had
learned that a merchant from Damascus had been killed. All agreed as
to the impossibility of penetrating amongst the hordes of Bedouins,
and endeavoured by every possible means to deter us from the dangerous
enterprise.
I saw that M. Lascaris was vexed; he turned to me, and said in Italian,
not to be understood by the others, “What say you to this account,
which has much discouraged me?” “I do not believe,” said I, “all these
stories; and even if they were true, we ought still to persevere in our
project. Ever since you announced to me your intention to go among the
Bedouins, I have never hoped to revisit my home. I regarded the thirty
days you allowed me at Aleppo to enjoy myself, as my last farewell of
the world; I consider our journey as a real campaign; and he who goes
to war, being well resolved, should never think of his return. Let us
not lose our courage: though Hassaf is a sheik, and has experience, and
understands the cultivation of land and the affairs of his village, he
can have no idea of the importance of our business: I therefore am of
opinion that we should speak to him no more of our journey into the
desert, but place our trust in God, the protector of the universe.”
These words produced the effect upon M. Lascaris, who embraced me
tenderly, and said, “My dear son, I put all my hope in God and in
you; you are a man of resolution, I see; I am most satisfied with the
strength of your character, and I hope to attain my object by the aid
of your courage and constancy.” After this conversation, we went to
sleep, equally satisfied with one another.
We passed the next day in walking about the village, which contains
about two hundred houses and five churches. The inhabitants, Syrian
Christians, fabricate machlas and black abas, and pay little attention
to agriculture, from want of water, which is sensibly felt. There is
only one little spring in the village, the distribution of the water
being regulated by an hour-glass. It scarcely suffices to water the
gardens, which, in a climate where it seldom rains, are unproductive
without watering. Some years there does not fall a drop of rain. The
produce of the soil is hardly enough for six months’ consumption;
and, for the remainder of the year, the inhabitants are obliged to
have recourse to Homs. In the middle of the village there arises an
ancient tower of prodigious height. It dates from the foundation of
a colony whose history the sheik told us. The founders were natives
of Tripoli in Syria, where their church still exists. At the most
flourishing period of the Eastern empire, the Greeks, full of pride
and rapacity, tyrannised over the conquered people. The governor of
Tripoli overwhelmed the inhabitants with exactions and cruelty; these,
too few to resist, and unable to bear the yoke, concerted together to
the number of three hundred families; and having secretly collected
together all the valuables they could carry away, they departed without
noise in the middle of the night, went to Homs, and from thence moved
towards the desert of Bagdad, where they were overtaken by the Greek
troops sent in pursuit of them by the governor of Tripoli. They made
an obstinate and sanguinary resistance; but too inferior in numbers to
conquer, and resolved on no account to submit any longer to the tyranny
of the Greeks, they entered into negotiation, and obtained permission
to build a village on the spot of the battle, agreeing to remain
tributary to the governor of Tripoli. They established themselves at
this place, at the entrance of the desert, and called their village
Saddad (obstacle.) This is all that the Syrian chronicle contains
worthy of remark.
The inhabitants of Saddad are brave, but gentle. We unpacked our goods,
and spent some days with them, to prove that we were really merchants.
The women bought much of our red cotton cloth, to make chemises. The
sale did not detain us long, but we were obliged to await the arrival
of the Bedouins in the environs. One day, having been told that there
was four hours from the village a considerable ruin, and very ancient,
in which was a natural vapour bath, the wonder excited our curiosity;
and M. Lascaris, desirous of seeing it, begged the sheik to give us an
escort. After marching four hours to the southeast, we arrived in the
midst of an extensive ruin, in which there remains only one habitable
room. The architecture is simple; but the stones are of prodigious
size. On entering the room, we perceived an opening two feet square,
from which issued a thick vapour; we threw into it a handkerchief, and
in a minute and a half, by the watch, it was thrown out and fell at our
feet. We repeated the experiment with a shirt, which, at the end of ten
minutes, returned like the handkerchief. Our guides assured us that a
machlas, which weighs ten pounds, would be thrown up in the same manner.
Having undressed, and placed ourselves around the opening, we were in a
short time covered with perspiration, which trickled down our bodies;
but the smell of the vapour was so detestable, that we could not remain
a long time exposed to it. After half an hour we put on our clothes,
and experienced a most delightful sensation. We were told that the
vapour was really very sanative, and cured numbers of sick. Returning
to the village, we supped with an excellent appetite; and never,
perhaps, did I enjoy a more delicious sleep.
Having nothing more to see at Saddad, or the neighbourhood, we
determined to set out for the village of Corietain. When we spoke of
this to Naufal, he advised us to change our names, as our own would
create suspicion in the Bedouins and the Turks. From that time M.
Lascaris took the name of Sheik Ibrahim el Cabressi (the Cyprian,) and
gave me that of Abdallah el Katib.
Sheik Hassaf having given us a letter of recommendation to a Syrian
curate named Moussi, we took leave of him and our friends at Saddad,
and set off early. After four hours, we came between the two villages
of Mahim and Haourin, ten minutes apart: each contains about twenty
houses, mostly ruined by the Bedouins, who come from time to time
to plunder them. In the midst of these villages is a lofty tower of
ancient construction. The inhabitants, all Mussulmans, speak the
language of the Bedouins, and dress like them. After having breakfasted
and filled our water-bottles, we continued our journey for six hours,
and about nightfall arrived at Corietain, at the curate Mouss’s, who
afforded us hospitality. The next day he conducted us to the Sheik
Selim el Dahasse, a distinguished person, who received us very kindly.
Having learned the motive of our journey, he made the same observation
as the Sheik of Saddad. We answered him, “that, aware of the
difficulties of the enterprise, we had given up the idea of penetrating
into the desert, and should be satisfied with going to Palmyra, to
dispose of our merchandise.”--“That will be still too difficult,” added
he, “for the Bedouins may still meet you and pillage you.” He then
began, in his turn, to repeat a thousand alarming things about the
Bedouins. The curate confirming all he said, contributed to damp our
spirits; when breakfast was served, which changed the conversation, and
gave us time to recover.
Sheik Selim is one of those who are bound to supply the wants of the
great caravan to Mecca, in conjunction with the Sheik of Palmyra: and
his office gives him some influence over the Arabs: his contingent
consists of two hundred camels and provisions. On our return home,
Sheik Ibrahim, addressing me, said, “Well, my son, what do you think
of all we have heard from Sheik Selim?”--“We must not,” said I, “pay
too much regard to all that the inhabitants of these villages tell
us, who are always at war with the Bedouins; there cannot exist
much harmony between them. Our position is very different; we are
merchants,--we go to sell them our goods, and not to make war: by
acting honourably towards them, I do not apprehend the least danger.”
These words reassured Sheik Ibrahim.
Some days after our arrival, in order to support our character of
merchants, we opened our bales in the middle of the village, before
the doors of the sheik: I sold to the women some articles, which were
paid for in money. The idle people were standing around us to talk; one
of them, very young, named Hessaisoun el Katib, helped me to take the
money, and settle the accounts with the women and children: he showed
great zeal for my interests. One day, finding me alone, he asked me
if I was able to keep a secret. “Be careful,” said he; “it is a great
secret that you must trust to nobody, not even to your companion.”
Having given him my word, he told me that one hour from the village was
a grotto, in which was a large jar filled with sequins; he gave me one,
assuring me that he could not employ the money, which was not current
at Palmyra. “But you,” continued he, “are going from city to city, and
can change it easily; you have a thousand ways of profiting by the
treasure that I have not: however, I will not give you the whole, but I
shall leave the division to your generosity: you shall come with me to
reconnoitre the spot; we can remove the gold by degrees and in secret,
and you shall give me my share in the current coin.” Having seen and
handled the sequin, I believed in the truth of the story, and gave him
a meeting early the following morning outside the village.
The next morning by daylight I arose, and went from the house as if
to walk. At some paces from the village I found Hessaisoun, who was
waiting for me: he was armed with a gun, a sabre, and pistols; I had
no other arms than a long pipe. We proceeded onwards for an hour. With
what impatience did I look out for the grotto!--at last I perceived
it. We soon entered: I looked on all sides to discover the jar; and
not seeing any, I turned towards Hessaisoun--“Where is the jar?” said
I,--I saw him grow pale--“Since we are here,” exclaimed he, “learn
that thy last hour is come. Thou shouldst have been dead already, were
I not afraid of soiling thy clothes with blood. Before I kill thee, I
will despoil thee; so give me thy bag of money: I know thou hast it
about thee: it must contain more than twelve hundred piastres, which I
counted myself, the price of the goods sold. Thou shalt see no more the
light of day.”
“Give me my life,” said I, in a supplicating tone, “and I will give
thee a much larger sum than that in the sack, and will tell no one
of what has passed--I swear to thee.”--“That cannot be,” said he;
“this grotto shall be thy grave. I cannot give thee thy life without
exposing my own.”
I swore to him a thousand times that I would be silent: I offered to
give him a bill for whatever sum he should fix;--nothing could move him
from his fearful project. At length, tired by my resistance, he placed
his arms against the wall and darted upon me like an enraged lion, to
undress me before killing me. I entreated him again--“What harm have I
done you?” said I,--“what enmity is there between us? You do not know,
then, that the day of judgment is at hand--that God will demand the
blood of the innocent?”--But his hardened heart listened to nothing.
I thought of my brother, my parents, my friends; all that was dear
to me came to my mind;--desperate, I no longer prayed for protection
but from my Creator. “O God! protector of the innocent! help me! give
me strength to resist!” My assassin, impatient, snatched my clothes:
although he was much bigger than I, God gave me strength to struggle
with him for more than half an hour: the blood flowed abundantly from
my face--my clothes were torn to rags. The villain, seeing me in this
state, endeavoured to strangle me, and raised his arm to grasp my neck.
I took advantage of the liberty this movement allowed me, to give him
with both fists a violent blow in the stomach: I knocked him backwards,
and seizing his arms, I darted out of the grotto, running with all my
might. I could scarcely believe the happiness of being saved. Some
moments afterwards I heard a running after me: it was the assassin. He
called to me, begging me to wait in the most conciliating tone. Having
all his arms, I no longer feared to stop, and turning towards him,
“Wretch,” said I, “what is it you ask?--you would have assassinated
me in secret; but it is you who will be strangled in public.” He
answered me by affirming with an oath, that it had all been a jest on
his part; that he had wanted to try my courage, and see how I would
defend myself. “But I see,” added he, “that you are but a child, since
you take it so.”--I answered, raising the gun, that if he came a step
nearer I would shoot him. Seeing that I was determined to do it, he
fled across the desert, and I returned to the village.
In the meantime, Sheik Ibrahim, the curate, and Naufal, not finding
me return, began to be alarmed. Sheik Ibrahim above all, knowing that
I never went to a distance without acquainting him, after two hours’
delay went to the sheik, who, participating in his anxiety, sent out
all the village in search of me. At last Naufal, perceiving me, cried
out: “There he is!” Selim thought he was mistaken. I drew nearer: they
could with difficulty recognise me. M. Lascaris embraced me and wept:
I was unable to speak. They took me to the curate’s, bathed my wounds
and put me to bed. At length I found strength to relate my adventure.
Selim sent horsemen in pursuit of the assassin, giving to the negro the
rope that was to strangle him; but they returned without being able to
overtake him, and we soon learned that he had entered the service of
the Pacha of Damascus. He never returned to Corietain.
At the end of a few days my wounds began to heal, and I soon recovered
my strength. Sheik Selim, who had conceived a great friendship for me,
brought me a telescope that was out of order, telling me I should be a
clever fellow if I could mend it. As there was only a glass to replace,
I restored it and brought it to him. He was so pleased with my skill,
that he gave me the surname of “the industrious.”
In a short time we learnt that the Bedouins were approaching Palmyra:
some were seen even in the environs of Corietain. Presently there came
one, named Selame el Hassan. We were at Selim’s when he entered: coffee
was brought, and while we were taking it, many of the inhabitants came
to the sheik, and said: “Eight years ago, at such a place, Hassan
killed our relative; and we are come to demand justice.” Hassan denied
the fact, and asked if they had witnesses. “No,” they replied; “but
you were seen passing alone on the road, and a little after we found
our relative lying dead. We know that there existed a cause of hatred
between you: it is therefore clear that you are his assassin.” Hassan
still denied the charge: and the sheik, who from fear was obliged to
exercise caution with the Bedouins, and besides had no positive proof
in the case, took a piece of wood and said, “By Him who created this
stem, swear that you have not killed their relation.” Hassan took the
wood, looked at it some minutes, and bent down his head; then raising
it towards his accusers, “I will not have,” said he, “two crimes on
my heart,--the one of being the murderer of this man, the other of
swearing falsely before God. It is I who have killed your kinsman: what
do you demand for the price of his blood?”[A] The sheik, from policy,
would not act according to the full rigour of the law; and the persons
present being interested in the negotiation, it was decided that Hassan
should pay three hundred piastres to the relations of the dead. When
it came to the payment of the money, he said he had it not about him,
but that he would bring it in a few days; and as some difficulty was
made of letting him go without security, “I have no pledge,” said he,
“to give; but He will answer for me whose name I would not profane by
a false oath.” He departed; and four days afterwards returned with
fifteen sheep, each worth above twenty piastres.--This trait of good
faith and generosity at once charmed and surprised us. We wished to
make acquaintance with Hassan: Sheik Ibrahim invited him, gave him
a few presents, and we became intimate friends. He told us that he
belonged to the tribe El-Ammour, whose chief was Sultan el Brrak. This
tribe, composed of five hundred tents, is considered as constituting
part of the country, because it never quits the banks of the Euphrates
when the great tribes retire. They sell sheep, camels, and butter, at
Damascus, Homs, Hama, &c. The inhabitants of these different cities
have often a concern in their flocks.
We one day said to Hassan that we were desirous of going to Palmyra
to sell our remaining merchandise, but that we had been alarmed by
the dangers of the road. Having offered to conduct us, he made a note
before the sheik, by which he made himself responsible for all the
disasters that might happen. Being satisfied that Hassan was a man of
honour, we accepted his proposal.