BEDOUINS, HASSANIYEHS, AND MALAGASY.
SIGNIFICATION OF THE NAME -- GENERAL APPEARANCE OF THE BEDOUINS --
THEIR ROBBER NATURE -- HOSPITALITY AND ITS DUTIES -- LIFE AMONG
THE BEDOUINS -- THE BEDOUIN WOMEN -- SIMPLE MODE OF GOVERNMENT --
CONSTANT FEUDS -- MODE OF COOKING -- THE DATE AND ITS USES -- THE
HASSANIYEHS -- GENERAL APPEARANCE -- THEIR VILLAGES -- STRANGE
MARRIAGE CUSTOMS -- A HASSANIYEH DANCE -- SUPERSTITIONS OF THE ARABS
-- THE HAUNTED HOUSE -- NOTIONS OF THE MIRAGE -- THE INK MIRROR
-- THE MALAGASY AND THEIR TRIBES -- THE FIRST BEEF-EATER -- THE
HOVA TRIBE -- ARCHITECTURE -- THE TRAVELLER’S TREE AND ITS USES --
TREATMENT OF SLAVES -- NOTIONS OF RELIGION -- THE BLACKSMITH TRIBE.
Of all the many tribes which are designated by the common title of
Arab, the typical tribes are those which are so well known by the
name of BEDOUIN, or BEDAWEEN. The former is the more familiar mode of
spelling the word, and it will therefore be employed. The name is a
most appropriate one, being derived from an Arabic word which signifies
the desert, and meaning, therefore, a man of the wilderness. The
Bedouins are indeed men of the desert. True Ishmaelites, their hand is
against every man, and every man’s hand against them. They build no
houses, they cultivate no lands, they conduct no merchandise; but are
nomad and predatory, trusting chiefly for their living to the milk of
their camels, and looking upon their horses and dromedaries as means
whereby they can plunder with greater security.
As Mr. Palgrave pithily remarks, while treating of the character of
the Bedouin: “The Bedouin does not fight for his home, he has none;
nor for his country, that is anywhere; nor for his honor, he has never
heard of it: nor for his religion, he owns and cares for none. His only
object in war is the temporary occupation of some bit of miserable
pasture-land, or the use of a brackish well; perhaps the desire to get
such a one’s horse or camel into his own possession.”
In person the Bedouins are fine specimens of the human race. They are
tall, stately, with well-cut features, and have feet and hands that
are proverbial for their beauty. Their demeanor in public is grave
and haughty, and every man walks as if he were monarch of the world.
While other Arab tribes have lost their distinctive manners by contact
with civilization, the Bedouins alone have preserved them, and, even
when they visit the cities which they hate so much, they can be at
once distinguished by their demeanor. Lady Duff-Gordon was greatly
struck with it. “To see a Bedawee and his wife walk through the streets
of Cairo is superb. Her hand resting on his shoulder, and scarcely
deigning to cover her haughty face, she looks down on the Egyptian
veiled woman, who carries the heavy burden and walks behind her lord
and master.”
The dress of the Bedouins is simple enough. The men wear a sort of a
tunic or shirt, covered with a large thick mantle called the haik.
Another cloth is disposed over the head, and falls on either side of
the face so as to shield it from the sun, and is kept in its place by a
cord of camel’s hair, that is wound several times across the brows. As
for the women, they wear a blue shirt, much open at the bosom, and care
for no other clothing.
Being a predatory race, the Bedouins are always armed, their chief
weapon being the spear, which is of enormous length, and often so
weighty that a powerful as well as a practised arm is required to wield
it. At the present day those who can afford fire-arms carry guns of
such length of barrel that they seem to have been made in emulation of
the spear shafts. These weapons are of very indifferent quality, and
the Bedouin is never a good marksman, his clumsy weapon taking a long
time to load, and the owner taking a long time to aim, and then aiming
very badly.
In consequence of the robber nature of the Bedouins, no one will
venture to pass through their districts without being well armed, or
protected by a sufficient escort. At the present day, Europeans can
travel with comparative safety, as they have a way of fighting when
attacked, and of generally hitting their mark when they fire, so
that even the wandering Bedouins have conceived a respect for such
incomprehensible beings, and would rather receive them as guests than
fight them as enemies.
If, however, they come upon a solitary traveller, they pounce upon
him, and rob him of everything, even of his clothes. Still, they are
not brutal about it, except perhaps in enforcing haste by a menacing
gesture with a spear. They seldom accompany robbery with murder, and
have been known to take the traveller whom they have robbed into their
tents, feed him, give him old clothes instead of the new which they
have taken from him, keep him all night, and send him on his journey,
even taking the trouble to accompany him for some distance, lest he
should lose his way. The robber feels no enmity toward the man, and
simply looks on him as a providential benefit cast in his way, and as
such rather respects him than otherwise.
The reader will remember that the Bedouin takes the man to his tent
_after_ he has robbed him. Had he begun operations by allowing the
traveller to enter his tent, and partake of his food, he could not have
robbed his guest afterward. There is a chivalrous sort of feeling in
the Arab mind that the person of a guest is sacred; and if the fiercest
Bedouin had received a man under the shadow of his tent, he would be
bound to protect that man as if he were his own son. So far is this
feeling carried, that instances have been known where a strange Arab
has taken refuge in a tent and received protection, though the owner
discovered that his guest had killed one of his nearest relations.
The only habitations of the Bedouins are their tents. These tents, on
which so much poetry has been lavished, are about as unpoetical as
anything can be. Any one can make a Bedouin tent in five minutes. He
has only to take a few sticks, some five feet in length, thrust one
end into the ground, throw over them a piece of black and very dirty
sackcloth, peg the edges to the ground, and there is the tent. Being
only some four feet in height in the middle, no one can stand upright
in it, and only in the middle can any one even sit upright. But as the
tent is not regarded as we regard a house, and is only used as a sort
of convenient shelter in which the Arabs can sleep, height is of no
importance. The engraving No. 2, on page 670, illustrates a “Bedouin
camp.”
These low, dark tents are almost invariably pitched in the form of a
semicircle, the openings eastward, and just enough space left between
each hut for the passage of their camels and horses. The area inclosed
between the arms of the crescent is intended for the children, as
a place wherein they may disport themselves while still under the
mother’s eye. When new, the tents are mostly striped in broad bands
of two or three feet in width, but the rough usage to which they are
subjected soon destroys the color.
Such are the tents of the ordinary Bedouins. The sheikh, or chief
of each clan, has a larger and better tent, which is divided into
compartments by curtains, so disposed as to leave a set of rooms on the
outside, and one or more rooms in the centre. Those on the outside are
for the men, and those in the interior for the women belonging to the
sheikh’s family. A certain amount of privacy is gained, which belongs,
however, only to the eye and not to the ear, the partitions being
nothing more than curtains, and the Arabs all speaking in the loudest
of voices--a bawling nation, as a French traveller described them.
The furniture is suitable to the dwelling, and consists merely of a
mat or two and a few pots. Some of the wealthier are very proud of
possessing brass mortars in which they pound their coffee, and every
morning is heard the musical tinkle of the coffee-maker. Even the men
condescend to make coffee, and the sheikh himself may be seen at work
in the morning, pounding away at the berries, and rejoicing equally
in the musical sound of the pestle and the fragrant odor of the
freshly-roasted coffee.
Thus bred entirely in the open air, the only shelter being the tattered
sackcloth of the tent, the true Bedouin can endure no other life. He is
as miserable within the walls of a town as a wolf in a trap. His eyes,
accustomed to range over the vast expanse of desert, are affronted by
the walls over which he cannot see. The streets oppress him, and within
the atmosphere of a room he can scarcely breathe. Both he and his camel
are equally out of their element when among civilized people, and
they are ever looking forward to the happy moment when they may again
breathe the free air of the desert.
Life among the Bedouins is not pleasant to a European, and is by no
means the sort of paradisaical existence that we are often led to
think. It is certainly a free life in its way, and has that peculiar
charm which is felt by all civilized beings when first allowed to do
as they like. But it has its drawbacks, not the least being that every
one is equally free; and if a stronger man should choose to assert his
freedom by plundering the traveller, he is at perfect liberty to do so.
Then the “Arab maids,” who look so picturesque--in a painting--are not
quite so pleasant in reality. Dirt, evil odors, screaming voices and
detestable manners are not seen in a picture, but in reality force
themselves on more senses than one. Even in youth the Bedouin girls
are not so handsome as is generally thought. They are tall, well
made, and graceful, but are deficient in that gentleness and softness
which we naturally associate with the feminine nature. They are fond
of tattooing themselves, and cover their arms and chins with blue
patterns, such as stars or arabesque figures. Some of them extend the
tattoo over the breast nearly as low as the waist. The corners of
the eyes are sometimes decorated with this cheap and indestructible
ornament. They are fond of ornaments, especially of ear-rings, which
can scarcely be too large for them.
Unlike the more civilized Mahometans, they care little about veiling
their faces, and, in fact, pass a life nearly as free as that of the
men. Even the women’s apartment of the tent is thrown open by day for
the sake of air, and any one can see freely into it.
Feminine beauty differs as much among the Arabs as among other people.
Mr. Palgrave says wittily that if any one could invent an instrument
which could measure beauty--a kalometer, as he calls it--the Bedouin
would be “represented by zero, or at most 1°. A degree higher would
represent the female sex of Nejed; above them rank the women of Shomer,
who are in their turn surmounted by those of Djowf. The fifth or sixth
degree symbolizes the fair ones of Hasa; the seventh those of Katar;
and lastly, by a sudden rise of ten degrees at least, the seventeenth
or eighteenth would denote the pre-eminent beauties of Oman.
“Arab poets occasionally languish after the charmers of Hejaz; I never
saw anyone to charm _me_, but then I only skirted the province. All
bear witness to the absence of female loveliness in Yamen; and I should
much doubt whether the mulatto races and dusky complexions of Hadramout
have much to vaunt of. But in Hasa a decided improvement in this
important point is agreeably evident to the traveller arriving from
Nejed, and he will be yet further delighted on finding his Calypsos
much more conversible, and having much more too in their conversation,
than those he left behind him in Sedeys and Aared.”
It is popularly thought that Arab manners are like those of the
Turk,--grave, polite, and majestic. The fact is far different. Though,
like the American Indian, the Arab has a proud and stately walk, and
knows well enough how to assume a regally indifferent demeanor on
occasion, he is by nature lively and talkative, not caring very much
what he talks about; and fond of singing Arab songs in that curious
mixture of high screaming falsetto and guttural intonation which he is
pleased to consider vocal music.
Then the general manners are by no means dignified, even when the
Bedouins want to do special honor to a guest. Mr. Palgrave spent
much time among them, and has drawn a vivid picture of life in a
Bedouin encampment. It is no unfavorable one, the inmates being
described as “ajaweed,” or gentlemen--though the author remarks rather
wickedly that, if they were gentlemen, he very much wondered what the
blackguards were like.
“The chief, his family (women excepted), his intimate followers, and
some twenty others, young and old, boys and men, came up, and, after
a kindly salutation Bedouin-wise, seated themselves in a semicircle
before us. Every man held a short crooked stick for camel-driving in
his hand, to gesticulate with in speaking, or to play with in the
intervals of conversation; while the younger members of society, less
prompt in discourse, politely employed their leisure in staring at us,
or in pinching up dried pellets of dirt from the sand, and tossing them
about.
“But how am I to describe their conversation, their questions and
answers, their manners and jests? ‘A sensible person in this city is
like a man tied up among a drove of mules in a stable,’ I once heard
from a respectable stranger in the Syrian town of Homs, a locality
proverbial for the utter stupidity of its denizens. But among Bedouins
in the desert, where the advantages of the stable are wanting, the
guest rather resembles a man in the middle of a field among untied
mules, frisking and kicking their heels in all directions around him.
“Here you may see human nature at its lowest stage, or very nearly.
One sprawls stretched out on the sand, another draws unmeaning lines
with the end of his stick, a third grins, a fourth asks purposeless or
impertinent questions, or cuts jokes meant for wit, but in fact only
coarse in the extreme. Meanwhile the boys thrust themselves forward
without restraint, and interrupt their elders (their betters I can
hardly say) without the smallest respect or deference.
“And yet, in all this, there is no real intention of rudeness, no
desire to annoy--quite the reverse. They sincerely wish to make
themselves agreeable to the new comers, to put them at their ease, nay,
to do them what good service they can, only they do not exactly know
how to set about it. If they violate all laws of decorum or courtesy,
it is out of sheer ignorance, not _malice prepense_. And, amid the
aimlessness of an utterly uncultivated mind, they occasionally show
indications of considerable tact and shrewdness; while, through all the
fickleness proper to man accustomed to no moral or physical restraint,
there appears the groundwork of a manly and generous character, such as
a Persian, for instance, seldom offers.
“Their defects are inherent in their condition, their redeeming
qualities are their own--they have them by inheritance from one of
the noblest races of earth, from the Arabs of inhabited lands and
organized governments. Indeed, after having travelled much and made
pretty intimate acquaintance with many races, African, Asiatic, and
European, I should hardly be inclined to give the preference to any
over the genuine unmixed clans of Central and Eastern Africa. Now these
last-mentioned populations are identical in blood and tongue with the
myriads of the desert, yet how immeasurably inferior! The difference
between a barbarous Highlander and an English gentleman, in ‘Rob Roy’
or ‘Waverley,’ is hardly less striking.”
The resemblance between the gipsy and the Bedouin is almost too
evident to need mention, and the author of this passage has here drawn
attention to the singular resemblance between the Bedouin and the
Highlander, as described by Scott. There is, however, in the “Legend
of Montrose,” a passage which is worthy of being quoted in this place,
so strangely close is the parallel. It occurs in the scene where the
wounded Mac-Eogh is dying in prison, and is giving his last commands
to his grandson. “Keep thou unsoiled the freedom which I leave thee
as a birthright. Barter it not, neither for the rich garment, nor for
the stone roof, nor for the covered board, nor for the couch of down.
Son of the Mist, be free as thy forefathers. Own no land--receive
no law--take no hire--give no stipend--build no hut--inclose no
pasture--sow no grain.... Begone--shake the dust from thy feet against
the habitations of men, whether banded together for peace or war.”
Shift the scene from Scotland to Arabia, and no more appropriate words
could have been put into the mouth of a dying Bedouin chief.
With characters so impatient of control, it is evident that there can
be no government worthy of the name. Like the Son of the Mist, they
acknowledge no lord, and there is no one who bears even by courtesy the
title of King of the Bedouins. Each clan is governed by its own sheikh,
and occasionally a few clans unite for some raid under the presidency
of the eldest or most important sheikh, and remain united for some
time. But his rule only lasts as long as the others choose to obey him,
and instead of being a sovereign, or even a commander-in-chief, he is
but _primus inter pares_.
The clans themselves vary exceedingly in numbers, and, as a general
rule, each clan consists of one family, gathered together after the
patriarchal system. Then if one of the men should happen to excel his
fellows he is sure to get together a band of followers, to separate in
time from his family, and found a clan of his own.
In consequence of this insubordinate nature, war, as we understand it,
is impossible, simply because discipline cannot be maintained. If,
for example, several clans unite under the presidency of one of their
number, should one of the confederated sheikhs feel dissatisfied with
the commander, he will go off together with his people, and probably
join another who is more to his mind.
Though war is unknown, the Bedouins live in a chronic state of feud,
no one knowing whether his encampment may not be assailed by another
clan, all his little property--dress included--torn from him, if he
submits, and his throat very probably cut if he resists. No one ever
thinks of giving notice of attack, or of fighting anything like equal
numbers. Should they not be far superior in numbers, they contrive to
project their assault secretly, and to take their victims by surprise,
and the man who is most ingenious in planning such raids, and the most
active and courageous in carrying them out, is sure to be the man who
will rise to a sort of eminence in his own clan, and finish by founding
one of his own. The only object of such a raid is the acquisition of
property; and even a handsome horse, or a remarkably swift dromedary,
will cause the destruction of a whole clan.
Living in the desert, and only travelling from one fertile spot to
another, they cannot be expected to be very delicate in regard to
provisions, nor to possess any great skill in cookery. Their greatest
luxury is a feast on boiled mutton and the whole process of cooking and
serving is almost ludicrously simple. The body of a sheep is cut up and
thrown into a pot, together with a sufficiency of water. The pot is
then placed on the fire, and in process of time it boils. When it is
about two-thirds cooked, according to our ideas, the hungry Bedouins
can wait no longer; it is all turned into a large wooden bowl, and
the guests assemble round it. Their hands are plunged into the bowl,
the scalding and half-raw meat is quickly torn to pieces, and in five
minutes nothing is left but the cleanly picked bones. No vegetables
are added to it, and no condiments are thought needful. Water is then
passed round in another bowl or pail, a deep draught is taken, and the
feast is over.
The bread of the Bedouin is as simple as the cookery. The baker pours a
few handfuls of flour upon a circular piece of leather, pours a little
water upon it, and kneads it into dough. Another man has in the mean
time been preparing a fire, and, as soon as it burns up, the dough is
patted into a thin circular cake, about one inch thick and six inches
diameter. This is laid on the fire and covered with embers, and after
being turned once or twice, and the ashes brushed off, it is taken
from the fire, broken up, and eaten as it is--“half-kneaded, half-raw,
half-roasted, and burnt all round.” Were it not eaten while still hot,
it would become so tough and leathery that not even a Bedouin could
eat it. In fact, it very much resembles the rough-and-ready bread of
the Australian shepherds, which is so well known under the name of
“damper.” One advantage of this style of bread is, that it can be
readily cooked on a journey, and, on special occasions, a camel-rider
can even bake his bread while on the back of his dromedary.
The date is, however, the chief resource of the Bedouin, and on that
fruit alone he can exist for a long time, even through the many
hardships which he has to endure in his journeying through the desert.
In England we do not know what the date really is, nor can understand
the rich lusciousness of the fruit before it is dried and preserved. In
the latter state it is very heating to a European, and slightly so even
to a native, whereas in its fresh state it has no such evil qualities.
It contains a marvellous amount of nourishment, and when fresh does not
cloy the palate, as is always the case when it is dried.
In consequence of this nourishing property of the fruit, the date tree
is not only valued, but absolutely honored. The Arab addresses it as
his mother, and treats it with as much reverence as if it were really
his parent. A single date tree is a valuable property among all Arab
tribes, and, although the genuine Bedouins own none, they reverence it
as much as their more stationary brethren. Cutting down the date trees
of an enemy is looked upon as the last extremity of cruelty, while
planting the trees on a new piece of ground is a sign of peace and
prosperity.
The date is eaten in various ways. It is usually preferred while fresh
and full of its own sweet juices, but, as it cannot be kept fresh very
long, it is dried, pressed together, and so stored for future use. When
the dried date forms a portion of a feast, the fruit is served in a
large wooden bowl, in the middle of which is a cup containing melted
butter. Each guest then picks out the dates singly from the mass, and
dips each slightly into the butter before eating it.
There are many qualities of dates, and the best, which grow at Kaseem,
are in great estimation, and are largely imported to the non-producing
parts of Arabia. At Kaseem, the date-palm is cultivated to a great
extent, and probably owes its peculiar excellence to the constant
presence of water six or seven feet below the surface of the ground.
The ripening season corresponds with our autumn, extending through the
latter part of August and the beginning of September.
Some connoisseurs, however, prefer the Khalas date. It grows only in
Hasa, and fully deserves its name, which signifies quintessence. It is
smaller than the Kaseem date, semi-transparent, and of a rich amber
color. The sale of this particular date brings in a large income to
Hasa, the fruit being exported as far as Bombay and Zanzibar.
Of religion, the genuine Bedouin has not the least idea. He is
nominally a Mahometan, and will repeat certain formulæ with perfect
accuracy. He will say his Bismillahs, and Mashallahs, and other pious
ejaculations as well as any one, but he has not the least idea who
Allah may be, neither does he care. As far as Mr. Palgrave could
ascertain, their only idea of Allah was that of a very great sheikh,
who would have about the same authority over them in the next world as
their own sheikh in this sphere. That is to say, they consider that
they will be quite as independent after death as before, and that
they will acknowledge allegiance to this great sheikh as long as they
choose, and no longer.
Like all men who are ignorant of religion, they are superstitious in
proportion to their ignorance. Profoundly illiterate themselves, they
have the greatest reverence for book-learning, and any one who can
read a book is respected, while he who can write as well as read is
regarded with a curious mixture of admiration, envy, and fear. The
latter feeling is excited by his presumed ability of writing saphiès,
or charms, which are mostly sentences from the Koran, and are supposed
to possess every imaginable virtue.
Before leaving the Bedouin Arabs, a few words must be said about the
Arab and his horse. Many tales are told of the love that exists between
the animal and its master, of the attention which is lavished on a
favorite mare, and how she and her colt inhabit the tent together with
the children, and are all playfellows together. This certainly may be
the case occasionally, but not invariably. That they are brought up
in close contact is true enough, and that the animal thereby acquires
an intelligence which it never could possess under less sociable
treatment. But the Arab has no more real affection for his steed than
has many an English gentleman for his favorite horse; and, if he be
angered, he is capable of treating the animal with hasty cruelty.
THE HASSANIYEH.
We are come to a branch of the Arabs called the Hassaniyeh, who inhabit
a large tract of land south of Khartoum. They are paler in complexion
than those of whom we have already treated, having a decided tinge of
yellow in their skins. They are slight, tall and straight-featured.
The men part their hair in the middle, plait it into long braids, and
fasten it at the back of the head, so that they have rather a feminine
aspect.
The villages of the Hassaniyeh are mere assemblages of slight huts,
circular in shape, and having conical roofs, with a hole in the centre
by way of a chimney. The walls are made of sticks and reeds, and the
roofs of straw, and at a little distance the huts look more like tents
than houses. Each hut is surrounded with a fence of thorns.
As among other Arab tribes, the sheikh’s house is much larger and
better than those of the commonalty, and is divided into several
chambers. Sometimes a sort of second hut is placed in the interior, is
made of fine yellow grass, and is inhabited by the women. Now and then
a sheikh has his tent covered with camel’s-hair cloth, and one of them,
seen by Mr. Bayard Taylor, was thirty feet in length, and contained two
inner chambers. The walls were covered with skins, gourds, and similar
articles; the principal chamber contained a large bedstead or angarep;
and the cloth roof was decorated with great quantities of cowrie
shells, sewed upon it in crosses, stars, and other patterns.
The people have some very strange customs, among which is one that is
almost peculiar to themselves, though an analogous custom prevails
in one or two parts of the world. A woman when she marries does not
merge her identity entirely in that of her husband, but reserves to
herself one-fourth of her life. Consequently, on every fourth day she
is released from her marriage vows; and, if she happens to take a fancy
to any man, the favored lover may live with her for four-and-twenty
hours, during which time the husband may not enter the hut. With this
curious exception, the Hassaniyeh women are not so immoral as those of
many parts of the world. When a traveller passes through the country,
they are bound to fulfil the rites of hospitality by assigning him a
house during the time of his visit, and lending him a wife for the same
period. Mr. Taylor suggests that if the Hassaniyeh would also lend him
a family of children their generosity would be complete.
When a stranger of rank visits their domains, they perform a curious
dance of welcome by way of salutation. Mr. Bayard Taylor has well
described one of these dances which he witnessed on his voyage to
Khartoum. He had won the hearts of the people by presenting them with
a handful of tobacco and fourpence in copper. “In a short time I
received word that the women of the village would come to perform a
dance of welcome and salutation, if I would allow them. As the wind was
blowing strongly against us and the sailors had not finished skinning
the sheep, I had my carpet spread on the sand in the shade of a group
of mimosas, and awaited their arrival.
“Presently we heard a sound of shrill singing and the clapping of
hands in measured beat, and discerned the procession advancing slowly
through the trees. They came two by two, nearly thirty in all, singing
a shrill, piercing chorus, which sounded more like lamentation than
greeting.
“When they had arrived in front of me, they ranged themselves into a
semicircle, with their faces toward me, and, still clapping their hands
to mark the rhythm of the song, she who stood in the centre stepped
forth, with her breast heaved almost to a level with her face, which
was thrown back, and advanced with a slow undulating motion, till
she had reached the edge of my carpet. Then, with a quick jerk, she
reversed the curve of her body, throwing her head forward and downward,
so that the multitude of her long twists of black hair, shining with
butter, brushed my cap. This was intended as a salutation and sign of
welcome; I bowed my head at the same time, and she went back to her
place in the ranks.
“After a pause the chorus was resumed and another advanced, and so
in succession, till all had saluted me, a ceremony which occupied an
hour. They were nearly all young, between the ages of fourteen and
twenty, and some were strikingly beautiful. They had the dark-olive
Arab complexion, with regular features, teeth of pearly whiteness, and
black, brilliant eyes. The coarse cotton robe thrown over one shoulder
left free the arms, neck, and breasts, which were exquisitely moulded.
Their bare feet and ankles were as slender as those of the Venus of
Cleomenes.”
All the women took their part successively in this curious dance, and
by far the most beautiful and graceful of them was the wife of the
sheikh, a young woman barely twenty years old, with features compared
by Mr. Taylor to those of Guido’s Cleopatra, the broad round forehead,
full oval face, and regal bearing all adding to the resemblance. Her
hair was plaited into at least fifty braids, and was thickly plastered
with butter, and upon her head was a diadem of white beads. She moved
with a stately grace down the line, and so charmed were the guests with
her mode of performing the curious salutation, that she repeated it
several times for their gratification.
Even the men took part in the dance, and one of them, a splendid
example of the purest Arab blood, possessed so perfect a form, and
moved in the dance with such entire and absolute grace, that he even
drew away the traveller’s attention from the women.
* * * * *
We now come to some of the manners and customs of the Arabs, which
are not restricted to certain tribes, but are characteristic of the
Arab nature. Some of them are remarkable for the fact that they have
survived through many centuries, and have resisted the influence of
a comparatively new religion, and the encroachments of a gradually
advancing civilization.
As may be expected, their superstitions have undergone but little
change, and the learned and most civilized Arab acknowledges their
power in his heart as well as the ignorant and half-savage Arab who
never saw a book or entered a house. He will not openly admit that
he believes in these superstitions, but he does believe in them very
firmly, and betrays his belief in a thousand ways. Educated though he
be, he has a lingering faith in the efficacy of written charms; and
if he should happen to see in the possession of another man a scrap
of paper covered with characters he does not understand, he will feel
uneasy as often as the mysterious writing occurs to him. Should he get
such a piece of paper into his own possession, he cherishes it fondly,
and takes care to conceal it from others.
In consequence of this widely-diffused superstition, travellers have
passed safely through large tracts of country, meeting with various
tribes of Arabs, all at variance with each other, in true Arab fashion,
and yet have managed to propitiate them by the simple process of
writing a sentence or two of any language on a scrap of paper. One
favorite form of the “saphiès,” as these written charms are called,
exhibits a curious mixture of medicine and literature. A man who is
ill, or who wants a charm to prevent him from being ill, brings to the
saphiè writer a smooth board, a pen and ink. The saphiè is written on
the board, and the happy possessor takes it home, washes off every
vestige of the writing, and then drinks the blackened water.
Even at the present day, the whole of the Arabian tribes have the full
and implicit belief in the Jinns, Efreets, Ghouls, and other superhuman
beings, that forms the chief element in the “Arabian Nights.” This
belief is inbred with them, and no amount of education can drive it out
of them. They do not parade this belief, nor try to conceal it, but
accept the existence of these beings as an acknowledged fact which no
one would dream of disputing.
According to their ideas, every well has its peculiar spirit, mostly
an efreet or semi-evil genius, and every old tower is peopled with
them, and there is scarcely a house that has not at least one spirit
inmate. Many of the Arabs say that they have seen and conversed with
the efreets, and relate very curious adventures. Generally, the efreet
is harmless enough, if he be only let alone, but sometimes he becomes
so troublesome that strong measures must be used. What was done in the
way of exorcism before the discovery of fire-arms is not known, but in
the present day, when an efreet can be seen, he can be destroyed by a
bullet as if he were a human being.
Mr. Lane relates a most curious story of such an encounter. It is so
interesting, and is so well told, that nothing but our very limited
space prevents its insertion. The gist of it, however, is as follows:--
An European lady had been looking after a house in Cairo, and at last
had found a very handsome one, with a large garden, for a very low
rent--scarcely more than £12 per annum. She took the house, which
pleased her well enough, though it did not have the same effect on
the maid-servants, all of whom left it as soon as possible. At last
the reason came out. The house was haunted by an efreet, which lived
mostly in the bath, and at night used to go about the house, banging
at the doors, knocking against the walls, and making such a perpetual
riot that he had frightened tenant after tenant out of it, and kept the
house to himself. The family had heard the noises, but attributed them
to the festivities which had been going on for some time at the next
house.
In spite of the change of servants, the noises continued, and rather
increased than decreased in violence. “Very frequently the door of
the room in which we were sitting, late in the evening within two or
three hours of midnight, was violently knocked at many short intervals.
At other times it seemed as if something very heavy fell upon the
pavement, close under the windows of the same room or one adjoining;
and, as these rooms were on the top of the house, we imagined at first
that some stones or other things had been thrown by a neighbor, but
we could find nothing outside after the noise I have mentioned. The
usual sounds continued during the greater part of the night, and were
generally varied with a heavy tramping, like the walking of a person in
large clogs, varied by knocking at the doors of many of the apartments,
and at the large water-jars, which are placed in recesses in the
galleries.”
During the fast of Ramadhan the house was free from noises, as efreets
are supposed to be imprisoned during that season, but as soon as it was
over they recommenced with added violence. After a while, the efreet
began to make himself visible, and a new door-keeper was greatly amazed
by hearing and seeing the figure walking nightly round the gallery. He
begged to be allowed to fire at it, and at last he was permitted to do
so, provided that he only used blank cartridge. The man, however, not
only put balls into his pistol, but loaded it with two bullets and a
double charge of powder. Just about midnight the report of the pistol
rang through the house, followed by the voice of the door-keeper,
crying out, “There he lies, the accursed!” and accompanied by sounds as
of a a wounded creature struggling and gasping for breath.
The man continued to call to his fellow-servants to come up, and the
master of the house ran at once to the spot. The door-keeper said that
the efreet had appeared in his usual shape, a tall white figure, and
on being asked to leave the house, refused to do so. He then passed as
usual down the passage, when the man fired at him and struck him down.
“Here,” said he, “are the remains.” So saying, he picked up, under the
spot where the bullets had entered the wall, a small mass of something
that looked like scorched leather, perforated by fire in several
places, and burnt to a cinder. This, it appears, is always the relic
which is left when an efreet is destroyed. Ever afterward the house was
free from disturbance.
The reader will notice the curious resemblance to the efreet stories
in the “Arabian Nights,” more especially to the story of the Second
Calender, in which the efreet and the princess who fought him were
both reduced to ashes. The idea, too, of the wells being inhabited by
efreets repeatedly occurs in those wonderful tales.
Another curious tale of the efreet was told to Mr. Taylor by an Arab of
some rank. He was walking one night near Cairo, when he saw a donkey
near him. The animal seemed to be without an owner, and, as he happened
to be rather tired, he mounted, and rode on his way pleasantly. In a
short time, however, he became startled by finding that the donkey
was larger than it was when he mounted it, and no sooner had he made
this discovery than the animal increased rapidly in size, and in a few
minutes was as large as a camel. Of course he was horribly frightened,
but he remembered that a disguised efreet could be detected by wounding
him with a sharp instrument. Accordingly, he cautiously drew his
dagger, and was about to plunge it into the animal’s back. The efreet,
however, was too clever for him, and, as soon as he saw the dagger,
suddenly shrunk to his former size, kicked off his rider, and vanished
with a peal of laughter and the exclamation, “Oh, you want to ride, do
you?”
According to the Arab belief, the spirit of man is bound to pass a
certain time on earth, and a natural death is the token of reaching
that time. Should he be killed by violence, his spirit haunts the spot
where his body was buried, and remains there until the term on earth
has been fulfilled. The same Arab told Mr. Taylor that for many years,
whenever he passed by night over the place where Napoleon defeated the
Mamelukes, the noise of battle was heard, the shouts of the soldiers,
the cries of the wounded, and the groans of the dying. At first the
sounds were loud, as of a multitude; but year by year they gradually
decreased, as the time of earthly sojourn expired, and at the time when
he told the story but few could be heard.
Among some of the tribes they have a rather odd superstition. A
traveller was struck with the tastefulness of a young girl’s headdress,
and wanted to buy it. She was willing enough to sell it for the liberal
price which was offered, but her father prohibited the sale, on the
ground that from the headdress could be made a charm which would force
the girl to fly to the possessor, no matter in what part of the world
he might be.
It is not wonderful that, saturated as they are with these ideas, many
of the wonders of nature appear to them to be of supernatural origin.
Chief among them is that extraordinary phenomenon, the mirage, in which
a place far below the horizon is suddenly made visible, and appears
to be close at hand. Even in our own country we have had examples of
the mirage, though not in so striking a manner as is often seen among
the sandy plains of Arabia. Water is a favorite subject of the mirage,
and the traveller, as he passes over the burning plains, sees before
him a rolling river or a vast lake, the palm trees waving on its edge
and reflected on its surface, and the little wavelets rippling along
as driven by the wind. Beasts as well as men see it, and it is hardly
possible to restrain the thirsty camels from rushing to the seeming
water.
The Arabs call the mirage, “Water of the Jinns,” and believe that it
is an illusion caused by the jinns--our old friends the geni of “The
Arabian Nights.” A very vivid account of this phenomenon is given in
St. John’s “Egypt and Nubia:”--
“I had been riding along in a reverie, when, chancing to raise my head,
I thought I perceived, desertward, a dark strip on the far horizon.
What could it be? My companion, who had very keen sight, was riding
in advance of me, and, with a sudden exclamation, he pulled up his
dromedary and gazed in the same direction. I called to him, and asked
him what he thought of yonder strip, and whether he could make out
anything in it distinctly. He answered that water had all at once
appeared there; that he saw the motion of the waves, and tall palms and
other trees bending up and down over them, as if tossed by a strong
wind. An Arab was at my side, with his face muffled up in his burnous;
I roused his attention, and pointed to the object of our inquiry.
‘Mashallah!’ cried the old man, with a face as if he had seen a ghost,
and stared with all his might across the desert.
“All the other Arabs of the party evinced no less emotion; and our
interpreter called out to us, that what we saw was the evil spirit
of the desert, that led travellers astray, luring them farther and
farther into the heart of the waste, ever retreating before them as
they pursued it, and not finally disappearing till its deluded victims
had irrecoverably lost themselves in the pathless sands. This, then,
was the mirage. My companion galloped toward it, and we followed him,
though the Arabs tried to prevent us, and erelong I could with my own
eyes discern something of this strange phenomenon. It was, as my friend
reported, a broad sheet of water, with fresh green trees along its
banks; and yet there was nothing actually before us but parched yellow
sand. The apparition occasioned us all very uncomfortable feelings,
and yet we congratulated ourselves in having seen for once the desert
wonder.
“The phenomenon really deserves the name the Arabs give it, of Goblin
of the Desert; an evil spirit that beguiles the wanderer from the safe
path, and mocks him with a false show of what his heated brain paints
in glowing colors. Whence comes it that this illusion at first fills
with uneasiness--I might even say with dismay--those even who ascribe
its existence to natural causes? On a spot where the bare sands spread
out for hundreds of miles, where there is neither tree nor shrub, nor a
trace of water, there suddenly appeared before us groups of tall trees,
proudly girdling the running stream, on whose waves we saw the sunbeams
dancing. Hills clad in pleasant green rose before us and vanished;
small houses, and towns with high walls and ramparts, were visible
among the trees, whose tall boles swayed to and fro in the wind like
reeds.
“Far as we rode in the direction of the apparition, we never came any
nearer to it; the whole seemed to recoil step by step with our advance.
We halted, and remained long in contemplation of the magic scene,
until whatever was unpleasant in its strangeness ceased by degrees to
affect us. Never had I seen any landscape so vivid as this seeming one,
never water so bright, or trees so softly green, so tall and stately.
Everything seemed far more charming there than in the real world; and
so strongly did we feel this attraction that, although we were not
driven by thirst to seek for water where water there was none, still
we would willingly have followed on and on after the phantom; and thus
we could well perceive how the despairing wanderer, who with burning
eyes thinks he gazes on water and human dwellings, will struggle onward
to his last gasp to reach them, until his fearful, lonely doom befalls
him.” This singular illusion and its effect upon travellers is well
illustrated by the artist, on the 679th page.
“We returned slowly to our Arabs, who had not stirred from the spot
where we left them. Looking back once more into the desert, we saw the
apparition gradually becoming fainter, until at last it melted away
into a dim land, not unlike a thin mist sweeping over the face of a
field (Hochländer). It was probably this phenomenon, which is beheld
as well in Hadramaut and Yemen as in the deserts of Egypt, which gave
rise to the fable of the Garden of Irem, described in the story of the
Phantom Camel, in the ‘Tales of the Ramad’han.’”
I cannot part from the Arab superstitions without mentioning one which
is of very great antiquity, and which has spread itself widely over the
world. I allude to the celebrated ink-mirror of the Arab magicians, in
which they see, through the eyes of another, the events of the future
and the forms of persons far distant.
The mirror is made as follows:--The magician calls a very young boy,
not old enough, according to their ideas, to be tainted with sin, and
makes him sit on the ground. The magician sits opposite him, holding
the boy’s opened right hand in his, and after repeating prayers, and
burning incense, he draws a crossed square on the palm of the hand--thus
-|-|-
-|-|-
--writes cabalistic words in all the angles, and pours about a spoonful
of ink into the centre. More prayers and suffumigations follow, and the
boy is then directed to look closely into the ink. Should he be really
pure, and a fit subject for the magic art, he sees a series of figures,
always beginning with a man sweeping the ground, and ending with a
camp, with the sultan’s tent and flag in the centre. These vanish, and
the mirror is left clear for any figure which may be invoked.
All parties seem to have the most implicit belief in the proceeding;
and though several boys in succession may fail to see anything but the
reflection of their own faces, the failure is set down to their bad
moral character, and others are tried until one is found who possesses
the requisite vision. It is a curious fact that the magician himself
never pretends to this inner sight, the sins which he has committed
being an effectual hindrance. Educated Europeans have often witnessed
this curious ceremony, and have given different accounts of it. With
some it has been an utter failure, the boy evidently trying to deceive,
and inventing, according to his ability, scenes which are supposed to
be represented in the mirror. With others it has been as singular a
success, European scenes and persons have been described accurately
by the boy, though the greatest care was taken that no clue should be
given either to the magician or the boy.
MADAGASCAR.
We complete the account of African tribes with a brief notice of
some of the tribes which inhabit the island of Madagascar. For my
information I am chiefly indebted to Ellis’s well-known work, and
to a valuable paper read by Lieutenant Oliver, R. A., before the
Anthropological Society of London. on March 3, 1868.
The name of Madagascar is entirely of European invention, the native
name for this great island being Nosindambo, _i. e._ the island of wild
hogs. The inhabitants are known by the general name of Malagasy, and
they are divided into several tribes. These tribes differ from each
other in their color, mode of dress, and other particulars, and may be
roughly divided according to their color into the fair and the dark
tribes, each consisting of four in number, and ranging through almost
every shade of skin, from the light olive of the Hovas to the black
tribes of the south. According to Ellis the entire population is only
three millions, while Lieutenant Oliver, who gives the approximate
numbers of each tribe, estimates them at five millions.
The origin of the Malagasy is rather obscure, and, although so close
to the continent of Africa, they have scarcely anything in common with
the African races. The hypothesis which has been generally accepted
is that they are of Malay origin, their ancestors having been in all
probability blown out to sea in their canoes, and eventually landed on
the island. That they are not of African origin has been argued from
several points, while they have many habits belonging to the oceanic
race. For example, although they are so close to Africa, they have
never adopted the skin dresses which are generally found throughout the
savage races of the continent, but, on the contrary, make use of the
hibiscus bark beaten out exactly after the fashion of the Polynesians.
“It is evident,” writes Lieutenant Oliver, “that the Malagasy have
never deteriorated from any original condition of civilization,
for there are no relics of primæval civilization to be found in
the country. Yet the Malagasy seem to have considerably advanced
themselves in the art of building houses, and originating elaborate
fortifications, which they have themselves modified to suit their
offensive and defensive weapons, previous to any known intercourse
with civilized people. They had domesticated oxen, and pigs, and made
advances in the cultivation of rice, yams, &c.; but whether by their
own unaided intellect, or by external example, we cannot say.”
With regard to the domestication of cattle, they themselves refer
it to a very recent date, and even state that the use of beef was
accidentally discovered during the last century. A chief named Rabiby
was superintending the planting of his rice, when he noticed that one
of his men was remarkable for his increase in strength and corpulence,
and interrogated him on the subject. The man told him that some time
previously he happened to kill a bullock, and had the curiosity to
cook some of the meat. Finding it to be remarkably good, he continued
to kill and eat, and so improved his bodily condition. Rabiby very
wisely tried the experiment for himself, and, finding it successful,
had a bullock killed, and gave a feast to his companions. The general
impression was so favorable that he gave orders for building folds in
which the cattle might be collected, and he further extended the native
diet by the flesh of the wild hog. The original folds built by his
orders are still in existence.
Chief among the Malagasy are the HOVA tribe, who have gradually
extended themselves over a considerable portion of the island, and are
now virtually its masters. They are the lightest in color of all the
tribes, and have more of the Spanish than the negro expression. The
hair is black, long, and abundant, and is worn in several fashions. The
men usually cut the hair rather short, and arrange it over the forehead
and temples much after the style that was prevalent in the days of the
Regency. The women spend much time over their hair, sometimes frizzing
it out until they remind the spectator of the Fiji race, and sometimes
plaiting it into an infinity of braids, and tying them in small knots
or bunches all over the head.
Their dress has something of the Abyssinian type. Poor people wear
little except a cloth twisted round their loins, while the more wealthy
wear a shirt covered with a mantle called a lamba. This article of
apparel is disposed as variously as the Abyssinian’s tobe. The Hovas
are distinguished by having their lambas edged with a border of five
broad stripes. Their houses, to which allusion has already been made,
are formed exclusively of vegetable materials. The walls are formed
by driving rows of posts into the ground at unequal distances, and
filling in the spaces with the strong leaf-stalks of the “traveller’s
tree.” Each leaf-stalk is about ten feet in length, and they are fixed
in their places by flat laths. The roof is thatched with the broad
leaves of the same tree, tied firmly on the very steep rafters. The
eaves project well beyond the walls, so as to form a veranda round the
house, under which the benches are placed. The floor is covered with a
sort of boarding made of the traveller’s tree. The bark is stripped off
and beaten flat, so as to form boards of twenty feet or so in length,
and fifteen inches in width. These boards are laid on the floor, and,
although they are not nailed, they keep their places firmly.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING IN MADAGASCAR. (See page 693.)]
This traveller’s tree is one of the most useful plants in Madagascar.
It is a sort of palm, and its broad leaves, besides supplying thatch
and walls for the houses, furnish a copious supply of fresh water. The
water is found in the hollow formed by the manner in which the base of
the leaf-stem embraces the trunk from which it springs, and the liquid
is obtained by piercing the leaf-stem with a spear. A full quart of
water is obtained from each leaf, and it is so pure that the natives
will rather walk a little distance to a traveller’s tree, than supply
themselves with water from a stream at their feet.
The Malagasy have some knowledge of musical sounds, and have invented
some instruments which are far superior to those of the African tribes.
One of the best is the violin. It is played with a bow equally rude
in character, and, although the sounds which it produces are not
particularly harmonious to English ears, they are at all events quite
as agreeable as those produced by the stringed instruments of China,
Japan, or Turkey.
Slavery exists among the Malagasy, but is not of a very severe
character, and may possibly, through the exertions of the missionaries,
become extinguished altogether. The slaves do all the hard work of the
place, which is really not very hard, and, as they take plenty of time
over everything that they do, their work would be thought very light by
an ordinary English laborer. Drawing water is perhaps the hardest labor
the female slaves undergo, and it is not such very hard work after all.
They draw the water by means of cows’ horns tied to ropes, and pour it
into ingenious pails made of bamboo. The hardest work which the men
do is acting as bearer to their master’s hammock or litter, and, as
the roads often lie through uncleared forests, and are very rough and
rocky, they have a fatiguing task. These litters are very convenient,
and are covered with a roof to shield the occupant from the sun. They
are rather unwieldy, and sometimes as many as twenty or thirty men are
attached to each litter, some bearing the poles on their shoulders, and
others dragging it by ropes, while the whole proceedings are directed
by a superintendent. The engraving on the preceding page illustrates
the mode of travelling in Madagascar.
Within the last few years, Christianity has made wonderful progress
among the Malagasy, although at first missionaries were driven out,
and the native converts put to death with frightful tortures. The old
superstitions, however, still remain, but they are of a more harmless
character than is generally the case with the superstitions of a
people who are only beginning to emerge out of the savage state. All
reptiles, especially snakes, are regarded with great veneration.
Whether any of the serpents are poisonous is not clearly ascertained,
though the natives deny that venomous snakes are found on the island.
Be this as it may, they never kill a snake, and, even if a large
serpent should come into their house, they merely guide it through the
doorway with sticks, telling it to go away.
They do not appear to possess idols, though Mr. Ellis found certain
objects to which a sort of worship was paid. These were simply “pieces
of wood about nine feet high, not square and smooth at the base, but
spreading into two or three branches at about five feet from the
ground, and gradually tapering to a point.” Near them was a large
basaltic stone, about five feet high, and of its natural prismatic
form, and near it was another stone, smooth and rounded, and about as
large as a man’s head. The natives said that blood was poured on one
stone, and fat burned on the other, but they were very averse to any
conversation on the subject, and very probably did not tell the truth.
Some of their domestic superstitions--if we may use such a term--are
rather curious. Mr. Ellis had noticed that on several occasions a spot
of white paint had been placed on the forehead, or a white circle drawn
round the eye. One morning, he found these marks adorning nearly the
whole of his bearers. On inquiring into the cause of this decoration,
he found that it was a charm to avert the consequences of bad dreams.
As, however, they had partaken copiously of beef on the preceding
evening, the cause of the bad dreams was clearly more material than
spiritual.
Partly connected with their superstitious ideas is the existence of
a distinct class, the Zanakambony. They are hereditary blacksmiths,
and are exempt from forced labor except in their own line, so that,
as Lieutenant Oliver writes, they will make a spade, but cannot be
compelled to use it. They have the right of carrying deceased kings
to the grave, and building monuments over them. They are very proud,
and behave most arrogantly to other clans, refusing to associate with
them, to eat with them, or even to lend them any article to be defiled
by the touch of plebeian hands. As they will not even condescend to
the ordinary labor of their countrymen, and think that even to build a
house is a degradation, they are very poor; as they refuse to associate
with others, they are very ignorant, but they console themselves for
their inferiority in wealth and learning by constantly dwelling on
their enormous superiority in rank.