THE GRAVES OF DEAD EMPIRES
(MOSUL TO BAGHDAD)
The road from Amadia to Mosul is tolerably easy, by comparison, as the
successive ranges sink gradually toward the Mesopotamian level. We had
timed our journey craftily; it being now fairly hot in the lowlands; for
we wished the moon to be full on the night that we emerged from the
mountains, so that we might travel by her light across the plain to
Mosul. A journey by day across the Mosul plain is not to be undertaken
too lightly in summer, when the thermometer registers 120° in the shade.
By night it is comfortable enough, and the moon makes the journey easy;
though we own that it is very sleepy work at times. On this occasion the
writer accomplished a feat that had previously been always beyond him,
viz. that of sleeping in the saddle as the horse walked on. The nap can
hardly have been a long one, but he achieved a real dream, and it was
not terminated by a collapse into the dust.
By day, the heat is very trying, and there is a real danger occasionally
in that strange phenomenon the "_Sâm_." This is apparently a very small
whirlwind, akin to those which cause the "dust-devils" common enough in
the land at all times, but composed of intensely heated air, flavoured
often with sulphurous fumes. A man struck by it simply collapses, and
unless prompt attendance can be given him he dies in a few minutes. The
face is "blackened," and decomposition sets in very speedily. The
natives not unnaturally refer to it as a "Poison wind."
The phenomenon wanders about in the freakish fashion that we associate
with the American tornadoes, though it never is dangerous, like them,
from its mere pace and power. It will take one man out of a straggling
party, or even a man on horse-back, while leaving his horse and his
companion on foot unscathed.
A British Consul has told the writer how on one occasion, turning to
speak to his kavass who was riding a few yards behind him, he suddenly
felt the hot blast and smelt the sulphurous fumes; while the kavass
collapsed, and fell from his horse as if he had been shot. Prompt
attention and stimulants revived the sufferer on that occasion, but it
was a narrow escape. Had he been alone he would have died past question.
Nobody seems to have investigated the matter scientifically, or to have
compared it with like phenomena in other lands (such as Scinde for
instance) where conditions are similar. It is really not surprising that
the natives should put down the effect to a blow from a malignant
"Jinn," though one suspects that as a matter of fact the explanation is
this. Sudden contact with the heated, sulphur-laden blast of the little
whirlwind just "tips the balance," and induces a stroke of heat-apoplexy
in cases where the victim is already verging on that condition. Possibly
the _Sâm_ is a last legacy of the now quiescent volcanoes; for similar
sulphurous eddies, of a far less violent description, were playing about
the surface of the sea off the Riviera coastline for some time after the
great earthquake at San Remo in 1887.
In Mosul the hospitable Consulate received us once more, while the
_keleg_ that was to take us down the Tigris to Baghdad was in process of
construction. A _keleg_ is probably one of the most ancient types of
river craft in the world, and is built in this wise. First, a frame of
light poles, much like hop-poles, is tied fairly firmly together with
cord. This may be of any size, but a fair-sized one for a small party is
perhaps twelve feet square. Next a number of sheep-skins, each taken
from the animal with the minimum of cutting, and with all apertures
firmly tied up, are fastened beneath that frame. A _keleg_ of the size
named requires about 100 skins. These are inflated by the lungs of the
_kelegji_, through a reed inserted into one of the legs of the skin; and
the legs also form convenient points for attachment to the frame.
Finally a few heavy logs, usually poplar or walnut trunks sawn in half,
are placed side by side on the frame, so as to form a rough floor, and
the craft is complete in all essentials. In our own particular case some
further arrangements were made for comfort. A portion of the "deck" was
properly floored with boards, and this portion covered with a hut made
of reed mats on a light frame, large enough to contain a bed easily, and
to serve as living-room during the day.
Such a craft is as buoyant as well can be; this one carrying six men
with ease, beside a fair amount of luggage. Its method of progress is
simply to drift down the fairly rapid current of the Tigris as far as is
required. On reaching the destination, all the wood is sold for what it
will fetch to the timber merchants, while the skins are deflated and
packed on a donkey for transport up the river, for there is no means of
towing the craft back against the stream. A pair of clumsy oars do what
steering is necessary, and keep the vessel in the main current.
A raft voyage is probably the most absolutely restful mode of travel
known, if only the wanderer is in no hurry to reach his destination; and
that of course no genuine traveller ever ought to be. You go on, never
hasting, never halting (unless a strong wind happens to pin you to one
bank for a while), and the river must get you to your destination at the
last. As to dates there is a pleasing uncertainty; but we may say that
from Mosul to Baghdad the quickest voyage ever known was two days and a
half, and the longest fourteen.
Naturally, you provision your craft for the voyage before starting,
getting all that you desire in Mosul; and it may be noted here that for
cooking purposes the writer has found nothing better than a "Primus"
stove. Ports of call where you can reprovision are not numerous, but
they do exist.
For one desiring a rest-cure the method may be recommended confidently.
You lie on your camp bed under the shade of your grass hut, watching
the shore slide past your sleepy eyes. If the heat grows too great, your
servant dashes water over the grass matting, and you are cool. Is fruit
your desire? He emits a doleful howl, which is answered from the bank,
and presently a nude cultivator turns up alongside, buoyed up on the
inflated skin on which he has swum out, and towing a large melon from
one of the gardens that line the river, which conveniently floats just
awash. Is a bath desirable? You strip and slide off the edge of your
_keleg_, taking a sheep-skin to act as buoy, or pillow if you like. You
swim for as long as you feel inclined, or drift down while the craft
keeps pace with you. You are in the land of the lotus eaters on a
_keleg_ voyage--but you had better take a few books to read!
Altogether the writer fully sympathizes with the feeling of a Chaldæan
bishop, who was scandalized at discovering that a certain Dominican
Father held himself excused from observing Lent during a voyage of this
kind "because he was on a journey." "Why, good gracious," said his
lordship, "he might as well claim exemption from fasting in Paradise!"
It must be owned that there is not much in the way of scenery in this
portion of the river. If you want that, you must go to the upper reaches
of the Tigris, and travel from Diarbekr down to Mosul, threading the
great gorges _en route_.[151] There you will get magnificence, and it
may be excitement too; for there are rapids in the defile, and _kelegs_
have been known to be wrecked in them. Mesopotamia does not give you
mountains. Still, there is one stretch of fair scenery (though not a
gorge to be compared with the canons of Tyari), where the "Jebel Makdul"
crosses the river, and a fine stretch of dull red cliff, relieved by a
wide streak of grey alabaster, lines the bank for some miles. Here
stands a fine old stronghold, much resembling one of the Rhine castles,
the "Kalat-el-Bint," or Maiden Castle. Shortly after, you pass a sulphur
spring, which is not an uncommon thing in the land; still, it is not
often that you find one so odoriferous as to awake the peaceful
slumberer in mid-stream!
Somewhat lower, the lesser Zab joins the Tigris, descending from a city
that we visited at one period of our wanderings in the land, and of
which we include a picture.
This is Kirkuk, a town which contains, in its present name, one of the
few memorials of the old Seleucid rulers. It is a contraction of "Karka
d'Bait Seluk," the "Citadel of the house of Seleucus." As a city, it is
far older than the kingdoms of Alexander's successors, for it stands on
one of the largest and most ancient of "tels"; and the traveller may
"acquire merit" by visiting the mosque where are the tombs of Shadrach
and Abednego. Meshach, the guide will tell you, is there too, but the
site of his grave has unfortunately been forgotten.
The mosque of the picture, however, is not that of the tombs, but the
_tekke_, or hermitage where dwelt the most famous character of modern
Kirkuk. This was a Kurdish Sheikh of such surpassing sanctity and zeal
for Islam, that Abdul Hamid used to correspond with him in a private
cipher; and was accustomed to ask by telegraph for his prayers, whenever
he was meditating anything exceptionally black.
Normally, the banks of the river are high, or at least appear so in
autumn. No doubt the river is often bank full in springtime when the
snows are melting, and its pace is then materially faster. Generally the
only feature on the shores are the primitive irrigating machines, the
"_sakkiyehs_," a type that cannot have altered very much since the days
of Abraham. They consist of nothing but pits sunk in the high bank down
to water-level, and communicating with the stream, so that there is
always water in them. A skin bucket is lowered into the pit and dragged
up again by a cord passing over a pulley; and an ox walking to and fro
on an inclined plane supplies the motive power.
Two or three days below Mosul the river passes by one point of great
interest; the mounds of Kala Shargat, once Assur, the sacred city of
Assyria. These are now being excavated and examined thoroughly by
German savants of the Deutsche Orientalische Gesellschaft. As seen from
a little distance, the place has no very exciting appearance. It rather
resembles a group of exaggerated sandhills, rising at one point into a
blunt pyramid, the "_Ziggurat_." In spring the plain is covered with
flowers, but all these have vanished long before autumn, and the colour
of the whole is that of pale brown paper; the only scrap of green being
the rather discouraged-looking garden at the side of the house occupied
by the excavating staff.
Here hospitable and kindly gentlemen receive the traveller most warmly,
and we have the opportunity of seeing German perseverance at work on a
most congenial task. Their method is undeniably thorough, and suggests
unlimited resources. You have a set of mounds before you, covering
perhaps twenty acres or more, and rising to a height of about eighty
feet. A light railway is laid down, running well out into the desert;
and the whole of those mounds, or something like it, goes through a fine
sieve, and is carried off into the wilderness and dumped. When a
pavement is reached in this process, that level is cleared absolutely,
and everything worth preserving is preserved, with careful plans showing
the position in which it was found. Then that pavement is broken up, and
progress made to the next level; and so the work is continued till
virgin soil is reached.
Assur, it would seem, was a shrine long before "Assyria went out of
Babylon and builded Nineveh." There are unmistakable signs of a Hittite
occupation before them. It was news to the writer that this people had
ever penetrated so far to the east and south. When the place fell into
Assyrian hands it became their great sacred city; so that almost every
king of whom there is record seems to have felt bound to leave there
some mark of his reign. Even the latest of the line, Sinsariskun, who
ruled for a few weeks only before the Medes stormed Nineveh, and who
perished in the flames of his palace, has done some building here. Hence
there is a series of at least seven temples on the site; though in each
case the lines of the original foundation were faithfully followed, and
are preserved above ground now in the Arabian "_kala_" which occupies
the ground. This "_kala_," by the way, cost considerable trouble to the
excavators. Occupying the site it did, it had to come down if the most
important portion of the work was not to go undone; but it was a
terrible business to secure that result. The wretched place figured in
formal reports as a complete modern fortress of the highest strategical
importance; and permission to dismantle it was only given at last on
condition of rebuilding it afterwards, exactly as it was before. As this
cost something under £100, an inference may be drawn as to the character
of the "fort."
The temple is of the ordinary "Semitic" type, and so follows the same
general plan as Solomon's at Jerusalem, and the larger one at Baalbek.
That is to say, there was an inner shrine, or _cella_, into which
normally none could enter, and a _naos_ before it corresponding to the
"holy place" at Jerusalem. Outside the temple was a series of
"concentric" courts, of irregular shape, and probably varying degrees of
sanctity, each one lower in level than the one within it. One of these
contained the great altar for sacrifice, and the tank for ablutions. The
altar was approached (again as at Jerusalem) by a sloping ramp and not
by steps. "Thou shalt not go up by steps unto Mine altar"--a device
probably meant to facilitate the leading up of the sacrificial beasts.
The whole is of mud brick; stone, or even burnt brick being only used
for ornament; and the tank mentioned was made watertight by a thick
lining of asphalt, still _in situ_. If the temple has not yielded any
such sculptures as have been found in the palaces of Nineveh and
Khorsabad, many minor _antikas_ have come to light there; and perhaps
the most interesting was a fine model of a flash of lightning, in gold,
and about a metre in length. This was no doubt the _ex voto_ offering of
some great man in old days, but no inscription was found to explain it.
Its discovery caused great excitement in Turkish official circles,
report having necessarily been sent by the Ottoman commissioner who is
supposed to superintend the excavation. Stories circulated of the
finding of a "great treasure of gold"; which was, of course, exactly
what most people believed the Franks to have been digging for all along.
Accordingly two regiments were dispatched to the place, one from Mosul
and one from Baghdad, to receive the treasure and escort it duly to some
Government headquarters. Naturally, no difficulty was made about the
surrender; for the Germans were under pledge to put all articles that
they found in the Museum at Constantinople, and had not the least
intention of breaking their word. One wonders, however, by how much the
cost of moving say, 1200 men for ten days' march, exceeded the intrinsic
value of a thin strip of gold, about thirty-eight inches long!
The temple of Assur and the king's palace there form, as is usual, a
sort of royal quarter of the city, and stand together at one edge of the
great mound. They look out over the plain to the "summer temple,"
whither the images of the gods were solemnly conveyed every year, when
the heat became too much for their comfort in their regular residence.
This was a great portico or enclosed garden rather than a temple, and
was apparently stone built, which is a rarity in this land.
Perhaps the most striking feature of the excavations, after the great
temple itself, is what the excavators call "the Oriental Pompeii." This
is the old town, of date similar to the palace; and therefore going back
to about 1000 B.C., though it was inhabited long after the fall of the
Assyrian Empire. It is interesting to see how, in every detail of the
planning of the houses, the arrangements common in Mosul to-day
reproduce this early period. Perhaps the streets in the older city are
rather better paved and drained than in the modern one, but that is
almost the only difference. We will allow, however, that some progress
has been made in such a matter as the disposal of the bodies of the
dead. Good folk in Mosul are more than a little casual about this as it
is; but they do have graveyards. Their ancestors in Assur put the dead
under the floors of the living rooms, and often with scarce six inches
between the top of the great pot that served as coffin and the level of
the room. They may, as suggested, have sealed up that particular room of
the house; yet even so----!
Bidding farewell to our hospitable hosts we drifted on down stream,
shooting in the process a few very mild rapids. The behaviour of a
_keleg_ in such places is perhaps a little startling to a nervous
person; though as a matter of fact its safety lies in its eccentricity.
Being composed of nothing but a multitude of separate skins, tied onto a
very flexible frame, it twists and wriggles and "hogs and sags" in a
manner most bewildering to the stranger on it, though it always comes
out well into smooth water at the end. It is however, somewhat startling
to be awakened at night by what seems a most unusually complicated
earthquake.
Other _kelegs_ appear as we descend. Even in the present thinly
populated state of the country, they are fairly numerous, and must have
been far more so when the "Ten Thousand" marched up the eastern bank of
this river. Indeed, they must have been so familiar, that it is a matter
for surprise that the Greeks feared to make use of them, when it was a
question of how to cross the Tigris with their baggage; particularly as
they had at least one man in the army who was bred to their use. Still,
they shrank from the unfamiliar, and preferred to abandon all their
plunder and take to the hazardous passage of the mountains.
Tekrit, another city of vast antiquity, was reached and passed. This was
a place of some importance in the ecclesiastical history of the land, as
having been a stronghold of the Jacobites against the dominant Nestorian
Church. It also marks a change in the geography, indicated by a change
of _kelegji_. By law of that ancient brotherhood, the river falls into
three stretches, and each man must stick to his own portion--Diarbekr to
Mosul, Mosul to Tekrit, or Tekrit to Baghdad. This custom does somehow
correspond to some subtle alteration in conditions, though we cannot
trace how or why. But the fact remains that below that point the cattle
develop humps, which they do not affect elsewhere; and that the traffic
on the river is conducted not only in _kelegs_, but also in _ghufas_,
which are not to be seen higher up.
A _ghufa_ is, if anything, more ancient than a _keleg_, for its type
dates back to the flood, if not to the times before it; and the
Babylonian "deluge tablets" seem to picture Shamashnapastim (the
equivalent of Noah), as navigating a gigantic _ghufa_ of 140 cubits
diameter. The craft is nothing but a wicker-work coracle of palm
basket-work, circular in shape, but "pitched within and without with
pitch" instead of being provided with a hide covering. In size it may be
anything from the dimensions of a clothes' basket up to twenty or
twenty-five feet in diameter, according to the size of the palm-spathes
that form its ribs. It can hardly be capsized, and can carry enormous
weights; but it is difficult to steer without practice, a novice tending
to go round and round in a circle of small diameter.[152]
_Ghufas_ are hardly seen above Samarra, which is some fourteen hours
below Tekrit, for the source of the bitumen with which they are pitched
is near to the lower city. Samarra is itself historic enough, though it
only appears in Western history as the scene of the action in which
Julian fell. As a shrine and _ziaret_ of the _Shiah_ Mussulmans,
however, it is second in sanctity only to Kerbela itself; for it is the
burial-place, not indeed of the two grandsons of the Prophet, but of
many of their comrades who fell beside them on the day of the "battle of
the ditch"; and a magnificent mosque covers their bones.
To an antiquarian, however, there is something at Samarra of far greater
interest than anything of either Roman or Mussulman history; for there
stands the only _ziggurat_ or Babylonian temple tower that has not been
ruined in the lapse of centuries. By some fortunate freak of fate, the
great pyramid, with its spiral ascent to the summit, was preserved when
worship ceased in the temple below. It went on as Zoroastrian
fire-temple; and subsequently as minaret to the great mosque which
Harun-l-Rashid built at its foot. That has gone now, and only a square
of ruinous wall remains; but we owe some gratitude to the Abbassid, who
was great enough to revere the monument of an older day.
So the monument has been preserved to our own time, and stands still
with its brick casing practically intact. It must be beyond comparison
the oldest tower in the world, for Samarra was one of the earliest of
Babylonian shrines.
This site is, we believe, the one which the German excavators have
decided to examine next, as soon as their work at Kala Shergat, which is
now rapidly approaching completion, shall be finally done; and we
understand that a preliminary survey, and perhaps a little experimental
digging, has given them the right to hope for a harvest of most
exceptional richness. One must trust that the proximity of the mosque
will not hinder their work.
Slowly the last stage of the journey is accomplished, for the river
current becomes gentler as it approaches the great delta of the two
rivers. Hereabouts the capital of the country has stood since time
began, though it has changed its place and name again and again. Date
groves appear on the shore in place of melon gardens; and flocks of big
pelicans (called "water-sheep" locally) gather on the sand-banks,
accompanied by the only type of kingfisher which is quakerishly serious
in his garb. Both above and below, his cousins flaunt magnificent
metallic hues; but in the reaches above Baghdad he keeps to a simple
black and white livery. Finally, "Baghdad's walls of fretted gold" are
seen in the distance, and the _keleg_ has to be exchanged for a _ghufa_,
for facility of shooting the bridge of boats.
Baghdad is civilization once more; a town that boasts hotels and
European shops and costumes, besides being a railway terminus at
present, to which trains may possibly attain in the future. Also it is a
steamer port, being the highest point on the river to which the boats of
Messrs. Lynch, which connect this place with Bassora and the open sea,
are permitted to ascend.
We may see trains at Baghdad in a few years, but the engineers who are
constructing the railway keep it enveloped in mystery now, and allow no
man to approach without an order from the Governor-General of the town.
One assumes there is good reason for this, though it is not obvious what
harm anyone could do by looking at the steel sleepers.
Baghdad is considered thoroughly Oriental, and may appear so to the
traveller who makes his entrance to Mesopotamia this way; but to one
coming from the interior it has a flavour of new Turkey, semi-reformed,
and unimproved. The big street that runs right through the town, to stop
short at the garden wall of the British Consulate, is by way of being a
parable of young Turkey, that started out with magnificent projects but
without weighing the difficulties in the way, or its own powers of
overcoming them. In this particular case, the _Vali_ of the town,
anxious to set about his improvements, proposed to drive a road through
the gardens of the British Residency, without with your leave or by your
leave; regardless of the fact that the street, if desired, could be
taken with equal ease by another route, where he would have found the
British authorities ready to co-operate and assist. When the Consul
protested, the road-makers were told to go on and carry out their
orders; and only the ominous presence of a sepoy sentry on the top of
the wall they proposed to demolish made them hold their hands. It was a
reproduction in little of the British sentry who promenaded the _Pont de
Jena_ at Paris when Blucher proposed to blow up that offensively named
structure. To pull down a wall was nothing, but to knock down the sentry
was a more formidable thing.
It is melancholy, however, and suggests the presence of a malevolent
demon, when you see high-minded men set on carrying out lofty aims in
such a way that they must fail, and that their own best friends are
unable either to save or to help them. That has been the bane of Turkey
since her revolution, coupled with an invincible ignorance of the truth
that phrases will not clean pigsties.
Baghdad is the necessary starting-point for a pilgrimage to Babylon; and
there are facilities for the expedition, in that the place lies only
just to one side of the road to Kerbela, whither go _Shiah_ pilgrims
every day in scores. Hence carriages are easily to be got, with relays
of beasts on the way, and a start in the late afternoon will bring the
traveller to Babylon in time for breakfast next day.
These conveyances are rude wagonettes, provided with springs in plenty,
and drawn by four mules or horses harnessed abreast. The seats provided
are merely hard wooden slats, narrow and uncomfortable, and the European
is not advised to make use of them. A long cord passed from side to side
across the carriage, so as to make a sort of hammock on which a camp
mattress may be placed, is far preferable, and enables one to lie at
ease all the night through. Whether one will get much sleep is
questionable. The road is a mere unmetalled track, and the horses go at
a brisk hand-gallop, taking all irregularities as they come; so that the
carriage is apt to play "cup and ball" with its contents all the way.
However, a halt from 10 P.M. to 2 A.M. affords a welcome respite.
Still if the European cannot sleep, the native is of a superior type.
Our assistant driver passed most of the journey rolled up in a ball
under the feet of his superior on the box. There, though apparently in
momentary danger of tumbling off under the wheels, he snored without
interruption, under conditions that might have kept the Fat Boy wakeful
and alert, never stirring save at the halts, and perhaps not being
really roused even then. It is certain that he got off, took the collars
from one set of animals and put them on to the next; but the act seemed
absolutely mechanical and somnambulistic, and when it was accomplished
he rolled into his place again and snored once more.
With the dawn we were making our way through a gap in that great wall
that so struck the imagination of Herodotus, and which still runs like
an abandoned railway embankment across the level plain. One must
question, however, whether the great structure was really (as the
"Father of History" tells us) built of burnt brick throughout, "laid in
bitumen, and bonded with reeds at every thirty courses." Faced with that
material it probably was; but it certainly has the appearance of being
built, like most of the houses of the town, of unbaked mud.
Germans as hospitable as their compatriots at Assur received us at
Babylon, and showed what they, working on the same thorough plan as
their comrades, have uncovered of the greatest city of the ancient
world.
Three great mounds, or sets of mounds, cover the ruins of Babylon, viz.
Babil, Kasr (the palace mound), and Amran. It is the centre one of these
that is now being excavated; though what has been uncovered is little
but the foundations and basements of buildings, or in many cases nothing
but the "matrices" from which every single burnt brick has been removed.
The city has been used as a brick-quarry for centuries, Baghdad and
various other towns being built almost entirely from this material; and
it is a rather melancholy reflection that, when the Germans have
finished their work, it is most probable that every brick they have
uncovered will follow the others in the course of a few years. No matter
how deep they bury them, they will be dug up, for good burnt building
material commands its price in a city like Baghdad. One must get what
consolation one can from the fact that at least good and accurate plans
of the whole will be available.
All the buildings of the central mound are uncovered now, presenting to
the casual visitor the appearance of a mere bewildering maze of
brickwork, in which it is very easy to get lost, though all is clear
enough to the expert eyes of the guide. Practically all that has been
found is of the date of Nebuchadnezzar; for only one building above
ground is the work of his father, Nabopolassar, and the most systematic
borings have found nothing below.
At first sight it is strange that a city which was ancient in the days
of Abraham should have no monuments older than those of a man who came
very late in her history, and was in fact a sort of Louis XIV of
Chaldaea; but there is an historical explanation of the fact. Babylon
was utterly destroyed by Sennacherib of Assyria at about the time Rome
was in building, it being the intention of that ruler that no man should
dwell there more. This was his punishment for the series of
rebellions against his authority, stirred up by that Merodach Baladan of
Chaldaea, whose ambassadors make one transitory appearance in the Book
of Kings. The awe which the whole world felt at this destruction of the
most ancient and venerable of cities is reflected in the words of
Isaiah: "Babylon is fallen, is fallen; and all the graven images of her
gods He hath broken unto the ground."
[Illustration: CHAL.
The home of the chartered brigand mentioned on p. 317. A deep gorge is
interposed immediately beyond the village; and beyond the further hills
lie the valleys of Lower Tkhuma and Salabekan.]
Of course the king could not attain his end. Men simply would not
abandon the "Gate of the Gods," the Mother of civilization and culture
for four thousand years; and Esarhaddon, the successor of Sennacherib,
had to give permission for the rebuilding. Still, nothing very
magnificent was attempted, and thus, when Chaldaea rose to empire under
Nebuchadnezzar, there was nothing ancient and venerable in her capital.
The King had a _tabula rasa_ for his great building schemes.
And what schemes these were! Really one cannot refuse sympathy to the
words of pride recorded by the Prophet, when one sees even the ruins in
their present state. "Is not this great Babylon, that I have built?"
Scarce a brick is found that does not bear his name. Rome's _Via Sacra_
at its grandest can hardly have rivalled Babylon's Processional Way--a
road eighty feet wide from kerb to kerb, exclusive of the twenty foot
pathways on either side; and this paved throughout with slabs of
alabaster, a yard square and half a yard in thickness, bedded on layer
after layer of brick laid in bitumen. And the setting of the road was in
keeping. It was lined from end to end with sculptured bulls and
griffins, and the great gate of Ishtar spans it midway in its length. It
runs from the grand temple of Merodach in the south, out to the mount of
Babil in the north; forming, as it were, the spinal cord of the whole
city, and passing just under the walls of the royal Palace.
Here the bulk of what has been uncovered consists of suite after suite
of small rooms, usually in sets of four or six, and probably forming the
apartments of the multitudinous Court officials. Also, there are long
ranges of vaulted cellars and store-rooms; where in some cases the
arches of the roof and door-way have survived for a testimony that the
Chaldaeans were well acquainted with the principle of the vault. The
great feature of the Palace, however, is the Hall of Audience--the
scene, in all probability, of Belshazzar's feast--which happens to be
the only part where the walls stand up above the original ground level.
This is a grand hall indeed, measuring 200 feet by 80, and therefore as
large as the nave of many a cathedral; and one can still trace opposite
the doorway the apse that was the site of the throne. It is surprising
to find that Chaldaean builders dared throw a vault across such a space
as this; yet the total absence of the bases of any internal columns
(such as would be needed to support a timber roof), unites with the
extraordinary thickness of the side wall to convince the German
excavators that such was actually the case. A "wagon vault" of such a
span would be no mean feat even now; though the Sassanid builders did
not fear it, as may be seen in the still existing "Arch of Chosroës" on
the site of ancient Ctesiphon. This great vault, shown in our
illustration, may still be seen standing near Baghdad, and was in all
probability a replica of Nebuchadnezzar's hall.
To the north of the Palace was the deep dry moat which bounded both the
city and the royal quarter; and which the Processional Way crossed, most
probably by a bridge, though of this no evidence remains. The German
excavators consider that this moat, or at all events some part of it,
was the "den of lions" of the King of Babylon. There is evidence in
parallel instances that such was the case elsewhere.
Of course the great temples of Bel-Merodach, Ishtar, and other gods,
form a feature of the city, and have been most carefully excavated. They
were constructed on a plan that seems strange to the Western; for they
have no precinct, or have lost what they had, and the houses of the
poorest quarter of the town actually abutted on the walls of the holiest
of them.
Herodotus speaks of "courts two stadia square," but one cannot reconcile
this with the facts. In design they seem to have followed the local
type of house; for they consist of a series of comparatively small
chambers, built round a small court. The shrine (which has usually an
"ante-shrine" before it) is no more than an inner chamber at one end of
this court; and has usually a secret passage behind it, communicating
with the chambers where the priests lodged, and which it is difficult to
believe was not intended for the production of "miraculous" oracles.
Strangest of all perhaps is it to find that, while fine material like
burnt brick, enamel, alabaster and hewn stone, is lavished on the
palaces and secular buildings of the city, the temples of the gods are
without exception built of plain sun-dried mud brick.
[Illustration: TEMPLE OF ISHTAR BABYLON]
This extends even to the altars, which stand on a small pavement just
without the main doorways, and practically in the street. There is no
stone anywhere in any of the buildings, save the blocks on which the
great doors revolved, which were buried out of sight.[153]
There must have been a reason for this choice, and economy can be ruled
out of court without hesitation. Perhaps it is most probable that
religious conservatism was the real motive. Men had built their temples,
like their houses, of unburnt brick for centuries before they learned
the art of burning it; and when that art had been acquired, the old
material was still regarded as the proper one for the sacred purpose,
and preserved accordingly. In like fashion the Jewish altar was for
centuries composed of unhewn blocks of stone in a brazen frame, because
the original altars of their patriarchs were unhewn of necessity. As a
matter of fact, the very rudeness of the material of these temples has
saved them from destruction when other buildings have perished. It was
worth nobody's while to transport unbaked brick anywhere, and in
consequence, now that the dêbris has been removed, the temple walls
stand up to a far greater height than do those of the palace. One fears,
however, that this cannot continue, for of course mud needs to be
sheltered from rain-drip if it is to last; though if that condition be
secured it is one of the most durable forms of building.
These temples can hardly have been beautiful monuments. Impressive they
doubtless were, for size and proportion together can hardly fail in
securing that; but impressive in the fashion of an older world. Built
just when Greece was feeling her way to the matchless grace of the
Parthenon, they stood like the elephant among beasts--the memorial of an
earlier age of evolution, but a sight of awe and wonder to the younger
races of men.
It is interesting, too, to find that even that younger civilization has
its monument here among the tombs of the old. Babylon fell before the
Persian, and her glory passed away. But when the Persian fell before the
Greek Alexander, that last of the great kings of the East showed himself
the first of modern rulers also, in that he had dreams of uniting
ancient East and modern West in one great empire. It was a dream that
passed with the dreamer; though it has been revived time and again
since, and noble men will spend and be spent for it even now. Alexander
had ideas of transplanting the finest flower of Greek culture to his
new capital in the East--for such he intended Babylon to be. The dramas
of Æschylus and Sophocles should be performed in ancient and restored
Babylon; and with that object he ordered the construction of a Greek
theatre of the best pattern of his day, in the mud brick of Babil.
Strange parable of his great dreams, and strange exotic too, it stands
to this day in the suburbs of Babylon; a memorial to all time of that
first effort of the West to educate and assimilate the East--that East
which it found so easy to overrun and so impossible to understand.
So "Babylon, the glory of nations, the beauty of the Chaldees'
excellency," stands now uncovered for an hour, though a short time will
see her hidden once more, and perhaps finally removed to form the
material for modern houses.
Meantime, what of the land itself, which was the garden of the earth
once, and is little but a mixture of swamp and desert now? The waters
that men taught to make the land fruitful have been only its destruction
when they were left uncontrolled. Will the great scheme that an English
engineer has put forward make the land a garden once more? It can, of
course--on the condition that it is properly managed. For nothing can
take away the marvellous fertility of the soil; and there will be water
for irrigation as long as the snow falls on Hakkiari and Ararat to feed
the Tigris and the Euphrates.
If the work is managed, when finished, by the men who designed and
executed it, it will do as much for the delta of Mesopotamia as the
"Barrage" of the Nile has done for its delta, or the dam of Assouan for
upper Egypt. But the Barrage, when built, stood absolutely useless for
decades, because those who ruled the country would not trust the
builders to administer their own work, fearing the power that such a
position would give them in the land that they were saving. Will those
men of the same stock who rule in Mesopotamia submit to govern by
foreign advice, and so save the country? Or will they say (as they have
always thought hitherto), "We cannot save our rule by compliance. Let
the land go to ruin, and the people too. At least it is ours, and we
will rule it to the end."
One who knew the Ottoman better than most has said, "If you want to know
what a Turk will do under any circumstances, think first what you would
do yourself; then what he ought to do; then what it is his obvious
interest to do. After that, you can rule out all those alternatives with
complete confidence; and that will at least narrow down the field of
possible choice."
Still, we must hope for the best. May it be an omen that the date-palm
(Babylon's ancient and beautiful emblem of fertility and life) is now
springing up anew in every trench of the excavations at Babil--sown
there by the stones of the dates served out as rations to the native
staff of labourers.