——-from the body’s purity, the mindReceives a secret sympathetic aid.Seasons—Summer.
——-from the body’s purity, the mindReceives a secret sympathetic aid.Seasons—Summer.
——-from the body’s purity, the mindReceives a secret sympathetic aid.Seasons—Summer.
——-from the body’s purity, the mind
Receives a secret sympathetic aid.
Seasons—Summer.
And as to the pilgrimage to Mecca, however irrational it may appear to us, it is at least recommended by sincerity and zeal, and is doubtless in the eye of an all-seeing Providence meritorious.He, we are to suppose, will judge not by the value of the act but the purity of the motive; and will accept it as the offering of a frail, blind mortal, bending in obedience to that which he conceives to be the will of Heaven. Besides, for the life of me I cannot see why a pilgrimage to Mecca is at all more culpable than a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; not to mention the thousand other holy places to which well-meaning Christians go, for their soul’s sake, at imminent hazard of their lives, and certain mortification and hardship to their bodies.
Banish, then, myFrederick! banish from your heart all illiberaland uncharitable prejudices, if any have yet found their way to it. Revere and cling to your Religion as the best and most conducive to eternal and temporal happiness; and the more good because it enjoins us to be charitable even to the Jews as well as to the Gentiles: but never think that you advance the cause of that Religion, or do service to yourGod, by waging war against your fellow-creatures for opinions they can no more help entertaining than you can help having yours, or by denouncing against them that eternal sentence which rests with the Almighty alone to judge of or to pronounce.
To a benevolent mind the animosities of mankind present a most afflicting picture; and the frivolous pretexts upon which those animosities are grounded render it only the more horrible. One would think that the substantial traffic of life, and the struggle of mankind for the superfluities of it, of themselves afforded ample materials for scuffle, without resorting to the shadows of speculation for contention. Yet experience has shewn us that opinion is a much more copious source of animosity and warfare; and that for one man who has been cursed, murdered, or destroyed by his fellow-creatures in a contest for property, there are a thousand who have fallen sacrifices to the vengeance of hostile opinion:
Ταρασσει τους ανθρωπους ου τα πραγματα, αλλα τα περι των πραγματων δογματα.
Were it possible that I could obtain from the bounty of Heaven a grant of the first wish of my heart, that wish should be to see allmankind in harmony and mutual good will, ranging without distinction under the one great name of Man and Brother. As those who foment the disunion between them are the most pernicious monsters of society, so he who endeavours to bring them one step nearer to a general accommodation of sentiment, who strives to inculcate the principles of mutual toleration, and encourage the growth of reciprocal affection between men as fellow beings, may be justly ranked among the best friends of mankind, and the most faithful servants of Him who gave being to all.
Among the gross misrepresentations of which I complain, and which for the sake of mankind I lament, is that general falsehood, the infidelity of the Turkish women. The respectable author whom I have before taken the freedom of quoting, I mean Dr. Russel, declares that in twenty years residence at Aleppo, he did not remember a public instance of adultery; and that in the private walks of scandal those he heard of were among the lowest class, and did not in number exceed a dozen. “In respect to the Franks (continues he) the undertaking is attended not only with such risk to the individual, but may in its consequences so seriously involve the whole settlement, that it is either never attempted, or is concealed with a secrecy unexampled in other matters. I have reason to believe that European travellers have sometimes had a Greek courtesan imposed on them for a Sultana; and after having been heartily frightened, have been induced to pay smartly, in order to preserve a secret which the dayafter was known to half the sisterhood in town.” He remarks, however, that at Constantinople the state of gallantry is different.
On the subject of the Turkish moral character, I have endeavoured to be as concise as justice would allow me to be; and yet I find that I have gone to some length. I cannot however dismiss it without giving you a trait to which the most obstinate polemical prejudice, and the most inveterate hatred, must in spite of them pay the tribute of applause. Their treatment to their slaves is beyond all example among us humane, tender, and generous, and such as may well bring a blush in the faces of Christian dealers in human flesh. When young slaves, male or female, are bought by a Turk, they seem to be introduced into the family rather in the condition of an adopted child; they receive the same education, perform nearly the same offices, and are bound to no greater marks of respect than their master’s own children—and in fact feel none of the galling circumstances of a state of servility; the very worst treatment they ever receive is to be put on a footing with the menial domestics, or ordered to the same duty as a valet or a page. It often happens, on the other hand, that they are married into the family, and very frequently are promoted to high offices in the State. If they adopt the Religion of their masters, it is always spontaneously; and even to slaves taken in war, no compulsion is used to make then change their Faith.
The following is the best description I am able to give you of an Eastern Caravan. It exactly coincides with my own observations, andwith the various accounts I have had from others. I owe it, as well as the account of the proceedings of the pilgrims at Mecca, to the kind offices of a friend, who took the pains to procure them for me.
Inclosed in the preceding Letter.
Inclosed in the preceding Letter.
Inclosed in the preceding Letter.
A caravan, which is so often mentioned in the history and description of the East, and in all the tales and stories of those countries, is an assemblage of travellers, partly pilgrims, partly merchants, who collect together in order to consolidate a sufficient force to protect them, in travelling through the hideous wilds and burning deserts over which they are constrained to pass for commercial and other purposes; those wilds being infested with Arabs, who make a profession of pillage, and rob in most formidable bodies, some almost as large as small armies. As the collection of such a number requires time, and the embodying of them is a serious concern, it is concerted with great care and preparation, and is never attempted without the permission of the Prince in whose dominions it is to be formed, and of those alsothrough whose dominions it is to pass, expressed in writing. The exact number of men and carriages, mules, horses, and other beasts of burthen, are specified in the license; and the merchants to whom the caravan belongs, regulate and direct every thing appertaining to its government and police during the journey, and appoint the various officers necessary for conducting it.
Each caravan has four principal officers: the first, the Caravanbachi, or head of the caravan; the second, the Captain of the march; the third, the Captain of the stop or rest; and the fourth, the Captain of the distribution. The first has the uncontroulable authority and command over all the others, and gives them his orders: the second is absolute during the march; but his authority immediately ceases on the stopping or encamping of the caravan, when the third assumes his share of the authority, and exerts it during the time of its remaining at rest: and the fourth orders the disposition of every part of the caravan, in case of an attack or battle. This last officer has also during the march the inspection and direction of the distribution of provisions, which is conducted under his management by several inferior officers, who are obliged to give security to the master of the caravan; each of them having the care of a certain number of men, elephants, dromedaries, camels, &c. &c. which they undertake to conduct and furnish with provisions at their own risque, according to an agreement stipulated between them.
A fifth officer of the caravan is the pay-master or treasurer, whohas under him a great many clerks and interpreters, appointed to keep accurate journals of all the material incidents that occur upon the journey. And it is by these journals, signed by the superior officers, that the owners of the caravan judge whether they have been well or ill served or conducted.
Another kind of officers are the Mathematicians, without whom no caravan will presume to set out. There are commonly three of them attached to a caravan of large size; and they perform the offices both of quarter-masters and aides-de-camp, leading the troops when the caravan is attacked, and assigning the quarters where the caravan is appointed to encamp.
There are no less than five distinct sorts of caravans: first, the heavy caravans, which are composed of elephants, dromedaries, camels, and horses; secondly, the light caravans, which have but few elephants; thirdly, the common caravans, where there are none of those animals; fourthly, the horse caravans, where there are neither dromedaries nor camels; and lastly, sea caravans, consisting of vessels; from whence you will observe that the word caravan is not confined to the land, but extends to the water also.
The proportion observed in the heavy caravan is as follows: When there are five hundred elephants, they add a thousand dromedaries and two thousand horses at the least; and then the escort is composed of four thousand men on horseback. Two men are required for leading one elephant, five for three dromedaries, and seven foreleven camels. This multitude of servants, together with the officers and passengers, whose number is uncertain, serve to support the escort in case of a fight, and render the caravan more formidable and secure. The passengers are not absolutely obliged to fight; but according to the laws and usages of the caravans, if they refuse to do so, they are not entitled to any provisions whatever from the caravan, even though they should agree to pay an extravagant price for them.
Every elephant is mounted by what they call a Nick; that is to say, a young lad of nine or ten years old, brought up to the business, who drives the elephant, and pricks it with a pointed iron to animate it in the fight: the same lad also loads the fire-arms of the two soldiers who mount the elephant with him.
The day of the caravan setting out being once fixed, is never altered or postponed; so that no disappointment can possibly ensue to any one.
One would suppose that so enormous and powerful a body, so well armed, might be certain of moving forward without fear of being robbed; but as most of the Arabian Princes have no other means to subsist but by their robberies, they keep spies in all parts, who give them notice when the caravans set out, which they way-lay; and sometimes attack with superior force, overpower them, plunder them of all their treasure, and make slaves of the whole convoy—foreigners excepted, to whom they generally shew more mercy. If they are repulsed, they generally come to some agreement; the conditions ofwhich are pretty well observed, especially if the assailants are native Arabians. The carrying on of robberies with such armies may appear astonishing; but when the temptation is considered, and when it is known that one caravan only is sometimes enough to enrich those Princes, much of our surprise vanishes.
They are obliged to use great precautions to prevent the caravan from introducing that dreadful distemper, the plague, into the places through which they pass, or from being themselves infected with it. When therefore they arrive near a town, the inhabitants of the town and the people of the caravan hold a solemn conference concerning the state of their health, and very sincerely communicate to each other the state of the case, candidly informing each other whether there be danger on either side.—When there is reason to suspect any contagious distemper, they amicably agree that no communication whatever shall take place between them; and if the caravan stands in need of provisions, they are conveyed to them with the utmost caution over the walls of the town.
The fatigues, hardships, and hazards, attending those caravans, are so great, that they certainly would never be undertaken, if the amazing profits did not in some measure counterbalance them.—The merchant who travels in them must be content with such provisions as he can get, must part with all his delicacies, and give up all hope of ease; he must submit to the frightful confusion of languages and nations; the fatigues of long marches over sands, and under a climatealmost sufficiently hot to reduce him to a cinder: he must submit cheerfully to exorbitant duties fraudulently levied, and audacious robberies and subtle tricks practised by the herd of vagabonds who follow the caravans—for preventing which, the merchants have a variety of well contrived locks, that can only be opened by those who know the knack of them.
But in some tracks of caravans there are dangers, and horrible ones, against which no human foresight or power can provide, and beneath which whole caravans sink, and are never after heard of.
The Egyptian caravans are particularly subject to hazards in the horrid tracks they are necessarily obliged to take through sandy deserts, where, for boundless extents, nature has denied one single circumstance of favour; where a blade of grass never grew, nor a drop of water ever ran; where the scorching fire of the sun has banished the kindly influence of the other elements; where, for several days journey, no object meets the eye to guide the parched traveller in his way; and where the casual track of one caravan is closed by the moving sands, before another can come to take advantage of it. In those vast plains of burning sands, if the guide should happen to lose his way, the provision of water, so necessary to carry them to the place where they are to find more, must infallibly fail them: in such a case the mules and horses die with fatigue and thirst; and even the camels, notwithstanding their extraordinary power to subsist without water, soon perish in the same manner, togetherwith the people of the caravan, wandering in those frightful deserts.
But more dreadful still, and still more inevitable, is the danger when a south wind happens to rise in those sandy deserts. The least mischief it occasions is, to dry up the leathern bags which contain the provision of water for the journey. This wind, to which the Arabs give the epithet of poisoned, often stifles in a moment those who have the misfortune to meet it; to prevent which, they are obliged to throw themselves immediately on the ground, putting their faces close to the burning sands which surround them on all sides, and covering their mouths with some linen cloth, lest by breathing they should swallow instantaneous death, which this wind carries with it wherever it extends.—Besides which, whole caravans are often buried under moving hills of burning sand, raised by the agitation of the winds.
All those horrors and dangers are so exquisitely described by our charming bardThomson, that I cannot refrain from transcribing the passage, as bringing them more immediately home to the understanding and the heart, than volumes of common description could do.
———— Breathed hotFrom all the boundless furnace of the sky,And the wide glittering waste of burning sand,A suffocating wind the pilgrim smitesWith instant death. Patient of thirst and toil,Son of the Desert! even the camel feels,Shot through his withered heart, the fiery blast.Or from the black-red ether bursting broadSallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands,Commov’d around, in gathering eddies play;Nearer and nearer still they darkening come;Till, with the general all-involving stormSwept up, the whole continuous wilds arise;And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown,Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleepBeneath descending hills, the caravanIs buried deep. In Cairo’s crowded streetsTh’ impatient Merchant wondering waits in vain,And Mecca saddens at the long delay.————
———— Breathed hotFrom all the boundless furnace of the sky,And the wide glittering waste of burning sand,A suffocating wind the pilgrim smitesWith instant death. Patient of thirst and toil,Son of the Desert! even the camel feels,Shot through his withered heart, the fiery blast.Or from the black-red ether bursting broadSallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands,Commov’d around, in gathering eddies play;Nearer and nearer still they darkening come;Till, with the general all-involving stormSwept up, the whole continuous wilds arise;And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown,Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleepBeneath descending hills, the caravanIs buried deep. In Cairo’s crowded streetsTh’ impatient Merchant wondering waits in vain,And Mecca saddens at the long delay.————
———— Breathed hotFrom all the boundless furnace of the sky,And the wide glittering waste of burning sand,A suffocating wind the pilgrim smitesWith instant death. Patient of thirst and toil,Son of the Desert! even the camel feels,Shot through his withered heart, the fiery blast.Or from the black-red ether bursting broadSallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands,Commov’d around, in gathering eddies play;Nearer and nearer still they darkening come;Till, with the general all-involving stormSwept up, the whole continuous wilds arise;And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown,Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleepBeneath descending hills, the caravanIs buried deep. In Cairo’s crowded streetsTh’ impatient Merchant wondering waits in vain,And Mecca saddens at the long delay.————
———— Breathed hot
From all the boundless furnace of the sky,
And the wide glittering waste of burning sand,
A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites
With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil,
Son of the Desert! even the camel feels,
Shot through his withered heart, the fiery blast.
Or from the black-red ether bursting broad
Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands,
Commov’d around, in gathering eddies play;
Nearer and nearer still they darkening come;
Till, with the general all-involving storm
Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise;
And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown,
Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep
Beneath descending hills, the caravan
Is buried deep. In Cairo’s crowded streets
Th’ impatient Merchant wondering waits in vain,
And Mecca saddens at the long delay.————
Yet, notwithstanding all those horrible circumstances of terror and danger—trade, and the desire of gain, on the one hand, induce multitudes of people to run the hazard:
Impiger extremos currit Mercator ad Indos,Per mare pauperiem fugiens, per saxa, per ignes.Horace.
Impiger extremos currit Mercator ad Indos,Per mare pauperiem fugiens, per saxa, per ignes.Horace.
Impiger extremos currit Mercator ad Indos,Per mare pauperiem fugiens, per saxa, per ignes.Horace.
Impiger extremos currit Mercator ad Indos,
Per mare pauperiem fugiens, per saxa, per ignes.
Horace.
And on the other hand, enthusiasm and religious zeal send thousands to tempt their fate, and take a passage to Heaven through those horrid regions. Thus we see in what various ways delusion operates.—The Merchant might find a livelihood, and the Bigot his way to divine favour, just as well by staying within the confines of their own native home.
ACCOUNT OF THE CEREMONIES OBSERVED BY PILGRIMSON THEIR ARRIVAL AT MECCA.
The caravans are generally so ordered as to arrive at Mecca about forty days after the Fast of Ramedan, and immediately previous to the Corban, or Great Sacrifice. Five or six days before that Festival, the three great caravans, viz. that from Europe, that from Asia Minor, and that from Arabia, unite; and all, consisting of about two hundred thousand men, and three hundred thousand beasts of burthen, encamp at some miles from Mecca. The pilgrims form themselves into small detachments, and enter the town to arrange the ceremonies preparatory to the Great Sacrifice. They are led through a street of continual ascent, till they arrive at a gate on an eminence, called the Gate of Health. From thence they see the great Mosque which incloses the House of Abraham. They salute it with the most profound respect and devotion, repeating twice, “Salam Alek Irusoul Allah!” that is to say, “Peace be with the Ambassador of God!” Thence, at some distance, they mount five steps to a large platform faced with stone, where they offer up their prayers; they then descend on the other side of it, and advance towards two arches, of the same kind of dimensions, but at some distance from each other, through which they pass with great silence and devotion. This ceremony must be performed seven times.
From hence proceeding to the great Mosque which incloses the House of Abraham, they enter the Mosque, and walk seven times round the little building contained within it, saying, “This is the House ofGod, and of his servant Abraham.” Then kissing with great veneration a black stone, said to have descended white from Heaven, they go to the famous Well called Zun Zun, which the Angel shewed to Hagar when she was distressed in the desert, and could find no water for her son Ishmael, and which the Arabs call Zem Zem. Into this Well they plunge with all their clothes, repeating “Toba Alla, Toba Alla!” that is to say, “Forgiveness,God! Forgiveness,God!” They then drink a draught of that fœtid, turbid water, and depart.
The duty of bathing and drinking they are obliged to pass through once; but those who would gain Paradise before the others, must repeat it once a day during the stay of the Caravan at Mecca.
At fifteen miles from the town of Mecca there is a hill called “Ghiabal Arafata,” or “the Mount of Forgiveness.” It is about two miles in circumference—a most delicious spot. On itAdamandEvemet, after theLordhad, for their transgressions, separated them forty years. Here they cohabited and lived in excess of happiness, having built a house on it, called “Beith Adam,” that is to say, “the House of Adam.” On the eve of the day of Sacrifice, the three caravans, ranged in a triangular form, surround this mountain—during the whole night the people rejoice, clamour andriot—firing off cannon, muskets, pistols, and fire-works, with an incessant sound of drums and trumpets. As soon as day breaks, a profound silence succeeds—they slay their sheep and offer up their sacrifice on the mountain with every demonstration of the most profound devotion.
On a sudden a Scheik (or Head of a Temple), a kind of Prelate, rushes from amidst them, mounted on a camel—he ascends five steps, rendered practicable for the purpose, and in a studied sermon preaches thus to the people:
“Return praise and thanks for the infinite and immense benefits granted byGodto Mahomedans, through the mediation of his most beloved friend and prophet, Mahomet: for that he has delivered them from the slavery and bondage of sin and idolatry, in which they were plunged; has given them the House of Abraham, from whence they can be heard, and their petitions granted; also the Mountain of forgiveness, by which they can implore Him, and obtain a pardon and remission of all their sins.
“For that the blessed, pious, and mercifulGod, giver of all good gifts, commanded his secretary, Abraham, to build himself a house at Mecca, whence his descendants might pray to the Almighty, and their desires be fulfilled.
“On this command all the mountains in the world ran, as it were, each ambitious to assist the Secretary of theLord, and to furnish a stone towards erecting the holy house; all, except thispoor little Mountain, which, through mere indigence, could not contribute a stone. It continued therefore thirty years grievously afflicted: at length the Eternal GOD observed its anguish, and, moved with pity at its long suffering, broke forth, saying, I can forbear no longer, my child! your bitter lamentations have reached my ears; and I now declare, that all those who go to visit the house of my friend Abraham shall not be absolved of their sins, if they do not first reverence you, and celebrate on you the holy Sacrifice, which I have enjoined my people through the mouth of my prophet Mahomet! LoveGod! Pray! Give Alms!”
After this sermon the people salute the Mountain, and depart.
In my last letters I endeavoured to give you an account of the Turkish Government, Laws, and Constitution in general, so far as I was able to collect information on the subject. I will now proceed to a description of those particular parts of that vast Empire through which I had occasion to travel.
During my stay at Aleppo, I experienced much politeness andhospitality from the European gentry resident there, and particularly from Mr. ——-, at whose house I entirely resided; and as the Franks live on a very good footing with each other, the time passed so agreeably, that were it not for “that within,” I should have been happy enough—We rode out occasionally, sometimes hunting, sometimes merely for the ride sake. Sometimes with an intelligent native whom I got to walk with me, or with some of the Franks, I walked about the town, in order to amuse away the time and see what was going forward, notwithstanding the cry of “Frangi Cucu!” or “Cuckold Frank!” which frequently followed us for the length of a street. Sometimes we went of evenings to some of the outlets, where preparation was made for our reception by servants, previously dispatched for the purpose, and there regaled with coffee, wine, fruits, &c.
The first day we went on a party of the last mentioned kind, Mrs. ——- did us the honour to accompany us: the place appointed was in a range of beautiful rural gardens that lie along the side of a river; where the well cultivated earth teeming with a vast abundance of the best esculent plants, flowers, flowering shrubs and fruit-trees, afforded a most delicious regale to the senses; and the plane, the willow, the ash, the pomegranate, and a variety of other trees, clustered together in almost impervious thickets, yielded a delightful shady retreat from the piercing rays of the Sun. It was on this occasion that I got the first specimen of Turkish illiberality, which, as I was entirely unprepared for it, confounded me, and nearlydeprived me of temper and of prudence. As we walked along, I observed several Turks addressing themselves to Mrs. ——- and me, who walked arm in arm, and speaking with a loudness of voice, contortion of countenance, and violence of gesticulation, attended with a clapping of hands, which, though I did not understand their language, I could plainly perceive carried the appearance of menace or insult. I was at a loss what to think of it: Mrs. ——- blushed, and seemed much hurt: Mr. ——- and the other gentlemen were silent, and betrayed not the least mark of emotion or resentment. At length, when we got from them, I asked what it meant? and was told, that it was all aimed at Mrs. ——-, or at least occasioned by her: that, bigoted to the customs of their own country, and utterly ignorant of those of any other, they were affected with great indignation at her dress, occasional derangement of her veil, and, above all, at the shameless and unpardonably wicked circumstance of a woman walking so openly and familiarly in the company of men. Talking of this affair afterwards with Mr. ——-, the lady’s husband, he assured me, that there was not an opprobrious and infamous epithet which the vulgar ingenuity of the brightest quean in Billingsgate could think of, that they had not huddled upon us. I was beyond measure astonished at the coolness with which he bore it, and said, that if I had understood what they had said, I should most certainly have been unable to restrain myself, and would have knocked one of them down as an exampleto the rest. Had you done so, returned he, you would certainly have repented it: for, if you escaped being stoned, or put to death upon the spot, the legal punishment for an infidel striking a true believer, you could not escape; and probably we, and all the Franks in the city, would suffer for it: it would at all events cause a dreadful convulsion in the place, and you would yourself fall a sacrifice to it.
Not long since I was conversing on this subject with a gentleman of my acquaintance, and mentioned it with some asperity, as arising from a spirit of bigotry peculiar to Mahomedans.—“My good Sir,” said he, “let me undeceive you! the very same would be done in most parts of Spain. I was one day,” continued he, “walking in a town in Spain, in company with the wife of a gentleman who resided there, who were both well known, and bore the most unexceptionable character. Seeing me however walking with her, the populace, as we passed, held up two fingers significantly, and cried to her, What a cuckold is your husband! and concluded with‘Todas las Inglesas son putas,’or, ‘All English women are——s.’”——s.’”He added, “that he was even in Cadiz, where commercial intercourse renders them rather more liberal than in other parts of that country, frequently accosted by little children themselves, with‘Crees in Dios?’Do you believe in God? and sometimes forming a cross with the thumb of the right hand and the forefinger,‘Crees en este? Crees en este? No! No! Ah Judio!Moro! Barbaro! Bruto! Protestante! Puerco! Voia al los Infernos!!’In English—Do you believe in this? Do you believe in this? No! No! Ah Jew! Moor! Barbarian! Protestant! Hog! Go to Hell!!”
So much for human beneficence and charity, under the fostering auspices of religion!
The house of Mr. ——-, where I was so hospitably lodged, was a magnificent edifice, built in all the fullness of Eastern grandeur and luxury, and furnished with all the splendour and state of Turkey, united with the taste and opulence of Great Britain. It was indeed a house in which voluptuousness itself might sit down with satisfaction—The most unaffected hospitality and generous benevolence invited and spread the board, and politeness and affability presided over all. Never shall I forget it—never shall I think of it without gratitude and esteem.
A gentleman of the opulence and consequence of Mr. ——-, with a house such as I have described, and a disposition to social enjoyment, was not, you will conclude, without a resort of company and friends; in truth, he had friends even among the better sort of Turks. Parties of pleasure had no intermission while I was there; and as the ladies of Europe or of European extraction in that country are highly accomplished, speak many languages, are indefatigable in their efforts to please, and receive strangers from Europe with a joy and satisfaction not to be described, Aleppo would have beento me an Elysium, if the pleasures of the place did not from the beginning suffer diminution from my own painful sensations, which were aggravated at last by an incident that arose from my intercourse there—of which more hereafter.
While I remained at Aleppo, I walked, as I before told you, frequently about the streets; and I think I never was witness to so many broils in all my life put together, as I was in my wanderings there—Not a time I went out that I did not observe one, two, three, and sometimes half a dozen or more. They have nothing terrible in them however, and, were it not extremely disgusting to see men scold, would be very entertaining; for I will venture to say that a street battle“à la Turque”is one of the most ludicrous exhibitions in the world. The parties approach to each other, and retreat mutually, as the action of the one gives hopes to the other of victory, lifting their hands, and flourishing them in the air, as if ready to strike every moment, grinning and gnashing their teeth, while their beard and whiskers besprent with the spume of their mouths, and wagging with the quick motion of their lips and ghastly contortions of their jaws, present the most ridiculous spectacle imaginable. They reminded me at the time of a verse in an old English Ballad:—
’Tis merry in the hall,When beards wag all.
’Tis merry in the hall,When beards wag all.
’Tis merry in the hall,When beards wag all.
’Tis merry in the hall,
When beards wag all.
Nothing, in fact, can exceed the extravagance of their gesture:the vehement loudness of their voice, or the whimsical distortions of their countenances, in which are displayed sometimes the quickest vicissitudes of fear and fury, and sometimes the most laughable combination of both. All this time, however, not a single blow is actually struck; but they compensate for the want of bodily prowess by the exercise of the tongue, denouncing vengeance against each other, threatening instant demolition, lavishing every bitter reproach, every filthy epithet, and every horrible imprecation that they can think of, and both boasting occasionally of their patience and forbearance, which fortunately enabled them to refrain from annihilating their adversary. At last the fray gradually decays: exhausted with fatigue, and half choaked with dust and vociferation, they retreat gradually backwards to their own doors; where summing up all their malignity into a most horrid execration, they part for the time, and retire to vaunt in empty threat, and growl away their rage, in the recesses of their Haram.
Yet those people are found terrible in battle by the Christian troops that have from time to time been opposed to them: here, if proof be wanting of the effects of Religion on the human mind, is an incontrovertible one of its powerful operations. Under the influence of their faith, which tells them that they go to Paradise instantly if killed in battle with Infidels, they perform prodigies of valour fighting against Christians; while, forbidden by that faith to imbrue their hands in the blood of a true believer, their passions have been graduallybrought under the dominion of their religion, till that which at first was faith at last becomes habit, and the appropriate energy and courage of the man has sunk into the degrading and emasculant efforts of the woman.
The practice of fighting, or personal conflicts between individuals of the same society, seems to have been condemned by the universal consent of all religions. The Gentoos, as well as all the other sects of the various parts of the East through which I have travelled, give vent to their passion in nearly the same manner as the Turks. The Christians too are most strictly forbidden to strike one another by the great Author of their faith: but it is their good fortune, that they not only have the best religion in the world for their guidance, but that they are the only people in the world who claim exemption from the penalties of that religion, and think themselves wronged and their personal rights infringed, if they are refused the privilege of breaking through its rules whenever those rules are at variance with their convenience.
Be it your care, my dear child! to fortify your mind with the spirit of true religion and sound morality, and let your practice in life be ever guided by their precepts.
The avidity with which human creatures search for something to recreate the mind and keep it in exercise, is of itself a convincing proof of the natural activity of our intellectual faculties, and shews that, like the different parts of the body, they were given by Providence to be called into effort and improved by practice. As they who by the favours of opulence are exempted from the necessity of actual bodily labour, are obliged to have recourse to artificial labour called exercise; so they who have the misfortune to be precluded from the employment of the mind by business, are obliged to seek mental exercise in a variety of expedients, some of which are criminal, some foolish, and some good for nothing or indifferent. Cards, dice, and games of chance are (according to the extent to which they are carried) of the two former—tale and novel-reading of the two latter. Those however serve to occupy the vacant hours of all the idle and unemployed. And when letters deny their friendly aid, we find among ourselves the deficiency supplied from the less ample resources of the memory; and story-telling, love tales,fairy tales, and goblin and ghost adventures, are recited round the villager’s fire or the kitchen hearth in as great numbers, with as much ingenuity, and to as great effect, as they are to be found written in the innumerable volumes on the shelves of our circulating libraries.
In Turkey, where the art of printing has not yet been known, where the circulation of literary productions is chained down within the narrow compass of manuscript, and where therefore the efforts of genius are repressed by discouragement, the business of story-telling makes in itself a profession, which, as it is acquired by study and prosecuted with art, is followed with considerable profit.
One day a friend (a French gentleman) who escorted me through the town, called to draw me out with him for a walk; he said he wished to shew me some of the caravanseras, observing that he thought I should be entertained with a view of them. I agreed to go; and he brought me to two, which, after he had shewn to me and explained their principle, police, and etiquette, I could not help admiring and approving. To both these were attached eating-houses and coffee-houses, and every appendage that could render them convenient and comfortable. As we were about leaving the last, I observed my friend stop and listen attentively. “Come hither,” said he, after a minute’s pause—“come into this coffee-house, here is something going forward that may amuse you.”
We accordingly entered the coffee-house, where we saw a number of people, some seated in the Turkish fashion, some on lowstools, and some standing; and in the middle a man walking to and fro, speaking in an audible voice, sometimes slowly, sometimes with rapidity, varying his tones occasionally with all the inflexions of a corresponding sense. I could not understand him, but he seemed to me to speak with “good emphasis and good discretion:” his action was easy to him, though expressive and emphatical; and his countenance exhibited strong marks of eloquent expression. I could not help staring with astonishment at a scene so new to me, and felt great approbation of the tones and manner of this extraordinary orator, though I could not understand a single word he said. He was listened to by all with great attention, and the Turks (albeit not used to the laughing mood) frequently betrayed strong symptoms of risibility: but in the height and torrent of his speech he broke suddenly off, scampered out of the door and disappeared. I set it down that he was a maniac or lunatic of an ingenious kind, and was for going away. “Stay,” says my friend, “rest where you are for a few minutes, let us hear further.”
The orator had scarcely been gone three minutes when the room was filled with the buzz of conversation, a word of which I could not understand, but which my guide listened to very attentively. At length the buzz began to grow loud, and soon increased into clamour; when a scene ensued of so very ludicrous a kind as forced me to cram my handkerchief into my mouth to suppress a laugh, or at least so to stifle it as to avoid observation. In short,they were disputing violently, and the beards were, as I once before mentioned to you,ALL WAGGING. I became more convulsed with mirth; and my friend seeing that I was likely to give offence, took me under the arm and hurried me out of the coffee-house: we retired into a porch in the caravansera, where I gave vent to my suppressed laughter till my sides were sore and my eyes ran tears.
“In the name of God, my friend!” said I, “tell me what is the meaning of all that extravagant scene to which we have just now been witness: who is that madman that spoke so much? and why did they all quarrel after he went away?”
“Come, come,” said he, “let us retire to my house, and I will there explain the whole of it to you, from beginning to ending.”
I accordingly accompanied him home, where we found a very gay circle assembled, to whom he described my astonishment; recounting my immoderate laughter, till they all laughed very nearly as immoderately as myself. “You must know,” said he, addressing himself to me, “that he whom you took to be a madman, is one of the most celebrated composers and tellers of stories in Asia, and only wants the aid of printing, to be perhaps as eminent in reputation for makingContes, as Marmontel or Madame D’Anois. As we passed along I heard his voice, and, knowing it, resolved to let you see him, and brought you in for the purpose. He was entertaining the company with a very curious, interesting, and comical story; the subject of which was avarice; the hero a miser of the nameof Cassem. His misery and avarice are represented in it as bringing him into a variety of scrapes, which waste his wealth; and his character is drawn with such strength of colouring, and marked with such grotesque lines of humour—he related it moreover with so much wit, in such admirable language, and embellished and enforced it with such appropriate action, utterance and emphasis—that it riveted, as you saw, the attention of all his auditors, and extorted laughter even from Turkish gravity.”
“But how came he to break off so suddenly?” said I.
“That,” returned my friend, “is a part of the art of his profession, without which he could not live: just as he gets to a most interesting part of the story, when he has wound the imagination of his auditors up to the highest climax of expectation, he purposely breaks off to make them eager for the rest. He is sure to have them all next day, with additional numbers who come on their report, and he makes his terms to finish the story.”
“Why then,” interrupted I, “why did they who remained behind fall disputing?”
“That I will explain to you,” said he. “Just as he broke off, Cassem the miser (who, as far as I heard, seems as well drawn as Moliere’sAvare) having already suffered a thousand whimsical misfortunes and dilapidations of fortune, is brought before the Cadi for digging in his garden, on the presumption that he was digging for treasure. As soon as the historian was gone, they first applaudedhim, and then began to discuss his story—which they one and all agreed in praising highly: and when they came to talk of the probable issue of the sequel of it, there were almost as many opinions as there were men in company; each maintained his own, and they went to loggerheads as you saw about it—when the chance is a thousand to one, that not one of them was near the mark. One in particular surmised that Cassem would be married to the Cadi’s daughter; which gave great offence to some, and roused another of the company to declare, that he was well assured in his conscience that Cassem would be brought to the bastinado or the stake, or else hanged, in the sequel.”
“And is it possible,” said I, “that a group of twenty or thirty rational beings can be so far bereft of all common sense, as to dispute upon the result of a contingency, which absolutely depends on the arbitrary fancy of an acknowledged fabricator of falsehoods?”
“C’est vrai, Monsieur!and thereby they demonstrate the power of the poet (for poet we may well call him); andentre nous, I doubt whether it is not more rational, as well as more fair, to dispute what thedenouementought to be before than after the inventor of the piece has disposed of it, as is the practice with us. When he has once finished his fable, you will find them all content, and the voice of criticism silent. Now in France or England, our critics lieperdue, in order to attack the poet, let him finish his performance how he may. But you will recollect, Monsieur, that in Turkey criticism is the honestspontaneous issue of the Heart, and with us is a trade, where sometimes lucre, sometimes vanity, but oftener than both, envy and malice direct the decision, and dispose to cavil and censure.
But we will go again to-morrow, continued he, probably he will be there to conclude or proceed further with his story; I agreed to this and we parted.
On the next day we went, and not seeing the orator in his place, lounged about the caravansera, and going to another coffee-house found him declaiming with all his might. My friend told me that the story he was now on was quite different from the former: however we watched his motions so effectually that we got the conclusion of the story of Cassem, which completely disappointed the prognostics of the two conflicting Turkish critics; for Cassem was neither bastinadoed, staked, or hanged, nor married to the Cadi’s daughter, but lived to see that extreme avarice was folly; and to be sensible that to make the proper use of the goods of this life is to enjoy them.