NOTES.
The ascent of the Pyramids is sometimes very amusing. Travellers generally climb only one—Cheops, or the “great pyramid.” Each visitor is provided by the Sheik in charge with three or four of his Arabs; and as they are daily so employed, many of them can speak English sufficiently well to be understood. The sides consist, of course, of large stones, forming in fact a series of steps which only a giant could walk upon, being about the height of a table. The method of climbing, therefore, is this:—Two of your Arabs jump up by aid of their arms; and then, seizing hold one of each of your hands, pull you up, while one assists you by pushing from below. The speed is good, but the tugging is so vigorous that one very soon tires of it, and learns to jump up, without much assistance, greatly to the dissatisfaction of the over-zealous helps. Half-way up a rest is made ostensibly for the purpose of viewing the scene below, and for refreshing the traveller with a draught of water. Our Arabs had all the while been singing, screaming, and laughing, as only an Arab can. Frequently it was scraps of nursery rhymes and comic songs, the meaning of which they seemed somewhat ignorant of, but travellers had taught them by rote, and they had picked up the words with singular quickness. They have great tact in finding out the nationality of their clients, and so becoming complimentary thereon. To an American it is, “American gentlemans good,”—“Yankeedoodle,” with a screaming chorus of half a dozen words. To one of our party, “Anglais good, ver good,”—“Jack and Gill went up the hill.” Assuring them we were not Anglais nor French, but from Scotland, “Ah! Scotland gentlemans good, ver good,”—“Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle;” and so on—“Scotland good,”—“Rickety dickety dock, the mouse ran up the clock.” Here they were at fault, having forgotten the next line of the rhyme. On being reminded by us, their joy seemed boundless,—“The clock struck one, and down the mouse ran, rickety dickety dock.” This rhyme, we learned, had been told them the previous year by a Scotch lady, but they had forgotten most of it. Now, however, it was all at once an immense favourite, and twenty times over the air rang with it, sung by a dozen Arab voices, and with all the excitement and boisterousness of their tribe just as over a recovered treasure. Surely they are “children of a larger growth.”
Upon inquiry, we learned that one of them had two wives, and would soon be able to obtain another; one had only one wife; a third—the youngest—had none, but was presently negotiating for one. A lady from our hotel here astonished them with the information that the principal of our party—although a very “rich man”—had only one wife, and that another of us, although with grey locks, had not got even one! They all looked surprised. One seriously expressed his regret that our unfortunate bachelor friend was not rich enough to obtain a wife; another looked quite incredulous, and, putting his finger upon the gold watch-chain he wore, suggested thattherewere riches quite sufficient to buy one wife at least. I doubt whether a merrier day has often been passed upon the grand pyramid of Cheops. Bakshish, of course, formed a subject of importunity afterwards; but we escaped pretty well by referring all to our “purse-bearer”—Josef the guide—who awaited us below.
When on the top, the celebrated “flying Arab” exhibited his surprising agility by actually running down atfull speed, and nearly as rapidly running up to the top of the adjacent pyramid—almost as high. He became gradually smaller every moment as the distance between us increased, and he appeared to climb the opposite height very much like a rabbit in its motions, and did not look very much larger. Of course one false step in his downward race would have been instantly fatal, because it consisted of a continuous succession of short rapid leaps.
The top is by no means an apex, as it seemed from a distance, but a rough flat space, of about twenty feet square. The pyramids are solid masses of mason work, built of largo size stones with lime or cement of excellent quality. The stones on the top are covered over with initials of visitors, so that there is scarcely room for more. To an Arab who, with a large nail and hammer, offered to cut mine, I said it was quite unnecessary, because I could point out the letters of it as already cut several times, which quite stopped his importunity. Several of the pyramids have had their “steps” built up with rubble and cement, making their sides quite smooth surfaces, and probably all were so originally.
There was a slight breeze of wind—quite bracing indeed—and we took ample time to enjoy the scene spread out below. The minarets of Cairo are numerous and lofty, and with the citadel formed the most prominent features in the city. Fronting westward is the bare rock and parapet over which leaped on horseback the desperate Mameluke soldier, to escape that awful massacre of his splendid company of cavalry by Mahomed Ali in 1811.
The Nile divides Grand Cairo from the much more ancient city of Old Cairo on its west bank—a locality occupied by the lower class of Arabs. It is built of black mud or sun-burnt brick, like all the villages we had seen in our journey fromAlexandria. The population is not considerable, and I think is included in the 350,000 generally given as the population of Cairo. Egypt has about 500 miles of railway centring in Cairo, but the lines are scarcely traceable from this pyramid. Our descent was quite as amusing, and almost as exciting, as our ascent had been, and I think neither more easy nor more rapid.
On the north side of the pyramid is an opening, cut at an elevation of about forty feet from the ground. It leads by a channel (so small that we could not walk in it) in a downward, sloping direction; then it ascends by another channel, leading into a chamber in the heart of the pyramid. Here is a granite sarcophagus empty, supposed to have contained the mummy of the King Cheops, but some say the real coffin was deeper down, cut into the solid rock over which the pyramid was built, and that it was originally approached by a long shaft, now choked up. We did not go in far, as it is dark, and not pleasant in any way.
Most of the pictures and photographs I have seen of this Sphinx seem caricatures, and I think all of them are failures, with one remarkable exception, and that one was a cartoon inPunchmany years ago, in which the very ideal of the original appears reproduced. The sculptor of the Sphinx and the artist of that cartoon were brothers in genius, although separated in time by forty centuries.
Snake charmers are frequently to be seen, especially at Cairo. They carry the snake in a common cloth bag, and whenever an audience can be got, turn it out on the ground, and go through the usual performance. Serpents generally are said not to have a quick sense of hearing, and yet music exercises an extraordinary effect upon them. The mode ofcharming seems to consist in playing a pipe, the performer sitting very near to the reptile. Apparently asleep, it gradually erects itself, revolving slowly into a peculiar beautiful convolute or shell spiral form; gradually assuming an offensive appearance, its neck and head swell greatly, its eyes assume a fierce glare, and altogether it acquires the very personification of malignity. Just when ready to spring on its keeper, with open mouth and projecting fang, the music stops, and the charmer disarms it of its evil intent by a sudden touch. Instantly it falls prostrate, apparently deprived of all fighting power, and is quietly returned to its bag, of enmity disarmed. It is said the bite of these snakes is highly poisonous, but it is supposed their poison sac has been previously extracted.
Fig trees are now rarely seen in Palestine, but there are a few. Their time of ripe fruit, judging from the appearance of those I noticed, would be about June; but I remember of seeing two full-sized figs upon a tree at Alexandria in the month of February. This tree was richly clad with large leaves, which no other fig tree I met with in our tour was, so far as I observed. Orange, lemon, and citron trees, on the other hand, we saw in South Italy, Egypt, and Palestine and Syria, loaded with ripe fruit in the months of January, February, and March respectively.
We did not see green figs at any of the hotels on our route; they were not then in season, but there was plenty of fruit generally. The most luscious green fruit was, I think, the dates with which, and especially at Beyrout, the table was daily supplied. It seems too rich a fruit unless eaten in great moderation; the safest fruit eaten from the tree I found to be the orange, if fully ripe, and of these we ate several daily throughout the journey, and freely also of old,or half-dried dates. Of all the trees the foliage of the fig is the largest and finest; its colour a deep rich green. Of trees in the East, the palm in certain of its varieties is the most graceful, but in Palestine handsome palms I did not see. It differs in appearance from other trees, as the Scotch larch does at home, and the two are somehow always associated in my mind.
Here the poet, in these fine lines, speaks only of the “unknown,” but not less has persecution dragged down,or tried to drag down, some of the greatest men from fame to infamy; both alike, however, it “chased up to Heaven.” Thomas Carlyle, as usual, has discovered the true secret of the Martyrs’ strength. Thus he writes:—
“To such readers as have reflected, what can be called reflecting, on man’s life, and happily discovered, in contradiction to much Profit-and-Loss Philosophy, speculative and practical, that Soul isnotsynonymous with stomach; who understand, therefore, ‘that, for man’s well-being, Faith is properly the one thing needful;how, with it, Martyrs, otherwise weak, can cheerfully endure the shame and cross; and without it, Worldlings puke-up their sick existence, by suicide, in the midst of luxury:’ to such it will be clear that, for a pure moral nature, the loss of his religious Belief was the loss of everything.”
Several names will occur to the reader of eminent and great men in our own country whom persecution has dragged into higher fame. Take two contemporaries: Milton, who died of studied insult and neglect; and the Marquis of Argyle, who was beheaded. The creatures of Charles II. thus “chased them up to Heaven,” and tried to make their great names infamous, but in vain. They succeededinstead in driving their Master’s family for ever from the throne of England, giving us—happy day!—Victoria the Beloved (with Albert the Wise) in exchange for James the Tyrant. Milton was a peaceable subject, and Argyle in heart a truer and safer friend of the king by far than were his unprincipled persecutors.
One great cause of the unfortunate position of Christianity in the East is the idea cherished by each sect that they are “Cross Bearers,” witnessing and suffering persecution for the truth. Each of them claims protection for itself only, and several of the greater ones are protected by some one of the Great Powers; the Greek Church by the whole power of Russia, the Roman Catholic by that of France, the Protestant Episcopal Church by Prussia. By some understanding the Jews and the small Christian sects look to England. The Armenians and Maronites are separate native races, powerful by their numbers, and the Druses are too much feared to be seriously injured. The Turkish Government, therefore, do not persecute these churches; the chief ones are watched over with jealous care by their own head or patriarch, who is officially recognised. But it seems evident that the Turks “persecute” by encouraging their mutual strife and jealousy. This evinces itself chiefly in what we would consider trifles, but to which these ritualistic churches attach a ludicrous importance generally connected with “Holy Places” and pilgrimages and sensuous public display. Blood has frequently been shed in the struggle as to precedence, and especially in obtaining some advantage over the others by the exhibition of the symbols and imposing ceremonial of their own church. The small sects who have no recognised head in Turkey are persecuted by the petty pachas in many ways. But Christians of all names are bitterly hated by the Moslems, and persecuted beyond endurance, not as churches, but individually as subjects, andmainly through the Government tax-collectors. This practice of pilgrimage, whether amongst Mahomedans, Jews, or Christians of the various sects, is deserving of more attention than it seems to have received, not only from its almost universal prevalence, but also from its effects. Obviously it leads to an important distribution of wealth and circulation of gold coin; it greatly promotes commerce and manufactures by spreading the knowledge of trade articles and wares as between different countries, and it supports numerous systems of transport for general use which otherwise would not be kept up.
But its effects in a political, religious, and social point of view are, I think, of vastly greater importance. In all these respects it might indeed be productive of much good by the interchange of ideas, and friendly discussion of opinions. But I think that, as conducted, pilgrimages instead of good are productive of great evils. They are carefully and strictly confined to religious and sectarian objects, and the encouragement of superstition by the traffic in relics and the like. Instead of being personal and free, they are communities disciplined and led by priests, and cunningly guarded from any influences calculated to open their eyes or minds by the perception or reception of any truth beyond the narrow views in which they have been carefully instructed. Consequently bigotry and intolerance are fostered, and each avoids contact with the other, as if all were plague-stricken.
This condition of matters could not be continued very long were printing-presses and newspapers introduced to publish their proceedings; but the most profound ignorance of all truths and principles other than those of their own creed and ceremonial is strictly maintained. I think the only instance in which I observed a Bible in the hands of an Eastern during our journey was one day while sailing along the coast of Phœnicia, when a Greek priest came with a Greek Testamentopen in his hand and sat down on the large chair on deck beside me. He read and pointed out the opening verses of St. John’s Epistles. I could only reply by pointing out the corresponding passage in my English version which lay beside him. He shook his head and I mine, to express regret at our mutual linguistic ignorance. After sitting together and trying to evince our mutual respect we parted with the usual ceremony. He was a fine looking young man in the usual well known priest’s dress, with the tall cylindrical black hat. As a rule the making of proselytes is an object kept altogether subservient to that of avoiding and preventing discussions, so keeping their followers ignorant of the real tenets of their rivals. Politically, the practice is very much the same at least as regards the Turks, who I am satisfied could not exist as a government but for the support they receive from their religion, and these pilgrimages are evidently used to cement in one body the numerous nationalities which hold the faith of the great Prophet, and to foster a spirit of resistance to the so-called “Infidelity,” their great opponent. The champion of the faith is personified to them in the Turkish Government and that of the enemy in Christianity. Probably also such pilgrimages afford opportunities for inculcating the political or priestly ideas of the time among the various peoples, or it may create centres of disaffection for party leaders—perhaps be made a focus for concocting plots or even massacres.
The Christian pilgrims of all sects in the East are similarly guarded, not so much from Jewish and Mahomedan opinions as from those of each other, and it is a curious fact that Roman Catholic influence is much more friendly towards Moslem or Jew than to the Greek or Armenian Christian.
Hermit monks, crusaders, and pilgrimages have found their most eloquent eulogist in Châteaubriand. I am just reading his travels in the East (1806), and it is difficult tounderstand how a man of the world so highly educated and accomplished, could see so much that was excellent in all three, and he so blind to their evils. In his eyes the monks who merely “watched over” the birthplace and grave of the Saviour were Christian heroes and martyrs! But wherein lies the merit of affecting to idly watch a manger and a sepulchre both empty, and neither of them real, it does not appear to him necessary to point out, nor to show that such watching was inculcated either by reason or revelation. In point of fact both have been in the “keeping” of the Moslems for centuries. The angel said to Mary, “Come, see the place where the Lord lay,” but this evidently was just to convince her of the fact and make her a witness of His resurrection. Had it been an injunction for all believers to “see the place,” undoubtedly the place would have been clearly obvious to all sincere worshippers, whereas Providence has carefully obliterated every evidence of its site.
Châteaubriand relates his own experience in a singularly ingenuous spirit, showing a loving confidence in his religion and all its ways, which is in these days of doubt, and questioning, and cavilling, very beautiful to mark. By his own showing, it seems evident he was very carefully guided throughout his travels—waited on by monks at every point, wisely advised and carefully passed on from one monastery to another, or one “Religious” to another, all which attentions he lovingly accepted as only new proofs of their tender kindness and affection for himself. The story shows how at an early period the Latin Church had established a complete chain of outworks in the East.
And he certainly a thousandfold repaid their little attentions by his eloquent pen—the very reward, no doubt, which they expected and desired. It is almost impossible to help liking the man, and difficult to judge very rigidly his opinions. His unquestioning faith, and apparent truthfulness, andlife-long advocacy, have done more to cover the “multitude of sins” of his Church than any other of her defenders I have read. His devotion, which in other men would be called superstition, is presented in a spirit so beautifully sentimental that I can now understand how, trained as young people, from marquises down to commoners, nowadays are, so many have recently been “converted” to his Church.
As to the Crusades of the Middle Ages, it cannot be denied that many men entered upon them in a noble spirit, and at first they were carried out largely with most self-denying courage and devotion; but they did no good, because they were founded upon no solid basis or principle further than a sentimental feeling which ended without results.
Pilgrimages as at the present time carried out in the East chiefly consist of Mahomedans from Constantinople and Asia Minor, who travel by the steamers to the Arabian ports on the Red Sea, or join the great caravans of pilgrims overland from Damascus and by other overland routes, all centring in Mecca. The amount of personal discomfort and fatigue which they endure is fatal to a large number of them, especially the aged, of whom they seemed to me largely to consist. Indeed, I believe among the chief promoters of plague, both physical and moral, are these annual pilgrimages, and yet they continue as much as ever to be one of the main obstructions to the spread of civilization and liberty in the Eastern hemisphere. The pilgrimages of the Jews and of the several Christian sects centre in Jerusalem, and of the Roman Catholics a large portion in Rome, all chiefly at the Easter season, and the same remarks to a great extent apply to them. All are efficient supports of superstition and enemies of controversy; indeed, crusades and pilgrimages have always been prominent examples and promoters of the sensuous and ceremonial in religion as opposed to the inward and intellectual.
Superstition could not long survive discussion and controversyif openly and fairly conducted in a spirit of charity, and hence all systems not founded in truth are instinctively jealous of it. Mahomedanism, although perhaps less vulnerable because less inconsistent with itself in the abstract than the religion of many of the Christian sects, is less able to bear the light of day without external support. A richly sensuous or ceremonial religion has great attraction for the vulgar, and if only artistically performed, equally great charms for the fashionable and refined, simply because the education of the eye and the ear is much more easy and pleasant than that of the understanding—hence the strength and influence of such religions. For if once the sensuous is admitted as an element in any degree whatever as rendering our worship more acceptable to God, it obviously follows that worship ought to be made as highly sensuous or ceremonial as is possible. In this view the Church of Rome undoubtedly bears the palm of merit over all others, Moslem and Christian, and defies with amazing success the criticisms of its opponents, however well founded in truth. No doubt the religion of Judaism was sensuous and ceremonial, but this was minutely defined and strictly limited from every human addition. The Divine Teacher emphatically tells us that the Father is no more to be worshipped in holy places as such, nor with sensuous service, but in spirit and in truth, for He seeketh only such to worship Him. All ceremonies whatever which any Church may prescribe or habitually practise as anecessarypart of worship must render that worship a Judaising one, and is a rag or relic of a system which we are emphatically told is “abolished” and “vanished away.” Whether priests are by any Church religiously required to wear a white or a black or a red gown, or whether they be religiously forbidden to do so, are, I think, alike breaches of the Divine precept—the only one circumstance which seems to be enjoined is that “all things be done decently and in order.”
Mr. Blunt in his “Undesigned Coincidences” (a very interesting book) has shown how important the most insignificant fact or allusion may be if quite incidental and undesigned in confirming the veracity of the historian. Applying this test as to the reality of the original fertility and beauty of the Promised Land, I think these points so often questioned nowadays are satisfactorily established. Taking the proper names of persons and places alone a very large portion of them mean “Brook,” “Fountain,” and the like; “Trees,” “Flowers,” “Fruit,” “Sheep,” and the like; “Fruitful Field,” “Plantation,” “Green Herb,” “Thicket,” “Pleasantness,” “Grape Clusters,” “Pomegranate,” “Honeycomb,” “Married Land,” and the like. These I give merely as specimens. Besides this there are also very numerous direct allusions made to these things unconnected with names. For instance, I have seen it stated in an old scripture catalogue of subjects and objects that words connected with Agriculture (including such words as Planting, Fencing, Granary, and the like) occur in the Bible more than two hundred times.
To me this digression appears to arise naturally out of our subject, and will, I hope, so appear to my reader. There are Philosophers and Philosophers, but all will listen with respect to the words of the profound Sage of Chelsea in that wonderful book—his “Sartor Resartus”—a perfect mine of intellectual golden nuggets:—
“Who am I; what is thisMe? A Voice, a Motion, an Appearance;—some embodied, visualised Idea in the EternalMind?Cogito, ergo sum.Alas, poor Cogitator, this takes us but a little way. Sure enough, I am; and lately was not; but Whence? How? Whereto? The answer lies around, written in all colours and motions, uttered in all tones of jubilee and wail, in thousand-figured, thousand-voiced, harmonious Nature: but where is the cunning eye and ear to whom that God-written Apocalypse will yield articulate meaning? We sit as in a boundless Phantasmagoria and Dream-grotto; boundless, for the faintest star, the remotest century, lies not even nearer the verge thereof: sounds and many-coloured visions flit round our sense; but Him, the Unslumbering, whose work both Dream and Dreamer are, we see not; except in rare half-waking moments, suspect not. This Dreaming, this Somnambulism, is what we on Earth call Life; wherein the most indeed undoubtingly wander, as if they knew right hand from left; yetthey only are wise who know that they know nothing.
“What are your Axioms, and Categories, and Systems, and Aphorisms?Words, words.High Air-castles are cunningly built of Words, the Words well bedded also in good Logic-mortar; wherein, however, no knowledge will come to lodge.” (Book I. Chap. 8.)
“My kind Mother, for as such I must ever love the good Gretchen, did me one altogether invaluable service: she taught me, less indeed by word than by act and daily reverent look and habitude, her own simple version of the Christian Faith.” ... “Such things, especially in infancy, reach inwards to the very core of your being; mysteriously does a Holy of Holies build itself into visibility in the mysterious deeps; and Reverence, the divinest in man, springs forth.” (Book II. Chap. 2.)
“But indeed Conviction, were it never so excellent, is worthless till it convert itself into Conduct. Nay, properly Conviction is not possible till then; inasmuch asall Speculation is by nature endless, formless, a vortex amid vortices, only by afelt indubitable certainty of Experience does it find any centre to revolve round, and so fashion itself into a system. Most true is it, as a wise man teaches us, that ‘Doubt of any sort cannot be removed except by Action.’ On which ground, too, let him who gropes painfully in darkness or uncertain light, and prays vehemently that the dawn may ripen into day, lay this other precept well to heart, which to me was of invaluable service: ‘Do the Duty which lies nearest thee,’ which thou knowest to be a Duty! Thy second Duty will already have become clearer.” (Chap. 9.)
“Deep significance of Miracles. Littleness of human Science: Divine incomprehensibility of Nature. Custom blinds us to the miraculousness of daily-recurring miracles; so do Names. Space and Time, appearances only; forms of human Thought: A glimpse of Immortality. How Space hides from us the wondrousness of our commonest powers; and Time, the divinely miraculous course of human history.” (Book III. Chap. 8, Summary.)
Sabaste, which stands about three hours’ ride north-westward of Nabulous, was in ancient times called Samaria, the capital city of the kingdom of Israel, and was the head-quarters of the idolatry so solemnly denounced by Isaiah; and here was the scene of Elijah’s sacrifice and destruction of Baal’s prophets. It was captured after a three years’ siege and destroyed by the Assyrians,B.C.721, and the Israelites carried away captive into that country. Seven centuries afterwards Herod the Great restored and beautified the city, and Philip preached there. The remains of a light colonnade, said to have been a thousand yards long, are still to be seen very much decayed, and may probably have been the work of Herod. There are some fine ruins (Romanesque) evidently of the age of the Crusaders, especially the Church of St. John, now aMosque, and the Knights of St. John had a residence here. St. John the Baptist is said to be buried here, but this is uncertain. From some points of this rising ground the view of the Mediterranean is fine; numerous villages are visible, with some terebinths and a very few palm-trees, and in the district there are several places of interest, especially northwards, where are the mountains of Gilboa, also Dothan, where it is said Joseph was sold by his brethren. The soil is a rich black loam, watered by the blood of many a battle, as indeed is the great plain by which foreign foes generally invaded Palestine, and variously called the plains of Esdraelon, of Jezreel, and of Megiddo. Southward is the plain of Sharon, with an excellent soil extending as far as Jaffa, but there the sand blown from the sea-beach seems gradually encroaching upon the cultivated black soil—an evil which except under a Turkish Government might easily be prevented.
The toleration secured for the Christian Faith in Syria is, if even observed in the letter, certainly not so in the spirit. From a letter, dated Damascus, 9th March, 1875, which I have seen, it may be inferred that there at least the Governors “keep the word of promise to the ear and break it to the hope.” It may be that the Sultan believes that his government is tolerant—I think he likely does—but at Damascus “it is a far cry” to Constantinople. I annex an extract of interest:—
“Of the £6, I have given Ps. 40 to assista converted Bedouin to escapeto Egypt, and Ps. 25 each to four converted Misairiyeh, who were pressed into the armybecause they were converts and are not clothed and paid as the others. The remainder I shall disburse as occasion may arise.”
The religion of modern Mahomedans seems to be radically and utterly intolerant, and whatever toleration may beevinced is entirely forced from them by the exigences of government. As a nation they are evidently in their last stage of decay, and as a government only await an executioner. Without arts, manufactures, or agriculture, their revenues only another name for plunder, and all the energy and industry of the country dead, so far as the Turks are concerned, they rely solely upon the political sufferance of their subject races. The industry of the country is now dependent upon these; the Armenians and the Maronites if united could any day dissolve the Empire. Almost the only industry remaining in the land seems to rest with them, the Jews, and some sections of the Arabs. But they are without ambition, only glad to be let alone. The Druses are a very warlike sect, and seem liberally treated by the Turks, probably used to keep the Maronites, their enemies, in check. And so this overgrown Empire, although existing as formidable-looking as ever, is really incapable and without resources, except external aid. It may be again propped up for a year or two; but its rate of decadence—the inevitable and the natural result of its social system—is too rapid to enable even European diplomatists with the great powers of England at their back any longer to say, “Let us have peace in our day and after that—the deluge.” The Turkish Government plays off the Powers against each other, as it has long done the Churches; but the Turks are now otherwise utterly effete—nothing remains but their talent of diplomacy in its worst meaning, and the one great statesman who foresaw this seems to have been Prince Albert!
The acquisition of the Suez Canal shares by the English Government, in itself a doubtful advantage, has been hailed with no little satisfaction by the public generally, showing, Ithink, how popular would be any increased facilities for connecting India with this country, and developing our trade therewith, and especially with Central Asia. Looking at the map we find the Turkish possessions extend as far as the borders of Persia, a country with which England is on friendly terms. Even in the time of the present generation a large overland trade existed between Europe and Bagdad through Syria, the centre point of the traffic being Damascus. Caravans of which we have all read, consisting of long trains of camels, carried on a large transit traffic chiefly in goods. From Bagdad as a centre access was no doubt obtained to many countries, to Persia on the east, as well as Turkestan on the north and Arabia on the south. Bagdad is situated on the Tigris, and all of us have a vivid and picturesque conception of its grandeur from reading in our younger days the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainments;” a book which, however fabulous it is, gives in the main, I think, a better description of Eastern Mahomedan manners at their best than any other with which I am acquainted. This trade has, however, during the present generation been greatly destroyed by the grasping rapacity of the Turkish Government, which, either directly or by their provincial Pashas, imposed heavy taxes upon this traffic, which seems year by year diminishing.
The Pashalic of Bagdad was the original country of the Saracens. It is 500 miles in length by 350 in breadth, containing a population of about two millions. It is watered by the rivers Euphrates and Tigris, which unite their waters 150 miles south of the city, and afterwards fall into the Persian Gulf. The inhabitants of the city at the present time number nearly 50,000, principally Turks and Arabs, the others being Jews, Armenians, Afghans, Persians, and Hindoos. The city is enclosed by a wall nearly five miles in circumference, and its two parts are connected by a bridge of boats across theTigris. There are, travellers tell us, numerous groves of date trees, and the city has a fine appearance from the outside, but inside the streets are dirty, crowded, and unpaved, somewhat like Damascus; there are few windows fronting the streets, which have a very poor appearance, while the interiors are frequently very richly decorated with mouldings and inlaid mirrors, and massive gilded ceilings, generally vaulted, and in some sense recall the glories of the good Haroun-al-Raschid. It is said to contain about one hundred mosques and religious houses with numerous khans and bazaars, besides the Palace of the Governor. The domes and minarets some travellers describe as beautifully decorated, and even finer than those of Constantinople. In the bazaars are shown the products of both Persia and Damascus, as well as various European goods. This commerce has recently decreased since Persia began to trade by direct caravans with Trebizonde, a flourishing city on the Black Sea, and by ships per the Persian Gulf on the south. Of late years Trebizonde has begun to rival even Alexandria’s commercial importance, and its position has made it a great entrepot of commerce between Eastern Europe, Russia, and the Black Sea on the one hand, and Central Asia on the other. European goods (including some English, for which, however, this route is very unfavourable) are carried by regular steamers from Constantinople and the Danube, and those from Central Asia come north by the return caravans. It is surprising that so very little is known by our Chambers of Commerce of this important commerce. Notwithstanding these facts, and the wretched Turkish Government, Bagdad still carries on a valuable trade with Aleppo and Damascus in manufactures of silks, red and yellow leather, and cotton and other goods. Several steamers ply on the Tigris to and from Bagdad, and there is one of the chief stations of the Anglo-Indian Telegraph.
If, as I have previously mentioned,[17]a railway were constructed to connect the Mediterranean Sea with Bagdad, or rather with Basra below the junction of the Tigris and the Euphrates, near the Persian Gulf, a much shorter route to Bombay would be secured than by the Red Sea, probably by six hundred miles, and considerably more in time would be saved in the transit, because substituting railway for steamer the heavy expenses of the Suez Canal would be avoided, as well as the dangers and discomforts of the Red Sea voyage. But irrespective altogether of Indian trade we would probably open up a valuable connexion with Arabia—that important but hitherto sealed and unknown country—as well as with Persia, Turkestan, and Central Asia generally. At present the Tigris and Euphrates are navigable for hundreds of miles, even by vessels of 500 tons, and for much greater distances by smaller steamers and other craft.
Looking at the map it will be seen that Bagdad occupies an important central position, situate about 250 miles inland from the Persian Gulf, about 400 miles from the Caspian Sea—in possession of the Russians—and about 800 miles from the Mediterranean; it is, or may be, in direct commercial relations with all three.
A railway communication with the Mediterranean would probably not be a bolder project than was the cutting of the Suez Canal, but it is one not likely to be undertaken altogether by private enterprise. But to England, in a national and political sense, it would probably be both a bold and a wise undertaking, if promoted either directly or by guarantees. Certainly under no other control could it be constructed so well or so cheaply. If I remember aright, England recently spent eight millions sterling to punish a madman in Abyssinia without grudging, and surely as much would be well laid outwhere the prospect of a return in commercial advantages, if not in revenue and great political benefit, seem so apparent! I cannot speak as to the engineering difficulties of such a line as I have already indicated, but I think few lines of railway could be suggested more free of them. It cannot be doubted that by such an undertaking the dominions of Turkey in Asia would be immensely benefited; and her financial difficulties are become so very urgent, that what from prejudice may hitherto have been impracticable may now become possible. I think it might be found economical to have nearly the whole plant finished in this country and ready for laying down, for there is no timber in the East; but, of course, this is a question which could be determined by careful survey.
The country in the route is in the occupation of Bedouin Arabs of several petty tribes, nominally subject to Turkey, but more independent in fact than our Highland clans were in their most powerful days. For a very moderate “black-mail, paid in gold,” their protection might be secured for the rails. As a class, they seem to be much less bigoted and intolerant than the Moslems of the cities are, but yet very tenacious of their territorial rights.
The scheme would of course be met with a thousand difficulties, as all such schemes are, but English engineers would, I think, overcome those which were real, and the imaginary ones would disappear, as in the case of the Suez Canal. The Porte should be glad to sell the land for money, and the Shah of Persia would perhaps find it his interest to encourage it, nay, even to extend the rails to his capital and beyond it. The European Powers, except perhaps Russia, would have no interest in opposing it, for it could be made neutral ground for all nations, as the Suez Canal is. The heavy goods traffic to India would not be diverted from the Canal, although I think eventually most ofthe Bombay passengers would be so. But the new line of rails would of course open up a new goods traffic with Central Asia in both directions, which would prove of immense importance to England, and such new openings for our manufactures seem at present an absolute necessity for this country, if we are to maintain our commercial position.
I think Mr. Reuter obtained a concession from the Shah to construct a railway from the Caspian Sea through Persia, and I am not sure but this work is quietly being carried out by the Czar. When completed, it will draw Russian commerce from Astracan into Persia, and may eventually be used in case of war against British India. This, if so, is only another strong reason for England opening up such proposed line of railway from the Mediterranean, say Port Said, to Bagdad and the Persian Gulf viâ Damascus. Such an undertaking would dazzle the Asiatic mind, and raise England to a position pre-eminent and commanding, and by a new link bind Great Britain still closer to her great Indian Empire.
These are not very dissimilar to such certificates at home. Mine, I fear, was not quite so warmly expressed as customary. However, I must say Braham seemed well known everywhere, and appeared to be held in estimation. At Railway platforms, and in Bazaars, his embraces of turbaned Easterns were numerous and warm. Dignified Egyptians, Syrians, and Turks alike shared his friendship—not excepting even the green-turbaned Moslems—so distinguished, either as descendants of the Prophet’s family or as of peculiar sanctity from their performance of certain devotions at the Kaaba in Mecca. Wherever these appeared, they were invariably treated with great outward consideration and respect.
In bidding adieu to Braham we did so only in the Englishfashion by staking of hands, but to a Syrian this would seem a somewhat cold and unceremonious style of saying farewell. I once observed a traveller in parting at Jerusalem with his donkey boy of the humblest Arab class, present him, at his request, with a small broken cotton umbrella, utterly valueless. Mosé was profuse in his thanks, and stooping down, “kissed the hem of his garment.” Ceremony seems natural and easy to Easterns of all ranks.
In the East generally we found banks, merchants’ offices, and post offices the least prominent objects; indeed, they had often to be searched out diligently. Bankers seemed carefully to conceal their money, and to obtain gold for a draft was generally an hour’s occupation, for it was literally “hid treasure.” There were a few exceptions, however, and Beyrout certainly is far in advance of other Eastern cities in this respect, as well as in several others. It has succeeded the once greatly grander Tyre and Sidon—the royal cities of Phœnicia—as the shipping port of Damascus, and is, indeed, partly built of stones transported from their ruins. Few travellers now visit them: so little remains to be seen. The old convent residence near Sidon of that singular Englishwoman, Lady Hester Stanhope—whose sad romantic history once excited so much interest—we did not visit.
Society at Beyrout is much better than in any other city we stopped at. It is a healthy and pleasant residence, and many of the educated classes, many foreign consuls and mercantile Europeans live there. The houses are light and airy, and are more European in construction and convenience than elsewhere. In our hotel the rooms were large and comfortable, but with some Eastern inconveniences. There are no bells in the houses, and our only method of summoning a servant was by clapping our hands from the stair landing.There is so large an admixture of Christians that the women of the Jews, and even of the Moslems, are, I think, less strictly veiled than in Damascus or Jerusalem. The bazaars are well supplied with European articles.
Our party had several introductions, and we had some opportunity of seeing the houses and social life of the educated classes. They are very European in manners in many respects, but generally partook of Eastern fashions as well, and their intercourse, except that of the Exchange, was chiefly domestic, public amusements being very rare. I saw no evidence of intercourse between the ladies of the Christian residents and those of the Moslem, and here I would have expected it if anywhere.
The habit of seclusion of the females is, I believe, partly one of fashion, but, I think, is not by any means really liked or preferred by many of them. One day when in Egypt, a fellow-traveller of our hotel, just as he had finished dressing for dinner in his room, hearing a peculiar sound in the street, looked down from his window. It was an Egyptian funeral, which he had only once before seen. The body was placed upon a bier, a flat, oblong board, and covered with a pall, not a black one. This was borne aloft by four Arabs; six walked before it, and as many women followed singing a kind of wailing chant. At the same time, just opposite to him on the second floor of a superior clans of house, a lady pushed open the latticed casement of her room window, no doubt to see the funeral procession pass. When it did he, in retiring from his position at the window, naturally looked across the street at the opposite window. All at once, as if she had not observed him before, she thrust up her veil with unnecessary haste, with probably more of coquetry than offended modesty, for which there seemed no occasion. A very similar incident occurred to me at Damascus on the occasion of the procession of the governor with a German prince throughthe city. On that occasion a Moslem lady opened her lattice to enable her children and herself to view the crowd. The sun was shining into her room, whereas I was in the shade, not over seventeen feet distant, so I obtained an excellent view of her room, which seemed an Eastern parlour rather than a harem. It was richly furnished, and the couches and pillows were luxurious-looking. On a low table or cushion a piece of bright green silk was spread as if she had been sewing. Her dress and that of the children, two girls and a boy, were also very pretty. I saw no reason for leaving my position; but when my presence was pointed out by one of the children, she suddenly closed the lattice, probably having no veil at hand. I think, however, by this time the procession had passed. On another occasion, when driving out of Cairo, we stopped to pay the toll of the new iron bridge on the Nile. Two of us who were seated on the off side of the carriage observed the wife of the toll collector (who seemed to be in waiting with her lord’s dinner) deliberately remove her veil for our benefit, and she certainly improved her appearance very much thereby. No one else could have seen her movement, and the moment the carriage again started the veil was quickly replaced. These incidents appeared to me to evince that the veil is really no favourite with the wearers. Paying toll, or any other money transaction in the East, needs time, and probably the jealous Turk might have been quicker had he known his prisoner was meanwhile revealing her face to “infidel” eyes.
Beyrout, Sidon, and Tyre were all famous cities of Phœnicia, the first queen of the sea and centre of commerce and the arts. Except in Scripture and Homer, her history and literature are lost, but traces of her greatness are found almost everywhere. Evidently the discovery of Britain, the Canary Islands, and the first circumnavigation of Africa were hers. Her ships’ anchors were of silver, and her wealth in allprecious metals and “purple” seems fabulous. Many of the discoveries and inventions of modern science and art seem to have been known to her nearly three thousand years ago. Her religion, originally sun or fire worship, gradually degenerated to that of Moloch! and decadence began with too much luxury in the days of Solomon. England now seems to have acquired her maritime pre-eminence.
There is, however, another and higher aspect of this matter. I mean the moral and spiritual, reaching beyond the visible—although suggested by, and continually arising out of it—a region in which “the mind that can wander through eternity” may roam at large, calling up historical personages and events long ago forgotten; revelling and luxuriating undisturbed amidst thoughts, feelings, and speculation of other days—holding converse with one’s own heart, and rehearsing scenes long since covered over with the mental dust of our working everyday life. Nor is such retrospection at all unpleasant; on the contrary, one feels lifted into a higher atmosphere, as it were—holding converse with ancient worthies, with the sages of our school books and the excellent of the earth of all ages. Our youthful dreams re-open their grand panoramas, and we mentally hold converse with “friends in council”—models of Christian truth, magnanimity, and unselfishness; although, on waking up, we may find difficulty in meeting such men among the bustling throng which jostle us in the way; or, if successful, do we not—