IITHE PILGRIMAGE TO MECCAHOnWednesday, August 31st, 1853, I embraced my good host, Shaykh Hamid, who had taken great trouble to see me perfectly provided for the journey. Shortly after leaving El Medinah we all halted and turned to take a last farewell. All the pilgrims dismounted and gazed long and wistfully at the venerable minarets and the Prophet’s green dome—spots upon which their memories would ever dwell with a fond and yearning interest.We hurried after the Damascus caravan, and presently fell into its wake. Our line was called the Darb el Sharki, or eastern road. It owes its existence to the piety of Zubaydah Khatun, wife of the well-known Harun el Rashid. That esteemed princess dug wells, built tanks, and raised, we are told, a wall with occasional towers between Bagdad and Meccah, to guide pilgrims over the shifting sands. Few vestiges of all this labour remained in the year of grace 1853.Striking is the appearance of the caravan as it draggles its slow length alongThe golden desert glittering throughThe subtle veil of beams,as the poet of “Palm-leaves” has it. The sky is terrible in its pitiless splendours and blinding beauty while the simoon, or wind of the wild, caresses the cheek with the flaming breath of a lion. The filmy spray of sand and the upseething of the atmosphere, the heat-reek and the dancing of the air upon the baked surface of the bright yellow soil, blending with the dazzling blue above, invests the horizon with a broad band of deep dark green, and blurs the gaunt figures of the camels, which, at a distance, appear strings of gigantic birds.There are evidently eight degrees of pilgrims. The lowest walk, propped on heavy staves; these are the itinerant coffee-makers, sherbet sellers, and tobacconists, country folks driving flocks of sheep and goats with infinite clamour and gesticulation, negroes from distant Africa, and crowds of paupers, some approaching the supreme hour, but therefore yearning the more to breathe their last in the Holy City. Then come the humble riders of laden camels, mules, and asses, which the Bedouin, who clings baboon-like to the hairy back of his animal, despises, saying:—Honourable to the rider is the riding of the horse;But the mule is a dishonour, and a donkey a disgrace.Respectable men mount dromedaries, or blood-camels, known by their small size, their fine limbs, and their large deer-like eyes: their saddles show crimson sheep-skins between tall metal pommels, and these are girthed over fine saddle-bags, whose long tassels of bright worsted hang almost to the ground.Irregular soldiers have picturesquely equipped steeds. Here and there rides some old Arab shaykh, preceded by his varlets performing a war-dance, compared with which the bear’s performance is graceful, firing their duck-guns in the air, or blowing powder into the naked legs of those before them, brandishing their bared swords, leaping frantically with parti-coloured rags floating in the wind, and tossing high their long spears. Women, children, and invalids of the poorer classes sit upon rugs or carpets spread over the large boxes that form the camel’s load. Those a little better off use a shibriyah, or short coat, fastened crosswise. The richer prefer shugduf panniers with an awning like a miniature tent. Grandees have led horses and gorgeously painted takhtrawan—litters like the bangué of Brazil—borne between camels or mules with scarlet and brass trappings. The vehicle mainly regulates the pilgrim’s expenses, which may vary from five pounds to as many thousands.I will not describe the marches in detail: they much resemble those between Yambu and El Medinah. We nighted at two small villages, El Suwayrkiyah and El Suyayna, which supplied a few provisions to a caravan of seven thousand to eight thousand souls. For the most part it is a haggard land, a country of wild beasts and wilder men, a region whose very fountains murmur the warning words, “Drink and away,” instead of “Rest and be thankful.” In other places it is a desert peopled only with echoes, anabode of death for what little there is to die in it, a waste where, to use an Arab phrase, “La Siwa Hu”—“There is none butHe.” Gigantic sand columns whirl over the plains, the horizon is a sea of mirage, and everywhere Nature, flayed and scalped, discovers her skeleton to the gazer’s eye.We passed over many ridges of rough black basalt, low plains, and basins white with nitrous salt, acacia barrens where litters were torn off the camels’ backs by the strong thorns, and domes and streets of polished rock. Now we travelled down dry torrent-beds of extreme irregularity, then we wended our way along cliffs castellated as if by men’s hand, and boulders and pillars of coarse-grained granite, sometimes thirty feet high. Quartz abounded, and the country may have contained gold, but here the superficial formation has long since been exhausted. In Arabia, as in the East Indies, the precious metal still lingers. At Cairo in 1854 I obtained good results by washing sand brought from the coast of the Red Sea north of Wijh. My plan for working was rendered abortive by a certain dictum, since become a favourite with the governing powers in England—namely, “Gold is getting too plentiful.”Few animals except vultures and ravens meet the eye. Once, however, we enjoyed a grand spectacle. It was a large yellow lion, somewhat white about the points—a sign of age—seated in a statuesque pose upon a pedestal of precipitous rock by the wayside, and gazing upon the passing spectacle as if monarchof all he surveyed. The caravan respected the wild beast, and no one molested it. The Bedouin of Arabia has a curious custom when he happens to fall in with a lion: he makes a profound salaam, says many complimentary things, and begs his majesty not to harm a poor man with a large family. If the brute be not hungry, the wayfarer is allowed to pass on; the latter, however, is careful when returning to follow another path. “The father of roaring,” he remarks, “has repented of having missed a meal.”On Friday, September 9th, we encamped at Zaribah, two marches, or forty-seven miles, from Meccah. This being the north-eastern limit of the sanctuary, we exchanged our everyday dress for the pilgrim garb, which is known as el ihrám, or mortification. Between the noontide and the afternoon prayers our heads were shaved, our beards and nails trimmed, and we were made to bathe. We then put on the attire which seems to be the obsolete costume of the ancient Arabs. It consists of two cotton cloths, each six feet long by three or four feet wide, white, with narrow red stripes and fringes—in fact, that adopted in the Turkish baths of London. One of these sheets is thrown over the back and is gathered at the right side, the arm being left exposed. The waistcloth extends like a belt to the knee, and, being tucked in at the waist, supports itself. The head is bared to the rabid sun, and the insteps, which must also be left naked, suffer severely.Thus equipped, we performed a prayer of twoprostrations, and recited aloud the peculiar formula of pilgrimage called Talbiyat. In Arabic it is:Labbayk, ’Allahumma, Labbayk!La Sharika laka. Labbayk!Jun ’al Hamda wa’ n’ Niamata laka w’ al Mulh!La Sharika laka. Labbayk!which I would translate thus:Here I am, O Allah, here am I!No partner hast thou. Here am I!Verily the praise and the grace are thine, and the kingdom!No partner hast thou. Here am I.The director of our consciences now bade us be good pilgrims, avoiding quarrels, abusive language, light conversation, and all immorality. We must religiously respect the sanctuary of Meccah by sparing the trees and avoiding to destroy animal life, excepting, however, the “five instances,”—a crow, a kite, a rat, a scorpion, and a biting dog. We must abstain from washes and perfumes, oils, dyes, and cosmetics; we must not pare the nails nor shave, pluck or cut the hair, nor must we tie knots in our garments. We were forbidden to cover our heads with turban or umbrella, although allowed to take advantage of the shade, and ward off the sun with our hands. And for each infraction of these ordinances we were commanded to sacrifice a sheep.The women followed our example. This alone would disprove the baseless but wide-world calumny which declares that El Islam recognises no soul in, and consequently no future for, the opposite sex.The Early Fathers of the Christian Church may have held such tenet, the Mohammedans never. Pilgrimesses exchange the lisam—that coquettish fold of thin white muslin which veils, but does not hide, the mouth—for a hideous mask of split, dried, and plaited palm-leaves pierced with bull’s-eyes to admit the light. This ugly mask is worn because the veil must not touch the features. The rest of the outer garment is a long sheet of white cotton, covering the head and falling to the heels. We could hardly help laughing when these queer ghostly figures first met our sight, and, to judge from the shaking of their shoulders, they were as much amused as we were.In mid-afternoon we left Zaribah, and presently it became apparent that although we were forbidden to take lives of others, others were not prevented from takingours. At 5 p.m. we came upon a wide, dry torrent-bed, down which we were to travel all night. It was a cut-throat place, with a stony, precipitous buttress on the right, faced by a grim and barren slope. Opposite us the way seemed to be barred by piles of hills, crest rising above crest in the far blue distance. Day still smiled upon the upper peaks, but the lower grounds and the road were already hung with sombre shade.A damp fell upon our spirits as we neared this “Valley Perilous.” The voices of the women and children sank into deep silence, and the loud “Labbayk!” which the male pilgrims areordered to shout whenever possible, was gradually stilled.The cause soon became apparent. A small curl of blue smoke on the summit of the right-hand precipice suddenly caught my eye, and, simultaneously with the echoing crack of the matchlock, a dromedary in front of me, shot through the heart, rolled on the sands. The Utajbah, bravest and most lawless of the brigand tribes of the Moslem’s Holy Land, were determined to boast that on such and such a night they stopped the Sultan’s caravan one whole hour in the pass.There ensued a scene of terrible confusion. Women screamed, children cried, and men vociferated, each one striving with might and main to urge his animal beyond the place of death. But the road was narrow and half-choked with rocks and thorny shrubs; the vehicles and animals were soon jammed into a solid and immovable mass, whilst at every shot a cold shudder ran through the huge body. Our guard, the irregular horsemen, about one thousand in number, pushed up and down perfectly useless, shouting to and ordering one another. The Pacha of the soldiers had his carpet spread near the precipice, and over his pipe debated with the officers about what should be done. No one seemed to whisper, “Crown the heights.”Presently two or three hundred Wahhabis—mountaineers of Tebel Shammar in North-Eastern Arabia—sprang from their barebacked camels, with their elf-locks tossing in the wind, and the flaming matchesof their guns casting a lurid light over their wild features. Led by the Sherif Zayd, a brave Meccan noble, who, happily for us, was present, they swarmed up the steep, and the robbers, after receiving a few shots, retired to fire upon our rear.Our forced halt was now exchanged for a flight, and it required much tact to guide our camels clear of danger. Whoever and whatever fell, remained on the ground; that many were lost became evident from the boxes and baggage which strewed the shingles. I had no means of ascertaining our exact number of killed and wounded; reports were contradictory, and exaggeration was unanimous. The robbers were said to be one hundred and fifty in number. Besides honour and glory, they looked forward to the loot, and to a feast of dead camel.We then hurried down the valley in the blackness of night, between ribbed precipices, dark and angry. The torch smoke and the night fires formed a canopy sable above and livid below, with lightning-flashes from the burning shrubs and grim crowds hurrying as if pursued by the Angel of Death. The scene would have suited the theatrical canvas of Doré.At dawn we issued from the Perilous Pass into the Wady Laymun, or Valley of Limes. A wondrous contrast! Nothing can be more soothing to the brain than the rich green foliage of its pomegranates and other fruit-trees, and from the base of the southern hills bursts a babbling stream whoseChiare fresche e dolci acqueflow through the garden, cooling the pure air, and filling the ear with the most delicious of melodies, the gladdest sound which nature in these regions knows.At noon we bade adieu to the charming valley, which, since remote times, has been a favourite resort of the Meccan citizens.At sunset we recited the prayers suited to the occasion, straining our eyes, but all in vain, to catch sight of Meccah. About 1 a.m. I was aroused by a general excitement around me.“Meccah! Meccah!” cried some voices. “The sanctuary, oh, the sanctuary!” exclaimed others, and all burst into loud “Labbayk!” not infrequently broken by sobs. With a heartfelt “Alhamdu lillah,” I looked from my litter and saw under the chandelier of the Southern Cross the dim outlines of a large city, a shade darker than the surrounding plain.A cool east wind met us, showing that it was raining in the Taif hills, and at times sheet lightning played around the Prophet’s birthplace—a common phenomenon, which Moslems regard as the testimony of Heaven to the sanctity of the spot.Passing through a deep cutting, we entered the northern suburb of our destination. Then I made to the Shamiyah, or Syrian quarter, and finally, at 2 a.m., I found myself at the boy Mohammed’s house. We arrived on the morning of Sunday, September 11th, 1853, corresponding with Zu’l Hijjah 6th, 1269. Thus we had the whole dayto spend in visiting the haram, and a quiet night before the opening of the true pilgrim season, which would begin on the morrow.The morrow dawned. After a few hours of sleep and a ceremonial ablution, we donned the pilgrim garb, and with loud and long “Labbayk!” we hastened to the Bayt Ullah, or House of Allah, as the great temple of Meccah is called.At the bottom of our street was the outer Bab El Salam, or Gate of Security, looking towards the east, and held to be, of all the thirty-nine, the most auspicious entrance for a first visit.Here we descended several steps, for the level of the temple has been preserved, whilst the foundations of the city have been raised by the decay of ages. We then passed through a shady colonnade divided into aisles, here four, and in the other sides three, pillars deep. These cloisters are a forest of columns upwards of five hundred and fifty in number, and in shape and material they are as irregular as trees. The outer arches of the colonnade are ogives, and every four support a small dome like half an orange, and white with plaster: some reckon one hundred and twenty, others one hundred and fifty, and Meccan superstition declares they cannot be counted. The rear of the cloisters rests upon an outer wall of cut stone, finished with pinnacles, or Arab battlements, and at different points in it rise seven minarets. These are tall towers much less bulky than ours, partly in facets, circular, and partly cylindrical, builtat distinct epochs, and somewhat tawdrily banded with gaudy colours.This vast colonnade surrounds a large unroofed and slightly irregular oblong, which may be compared with an exaggeration of the Palais Royal, Paris. This sanded area is six hundred and fifty feet long by five hundred and twenty-five broad, dotted with small buildings grouped round a common centre, and is crossed by eight narrow lines of flagged pavement. Towards the middle of it, one hundred and fifteen paces from the northern colonnade and eighty-eight from the southern, and based upon an irregularly oval pavement of fine close grey gneiss, or granite, rises the far-famed Kaabah, or inner temple, its funereal pall contrasting vividly with the sunlit walls and the yellow precipices of the city.Behold it at last, the bourn of long and weary travel, realising the plans and hopes of many and many a year! This, then, is the kibbal, or direction, towards which every Moslem has turned in prayer since the days of Mohammed, and which for long ages before the birth of Christianity was reverenced by the patriarchs of the East.No wonder that the scene is one of the wildest excitement! Here are worshippers clinging to the curtain and sobbing as though their hearts would break; here some poor wretch with arms thrown high, so that his beating breast may touch the stone of the house, appears ready to faint, and there men prostrate themselves on the pavement, rubbing theirforeheads against the stones, shedding floods of tears, and pouring forth frenzied ejaculations. The most careless, indeed, never contemplate it for the first time without fear and awe. There is a popular jest against new-comers that in the presence of the Kaabah they generally inquire the direction of prayer, although they have all their lives been praying towards it as the early Christian fronted Jerusalem.But we must look more critically at the celebrated shrine.The word Kaabah means a cube, a square, amaison carrée. It is called Bayt Ullah (House of God) because according to the Koran it is “certainly the first temple erected for mankind.” It is also known as the “Bride of Meccah,” probably from the old custom of typifying the Church Visible by a young married woman—hence probably its face-veil, its covering, and its guard of eunuchs. Externally it is a low tower of fine grey granite laid in horizontal courses of irregular depth; the stones are tolerably fitted, and are not cemented. It shows no signs of decay, and indeed, in its present form, it dates only from 1627. The shape is rather a trapezoid than a square, being forty feet long by thirty-five broad and forty-five high, the flat roof having a cubit of depression from south-west to north-east, where a gold or gilt spout discharges the drainage. The foundation is a marble base two feet high, and presents a sharp inclined plane.All the Kaabah except the roof is covered witha kiswatu garment. It is a pall-like hanging, the work of a certain family at Cairo, and annually renewed. The ground is dully black, and Koranic verses interwoven into it are shining black. There is a door curtain of gold thread upon red silk, and a bright band of similar material, called the face-veil of the house, two feet broad, runs horizontally round the Kaabah at two-thirds of its height. This covering when new is tucked up by ropes from the roof; when old it is fastened to large metal rings welded into the basement of the building. When this peculiar adjunct to the shrine is swollen and moved by the breeze, pious Moslems believe that angels are waving their wings over it.The only entrance to the Kaabah is a narrow door of aloe wood, in the eastern side. It is now raised seven feet, and one enters it hoisted up in men’s arms. InA.D.686, when the whole building took its present shape, it was level with the external ground. The Kaabah opens gratis ten or twelve times a year, when crowds rush in and men lose their lives. Wealthy pilgrims obtain the favour by paying for it. Scrupulous Moslems do not willingly enter it, as they may never afterwards walk about barefooted, take up fire with their fingers, or tell lies. It is not every one who can afford such luxuries as slippers, tongs, and truth. Nothing is simpler than the interior of the building. The walls are covered with handsome red damask, flowered over with gold, tucked up beyond the pilgrim’s reach. The flat roof apparentlyrests upon three posts of carved and ornamented aloe wood.Between the three pillars, and about nine feet from the ground, run metal bars, to which hang lamps, said to be gold. At the northern corner there is a dwarf door; it leads into a narrow passage and to the dwarf staircase by which the servants ascend to the roof. In the south-eastern corner is a quadrant-shaped sofa, also of aloe wood, and on it sits the guardian of the shrine.The Hajar el Aswad, or black stone, of which all the world talks, is fixed in the south-eastern angle outside the house, between four and five feet from the ground, the more conveniently to be kissed. It shows a black and slaggy surface, glossy and pitch-like, worn and polished by myriads of lips; its diameter is about seven inches, and it appears only in the central aperture of a gilt or gold dish. The depth to which it extends into the wall is unknown: most people say two cubits.Believers declare, with poetry, if not with reason, that in the day of Atast, when Allah made covenant concerning the souls that animate the sons of Adam, the instrument was placed in a fragment of the lower heaven, then white as snow, now black by reason of men’s sins. The rationalistic infidel opines this sacred corner-stone to be a common aerolite, a remnant of the stone-worship which considered it the symbol of power presiding over universal reproduction, and inserted by Mohammed into the edifice of El Islam.This relic has fared ill; it has been stolen and broken, and has suffered other accidents.Another remarkable part of the Kaabah is that between the door and the black stone. It is called the multazem, or “attached to,” because here the pilgrim should apply his bosom, weep bitterly, and beg pardon for his sins. In ancient times, according to some authors, it was the place for contracting solemn engagements.The pavement which surrounds the Kaabah is about eight inches high, and the inside is marked by an oval balustrade of some score and a half of slender gilt metal pillars. Between every two of these cross rods support oil lamps, with globes of white and green glasses. Gas is much wanted at Meccah! At the north end, and separated by a space of about five feet from the building, is El Hatrim, or the “broken,” a dwarf semi-circular wall, whose extremities are on a line with the sides of the Kaabah. In its concavity are two slabs of a finer stone, which cover the remains of Ishmael, and of his mother Hagar. The former, I may be allowed to remark, is regarded by Moslems as the eldest son and legitimate successor of Abraham, in opposition to the Jews, who prefer Isaac, the child of Sarai the free woman. It is an old dispute and not likely to be soon settled.Besides the Kaabah, ten minor structures dot the vast quadrangle. The most important is the massive covering of the well Zemzem. The word means “the murmuring,” and here the water gushed fromthe ground where the child Ishmael was shuffling his feet in the agonies of thirst. The supply is abundant, but I found it nauseously bitter; its external application, however, when dashed like a douche over the pilgrim, causes sins to fall from his soul like dust.On the south-east, and near the well, are the Kubbatayn, two domes crowning heavy ugly buildings, vulgarly painted with red, green, and yellow bands; one of these domes is used as a library. Directly opposite the Kaabah door is a short ladder or staircase of carved wood, which is wheeled up to the entrance door on the rare occasions when it is opened. North of it is the inner Bab El Salam, or Gate of Security, under which the pilgrims pass in their first visit to the shrine. It is a slightly built and detached arch of stone, about fifteen feet of space in width and eighteen in height, somewhat like our meaningless triumphal arches, which come from no place and go nowhere. Between this and the Kaabah stands the Makam Ibraham, or Station of Abraham, a small building containing the stone which supported the Friend of Allah when he was building the house. It served for a scaffold, rising and falling of itself as required, and it preserved the impressions of Abraham’s feet, especially of the two big toes. Devout and wealthy pilgrims fill the cavities with water, which they rub over their eyes and faces with physical as well as spiritual refreshment. To the north of it is a fine white marble pulpit with narrow steps leading to the preacher’s post, which is supported by a gilt andsharply tapering steeple. Lastly, opposite the northern, the western, and the south-eastern sides of the Kaabah, stand three ornamental pavilions, with light sloping roofs resting on slender pillars. From these the representatives of the three orthodox schools direct the prayers of their congregations. The Shafli, or fourth branch, collect between the corner of the well Zemzem and the Station of Abraham, whilst the heretical sects lay claim to certain mysterious and invisible places of reunion.I must now describe what the pilgrims do.Entering with the boy Mohammed, who acted as my mutawwif, or circuit guide, we passed through the inner Gate of Security, uttering various religious formulas, and we recited the usual two-prostration prayer in honour of the mosque at the Shafli place of worship. We then proceeded to the angle of the house, in which the black stone is set, and there recited other prayers before beginning tawaf, or circumambulation. The place was crowded with pilgrims, all males—women rarely appear during the hours of light. Bareheaded and barefooted they passed the giant pavement, which, smooth as glass and hot as sun can make it, surrounds the Kaabah, suggesting the idea of perpetual motion. Meccans declare that at no time of the day or night is the place ever wholly deserted.Circumambulation consists of seven shauts, or rounds, of the house, to which the left shoulder is turned, and each noted spot has its peculiar prayers.The three first courses are performed at a brisk trot, like the Frenchpas gymnastique. The four latter are leisurely passed. The origin of this custom is variously accounted for. The general idea is that Mohammed directed his followers thus to show themselves strong and active to the infidels, who had declared them to have been weakened by the air of El Medinah.When I had performed my seven courses I fought my way through the thin-legged host of Bedouins, and kissed the black stone, rubbing my hands and forehead upon it. There were some other unimportant devotions, which concluded with a douche at the well Zemzem, and with a general almsgiving. The circumambulation ceremony is performed several times in the day, despite the heat. It is positive torture.The visit to the Kaabah, however, does not entitle a man to be called haji. The essence of pilgrimage is to be present at the sermon pronounced by the preacher on the Holy Hill of Arafat, distant about twelve miles from, and to the east of, Meccah. This performed even in a state of insensibility is valid, and to die by the roadside is martyrdom, saving all the pains and penalties of the tomb.The visit, however, must be paid on the 8th, 9th, and the 10th of the month Zu’l Hijjah (the Lord of Pilgrimage), the last month of the Arab year. At this time there is a great throb through the framework of Moslem society from Gibraltar to Japan, and those who cannot visit the Holy City content themselveswith prayers and sacrifices at home. As the Moslem computation is lunar, the epoch retrocedes through the seasons in thirty-three years. When I visited Meccah, the rites began on September 12th and ended on September 14th, 1853. In 1863 the opening day was June 8th; the closing, June 10th.My readers will observe that the modern pilgrimage ceremonies of the Moslem are evidently a commemoration of Abraham and his descendants. The practices of the Father of the Faithful when he issued from the land of Chaldea seem to have formed a religious standard in the mind of the Arab law-giver, who preferred Abraham before all the other prophets, himself alone excepted.The day after our arrival at Meccah was the Yaum El Tarwiyah (the Day of Carrying Water), the first of the three which compose the pilgrimage season proper. From the earliest dawn the road was densely thronged with white-robed votaries, some walking, others mounted, and all shouting “Labbayk!” with all their might. As usual the scene was one of strange contrasts. Turkish dignitaries on fine horses, Bedouins bestriding swift dromedaries, the most uninteresting soldiery, and the most conspicuous beggars. Before nightfall I saw no less than five exhausted and emaciated devotees give up the ghost and become “martyrs.”The first object of interest lies on the right-hand side of the road. This was a high conical hill, known in books as Tebel Hora, but now called Tebel Nur,or Mountain of Light, because there Mohammed’s mind was first illuminated. The Cave of Revelation is still shown. It looks upon a wild scene. Eastward and southward the vision is limited by abrupt hills. In the other directions there is a dreary landscape, with here and there a stunted acacia or a clump of brushwood growing on rough ground, where stony glens and valleys of white sand, most of them water-courses after the rare rains, separate black, grey, and yellow rocks.Passing over El Akabah (the Steeps), an important spot in classical Arab history, we entered Muna, a hot hollow three or four miles from the barren valley of Meccah. It is a long, narrow, straggling village of mud and stone houses, single storied and double storied, built in the common Arab style. We were fated to see it again. At noon we passed Mugdalifah, or the Approacher, known to El Islam as the Minaret without the Mosque, and thus distinguished from a neighbouring building, the Mosque without the Minaret. There is something peculiarly impressive in the tall, solitary, tower springing from the desolate valley of gravel. No wonder that the old Arab conquerors loved to give the high-sounding name of this oratory to distant points in their extensive empire!Here, as we halted for the noon prayer, the Damascus caravan appeared in all its glory. The mahmal, or litter, sent by the Sultan to represent his presence, no longer a framework as on the line of march, nowflashed in the sun all gold and green, and the huge white camel seemed to carry it with pride. Around the moving host of peaceful pilgrims hovered a crowd of mounted Bedouins armed to the teeth. These people often visit Arafat for blood revenge; nothing can be more sacrilegious than murder at such a season, but they find the enemy unprepared. As their draperies floated in the wind and their faces were swathed and veiled with their head-kerchiefs, it was not always easy to distinguish the sex of the wild beings who hurried past at speed. The women were unscrupulous, and many were seen emulating the men in reckless riding, and in striking with their sticks at every animal in their way.Presently, after safely threading the gorge called the pass of the Two Rugged Hills, and celebrated for accidents, we passed between the two “signs”—whitewashed pillars, or, rather, tall towers, their walls surmounted with pinnacles. They mark the limits of the Arafat Plain—the Standing-Ground, as it is called. Here is sight of the Holy Hill of Arafat, standing boldly out from the fair blue sky, and backed by the azure peaks of Taif. All the pilgrim host raised loud shouts of “Labbayk!” The noise was that of a storm.We then sought our quarters in the town of tents scattered over two or three miles of plain at the southern foot of the Holy Hill, and there we passed a turbulent night of prayer.I estimated the total number of devotees to be fifty thousand; usually it may amount to eighty thousand.The Arabs, however, believe that the total of those “standing on Arafat” cannot be counted, and that if less than six hundred thousand human beings are gathered, the angels descend and make up the sum. Even inA.D.1853 my Moslem friends declared that a hundred and fifty thousand immortal beings were present in mortal shape.The Mount of Mercy, which is also called Tebel Ilál, or Mount of Wrestling in Prayer, is physically considered a mass of coarse granite, split into large blocks and thinly covered with a coat of withered thorns. It rises abruptly to a height of a hundred and eighty to two hundred feet from the gravelly flat, and it is separated by a sandy vale from the last spur of the Taif hills. The dwarf wall encircling it gives the barren eminence a somewhat artificial look, which is not diminished by the broad flight of steps winding up the southern face, and by the large stuccoed platform near the summit, where the preacher delivers the “Sermon of the Standing.”Arafat means “recognition,” and owes its name and honours to a well-known legend. When our first parents were expelled from Paradise, which, according to Moslems, is in the lowest of the seven heavens, Adam descended at Ceylon, Eve upon Arafat. The former, seeking his wife, began a journey to which the earth owes its present mottled appearance. Wherever he placed his foot a town arose in the fulness of time; between the strides all has remained country. Wandering for many years he came to theHoly Hill of Arafat, the Mountain of Mercy, where our common mother was continually calling upon his name, and their recognition of each other there gave the place its name. Upon the hill-top, Adam, instructed by the Archangel Gabriel, erected a prayer-station, and in its neighbourhood the pair abode until death.It is interesting to know that Adam’s grave is shown at Muna, the village through which we had passed that day. The mosque covering his remains is called El Kharf; his head is at one end of the long wall, his feet are at the other, and the dome covers his middle. Our first father’s forehead, we are told, originally brushed the skies, but this stature being found inconvenient, it was dwarfed to a hundred and fifty feet. Eve, again, is buried near the port of Meccah—Jeddah, which means the “grandmother.” She is supposed to lie, like a Moslemah, fronting the Kaabah, with her head southwards, her feet to the north, and her right cheek resting on her right hand. Whitewashed and conspicuous to the voyager from afar is the dome opening to the west, and covering a square stone fancifully carved to represent her middle. Two low parallel walls about eighteen feet apart define the mortal remains of our mother, who, as she measured a hundred and twenty paces from head to waist and eighty from waist to heel, must have presented in life a very peculiar appearance. The archæologist will remember that the great idol of Jeddah in the age of the Arab litholatry was a “long stone.”The next day, the 9th of the month Zu’l Hijjah, is known as Yaum Arafat (the Day of Arafat). After ablution and prayer, we visited sundry interesting places on the Mount of Mercy, and we breakfasted late and copiously, as we could not eat again before nightfall. Even at dawn the rocky hill was crowded with pilgrims, principally Bedouins and wild men, who had secured favourable places for hearing the discourse. From noon onwards the hum and murmur of the multitude waxed louder, people swarmed here and there, guns fired, and horsemen and camelmen rushed about in all directions. A discharge of cannon about 2 p.m. announced that the ceremony of wukuf, or standing on the Holy Hill, was about to commence.The procession was headed by the retinue of the Sherif, or Prince, of Meccah, the Pope of El Islam. A way for him was cleared through the dense mob of spectators by a cloud of macebearers and by horsemen of the desert carrying long bamboo spears tufted with black ostrich feathers. These were followed by led horses, the proudest blood of Arabia, and by a stalwart band of negro matchlock men. Five red and green flags immediately preceded the Prince, who, habited in plain pilgrim garb, rode a fine mule. The only sign of his rank was a fine green silk and gold umbrella, held over his head by one of his slaves. He was followed by his family and courtiers, and the rear was brought up by a troop of Bedouins on horses and dromedaries. The picturesque background of the scene was the granite hill, covered, wherever footcould be planted, with half-naked devotees, crying “Labbayk!” at the top of their voices, and violently waving the skirts of their gleaming garments. It was necessary to stand literally upon Arafat, but we did not go too near, and a little way off sighted the preacher sitting, after the manner of Mohammed, on his camel and delivering the sermon. Slowly thecortègewound its way towards the Mount of Mercy. Exactly at afternoon prayer-time, the two mahmal, or ornamental litters, of Damascus and Cairo, took their station side by side on a platform in the lower part of the hill. A little above them stood the Prince of Meccah, within hearing of the priest. The pilgrims crowded around them. The loud cries were stilled, and the waving of white robes ceased.Then the preacher began the “Sermon of the Mount,” which teaches the devotees the duties of the season. At first it was spoken without interruption; then: loud “Amin” and volleys of “Labbayk” exploded at certain intervals. At last the breeze became laden with a purgatorial chorus of sobs, cries, and shrieks. Even the Meccans, who, like the sons of other Holy Cities, are hardened to holy days, thought it proper to appear affected, and those unable to squeeze out a tear buried their faces in the corners of their pilgrim cloths. I buried mine—at intervals.The sermon lasted about three hours, and when sunset was near, the preacher gave the israf, or permission to depart. Then began that risky part of the ceremony known as the “hurrying fromArafat.” The pilgrims all rushed down the Mount of Mercy with cries like trumpet blasts, and took the road to Muna. Every man urged his beast to the uttermost over the plain, which bristled with pegs, and was strewn with struck tents. Pedestrians were trampled, litters were crushed, and camels were thrown; here a woman, there a child, was lost, whilst night coming on without twilight added to the chaotic confusion of the scene. The pass of the Two Rugged Hills, where all the currents converged, was the crisis, after which progress was easier. We spent, however, at least three hours in reaching Mugdalifah, and there we resolved to sleep. The minaret was brilliantly illuminated, but my companions apparently thought more of rest and supper than of prayer. The night was by no means peaceful nor silent. Lines of laden beasts passed us every ten minutes, devotees guarding their boxes from plunderers gave loud tokens of being wide awake, and the shouting of travellers continued till near dawn.The 10th of Zu’l Hijjah, the day following the sermon, is called Yaum Vahr (the Day of Camel Killing), or EEd El Kurban (the Festival of the Sacrifice), the Kurban Bairam of the Turks. It is the most solemn of the year, and it holds amongst Moslems the rank which Easter Day claims from Christendom.We awoke at daybreak, and exchanged with all around us the compliments of the season—“EEd Kum mubarak”—“May your festival be auspicious.” Then each man gathered for himself seven jamrah(bits of granite the size of a small bean), washed them in “seven waters,” and then proceeded to the western end of the long street which forms the village of Muna. Here is the place called the Great Devil, to distinguish it from two others, the Middle Devil and the First Devil, or the easternmost. The outward and visible signs are nothing but short buttresses of whitewashed masonry placed against a rough wall in the main thoroughfare. Some derive the rite from the days of Adam, who put to flight the Evil One by pelting him, as Martin Luther did with the inkstand. Others opine that the ceremony is performed in imitation of Abraham, who, meeting Sathanas at Muna, and being tempted to disobedience in the matter of sacrificing his son, was commanded by Allah to drive him away with stones. Pilgrims approach if possible within five paces of the pillar, and throw at it successfully seven pebbles, holding each one between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, either extended, or shooting it as a boy does a marble. At every cast they exclaim: “In the name of Allah, and Allah is almighty! In hatred to the Fiend and to his shame I do this!” It is one of the local miracles that all the pebbles thus flung return by spiritual agency whence they came.As Satan was malicious enough to appear in a rugged lane hardly forty feet broad, the place was rendered dangerous by the crowd. On one side stood the devil’s buttress and wall, bristling with wild men and boys. Opposite it was a row oftemporary booths tenanted by barbers, and the space between swarmed with pilgrims, all trying to get at the enemy of mankind. A monkey might have run over the heads of the mob. Amongst them were horsemen flogging their steeds, Bedouins urging frightened camels, and running footmen opening paths for the grandees, their masters, by assault and battery. We congratulated each other, the boy Mohammed and I, when we escaped with trifling hurts. Some Moslem travellers assert, by way of miracle, that no man was ever killed during the ceremony of rajm, or lapidation. Several Meccans, however, assured me that fatal accidents are by no means rare.After throwing the seven pebbles, we doffed our pilgrim garb, and returned to ihlal, or normal attire.The barber placed us upon an earthen bench in the open shop, shaved our heads, trimmed our beards, and pared our nails, causing us to repeat after him: “I purpose throwing off my ceremonial attire, according to the practice of the Prophet—whom may Allah bless and preserve! O Allah, grant to me for every hair a light, a purity, and a generous reward! In the name of Allah, and Allah is almighty!” The barber then addressed me: “Naiman”—“Pleasure to thee!”—and I responded: “Allah, givetheepleasure!” Now we could at once use cloths to cover our heads, and slippers to defend our feet from fiery sun and hot soil, and we might safely twirl our mustachios and stroke our beards—placid enjoymentsof which we had been deprived by the ceremonial law.The day ended with the sacrifice of an animal to commemorate the substitution of a ram for Ishmael, the father of the Arabs. The place of the original offering is in the Muna Valley, and it is still visited by pilgrims. None but the Kruma, the Pacha, and high dignitaries slaughter camels. These beasts are killed by thrusting a knife into the interval between the throat and the breast, the muscles of the wind-pipe being too hard and thick to cut; their flesh is lawful to the Arabs, but not to the Hebrews. Oxen, sheep, and goats are made to face the Kaabah, and their throats are cut, the sacrificer ejaculating: “In the name of Allah! Allah is almighty!” It is meritorious to give away the victim without eating any part of it, and thus crowds of poor pilgrims were enabled to regale themselves.There is a terrible want of cleanliness in this sacrifice. Thousands of animals are cut up and left unburied in this “Devil’s Punchbowl.” I leave the rest to the imagination. Pilgrims usually pass in the Muna Valley the Days of Flesh Drying—namely, the 11th, the 12th, and the 13th of the month Zu’l Hijjah—and on the two former the Great, the Middle, and the Little Satan are again pelted. The standing miracles of the place are that beasts and birds cannot prey there, nor can flies settle upon provisions exposed in the markets. But animals are frightened away by the bustling crowds, and flies arefound in myriads. The revolting scene, aided by a steady temperature of 120° Fahr., has more than once caused a desolating pestilence at Meccah: the cholera of 1865 has been traced back to it; in fine, the safety of Europe demands the reformation of this filthy slaughter-house, which is still the same.The pilgrimage rites over, we returned to Meccah for a short sojourn. Visitors are advised, and wisely, not to linger long in the Holy City after the conclusion of the ceremonies. Use soon spoils the marvels, and, after the greater excitements, all becomes flat, stale, and unprofitable. The rite called umrah, or the “little pilgrimage,” and the running between Mounts Safa and Marwah, in imitation of Hagar seeking her child, remain to be performed. And there are many spots of minor sanctity to be visited, such as the Jannal El Maala, or Cemetery of the Saints, the mosque where the genii paid fealty to the Prophet, the house where Mohammed was born, that in which he lived with his first wife, Khadijah, and in which his daughter Fatimah and his grandsons Hasan and Hussayn saw the light, the place where the stone gave the founder of El Islam God-speed, and about a dozen others. Men, however, either neglect them or visit them cursorily, and think of little now beyond returning home.I must briefly sketch the Holy City before we bid it adieu.Meccah, also called Beccah, the words being synonymous, signifies according to some a “placeof great concourse,” is built between 21° and 22° of N. Lat. and in 39° E. Long. (Greenwich).[5]It is therefore more decidedly tropical than El Medinah, and the parallel corresponds with that of Cuba. The origin of the Bayt Ullah is lost in the glooms of time, but Meccah as it now stands is a comparatively modern place, built inA.D.450 by Kusayr the Kuraysh. It is a city colligated together like Jerusalem and Rome. The site is a winding valley in the midst of many little hills; the effect is that it offers no generalcoup d’œil. Thus the views of Meccah known to Europe are not more like Meccah than like Cairo or Bombay.The utmost length of the Holy City is two miles and a half from the Mab’dah, or northern suburb, to the southern mound called Jiyad. The extreme breadth may be three-quarters between the Abu Kubays hill on the east and the Kaykaan, or Kuwaykaan, eminence on the west. The mass ofhouses clusters at the western base of Abu Kubays. The mounts called Safa and Marwah extend from Abu Kubays to Kayhaan, and are about seven hundred and eighty cubits apart. The great temple is near the centre of the city, as the Kaabah is near the middle of the temple. Upon Jebel Jiyad the Greater there is a fort held by Turkish soldiery; it seems to have no great strength. In olden time Meccah had walls and gates; now there are none.The ground in and about the Holy City is sandy and barren, the hills are rocky and desert. Meat, fruits, and vegetables must be importedviâJeddah, the port, distant about forty-five miles. The climate is exceedingly hot and rarely tempered by the sea breeze. I never suffered so much from temperature as during my fortnight at Meccah.The capital of the Hejaz, which is about double the size of El Medinah, has all the conveniences of a city. The streets are narrow, deep, and well watered. The houses are durable and well built of brick mixed with granite and sandstone, quarried in the neighbouring hills. Some of them are five stories high, and more like fortresses than dwelling-places. The lime, however, is bad, and after heavy rain, sometimes ten days in the year, those of inferior structure fall in ruins. None but the best have open-work of brick and courses of coloured stone. The roofs are made flat to serve for sleeping-places, the interiors are sombre to keep out the heat; they have jutting upper stories, as in the old town of Brazil, and huge latticedhanging balconies—the maswrabujah of Cairo, here called the shamiyah—project picturesquely into the streets and the small squares in which the city abounds.The population is guessed at forty-five thousand souls. The citizens appeared to me more civilised and more vicious than those of El Medinah, and their habit of travel makes them a worldly-wise and God-forgetting and Mammonist sort of folk. “Circumambulate and run between Mounts Safa and Marwah and do the seven deadly sins,” is a satire popularly levelled against them. Their redeeming qualities are courage,bonhomie, manners at once manly and suave, a fiery sense of honour, strong family affections, and a near approach to what we call patriotism. The dark half of the picture is pride, bigotry, irreligion, greed of gain, debauchery, and prodigal ostentation.Unlike his brother of El Medinah, the Meccan is a swarthy man. He is recognised throughout the east by three parallel gashes down each cheek, from the exterior angles of the eyes to the corners of the mouth. These mashali, as they call them, are clean contrary to the commands of El Islam. The people excuse the practice by saying that it preserves their children from being kidnapped, and it is performed the fortieth day after birth.The last pilgrimage ceremony performed at Meccah is the Tawaf el Widaaf, or circumambulation of farewell, a solemn occasion. The devotee walks round the House of Allah, he drinks the water ofthe Zemzem well, he kisses the threshold of the door, and he stands for some time with his face and bosom pressed against the multazem wall, clinging to the curtain, reciting religious formulas, blessing the Prophet, weeping if possible, but at least groaning. He then leaves the temple, backing out of it with many salutations till he reaches the Gate of Farewell, when, with a parting glance at the Kaabah, he turns his face towards home.I will not dwell upon my return journey—how, accompanied by the boy Mohammed, I reached Jeddah on the Red Sea, how my countrymen refused for a time to believe me, and how I sadly parted with my Moslem friends. My wanderings ended for a time, and, worn out with fatigue and with the fatal fiery heat, I steamed out of Jeddah on September 26th in the littleDwarka, and on October 3rd, 1853, after six months’ absence from England, I found myself safely anchored in Suez Harbour.[5]Both latitude and longitude are disputed points, as the following table shows. The Arabs, it must be remembered, placed the first meridian at the Fortunate Islands:The Atwalmakes the latitude21°40′, longitude67°13′Kanun”21°20′”67°0′Ibu Said”21°31′”67°31′Rasm”21°0′”67°0′Khúshyar”21°40′”67°10′Masr el Din”21°40′”77°10′D’Anville”22°0′”77°10′Niebuhr”21°30′”77°10′Humbodlt, therefore, is hardly right to say:“L’erreur est que le Mecque paraissait déjà aux Arabes de 19° trop a l’est” (“Correspondence,”p.459).
OnWednesday, August 31st, 1853, I embraced my good host, Shaykh Hamid, who had taken great trouble to see me perfectly provided for the journey. Shortly after leaving El Medinah we all halted and turned to take a last farewell. All the pilgrims dismounted and gazed long and wistfully at the venerable minarets and the Prophet’s green dome—spots upon which their memories would ever dwell with a fond and yearning interest.
We hurried after the Damascus caravan, and presently fell into its wake. Our line was called the Darb el Sharki, or eastern road. It owes its existence to the piety of Zubaydah Khatun, wife of the well-known Harun el Rashid. That esteemed princess dug wells, built tanks, and raised, we are told, a wall with occasional towers between Bagdad and Meccah, to guide pilgrims over the shifting sands. Few vestiges of all this labour remained in the year of grace 1853.
Striking is the appearance of the caravan as it draggles its slow length along
The golden desert glittering throughThe subtle veil of beams,
The golden desert glittering throughThe subtle veil of beams,
The golden desert glittering through
The subtle veil of beams,
as the poet of “Palm-leaves” has it. The sky is terrible in its pitiless splendours and blinding beauty while the simoon, or wind of the wild, caresses the cheek with the flaming breath of a lion. The filmy spray of sand and the upseething of the atmosphere, the heat-reek and the dancing of the air upon the baked surface of the bright yellow soil, blending with the dazzling blue above, invests the horizon with a broad band of deep dark green, and blurs the gaunt figures of the camels, which, at a distance, appear strings of gigantic birds.
There are evidently eight degrees of pilgrims. The lowest walk, propped on heavy staves; these are the itinerant coffee-makers, sherbet sellers, and tobacconists, country folks driving flocks of sheep and goats with infinite clamour and gesticulation, negroes from distant Africa, and crowds of paupers, some approaching the supreme hour, but therefore yearning the more to breathe their last in the Holy City. Then come the humble riders of laden camels, mules, and asses, which the Bedouin, who clings baboon-like to the hairy back of his animal, despises, saying:—
Honourable to the rider is the riding of the horse;But the mule is a dishonour, and a donkey a disgrace.
Honourable to the rider is the riding of the horse;But the mule is a dishonour, and a donkey a disgrace.
Honourable to the rider is the riding of the horse;
But the mule is a dishonour, and a donkey a disgrace.
Respectable men mount dromedaries, or blood-camels, known by their small size, their fine limbs, and their large deer-like eyes: their saddles show crimson sheep-skins between tall metal pommels, and these are girthed over fine saddle-bags, whose long tassels of bright worsted hang almost to the ground.Irregular soldiers have picturesquely equipped steeds. Here and there rides some old Arab shaykh, preceded by his varlets performing a war-dance, compared with which the bear’s performance is graceful, firing their duck-guns in the air, or blowing powder into the naked legs of those before them, brandishing their bared swords, leaping frantically with parti-coloured rags floating in the wind, and tossing high their long spears. Women, children, and invalids of the poorer classes sit upon rugs or carpets spread over the large boxes that form the camel’s load. Those a little better off use a shibriyah, or short coat, fastened crosswise. The richer prefer shugduf panniers with an awning like a miniature tent. Grandees have led horses and gorgeously painted takhtrawan—litters like the bangué of Brazil—borne between camels or mules with scarlet and brass trappings. The vehicle mainly regulates the pilgrim’s expenses, which may vary from five pounds to as many thousands.
I will not describe the marches in detail: they much resemble those between Yambu and El Medinah. We nighted at two small villages, El Suwayrkiyah and El Suyayna, which supplied a few provisions to a caravan of seven thousand to eight thousand souls. For the most part it is a haggard land, a country of wild beasts and wilder men, a region whose very fountains murmur the warning words, “Drink and away,” instead of “Rest and be thankful.” In other places it is a desert peopled only with echoes, anabode of death for what little there is to die in it, a waste where, to use an Arab phrase, “La Siwa Hu”—“There is none butHe.” Gigantic sand columns whirl over the plains, the horizon is a sea of mirage, and everywhere Nature, flayed and scalped, discovers her skeleton to the gazer’s eye.
We passed over many ridges of rough black basalt, low plains, and basins white with nitrous salt, acacia barrens where litters were torn off the camels’ backs by the strong thorns, and domes and streets of polished rock. Now we travelled down dry torrent-beds of extreme irregularity, then we wended our way along cliffs castellated as if by men’s hand, and boulders and pillars of coarse-grained granite, sometimes thirty feet high. Quartz abounded, and the country may have contained gold, but here the superficial formation has long since been exhausted. In Arabia, as in the East Indies, the precious metal still lingers. At Cairo in 1854 I obtained good results by washing sand brought from the coast of the Red Sea north of Wijh. My plan for working was rendered abortive by a certain dictum, since become a favourite with the governing powers in England—namely, “Gold is getting too plentiful.”
Few animals except vultures and ravens meet the eye. Once, however, we enjoyed a grand spectacle. It was a large yellow lion, somewhat white about the points—a sign of age—seated in a statuesque pose upon a pedestal of precipitous rock by the wayside, and gazing upon the passing spectacle as if monarchof all he surveyed. The caravan respected the wild beast, and no one molested it. The Bedouin of Arabia has a curious custom when he happens to fall in with a lion: he makes a profound salaam, says many complimentary things, and begs his majesty not to harm a poor man with a large family. If the brute be not hungry, the wayfarer is allowed to pass on; the latter, however, is careful when returning to follow another path. “The father of roaring,” he remarks, “has repented of having missed a meal.”
On Friday, September 9th, we encamped at Zaribah, two marches, or forty-seven miles, from Meccah. This being the north-eastern limit of the sanctuary, we exchanged our everyday dress for the pilgrim garb, which is known as el ihrám, or mortification. Between the noontide and the afternoon prayers our heads were shaved, our beards and nails trimmed, and we were made to bathe. We then put on the attire which seems to be the obsolete costume of the ancient Arabs. It consists of two cotton cloths, each six feet long by three or four feet wide, white, with narrow red stripes and fringes—in fact, that adopted in the Turkish baths of London. One of these sheets is thrown over the back and is gathered at the right side, the arm being left exposed. The waistcloth extends like a belt to the knee, and, being tucked in at the waist, supports itself. The head is bared to the rabid sun, and the insteps, which must also be left naked, suffer severely.
Thus equipped, we performed a prayer of twoprostrations, and recited aloud the peculiar formula of pilgrimage called Talbiyat. In Arabic it is:
Labbayk, ’Allahumma, Labbayk!La Sharika laka. Labbayk!Jun ’al Hamda wa’ n’ Niamata laka w’ al Mulh!La Sharika laka. Labbayk!
Labbayk, ’Allahumma, Labbayk!La Sharika laka. Labbayk!Jun ’al Hamda wa’ n’ Niamata laka w’ al Mulh!La Sharika laka. Labbayk!
Labbayk, ’Allahumma, Labbayk!
La Sharika laka. Labbayk!
Jun ’al Hamda wa’ n’ Niamata laka w’ al Mulh!
La Sharika laka. Labbayk!
which I would translate thus:
Here I am, O Allah, here am I!No partner hast thou. Here am I!Verily the praise and the grace are thine, and the kingdom!No partner hast thou. Here am I.
Here I am, O Allah, here am I!No partner hast thou. Here am I!Verily the praise and the grace are thine, and the kingdom!No partner hast thou. Here am I.
Here I am, O Allah, here am I!
No partner hast thou. Here am I!
Verily the praise and the grace are thine, and the kingdom!
No partner hast thou. Here am I.
The director of our consciences now bade us be good pilgrims, avoiding quarrels, abusive language, light conversation, and all immorality. We must religiously respect the sanctuary of Meccah by sparing the trees and avoiding to destroy animal life, excepting, however, the “five instances,”—a crow, a kite, a rat, a scorpion, and a biting dog. We must abstain from washes and perfumes, oils, dyes, and cosmetics; we must not pare the nails nor shave, pluck or cut the hair, nor must we tie knots in our garments. We were forbidden to cover our heads with turban or umbrella, although allowed to take advantage of the shade, and ward off the sun with our hands. And for each infraction of these ordinances we were commanded to sacrifice a sheep.
The women followed our example. This alone would disprove the baseless but wide-world calumny which declares that El Islam recognises no soul in, and consequently no future for, the opposite sex.The Early Fathers of the Christian Church may have held such tenet, the Mohammedans never. Pilgrimesses exchange the lisam—that coquettish fold of thin white muslin which veils, but does not hide, the mouth—for a hideous mask of split, dried, and plaited palm-leaves pierced with bull’s-eyes to admit the light. This ugly mask is worn because the veil must not touch the features. The rest of the outer garment is a long sheet of white cotton, covering the head and falling to the heels. We could hardly help laughing when these queer ghostly figures first met our sight, and, to judge from the shaking of their shoulders, they were as much amused as we were.
In mid-afternoon we left Zaribah, and presently it became apparent that although we were forbidden to take lives of others, others were not prevented from takingours. At 5 p.m. we came upon a wide, dry torrent-bed, down which we were to travel all night. It was a cut-throat place, with a stony, precipitous buttress on the right, faced by a grim and barren slope. Opposite us the way seemed to be barred by piles of hills, crest rising above crest in the far blue distance. Day still smiled upon the upper peaks, but the lower grounds and the road were already hung with sombre shade.
A damp fell upon our spirits as we neared this “Valley Perilous.” The voices of the women and children sank into deep silence, and the loud “Labbayk!” which the male pilgrims areordered to shout whenever possible, was gradually stilled.
The cause soon became apparent. A small curl of blue smoke on the summit of the right-hand precipice suddenly caught my eye, and, simultaneously with the echoing crack of the matchlock, a dromedary in front of me, shot through the heart, rolled on the sands. The Utajbah, bravest and most lawless of the brigand tribes of the Moslem’s Holy Land, were determined to boast that on such and such a night they stopped the Sultan’s caravan one whole hour in the pass.
There ensued a scene of terrible confusion. Women screamed, children cried, and men vociferated, each one striving with might and main to urge his animal beyond the place of death. But the road was narrow and half-choked with rocks and thorny shrubs; the vehicles and animals were soon jammed into a solid and immovable mass, whilst at every shot a cold shudder ran through the huge body. Our guard, the irregular horsemen, about one thousand in number, pushed up and down perfectly useless, shouting to and ordering one another. The Pacha of the soldiers had his carpet spread near the precipice, and over his pipe debated with the officers about what should be done. No one seemed to whisper, “Crown the heights.”
Presently two or three hundred Wahhabis—mountaineers of Tebel Shammar in North-Eastern Arabia—sprang from their barebacked camels, with their elf-locks tossing in the wind, and the flaming matchesof their guns casting a lurid light over their wild features. Led by the Sherif Zayd, a brave Meccan noble, who, happily for us, was present, they swarmed up the steep, and the robbers, after receiving a few shots, retired to fire upon our rear.
Our forced halt was now exchanged for a flight, and it required much tact to guide our camels clear of danger. Whoever and whatever fell, remained on the ground; that many were lost became evident from the boxes and baggage which strewed the shingles. I had no means of ascertaining our exact number of killed and wounded; reports were contradictory, and exaggeration was unanimous. The robbers were said to be one hundred and fifty in number. Besides honour and glory, they looked forward to the loot, and to a feast of dead camel.
We then hurried down the valley in the blackness of night, between ribbed precipices, dark and angry. The torch smoke and the night fires formed a canopy sable above and livid below, with lightning-flashes from the burning shrubs and grim crowds hurrying as if pursued by the Angel of Death. The scene would have suited the theatrical canvas of Doré.
At dawn we issued from the Perilous Pass into the Wady Laymun, or Valley of Limes. A wondrous contrast! Nothing can be more soothing to the brain than the rich green foliage of its pomegranates and other fruit-trees, and from the base of the southern hills bursts a babbling stream whose
Chiare fresche e dolci acque
flow through the garden, cooling the pure air, and filling the ear with the most delicious of melodies, the gladdest sound which nature in these regions knows.
At noon we bade adieu to the charming valley, which, since remote times, has been a favourite resort of the Meccan citizens.
At sunset we recited the prayers suited to the occasion, straining our eyes, but all in vain, to catch sight of Meccah. About 1 a.m. I was aroused by a general excitement around me.
“Meccah! Meccah!” cried some voices. “The sanctuary, oh, the sanctuary!” exclaimed others, and all burst into loud “Labbayk!” not infrequently broken by sobs. With a heartfelt “Alhamdu lillah,” I looked from my litter and saw under the chandelier of the Southern Cross the dim outlines of a large city, a shade darker than the surrounding plain.
A cool east wind met us, showing that it was raining in the Taif hills, and at times sheet lightning played around the Prophet’s birthplace—a common phenomenon, which Moslems regard as the testimony of Heaven to the sanctity of the spot.
Passing through a deep cutting, we entered the northern suburb of our destination. Then I made to the Shamiyah, or Syrian quarter, and finally, at 2 a.m., I found myself at the boy Mohammed’s house. We arrived on the morning of Sunday, September 11th, 1853, corresponding with Zu’l Hijjah 6th, 1269. Thus we had the whole dayto spend in visiting the haram, and a quiet night before the opening of the true pilgrim season, which would begin on the morrow.
The morrow dawned. After a few hours of sleep and a ceremonial ablution, we donned the pilgrim garb, and with loud and long “Labbayk!” we hastened to the Bayt Ullah, or House of Allah, as the great temple of Meccah is called.
At the bottom of our street was the outer Bab El Salam, or Gate of Security, looking towards the east, and held to be, of all the thirty-nine, the most auspicious entrance for a first visit.
Here we descended several steps, for the level of the temple has been preserved, whilst the foundations of the city have been raised by the decay of ages. We then passed through a shady colonnade divided into aisles, here four, and in the other sides three, pillars deep. These cloisters are a forest of columns upwards of five hundred and fifty in number, and in shape and material they are as irregular as trees. The outer arches of the colonnade are ogives, and every four support a small dome like half an orange, and white with plaster: some reckon one hundred and twenty, others one hundred and fifty, and Meccan superstition declares they cannot be counted. The rear of the cloisters rests upon an outer wall of cut stone, finished with pinnacles, or Arab battlements, and at different points in it rise seven minarets. These are tall towers much less bulky than ours, partly in facets, circular, and partly cylindrical, builtat distinct epochs, and somewhat tawdrily banded with gaudy colours.
This vast colonnade surrounds a large unroofed and slightly irregular oblong, which may be compared with an exaggeration of the Palais Royal, Paris. This sanded area is six hundred and fifty feet long by five hundred and twenty-five broad, dotted with small buildings grouped round a common centre, and is crossed by eight narrow lines of flagged pavement. Towards the middle of it, one hundred and fifteen paces from the northern colonnade and eighty-eight from the southern, and based upon an irregularly oval pavement of fine close grey gneiss, or granite, rises the far-famed Kaabah, or inner temple, its funereal pall contrasting vividly with the sunlit walls and the yellow precipices of the city.
Behold it at last, the bourn of long and weary travel, realising the plans and hopes of many and many a year! This, then, is the kibbal, or direction, towards which every Moslem has turned in prayer since the days of Mohammed, and which for long ages before the birth of Christianity was reverenced by the patriarchs of the East.
No wonder that the scene is one of the wildest excitement! Here are worshippers clinging to the curtain and sobbing as though their hearts would break; here some poor wretch with arms thrown high, so that his beating breast may touch the stone of the house, appears ready to faint, and there men prostrate themselves on the pavement, rubbing theirforeheads against the stones, shedding floods of tears, and pouring forth frenzied ejaculations. The most careless, indeed, never contemplate it for the first time without fear and awe. There is a popular jest against new-comers that in the presence of the Kaabah they generally inquire the direction of prayer, although they have all their lives been praying towards it as the early Christian fronted Jerusalem.
But we must look more critically at the celebrated shrine.
The word Kaabah means a cube, a square, amaison carrée. It is called Bayt Ullah (House of God) because according to the Koran it is “certainly the first temple erected for mankind.” It is also known as the “Bride of Meccah,” probably from the old custom of typifying the Church Visible by a young married woman—hence probably its face-veil, its covering, and its guard of eunuchs. Externally it is a low tower of fine grey granite laid in horizontal courses of irregular depth; the stones are tolerably fitted, and are not cemented. It shows no signs of decay, and indeed, in its present form, it dates only from 1627. The shape is rather a trapezoid than a square, being forty feet long by thirty-five broad and forty-five high, the flat roof having a cubit of depression from south-west to north-east, where a gold or gilt spout discharges the drainage. The foundation is a marble base two feet high, and presents a sharp inclined plane.
All the Kaabah except the roof is covered witha kiswatu garment. It is a pall-like hanging, the work of a certain family at Cairo, and annually renewed. The ground is dully black, and Koranic verses interwoven into it are shining black. There is a door curtain of gold thread upon red silk, and a bright band of similar material, called the face-veil of the house, two feet broad, runs horizontally round the Kaabah at two-thirds of its height. This covering when new is tucked up by ropes from the roof; when old it is fastened to large metal rings welded into the basement of the building. When this peculiar adjunct to the shrine is swollen and moved by the breeze, pious Moslems believe that angels are waving their wings over it.
The only entrance to the Kaabah is a narrow door of aloe wood, in the eastern side. It is now raised seven feet, and one enters it hoisted up in men’s arms. InA.D.686, when the whole building took its present shape, it was level with the external ground. The Kaabah opens gratis ten or twelve times a year, when crowds rush in and men lose their lives. Wealthy pilgrims obtain the favour by paying for it. Scrupulous Moslems do not willingly enter it, as they may never afterwards walk about barefooted, take up fire with their fingers, or tell lies. It is not every one who can afford such luxuries as slippers, tongs, and truth. Nothing is simpler than the interior of the building. The walls are covered with handsome red damask, flowered over with gold, tucked up beyond the pilgrim’s reach. The flat roof apparentlyrests upon three posts of carved and ornamented aloe wood.
Between the three pillars, and about nine feet from the ground, run metal bars, to which hang lamps, said to be gold. At the northern corner there is a dwarf door; it leads into a narrow passage and to the dwarf staircase by which the servants ascend to the roof. In the south-eastern corner is a quadrant-shaped sofa, also of aloe wood, and on it sits the guardian of the shrine.
The Hajar el Aswad, or black stone, of which all the world talks, is fixed in the south-eastern angle outside the house, between four and five feet from the ground, the more conveniently to be kissed. It shows a black and slaggy surface, glossy and pitch-like, worn and polished by myriads of lips; its diameter is about seven inches, and it appears only in the central aperture of a gilt or gold dish. The depth to which it extends into the wall is unknown: most people say two cubits.
Believers declare, with poetry, if not with reason, that in the day of Atast, when Allah made covenant concerning the souls that animate the sons of Adam, the instrument was placed in a fragment of the lower heaven, then white as snow, now black by reason of men’s sins. The rationalistic infidel opines this sacred corner-stone to be a common aerolite, a remnant of the stone-worship which considered it the symbol of power presiding over universal reproduction, and inserted by Mohammed into the edifice of El Islam.This relic has fared ill; it has been stolen and broken, and has suffered other accidents.
Another remarkable part of the Kaabah is that between the door and the black stone. It is called the multazem, or “attached to,” because here the pilgrim should apply his bosom, weep bitterly, and beg pardon for his sins. In ancient times, according to some authors, it was the place for contracting solemn engagements.
The pavement which surrounds the Kaabah is about eight inches high, and the inside is marked by an oval balustrade of some score and a half of slender gilt metal pillars. Between every two of these cross rods support oil lamps, with globes of white and green glasses. Gas is much wanted at Meccah! At the north end, and separated by a space of about five feet from the building, is El Hatrim, or the “broken,” a dwarf semi-circular wall, whose extremities are on a line with the sides of the Kaabah. In its concavity are two slabs of a finer stone, which cover the remains of Ishmael, and of his mother Hagar. The former, I may be allowed to remark, is regarded by Moslems as the eldest son and legitimate successor of Abraham, in opposition to the Jews, who prefer Isaac, the child of Sarai the free woman. It is an old dispute and not likely to be soon settled.
Besides the Kaabah, ten minor structures dot the vast quadrangle. The most important is the massive covering of the well Zemzem. The word means “the murmuring,” and here the water gushed fromthe ground where the child Ishmael was shuffling his feet in the agonies of thirst. The supply is abundant, but I found it nauseously bitter; its external application, however, when dashed like a douche over the pilgrim, causes sins to fall from his soul like dust.
On the south-east, and near the well, are the Kubbatayn, two domes crowning heavy ugly buildings, vulgarly painted with red, green, and yellow bands; one of these domes is used as a library. Directly opposite the Kaabah door is a short ladder or staircase of carved wood, which is wheeled up to the entrance door on the rare occasions when it is opened. North of it is the inner Bab El Salam, or Gate of Security, under which the pilgrims pass in their first visit to the shrine. It is a slightly built and detached arch of stone, about fifteen feet of space in width and eighteen in height, somewhat like our meaningless triumphal arches, which come from no place and go nowhere. Between this and the Kaabah stands the Makam Ibraham, or Station of Abraham, a small building containing the stone which supported the Friend of Allah when he was building the house. It served for a scaffold, rising and falling of itself as required, and it preserved the impressions of Abraham’s feet, especially of the two big toes. Devout and wealthy pilgrims fill the cavities with water, which they rub over their eyes and faces with physical as well as spiritual refreshment. To the north of it is a fine white marble pulpit with narrow steps leading to the preacher’s post, which is supported by a gilt andsharply tapering steeple. Lastly, opposite the northern, the western, and the south-eastern sides of the Kaabah, stand three ornamental pavilions, with light sloping roofs resting on slender pillars. From these the representatives of the three orthodox schools direct the prayers of their congregations. The Shafli, or fourth branch, collect between the corner of the well Zemzem and the Station of Abraham, whilst the heretical sects lay claim to certain mysterious and invisible places of reunion.
I must now describe what the pilgrims do.
Entering with the boy Mohammed, who acted as my mutawwif, or circuit guide, we passed through the inner Gate of Security, uttering various religious formulas, and we recited the usual two-prostration prayer in honour of the mosque at the Shafli place of worship. We then proceeded to the angle of the house, in which the black stone is set, and there recited other prayers before beginning tawaf, or circumambulation. The place was crowded with pilgrims, all males—women rarely appear during the hours of light. Bareheaded and barefooted they passed the giant pavement, which, smooth as glass and hot as sun can make it, surrounds the Kaabah, suggesting the idea of perpetual motion. Meccans declare that at no time of the day or night is the place ever wholly deserted.
Circumambulation consists of seven shauts, or rounds, of the house, to which the left shoulder is turned, and each noted spot has its peculiar prayers.The three first courses are performed at a brisk trot, like the Frenchpas gymnastique. The four latter are leisurely passed. The origin of this custom is variously accounted for. The general idea is that Mohammed directed his followers thus to show themselves strong and active to the infidels, who had declared them to have been weakened by the air of El Medinah.
When I had performed my seven courses I fought my way through the thin-legged host of Bedouins, and kissed the black stone, rubbing my hands and forehead upon it. There were some other unimportant devotions, which concluded with a douche at the well Zemzem, and with a general almsgiving. The circumambulation ceremony is performed several times in the day, despite the heat. It is positive torture.
The visit to the Kaabah, however, does not entitle a man to be called haji. The essence of pilgrimage is to be present at the sermon pronounced by the preacher on the Holy Hill of Arafat, distant about twelve miles from, and to the east of, Meccah. This performed even in a state of insensibility is valid, and to die by the roadside is martyrdom, saving all the pains and penalties of the tomb.
The visit, however, must be paid on the 8th, 9th, and the 10th of the month Zu’l Hijjah (the Lord of Pilgrimage), the last month of the Arab year. At this time there is a great throb through the framework of Moslem society from Gibraltar to Japan, and those who cannot visit the Holy City content themselveswith prayers and sacrifices at home. As the Moslem computation is lunar, the epoch retrocedes through the seasons in thirty-three years. When I visited Meccah, the rites began on September 12th and ended on September 14th, 1853. In 1863 the opening day was June 8th; the closing, June 10th.
My readers will observe that the modern pilgrimage ceremonies of the Moslem are evidently a commemoration of Abraham and his descendants. The practices of the Father of the Faithful when he issued from the land of Chaldea seem to have formed a religious standard in the mind of the Arab law-giver, who preferred Abraham before all the other prophets, himself alone excepted.
The day after our arrival at Meccah was the Yaum El Tarwiyah (the Day of Carrying Water), the first of the three which compose the pilgrimage season proper. From the earliest dawn the road was densely thronged with white-robed votaries, some walking, others mounted, and all shouting “Labbayk!” with all their might. As usual the scene was one of strange contrasts. Turkish dignitaries on fine horses, Bedouins bestriding swift dromedaries, the most uninteresting soldiery, and the most conspicuous beggars. Before nightfall I saw no less than five exhausted and emaciated devotees give up the ghost and become “martyrs.”
The first object of interest lies on the right-hand side of the road. This was a high conical hill, known in books as Tebel Hora, but now called Tebel Nur,or Mountain of Light, because there Mohammed’s mind was first illuminated. The Cave of Revelation is still shown. It looks upon a wild scene. Eastward and southward the vision is limited by abrupt hills. In the other directions there is a dreary landscape, with here and there a stunted acacia or a clump of brushwood growing on rough ground, where stony glens and valleys of white sand, most of them water-courses after the rare rains, separate black, grey, and yellow rocks.
Passing over El Akabah (the Steeps), an important spot in classical Arab history, we entered Muna, a hot hollow three or four miles from the barren valley of Meccah. It is a long, narrow, straggling village of mud and stone houses, single storied and double storied, built in the common Arab style. We were fated to see it again. At noon we passed Mugdalifah, or the Approacher, known to El Islam as the Minaret without the Mosque, and thus distinguished from a neighbouring building, the Mosque without the Minaret. There is something peculiarly impressive in the tall, solitary, tower springing from the desolate valley of gravel. No wonder that the old Arab conquerors loved to give the high-sounding name of this oratory to distant points in their extensive empire!
Here, as we halted for the noon prayer, the Damascus caravan appeared in all its glory. The mahmal, or litter, sent by the Sultan to represent his presence, no longer a framework as on the line of march, nowflashed in the sun all gold and green, and the huge white camel seemed to carry it with pride. Around the moving host of peaceful pilgrims hovered a crowd of mounted Bedouins armed to the teeth. These people often visit Arafat for blood revenge; nothing can be more sacrilegious than murder at such a season, but they find the enemy unprepared. As their draperies floated in the wind and their faces were swathed and veiled with their head-kerchiefs, it was not always easy to distinguish the sex of the wild beings who hurried past at speed. The women were unscrupulous, and many were seen emulating the men in reckless riding, and in striking with their sticks at every animal in their way.
Presently, after safely threading the gorge called the pass of the Two Rugged Hills, and celebrated for accidents, we passed between the two “signs”—whitewashed pillars, or, rather, tall towers, their walls surmounted with pinnacles. They mark the limits of the Arafat Plain—the Standing-Ground, as it is called. Here is sight of the Holy Hill of Arafat, standing boldly out from the fair blue sky, and backed by the azure peaks of Taif. All the pilgrim host raised loud shouts of “Labbayk!” The noise was that of a storm.
We then sought our quarters in the town of tents scattered over two or three miles of plain at the southern foot of the Holy Hill, and there we passed a turbulent night of prayer.
I estimated the total number of devotees to be fifty thousand; usually it may amount to eighty thousand.The Arabs, however, believe that the total of those “standing on Arafat” cannot be counted, and that if less than six hundred thousand human beings are gathered, the angels descend and make up the sum. Even inA.D.1853 my Moslem friends declared that a hundred and fifty thousand immortal beings were present in mortal shape.
The Mount of Mercy, which is also called Tebel Ilál, or Mount of Wrestling in Prayer, is physically considered a mass of coarse granite, split into large blocks and thinly covered with a coat of withered thorns. It rises abruptly to a height of a hundred and eighty to two hundred feet from the gravelly flat, and it is separated by a sandy vale from the last spur of the Taif hills. The dwarf wall encircling it gives the barren eminence a somewhat artificial look, which is not diminished by the broad flight of steps winding up the southern face, and by the large stuccoed platform near the summit, where the preacher delivers the “Sermon of the Standing.”
Arafat means “recognition,” and owes its name and honours to a well-known legend. When our first parents were expelled from Paradise, which, according to Moslems, is in the lowest of the seven heavens, Adam descended at Ceylon, Eve upon Arafat. The former, seeking his wife, began a journey to which the earth owes its present mottled appearance. Wherever he placed his foot a town arose in the fulness of time; between the strides all has remained country. Wandering for many years he came to theHoly Hill of Arafat, the Mountain of Mercy, where our common mother was continually calling upon his name, and their recognition of each other there gave the place its name. Upon the hill-top, Adam, instructed by the Archangel Gabriel, erected a prayer-station, and in its neighbourhood the pair abode until death.
It is interesting to know that Adam’s grave is shown at Muna, the village through which we had passed that day. The mosque covering his remains is called El Kharf; his head is at one end of the long wall, his feet are at the other, and the dome covers his middle. Our first father’s forehead, we are told, originally brushed the skies, but this stature being found inconvenient, it was dwarfed to a hundred and fifty feet. Eve, again, is buried near the port of Meccah—Jeddah, which means the “grandmother.” She is supposed to lie, like a Moslemah, fronting the Kaabah, with her head southwards, her feet to the north, and her right cheek resting on her right hand. Whitewashed and conspicuous to the voyager from afar is the dome opening to the west, and covering a square stone fancifully carved to represent her middle. Two low parallel walls about eighteen feet apart define the mortal remains of our mother, who, as she measured a hundred and twenty paces from head to waist and eighty from waist to heel, must have presented in life a very peculiar appearance. The archæologist will remember that the great idol of Jeddah in the age of the Arab litholatry was a “long stone.”
The next day, the 9th of the month Zu’l Hijjah, is known as Yaum Arafat (the Day of Arafat). After ablution and prayer, we visited sundry interesting places on the Mount of Mercy, and we breakfasted late and copiously, as we could not eat again before nightfall. Even at dawn the rocky hill was crowded with pilgrims, principally Bedouins and wild men, who had secured favourable places for hearing the discourse. From noon onwards the hum and murmur of the multitude waxed louder, people swarmed here and there, guns fired, and horsemen and camelmen rushed about in all directions. A discharge of cannon about 2 p.m. announced that the ceremony of wukuf, or standing on the Holy Hill, was about to commence.
The procession was headed by the retinue of the Sherif, or Prince, of Meccah, the Pope of El Islam. A way for him was cleared through the dense mob of spectators by a cloud of macebearers and by horsemen of the desert carrying long bamboo spears tufted with black ostrich feathers. These were followed by led horses, the proudest blood of Arabia, and by a stalwart band of negro matchlock men. Five red and green flags immediately preceded the Prince, who, habited in plain pilgrim garb, rode a fine mule. The only sign of his rank was a fine green silk and gold umbrella, held over his head by one of his slaves. He was followed by his family and courtiers, and the rear was brought up by a troop of Bedouins on horses and dromedaries. The picturesque background of the scene was the granite hill, covered, wherever footcould be planted, with half-naked devotees, crying “Labbayk!” at the top of their voices, and violently waving the skirts of their gleaming garments. It was necessary to stand literally upon Arafat, but we did not go too near, and a little way off sighted the preacher sitting, after the manner of Mohammed, on his camel and delivering the sermon. Slowly thecortègewound its way towards the Mount of Mercy. Exactly at afternoon prayer-time, the two mahmal, or ornamental litters, of Damascus and Cairo, took their station side by side on a platform in the lower part of the hill. A little above them stood the Prince of Meccah, within hearing of the priest. The pilgrims crowded around them. The loud cries were stilled, and the waving of white robes ceased.
Then the preacher began the “Sermon of the Mount,” which teaches the devotees the duties of the season. At first it was spoken without interruption; then: loud “Amin” and volleys of “Labbayk” exploded at certain intervals. At last the breeze became laden with a purgatorial chorus of sobs, cries, and shrieks. Even the Meccans, who, like the sons of other Holy Cities, are hardened to holy days, thought it proper to appear affected, and those unable to squeeze out a tear buried their faces in the corners of their pilgrim cloths. I buried mine—at intervals.
The sermon lasted about three hours, and when sunset was near, the preacher gave the israf, or permission to depart. Then began that risky part of the ceremony known as the “hurrying fromArafat.” The pilgrims all rushed down the Mount of Mercy with cries like trumpet blasts, and took the road to Muna. Every man urged his beast to the uttermost over the plain, which bristled with pegs, and was strewn with struck tents. Pedestrians were trampled, litters were crushed, and camels were thrown; here a woman, there a child, was lost, whilst night coming on without twilight added to the chaotic confusion of the scene. The pass of the Two Rugged Hills, where all the currents converged, was the crisis, after which progress was easier. We spent, however, at least three hours in reaching Mugdalifah, and there we resolved to sleep. The minaret was brilliantly illuminated, but my companions apparently thought more of rest and supper than of prayer. The night was by no means peaceful nor silent. Lines of laden beasts passed us every ten minutes, devotees guarding their boxes from plunderers gave loud tokens of being wide awake, and the shouting of travellers continued till near dawn.
The 10th of Zu’l Hijjah, the day following the sermon, is called Yaum Vahr (the Day of Camel Killing), or EEd El Kurban (the Festival of the Sacrifice), the Kurban Bairam of the Turks. It is the most solemn of the year, and it holds amongst Moslems the rank which Easter Day claims from Christendom.
We awoke at daybreak, and exchanged with all around us the compliments of the season—“EEd Kum mubarak”—“May your festival be auspicious.” Then each man gathered for himself seven jamrah(bits of granite the size of a small bean), washed them in “seven waters,” and then proceeded to the western end of the long street which forms the village of Muna. Here is the place called the Great Devil, to distinguish it from two others, the Middle Devil and the First Devil, or the easternmost. The outward and visible signs are nothing but short buttresses of whitewashed masonry placed against a rough wall in the main thoroughfare. Some derive the rite from the days of Adam, who put to flight the Evil One by pelting him, as Martin Luther did with the inkstand. Others opine that the ceremony is performed in imitation of Abraham, who, meeting Sathanas at Muna, and being tempted to disobedience in the matter of sacrificing his son, was commanded by Allah to drive him away with stones. Pilgrims approach if possible within five paces of the pillar, and throw at it successfully seven pebbles, holding each one between the thumb and forefinger of the right hand, either extended, or shooting it as a boy does a marble. At every cast they exclaim: “In the name of Allah, and Allah is almighty! In hatred to the Fiend and to his shame I do this!” It is one of the local miracles that all the pebbles thus flung return by spiritual agency whence they came.
As Satan was malicious enough to appear in a rugged lane hardly forty feet broad, the place was rendered dangerous by the crowd. On one side stood the devil’s buttress and wall, bristling with wild men and boys. Opposite it was a row oftemporary booths tenanted by barbers, and the space between swarmed with pilgrims, all trying to get at the enemy of mankind. A monkey might have run over the heads of the mob. Amongst them were horsemen flogging their steeds, Bedouins urging frightened camels, and running footmen opening paths for the grandees, their masters, by assault and battery. We congratulated each other, the boy Mohammed and I, when we escaped with trifling hurts. Some Moslem travellers assert, by way of miracle, that no man was ever killed during the ceremony of rajm, or lapidation. Several Meccans, however, assured me that fatal accidents are by no means rare.
After throwing the seven pebbles, we doffed our pilgrim garb, and returned to ihlal, or normal attire.
The barber placed us upon an earthen bench in the open shop, shaved our heads, trimmed our beards, and pared our nails, causing us to repeat after him: “I purpose throwing off my ceremonial attire, according to the practice of the Prophet—whom may Allah bless and preserve! O Allah, grant to me for every hair a light, a purity, and a generous reward! In the name of Allah, and Allah is almighty!” The barber then addressed me: “Naiman”—“Pleasure to thee!”—and I responded: “Allah, givetheepleasure!” Now we could at once use cloths to cover our heads, and slippers to defend our feet from fiery sun and hot soil, and we might safely twirl our mustachios and stroke our beards—placid enjoymentsof which we had been deprived by the ceremonial law.
The day ended with the sacrifice of an animal to commemorate the substitution of a ram for Ishmael, the father of the Arabs. The place of the original offering is in the Muna Valley, and it is still visited by pilgrims. None but the Kruma, the Pacha, and high dignitaries slaughter camels. These beasts are killed by thrusting a knife into the interval between the throat and the breast, the muscles of the wind-pipe being too hard and thick to cut; their flesh is lawful to the Arabs, but not to the Hebrews. Oxen, sheep, and goats are made to face the Kaabah, and their throats are cut, the sacrificer ejaculating: “In the name of Allah! Allah is almighty!” It is meritorious to give away the victim without eating any part of it, and thus crowds of poor pilgrims were enabled to regale themselves.
There is a terrible want of cleanliness in this sacrifice. Thousands of animals are cut up and left unburied in this “Devil’s Punchbowl.” I leave the rest to the imagination. Pilgrims usually pass in the Muna Valley the Days of Flesh Drying—namely, the 11th, the 12th, and the 13th of the month Zu’l Hijjah—and on the two former the Great, the Middle, and the Little Satan are again pelted. The standing miracles of the place are that beasts and birds cannot prey there, nor can flies settle upon provisions exposed in the markets. But animals are frightened away by the bustling crowds, and flies arefound in myriads. The revolting scene, aided by a steady temperature of 120° Fahr., has more than once caused a desolating pestilence at Meccah: the cholera of 1865 has been traced back to it; in fine, the safety of Europe demands the reformation of this filthy slaughter-house, which is still the same.
The pilgrimage rites over, we returned to Meccah for a short sojourn. Visitors are advised, and wisely, not to linger long in the Holy City after the conclusion of the ceremonies. Use soon spoils the marvels, and, after the greater excitements, all becomes flat, stale, and unprofitable. The rite called umrah, or the “little pilgrimage,” and the running between Mounts Safa and Marwah, in imitation of Hagar seeking her child, remain to be performed. And there are many spots of minor sanctity to be visited, such as the Jannal El Maala, or Cemetery of the Saints, the mosque where the genii paid fealty to the Prophet, the house where Mohammed was born, that in which he lived with his first wife, Khadijah, and in which his daughter Fatimah and his grandsons Hasan and Hussayn saw the light, the place where the stone gave the founder of El Islam God-speed, and about a dozen others. Men, however, either neglect them or visit them cursorily, and think of little now beyond returning home.
I must briefly sketch the Holy City before we bid it adieu.
Meccah, also called Beccah, the words being synonymous, signifies according to some a “placeof great concourse,” is built between 21° and 22° of N. Lat. and in 39° E. Long. (Greenwich).[5]It is therefore more decidedly tropical than El Medinah, and the parallel corresponds with that of Cuba. The origin of the Bayt Ullah is lost in the glooms of time, but Meccah as it now stands is a comparatively modern place, built inA.D.450 by Kusayr the Kuraysh. It is a city colligated together like Jerusalem and Rome. The site is a winding valley in the midst of many little hills; the effect is that it offers no generalcoup d’œil. Thus the views of Meccah known to Europe are not more like Meccah than like Cairo or Bombay.
The utmost length of the Holy City is two miles and a half from the Mab’dah, or northern suburb, to the southern mound called Jiyad. The extreme breadth may be three-quarters between the Abu Kubays hill on the east and the Kaykaan, or Kuwaykaan, eminence on the west. The mass ofhouses clusters at the western base of Abu Kubays. The mounts called Safa and Marwah extend from Abu Kubays to Kayhaan, and are about seven hundred and eighty cubits apart. The great temple is near the centre of the city, as the Kaabah is near the middle of the temple. Upon Jebel Jiyad the Greater there is a fort held by Turkish soldiery; it seems to have no great strength. In olden time Meccah had walls and gates; now there are none.
The ground in and about the Holy City is sandy and barren, the hills are rocky and desert. Meat, fruits, and vegetables must be importedviâJeddah, the port, distant about forty-five miles. The climate is exceedingly hot and rarely tempered by the sea breeze. I never suffered so much from temperature as during my fortnight at Meccah.
The capital of the Hejaz, which is about double the size of El Medinah, has all the conveniences of a city. The streets are narrow, deep, and well watered. The houses are durable and well built of brick mixed with granite and sandstone, quarried in the neighbouring hills. Some of them are five stories high, and more like fortresses than dwelling-places. The lime, however, is bad, and after heavy rain, sometimes ten days in the year, those of inferior structure fall in ruins. None but the best have open-work of brick and courses of coloured stone. The roofs are made flat to serve for sleeping-places, the interiors are sombre to keep out the heat; they have jutting upper stories, as in the old town of Brazil, and huge latticedhanging balconies—the maswrabujah of Cairo, here called the shamiyah—project picturesquely into the streets and the small squares in which the city abounds.
The population is guessed at forty-five thousand souls. The citizens appeared to me more civilised and more vicious than those of El Medinah, and their habit of travel makes them a worldly-wise and God-forgetting and Mammonist sort of folk. “Circumambulate and run between Mounts Safa and Marwah and do the seven deadly sins,” is a satire popularly levelled against them. Their redeeming qualities are courage,bonhomie, manners at once manly and suave, a fiery sense of honour, strong family affections, and a near approach to what we call patriotism. The dark half of the picture is pride, bigotry, irreligion, greed of gain, debauchery, and prodigal ostentation.
Unlike his brother of El Medinah, the Meccan is a swarthy man. He is recognised throughout the east by three parallel gashes down each cheek, from the exterior angles of the eyes to the corners of the mouth. These mashali, as they call them, are clean contrary to the commands of El Islam. The people excuse the practice by saying that it preserves their children from being kidnapped, and it is performed the fortieth day after birth.
The last pilgrimage ceremony performed at Meccah is the Tawaf el Widaaf, or circumambulation of farewell, a solemn occasion. The devotee walks round the House of Allah, he drinks the water ofthe Zemzem well, he kisses the threshold of the door, and he stands for some time with his face and bosom pressed against the multazem wall, clinging to the curtain, reciting religious formulas, blessing the Prophet, weeping if possible, but at least groaning. He then leaves the temple, backing out of it with many salutations till he reaches the Gate of Farewell, when, with a parting glance at the Kaabah, he turns his face towards home.
I will not dwell upon my return journey—how, accompanied by the boy Mohammed, I reached Jeddah on the Red Sea, how my countrymen refused for a time to believe me, and how I sadly parted with my Moslem friends. My wanderings ended for a time, and, worn out with fatigue and with the fatal fiery heat, I steamed out of Jeddah on September 26th in the littleDwarka, and on October 3rd, 1853, after six months’ absence from England, I found myself safely anchored in Suez Harbour.
[5]Both latitude and longitude are disputed points, as the following table shows. The Arabs, it must be remembered, placed the first meridian at the Fortunate Islands:
Humbodlt, therefore, is hardly right to say:“L’erreur est que le Mecque paraissait déjà aux Arabes de 19° trop a l’est” (“Correspondence,”p.459).