A Pilgrimage to Nejd, the Cradle of the Arab Race. Vol. 1 [of 2]

We found a double house provided for us in the main street of Haïl, and not two hundred yards from the kasr – a house without pretence, but sufficient for our wants, and secure from all intruders, for the street door could be locked, and the walls were high. It consisted of two separate houses, as I believe most dwellings in Arabia do, one for men and the other for women. In the former there was a kahwah and a couple of smaller rooms, and this we gave over to Mohammed and the servants, keeping the harim for ourselves. This last had a small open court, just large enough for the three mares to stand in, an open vestibule of the sort they call liwan at Damascus, and two little dens. In one of these dens we stored our luggage, and in the other, spread our beds. The doors of these inner rooms could be locked up when we went out, with curious wooden locks and wooden keys; the doors were of ithel wood. All was exceedingly simple, but in decent repair and clean, the only ornaments being certain patterns, scratched out in white from the brown wash which covered the walls. Here we soon made ourselves comfortable, and were not sorry to rest at last, after our long journey.

Our rest, however, was not to come yet. It was only one o’clock when we arrived at our house, and before two, the Emir sent for us again. This time the reception was a private one in the upper rooms of the kasr, and we found the Emir alone with Hamúd. He received us with even more cordiality than before, and with less ceremony. We had brought presents with us, the duty of displaying which we left to Mohammed, who expatiated on their value and nature with all the art of a bazaar merchant. As for us, we were a little ashamed of their insignificance, for we had had no conception of Ibn Rashid’s true position when we left Damascus, and the scarlet cloth jibbeh we had considered the ne plus ultra of splendour for him, looked shabby among the gorgeous dresses worn at Haïl. We had added to the cloak and other clothes, which are the usual gifts of ceremony, a revolver in a handsome embroidered case, a good telescope, and a Winchester rifle, any one of which would have made Jedaan or Ibn Shaalan open his eyes with pleasure; but Ibn Rashid, though far too well-bred not to admire and approve, cared evidently little for these things, having seen them all before. Even the rifle was no novelty, for he had an exactly similar one in his armoury. Poor Mohammed, however, went on quite naïvely with his descriptions, while the Emir looked out of window through the telescope, pretending to be examining the wall opposite, for there was no view. Hamúd, his cousin, whose acquaintance we now made, is more sympathique than the Emir, though they are ridiculously like each other in face, but Hamúd has the advantage of a good conscience, and has no vengeance to fear. They were dressed also alike, so that it was difficult at first to know them apart; perhaps there is a motive in this, as with the Richmonds of Shakespeare. The Emir’s room was on the same plan as the kahwah, but smaller, and boasting only two columns, the coffee place in the right-hand corner as you enter, and the Emir’s fireplace, with a fire burning in it, on an iron plate in front. Persian carpets were spread, and there were plenty of cushions to lean against by the wall. We were invited to sit down to the left of the Emir and Hamúd, who never seems to leave his side. Mohammed had a place on the right, between them and the door. Coffee, and a very sweet tea, were handed round in thimblefuls, and a good deal of conversation ensued. We had brought a letter from our old friend the Nawab Ikbal ed-Dowlah, who had been at Haïl about forty years ago, in the time of Abdallah ibn Rashid.18 The Emir remembered his coming, though he must have been a child at the time, and said some pretty things in compliment of him. He then asked Mohammed about his Arûk relations in Jôf, and said that they had always been faithful to him. They had taken the Emir’s part, it would seem, in some revolt which took place there a few years ago. There was also an Ibn Arûk in Harík, a Bedouin sheykh, who the Emir said was a friend of his; at least, he was on bad terms with Ibn Saoud and the Wahhabis, and this is a title to favour at Haïl. Ibn Rashid is very jealous of Ibn Saoud, and now that the Wahhabi empire is broken up, fosters any discontent there may be in Aared. I believe many of the Bedouin sheykhs of Upper Nejd have come over to him. Mohammed, thus encouraged, launched out into his favourite tales, and repeated the Ibn Arûk legend, which, I confess, I am beginning to get a little tired of, and then went on to describe the wonders of Tudmur, of which he now implied, without exactly stating it in words, that he was actual Sheykh. The house he lived in at home, he said, had columns of marble, each sixty feet in height, and had been built originally by Suliman ibn Daoud. There were two hundred of these columns in and around it, and the walls were twenty feet thick. The Emir, who seemed rather perplexed by this, appealed to us for confirmation, and we told him that all this really existed at Tudmur; indeed, there was no gainsaying the fact that Mohammed’s father’s house had some of the objects named on the premises, though the house itself is but a little square box of mud. The city wall, in fact, makes one side of the stable, and a column or two have been worked into the modern building; but this we did not think it necessary to explain. Mohammed’s reputation rose in consequence, and I already began to fear that the Emir’s civilities had turned his head. I heard him whisper to Hamúd that the silver-hilted sword he is wearing, and which is the one Wilfrid gave him at Damascus, was an ancestral relic; it had been, he said, “min zeman,” from time immemorial, in the Arûk family. He had also established a fiction, in which he privately entreated us to join, that we started from home with a hawk (for all the best falcons come from Tudmur), and lost it on the journey.19

While we were discussing these important matters, the call to prayer was heard, and the two Ibn Rashids, begging us to remain seated, rose and went out.

They were absent a few minutes, and on their return the Emir, to our great delight, proposed to show us his gardens, and immediately led the way down tortuous passages and through courts and doors into a palm grove surrounded by a high wall. Here we were joined by numerous slaves, some black, some white, for there are both sorts at Haïl. A number of gazelles were running about, and came up quite familiarly as we entered. These were of two varieties, one browner than the other, answering, I believe, to what are called the “gazelle des bois,” and the “gazelle des plaines,” in Algeria. There were also a couple of ibexes with immense heads, tame like the gazelles, and allowing themselves to be stroked. The gazelles seemed especially at home, and we were told that they breed here in captivity. The most interesting, however, of all the animals in this garden were three of the wild cows (bakar wahhash), from the Nefûd, which we had so much wished to see. They proved to be, as we had supposed, a kind of antelope,20 though their likeness to cows was quite close enough to account for their name. They stood about as high as an Alderney calf six months old, and had humps on their shoulders like the Indian cattle. In colour they were a yellowish white, with reddish legs turning to black towards the feet. The face was parti-coloured, and the horns, which were black, were quite straight and slanted backwards, and fully three feet long, with spiral markings. These wild cows were less tame than the rest of the animals, and the slaves were rather afraid of them, for they seemed ready to use their horns, which were as sharp as needles. The animals, though fat, evidently suffered from confinement, for all were lame, one with an enlarged knee, and the rest with overgrown hoofs. When we had seen and admired the menagerie, and fed the antelopes with dates, we went on through a low door, which we had almost to creep through, into another garden, where there were lemon trees (treng), bitter oranges (hámud), and pomegranates (roman). The Emir, who was very polite and attentive to me, had some of the fruit picked and gave me a bunch of a kind of thyme, the only flower growing there. We saw some camels at work drawing water from a large well, a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet deep, to judge by the rope. The Emir then crept through another low door and we after him, and then to our great satisfaction we found ourselves in a stable-yard full of mares, tethered in rows each to a manger. I was almost too excited to look, for it was principally to see these that we had come so far.

This yard contained about twenty mares, and beyond it was another with a nearly equal number. Then there was a third with eight horses, tethered in like manner; and beyond it again a fourth with thirty or forty foals. I will not now describe all we saw, for the Emir’s stud will require a chapter to itself. Suffice it to say, that Wilfrid’s first impression and mine were alike. The animals we saw before us were not comparable for beauty of form or for quality with the best we had seen among the Gomussa. The Emir, however, gave us little time for reflection, for with a magnificent wave of his hand, and explaining with mock humility, “The horses of my slaves,” he dragged us on from one yard to another, allowing us barely time to ask a few questions as to breed, for the answers to which he referred us to Hamúd. We had seen enough, however, to make us very happy, and Hamúd had promised that we should see them again. There was no doubt whatever that, in spite of the Emir’s disclaimer, these were Ibn Rashid’s celebrated mares, the representatives of that stud of Feysul ibn Saoud, about which such a romance had been made.

An equally interesting spectacle, the Emir thought for us, was his kitchen, to which he now showed the way. Here, with unconcealed pride, he displayed his pots and pans, especially seven monstrous cauldrons, capable each, he declared, of boiling three whole camels. Several of them were actually at work, for Ibn Rashid entertains nearly two hundred guests daily, besides his own household. Forty sheep or seven camels are his daily bill of fare. As we came out, we found the hungry multitude already assembling. Every stranger in Haïl has his place at Ibn Rashid’s table, and towards sunset the courtyard begins to fill. The Emir does not himself preside at these feasts. He always dines alone, or in his harim; but the slaves and attendants are extraordinarily well-drilled, and behave with perfect civility to all comers, rich and poor alike. Our own dinner was brought to us at our house. Thus ended our first day at Haïl, a day of wonderful interest, but not a little fatiguing. “Ya akhi,” (oh my brother), said Mohammed ibn Arûk to Wilfrid that evening, as they sat smoking and drinking their coffee, “did I not promise you that you should see Nejd, and Ibn Rashid, and the mares of Haïl, and have you not seen them?” We both thanked him, and, indeed, we both felt very grateful. Not that the favours were all on one side; for brotherly offices had been very evenly balanced, and Mohammed had been quite as eager to make this journey as we had. But, alas! our pleasant intercourse with Mohammed was very near its end.

The next few days of our life at Haïl may be briefly described. Wilfrid and Mohammed went every morning to the mejlis, and then paid visits, sometimes to Hamúd, sometimes to Mubarek, sometimes to the Emir. A slave brought us our breakfast daily from the kasr, and a soldier came to escort us through the streets. Mohammed had now made acquaintances of his own, and was generally out all day long. I stayed very much in doors, and avoided passing through the streets, except when invited to come to the castle, for we had agreed that discretion was the better part of valour with us. That there was some reason for this prudence I think probable, for though we never experienced anything but politeness from the Haïl people, we heard afterwards that some among them were not best pleased at the reception given us by the Emir. Europeans had never before been seen in Nejd; and it is possible that a fanatical feeling might have arisen if we had done anything to excite it. Wahhabism is on the decline, but not yet extinct at Haïl; and the Wahhabis would of course have been our enemies. In the Emir’s house, or even under charge of one of his officers, we were perfectly safe, but wandering about alone would have been rash. The object, too, would have been insufficient, for away from the Court there is little to see at Haïl.

With Hamúd and his family we made great friends. He was a man who at once inspired confidence, and we had no cause to regret having acted on our first impression of his character. He has always, they say, refused to take presents from the Emir; and has never approved of his conduct, though he has sided with him politically, and serves him faithfully as a brother. His manners are certainly as distinguished as can be found anywhere in the world, and he is besides intelligent and well informed. The Emir is different; with him there was always a certain gêne. It was impossible to forget the horrible story of his usurpation; and there was something, too, about him which made it impossible to feel quite at ease in his presence. Though he knows how to behave with dignity, he does not always do so. It is difficult to reconcile his almost childish manner, at times, with the ability he has given proofs of. He has something of the spoiled child in his way of wandering on from one subject to another; and, like Jóhar, of asking questions which he does not always wait to hear answered, a piece of ill-manners not altogether unroyal, and so, perhaps, the effect of his condition as a sovereign prince. He is also very naïvely vain, as most people become who are fed constantly on flattery; and he is continually on the look-out for compliments about his power, and his wisdom, and his possessions. His jealousy of other great Sheykhs whom we have seen is often childishly displayed. Hamúd has none of this. I fancy he stands to his cousin Mohammed somewhat in the position in which Morny is supposed to have stood to Louis Napoleon, only that Morny was neither so good a man nor even so fine a gentleman as Hamúd. He gives the Emir advice, and in private speaks his mind, only appearing to the outer world as the obsequious follower of his prince. Hamúd has several sons, the eldest of whom, Majid, has all his father’s charm of manner, and has, besides, the attraction of perfectly candid youth, and a quite ideal beauty. He is about sixteen, and he and his brother and a young uncle came to see us the morning after our arrival, sent by their father to pay their compliments. He talked very much and openly about everything, and gave us a quantity of information about the various mares at the Emir’s stable, and about his father’s mares and his own. He then went on to tell us of an expedition he had made with the Emir to the neighbourhood of Queyt, and of how he had seen the sea. They had made a ghazú on the felláhín of the sea-coast, and had then returned. He asked me how I rode on horseback, and I showed him my side-saddle, which, however, did not surprise him. “It is a shedad,” he said; “you ride as one rides a delúl.” This young Majid, though he looks quite a boy, is married; and we were informed that here no one of good family puts off marriage after the age of sixteen. I made acquaintance with his wife Urgheyeh, who is very pretty, very small in stature, and very young; she is one of Metaab’s daughters, and her sister is married to Hamúd, so that father and son are brothers-in-law.

Mubarek, the Emir’s chief slave, was one of our particular acquaintances. He inhabits a very handsome house, as houses go in Haïl; and there Wilfrid paid him more than one visit. His house is curiously decorated with designs in plaster of birds and beasts – ostriches, antelopes, and camels. Though a slave, Mubarek has not in appearance the least trace of negro blood; and it is still a mystery to us how he happens to be one. He is a well-bred person, and has done everything in his power to make things pleasant for us.

On the second day after our arrival, after the usual compliments and some conversation, I asked the Emir’s permission to pay a visit to the harim. Mohammed ibn Rashid appeared gratified by my request, which he immediately granted, saying that he would send to the khawatin (ladies) to inform them, and desire them to prepare for my reception. He accordingly despatched a messenger, but we sat on talking for a long time before anything came of the message; I had grown quite tired of waiting, and was already wondering how soon we should be at liberty to return home, where I might write my journal in secret, when the servant re-appeared, and brought us word that Amusheh, the Emir’s chief wife, was ready to receive me. I fancy that ladies here seldom dress with any care unless they want to display their silks and jewels to some visitor; and on such special occasions their toilet is a most elaborate one, with kohl and fresh paint, and takes a long time. The Emir at once put me in charge of a black slave woman, who led the way to the harim. Hamúd’s wives as well as Mohammed’s live in the palace, but in separate dwellings. The kasr is almost a town in itself, and I and my black guide walked swiftly through so many alleys and courts, and turned so many corners to the right and to the left, that if I had been asked to find my way back unassisted, I certainly could not have done it. At last, however, after crossing a very large courtyard, we stopped at a small low door. This was open, and through it I could see a number of people sitting round a fire within, for it was the entrance to Amusheh’s kahwah. This room had two columns supporting the ceiling, like all other rooms I had seen in the palace, except the great kahwah, which has five. The fire-place, as usual, an oblong hole in the ground, was on the left as one entered, in the corner near the door; in it stood a brazier containing the fire, and between it and the wall handsome carpets had been spread. All the persons present rose to their feet as I arrived. Amusheh could easily be singled out from among the crowd, even before she advanced to do the honours. She possesses a certain distinction of appearance and manner which would be recognised anywhere, and completely eclipsed the rest of the company. But she, the daughter of Obeyd and sister of Hamúd, has every right to outshine friends, relatives, and fellow wives. Her face, though altogether less regularly shaped than her brother’s, is sufficiently good-looking, with a well-cut nose and mouth, and something singularly sparkling and brilliant. Hedusheh and Lulya, the two next wives, who were present, had gold brocade as rich as hers, and lips and cheeks smeared as red as hers with carmine, and eyes with borders kohled as black as hers, but lacked her charm. Amusheh is besides clever and amusing, and managed to keep up a continual flow of conversation, in which the other two hardly ventured to join. They sat looking pretty and agreeable, but were evidently kept in a subordinate position. Lulya shares with Amusheh, as the latter informed me, what they consider the great privilege of never leaving town, thus taking precedence of Hedusheh, on whom devolves the duty of following the Emir’s fortunes in the desert, where he always spends a part of the year in tents. The obligation of such foreign service is accounted derogatory, and accordingly objected to by these Haïl ladies. They have no idea of amusement, if I may judge from what they said to me, but a firm conviction that perfect happiness and dignity consist in sitting still.

This happiness Amusheh and I enjoyed for some time. We sat together on one carpet spread over a mattress, cushions being ranged along the wall behind us for us to lean against, and the fire in front scorching our faces while we talked. On my right sat Hedusheh; beyond her Lulya and the rest of the company, making a circle round the fireplace. Before long, Atwa, a pretty little girl, who was introduced to me as the fourth wife, came in and took her place beyond Lulya. She looked more like a future wife than one actually married, being very young; and indeed it presently appeared that she had merely been brought to be looked at and considered about, and that the Emir had decided to reject her as too childish and insignificant. 21 He was, in fact, casting about in his mind for some suitable alliance which should bring him political support, as well as an increase of domestic comfort. That these were the objects of his new matrimonial projects I soon learned from his own mouth, from the questions he asked me about the marriageable daughters of Bedouin Sheyks. What could, indeed, be more suitable for his purpose than some daughter of a great desert sheykh, whose family should be valuable allies in war, while she herself, the ideal fourth wife, unlike these ladies of the town, should be always ready to accompany her husband to the desert, and should indeed prefer the desert to the town?

Among other persons present were several oldish women, relatives, whose names and exact relationship have slipped my memory; also a few friends and a vast number of attendants and slaves, these last mostly black. They all squatted round the fire, each trying to get into the front rank, and to seize every opportunity of wedging in a remark, by way of joining in the conversation of their betters. None of these outsiders were otherwise than plainly dressed in the dark blue or black cotton or woollen stuffs, used by ordinary Bedouin women in this part of Arabia, often bordered with a very narrow red edge, like a cord or binding, which looks well. The rich clothes worn by Amusheh and her companion wives are somewhat difficult to describe, presenting as they did an appearance of splendid shapelessness. Each lady had a garment cut like an abba, but closed up the front, so that it must have been put on over the head; and as it was worn without any belt or fastening at the waist, it had the effect of a sack. These sacks or bags were of magnificent material, gold interwoven with silk, but neither convenient nor becoming, effectually hiding any grace of figure. Amusheh wore crimson and gold, and round her neck a mass of gold chains studded with turquoises and pearls. Her hair hung down in four long plaits, plastered smooth with some reddish stuff, and on the top of her head stuck a gold and turquoise ornament, like a small plate, about four inches in diameter. This was placed forward at the edge of the forehead, and fastened back with gold and pearl chains to another ornament resembling a lappet, also of gold and turquoise, hooked on behind the head, and having flaps which fell on each side of the head and neck, ending in long strings of pearls with bell-shaped gold and pearl tassels. The pearls were all irregularly shaped and unsorted as to size, the turquoises very unequal in shape, size, and quality, the coral generally in beads. The gold work was mostly good, some of it said to be from Persia, but the greater part of Haïl workmanship. I had nearly forgotten to mention the nose-ring, here much larger than I have seen it at Bagdad and elsewhere, measuring an inch and a half to two inches across. It consists of a thin circle of gold, with a knot of gold and turquoises attached by a chain to the cap or lappet before described. It is worn in the left nostril, but taken out and left dangling while the wearer eats and drinks. A most inconvenient ornament, I thought and said, and when removed it leaves an unsightly hole, badly pierced, in the nostril, and more uncomfortable-looking than the holes in European ears. But fashion rules the ladies at Haïl as in other places, and my new acquaintances only laughed at such criticisms. They find these trinkets useful toys, and amuse themselves while talking by continually pulling them out and putting them in again. The larger size of ring seemed besides to be a mark of high position, so that the diameter of the circle might be considered the measure of the owner’s rank, for the rings of all inferiors were kept within the inch.

Amusheh was very communicative, but told me so many new names, that I could not remember all the information she volunteered about the Ibn Rashid family and relationships. She remarked that neither she nor any of Mohammed’s wives had any children, a fact which I already knew, and not from Radi alone; for it is the talk of the town and tribe that this is a judgment for the Emir’s crimes. She spoke with great affection of her nephew Majid and of her brother Hamúd, and with veneration of her father Obeyd, but I cannot recollect that she told me anything new about any of them. She spoke too of Tellál, but of course made no mention of Bender. Indeed, anxious as I was for any information she might give, I knew too much of the family history and secrets to venture on asking many questions; besides, any show of curiosity might have made her suspect me of some unavowed motive. I therefore felt more at ease when the conversation wandered from dangerous topics to safe and trivial ones, such as the manners and customs of different countries. “Why do you not wear your hair like mine?” said she, holding out one of her long auburn plaits for me to admire; and I had to explain that such short locks as mine were not sufficient for the purpose. “Then why did I not dress in gold brocade?” “How unsuitable,” I replied, “would such beautiful stuffs be for the rough work of travelling, hunting, and riding in the desert.” When we talked of riding, Amusheh seemed for a moment doubtful whether to be completely satisfied about her own lot in life – she would like, she said, to see me on my mare; and I promised she should, if possible, be gratified; but the opportunity never occurred, and perhaps the supreme authority did not care that it should. Even she might become discontented. Thus conversing, time slipped away, and the midday call to prayer sounded. My hostess then begged me to excuse her, and added, “I wish to pray.” She and the rest then got up and went to say their prayers in the middle of the room. After this she returned and continued the conversation where we had left it off.