Behind This Was A Dark And Unclean
Store-Room (C) Containing The Hajis’ Baggage.
Opposite the Mastabah was a
firepan for pipes and coffee (D), superintended by a family of lean
Indians; and by the side (E) a doorless passage led to a bathing-room
(F) and staircase (G).
I had scarcely composed myself upon the carpeted Mastabah, when the
remainder was suddenly invaded by the Turkish, or rather Slavo-Turk,
pilgrims inhabiting the house, and a host of their visitors. They were
large, hairy men, with gruff voices and square figures; they did not
take the least notice of me, although[,] feeling the intrusion, I
stretched out my legs with a provoking nonchalance.[FN#14] At last one
of them addressed me in Turkish, to which I
[p.172] replied by shaking my head. His question being interpreted to
me in Arabic, I drawled out, “My native place is the land of Khorasan.”
This provoked a stern and stony stare from the Turks, and an “ugh!” which
said plainly enough, “Then you are a pestilent heretic.” I surveyed them
with a self-satisfied simper, stretched my legs a trifle farther, and
conversed with my water-pipe. Presently, when they all departed for a
time, the boy Mohammed raised, by request, my green box of medicines,
and deposited it upon the Mastabah; thus defining, as it were, a line
of demarcation, and asserting my privilege to it before the Turks. Most
of these men were of one party, headed by a colonel of Nizam, whom they
called a Bey. My acquaintance with them began roughly enough, but
afterwards, with some exceptions, who were gruff as an English butcher
when accosted by a lean foreigner, they proved to be kind-hearted and
not unsociable men. It often happens to the traveller, as the charming
Mrs. Malaprop observes, to find intercourse all the better by beginning
with a little aversion.
In the evening, accompanied by the boy Mohammed, and followed by Shaykh
Nur, who carried a lantern and a praying-rug, I again repaired to the
“Navel of the World[FN#15]; this time aesthetically, to enjoy the
delights of the hour after the “gaudy, babbling, and remorseful day.” The
moon, now approaching the full, tipped the brow of Abu Kubays, and lit
up the spectacle with a more solemn light. In the midst stood the huge
bier-like erection,—
“Black as the wings
Which some spirit of ill o’er a sepulchre flings,”—
[p.173] except where the moonbeams streaked it like jets of silver
falling upon the darkest marble. It formed the point of rest for the
eye; the little pagoda-like buildings and domes around it, with all
their gilding and fretwork, vanished. One object, unique in appearance,
stood in view—the temple of the one Allah, the God of Abraham, of
Ishmael, and of their posterity. Sublime it was, and expressing by all
the eloquence of fancy the grandeur of the One Idea which vitalised
Al-Islam, and the strength and steadfastness of its votaries.
The oval pavement round the Ka’abah was crowded with men, women, and
children, mostly divided into parties, which followed a Mutawwif; some
walking staidly, and others running, whilst many stood in groups to
prayer. What a scene of contrasts! Here stalked the Badawi woman, in
her long black robe like a nun’s serge, and poppy-coloured face-veil,
pierced to show two fiercely flashing orbs. There an Indian woman, with
her semi-Tartar features, nakedly hideous, and her thin legs, encased
in wrinkled tights, hurried round the fane. Every now and then a
corpse, borne upon its wooden shell, circuited the shrine by means of
four bearers, whom other Moslems, as is the custom, occasionally
relieved. A few fair-skinned Turks lounged about, looking cold and
repulsive, as their wont is. In one place a fast Calcutta Khitmugar
stood, with turband awry and arms akimbo, contemplating the view
jauntily, as those “gentlemen’s gentlemen” will do. In another, some poor
wretch, with arms thrown on high, so that every part of his person
might touch the Ka’abah, was clinging to the curtain and sobbing as
though his heart would break.
From this spectacle my eyes turned towards Abu Kubays. The city extends
in that direction half-way up the grim hill: the site might be
compared, at a humble distance, to Bath. Some writers liken it to
Florence; but conceive a Florence without beauty! To the South
[p.174] lay Jabal Jiyad the Greater,[FN#16] also partly built over and
crowned with a fort, which at a distance looks less useful than
romantic[FN#17]: a flood of pale light was sparkling upon its stony
surface. Below, the minarets became pillars of silver, and the
cloisters, dimly streaked by oil lamps, bounded the views of the temple
with horizontal lines of shade.
Before nightfall the boy Mohammed rose to feed the Mosque pigeons, for
whom he had brought a pocketful of barley. He went to the place where
these birds flock—the line of pavement leading from the isolated arch to
the Eastern cloisters. During the day women and children are to be seen
sitting here, with small piles of grain upon little plaited trays of
basket-work. For each they demand a copper piece; and religious
pilgrims consider it their duty to provide the reverend blue-rocks with
a plentiful meal.
The Hindu Pandits assert that Shiwa and his spouse, under the forms and
names of Kapot-Eshwara (pigeon god) and Kapotesi, dwelt at Meccah. The
dove was the device of the old Assyrian Empire, because it is supposed
Semiramis was preserved by that bird. The Meccan pigeons, resembling
those of Venice, are held sacred probably in consequence of the wild
traditions of the Arabs about Noah’s dove. Some authors declare that in
Mohammed’s time, among the idols of the Meccan Pantheon, was a pigeon
carved in wood, and above it another, which Ali, mounting upon the
Prophet’s shoulder, pulled down.
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