While a part
of the women were engaged in smoking and drinking coffee, I slipped
away, and went into some of the adjoining apartments, where I saw
enough, in a few minutes, to fill me with disgust and commiseration
for these poor creatures; from slothfulness and the want of
education, morality appeared to be so degraded as to profane the
very name of humanity.
I was not less grieved by a visit to a public female bath. There
were young children, girls, women, and mothers; some having their
hands, feet, nails, eyebrows, hair, etc., washed and coloured:
others were being bathed with water, or rubbed with fragrant oils
and pomades, while the children played about among them. While all
this was going on, the conversation that prevailed was far from
being remarkable for its decency. Poor children! how are they to
acquire a respect for modesty, when they are so early exposed to the
influence of such pernicious examples.
Among the other curiosities of Baghdad, I saw the funeral monument
of Queen Zobiede, the favourite wife of Haroun-al-Raschid. It is
interesting, because it differs very much from the ordinary
monuments of the Mahomedans. Instead of handsome cupolas and
minarets, it consists of a moderate sized tower, rising from an
octagon building; the tower has a considerable resemblance to those
of the Hindoo temples. In the interior stand three plainly built
tombs, in one of which the queen is buried; in the other two,
relations of the royal family. The whole is constructed of bricks,
and was formerly covered with handsome cement, coloured tiles, and
arabesques, of which traces still remain.
Mahomedans consider all such monuments sacred; they frequently come
from great distances to offer up their devotions before them. They
think it equally desirable to erect a burial-place near such a
monument, which they show with pride to their friends and relations.
Round this monument there were large spaces covered with tombs.
On the return from this monument, I went a little out of my way to
see that part of the town which had fallen into ruins, and been
desolated by the last plague. Herr Swoboda, an Hungarian, gave me a
dreadful picture of the state of the town at that time. He had shut
himself closely up with his family and a maid servant, and being
well furnished with provisions, received nothing from outside but
fresh water. He carefully plastered up the doors and windows, and
no one was allowed to go out upon the terraces, or, indeed, into the
air at all.
These precautions were the means of preserving his whole family in
health, while many died in the neighbouring houses. It was
impossible to bury all the dead, and the bodies were left to
decompose where they died. After the plague had ceased, the Arabs
of the desert made their appearance for the purpose of robbing and
plundering.
