ON the morning of Sunday, the twenty-third Zu’l Ka’adah (28th August, 1853), arrived from Al-Sham, or Damascus,1 the great Caravan popularly called Hajj al-Shami, the “Damascus pilgrimage,” as the Egyptian Cafila is Al-Misri,2 or the Cairo pilgrimage. It is the main stream which carries off all the small currents that, at this season of general movement, flow from Central Asia towards the great centre of the Islamitic world, and in 1853 it amounted to about seven thousand souls. The arrival was anxiously expected by the people for several reasons. In the first place, it brought with it a new curtain for the Prophet’s Hujrah, the old one being in a tattered condition; secondly, it had charge of the annual stipends and pensions of the citizens; and thirdly, many families expected members returning under its escort to their homes. The popular anxiety was greatly increased by the disordered state of the country round about; and, moreover, the great caravan had been one day late, generally arriving on the morning of the twenty-second Zu’l Ka’adah.3

During the night three of Shaykh Hamid’s brothers, who had entered as Muzawwirs with the Hajj, came suddenly to the house: they leaped off their camels, and lost not a moment in going through the usual scene of kissing, embracing, and weeping bitterly for joy. I arose in the morning, and looked out from the windows of the Majlis. The Barr al-Manakhah, from a dusty waste dotted with a few Badawi hair-tents, had assumed all the various shapes and the colours of a kaleidoscope. The eye was bewildered by the shifting of innumerable details, in all parts totally different from one another, thrown confusedly together in one small field; and, however jaded with sight-seeing, it dwelt with delight upon the variety, the vivacity, and the intense picturesqueness of the scene. In one night had sprung up a town of tents of every size, colour, and shape; round, square, and oblong; open and closed, — from the shawl-lined and gilt-topped pavilion of the Pasha, with all the luxurious appurtenances of the Harim, to its neighbour the little dirty green “rowtie” of the tobacco-seller. They were pitched in admirable order: here ranged in a long line, where a street was required; there packed in dense masses, where thoroughfares were unnecessary. But how describe the utter confusion in the crowding, the bustling, and the vast variety and volume of sound? Huge white Syrian dromedaries, compared with which those of Al-Hijaz appeared mere pony-camels, jingling large bells, and bearing Shugdufs4 (litters) like miniature green tents, swaying and tossing upon their backs; gorgeous Takht-rawan, or litters carried between camels or mules with scarlet and brass trappings; Badawin bestriding naked-backed “Daluls5” (dromedaries), and clinging like apes to the hairy humps; Arnaut, Kurd, and Turkish Irregular Cavalry, fiercer looking in their mirth than Roman peasants in their rage; fainting Persian pilgrims, forcing their stubborn camels to kneel, or dismounted grumbling from jaded donkeys; Kahwajis, sherbet sellers, and ambulant tobacconists crying their goods; country-people driving flocks of sheep and goats with infinite clamour through lines of horses fiercely snorting and biting and kicking and rearing; townspeople seeking their friends; returned travellers exchanging affectionate salutes; devout Hajis jostling one another, running under the legs of camels, and tumbling over the tents’ ropes in their hurry to reach the Harim; cannon roaring from the citadel; shopmen, water-carriers, and fruit vendors fighting over their bargains; boys with loud screams bullying heretics; a well-mounted party of fine old Arab Shaykhs of the Hamidah clan, preceded by their varlets, performing the Arzah or war dance, — compared with which the Pyrenean bear’s performance is grace itself, — firing their duck-guns upwards, or blowing the powder into the calves of those before them, brandishing their swords, leaping frantically the while, with their bright coloured rags floating in the wind, tossing their long spears tufted with ostrich feathers high in the air, reckless where they fall; servants seeking their masters, and masters their tents, with vain cries of Ya Mohammed6; grandees riding mules or stalking on foot, preceded by their crowd-beaters, shouting to clear the way; here the loud shrieks of women and children, whose litters are bumping and rasping against one another; there the low moaning of some poor wretch that is seeking a shady corner to die in: add a thick dust which blurs the outlines like a London fog, with a flaming sun that draws sparkles of fire from the burnished weapons of the crowd, and the brass balls of tent and litter; and-I doubt, gentle reader, that even the length, the jar, and the confusion of this description is adequate to its subject, or that any “word-painting” of mine can convey a just idea of the scene.

This was the day appointed for our visiting the martyrs of Ohod. After praying the dawn prayers as directed at the Harim, we mounted our donkeys; and, armed with pistols and knives, we set out from the city. Our party was large. Sa’ad the Demon had offered to accompany us, and the bustle around kept him in the best of humours; Omar Effendi was also there, quiet-looking and humble as usual, leading his ass to avoid the trouble of dismounting every second minute.7 I had the boy Mohammed and my “slave,” and Shaykh Hamid was attended by half a dozen relations. To avoid the crush of the Barr al-Manakhah, we made a detour Westwards, over the bridge and down the course of the torrent-bed “Al-Sayh.” We then passed along the Southern wall of the castle, traversed its Eastern outwork, and issued from the Bab al-Shami. During the greater part of the time we were struggling through a living tide; and among dromedaries and chargers a donkey is by no means a pleasant monture. With some difficulty, but without any more serious accident than a fall or two, we found ourselves in the space beyond and northward of the city. This also was covered with travellers and tents, amongst which on an eminence to the left of the road, rose conspicuous the bright green pavilion of the Emir Al-Hajj, the commandant of the Caravan.8 Hard by, half its height surrounded by a Kanat or tent wall, stood the Syrian or Sultan’s Mahmil (litter), all glittering with green and gilding and gold, and around it were pitched the handsome habitations of the principal officers and grandees of the pilgrimage. On the right hand lay extensive palm plantations, and on the left, strewed over the plain, were signs of wells and tanks, built to supply the Hajj with water. We pass two small buildings, one the Kubbat Al-Sabak, or Dome of Precedence, where the Prophet’s warrior friends used to display their horsemanship; the second the Makan, or burial-place of Sayyidna Zaki al-Din, one of Mohammed’s multitudinous descendants. Then we fall into a plain, resembling that of Kuba, but less fertile. While we are jogging over it, a few words concerning Mount Ohod may not be misplaced. A popular distich says,

“Verily there is healing to the eye that looks

Unto Ohod and the two Harrahs9 (ridges) near.”

And of this holy hill the Apostle declared, “Ohod is a Mountain which loves Us and which We love: it is upon the Gate of Heaven10;” adding, “And Ayr11 is a Place which hates Us and which We hate: it is upon the Gate of Hell.” The former sheltered Mohammed in the time of danger; therefore, on Resurrection Day it will be raised to Paradise: whereas Jabal Ayr, its neighbour, having been so ill-judged as to refuse the Prophet water on an occasion while he thirsted, will be cast incontinently into Jahannam. Moslem divines, be it observed, ascribe to Mohammed miraculous authority over animals, vegetables, and minerals, as well as over men, angels, and jinnis. Hence the speaking wolf, the weeping post, the oil-stone, and the love and hate of these two mountains. It is probably one of the many remains of ancient paganism pulled down and afterwards used to build up the edifice of Al-Islam. According to the old Persians, the sphere has an active soul. Some sects of Hindus believe “mother earth,” upon whose bosom we little parasites crawl, to be a living being. This was a dogma also amongst the ancient Egyptians, who denoted it by a peculiar symbol, — the globe with human legs. Hence the “Makrokosmos” of the plagiaristic Greeks, the animal on a large scale, whose diminutive was the “Mikrokosmos” — man. Tota natura, repeats Malpighi, existit in minimis. Amongst the Romans, Tellus or Terra was a female deity, anthropomorphised according to their syncretic system, which furnished with strange gods their Pantheon, but forgot to append the scroll explaining the inner sense of the symbol. And some modern philosophers, Kepler, Blackmore, and others, have not scrupled to own their belief in a doctrine which as long as “Life” is a mere word on man’s tongue, can neither be proved nor disproved. The Mohammedans, as usual, exaggerate the dogma, — a Hadis related by Abu Hurayrah casts on the day of judgment the sun and the moon into hell fire.

Jabal Ohod owes its present reputation to a cave which sheltered the Apostle when pursued by his enemies12; to certain springs of which he drank,13 and especially to its being the scene of a battle celebrated in Al-Islam. On Saturday, the 11th Shawwal, in the third year of the Hijrah (26th January, A.D. 625), Mohammed with seven hundred men engaged three thousand Infidels under the command of Abu Sufiyan; ran great personal danger, and lost his uncle Hamzah, the “Lord of Martyrs.” On the topmost pinnacle, also, is the Kubbat Harun, the dome erected over Aaron’s remains. It is now, I was told, in a ruinous condition, and is placed upon the “pinnacle of seven hills14” in a position somewhat like that of certain buildings on St. Angelo in the Bay of Naples. Alluding to the toil of reaching it, the Madani quote a facetious rhyme inscribed upon the wall by one of their number who had wasted his breath:—

“Malun ibn Malun

Man tala’a Kubbat Harun!”

Anglice, “The man must be a ruffian who climbs up to Aaron’s dome.” Devout Moslems visit Ohod every Thursday morning after the dawn devotions in the Harim; pray for the Martyrs; and, after going through the ceremonies, return to the Harim in time for mid-day worship. On the 12th of Rajab, Zairs come out in large bodies from the city, encamp on the plain for three or four days, and pass the time in feasting, jollity, and devotion, as is usual at pilgrimages and at saints’ festivals in general.

After half an hour’s ride we came to the Mustarah or resting-place, so called because the Prophet sat here for a few minutes on his way to the battle of Ohod. It is a newly-built square enclosure of dwarf whitewashed walls, within which devotees pray. On the outside fronting Al-Madinah is a seat like a chair of rough stones. Here I was placed by my Muzawwir, who recited an insignificant supplication to be repeated after him. At its end with the Fatihah and accompaniments, we remounted our asses and resumed our way. Travelling onwards, we came in sight of the second Harrah or ridge. It lies to the right and left of the road, and resembles lines of lava, but I had not an opportunity to examine it narrowly.15 Then we reached the gardens of Ohod, which reflect in miniature those of Kuba; and presently we arrived at what explained the presence of verdure and vegetable life, — a deep Fiumara full of loose sand and large stones denoting an impetuous stream. It flows along the Southern base of Ohod, said to be part of the plain of Al-Madinah, and it collects the drainage of the high lands lying to the South and South-east. The bed becomes impassable after rain, and sometimes the torrents overflow the neighbouring gardens. By the direction of this Fiumara I judged that it must supply the Ghabbah or “basin” in the hills north of the plain. Good authorities, however, informed me that a large volume of water will not stand there, but flows down the beds that wind through the Ghats westward of Al-Madinah, and falls into the sea near the harbour of Wijh. To the south of the Fiumara is a village on an eminence, containing some large brick houses now in a ruinous state; these are the villas of opulent and religious citizens who visited the place for change of air, recreation, and worship at Hamzah’s tomb. Our donkeys presently sank fetlock-deep in the loose sand of the torrent-bed. Then reaching the Northern side, and ascending a gentle slope, we found ourselves upon the battle-field.

This spot, so celebrated in the annals of Al-Islam, is a shelving strip of land, close to the Southern base of Mount Ohod. The army of the Infidels advanced from the Fiumara in crescent shape, with Abu Sufiyan, the general, and his idols in the centre. It is distant about three miles from Al-Madinah, in a Northerly direction.16 All the visitor sees is hard gravelly ground, covered with little heaps of various coloured granite, red sandstone, and bits of porphyry, to denote the different places where the martyrs fell, and were buried.17 Seen from this point, there is something appalling in the look of the Holy Mountain. Its seared and jagged flanks rise like masses of iron from the plain, and the crevice into which the Moslem host retired, when the disobedience of the archers in hastening to plunder enabled Khalid bin Walid to fall upon Mohammed’s rear, is the only break in the grim wall. Reeking with heat, its surface produces not one green shrub or stunted tree; neither bird nor beast appeared upon its inhospitable sides, and the bright blue sky glaring above its bald and sullen brow, made it look only the more repulsive. I was glad to turn away my eyes from it.

To the left of the road North of the Fiumara, and leading to the mountains, stands Hamzah’s Mosque, which, like the Harim of Al-Madinah, is a Mausoleum as well as a fane. It is a small strongly built square of hewn stone, with a dome covering the solitary hypostyle to the South, and the usual minaret. The Westward wing is a Zawiyah or oratory,18 frequented by the celebrated Sufi and Saint, Mohammed al-Samman, the “Clarified Butter-Seller,” one of whose blood, the reader will remember, stood by my side in the person of Shaykh Hamid. On the Eastern side of the building a half wing projects; and a small door opens to the South, ............