THE traveller has little work at the Holy City. With exceptions of Jabal Nur and Jabal Saur,1 all the places of pious visitation lie inside or close outside the city. It is well worth the while to ascend Abu Kubays; not so much to inspect the Makan al-Hajar and the Shakk al-Kamar,2 as to obtain an excellent bird’s-eye view of the Harim and the parts adjacent.3

The boy Mohammed had applied himself sedulously to commerce after his return home; and had actually been seen by Shaykh Nur sitting in a shop and selling small curiosities. With my plenary consent I was made over to Abdullah, his brother. On the morning of the 15th Zu’l Hijjah (19th Sept.) he hired two asses, and accompanied me as guide to the holy places.

Mounting our animals, we followed the road before described to the Jannat al-Ma’ala, the sacred cemetery of Meccah. A rough wall, with a poor gateway, encloses a patch of barren and grim-looking ground, at the foot of the chain which bounds the city’s western suburb, and below Al-Akabah, the gap through which Khalid bin Walid entered Meccah with the triumphant Prophet.4 Inside are a few ignoble, whitewashed domes: all are of modern construction, for here, as at Al-Bakia, further north, the Wahhabis indulged their levelling propensities.5 The rest of the ground shows some small enclosures belonging to particular houses — equivalent to our family vaults — and the ruins of humble tombs, lying in confusion, whilst a few parched aloes spring from between the bricks and stones.6

The cemetery is celebrated in local history: here the body of Abdullah bin Zubayr was exposed by order of Hajjaj bin Yusuf; and the number of saints buried in it has been so numerous, that even in the twelfth century many had fallen into oblivion. It is visited by the citizens on Fridays, and by women on Thursdays, to prevent that meeting of sexes which in the East is so detrimental to public decorum. I shall be sparing in my description of the Ma’ala ceremonies, as the prayers, prostrations, and supplications are almost identical with those performed at Al-Bakia.

After a long supplication, pronounced standing at the doorway, we entered, and sauntered about the burial-ground. On the left of the road stood an enclosure, which, according to Abdullah, belonged to his family. The door and stone slabs, being valuable to the poor, had been removed, and the graves of his forefathers appeared to have been invaded by the jackal. He sighed, recited a Fatihah with tears in his eyes, and hurried me away from the spot.

The first dome which we visited covered the remains of Abd al-Rahman, the son of Abu Bakr, one of the Worthies of Al-Islam, equally respected by Sunni and by Shi’ah. The tomb was a simple catafalque, spread with the usual cloth. After performing our devotions at this grave, and distributing a few piastres to guardians and beggars, we crossed the main path, and found ourselves at the door of the cupola, beneath which sleeps the venerable Khadijah, Mohammed’s first wife. The tomb was covered with a green cloth, and the walls of the little building were decorated with written specimens of religious poetry. A little beyond it, we were shown into another dome, the resting-place of Sitt Aminah, the Prophet’s mother.7 Burckhardt chronicles its ill-usage by the fanatic Wahhabis: it has now been rebuilt in that frugal style that characterizes the architecture of Al-Hijaz. An exceedingly garrulous old woman came to the door, invited us in, and superintended our devotions; at the end of which she sprinkled rosewater upon my face. When asked for a cool draught, she handed me a metal saucer, whose contents smelt strongly of mastic, earnestly directing me to drink it in a sitting posture. This tomb she informed us is the property of a single woman, who visits it every evening, receives the contributions of the Faithful, prays, sweeps the pavement, and dusts the furniture. We left five piastres for this respectable maiden, and gratified the officious crone with another shilling. She repaid us by signalling to some score of beggars that a rich pilgrim had entered the Ma’ala, and their importunities fairly drove me out of the hallowed walls.

Leaving the Jannat al-Ma’ala, we returned towards the town, and halted on the left side of the road, at a mean building called the Masjid al-Jinn (of the Genii). Here was revealed the seventy-second chapter of the Koran, called after the name of the mysterious fire-drakes who paid fealty to the Prophet. Descending a flight of steps — for this Mosque, like all ancient localities at Meccah, is as much below as above ground — we entered a small apartment containing water-pots for drinking and all the appurtenances of ablution. In it is shown the Mauza al-Khatt (place of the writing), where Mohammed wrote a letter to Abu Mas’ud after the homage of the Jinnis. A second and interior flight of stone steps led to another diminutive oratory, where the Prophet used to pray and receive the archangel Gabriel. Having performed a pair of bows, which caused the perspiration to burst forth as if in a Russian bath, I paid a few piastres, and issued from the building with much satisfaction.

We had some difficulty in urging our donkeys through the crowded street, called the Zukak al-Hajar. Presently we arrived at the Bayt al-Nabi, the Prophet’s old house, in which he lived with the Sitt Khadijah. Here, says Burckhardt, the Lady Fatimah first saw the light8; and here, according to Ibn Jubayr, Hasan and Hosayn were born. Dismounting at the entrance, we descended a deep flight of steps, and found ourselves in a spacious hall, vaulted, and of better appearance than most of the sacred edifices at Meccah. In the centre, and well railed round, stood a closet of rich green and gold stuffs, in shape not unlike an umbrella-tent. A surly porter guarded the closed door, which some respectable people vainly attempted to open by honeyed words: a whisper from Abdullah solved the difficulty. I was directed to lie at full length upon my stomach, and to kiss a black-looking stone — said to be the lower half of the Lady Fatimah’s quern9 — fixed at the bottom of a basin of the same material. Thence we repaired to a corner, and recited a two-bow at the place where the Prophet used to pray the Sunnat and the Nafilah, or supererogatory devotions.10

Again remounting, we proceeded at a leisurely pace homewards, and on the way passed through the principal slave-market. It is a large street roofed with matting, and full of coffee-houses. The merchandise sat in rows, parallel with the walls. The prettiest girls occupied the highest benches, below were the plainer sort, and lowest of all the boys. They were all gaily dressed in pink and other light-coloured muslins, with transparent veils over their heads; and, whether from the effect of such unusual splendour, or from the re-action succeeding to their terrible land-journey and sea-voyage, they appeared perfectly happy, laughing loudly, talking unknown tongues, and quizzing purchasers, even during the delicate operation of purchasing. There were some pretty Gallas, douce-looking Abyssinians, and Africans of various degrees of hideousness, from the half-Arab Somal to the baboon-like Sawahili. The highest price of which I could hear was ￡60. And here I matured a resolve to strike, if favoured by fortune, a death-blow at a trade which is eating into the vitals of industry in Eastern Africa. The reflection was pleasant — the idea that the humble Haji, contemplating the scene from his donkey, might become the instrument of the total............