On the 18th of July, the baggage being all loaded on camels, about three in the afternoon, the caravan, for such, from the number of people and animals, it now was, left Acre. To Hadj Ali, a janissary, who has already been mentioned in this narrative, was committed the conduct of the baggage. It has just now been seen how, in the revolt against El Gezzàr, he had fled with the rebels to Constantinople, under Selim Pasha; after whose death, Ali returned to Syria, and offered his services to Nasif, at that time pasha of Damascus. He remained with him some years; and when, in consequence of suspicions attached to his government by the Porte, Nasif was obliged to quit his country, and exile himself in Europe, Ali was one of three or four who accompanied him, and, with him, visited Naples, Genoa, Leghorn, and Marseilles. Nasif Pasha being permitted to return, Ali was restored to his native country, and went and served Suliman, pasha of Acre. But Ali had likewise made a campaign in the vizir’s army in Egypt, and, on the reverses of the Turks in that country, had quietly remained at Cairo, where, by his activity and adaptation to Frank manners, he was employed by the French, at a pay (as he often said with exultation) of a dollar a day. He would sometimes likewise display his knowledge of the French language acquired when in their service; and no one would do him the injustice to infer anything from the expressions prison, garde, and sacre, which seemed to form almost the extent of his acquirements.
It was at Acre that we found him. He was past fifty; but active, intelligent, and a good Mussulman; which means that he strictly observed the rites and ceremonies of his religion. He was very diminutive in stature. This was the man who afterwards, in 1816, filled with the Princess of Wales the same situation which we shall now find him occupying in Lady Hester’s suite. Length of service, and more especially fidelity in the execution of his duties, had procured him advancement, and he now styled himself Khial el Khazny—a name implying treasury horse messenger. With him was associated Mohammed el Ladkány, who, it will be recollected, was assigned to her ladyship as a guard at Jaffa. He was a man of not less activity and intelligence than his companion, and of noble physiognomy.
We left the city gates, and, as our people were somewhat heterogeneous, some confusion ensued the moment we were on the high road. Few of the Christian servants had probably ever mounted a horse before, since Christians, unless in the service of great Turks or Franks, are forbidden to ride on horseback. We were therefore entertained with a display of horsemanship that would not have disgraced a gentleman on the Easter hunt. Mrs. Fry, her ladyship’s maid, had been accoutred in man’s clothes; and, from her timidity in this new garb, and thus mounted, was often exposed to the danger of falling from her ass, on which she persisted in sitting in the decorous posture customary with women in England: although in a country where women invariably ride astride, and where there are no side saddles, she might have imitated them with less singularity and without indecency. Order was at length obtained, and we proceeded along the plain to the north of Acre. We passed on our left the village of Zyb,[64] where is the tomb of Saad-ed-dyn. We then reached the foot of a promontory jutting into the sea, called Gebel Msherify. At its first rise is a tower or πυργος, named in Arabic (by a corruption of the word) Bûrge; one of many others which are seen at unequal distances all along the Syrian coast. The road here is steep and rugged, and very unfit for camels, which, however safely they travel on level ground, lose their footing where there are inequalities.
It was now dark. Sometimes I kept in front of the caravan with Hadj Ali; and sometimes, when the delay of the camels induced me to ride back towards them, in my anxiety for the medicine-chest, which was more particularly an object of care to me, I rode by the side of the camel which bore it, balanced on the opposite side by a large clothes’-trunk, and both surmounted by my camp bed. As we were ascending Gebel Msherify, what was my alarm when I saw, or rather heard (for the darkness of the night prevented my seeing clearly) the camel fall over what appeared to be a precipice. The caravan stopped, and we alighted to see what mischief was done. Instead of falling over the precipice into the sea, the camel had rolled down about nine feet, and was found rid of his load, which in his struggle had quitted him. By the aid of the camel-drivers, who are sturdy fellows, and probably used to such mishaps, the luggage was replaced on the same beast, who had experienced no serious injury. But to the chest, filled with glass bottles, much damage was to be apprehended. However, this was no place to examine it, both from the darkness that enveloped us, and from the apprehension of robbers—a fear that possessed me more powerfully at this time than when I performed the same journey some years afterwards, when I knew how well the government of Suliman Pasha protected the traveller in his peregrinations.
When the caravan proceeded, a winding path seemed to carry us higher and higher, whilst the roaring of the sea, heard distinctly, indicated how near we were to the edge of the precipice. Underwood covered the soil. On a sudden, we descended rapidly by the side of a watercourse, which brought us to another bûrge on the seashore, and elevated but a few yards above it. Close to it was a cottage, or what we should in England designate as a lodge for cattle; for it seemed no better, although it was inhabited by a man who levied a toll on passengers and loaded animals, without the assistance of a gate or barrier. This place is called the Guffer. It was here that Hadj Ali, who had been desired to divide the distance between Acre and Tyre into two equal parts, caused us to halt; and, although the very stoney soil hereabouts left not a smooth spot for our encampment, yet, by beating the surface of the ground, a level was effected for Lady Hester’s tent, and, in an adjoining field, nearer to the seashore, the other tents were pitched with some regularity.
The following morning was hot, and the low spot of ground on which we were encamped seemed to confine the heat so as to make it additionally oppressive. Behind us was a steep ascent covered with stunted oaks, and at the summit of it was the village of Nakûra, of about forty or fifty houses, from which were procured milk, eggs, and fowls. We walked down to the ruined tower by the edge of the sea, and found it in the last stage of dilapidation: it is, like the others, round, of common materials, and of ordinary construction. The pilgrims, who, with the exception of a few merchants, are the only Christians who travel along the coast, are contented with the current story respecting these towers; namely, that they were built by order of the Empress Helena, when, zealous in the search she was about to make at Jerusalem for the lost cross, she resolved to establish by beacons a speedy means of communication with Constantinople, to announce the important event; but they were probably built as watch-towers against maritime descents on the coast.
Soon after breakfast, all the tents were struck. Our next station was fixed near Tyre; it not being considered necessary to enter that city, inasmuch as it afforded no accommodation better than our tents. Proceeding from El Guffer[65] (the toll-house), we rode by the sea-side, along a stoney ridge elevated but a few feet above the sea, upon which were visible the remains of a Roman paved road: this ridge continued, with now and then a few undulations, until we reached a promontory, which, similar to that passed over on the preceding evening, forms to the north the natural division of the plains of Acca and Tyre. We began to ascend it, and, at a small distance from its foot, passed a bûrge more ruinous than that of El Nakûra. At the top, we were obliged to traverse a road said to be the work of Alexander the Great, the side of which next to the sea overhangs a tremendous precipice: this road had no wall, either natural or artificial, to prevent the sudden start of a horse from precipitating himself and his rider to certain destruction.[66] Hadj Ali did not fail to tell me a story, always probably repeated at this place, of a beautiful bride, who, on her way to the bridegroom’s house, was, by her horse’s taking fright, thrown from the top to the bottom, and dashed to pieces.
When we arrived at the summit of the promontory, the town of Tyre came into view: its peculiar situation on a tongue of land, with the ruins of some towers, which, afar off, have still a picturesque appearance, has much to interest the traveller, exclusive of the sacred and pagan recollections which its name excites. In a climate almost always pure, a tree or a bush seen through the haze of noonday, along a coast in some places presenting nothing but an even strand, becomes an object of attention. Much more beautiful was the sight of the town which now burst upon us; and of the plain, which, bounded by hills at first retreating and again at a distance of several miles bending towards the seashore, showed on its varied surface the ripened corn, the maize, the water-melon fields, and other grains and fruits which the inhabitant of the western world never sees growing. On entering the plain, some inconsiderable ruins were observable; and, whatever they might have formerly been, exhibiting at present nothing more than dispersed stones, and very small fragments of columns, once parts of buildings, the foundations of which no longer existed. Four hours’ march brought us to the skirt of a village, the direct road to which diverged somewhat to the right, through plantations of mulberry-trees, whilst we proceeded along the seashore. In a quarter of an hour, we came to a small rivulet, running over a gravelly bottom with a limpid stream. Here we were to halt for the night. The camels were unloaded, the tents pitched, and every disposition made for dinner, and for passing the night. The spot was truly romantic, and, when visited on subsequent occasions, although it had lost its novelty, it never lost its charms. The soil from Acre to Tyre we observed to be generally a rich black mould.
Ras-el-âyn (or the fountain head) is a village which occupies the ground where perhaps once stood a part of Tyre. The rivulet, on the banks of which we were now encamped, is the almost neglected stream of two or three rich springs, which were carried by noble aqueducts to the old city, and inland, in another direction, for agricultural purposes. These springs now served to turn three water-mills: as they issued out of the ground, they were confined in spacious cisterns,[67] until they had reached a considerable height, and were then poured off by different spouts, and afterwards carried by trenches to irrigate the surrounding gardens, or were lost in the sea through two or three rivulets like those near which we were. The village, consisting of about thirty or forty houses, is inhabited by Metoualis (or Shyites), a sect of Mahometans held as heretics by the Turks. It owes its fertility to the springs, and its beauty to the verdure which they nourish. A portion of the ancient aqueduct crossed a watercourse, that traversed the village, and assumed the appearance of a bridge. It is still used for the purpose of carrying water to the neighbouring orchards, is beautifully covered with capillus Veneris and other aquatic plants. Farther on, in another direction, stalactitic incrustations had in some places coated the whole pier of an arch, or blocked up an arch itself. There was a tree in the centre of the village, which I shall ever recollect, as having at different periods passed four nights of my life under it. I saw it now with the satisfaction that spreading trees give in hot climates, where their umbrageous covering is so delicious. It was an ilex, as large as an English elm, and is called sindean in Arabic.
In our walk through the village, coming into the fields from the south, we saw another party, that, like our own, was encamped. Curiosity induced us to advance close to them. At the foot of a spreading figtree, now in full foliage, a middle-aged, robust Turk was employed in boiling a saucepan over a fire made between some rough stones temporarily raised for the purpose. At a short distance, two pack-horses and an ass were grazing. A carpet was spread on the ground, on which was sitting a beautiful bronze-faced girl, about thirteen or fourteen, whom we guessed to be an Abyssinian. Beside her was a black girl, still younger, employed in washing rice to be prepared for dinner. The man showed no symptoms of displeasure at our approach, nor did the eldest girl attempt to conceal her face, which is generally the first action of Mahometan females, even of children, on the appearance of a stranger. The Turk invited us to join his party; and, on our thanking him, asked us if we belonged to the tents by the waterside, and whether it was true that an English princess was travelling through the country. He then told us that he was a slave merchant, and had these two girls on sale; that if either of them would suit the English lady he should be happy to dispose of her. It was thus that, to induce us to recommend the Abyssinian from a sight of her extraordinary beauty, he had left her uncovered. An ignorance of the usages of the country, and an abhorrence of such traffic, induced us at that time to look with feelings of the sincerest pity on those poor creatures; but a more thorough knowledge of the institutions of the Turks has taught me to behold slavery among them as a means of advancement to situations, which otherwise Circassian women and negresses could never hope to obtain. It is the mother of a child thus stolen who is most to be pitied: she loses her offspring for ever; but the child will sometimes rise to extreme affluence, and seldom fails to meet with the same kind treatment as the children of the family in which she lives. We however quitted him, impressed with admiration of this young Abyssinian, whose symmetry of form and regularity of features gave us the idea of as perfect beauty as can be found, without any admixture of red and white.