We had scarcely reached the precincts of the orchard grounds, when we were stopped by an officer of the excise, who, with a follower or two, was lurking about the road for the purpose of preventing smuggling. He was attracted by the sight of my camp-bed, which, in the manner it was rolled up in its case, looked like a bale of raw silk. Nothing short of opening the case would satisfy him that it was not silk, and, after giving me much trouble, he grumbled at his disappointment, and allowed us to proceed. I rode straight to the house of M. Chaboceau, the French doctor, of whom I have spoken in a former part of my journal, where I had reason to suppose I should be hospitably welcomed—nor was I mistaken.
One of my first visits was to Ahmed Bey. His son, Sulymán, of whom mention is made so largely at my first visit to Damascus, was no more. Some months before, in looking too eagerly over the edge of the housetop, he fell forward, and, unable to save himself, was dashed to pieces. Yet he had survived the plague in 1813; although Ahmed Bey at that time lost twenty-one persons of his family, among whom was his amiable wife. But how was I gratified, yet afflicted, by the visit of the lovely Fatima! whose exceeding beauty and amiable character, known to me during the protracted illness of her mother, whom I attended when at Damascus before, had almost made me forswear the faith I was born in, and become, for her sake, a convert to Islamism. Informed of my arrival, she hastened, with the aged Hadjy Murt Mohammed Aga, to see me. I was shocked to find her blooming youth poisoned with a sickly yellow hue, and her large and once brilliant eyes now deprived of their lustre. She had had the plague, and was yet, though so many months had elapsed, labouring under its terrible effects.
I took Shukhr Aga, one of the bey’s people, with me, and went from bazar to bazar making purchases. I was shown the largest piece of ambergris I ever saw. It was of the size and nearly in the shape of a human skull, which it resembled also in being hollow, this form being given by the calabashes in which it is collected. It is much used by the wealthy and luxurious to perfume coffee, which is done by fixing a piece the size of a pea at the bottom of the coffee-cup. Each time the boiling coffee is poured upon it, it imparts an agreeable flavour to the beverage. Ambergris enters frequently into the composition of aphrodisiacal stimulants, much used by Mahometans.
I purchased a Damascus sabre for 172 piasters. It was of that kind called in Arabic tabane, which means tempered. It will not be amiss here to advert to the sabres known in Europe by the general name of Damascus blades, but which are more accurately distinguished in Turkey, either from their temper, their metal, their form, or their age. Their temper is known by the clearness of the waves which cover the surface and indeed penetrate the metal; and the more dense these are, the better is the metal: to such is applied the term of tabane. If the blades are very black, then the Turks name them kara Khorasàn (black steel of Khorasàn): if they are of a lighter hue, tabane Hindy or Indian-tempered, in which case the waves are farther apart, and their outline is sometimes broken.
In looking along the blade, the back more especially, a flaw or crack may sometimes be discovered. This is caused by hammering out the blade from two eggs, or balls, of metal instead of one, or from thickening, or from piecing, the blade where defective. Gilt letters engraved on them are often placed to conceal some such defect, and, in Turkey generally, detract somewhat from their value, unless the legend happens to mark great antiquity or the name of a celebrated possessor.
The form most admired, and which peculiarly belongs to those blades called Damascene, is the narrow blade, curved with an equal bend. The broad one is called the Stambûl or Constantinople blade, and is double-edged from the point up to one-third of its length. There is a blade of a more silvery gray and of a broader wave than the Indian tabane, which is called nerýz, as I conjecture from the name of some place where a celebrated manufactory was. All the above mentioned blades are, in a certain degree, ancient; for the modern Damascus blades, of which I possess one, are inferior in every respect, and are known by looking somewhat like blades made wavy with aquafortis.
I was desirous of buying a shawl for a turban; and, from the inquiries I was led to make on that occasion, compared with what I have observed since my return to England, I have no doubt cashmere shawls are cheaper here than in Turkey, as are, at this moment, Damascus sabres, since the peace has thrown a great many of both into our market.
The horse bazar was held every morning about half an hour after sunrise, in an open space in the middle of the town. I resorted thither, and looked about for such horses as I was in search of. I found that horse-dealing was a system of cheating as extensive in Damascus as in London; but the public regulations to prevent the ignorant from becoming the dupes of knaves were good, and, as I was told, generally speaking, rigidly enforced. I saw, among many ordinary horses which were sold, a Bedouin filly of two years fetch 500 piasters, or £25. She was iron-gray, which is rather the prevailing colour of Arab horses; and, although not of the finest breed, still it was evident that she was eagerly caught up. On coming into the bazar, you are surrounded by several delàls (brokers). These men endeavour to find out what your wants are, and busily set about satisfying them. Horses are ridden at a walk, trot, and gallop, backward and forward between the double rows of spectators, whilst the delàls, mounted on their backs, cry aloud what has been bidden, and thus sell them by auction.
Shukhr Aga, always with me, sought out the delàl generally employed by Ahmed Bey, and told him what I was in search of. Forthwith he brought before me several steady mares, among which I selected one, stout, bony, and in good condition; and, having seen her tried, after much altercation with the owner, the bargain was struck, and the mare paid for. The delàl was paid at the regular market agency about one and a half per cent; and there was besides a fee to the bazar. Horses thus bought are subject to three days’ trial, within which time they may be returned, and the money reclaimed. But the best illustration of horse-dealing in Damascus will be in relating the adventures of M. Beaudin’s horse, stolen from him, and sold in that very market.
M. Beaudin had left Mar Elias for St. Jean d’Acre on business for Lady Hester. He rode a brown bay mare, and carried under him his saddle-bags. His heavy luggage was on an ass conducted by a driver. Night overtook him near old Tyre, at Ras-el-ayn, a village in which are the celebrated waters, called by Pococke and other travellers Solomon’s springs. They turn several water-mills; and one of these he entered, with a determination to sleep out the night, and pursue his journey when day broke. He tied up his mare, hung the corn-bag to her nose; and, putting the saddle-bags under his head as a pillow, covered himself with his abah, and attempted to sleep. The miller was attending to his business at the hopper. M. Beaudin had scarcely made himself comfortable when he heard the footsteps of persons entering the mill; and, lifting the abah off his face, he saw two ill-looking men, who had come in, as they said, to escape the rain which was falling very fast. M. Beaudin thought their appearance suspicious; but he argued with himself thus: “My saddle-bags are under my head, my mare’s bridle is almost in my hand; they cannot do me much mischief, and let the miller look to himself;” so he covered up his face, and went to sleep; the ass-driver probably had better secured his own animal, and went to sleep also.