At sunset we recited the prayers suited to the occasion, straining our eyes, but all in vain, to catch sight of Meccah. About 1 a.m. I was aroused by a general excitement around me.
“Meccah! Meccah!” cried some voices. “The sanctuary, oh, the sanctuary!” exclaimed others, and all burst into loud “Labbayk!” not infrequently broken by sobs. With a heartfelt “Alhamdu lillah,” I looked from my litter and saw under the chandelier of the Southern Cross the dim outlines of a large city, a shade darker than the surrounding plain.
A cool east wind met us, showing that it was raining in the Taif hills, and at times sheet lightning played around the Prophet’s birthplace—a common phenomenon, which Moslems regard as the testimony of Heaven to the sanctity of the spot.
Passing through a deep cutting, we entered the northern suburb of our destination. Then I made to the Shamiyah, or Syrian quarter, and finally, at 2 a.m., I found myself at the boy Mohammed’s house. We arrived on the morning of Sunday, September 11th, 1853, corresponding with Zu’l Hijjah 6th, 1269. Thus we had the whole day
to spend in visiting the haram, and a quiet night before the opening of the true pilgrim season, which would begin on the morrow.
The morrow dawned. After a few hours of sleep and a ceremonial ablution, we donned the pilgrim garb, and with loud and long “Labbayk!” we hastened to the Bayt Ullah, or House of Allah, as the great temple of Meccah is called.
At the bottom of our street was the outer Bab El Salam, or Gate of Security, looking towards the east, and held to be, of all the thirty-nine, the most auspicious entrance for a first visit.
Here we descended several steps, for the level of the temple has been preserved, whilst the foundations of the city have been raised by the decay of ages. We then passed through a shady colonnade divided into aisles, here four, and in the other sides three, pillars deep. These cloisters are a forest of columns upwards of five hundred and fifty in number, and in shape and material they are as irregular as trees. The outer arches of the colonnade are ogives, and every four support a small dome like half an orange, and white with plaster: some reckon one hundred and twenty, others one hundred and fifty, and Meccan superstition declares they cannot be counted. The rear of the cloisters rests upon an outer wall of cut stone, finished with pinnacles, or Arab battlements, and at different points in it rise seven minarets. These are tall towers much less bulky than ours, partly in facets, circular, and partly cylindrical, built
at distinct epochs, and somewhat tawdrily banded with gaudy colours.
This vast colonnade surrounds a large unroofed and slightly irregular oblong, which may be compared with an exaggeration of the Palais Royal, Paris. This sanded area is six hundred and fifty feet long by five hundred and twenty-five broad, dotted with small buildings grouped round a common centre, and is crossed by eight narrow lines of flagged pavement. Towards the middle of it, one hundred and fifteen paces from the northern colonnade and eighty-eight from the southern, and based upon an irregularly oval pavement of fine close grey gneiss, or granite, rises the far-famed Kaabah, or inner temple, its funereal pall contrasting vividly with the sunlit walls and the yellow precipices of the city.