Not content with giving such good lessons to the servants, his saintship was, it seems, seriously annoyed by my presence here; and particularly at my having once or twice passed before the cave which he inhabits. He sent some of his people here, to say that, if I or my Christian servant again passed before his door, he would fire upon us; but Mohammed, who received the message, knew me too well to deliver it. By chance, that same afternoon, whilst I was engaged below, among some of the other tombs, my servant took this path, little suspecting that he should thereby incur the holy man’s displeasure. Two Arabs, armed with large stones, came to oblige him to turn back; but he, luckily, had his gun in his hand, and they consequently retreated. Next morning, I sent to Abou Bekr, to complain of the insult offered to me, assuring him that not a day should pass thenceforward without my taking the tabooed road. It was too delicate a matter, it seems, for him to deal with directly, the church assuming here, as elsewhere, a separate jurisdiction; he, therefore, sent one of his sons to the superior of the chief convent, with letters to request the punishment of the offenders. Meantime, I kept my word, and, in going out in the evening, I took this road; when I found an assemblage of some thirty Arabs, of all ages, prepared to bar my passage. As I advanced quietly, they drew on one side, but as I passed them, one small stone was thrown at, but missed me; on which I turned, and, going straight among them, desired to know the name of the fellow who had thrown the stone. This information, naturally enough, I could not obtain from them; but I had seen the man who threw the stone, remarking that he was more than ordinarily ugly; I, therefore, threatened that I would have both him and them punished.
The next day the offenders were brought before the great Sheikh’s secretary—a man, I discovered, of good sense and manners—who condemned them, with their superior, to fifty strokes a-piece of his three-tailed courbaj—a punishment which was immediately administered, and will not, I hope, be soon forgotten. It was really necessary to enforce such punishment, however painful to one’s own feelings; for lenity to these people, whose chief intelligence lies in the soles of their feet, would only have emboldened them to more serious attacks. The next day, Hamed, son of Abou Bekr, arrived to enforce their superior’s orders on the Derwishes; and he then came to pay me a visit, to make his father’s excuses for not having returned mine; his soldiers, he said, were busy collecting the miri, so that he could not assemble a sufficient escort to enable him to come with safety. This excuse, though strange, was perfectly true, for, in fact, this Arab Sheikh and Bey could not venture beyond the walls of his castle, even to his hareem, at the distance of a bow-shot, without a guard. His visit, including the dinner, did not occupy more than four hours, a very reasonable visitation from an Arab. He seemed not wanting in intelligence; and yet he could not, or would not, tell me the number of men under his father’s jurisdiction, nor even the number of tribes. Indeed, he appeared to have doubts as to the exact number of his ten brothers: first, he said they were nine; then, on counting them all over on his fingers, eleven, but he included himself. This son of a prince of great comparative wealth—Abou Bekr being worth at least some 5000l. a year—the possessor of wives, and herds, and flocks, wore a shirt as filthy as the Catholic Isabella’s, a cotton skull-cap to match, a burneau far from clean, and a pair of slippers as shabby and worn as the meanest Bedawy’s. At the end of the visit, he told me he was badly off for soap, as his appearance too plainly testified, and asked for a square, which, with not a little grumbling, my servant gave him. Poor fellow! he has an abscess in the side, which threatens him with consumption, unless the favourite remedy for all inward complaints in this country—burning with a hot iron—should effect a cure. He promised to consult a medical man who is at Derna at present; but I know that he will not do so, for fear of having to pay for a consultation or the medicines. The Arabs are fond enough of taking medicine when they can procure it gratis, but to pay for it seems against their creed. When the purse-strings are to be drawn, then they say, as he did, “Allah houa es-shafry”—“God is the curer,” to which I answered him, by completing the sentence, as it is inscribed over the pharmacy of the Benfratelli in Rome, “Nos remedium, Deus salutem.”
The people of the country, when seriously ill, will go long distances to obtain advice from a European doctor; but rather than pay for the medicine he orders, they will hand over more than its price to one of their Fikkehs for an amulet or an incantation. These are the learned men generally employed as tutors, or schoolmasters, or readers of the Koran. They ascribe all illnesses to Satanic influence; and their exorcisms are directed to drive the Devil out of the patient. I am somewhat incredulous as to this origin of disease; but I confess that the cures they sometimes perform are astonishing. When called to a sick person, they generally begin by telling his friends that he has so many devils; then, after a time, they will say only so many remain; and, finally, after further exorcisms, not unaccompanied by an increased honorary (no pay, no pater-noster), they sometimes really succeed in effecting a perfect cure. Even Jews and Christians resort to them; and I heard a well-authenticated instance from a medical man, who had himself visited the patient, of a rheumatic fever cured in this way. On this occasion the invalid was confined to bed, unable to move, and his Fikkeh assured him he was held down by many devils. He, therefore, after some prayers, belaboured them soundly with a courbaj, to make them depart. The strokes intended for the devils, naturally enough, made the patient also smart; and the pain of the flogging exceeding, I suppose, that of the rheumatism, the sick man at last started up to escape it, and the devils were declared to be expelled; but next day they returned, when the Fikkeh was again summoned, his remedy was again applied with undiminished energy, and the man was really cured. Poor old Keate would have been as great a Fikkeh in the East as he was in the West. Whilst I was in Benghazi, a Jewish girl who had been mad for a long time, was restored to her senses by one of these men; but on this occasion only prayers and fumigations were used. I have not seen any of these cures performed; but relying fully on the sources from which I obtained my information, have no doubt of their truth; admitting certain of the strange mental phenomena produced by so-called animal magnetism, I do not see, indeed, why I need disbelieve them. Whilst on the subject of wonders, I may mention, that discoverers of stolen property are not less frequently met with here than in Egypt; and that they often succeed in indicating either the thief, or the place where the missing goods are concealed, but never both, though more frequently the latter than the former, which indicates pretty clearly that their knowledge is to be attributed to the fears of the culprit.
CHAPTER VIII.
An Arab “Vendetta.” — Coquetry at the Wells. — A Bridal Procession. — The Okbah Pass.
September 12th.—It was late in the day before the camels which I had engaged to take my luggage to Derna were ready, and much time was lost, even after a start was made, before they were fairly in march. This is almost always the case the first day of a journey with new camels, as their owners are never content with the distribution of the luggage, each seeking to lighten his own load at the expense of his fellows.
The road for an hour and a half follows the direction of Safsaf, and then turning to the right proceeds over an undulating country, from which, occasionally, ravines run down to the lower ground, and in these the cedar or cypress trees afford a welcome shade. I have already spoken of these trees, the universal ornament of this country; but I must not omit to mention that they are of a peculiar species. The wood is of a pale yellowish colour, like that of the cypress, and has the same perfume; but the tree itself assumes an infinity of shapes, and in this respect is certainly the most beautiful that I have ever seen. It rarely grows in the straight spiral form of the common cypress; more frequently its branches stretch out at right angles to the trunk, like the cedar of Lebanon, and sometimes it assumes a parasol form, like the stone pine; but whatever its form, it always throws a deep broad shade. At two hours and three-quarters from Grennah are the ruins of a square fortalice; these, and large heaps of squared stones in the neighbourhood, marking the site of other buildings, seem to show that it was a place of some size. Beneath the ruin is a well, called Labrak, in a wide grassy plain, where some twenty years ago a bloody battle was fought, which resulted in the establishment of my friend Abou Bekr’s power, and in the total overthrow of the tribe of Beni Hadhra, seven hundred of whom are said to be buried in this spot. The remainder, with their chief, a cousin-german of the conqueror, fled to Egypt, where they obtained a settlement in the Fazoum; but they are ready to return the instant a chance of obtaining revenge presents itself. This may not be distant, as the Bey has a feud with another branch of his family, which feud the government of Benghazi is endeavouring to put an end to, but with small hopes of success, his enemies having sworn, “by the divorce,” to destroy Abou Bekr or leave the country. The continuance of his rule hardly seems desirable, as both he and his son are accused of the wildest excesses and basest meannesses of which Arabs can be guilty, in addition to systematic oppression of the people. Our excellent Vice-Consul in Derna told me that, a few days before my arrival, one of the sons of my host of Cariab came to beg a little sugar of him. He was then living in the Bazaar, and came to the Consul’s residence outside the town, hoping thus to save himself the few piastres, with which he could have bought what he wanted. These men will ask for or take, according to circumstances, whatever they see, were it only a scrap of cotton enough to make a skull-cap.
An hour and a quarter from Labrak lies Gabiout Younes, marked by large ruins, among which are many arches; a large building which, from its style, I thought Byzantine; and another, certainly Saracenic, approached by a lofty arched gateway. This building is composed of vaulted chambers, and was the first specimen of Saracenic architecture I had met with, but it is entirely destitute of other decoration than the beautiful light arch of the gateway. Here, as in every spot where ancient buildings are found, are large reservoirs. Only three-quarters of an hour further on are the more extensive ruins called by the Arabs Tirt (like dirt), in the maps Tereth, containing four castle-like buildings and many tombs. Two old reservoirs serve as a Zavia, or habitation of Derwishes, of the same order as my friends of Grennah, and I found here the largest encampment of Bedawy (of the ’Ailet Ghaith) which I have yet seen. They suffered me to wander about the ruins without molestation, but showed no signs of friendliness—thanks, doubtless, to the instructions of the Derwishes, who have been of late years very active in these countries in spreading a feeling of hostility to Christians. Northwards from the ruins extends a plain called Haou el Zouz. From here, continuing nearly eastwards, in two hours and a quarter we passed the ruins of Lamloudeh, formerly Limnis, covering a large space of ground, but, as usual in this country, without a trace of inscriptions. There is a tolerably preserved castle, which seems to have received at a period long subsequent to its erection an additional fortification in a sloping embankment, some eight feet high, of small unsquared stones piled against the walls. Here, and at Tirt, I remarked large numbers of round and oval flat stones hollowed on one side to a depth of about six inches, with a square hole in the centre. Excepting one which lies flat and, I think, in its original position, all the others are sticking upright in the ground. They are more like mill-stones than anything else; but, besides some of them being oval, their size is so large, varying from forty-five to sixty inches in diameter, and their number is so great, that I can hardly think this their original destination. There is to be seen in Rome a stone called the “Bocca della verità” which has nearly the same form as these; it was the mouth of a sewer, according to the general account, and perhaps these stones may have served as the covers of cisterns; but I found none connected with any existing excavation. The ruins are built on the side of a hill and contain many arches, all bearing the impress of the Roman period. Beneath the town lay four very large reservoirs connected with each other, partly cut in the rock, partly built. A little to the east is a subterraneous passage, now very much choked up, which the Arabs pretend communicates with the citadel, and near it are many broken sarcophagi and cave tombs, as far as I was able to see, all devoid of ornament.
From Lamloudeh the road passes through a beautiful wood of arbutus, over long low hills, which, leaving Zimah to the right, gradually descend into a plain, watered by two fountains, which is called the Kubbeh. The stream issues in considerable volume from the rock, in front of which still stands a portico (El Kubbeh) supported by five (formerly eight) square pillars. In front the ground is covered with remains of buildings apparently connected with the fountain, and the rocks behind contain a great many large tombs, as well as a flight of steps leading to the ground above. Round the fountain I found large flocks of sheep and goats, with their shepherds, who were busy drawing water, with which they filled troughs formed of stones taken from the old buildings; women also, who, with their donkeys, had come for the supply of water required for their households. Here I seated myself on the top of the portico, in the shade of the rock, against which it is built, waiting for my camels to come up, and found amusement enough in watching the coquetries of the ladies and the awkward gallantries of the men. The well is still, as in the days of Rebecca, the place for flirtations. The filling two skins and tying them on the donkey were so adroitly managed, that, with many words and much laughter, the men seeming to aid, but really impeding the operation, at least two hours were consumed at the well. The Bedawin, as I have already said, are very sparing in their use of water, their bread even being generally made with milk, so that the visits to the wells, often at a great distance, are only made once in three or four days. Whilst I sat on the Kubbeh, a wedding party conducting a bride to her husband came in sight, and for two hours I had the amusement of watching them, as it is a point of honour to consume the whole day on the road from the bride’s house to her husband’s tent; and as this was at no great distance, and the Kubbeh a sort of public place, it took the party two hours to go over a space which I rode along in five minutes. The bride was invisible, shut up in an arched box called a carmout, placed on a camel, the centre part or arch covered with black hair-cloth, the ends with white cotton, the housings of the camel being also of a dark colour. The cortège consisted of six horsemen (among whom were neither her father nor her husband), several men, and eight or ten women on foot. At every hundred paces the procession stopped, the women raised the wild cry of rejoicing called Zaghazhit, and some of the men performed a sort of awkward dance in front of the camel, which ended with a discharge of guns. Whilst in sight they once varied the entertainment with a mimic fight, when there was much waste of powder, and once, on a level piece of ground, the horsemen gave chase to each other, the only graceful feature in their sports. Then, with a fresh burst of the Zaghazhit from the ladies, the procession moved on. From what I hear of the fair sex in this country, they do not seem to have much degenerated from the reputation which Herodotus has given to their predecessors the Gindanes. Of course I am unwilling to believe all the scandalous tales which were told me, but the existence of such stories seems to prove that irregularities, unknown or carefully concealed in other Mussulman countries, here excite little attention. Divorces are frequent, but they arise most frequently from the caprice of the men, and, far from being considered disgraceful to the lady, many persons prefer those who have already made the happiness of second husbands to inexperienced maidens, as their successive dowers, paid in full at each divorce, frequently make them, for the country, wealthy. The usual corbeil given to a bride consists of four rotoli of silver, half a rotolus of gold, and some pieces of stuff for dresses. Only a part of the metal is in general paid down, the remainder a debt due, in case of divorce, to the lady, or, in case of her death, to her heirs, that is, her children, or, if she have left none, to her family.