CHAPTER IV

THE BURDEN OF NEWER NINEVEH

(MOSUL)

There are more pleasant places in the world than the city of Mosul. Hot, white, and dusty, it lies on a rather "hummocky" site along the right (or western) bank of the Tigris, looking across to where the mounds of Nebi Yunus and Koyunjik mark the site of Nineveh.

It boasts a population of about eighty thousand souls, of whom perhaps a fourth are Christians, and five thousand Jews: and the whole is surrounded by a wall and moat which enclose rather more than a square mile of ground--an area about equal to the city of London.

The wall may follow old lines, but is itself no more than a century old. It is rapidly splitting to pieces owing to the poorness of its construction, a process much assisted both by private citizens and by the Government, both of whom wish to make use of its stones. Probably, the foundations are shaky, for the whole town suffers from that failing; and every minaret in the place has a conspicuous kink in it, except the principal one, which has two.

The town does not now fill up its walls, a large quarter at the northern end having been so devastated by plague about three hundred years ago that it was abandoned. This area now remains empty, and there is in consequence a certain amount of "overflow" beyond the walls at the southern end of the town, where stands the Government serai with the barracks of the troops in its neighbourhood.

Mosul is not a seaport, though the Government of his Britannic Majesty would seem to be invincibly ignorant on this point. When the Consulate was re-established here a few years ago, the gentleman appointed asked for a grant for the furnishing of his reception-room, but was refused, on the ground that his only guests would be "a few old sea captains"; to this day his successors are required to make an annual return of the British shipping that has discharged cargo here, though nothing except a "_keleg_" (the local type of raft, of which we shall hear more) ever comes within three hundred miles of the place!

Mosul boasts one vice that is at least unusual in the land, for it is a smoky town. A pall hangs over much of the city, from the kilns where the local marble is burnt into lime. Nearly the whole city is built in what is known as _jess_ construction. This is a primitive type of building, the walls of all houses being formed with rough blocks of stone, "balled" in lime cement, and so put together. The roof is domed in the same way, but to save material the spandrils are usually filled in with large earthenware pots, which may or may not stand the weight put upon them. As a style, it is deceptive, for it looks solid, enduring, and weather-proof, and yet is none of the three: a house built in it seldom stands for eighty years, the thrust of the dome normally bringing the walls down by the end of that period.

The construction, which cracks freely, has a way of absorbing much of the rain that falls upon it, so that a house is seldom really dry in winter; and the cement has a delightful trick (which is appreciated during a Mosul summer) of storing up heat during the day and gradually releasing it during the night.

The town is composed, like most Oriental cities, of a maze of winding featureless lanes, all of the same white cement, and rarely of a width that forbids a cat to jump across from one roof to the opposite; they are innocent of lamps, or rather were so till the late Nazim Pasha (then Vali of Baghdad, and superintendent of this province also) visited the place; when paraffin lamps were put up in his honour, and now stand unlighted on their brackets. The pavement is of large cobble-stones, worn smooth by many generations of slippers and bare feet; and the whole town is, of course, innocent of drains. Hence, in the rainy season it is well to put a portable bridge across the street if you propose to visit your neighbour, or to wear wooden pattens some six inches in height.

Only the doorways break the blank walls in the street fronts of the houses, but the courtyards within are undeniably picturesque, and are of a plan that is at least ancient, for it is identical with that found in the cities of ancient Assyria, unearthed by the German excavator of to-day. An entry, carefully constructed so as to prevent the passer-by from seeing within even when the door is open, conducts into a courtyard, surrounded by a two-storied cloister, carried on monolithic pillars of the local grey alabaster. The court is usually paved, and the house-front often cased, with the same material. A deep open recess at one side provides a summer lounge. A water conduit usually runs through the court itself, and the central part is often used as a garden.

The house of a rich man invariably has its _serdab_, or underground summer-parlour, where you may get any coolness that is going in the fierce summer heats. The thermometer then goes up regularly to 120°, and seldom sinks below 95° by night or day--a fact attested by a certain British Consul, who tried the experiment of hatching out a sitting of eggs, left uncovered in a disused (and perhaps rather specially hot) room of his Consulate.

Resident Europeans say that the _serdab_ may be cool, but that, unless very well seasoned, you are apt to pay for the use of it by a dose of the country fever.

Hot winds blow in from the desert which comes up to the very walls, and the dust from the kilns and pounding-yards (where mules drag rude rollers over the lime to grind it to powder) flies on their wings all over the city; so that, from this cause, and from the glare of the white walls ophthalmia is even more prevalent here than in most Oriental cities, and lung disease of various kinds abounds. Another local plague is the famous "button," which is found from Aleppo to Baghdad, and is believed to go back to the days of Job. This is sometimes called "the date," from its appearance, and is no more than a painless, but very unsightly, boil; which refuses to heal for twelve months and leaves a permanent scar behind. The infection is believed to be carried by flies, and the disease certainly manifests itself, as a rule, on the face or hands, while those who shave are particularly liable to it. Local scandal tells of a certain German Consul who despised all precautions and slept on the roof of his house without curtains, and (the night being hot) without pyjamas also; an imprudence for which he paid the penalty in thirty fine "buttons" scattered all over his consular person!

Thermantidotes, ice supplies, and all other luxuries of English life in India are unknown in Mosul, though an enterprising Christian resident in the town did once introduce an ice-machine. This was certainly welcomed by the Vali, as the only sign of the new régime that he had found in Mosul (it was shortly after the revolution), and as the only token of progress of any sort that he could note as a result of the fifty years that had elapsed since he had formerly been in the place as a very junior civil officer.

There was strong conservative opposition to the introduction even of such a mild instalment of progress; though perhaps it might have been mollified, had the pioneer been a little more liberal with his distribution of _bakhshish_! As it was weird accusations circulated against the new engine; it smelt so abominable that the whole neighbourhood of the factory was unhealthy (as though one stink more or less could make any difference in Mosul); it turned out its ice red-hot, and materially increased the heat that it was proposing to alleviate; and it was an impious interference with the decrees and arrangements of Allah. The ice-merchant, however, had not been born in Mosul, and bred in America, without learning a thing or two; and he craftily put the general commanding the garrison on the free-list for ice. He calculated that, after the first week or so, a gentleman, who did not keep the law about total abstinence too strictly, would not tolerate any interference with the coolness of his drinks. That expedient worked admirably, and all interference was summarily squashed, for so long as the machine continued to work at all. That, however, was not many weeks, for no machinery that is not absolutely and completely "fool-proof" can stand the handling it gets from an Arab, and in Mosul the simplest repair may necessitate months of delay. There will be no market for machinery in the interior of Turkey, until good repair shops can be provided as well.

As capital of the province Mosul is the residence of a Vali, but the town is administered under him by an "administrative council of reputable citizens," who are popularly believed to be the most corrupt gang of the sort in all Turkey. And we devoutly hope that the imputation is true, for any clique which is more corrupt than they are must be black indeed. Their leader is one Haji Ahmed, "son of the soap-seller," ibn Sabonji; a large landed proprietor who has accumulated his estate by the simple process of ordering any unhappy Naboth whose land bordered on his own to sell to him at any price that his big neighbour cared to name. If the small man consented, well and good; if not, then an accusation against him, accompanied with a trifle of _bakhshish_ to the investigating judge, secured that the imprudent Naboth should live untried in the town prison till such time as he should see reason.

This worthy has had ups and downs in his life, and once fell very foul of a Vali, who was seized with natural zeal to check the plundering of the public purse when he found that Sabonji Pasha had laid hands on certain funds that he had intended to appropriate himself! Thus that distinguished member of the town council was pilloried; _i.e._ was put on a donkey with his face blackened and turned to the tail, and so led round the town; being thereafter put into the cesspool of the Government "_Serai_" to pass the night. "_Iyba_" (shame) such as this would end the career of most men, but Sabonji has some unusual gifts, and intrigue and bribery soon brought him into power again.

The fact that one of the finest and largest houses in the town was built by one of the smaller legal officials, nominally out of fifteen months' saving of a salary which, when paid, amounted to sixty pounds per annum, may perhaps be evidence of what "pickings" amount to in the trade of law; and the story of a recent episode (occurring in the year of grace 1910) in the career of a prominent and highly respected citizen of the town will speak more clearly than long descriptions.

Seyyid Ullah was the principal burglar of Mosul, having inherited a practice in that profession from his father, as naturally as son may follow sire in the medical business in England. Housebreaking was what he specialized in, and the usual mode of procedure was to dig through the wall of a house with pickaxes from the street; it having been found, by experience, that this was less laborious than breaking down an iron-bound door. Of course, arrangements had to be made that the police should be well away on the other side of the town (if they were not engaged, as sometimes happened, in securing the ends of the street against any interruption), but there was seldom any difficulty about that. It was an understood thing, seemingly, that you must not interfere with the trade by which a man earned his bread; and Seyyid Ullah was only held to have over-stepped his legitimate rights once--when he cut off a woman's hands! Even then, it was admitted in extenuation that there really was no other way of getting her gold bangles.

Having, acquired a competence in his profession, Seyyid Ullah retired as he grew older; but, like other energetic gentlemen, found that he really needed something to do. For this reason, he took to smuggling tobacco, a profitable occupation, but one that brought him into collision with the Government in a way that mere burglary had never done--for tobacco is a Government monopoly. So one night a caravan of mules on their way to his house were attacked by the guards of the "Regie," and not only were the loads lost, but there was a dead policeman to explain. He had died of a Mannlicher bullet; and there was only one rifle of that type in Mosul--the property of Seyyid Ullah; who notoriously allowed nobody else to handle it. Moreover the bullet had apparently come from a roof where that poor man was standing at the time.

Some unscrupulous enemy put all these coincidences before the Government, with the result that Seyyid Ullah was arrested, and even ordered into gaol. Not that he entered it, for gaol is not for such as he; he merely sat in the coffee-shop outside, and when that enemy who had given the information went past on his way to market, he was mobbed and hustled by the Seyyid's followers, till a formal petition had to be sent in to the Vali that he should be requested to go inside. Of course they gave him the best room, with a window looking over the street; and the governor of the prison used to give him his company to dinner and pass the time over a backgammon board; but he complained that the damp was bad for his rheumatism.

At last the worthy man was tried; and acquitted without a stain upon his character. The court held (so far as foreign residents could understand) that the policeman had been guilty of contributory negligence, in that he got in the way of a bullet that was travelling about on its lawful occasions; and that all facts about the make of the rifle, and so on, were irrelevant details.

A free man again, Seyyid Ullah came at once to call upon the British Consul, to explain that he quite understood that his release from the machinations of his enemies was due solely to the influence of his Excellency the Bey; and that he was more than ready to undertake any job the Consul desired, in the way of removing any objectionable person, for he must own that the expenses incidental to his acquittal had made a sad hole in his savings!

Some time previous to this, there had been great complaining among the merchants of Mosul over the depredations of a certain gang of thieves, all of whom were well known to the police, and who were plundering peaceful citizens apparently at their own sweet will.

Authority, though most unwilling, was prodded into some sort of activity, and that particular gang was arrested and stowed in gaol. The robberies, however, did not diminish a whit; and after a while the governor of the prison pointed out this fact to the Vali. Evidently "those poor men" had been wrongly arrested after all, and ought in fairness to be released--seeing that they had never been tried. This seemed reasonable, but there was the usual delay before doing anything, and in those few days the true explanation came to light. The honourable the governor of the prison was in the habit of letting the gang in question out of the gaol every night, "to go and sleep at their own houses." They returned again before dawn, thus getting the most satisfactory alibi any man could desire; while, in consideration of his complacency, the governor was taking half their plunder! It is true that this official was dismissed from his post in consequence, but apparently he received no further penalty of any sort.

This may, perhaps, sound a "tough yarn"; yet we may find a fairly recent parallel for it in England. The memoirs of William Hickey record an even worse scandal of one of the London bailiffs in the latter half of the eighteenth century. Our boasted superiority to this sort of thing is of very recent date, and perhaps will not be of very long duration.

The Governor-General or Vali, who ruled this city of confusion and corruption, was perhaps as good a man as could have been selected for a job where his powerlessness to effect any real improvement would have broken the heart of anyone who still had any enthusiasms or delusions left.

Tahir Pasha was an Albanian by blood, though he had grown grey in the Sultan's service, and had certainly never seen his own mountains since boyhood. Still, "once an Arnaut, always an Arnaut," and, as a general rule, men of that very striking race are the best possible Ottoman officials; particularly in places where their duty is (or is supposed to be) the preservation of an even balance between the various Christian and Mussulman races.

It is impossible for an Arnaut to despise all Christians just because of their religion; for a large proportion of his own race are of that creed, and it is an axiom that every Arnaut is congenitally superior to every other specimen of manhood. That being so, he may despise all his subjects equally (and very probably does so), but at least he does not despise any one set specially, and there is always a chance of his doing some justice among them.

And this Tahir Pasha did, to the limits of his not very extensive power. He had no great belief in Reform, or for that matter in anything else (except the straightness of certain English gentlemen whom he knew, and in the genius of his favourite hero, Admiral Nelson): and he held shrewdly that "you cannot build very high, when your bricks are made of wet mud"--and of Mosul slime at that he might have added, though he did not say so in words. Still, under his rule nobody's lot was intolerable if it was impossible for anybody to be really comfortable; and he had absolutely nothing to learn in the art of keeping a simmering province from boiling over, when the Government had no force to back its orders, and did not wish to have any open row. He was an elderly man, tall and portly; with a "short" face, framed in a close-cropped, white beard, and a shrewd and humorous expression. Nature had given him a most attractive manner; and by virtue of it he had survived two revolutions in the country, being the only man of his rank to do so. When things went amiss, "he sat on the stile and continued to smile," and almost always found that the method softened the heart of the most furious of cows.

Further, he was singularly cleanhanded, as Ottoman officials go. Even those who declared that he took bribes in his youth admitted that he refused them in his old age--"unless they were very big," they added. Well, for the bribes, what is an official to do, whose salary, is in the first place, wholly inadequate; and in the second, not paid? When he did not need them, he ceased to take them. "How otherwise? I liked him, I confess," as Browning put it, of a character that much resembled the old Albanian; whose name (by the way) is, being interpreted, "Innocent," and who had the reputation throughout his province of never sending a petitioner away dissatisfied, and yet of never making a promise that it was inconvenient to keep.

Moreover, there were times when Tahir Pasha could insist on justice; and the fact is rare in Turkey. In 1910 a particularly dastardly murder was committed in Mosul, the murderer being a Christian by race, a member of the "Chaldaean" or "Uniat Nestorian" Church; while the victim was of the older and independent Nestorian body.[38] The murderer was, most deservedly, sentenced to death; but that does not at all necessarily imply execution in Turkey. To begin with, Ottoman law lays it down that in a murder case the next of kin of the victim has the right to require the remission of the death sentence if he desires it. This is no doubt a relic of the days when every man could avenge or forgo his own quarrels as he chose; but in practice, it works out very inconveniently for the man in question, who, in addition to losing his own nearest relative, has to undergo a lot of "peaceable persuasion" from the murderer's relations, till he chooses to exercise the right. In this case, however, the next of kin, also a Nestorian, stood firm, and claimed his legal revenge.

On this the murderer showed the real depth of his Christianity by sending word to Tahir Pasha that if his life were spared he would turn Moslem. Whether the Mollahs were desirous of obtaining so doubtful a convert does not appear, but at least the Pasha was not eager.

"Of course, I am bound to be glad that he proposes to turn Moslem," he said grimly. "It may even be better for him in the next world. Still, his head has got to come off in this."

But now a third difficulty arose, from the fact that the lawful executioner refused to act. Like Koko in "The Mikado," this _Monsieur de Strasbourg_ declared that he "had never cut off a gentleman's head in his life, and did not know how it was done." Under these circumstances, there was nothing for it but to call for a volunteer; and another relative of the murdered man generously offered to do his best, if they would lend him a sabre. "You had better do your best," said some official, "for if you fetch the head off with one chop you shall have thirty pounds, but if it takes a second blow you go to prison for five years!" Under this stimulus the amateur executioner did his part to admiration, and took the head off finely.

Even so there was an afterpiece to the play, for many folk made the conduct of this murderer a ground for a most unfair attack on the Patriarch of the Chaldaean Church, saying, "Now we see what sort of Christian Mar Immanuel trains." The retort that his Grace made, if not exactly scrupulous, was at least effective. Ignoring the offer to turn Moslem altogether, he declared, "Pupil of mine? He certainly was, and I am proud of him. He is a Christian martyr, for he would not have been executed if it had not been for that wicked Nestorian heretic!" And he cited in proof of his saintliness the "miraculous" light above the grave.

The light was there certainly, a form of phosphorescence that is seen at times above a fresh grave in that dry air, and which is usually taken as a proof of the sanctity of the occupant. We suppose that we may be thankful that this rather doubtful character was not enrolled among the saints.

It will be inferred from the foregoing incident that religion in Mosul is of a somewhat militant type. It is in fact one of the most fanatical towns in the empire; and was surely the only place where men wept openly in the streets on hearing of the deposition of Abdul Hamid, and exclaimed, "Now is the pillar of Islam fallen."

The establishment of a British Consulate there, after a long interregnum, was either the cause or excuse for an outbreak. Certain Dervishes fastened on the fact that the flagstaff on the Consulate was higher than the crescent on the dome of a certain tomb, called the tomb of Cassim, where a descendant of the Prophet was interred. It was, of course, intolerable that the accursed red-cross flag should flaunt itself above the crescent, and a mob assembled at the Consul's gates, shouting under the leadership of a Dervish of some fame, "O Fatima, Fatima, daughter of the Prophet, will you not avenge the shame of your descendant?"

Rather strangely it had never occurred to them to resent the fact that a Christian Church had been standing higher than the tomb for centuries; yet the Consulate was in fact an empty monastery, rented from the authorities of the "Jacobite" Church by its present occupier.

Of course, the British official respects the monastic churches, which number two; and they are used for service on certain festal days.

As for the tomb which caused the _emeute_; if Fatima, or somebody else, does not see to it soon, it will disappear into the Tigris, on the bank of which river it stands. The current is eating into the bank under its foundations, and the whole fabric is leaning over dangerously. Its fall would be a loss, for it is a fine specimen of Arab architecture; and besides, the British Consul would be blamed. Obviously, the cause of the disaster will be Cassim's desire to be rid of such bad company.

As a city Mosul is singularly well be-bishoped. No fewer than three Roman Catholic prelates exercise jurisdiction in it over their various flocks; and there is, in addition, at least one "Jacobite" bishop; one Nestorian (who is at present in exile on the charge that his presence is a cause of disturbance to other people), and sundry Armenian, Greek, and Anglican Christians who render obedience to none of the resident bishops at all. The facts will bear a word of explanation; particularly as the existence of more than one Roman Catholic bishop in one diocese seems strangely contradictory to the discipline of that Church elsewhere.

In the days of the Byzantine Empire the attempt to enforce Greek uniformity on all nations resulted in various national stocks (Syrian, Armenian, and Egyptian, for instance) adopting any "heresy" that chanced to be on the tapis, as a protest against what they regarded as "Greek dictation." While the dispute, both doctrinal and national, was still being fought out, the great Mussulman invasions began; and the nationalities in question cheerfully accepted the Mohammedan rule, which gave to them a religious freedom which the Greek Christian Empire had denied. The Arab, and the Turk who followed him, were perfectly willing to see their Christian subjects divided as much as they liked; and recognized the Armenian, Syrian, Chaldaean, and Coptic nations as "_millets_" in their empire; a "_millet_" being the technical term for a subject nation of Christians, organized (as they always were) in a church, under their own hierarchy of Patriarch, bishops, and clergy. Thus these various national churches, all called heretical by both Greeks and Latins, continued to exist under Turkish rule.

In the later days of the Turkish Empire Roman Catholic missions brought education to these Christians; and the Roman Church allowed such portions of these old national churches as could be brought to submit to papal supremacy, to retain their own hierarchy, and their ancient services, expurgated to some extent. All these "Uniat" or "reconciled" bodies are, of course, subject to the Pope, but their members do not, normally, communicate with one another. Historically, one rejoices at the preservation of so many ancient rites and bodies, and the method was sound policy also from the point of view of the proselytizing agents of the Roman Church; for both Nestorian and Jacobite might both be brought to acknowledge the supremacy of a distant Pope, if that Pope's agents had somewhat to give in the way of protection or education, but neither could ever be brought to associate with "that other" whose tenets his church existed to repudiate.

Thus, with sound prudence, rules about diocesan jurisdiction that hold elsewhere are dropped in the Middle East; and Mosul boasts at least three Roman Catholic bishops, namely, a Chaldaean or "Nestorian Uniat"[39] Patriarch, with several bishops under him; a Syrian Catholic or "Jacobite Uniat"[39a] bishop, subordinate to the Patriarch of that church at Beyrout; and an "Apostolic Delegate," or Papal Legate, who exercises a general superintendence over all Roman Catholic bishops in Mesopotamia, but has direct spiritual jurisdiction over only the handful of Frenchmen who reside actually in Mosul, and any other "Christian of the Latin rite" who may chance to come that way.

There is also a strong colony of Jews in the city, still living in their ancient quarter; where they have lived, they say (with every appearance of truth), since Sargon of Assyria brought their ancestors from captured Samaria in the eighth century B.C. Like all of their kind they are traders, for the place is a centre of local trade. Still, most of the wares in the market, other than raw material like wool and oak-galls, come originally from Manchester or Reading; and one doubts if it would still be possible to find in Mosul any of that fine "muslin" which has carried the name of the city over all the world.

One branch of the local export trade to which we may refer is that in liquorice, a plant that grows wild freely on the plain. The fact that European merchants were anxious to buy it caused much wonderment; but presently the real explanation got known and was accepted by everybody. "King George of England likes nothing so much as sucking liquorice; and he has sent twenty-five millions of English sovereigns to secure a supply that shall last him all his life."

On the left bank of the Tigris, opposite to Mosul, lies Nineveh, and the one place is approached from the other by a bridge that is thoroughly characteristic of Turkey; it goes, that is to say, some two-thirds of the way over the river, crossing just that part of the bed which is dry for most of the year. As the real channel is approached, the bridge stops abruptly, and a series of pontoon-like barges takes the place of it. This bridge of boats is itself removed in flood-time, and the traveller may then, given good luck, get over in the course of an hour, with the help of a very clumsy ferry-boat. Bridges, it may be said, are regarded in Turkey rather as natural impediments to travel than as assistants to it; and the fact that "there are bridges on that road" is always made an excuse for asking twice the usual fare for a carriage.

The bridge of boats at Mosul is civic property; and is hired out annually to anyone who will farm it, for a very substantial sum. The lessee is expected to keep the whole bridge in order, and charges a toll on every man or animal that crosses the bridge.

Nominally the rent of the bridge is spent, of course, upon the needs of the city, and is handed over to the administrative council for that end. Still, when a city has no pavements or lamps or drainage, or any of the numerous unnecessary things that the West indulges in because it has more money than it knows what to do with, after all it has no needs.

A city, too, is composed of citizens, argue the councillors; and what is spent for the needs of worthy citizens is, in a sense, spent for the benefit of the city; and what citizens can be worthier than those who toil daily at the administrative council for the benefit of their fellows? So the bridge rent is spent on those worthy objects; and as yet nobody has raised any other objection than that he was himself left out of the sharing of the plunder. What the narrow-minded Western calls corruption will not cease till public opinion condemns it; and what passes for public opinion in Turkish provinces now can imagine no other way of getting anything done.

Musing thus on problems of municipal reform we cross the bridge and ride over the mile or so of flat foreshore, that now separates the river from the walls of Nineveh. Once the Tigris washed the base of Koyunjik, the site of Sennacherib's palace, and formed an impregnable barrier against all assaults from that side, but the day dawned at last of which an old prophecy had spoken, when the river joined the besiegers, and betrayed the city to its foes. A great flood swept away the walls, leaving wide breaches all along the frontage; and as the waters subsided, lo the river had cut a new channel, and the whole of the side which it had guarded lay completely open to attack.

Wherefore King Sardanapalus (who was not Assurbanipal, but a successor of his named Sinsariskun) gathered together all his treasure and his wives and his children, and died as a king should die, in the flames of his own palace.

Nineveh fell in the year 608 B.C., overthrown by Cyaxares, the king of the Medes, and his better known ally, Nabopolassar, the father of Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon. She had been hard pressed more than once before, but had triumphed eventually over each successive peril. The ultimate explanation of this final overthrow was indeed nothing more or less than the exhaustion caused by generations of conquest. There were no true Assyrians left--only a half-bred race, the fruit of incessant inter-marriages; and when they succumbed, they had no power of recuperation. "Nineveh is laid waste, who shall bemoan her? Her people is scattered upon the mountains, and no man gathereth them."

There is but little above ground at Nineveh now. The long walls remain, looking much like derelict railway embankments; and the great moat, fifty yards in width, and twenty feet deep, into which the waters of the river Khozr could be turned at will, still girdles the city round. Sunk as it is in conglomerate rock, this moat is a monument of patient labour. Of the two great mounds where the King's palaces stood, Koyunjik and Nebi Yunus, the former and larger has probably yielded the last of its important secrets to the British Museum. It is well, however, to remember that the same was said of Karnak, in Egypt, and the richest of all finds have come to light there since then. You can never be sure that you have got all that is in a mound, till, _more fossorum Germanicorum_, you have passed the whole of it through a fine sieve.

Still, the search has been fairly thorough. The excavators however, left one of the great human-headed bulls above ground; and it may be of interest to record that this monument (which was presumably the property of the British Museum) first generously parted with its head to mend a mill; and was subsequently sold for the sum of three shillings and six pence by the Vali of Mosul (not worthy old Tahir Pasha, but his predecessor), and burnt into lime by its purchaser.

The second mound, Nebi Yunus--alas, one can but gnash one's teeth in envy and anger when one knows that the favourite palace of Esarhaddon lies beneath it--that king whose smaller house elsewhere has yielded the finest specimens of Assyrian art yet known. And this, his _chef d'oeuvre_, cannot be examined, because of the mosque of Nebi Yunus (Jonah the Prophet) that stands in the midst of the Turkoman village that crowns it. The Prophet will be very angry if you disturb him, say the Mussulmans, and will take vengeance dire![40] If it were indeed Jonah that lies there, there might be something in the argument; for the Prophet is known to have had a temper. But it is not he. After all, seeing that his prophecy of the destruction of Nineveh was not fulfilled, the top of the mound that covers the ruins of the city is perhaps the one spot of earth where it is quite impossible for him to be buried! As a matter of fact, the mosque is an old Nestorian church, once the cathedral of that body in the days when their independent patriarchate was in Mosul; and the occupant of the tomb is John the Lame, a worthy Patriarch of the thirteenth century, who now gets compensation for a life of hardship in his posthumous honours as Jewish Prophet and Mussulman Saint.

Mar John the Lame was a friend to knowledge and learning in his life; and it must be a real annoyance to the good old man to think that his corpse has been made into an obstacle to both of them now that he has done with it!

Only one of the treasures of the palace has ever come to light, viz. a pair of bronze oxen, found in the process of cleaning out the well in the court of the mosque. These "idols" were promptly melted down; and they now, in the form of a window grating, keep thieves from a gentleman's house in Mosul.

The old order is changing in Mosul as elsewhere; or will change when the Baghdad Railway comes and brings light and sanitation into its picturesque corruption. The domination of the present governing clique will go, and one hopes that something better will take its place. Will whatever happens to come be a real improvement on the open bribery of Sabonji, and the humorous tolerance of Tahir Pasha? Some things will mend. The small merchant, for instance, will no longer be made to buy his stock from the local member of the administrative council; and warned that if he dares to import for himself from Aleppo, that caravan, at any rate, will not pass the Shammar Arabs. The youthful heroes of that tribe will no longer be told by the old men "in the good old days of our fathers, a young fellow had to kill his lion before he thought himself man enough to take a wife. Now you must, at any rate, rob a caravan." All that will be to the good. Still, the experience of towns like Beyrout and Smyrna suggests that, after all, the known evils of the East may be preferable to the unknown crop that will spring from a confusion of East and West.