Part 10

Having traversed a succession of small desert plains, sprinkled with Egyptian flints, they entered a valley bounded on both sides by hills, composed entirely of oyster-shells, which rest on a bed of reddish clay. Of these shells the uppermost remain in their original state, while those which lie deeper, or are scattered over the plain, are petrified. On arriving at Tamish, the most northern village of the district, the kasheff, or governor, was met by several Arabs, who, observing him to be accompanied by a stranger, immediately began to exhibit their skill in horsemanship, and in the management of the lance. Here the quality of their fare improved. The onions were replaced by pilaus, roast lamb, fowl, soup, and sherbets; and in the morning they had for breakfast bread and butter, poached eggs, honey, cheese, and olives. Faioum, in fact, should be the land of good living. It is the Arsinoitic Nome of the ancients, which, in Strabo’s opinion, was the finest spot in all Egypt; and although it no longer, perhaps, deserves this character, it still produces corn, wine, olives, vegetables,—in one word, whatever they choose to sow or plant will thrive. The olive, which requires cultivation in the gardens of Alexandria, grows spontaneously in this district. The grapes, too, are of a superior quality, and so sweet that a thick syrup made from them serves the Mohammedans instead of sugar. But Pococke soon found that even wine was not an unknown blessing in the Arsinoitic Nome; for, at a supper to which he invited the traveller, the honest kasheff got a little tipsy, threw off his gravity, and behaved as frivolously, says Pococke, as a European.

It was in this canton, according to the ancients, that the Labyrinth of the Twelve Kings was situated, and Pococke, perhaps erroneously, imagined himself to have examined its ruins, from which he proceeded to the shores of Lake Mœris. This lake, the Egyptian priests informed Herodotus, was the creation of art; but observing its extraordinary dimensions, it being no less than fifty miles in length by about ten in breadth, our traveller supposes that the art consisted in the inventing of the tale, and causing it to be believed, which in boldness and ingenuity fell very little short of the actually scooping out of that prodigious basin. But credulity often goes by the side of skepticism. Having rejected as a fable the artificial origin of the lake, Pococke supposes himself to have discovered in an extravagant tradition now current among the Arabs, the basis of the ancient mythus of the Elysian Fields, and the Infernal Ferryman. The common people, he observes, make frequent mention of Charon, and describe him as a king who might have loaded two hundred camels with the keys of his treasury! From this he infers that the fable of Charon took its rise on this spot, and that the person known under this name was the officer intrusted with the keys of the Labyrinth and its three thousand apartments, who, when the corpse of any prince or chief came thither to be interred, made inquiries concerning the actions of his life, and, according as they were good or bad, granted or refused the honours of the tomb. But as the Lake Acherusia, or Acheron, was in the neighbourhood of Memphis, according to Diodorus, he supposes that the same ceremonies were practised at both places, though originating here. Guigniant, a contemporary French writer, supposes that the ruins discovered by Pococke were not those of the Labyrinth, which, in fact, have only recently been found and described by his countrymen Bertre and Jomard.

The original destination of the Labyrinth has not yet been satisfactorily explained: some learned men suppose it to have been a kind of senate-house, where the representatives of the various nomes assembled for political deliberation; others regard it as a real Pantheon, consecrated to the worship of all the gods of Egypt; while a third class insist that, to whatever other uses it may have been applied, its principal object was to afford an asylum to the mummies of the kings who erected it.

Non nostrum tantas componere lites.

However this may be, it seems extremely probable that the idea of the Elysian Fields did actually originate in Egypt, and migrate thence into Greece. Those delicious habitations of the dead, as Creuzer observes after Diodorus, which are spoken of by the Greeks, really existed on the banks of a lake called Acheron, situated in the environs of Memphis, and surrounded by beautiful meadows and cool lakes, and forests of lotus and reeds. These were the waters which were yet to be traversed by the dead who had passed the river, and who were journeying to their sepulchral grottoes in the kingdom of Osiris or Pluto, the Ὅρμος ἀγαθῶν, “haven of the good, the pious, the virtuous,” to which none were admitted whose lives were incapable of sustaining the strictest scrutiny. The heaven of the Egyptians, contrary to what might have been expected, was a place of more complete happiness and enjoyment than that of the Greeks. The very word Elysium, according to Jablonski, signified glory and splendour; but before they could arrive at this region of joy, all human souls were condemned to pass through a circle of transmigrations, greater or less, according to their deeds.

To return, however, to Pococke: From Faioum he returned by Dashone and Saccara to Cairo, from whence he set sail on the 6th of December for Upper Egypt. Having visited various important ruins by the way, he arrived on the 9th of January, 1738, at Dendera, where he found the ruins of the ancient edifices filled with ashes, and the remains of more modern buildings. In fact, the Arabs had perched their miserable little cabins upon the very summit of the temple of Athor-Aphrodite, or the Egyptian Venus, in order to enjoy a cooler air in summer.

From hence he continued to ascend the stream, visited the ruins of Thebes, Elephantina, Philæ, and the Cataracts; whence he returned to Cairo, where he arrived on the 27th of February. It was now his intention to visit Mount Sinai, but finding upon inquiry that the monks of that mountain were then at open war with the neighbouring Arabs, he deferred the excursion, and proceeded down the eastern branch of the Nile to Damietta, where he embarked for the Holy Land.

Pococke arrived at Jaffa on the 14th of March, where, having delivered up his money, according to custom, to the monks, lest he should be robbed by the Arabs, he immediately departed by way of Rama for Jerusalem. The country, at this time, was in a state of great confusion. Feuds of the most desperate kind existed among the numerous Arab clans encamped in this part of Palestine; and from whatever tribe the traveller might take a guide, he necessarily exposed himself during the journey to the hostility of every other horde. However, since the danger was inevitable, and, perhaps, after his tame and secure movements in Egypt, somewhat necessary to give a greater poignancy to his pleasures, he put himself under the guidance of a respectable Arab horseman, followed by a servant on foot, and departed on his way. The Arab, who shared the risk, went a little out of the direct road to the place where his tribe was encamped; and not being subject to that jealousy which induces the Turk to keep his wife from the sight of strangers, he introduced the traveller into his harem, and allowed him to sit down by the fire with his wife and some other women.

It being now evening, the women, having regaled him with bread and coffee, showed him a carpet, on which they desired him to take a little rest. He expected they were to set out in an hour or two in order to reach Jerusalem before day; but lay down, and, falling asleep, remained in that comfortable position until long after sunrise next morning. The Arab now went out and left him in the harem, when the women, who are all the world over generous and hospitable, exerted themselves to entertain and regale him with fresh cakes, butter, and coffee. The mistress of the tent never quitted him for a moment, and while he remained here he was in safety, for the precincts of the harem are sacred in the East. At length the Arab himself returned, and promising him that they should depart in the evening, threw a striped mantle over his shoulders, and went out to walk with him in the fields. Contrary to his expectations, the Arab actually set out with him as soon as it was dark, and carefully avoiding all villages, camps, and inhabited places, in every one of which he anticipated danger, he arrived safely with him at Jerusalem two hours before day.

During his stay in this holy city Pococke visited and examined every remarkable spot within its precincts and environs, and his researches threw considerable light on numerous points of sacred topography. He likewise made an excursion to Jericho and Jordan, and on his return from this journey descended along the banks of the brook Kidron to the Dead Sea. From the number of decayed trees and shrubs which he saw in the water, he conjectured that this lake had recently overflowed its ancient shores, and encroached upon the land. The country in these districts was formerly liable to volcanic eruptions; abounds in warm springs of a powerful odour, and in wells of bitumen, which ooze out of the rocks, and is carried into the sea by the river. It having been asserted by Pliny and others that animals and other heavy bodies floated involuntarily in the water of this sea, Pococke undressed, and made the experiment; and, strange to say, so powerful was the effect of prejudice upon his mind, that he fancied he could not sink in it, and says that when he attempted to dive his legs remained in the air, and having once got the upper hand of his head, gave him considerable trouble to reduce them to their natural subordinate position. However, though he was persuaded, he says, that the result would have been still more striking, his faith in Pliny was not sufficiently powerful to induce him to make the experiment in deep water; which was fortunate, for as, apparently, he could not swim, his travels, had he done so, would have terminated there. On coming out of the sea he found his face covered with a crust of salt, which, he observed, was likewise the case with the pebbles on the shore. The pillar of salt into which Lot’s wife was changed was a little farther south, and therefore he did not see it; but he was assured by the Jews, who seem to have tasted it, that the salt of this pillar is very unwholesome. On this point, however, Pococke merely remarks that he will leave it to the reader to think as he pleases upon the subject.

Having visited all the most remarkable places in this part of Palestine, he returned to Jaffa, where he embarked on the 22d of May on board of a large boat bound for Acra. At this period the sea along the whole coast of Syria was infested by Maltese pirates. By an agreement entered into with the monks of Palestine, these corsairs engaged not to meddle with any of these boats within eighty leagues of the Holy Land; but, in spite of this arrangement, they frequently boarded them, seizing and carrying off into slavery every Mohammedan passenger, and pillaging both Turks and Christians with remarkable impartiality. The vessel in which Pococke was embarked escaped the clutches of these vagabonds, and arrived safe at Acra. From this part he made an excursion into the northern parts of Palestine and Galilee; visited Mount Carmel, Cæsarea, Nazareth, Mount Tabor, Cana, and the Lake of Tiberias; extended his researches to Mount Hermon and the sources of the Jordan; and then, returning to the coast, departed for Tyre, Sidon, and Mount Lebanon.

The mountains in this part of Syria are inhabited by the Maronites and Druzes, people whose manners and customs I shall have occasion to describe in the life of Volney. Pococke’s stay among them was short, and his occasions of observing them few, but the result of his limited experience was favourable; for he pronounces the Maronites more simple and less addicted to intrigue than the other Christians of the East, and for courage and probity prefers the Druzes, who are neither Christians nor Mohammedans, before every other oriental people. Nevertheless it is conjectured that the latter are the descendants of the Christian armies who were engaged in the crusades. They themselves profess, according to our traveller, to be descended from the English; at other times they claim a French origin; and the probability is that they know not who were their ancestors. Like the Yezeedees of Mesopotamia, they are sometimes compelled to dissemble their incredulity and frequent the mosques; but Pococke learned that in their secret books they blasphemed both Christ and Mohammed. This hypocrisy is not altogether consistent with their character either for courage or probity. They had among them a sort of monks called _akel_, who abstained from wine, and refused to sit at their prince’s table lest they should participate in the guilt of his extortions. These men Pococke regards rather as philosophers, however, than as monks. Their religion, if they had any, consisted in the worship of nature; and from their veneration for the calf, the lingam, and the yoni, the figures of which they were said to preserve in a small silver box, I should conjecture that both they and their religion are an offshoot from the great Brahminical trunk; and the same thing may with equal probability be said of the Yezeedees, the Ismaelaah, and the Nessariah, whose doctrines had found their way into the west, and caused the founding of altars to the yoni in Cyprus long before the birth of history.

Our traveller continued his researches among the rude tribes who inhabit the fastnesses of Lebanon, visited the cedars, Baalbec (where he found the body of a murdered man in the temple), Damascus, Horus, and Aleppo; and having made an excursion across the Euphrates to Orfah, returned by way of Antioch and Scanderoon to Tripoli, where he embarked on the 24th of October for Cyprus.

On approaching Limesol from the sea, its environs, consisting entirely of vineyards, and gardens planted with mulberry-trees, and interspersed with villas, present a charming landscape to the eye. The wines for which the island is celebrated are all made here. In Cyprus what principally interests the traveller are the footsteps of antiquity; he seeks for little else. The temples and worship of Venus, hallowed, if not spiritualized, by poetry, have diffused a glow over the soil which neither time nor barbarism, potent as is their influence, has been able to dissipate. The heart thrills and the pulse quickens at the very names of Paphos and Amathus. A thousand pens have celebrated their beauty: Love has waved his wings over them. Pococke seems, however, notwithstanding his passion for beholding celebrated places, to have visited these scenes with as much coolness as he would a turnip-field.

Non equidem invideo: miror magis.

He remarks, indeed, that it was from this city that Venus acquired the epithet of _Amathusia_; that a temple was here erected in honour of her and Adonis; and that the ruins of the city walls are fifteen feet thick. But is this all? Wherefore are we not presented with a picture of the landscape around the spot? Is it soft, is it beautiful, like the goddess who was worshipped there?

Tacitus informs us that the temple which stood here was erected by Amathus, son of King Aërias; and Servius and Macrobius observe that the statue of the goddess was double-natured and bearded, though clothed in female garments. The sexes changed dresses on entering the fane; and during the mysteries instituted by Cinyras, salt, money, and the symbol of the productive power of nature were presented to the initiated.

Proceeding eastward along the shore from Amathus, the traveller visited Larnica, the ruins of Cittium, the birthplace of the philosopher Zeno; Famagosta, the ruins of Salamis; and turning the eastern point of the island, returned by Nicosia, Soli, and Arsinoe to Paphos. With the traditions of this place one of the most remarkable fables of antiquity is connected; for it was here that Venus, born among the foam of the sea, was wafted on shore by the zephyrs,—“deamque ipsam, conceptam mari, huc appulsam,” says Tacitus. However, modern mythologists have maintained that it was not the Grecian but the Assyrian goddess, that is, the celestial Venus, who was worshipped at Paphos. No effigies of the goddess adorned this fane; but a cone or white pyramid, that mystic emblem to which I have had frequent occasion to allude, was the object of adoration. This emblematical manner of representing the gods was common in remote antiquity, and Venus herself was thus symbolically depicted on the coin of the Chalcidians.

Pococke observes that the ladies of Cyprus still keep up in every sense the worship of their ancient goddess, and even go at Whitsuntide in procession along the seashore in commemoration of the time of her birth. They wear no veils, and their dress, in his opinion, is exactly such as priestesses of the Idalian goddess should be distinguished by.

Having satisfied his curiosity respecting Cyprus, he returned to Egypt for the purpose of visiting Mount Sinai, and tracing the track of the Israelites through the wilderness; and when he had accomplished this design, which he did with little difficulty or danger, he proceeded to Alexandria, and embarked for Crete. Every person is aware of the prodigious celebrity which this island enjoyed among the ancients. It was the great stepping-stone which facilitated the passage of civilization from Asia into Greece. Here Jupiter was cradled, and Minos, the prototype of Lycurgus, legislated for a barbarous people whom he endeavoured by extraordinary, and sometimes by terrible and criminal regulations, to accustom and be fit to bear the yoke of government.

Pococke disembarked at Sphakia; and in crossing the island to Canea, the ancient Cydonia, traversed an extraordinary pass called _Ebros Farange_, where the road is flanked on both sides by lofty rocks which spring up perpendicularly, and are crowned at their summit by a profusion of shrubs and trees, such as the cypress, the fig-tree, and the evergreen oak. This pass is nearly six miles in length, and so difficult of ascent that towards the inland extremity travellers are compelled to dismount from their beasts and climb the acclivity on foot. A chain of mountains which runs almost parallel with the shores occupies the centre of this part of the island. They were known to the ancients under the name of the “White Mountains.” On the summit of the northern branch there is a small circular valley, in which the winter rains form a number of diminutive lakes, which add exceedingly to the charms of the scene, and where, according to the inhabitants, there grows a species of auriferous plant that communicates a golden colour to the teeth of the sheep which feed upon it. Among the smaller chains, which branch off from the main ridge of mountains towards the north, there are several valleys of remarkable beauty.

After having remained a short time at Canea, Pococke set out to make the tour of the island. His researches, though conducted with haste, throw much light on the ancient geography of the land of Minos; but of all the places which he visited none possess so powerful an interest as Mount Ida, where, as he observes, it is exceedingly probable that Jupiter passed his early youth in hunting and martial exercises. In the centre, or somewhat to the south of a vast cluster of mountains, rises the extremely lofty peak of Ida, composed of successive strata of gray marble, and rendered peculiarly difficult of ascent by detached blocks of stone scattered over its sides. Though considerably less elevated than Mount Lebanon or the Alps, the snow lies all the year round unmelted in several cavities near the summit, upon the very apex of which a church has been erected. Here, in clear weather, the traveller enjoys one of the most magnificent panoramic views in the world. Nearly the whole island lies within the range of the eye; and looking across the sea towards the north, he discovers in the distant horizon several islands of the Archipelago rising beautifully out of the waves.

From Candia he proceeded to Scio, Ipsara, Metelin, Tenedos, Lemnos, Samos, and Patmos, and then passed over to the continent to Smyrna. Here those traces of antiquity which formed the principal objects of his inquiries surrounded him on all sides. Not an excursion could be made without encountering the ruins or the site of some city renowned in poetry or history. Every river, every stream had some glorious association attached to it, from the Meles, on which Homer is sometimes supposed to have been born, to the Cayster and Mæander, celebrated in his poems. Pococke, it should be remarked, with all his admiration for antiquity, had not suffered much of the spirit of Greek poetry to penetrate into his soul; though he might as a man of the world avoid alluding to trite and hackneyed fables, this will not in all cases account for his omitting all mention of remarkable mythi. When encamped, for example, at night round a large fire on the summit of Mount Latmus in Caria, fearing an irruption of jackals and wild boars, he seems to have thrown himself to sleep upon his huge block of granite without once recalling to mind that it was on that wild spot Endymion was visited nightly by the moon. He observes, however, that the shepherds who have succeeded Endymion on this mountain have begun to cultivate a portion of its summit, and to enclose their fields with large trunks of trees disposed as pallisades.

Following up the course of the Mæander he entered the Greater Phrygia, proceeded thence to Galatia, and, turning to the north, took the road through the ancient Paphlagonia and Bithynia towards Constantinople. Here he entered into numerous inquiries respecting the religion and manners of the Turks; and then, descending the Dardanelles, embarked at Lemnos for Mount Athos in Macedonia. This mountain, it is well known, has for ages served as a retreat to numerous monks and hermits, who retire thither from the world to conceal their chagrin at being shut out by more fortunate or more persevering individuals from the participation of its more refined pleasures. There were at this period about forty hermitages situated in a semicircular sweep of the mountain. Some of the gloomy tenants of these cells were poor persons, who subsisted by their own labour, or on the bread and cheese bestowed upon them by the convents in the neighbourhood; and their amusement consisted in carving images or making wooden spoons. Pococke found them employed in drying figs, walnuts, and grapes, and learned that they made a little wine and brandy for their own use, which, I hope, occasionally enabled them to forget their cares. To complete their misery, no women were ever permitted to enter their territories.