Part 4

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.

Behold it at last, the bourn of long and weary travel, realising the plans and hopes of many and many a year! This, then, is the kibbal, or direction, towards which every Moslem has turned in prayer since the days of Mohammed, and which for long ages before the birth of Christianity was reverenced by the patriarchs of the East.

No wonder that the scene is one of the wildest excitement! Here are worshippers clinging to the curtain and sobbing as though their hearts would break; here some poor wretch with arms thrown high, so that his beating breast may touch the stone of the house, appears ready to faint, and there men prostrate themselves on the pavement, rubbing their foreheads against the stones, shedding floods of tears, and pouring forth frenzied ejaculations. The most careless, indeed, never contemplate it for the first time without fear and awe. There is a popular jest against new-comers that in the presence of the Kaabah they generally inquire the direction of prayer, although they have all their lives been praying towards it as the early Christian fronted Jerusalem.

But we must look more critically at the celebrated shrine.

The word Kaabah means a cube, a square, a _maison carrée_. It is called Bayt Ullah (House of God) because according to the Koran it is “certainly the first temple erected for mankind.” It is also known as the “Bride of Meccah,” probably from the old custom of typifying the Church Visible by a young married woman――hence probably its face-veil, its covering, and its guard of eunuchs. Externally it is a low tower of fine grey granite laid in horizontal courses of irregular depth; the stones are tolerably fitted, and are not cemented. It shows no signs of decay, and indeed, in its present form, it dates only from 1627. The shape is rather a trapezoid than a square, being forty feet long by thirty-five broad and forty-five high, the flat roof having a cubit of depression from south-west to north-east, where a gold or gilt spout discharges the drainage. The foundation is a marble base two feet high, and presents a sharp inclined plane.

All the Kaabah except the roof is covered with a kiswatu garment. It is a pall-like hanging, the work of a certain family at Cairo, and annually renewed. The ground is dully black, and Koranic verses interwoven into it are shining black. There is a door curtain of gold thread upon red silk, and a bright band of similar material, called the face-veil of the house, two feet broad, runs horizontally round the Kaabah at two-thirds of its height. This covering when new is tucked up by ropes from the roof; when old it is fastened to large metal rings welded into the basement of the building. When this peculiar adjunct to the shrine is swollen and moved by the breeze, pious Moslems believe that angels are waving their wings over it.

The only entrance to the Kaabah is a narrow door of aloe wood, in the eastern side. It is now raised seven feet, and one enters it hoisted up in men’s arms. In A.D. 686, when the whole building took its present shape, it was level with the external ground. The Kaabah opens gratis ten or twelve times a year, when crowds rush in and men lose their lives. Wealthy pilgrims obtain the favour by paying for it. Scrupulous Moslems do not willingly enter it, as they may never afterwards walk about barefooted, take up fire with their fingers, or tell lies. It is not every one who can afford such luxuries as slippers, tongs, and truth. Nothing is simpler than the interior of the building. The walls are covered with handsome red damask, flowered over with gold, tucked up beyond the pilgrim’s reach. The flat roof apparently rests upon three posts of carved and ornamented aloe wood.

Between the three pillars, and about nine feet from the ground, run metal bars, to which hang lamps, said to be gold. At the northern corner there is a dwarf door; it leads into a narrow passage and to the dwarf staircase by which the servants ascend to the roof. In the south-eastern corner is a quadrant-shaped sofa, also of aloe wood, and on it sits the guardian of the shrine.

The Hajar el Aswad, or black stone, of which all the world talks, is fixed in the south-eastern angle outside the house, between four and five feet from the ground, the more conveniently to be kissed. It shows a black and slaggy surface, glossy and pitch-like, worn and polished by myriads of lips; its diameter is about seven inches, and it appears only in the central aperture of a gilt or gold dish. The depth to which it extends into the wall is unknown: most people say two cubits.

Believers declare, with poetry, if not with reason, that in the day of Atast, when Allah made covenant concerning the souls that animate the sons of Adam, the instrument was placed in a fragment of the lower heaven, then white as snow, now black by reason of men’s sins. The rationalistic infidel opines this sacred corner-stone to be a common aerolite, a remnant of the stone-worship which considered it the symbol of power presiding over universal reproduction, and inserted by Mohammed into the edifice of El Islam. This relic has fared ill; it has been stolen and broken, and has suffered other accidents.

Another remarkable part of the Kaabah is that between the door and the black stone. It is called the multazem, or “attached to,” because here the pilgrim should apply his bosom, weep bitterly, and beg pardon for his sins. In ancient times, according to some authors, it was the place for contracting solemn engagements.

The pavement which surrounds the Kaabah is about eight inches high, and the inside is marked by an oval balustrade of some score and a half of slender gilt metal pillars. Between every two of these cross rods support oil lamps, with globes of white and green glasses. Gas is much wanted at Meccah! At the north end, and separated by a space of about five feet from the building, is El Hatrim, or the “broken,” a dwarf semi-circular wall, whose extremities are on a line with the sides of the Kaabah. In its concavity are two slabs of a finer stone, which cover the remains of Ishmael, and of his mother Hagar. The former, I may be allowed to remark, is regarded by Moslems as the eldest son and legitimate successor of Abraham, in opposition to the Jews, who prefer Isaac, the child of Sarai the free woman. It is an old dispute and not likely to be soon settled.

Besides the Kaabah, ten minor structures dot the vast quadrangle. The most important is the massive covering of the well Zemzem. The word means “the murmuring,” and here the water gushed from the ground where the child Ishmael was shuffling his feet in the agonies of thirst. The supply is abundant, but I found it nauseously bitter; its external application, however, when dashed like a douche over the pilgrim, causes sins to fall from his soul like dust.

On the south-east, and near the well, are the Kubbatayn, two domes crowning heavy ugly buildings, vulgarly painted with red, green, and yellow bands; one of these domes is used as a library. Directly opposite the Kaabah door is a short ladder or staircase of carved wood, which is wheeled up to the entrance door on the rare occasions when it is opened. North of it is the inner Bab El Salam, or Gate of Security, under which the pilgrims pass in their first visit to the shrine. It is a slightly built and detached arch of stone, about fifteen feet of space in width and eighteen in height, somewhat like our meaningless triumphal arches, which come from no place and go nowhere. Between this and the Kaabah stands the Makam Ibraham, or Station of Abraham, a small building containing the stone which supported the Friend of Allah when he was building the house. It served for a scaffold, rising and falling of itself as required, and it preserved the impressions of Abraham’s feet, especially of the two big toes. Devout and wealthy pilgrims fill the cavities with water, which they rub over their eyes and faces with physical as well as spiritual refreshment. To the north of it is a fine white marble pulpit with narrow steps leading to the preacher’s post, which is supported by a gilt and sharply tapering steeple. Lastly, opposite the northern, the western, and the south-eastern sides of the Kaabah, stand three ornamental pavilions, with light sloping roofs resting on slender pillars. From these the representatives of the three orthodox schools direct the prayers of their congregations. The Shafli, or fourth branch, collect between the corner of the well Zemzem and the Station of Abraham, whilst the heretical sects lay claim to certain mysterious and invisible places of reunion.

I must now describe what the pilgrims do.

Entering with the boy Mohammed, who acted as my mutawwif, or circuit guide, we passed through the inner Gate of Security, uttering various religious formulas, and we recited the usual two-prostration prayer in honour of the mosque at the Shafli place of worship. We then proceeded to the angle of the house, in which the black stone is set, and there recited other prayers before beginning tawaf, or circumambulation. The place was crowded with pilgrims, all males――women rarely appear during the hours of light. Bareheaded and barefooted they passed the giant pavement, which, smooth as glass and hot as sun can make it, surrounds the Kaabah, suggesting the idea of perpetual motion. Meccans declare that at no time of the day or night is the place ever wholly deserted.

Circumambulation consists of seven shauts, or rounds, of the house, to which the left shoulder is turned, and each noted spot has its peculiar prayers. The three first courses are performed at a brisk trot, like the French _pas gymnastique_. The four latter are leisurely passed. The origin of this custom is variously accounted for. The general idea is that Mohammed directed his followers thus to show themselves strong and active to the infidels, who had declared them to have been weakened by the air of El Medinah.

When I had performed my seven courses I fought my way through the thin-legged host of Bedouins, and kissed the black stone, rubbing my hands and forehead upon it. There were some other unimportant devotions, which concluded with a douche at the well Zemzem, and with a general almsgiving. The circumambulation ceremony is performed several times in the day, despite the heat. It is positive torture.

The visit to the Kaabah, however, does not entitle a man to be called haji. The essence of pilgrimage is to be present at the sermon pronounced by the preacher on the Holy Hill of Arafat, distant about twelve miles from, and to the east of, Meccah. This performed even in a state of insensibility is valid, and to die by the roadside is martyrdom, saving all the pains and penalties of the tomb.

The visit, however, must be paid on the 8th, 9th, and the 10th of the month Zu’l Hijjah (the Lord of Pilgrimage), the last month of the Arab year. At this time there is a great throb through the framework of Moslem society from Gibraltar to Japan, and those who cannot visit the Holy City content themselves with prayers and sacrifices at home. As the Moslem computation is lunar, the epoch retrocedes through the seasons in thirty-three years. When I visited Meccah, the rites began on September 12th and ended on September 14th, 1853. In 1863 the opening day was June 8th; the closing, June 10th.

My readers will observe that the modern pilgrimage ceremonies of the Moslem are evidently a commemoration of Abraham and his descendants. The practices of the Father of the Faithful when he issued from the land of Chaldea seem to have formed a religious standard in the mind of the Arab law-giver, who preferred Abraham before all the other prophets, himself alone excepted.

The day after our arrival at Meccah was the Yaum El Tarwiyah (the Day of Carrying Water), the first of the three which compose the pilgrimage season proper. From the earliest dawn the road was densely thronged with white-robed votaries, some walking, others mounted, and all shouting “Labbayk!” with all their might. As usual the scene was one of strange contrasts. Turkish dignitaries on fine horses, Bedouins bestriding swift dromedaries, the most uninteresting soldiery, and the most conspicuous beggars. Before nightfall I saw no less than five exhausted and emaciated devotees give up the ghost and become “martyrs.”

The first object of interest lies on the right-hand side of the road. This was a high conical hill, known in books as Tebel Hora, but now called Tebel Nur, or Mountain of Light, because there Mohammed’s mind was first illuminated. The Cave of Revelation is still shown. It looks upon a wild scene. Eastward and southward the vision is limited by abrupt hills. In the other directions there is a dreary landscape, with here and there a stunted acacia or a clump of brushwood growing on rough ground, where stony glens and valleys of white sand, most of them water-courses after the rare rains, separate black, grey, and yellow rocks.

Passing over El Akabah (the Steeps), an important spot in classical Arab history, we entered Muna, a hot hollow three or four miles from the barren valley of Meccah. It is a long, narrow, straggling village of mud and stone houses, single storied and double storied, built in the common Arab style. We were fated to see it again. At noon we passed Mugdalifah, or the Approacher, known to El Islam as the Minaret without the Mosque, and thus distinguished from a neighbouring building, the Mosque without the Minaret. There is something peculiarly impressive in the tall, solitary, tower springing from the desolate valley of gravel. No wonder that the old Arab conquerors loved to give the high-sounding name of this oratory to distant points in their extensive empire!

Here, as we halted for the noon prayer, the Damascus caravan appeared in all its glory. The mahmal, or litter, sent by the Sultan to represent his presence, no longer a framework as on the line of march, now flashed in the sun all gold and green, and the huge white camel seemed to carry it with pride. Around the moving host of peaceful pilgrims hovered a crowd of mounted Bedouins armed to the teeth. These people often visit Arafat for blood revenge; nothing can be more sacrilegious than murder at such a season, but they find the enemy unprepared. As their draperies floated in the wind and their faces were swathed and veiled with their head-kerchiefs, it was not always easy to distinguish the sex of the wild beings who hurried past at speed. The women were unscrupulous, and many were seen emulating the men in reckless riding, and in striking with their sticks at every animal in their way.

Presently, after safely threading the gorge called the pass of the Two Rugged Hills, and celebrated for accidents, we passed between the two “signs”――whitewashed pillars, or, rather, tall towers, their walls surmounted with pinnacles. They mark the limits of the Arafat Plain――the Standing-Ground, as it is called. Here is sight of the Holy Hill of Arafat, standing boldly out from the fair blue sky, and backed by the azure peaks of Taif. All the pilgrim host raised loud shouts of “Labbayk!” The noise was that of a storm.

We then sought our quarters in the town of tents scattered over two or three miles of plain at the southern foot of the Holy Hill, and there we passed a turbulent night of prayer.

I estimated the total number of devotees to be fifty thousand; usually it may amount to eighty thousand. The Arabs, however, believe that the total of those “standing on Arafat” cannot be counted, and that if less than six hundred thousand human beings are gathered, the angels descend and make up the sum. Even in A.D. 1853 my Moslem friends declared that a hundred and fifty thousand immortal beings were present in mortal shape.

The Mount of Mercy, which is also called Tebel Ilál, or Mount of Wrestling in Prayer, is physically considered a mass of coarse granite, split into large blocks and thinly covered with a coat of withered thorns. It rises abruptly to a height of a hundred and eighty to two hundred feet from the gravelly flat, and it is separated by a sandy vale from the last spur of the Taif hills. The dwarf wall encircling it gives the barren eminence a somewhat artificial look, which is not diminished by the broad flight of steps winding up the southern face, and by the large stuccoed platform near the summit, where the preacher delivers the “Sermon of the Standing.”

Arafat means “recognition,” and owes its name and honours to a well-known legend. When our first parents were expelled from Paradise, which, according to Moslems, is in the lowest of the seven heavens, Adam descended at Ceylon, Eve upon Arafat. The former, seeking his wife, began a journey to which the earth owes its present mottled appearance. Wherever he placed his foot a town arose in the fulness of time; between the strides all has remained country. Wandering for many years he came to the Holy Hill of Arafat, the Mountain of Mercy, where our common mother was continually calling upon his name, and their recognition of each other there gave the place its name. Upon the hill-top, Adam, instructed by the Archangel Gabriel, erected a prayer-station, and in its neighbourhood the pair abode until death.

It is interesting to know that Adam’s grave is shown at Muna, the village through which we had passed that day. The mosque covering his remains is called El Kharf; his head is at one end of the long wall, his feet are at the other, and the dome covers his middle. Our first father’s forehead, we are told, originally brushed the skies, but this stature being found inconvenient, it was dwarfed to a hundred and fifty feet. Eve, again, is buried near the port of Meccah――Jeddah, which means the “grandmother.” She is supposed to lie, like a Moslemah, fronting the Kaabah, with her head southwards, her feet to the north, and her right cheek resting on her right hand. Whitewashed and conspicuous to the voyager from afar is the dome opening to the west, and covering a square stone fancifully carved to represent her middle. Two low parallel walls about eighteen feet apart define the mortal remains of our mother, who, as she measured a hundred and twenty paces from head to waist and eighty from waist to heel, must have presented in life a very peculiar appearance. The archæologist will remember that the great idol of Jeddah in the age of the Arab litholatry was a “long stone.”

The next day, the 9th of the month Zu’l Hijjah, is known as Yaum Arafat (the Day of Arafat). After ablution and prayer, we visited sundry interesting places on the Mount of Mercy, and we breakfasted late and copiously, as we could not eat again before nightfall. Even at dawn the rocky hill was crowded with pilgrims, principally Bedouins and wild men, who had secured favourable places for hearing the discourse. From noon onwards the hum and murmur of the multitude waxed louder, people swarmed here and there, guns fired, and horsemen and camelmen rushed about in all directions. A discharge of cannon about 2 p.m. announced that the ceremony of wukuf, or standing on the Holy Hill, was about to commence.

The procession was headed by the retinue of the Sherif, or Prince, of Meccah, the Pope of El Islam. A way for him was cleared through the dense mob of spectators by a cloud of macebearers and by horsemen of the desert carrying long bamboo spears tufted with black ostrich feathers. These were followed by led horses, the proudest blood of Arabia, and by a stalwart band of negro matchlock men. Five red and green flags immediately preceded the Prince, who, habited in plain pilgrim garb, rode a fine mule. The only sign of his rank was a fine green silk and gold umbrella, held over his head by one of his slaves. He was followed by his family and courtiers, and the rear was brought up by a troop of Bedouins on horses and dromedaries. The picturesque background of the scene was the granite hill, covered, wherever foot could be planted, with half-naked devotees, crying “Labbayk!” at the top of their voices, and violently waving the skirts of their gleaming garments. It was necessary to stand literally upon Arafat, but we did not go too near, and a little way off sighted the preacher sitting, after the manner of Mohammed, on his camel and delivering the sermon. Slowly the _cortège_ wound its way towards the Mount of Mercy. Exactly at afternoon prayer-time, the two mahmal, or ornamental litters, of Damascus and Cairo, took their station side by side on a platform in the lower part of the hill. A little above them stood the Prince of Meccah, within hearing of the priest. The pilgrims crowded around them. The loud cries were stilled, and the waving of white robes ceased.

Then the preacher began the “Sermon of the Mount,” which teaches the devotees the duties of the season. At first it was spoken without interruption; then: loud “Amin” and volleys of “Labbayk” exploded at certain intervals. At last the breeze became laden with a purgatorial chorus of sobs, cries, and shrieks. Even the Meccans, who, like the sons of other Holy Cities, are hardened to holy days, thought it proper to appear affected, and those unable to squeeze out a tear buried their faces in the corners of their pilgrim cloths. I buried mine――at intervals.