By the 28th of January, the colossal lions forming the portal to the great hall in the north-west palace of Nimroud were ready to be dragged to the river-bank. The walls and their sculptured panelling had been removed from both sides of them, and they stood isolated in the midst of the ruins. We rode one calm cloudless night to the mound, to look on them for the last time before they were taken from their old resting-places. The moon was at her full, and as we drew nigh to the edge of the deep wall of earth rising around them, her soft light was creeping over the stern features of the human heads, and driving before it the dark shadows which still clothed the lion forms. One by one the limbs of the gigantic sphinxes emerged from the gloom, until the monsters were unveiled before us. I shall never forget that night, or the emotions which those venerable figures caused within me. A few hours more and they were to stand no longer where they had stood unscathed amidst the wreck of man and his works for ages. It seemed almost sacrilege to tear them from their old haunts to make them a mere wonder-stock to the busy crowd of a new world. They were better suited to the desolation around them; for they had guarded the palace in its glory, and it was for them to watch over it in its ruin. Sheikh Abd-ur-Rahman, who had ridden with us to the mound, was troubled with no such reflections. He gazed listlessly at the grim images, wondered at the folly of the Franks, thought the night cold, and turned his mare towards his tents. We scarcely heeded his going, but stood speechless in the deserted portal, until the shadows again began to creep over its hoary guardians.

Beyond the ruined palaces a scene scarcely less solemn awaited us. I had sent a party of Jebours to the bitumen springs, outside the walls to the east of the inclosure. The Arabs having lighted a small fire with brushwood, awaited our coming to throw the burning sticks upon the pitchy pools. A thick heavy smoke rolled upwards in curling volumes, hiding the light of the moon, and spreading wide over the sky. Tongues of flame and jets of gas, driven from the burning pit, shot through the murky canopy. As the fire brightened, a thousand fantastic forms of light played amidst the smoke. To break the cindered crust, and to bring fresh slime to the surface, the Arabs threw large stones into the springs; a new volume of fire then burst forth, throwing a deep red glare upon the figures and upon the landscape. The Jebours danced round the burning pools, like demons in some midnight orgie, shouting their war-cry, and brandishing their glittering arms. In an hour the bitumen was exhausted for the time, the dense smoke gradually died away, and the pale light of the moon again shone over the black slime pits.

The colossal lions were moved by still simpler and ruder means than those adopted on my first expedition. They were tilted over upon loose earth heaped behind them, their too rapid descent being checked by a hawser, which was afterwards replaced by props of wood and stone. They were then lowered, by levers and jackscrews, upon the cart brought under them. A road paved with flat stones had been made to the edge of the mound, and the sculpture was, without difficulty, dragged from the trenches.

Owing to recent heavy rains, which had left in many places deep swamps, we experienced much difficulty in dragging the cart over the plain to the river side. Three days were spent in transporting each lion. The unwieldy mass was propelled from behind by enormous levers of poplar wood; and in the costumes of those who worked, as well as in the means adopted to move the colossal sculptures, except that we used a wheeled cart instead of a sledge, the procession closely resembled that which in days of yore transported the same great figures, and which we see so graphically represented on the walls of Kouyunjik. As they had been brought so were they taken away.

It was necessary to humor and excite the Arabs to induce them to persevere in the arduous work of dragging the cart through the deep soft soil into which it continually sank. At one time, after many vain efforts to move the buried wheels, it was unanimously declared that Mr. Cooper, the artist, brought ill luck, and no one would work until he retired. The cumbrous machine crept onwards for a few more yards, but again all exertions were fruitless. Then the Frank lady would bring good fortune if she sat on the sculpture. The wheels rolled heavily along, but were soon clogged once more in the yielding soil. An evil eye surely lurked among the workmen or the bystanders. Search was quickly made, and one having been detected upon whom this curse had alighted, he was ignominiously driven away with shouts and execrations. This impediment having been removed, the cart drew nearer to the village, but soon again came to a standstill. All the Sheikhs were now summarily degraded from their rank and honors, and a weak ragged boy having been dressed up in tawdry kerchiefs, and invested with a cloak, was pronounced by Hormuzd to be the only fit chief for such puny men. The cart moved forwards, until the ropes gave way, under the new excitement caused by this reflection upon the character of the Arabs. When that had subsided, and the presence of the youthful Sheikh no longer encouraged his subjects, he was as summarily deposed as he had been elected, and a greybeard of ninety was raised to the dignity in his stead. He had his turn; then the most unpopular of the Sheikhs were compelled to lie down on the ground, that the groaning wheels might pass over them, like the car of Juggernaut over its votaries. With yells, shrieks, and wild antics the cart was drawn within a few inches of the prostrate men. As a last resource I seized a rope myself, and with shouts of defiance between the different tribes, who were divided into separate parties and pulled against each other, and amidst the deafening tahlel of the women, the lion was at length fairly brought to the water’s edge.

The winter rains had not yet swelled the waters of the river so as to enable a raft bearing a very heavy cargo to float with safety to Baghdad. It was not until the month of April, after I had left Mosul on my journey to the Khabour, that the floods, from the melting of the snows in the higher mountains of Kurdistan, swept down the valley of the Tigris. I was consequently obliged to confide the task of embarking the sculptures to Behnan, my principal overseer, a Mosuleean stonecutter of considerable skill and experience, Mr. Vice-consul Rassam kindly undertaking to superintend the operation. Owing to extraordinary storms in the hills, the river rose suddenly and with unexampled rapidity. The Jaif was one vast sea, and a furious wind drove the waves against the foot of the mound. The Arabs had never seen a similar inundation, and before they could escape to the high land many persons were overwhelmed in the waters.

When the flood had subsided, the lions on the river bank, though covered with mud and silt, were found uninjured. They were speedily placed on the rafts prepared for them, but unfortunately during the operation one of them, which had previously been cracked nearly across, separated into two parts. Both sculptures were doomed to misfortune. Some person, uncovering the other during the night, broke the nose. I was unable to discover the author of this wanton mischief. He was probably a stranger, who had some feud with the Arabs working in the excavations.[90]

The rafts reached Baghdad in safety. After receiving the necessary repairs they floated onwards to Busrah; and although they encountered several serious dangers and mishaps, they finally reached England.

During my hasty visit in the autumn to Bavian, I had been unable either to examine the rock-tablets with sufficient care, or to copy the inscriptions. The lions having been moved, I seized the first leisure moment to return to those remarkable monuments.

Cawal Yusuf having invited me to the marriage of his niece at Baashiekhah, we left Nimroud early in the morning for that village. The Cawal, followed by the principal inhabitants on horseback, and by a large concourse of people on foot, accompanied by music, and by children bringing lambs as offerings, met us not far from the village. It was already the second day of the marriage. On the previous day the parties had entered into the contract before the usual witnesses, amidst rejoicing and dances. After our arrival, the bride was led to the house of the bridegroom, surrounded by the inhabitants, dressed in their gayest robes, and by the Cawals playing on their instruments of music. She was covered from head to foot by a thick veil, and was kept behind a curtain in the corner of a darkened room. Here she remained until the guests had feasted three days, after which the bridegroom was allowed to approach her.

The courtyard of the house was filled with dancers, and during the day and the greater part of the night, nothing was heard but the loud signs of rejoicing of the women, and the noise of the drum and the pipe.

On the third day the bridegroom was sought early in the morning, and led in triumph by his friends from house to house, receiving at each a trifling present. He was then placed within a circle of dancers, and the guests and bystanders, wetting small coins, stuck them on his forehead. The money was collected as it fell, in an open kerchief held by his companions under his chin.

After this ceremony a party of young men, who had attached themselves to the bridegroom, rushed into the crowd, and carrying off the most wealthy of the guests, locked them up in a dark room until they consented to pay a ransom for their release. The money thus collected was added to the dowry of the newly married couple.

Leaving the revellers I rode to Baazani with Cawal Yusuf, Sheikh Jindi (the stern leader of the religious ceremonies at Sheikh Adi), and a few Yezidi notables, to examine the rocky valleys behind the village. I once more searched in vain for some traces of ancient quarries from whence the Assyrians might have obtained the slabs used in their buildings. At the entrance of one of the deep ravines, which runs into the Gebel Makloub, a clear spring gushes from a grotto in the hill-side. Tradition says that this is the cave of the Seven Sleepers and their Dog, and the Yezidis have made the spot a ziareh, or place of pilgrimage.[91]

A ride of seven hours brought us to the foot of the higher limestone range, and to the mouth of the ravine containing the rock-sculptures. Bavian is a mere Kurdish hamlet of five or six miserable huts on the left bank of the Ghazir. We stopped at the larger village of Khinnis; the two being scarcely half a mile apart, the place is usually called “Khinnis-Bavian.” The Arab population ceases with the plains, the villages in the hills being inhabited by Kurds, and included in the district of Missouri. Adjoining is the Yezidi district of Sheikhan.

The rock-sculptures of Bavian are the most important that have yet been discovered in Assyria.[92] They are carved in relief on the side of a narrow, rocky ravine, on the right bank of the Gomel, a brawling mountain torrent issuing from the Missouri hills, and one of the principal feeders of the small river Ghazir, the ancient Bumadus. The Gomel or Gomela may, perhaps, be traced in the ancient name of Gaugamela, celebrated for that great victory which gave to the Macedonian conqueror the dominion of the Eastern world. Although the battle-field was called after Arbela, a neighbouring city, we know that the river Zab intervened between them, and that the battle was fought near the village of Gaugamela, on the banks of the Bumadus or Ghazir, the Gomela of the Kurds. It is remarkable that tradition has not preserved any record of the precise scene of an event which so materially affected the destinies of the East. The history of this great battle is unknown to the present inhabitants of the country; nor does any local name, except perhaps that which I have pointed out, serve to connect it with these plains. The battle-field was probably in the neighbourhood of Tel Aswad, or between it and the junction of the Ghazir with the Zab, on the direct line of march to the fords of that river. We had undoubtedly crossed the very spot during our ride to Bavian. The whole of the country between the Makloub range and the Tigris is equally well suited to the operations of mighty armies, but from the scanty topographical details given by the historians of Alexander, we are unable to identify the exact place of his victory. It is curious that hitherto no remains or relics have been turned up by the plough which would serve to mark the precise site of so great a battle as that of Arbela.

The principal rock-tablet at Bavian contains four figures, sculptured in relief upon the smoothed face of a limestone cliff, rising perpendicularly from the bed of the torrent. They are inclosed by a kind of frame 28 feet high by 30 feet wide, and are protected by an overhanging cornice from the water which trickles down the face of the precipice. Two deities, facing each other, are represented, as they frequently are on monuments and relics of the same period, standing on mythic animals resembling dogs. They wear the high square head-dress, with horns uniting in front, peculiar to the human-headed bulls of the later Assyrian palaces. One holds in the left hand a kind of staff surmounted by the sacred tree. To the centre of this staff is attached a ring encircling a figure, probably that of the king. The other hand is stretched forth towards the opposite god, who carries a similar staff, and grasps in the right hand an object which is too much injured to be accurately described. These two figures may represent but one and the same great tutelary deity of the Assyrians, as the two kings who stand in act of adoration before them are undoubtedly but one and the same king. The monarch, thus doubly portrayed, is behind the god. He raises one hand, and holds in the other the sacred mace, ending in a ball. His dress resembles that of the builder of the Kouyunjik palace, Sennacherib, with whom the inscriptions I shall presently describe, identify him.

This bas-relief has suffered greatly from the effects of the atmosphere, and in many parts the details can no longer be distinguished. But they have been still more injured by those who occupied the country after the fall of the Assyrian empire. Strangers, having no reverence for the records or sacred monuments of those who went before them, excavated in the ready-scarped rocks the sepulchral chambers of their dead.[93] In this great tablet there are four such tombs. I entered them by means of a rope lowered from above by a party of Kurds. They were empty, their contents having, of course, been long before carried away, or destroyed.

To the left of this great bas-relief, and nearer the mouth of the ravine, is a second tablet containing a horseman at full speed, and the remains of other figures. Both horse and rider are of colossal proportions, and remarkable for the spirit of the outline. The warrior wears the Assyrian pointed helmet, and couches a long ponderous spear, as in the act of charging the enemy. Before him is a colossal figure of the king, and behind him a deity with a horned cap; above his head a row of smaller figures of gods standing on animals of various forms, as in the rock-sculptures of Malthaiyah.

This fine bas-relief has, unfortunately, suffered even more than the other monuments from the effects of the atmosphere, and would easily escape notice without an acquaintance with its position.

Scattered over the cliff, on each side of the principal bas-reliefs, are eleven small tablets, some easily accessible, others so high up on the face of the precipice, that they are scarcely seen from below. One is on a level with the bed of the stream, and was, indeed, almost covered by the mud deposit of the floods. Each arched recess, for they are cut into the rock, contains a figure of the king, as at the Nahr-el-Kelb, near Beyrout in Syria[94], 5 feet 6 inches high. Above his head are the sacred symbols, arranged in four distinct groups. The first group consists of three tiaras, like those worn by the gods and human-headed bulls, and of a kind of altar on which stands a staff ending in the head of a ram; the second of a crescent and of the winged disk, or globe; the third of a pedestal, on which are a trident and three staffs, one topped by a cone, another without ornament, and the last ending in two bulls’ heads turned in opposite directions; and the fourth of a Maltese cross (? symbolical of the sun) and the seven stars. Some of these symbols have reference, it would seem, to the astral worship of the Assyrians; whilst others, probably, represent instruments used during sacrifices, or sacred ceremonies.

Across three of these royal tablets are inscriptions. One can be reached from the foot of the cliff, the others, being on the higher sculptures, cannot be seen from below. They are all more or less injured, but being very nearly, word for word, the same, they can to some extent be restored. I was lowered by ropes to those on the face of the precipice, which are not otherwise accessible. Standing on a ledge scarcely six inches wide, overlooking a giddy depth, and in a constrained and painful position, I had some difficulty in copying them. The stupidity and clumsiness, moreover, of the Kurds, who had never aided in such proceedings before, rendered my attempts to reach the sculptures somewhat dangerous.

The inscriptions, the longest of which contains sixty-three lines, are in many respects of considerable importance, and have been partly translated by Dr. Hincks. They commence with an invocation to Ashur and the great deities of Assyria, the names of only eleven of whom are legible, although probably the whole thirteen are enumerated, as on the monuments from Nimroud. Then follow the name and titles of Sennacherib. Next there is an account of various great works for irrigation undertaken by this king. From eighteen districts, or villages, he declares he dug eighteen canals to the Ussur or Khusur (?), in which he collected their waters. He also dug a canal, from the borders of the town or district of Kisri to Nineveh, and brought these waters through it; he called it the canal of Sennacherib.

A long obscure passage precedes a very detailed account of the expedition to Babylon and Kar-Duniyas against Merodach-baladan, recorded under the first year of the annals on the Kouyunjik bulls.[95] After mentioning some canals which he had made in the south of Assyria, Sennacherib speaks of the army which defended the workmen being attacked by the king of Elam and the king of Babylon, with many kings of the hills and the plains who were their allies. He defeated them in the neighbourhood of Khalul (site undetermined). Many of the great people of the king of Elam and the son of the king of Kar-Duniyas were either killed or taken prisoners, while the kings themselves fled to their respective countries. Sennacherib then mentions his advance to Babylon, his conquest and plunder of it, and concludes with saying, that he brought back from that city the images of the gods which had been taken by Merodach-adakhe (?), the king of Mesopotamia, from Assyria 418 years before, and put them in their places.

Now, the importance of this inscription, presuming it to be correctly interpreted, will at once be perceived, for it proves almost beyond a doubt, that at that remote period the Assyrians kept an exact computation of time. We may consequently hope that sooner or later chronological tables may be discovered, which will furnish us with minute and accurate information as to the precise epoch of the occurrence of various important events in Assyrian history. It is, indeed, remarkable that Sennacherib should mark so exactly the year of the carrying away of the Assyrian gods. This very date enables us, as will hereafter be seen, to restore much of the chronology, and to place, almost with certainty, in the dynastic lists, a king whose position was before unknown.

We find also that the greater part, if not the whole, of the rock-sculptures were executed either at the end of the first, or at the beginning of the second, year of the reign of Sennacherib. As he particularly describes six tablets, it is probable that the others were added at some future period, and after some fresh victory. When the whole inscription is restored, we shall probably obtain many other important details which are wanting in the annals of Kouyunjik, and in the records of the same period.

Beneath the sculptured tablets, and in the bed of the Gomel, are two enormous fragments of rock, which appear to have been torn from the overhanging cliff, and to have been hurled by some mighty convulsion of nature into the torrent below. The pent up waters eddy round them in deep and dangerous whirlpools, and when swollen by the winter rains sweep completely over them. They still bear the remains of sculpture. One has been broken by the fall into two pieces. On them is the Assyrian Hercules strangling the lion between two winged human-headed bulls, back to back, as at the grand entrances of the palaces of Kouyunjik and Khorsabad. Above this group is the king, worshipping between two deities, who stand on mythic animals, having the heads of eagles, the bodies and fore feet of lions, and hind legs armed with the talons of a bird of prey. The height of the whole sculpture is 24 feet, that of the winged bull 8 ft. 6 in.

Near the entrance to the ravine the face of the cliff has been scraped for some yards to the level of the bed of the torrent. A party of Kurds were hired to excavate at this spot, as well as in other parts of the narrow valley. Remains and foundations of buildings in well-hewn stone were discovered under the thick mud deposited by the Gomel when swollen by rains. Higher up the gorge, on removing the earth, I found a series of basins cut in the rock, and descending in steps to the stream. The water had originally been led from one to the other through small conduits, the lowest of which was ornamented at its mouth with two rampant lions in relief. These outlets were choked up, but we cleared them, and by pouring water into the upper basin restored the fountain as it had been in the time of the Assyrians.

From the nature and number of the monuments at Bavian, it would seem that this ravine was a sacred spot, devoted to religious ceremonies and to national sacrifices. When the buildings, whose remains still exist, were used for these purposes, the waters must have been pent up between quays or embankments. They now occasionally spread over the bottom of the valley, leaving no pathway at the foot of the lofty cliffs. The remains of a well-built raised causeway of stone, leading to Bavian from the city of Nineveh, may still be traced across the plain to the east of the Gebel Makloub.

The place, from its picturesque beauty and its cool refreshing shade even in the hottest day of summer, is a grateful retreat, well suited to devotion and to holy rites. The brawling stream almost fills the bed of the narrow ravine with its clear and limpid waters. The beetling cliffs rise abruptly on each side, and above them tower the wooded declivities of the Kurdish hills. As the valley opens into the plain, the sides of the limestone mountains are broken into a series of distinct strata, and resemble a vast flight of steps leading up to the high lands of central Asia. The banks of the torrent are clothed with shrubs and dwarf trees, amongst which are the green myrtle and the gay oleander, bending under the weight of its rosy blossoms.

I remained two days at Bavian to copy the inscriptions, and to explore the Assyrian remains. Wishing to visit the Yezidi chiefs, I took the road to Ain Sifni, passing through two large Kurdish villages, Atrush and Om-es-sukr, and leaving the entrance to the valley of Sheikh Adi to the right. The district to the north-west of Khinnis is partly inhabited by a tribe professing peculiar religious tenets, and known by the name of Shabbak. Although strange and mysterious rites are, as usual, attributed to them, I suspect that they are simply the descendants of Kurds, who emigrated at some distant period from the Persian slopes of the mountains, and who still profess Sheeite doctrines.

We passed the night in the village of Esseeyah, where Sheikh Nasr had recently built a dwelling-house. I occupied the same room with the Sheikh, Hussein Bey, and a large body of Yezidi Cawals, and was lulled to sleep by an interminable tale, about the prophet Mohammed and a stork, which, when we had all lain down to rest, a Yezidi priest related with the same soporific effect upon the whole party. On the following day I hunted gazelles with Hussein Bey, and was his guest for the night at Baadri, returning next morning to Mosul.