The gigantic human-headed lions, first discovered in the north-west palace at Nimroud, were still standing in their original position. Having been carefully covered up with earth previous to my departure in 1848, they had been preserved from exposure to the effects of the weather, and to wanton injury on the part of the Arabs. The Trustees of the British Museum wishing to add these fine sculptures to the national collection, I was directed to remove them entire. A road through the ruins, for their transport to the edge of the mound, was in the first place necessary, and it was commenced early in December. They would thus be ready for embarkation as soon as the waters of the river were sufficiently high to bear a raft so heavily laden, over the rapids and shallows between Nimroud and Baghdad. This road was dug to the level of the pavement or artificial platform, and was not finished till the end of February, as a large mass of earth and rubbish had to be taken away to the depth of fifteen or twenty feet. During the progress of the work we found some carved fragments of ivory similar to those already placed in the British Museum; and two massive sockets in bronze, in which turned the hinges of a gate of the palace. No remains of the door-posts, or other parts of the gate, were discovered in the ruins, and it is uncertain whether these rings were fixed in stone or wood.[66]

In the south-eastern corner of the mound tunnels carried beneath the ruined edifice, which is of the seventh century B. C., showed the remains of an earlier building. A vaulted drain, about five feet in width, was also discovered. The arch was turned with large kiln-burnt bricks, and rested upon side walls of the same material. The bricks being square, and not expressly made for vaulting, a space was left above the centre of the arch, which was filled up by bricks, laid longitudinally.

Although this may not be a perfect arch, we have seen from the vaulted chamber discovered in the very centre of the high mound at the north-west corner, that the Assyrians were well acquainted at an early period with its true principle. Other examples were not wanting in the ruins. The earth falling away from the sides of the deep trench opened in the north-west palace for the removal of the bull and lion during the former excavations, left uncovered the entrance to a vaulted drain or passage, built of sun-dried bricks. Beneath was a small watercourse, inclosed by square pieces of alabaster. A third arch, equally perfect in character, was found beneath the ruins of the south-east edifice. A tunnel had been opened almost on a level with the plain, and carried far into the southern face of the mound, but without the discovery of any other remains of building than this solitary brick arch.

In the south-east corner of the quadrangle, formed by the low mounds marking the walls once surrounding this quarter of the city of Nineveh, or the park attached to the royal residence, the level of the soil is considerably higher than in any other part of the inclosed space. This sudden inequality evidently indicates the site of some ancient edifice. Connected with it, rising abruptly, and almost perpendicularly, from the plain, and forming one of the corners of the walls, is a lofty, irregular mound, which is known to the Arabs by the name of the Tel of Athur, the Lieutenant of Nimroud.[67] Tunnels and trenches opened in it showed nothing but earth, unmingled even with bricks or fragments of stone. Remains of walls and a pavement of baked bricks were, however, discovered in the lower part of the platform. The bricks had evidently been taken from some other building, for upon them were traces of coloured figures and patterns, of the same character as those on the sculptured walls of the palaces. Their painted faces were placed downwards, as if purposely to conceal them, and the designs upon them were in most instances injured or destroyed. A few fragments were collected, and are now in the British Museum. The colors have faded, but were probably once as bright as the enamels of Khorsabad. The outlines are white, and the ground a pale blue and olive green. The only other color used is a dull yellow. The most interesting specimens are:—

1. Four captives tied together by their necks, the end of the rope being held by the foremost prisoner, whose hands are free, whilst the others have their arms bound behind. They probably formed part of a line of captives led by an Assyrian warrior. They are beardless, and have bald heads, to which is attached a single feather.[68] Two of them have white cloths round their loins, the others long white shirts open in front, like the shirt of the modern Arab. The figures on this fragment are yellow on a blue ground.

2. Similar captives followed by an Assyrian soldier. The armour of the warrior is that of the later period, the scales and greaves are painted blue and yellow, and the tunic blue. The ground blue.

3. Parts of two horses, of a man holding a dagger, and of an Assyrian warrior. The horses are blue. The man appears to have been wounded or slain in battle, and is naked, with the exception of a twisted blue cloth round the loins. Ground an olive green.

4. Fragment, with Assyrian warriors on horses. Horses yellow, with blue trappings. Ground olive green.

5. Part of a chariot and horse, yellow on a blue ground.

6. A man, with a white cloth round his loins, pierced by two arrows. A fish, blue, with the scales marked in white; and part of a horse’s head, yellow. Ground yellow.

7. Part of a walled tower, or fort, with square battlements; white, on a blue ground.

8. Fragment of a very spirited design representing a chariot and horses passing over a naked figure, pierced through the neck by an arrow. Under this group are the heads, and parts of the shields, of two Assyrian warriors. The wounded man wears a fillet round his head, to which is attached a feather. The horses are blue, and their trappings white; the wheels of the chariot, yellow. The shields of the warriors are blue, edged by a band of alternate squares of blue and yellow; their helmets are yellow, but the faces appear to be merely outlined in white on the olive green ground.

9. The lower part of an Assyrian warrior, his armour and greaves blue, yellow, and white. The naked hand is of a pale brown color. Ground olive green.

10. A castle, with angular battlements; white, with yellow bands on a blue ground. A square door is painted blue.

All these fragments evidently belong to the same period, and probably to the same general subject. I should conjecture that they had been taken from the same building as the detached bas-reliefs in the south-west palace, and that consequently they may be attributed to the same king.[69] The outlines are spirited, in character and treatment resembling the sculptures.

A fragment of painted brick, found in the ruins of the north-west palace, is undoubtedly of a different, and of an earlier, period. The outline is in black, and not in white. The upper robe is blue, the under yellow, and the fringes white. The ground is yellow.

But the most perfect and interesting specimen of painting is that on a brick, 12 inches by 9, discovered in the centre of the mound of Nimroud, and now in the British Museum. It represents the king followed by his attendant eunuch, receiving his general or vizir, a group very similar to those seen in the sculptures from the north-west palace. Above his head is a kind of fringed pavilion and part of an inscription, which appears to have contained his name; beneath him is the Assyrian guilloche border. The outline is in black upon a pale yellow ground, the colors having probably faded. From the costume of the king I believe him to be either the builder of the north-west or centre palace. This is an unique specimen of an entire Assyrian painting.

During the greater part of the month of December I resided at Nimroud. One morning, I was suddenly disturbed by the reports of firearms, mingled with the shouts of men and the shrieks of women. Issuing immediately from the house, I found the open space behind it a scene of wild excitement and confusion. Horsemen, galloping in all directions and singing their war song, were driving before them with their long spears the cattle and sheep of the village. The men were firing at the invaders; the women, armed with tent poles and pitchforks, and filling the air with their shrill screams, were trying to rescue the animals. The horsemen of the Arab tribe of Tai had taken advantage of a thick mist hanging over the Jaif, to cross the Zab early in the morning, and to fall upon us before we were aware of their approach. No time was to be lost to prevent bloodshed, and all its disagreeable consequences. A horse was soon ready, and I rode towards the one who appeared to be the chief of the attacking party. Although his features were concealed by the keffieh closely drawn over the lower part of his face, after the Bedouin fashion in war, he had been recognised as Saleh, the brother of the Howar, the Sheikh of the Tai. At my urgent solicitation Saleh consented to restore all that had been stolen, and each one was accordingly invited to claim his own property. In the midst of the crowd of wranglers about lost cloaks, handkerchiefs, and the like, a hare suddenly sprang from her form and darted over the plain. My greyhounds, who had followed me from the house, immediately pursued her. This was too much for the Arabs; their love of the chase overcame even their propensity for appropriating other people’s property; cattle, cloaks, swords, and keffiehs were abandoned to their respective claimants, and the whole band of marauders joined wildly in the pursuit. Before we had reached the game we were far distant from Nimroud. I seized the opportunity to conclude the truce, and Saleh with his followers rode slowly back towards the ford of the Zab to seek his brother’s tents. I promised to visit, the Howar in two or three days, and we parted with mutual assurances of friendship.

I spent Christmas-day at Nimroud, and on the 28th set out to visit the Howar. Schloss again accompanied me, Mr. Rolland (a traveller, who had recently joined us), Hormuzd, and Awad being of the party. Leaving the Kuther Elias to the left, we passed the ruined village of Kini-Hareim, taking the direct track to the Zab. The river, winding through a rich alluvial plain, divides itself into four branches, before entering a range of low conglomerate hills, between which it sweeps in its narrowed bed with great velocity. The four channels are each fordable, except during floods, and the Arabs generally cross at this spot. The water reached above the bellies of our horses, but we found no difficulty in stemming the current. The islands and the banks were clothed with trees and brushwood. In the mud and sand near the jungle were innumerable deep, sharp prints of the hoof of the wild boar.

The tents of the Howar were still higher up the Zab. Sending a horseman to apprise the chief of our approach, we rode leisurely towards them. As we passed by a small village named Kaaitli, the women came out with their children, and pointing to me exclaimed, “Look, look! this is the Beg who is come from the other end of the world to dig up the bones of our grandfathers and grandmothers!” a sacrilege which they seemed inclined to resent. Saleh, at the head of fifty or sixty horsemen, met us beyond the village, and conducted us to the encampment of his brother.

The tents were pitched in long, parallel lines. That of the chief held the foremost place, and was distinguished by its size, the upright spears tufted with ostrich feathers at its entrance, and the many high-bred mares tethered before it. As we approached, a tall, commanding figure, of erect and noble carriage, issued from beneath the black canvass, and advanced to receive me. I had never seen amongst the Arabs a man of such lofty stature. His features were regular and handsome, but his beard, having been fresh dyed with hennah alone, was of a bright brick-red hue, ill suited to the gravity and dignity of his countenance. His head was encircled by a rich cashmere shawl, one end falling over his shoulder, as is the custom amongst the Arabs of the Hedjaz. He wore a crimson satin robe and a black cloak, elegantly embroidered down the back, and on one of the wide sleeves with gold thread and many-colored silks. This was Sheikh Howar.

As I dismounted, the Sheikh advanced to embrace me, and when his arms were round my neck my head scarcely reached to his shoulder. He led me into that part of the tent which is set aside for guests. It had been prepared for my reception, and was not ill furnished with cushions of silk and soft Kurdish carpets. The tent itself was more capacious than those usually found amongst Arabs. The black goat-hair canvass alone was the load of three camels[70], and was supported by six poles down the centre, with the same number on either side. Around a bright fire was an array of highly burnished metal coffee-pots, the largest containing several quarts, and the smallest scarcely big enough to fill the diminutive cup reserved for the solitary stranger.

Coffee was, of course, the first business. It was highly spiced, as drank by the Bedouins. The Howar, after some general conversation, spoke of the politics of the Tai, and their differences with the Turkish government. The same ruinous system which has turned some of the richest districts of Asia into a desert, and has driven every Arab clan into open rebellion against the Sultan, had been pursued towards himself and his tribe. Owing to the extortionate demands of the Turkish governors, and intestine dissensions and broils between the Arabs themselves, the country had rapidly been reduced to a state of anarchy. The Arabs, having no one responsible chief, took, of course, to plundering. The villages on the Mosul side of the Zab, as well as in the populous district of Arbil, were laid waste. The Kurds, who came down into the plains during the winter, were encouraged to follow the example of the Tai, and, from the rapaciousness and misconduct of one or two officers of the Turkish government, evils had ensued whose consequences will be felt for years, and which will end in adding another rich district to the desert. Such is the history of almost every tribe in Turkey, and such the causes of the desolation that has spread over her finest provinces.

The Tai is a remnant of one of the most ancient and renowned tribes of Arabia. The Howar himself traces his descent from Hatem, a sheikh of the tribe who lived in the seventh century, and who, as the impersonation of all the virtues of Bedouin life, is the theme to this day of the Arab muse. His hospitality, his generosity, his courage, and his skill as a horseman were alike unequalled, and there is no name more honored amongst the wild inhabitants of the desert than that of Hatem Tai. The Howar is proud of his heroic ancestor, and the Bedouins acknowledge and respect his descent.[71]

We dined with the Sheikh and sat until the night was far spent, listening to tales of Arab life, and to the traditions of his tribe.

On the following morning the tents were struck at sunrise, and the chief moved with his followers to new pastures. The crowd of camels, flocks, cattle, laden beasts of burden, horsemen, footmen, women and children darkened the plain for some miles. We passed through the midst of them with the Sheikh, and leaving him to fix the spot for his encampment, we turned from the river and rode inland towards the tents of his rival and cousin, Faras. Saleh, with a few horsemen, accompanied me, one of my special objects being to bring about a reconciliation between the two chiefs.

The plain, bounded by the Tigris, the great and lesser Zab, and the Kurdish hills, is renowned for its fertility. It is the granary of Baghdad, and it is a common saying amongst the Arabs, “that if there were a famine over the rest of the earth, Shomamok (for so the principal part of the plain is called) would still have its harvest.” This district belongs chiefly to the Tai Arabs, who wander from pasture to pasture, and leave the cultivation of the soil to small sedentary tribes of Arabs, Turcomans, and Kurds, who dwell in villages, and pay an annual tribute in money or in kind.As we rode along we passed many peasants industriously driving the plough through the rich soil. Large flocks of gazelles grazed in the cultivated patches, scarcely fearing the husbandman, though speedily bounding away over the plain as horsemen approached. Artificial mounds rose on all sides of us, and near one of the largest, called Abou-Jerdeh, we found the black tents of Sheikh Faras. The rain began to fall in torrents before we reached the encampment. The chief had ridden out to a neighbouring village to make arrangements for our better protection against the weather. He soon returned urging his mare to the top of her speed. In person he was a strange contrast to the elder member of his family. He was short, squat, and fat, and his coarse features were buried in a frame of hair dyed bright red. He was, however, profuse in assurances of friendship, talked incessantly, agreed to all I proposed with regard to a reconciliation with the other branch of the tribe, and received Saleh with every outward sign of cordiality. His son had more of the dignity of his race, but the expression of his countenance was forbidding and sinister. The two young men, as they sat, cast looks of defiance at each other, and I had some difficulty in restraining Saleh from breaking out in invectives, which probably would have ended in an appeal to the sword.

As the rain increased in violence, and the tent offered but an imperfect shelter, we moved to the village, where a house had been prepared for us by its honest, kind-hearted Turcoman chief, Wali Bey. With unaffected hospitality he insisted that we should become his guests, and had already slain the sheep for our entertainment. I have met few men who exceed, in honesty and fidelity, the descendants of the pure Turcoman race, scattered over Asia Minor and the districts watered by the Tigris.On the following morning, Wali Bey provided an ample breakfast, in which all the luxuries of the village were set before us. On reaching the Zab, we found it rising rapidly from the rains of the previous day. Our servants had already crossed, but the river was now impassable. We sought a ford higher up, and above the junction of the Ghazir. Having struggled in vain against the swollen stream, we were compelled to give up the attempt. Nothing remained but to seek the ferry on the high road, between Arbil and Mosul. We did not reach the small village, where a raft is kept for the use of travellers and caravans, until nearly four o’clock in the afternoon, and it was sunset before we had crossed the river.

We hurried along the direct track to Nimroud, hoping to cross the Ghazir before night-fall. But fresh difficulties awaited us. That small river, collecting the torrents of the Missouri hills, had overflown its bed, and its waters were rushing tumultuously onwards, with a breadth of stream almost equalling the Tigris. We rode along its banks, hoping to find an encampment where we could pass the night. At length, in the twilight, we spied some Arabs, who immediately took refuge behind the walls of a ruined village, and believing us to be marauders from the desert, prepared to defend themselves and their cattle. Directing the rest of the party to stop, I rode forward with the Bairakdar, and was in time to prevent a discharge of fire-arms pointed against us.

The nearest inhabited village was Tel Aswad, or Kara Tuppeh, still far distant. As we rode towards it in the dusk, one or two wolves lazily stole from the brushwood, and jackals and other beasts of prey occasionally crossed our path. We found the Kiayah seated with some travellers round a blazing fire. The miserable hut was soon cleared of its occupants, and we prepared to pass the night as we best could.Towards dawn the Kiayah brought us word that the Ghazir had subsided sufficiently to allow us to ford. We started under his guidance, and found that the stream, although divided into three branches, reached in some places almost to the backs of the horses. Safe over, we struck across the country towards Nimroud, and reached the ruins as a thick morning mist was gradually withdrawn from the lofty mound.

During our absence, a new chamber had been opened in the north-west palace, to the south of the great centre hall. The walls were of plain, sun-dried brick, and there were no remains of sculptured slabs, but in the earth and rubbish which had filled it, were discovered some of the most interesting relics obtained from the ruins of Assyria. A description of its contents alone will occupy a chapter.