Austen Henry Layard

RUINS IN SOUTHERN MESOPOTAMIA.—DEPARTURE FROM HILLAH.—SAND-HILLS.—VILLAGES IN THE JEZIREH.—SHEIKH KARBOUL.—RUINS.—FIRST VIEW OF NIFFER.—THE MARSHES.—ARAB BOATS.—ARRIVE AT SOUK-EL-AFAIJ.—SHEIKH AGAB.—TOWN OF THE AFAIJ.—DESCRIPTION OF THE RUINS OF NIFFER.—EXCAVATIONS IN THE MOUNDS.—DISCOVERY OF COFFINS.—OF VARIOUS RELICS.—MR. LOFTUS’ DISCOVERIES AT WURKA.—THE ARAB TRIBES.—WILD BEASTS.—LIONS.—CUSTOMS OF THE AFAIJ.—LEAVE THE MARSHES.—RETURN TO BAGHDAD.—A MIRAGE.

The south of Mesopotamia abounds in extensive and important ruins, of which little is known. The country around them is inhabited by Arabs of the tribes of Rubbiyah and Ahl Maidan, notorious for their lawlessness, and scarcely more intelligent or human than the buffaloes which they tend. One or two travellers have passed these remains of ancient civilisation when journeying through the Jezireh, or have received descriptions of them from natives of the country. Mr. Loftus was the first to explore the most important. Being attached, as geologist, to the mission for the settlement of the boundaries between Persia and Turkey, he went by land from Baghdad to Busrah to join its other members. As he was accompanied by an escort of troops he was able to visit the principal ruins on the way without risk. He found the tribes well-disposed towards Europeans, though very hostile to the Turks. Taking advantage of this favorable feeling, and relying upon the protection of the Arab Sheikhs, Mr. Loftus returned a second time alone, and was able to excavate in some of the larger mounds. He obtained during this expedition the highly interesting collection of antiquities from Wurka, now in the British Museum.

All these ruins are best reached from Hillah. The Sheikhs of the Arab tribes living near them are usually in friendly communication with the principal people of that town. Owing, however, to the present disturbed state of the country, I was compelled to ask for safe conduct from Agab, the Sheikh of the Afaij.

The Afaij dwell in the midst of extensive marshes formed by the Euphrates, about fifty miles below Hillah. On the eastern border of these swamps rise the great ruins of Niffer, which I was first desirous of examining. After some discussion, it was finally settled that we were to go by land, keeping as much as possible in the centre of Mesopotamia, and thus avoiding the neighbourhood of the Euphrates, as the Arabs were now congregated along the banks of the river. Zaid, with an Agayl of his acquaintance, agreed to accompany me. My own Jebours were, of course, of the party. Having hired mules and laid in a proper stock of provisions, tools, and packing cases to hold any antiquities that might be discovered, we began our journey on Wednesday, the 15th of January.

The weather was bright and intensely cold. The sky was cloudless, but a biting north wind swept across the plain. It was the middle of the Babylonian winter, and a hard frost daily whitened the ground. We left Hillah by the Baghdad gate. The Bairakdar was with me, with the rest of my Mosul servants. My huntsman, old Seyyid Jasim, wrapt up in his thick Arab cloak, bore his favorite hawk on his wrist. He was followed, as usual, by the greyhounds. The Jebours went partly on foot, riding by turns on the baggage horses. Mr. Hormuzd Rassam was wanting to complete our party. He had been kept in Baghdad by severe illness almost since our arrival, and for the first time during my wanderings in Mesopotamia he was not with me.

We followed a track leading towards the centre of the Mesopotamian Desert. Our course was nearly due east. About six miles from the town we found ourselves amidst moving sand-hills, extending far and wide on all sides. The fine sand shifts with every breeze, and the wrinkled heaps are like the rippled surface of a lake. When the furious southerly wind sweeps over them, it raises a dense suffocating dust, blinding the wayfaring Arab, and leaving him to perish in the trackless labyrinth.

After four hours’ ride we left the sand-heaps, and again came in sight of the black belt of palm trees. After stopping to drink water we proceeded to a small hamlet called Allak, and took up our quarters for the night in the museef of its Sheikh, who, notwithstanding his poverty, received us very hospitably. He related to me how from the numerous artificial mounds in the surrounding plains were frequently taken, after rain had washed away the soil, earthen jars and coffins containing ornaments of gold and silver.

As we continued our journey during the following day, still keeping in the Desert, we passed one or two small encampments of the Zobeide tribe. The Arabs, alarmed at the approach of so large a party, and believing us to be horsemen on a foray, sallied forth to meet us at some distance from their tents, flourishing their weapons and chanting their wild war-cry. The plain, although now without any stationary population, was once thickly inhabited. The lion, the hyena, the wolf, the jackal, the wild boar, the fox, and the porcupine now alone break the solitude of a wilderness once the seat of the most luxurious and civilised nation of the East.It would be needless to describe the few deserted villages we passed during our day’s journey; their mud walls, once a protection against the wandering Arab, are unable to resist the encroaching sand, which has already overwhelmed the empty dwellings. In this region the habitations of men are turned almost in a day to mere heaps of earth. The district is called Shomali.

After a ride of six hours we reached an ancient mound of considerable size, called Haroun. On its summit was a ruined Imaum-zadeh (Mussulman oratory). It was a sacred place to the Arab, and on this account had been used as a burying-place. The grave of the wandering Arab is rarely far beneath the surface of the soil, and the wild beasts of the Desert soon scrape away the scanty earth. Human skulls and remains, scarcely yet bleached by the sun, were scattered over the ruins, mingled with bricks, pottery, broken glass, and other relics of ancient population.

We had scarcely passed Haroun when a party of Arabs on horseback and on foot suddenly came forth from behind the lofty banks of a dry canal. They had seen our caravan from afar, and had waylaid us. After they had followed us for some distance they turned back to their tribe, deeming it prudent not to venture an attack, as we were fully prepared for them.

Shortly after their departure, a gazelle rose from a thicket, and bounded across the plain. Seyyid Jasim unloosed his hawk, and I pursued with the dogs. The sight of horsemen galloping to and fro alarmed an Arab settlement gathered round a small mud fort belonging to a chief called Karboul. The men armed themselves and came out against us. Our Afaij guides, however, soon made themselves known to them, and they then escorted our caravan to their tents, dancing a wild dance, shouting their war-cries, singing war-songs, and firing their matchlocks. Most of them had no other clothing than the shirt taken off their shoulders and tied round their loins. Their countenances were singularly ferocious, their bright eyes and white teeth making them even more hideous. Long black matted hair was scattered over their heads in horrid confusion, and their bodies were tanned by the burning sun to the color and substance of old leather.

Their Sheikh, Karboul, was scarcely less savage in his appearance, though somewhat better clothed. However ill-disposed he might have been towards Europeans, or travellers in general, he acknowledged the protection that had been extended to us by the Afaij chief, and led me with words of welcome to his spacious tent. His followers, excited by the late alarm, and now full of warlike enthusiasm, were not, however, to be dismissed until they had satisfied themselves by performing various warlike dances. They did so in circles before the tent, raising a few tattered flags, and deafening me by their shouts and barbarous songs.

These wild beings, little better than mere beasts, lived in hovels made of mats and brushwood. They fed large herds of buffaloes; but the greater part of their sheep and cattle had been driven away by the Bedouins. Their tribe was the Shabaneh, a branch of the Ahl Ukra.

Next morning Karboul sent his son and a party of horsemen to escort us for some distance on our road. We had to make a considerable circuit to the east to encompass the marsh, which has now spread over the lower part of the Mesopotamian plain. We passed numerous artificial mounds, covered with fragments of bricks, pottery, glazed tiles, richly-colored glass and other relics that mark the site of Babylonian ruins. Canals, too, no longer fed by the Euphrates, everywhere crossed our path, and limited our view. The parched soil outside the swamp has become fine sand, amidst which small tufts of the hardy tamarisk form the only vegetation.

After two hours’ ride, we emerged from the labyrinth of dry canals, and ascending a heap of rubbish covering some ancient ruin, we beheld, looming on the horizon like a distant mountain, the principal object of my journey—the mounds of Niffer. They were still nearly ten miles from us. Magnified as they were by the mirage they appeared far to exceed in size and height any artificial elevation that I had hitherto seen.

To the east of us rose another great ruin, called Zibbliyah, a lofty, square mass, apparently of sundried brick. It resembled in form, and was scarcely less in size than the well-known remains of Akkerkuf, near Baghdad.

Between us and Niffer were still many mounds and ancient canals. The largest of the former, covered with bricks and pottery, was called by our Arab guides El Hamra, “the red.” The principal canal, whose waters had once been confined between two enormous embankments, ran in a direct line towards the ruins. It is now dry, but appears to have once supplied the city.

After a journey of five hours we reached the ruins of Niffer. They differ in general form from the great mounds of Assyria, with which my descriptions may have familiarised the reader. Although at their north-east corner is a cone similar to those of Nimroud and Kalah-Sherghat, yet, in their broken outline and in their division into several distinct parts, they have more the appearance of the remains of different buildings than that of one regular platform surrounded by walls. In this respect they are not unlike the MujelibÉ (Kasr) and the Amran of Babylon. The mounds cover altogether a very considerable area of ground, and stand on the edge of the marsh, which is gradually encroaching upon them, and which occasionally during high floods of the Euphrates completely surrounds them. They are strewed with the usual fragments of brick, glazed and unglazed pottery, and glass. A loose nitrous soil, into which the feet sink above the ankles, forms a coating about a yard deep over a harder and more compact soil. In the ravines large earthen jars and portions of brick masonry are occasionally uncovered by the rains. Commencing my search after antiquities as soon as we had reached the summit of the principal mound, it was not long before I discovered, in one of these newly-formed ruts, a perfect vase, about five feet high, containing human remains. Other objects of the same kind were found by the Arabs who were with me. But I left more careful researches to the time when I could commence excavations below the surface. Leaving, therefore, the ruins, I hastened to the place where my tents were pitched about two miles beyond the ruins on the margin of the marsh. In front of the encampment was a small lake or pond, from which the reeds seemed to have been carefully cleared.

We had sent one of our Afaij guides to inform Sheikh Agab of our approach. I had not been long seated in my tent when suddenly a number of black boats, each bearing a party of Arabs, darted from the reeds and approached the shore. They were of various sizes. In the bottom of some, eight or ten persons sat crouched on their hams; in others, only one or two. Men standing at the head and stern with long bamboo poles of great lightness guided and impelled them. The largest were built of teakwood, but the others consisted simply of a very narrow frame-work of rushes covered with bitumen, resembling probably “the vessels of bulrushes” mentioned by Isaiah.[228] They skimmed over the surface of the water with great rapidity.

The tiradas, for so these boats are called by the Arabs, drew up along the bank in the open basin before our tents. The largest evidently contained three chiefs, who landed and advanced towards me. They were the sons of the Sheikh of the Afaij. Their father had sent them to welcome me to his territories. They brought with them provisions for my caravan, as their village, they said, was still far distant, and it would be impossible to transport our baggage and lead our horses thither before nightfall. The young men were handsome, well-dressed and well-armed, and very courteous. The complexion of these marsh Arabs, from constant exposure to the intense heat of the sun, is almost black, with the usual contrast of eyes of extraordinary brilliancy, and teeth of the whiteness of pearls. They wear their hair in long, well-greased plaits.

The young Sheikhs had been ordered by their father to remain with me during the night, and to place a proper guard round the tents, as the outskirts of the marsh were infested, we were assured, by roving Bedouins and midnight thieves. I gained, as other travellers had done before me, some credit for wisdom and superhuman knowledge by predicting, through the aid of an almanack, a partial eclipse of the moon. It duly took place to the great dismay of my guests, who well nigh knocked out the bottoms of all my kitchen utensils in their endeavor to frighten away the Jins who had thus laid hold of the planet.[229]Soon after sunrise the Sheikh’s own tirada issued from the reeds into the open space. It had been spread with carpets and silken cushions for my reception. The baggage was placed in other boats, but the unfortunate horses, under the guidance of a party of naked Arabs, had to swim the stream, and to struggle through the swamp as they best could. The armed men entered their various vessels, and we all left the shore together.

The tirada in which I sat was skilfully managed by two Arabs with long bamboo poles. It skimmed rapidly over the small lake, and then turned into a broad street cut through green reeds rising fourteen or fifteen feet on both sides of us. The current, where the vegetation had thus been cleared away, ran at the rate of about two miles an hour, and, as we were going towards the Euphrates, was against us. We passed the entrances to many lanes branching off to the right and to the left. From them came black boats filled with Arab men and women carrying the produce of their buffalo herds to the Souk or market.

Herds of buffaloes here and there struggled and splashed amongst the rushes, their unwieldy bodies completely concealed under water, and their hideous heads just visible upon the surface. Occasionally a small plot of ground, scarcely an inch above the level of the marsh, and itself half a swamp, was covered with huts built of reeds, canes, and bright yellow mats. These were the dwellings of the Afaij, and, as we passed by, troops of half-naked men, women, and children issued from them, and stood on the bank to gaze at the strangers.The lanes now became more crowded with tiradas. The boatmen, however, darted by the heavier vessels, turned the sharp corners, and managed their frail barks with great skill and ease. The openings in the reeds began to be more numerous, and it required a perfect knowledge of the various windings and streets to follow the right way. This singular scene recalled vividly to my mind the sculptures of Kouyunjik representing the Assyrian wars in marshes of the same nature, and probably formed by the waters of the same river. The streets through the reeds, and the tiradas or boats of rushes smeared with bitumen, are faithfully delineated in the bas-reliefs, showing how little the barbarous inhabitants of these great swamps have changed after the lapse of nearly three thousand years. If we may judge, however, from the spoil of furniture and of vessels of metal, probably of gold and silver, carried away from them by the conquerors, the ancient tribes appear to have been more wealthy and more ingenious than their descendants.

Soon after entering a narrow canal, we stopped near some larger and better built huts than any we had yet seen. Before them, at the water’s edge, and waiting to receive us, were drawn up a number of armed men, at the head of whom stood a tall, handsome Arab. He was attired in a long robe of scarlet silk of Damascus, over which he wore one of those cloaks richly embroidered in gold thread down the back and one arm, peculiar to Baghdad. This was Agab, Sheikh of the Afaij. As I stepped out of the tirada he threw his arms round my neck, and gave me the usual embrace of welcome.

The chief led us at once to the museef. The guesthouse was built of the same materials as the smaller cabins, but they were far more tastefully put together. It resembled in shape the boiler of some enormous steam-engine. Reeds bound together, were bent into arches at regular intervals, and formed a series of ribs, upon which were stretched the choicest mats. About fifty persons could conveniently sit in this hut. In the centre was the usual array of bright pots and tiny cups ranged in circular trays, round a smouldering fire. A hideous black slave, crouching upon his haunches, was roasting coffee and pounding the fragrant beans in an iron mortar. Down both sides were spread carpets and mats; soft cushions of figured silk were specially prepared for the European guest.

The museef stood at a short distance from the other huts, and in a corner formed by two water-streets branching off at right angles. In front of it was the harem of the Sheikh. It consisted of several cabins in an enclosure formed entirely by walls of reeds and mats. Beyond was a great collection of huts, and in the middle of them the bazars, consisting of double rows of shops, all of the same frail materials. So that this Arab town was built entirely of mats and reeds.

Agab received me in the most friendly manner, and entered at once into my plans for excavating, describing the ruins existing in the neighbourhood. He ordered his people to raise a hut for my servants and the Jebour workmen, and to pitch my tents in the open space opposite the museef. Building is not a lengthy or difficult process where the materials are so simple. Within an hour the mats had been dragged from the harem, the bundles of reeds turned into graceful arches, and the cabin duly covered in. As a dwelling-place, however, the small island on which the Sheikh of the Afaij had thought fit to erect his moveable capital was not perhaps the most desirable in the world. Had the Euphrates risen by any sudden flood we should have been completely under water. My proposition to encamp on the mounds of Niffer was negatived by Agab, on account of the dangers from the Bedouins, evil spirits, beasts of prey, and the like. So I made up my mind to remain at the Souk.

The Sheikh believing I was in search of gold, was always my attendant with his followers. He knew so many authentic instances of enormous wealth having been dug up at Niffer, that it was useless to argue with him upon the subject. He related to me in the usual expressive manner of the Arabs, the following story:—In the time of Hatab, the uncle of Wadi, Sheikh of the Zobeide, a cameleer of that tribe chanced to be at Damascus with his camels. As he was walking one day in the bazar, an aged man accosted him. “O Sheikh of the Caravan,” said he, “I know that thou art from the southern Jezireh, and from the land of the Zobeide. God be praised for sending thee to me! Now there is in that country a great mound, that marks the site of an ancient city of the Unbelievers, called Niffer. Go, dig in the dry bed of the Shat-el-Neel, in the midst of the ruins, and thou wilt find a stone white as milk; bring it to me, and thou shalt have for a reward double the usual hire for thy camels both there and back.” The cameleer was at a loss to guess how the old man knew of the stone, but he did as he had been asked, and in the place described to him he found the white stone, which was just a camel’s burden. He took it to Damascus, and gave it to the Sheikh, who first paid him his just reward, and then broke the stone into pieces before him. It was, of course, full of gold, and the philosopher had learned where it was to be found in the books of the Infidels.

Being thus compelled to remain at the Souk, I fitted up my tent and cabins as well as I was able. The weather was intensely cold, and it was the middle of the rainy season. By the help of mats we were able to keep out the water to a certain extent. The excavations were carried on until the 3rd of February, and I will describe at once their general results.

Niffer, as I have already observed, consists rather of a collection of mounds of unequal height, and irregular form, than of one compact platform, like the principal ruins of Assyria. They may be divided into four distinct groups, each surrounded, and separated from the others, by deep ravines, which have the appearance of ancient streets. The high cone at the north-east corner is probably the remains of a square tower constructed entirely of large sundried bricks. Beneath the cone masonry of sundried and kiln-burnt bricks protrudes from the sides of the ravines. The bricks are generally smaller in dimensions than those from Babylon, and long and narrow in shape. Many of them are stamped with inscriptions in the Babylonian character, containing the name of a king and of the city.

My workmen were divided into gangs, or karkhanehs, as they are called by the Arabs, and were placed in different parts of the ruins. On the first day some cells or recesses containing human remains were discovered.

During the two subsequent days we found many vases and jars of earthenware, some glazed and others plain. With these relics was a bowl, unfortunately much broken, covered with ancient Hebrew characters, similar to those discovered at Babylon. Fragments of similar vessels were afterwards dug out of the ruins.

On the mound of Niffer, as on other ruins of the same period in this part of Mesopotamia, are found numerous fragments of highly-glazed pottery, of a rich blue color, but very coarse and fragile in texture. I was at a loss to conjecture the nature of the objects of which they had originally formed part, until, on the fourth day of the excavations, a party of workmen uncovered a coffin or sarcophagus, of precisely the same material. Within it were human remains, which crumbled to dust almost as soon as exposed to the air. The earthenware was so ill-burnt, and had suffered so much from age, that I was unable to remove this coffin entire. It fell to pieces as soon as I endeavored to detach it from the soil by which it was surrounded. But beneath it was found a second, and subsequently scarcely a day elapsed without the discovery of four or five similar coffins. The largest were about six feet long; some, containing the remains of children, scarcely exceeded three. They were all of nearly the same shape; an oval, about two feet wide, for the head and shoulders of the corpse, joined to a narrow box for the legs and feet. The oval was closed by a detached flat lid; the rest of the coffin was covered, and there was a small hole at the very end. The body must, consequently, have been forced into the sarcophagus from the top or open part.

All these coffins were covered with bright greenish, blue glaze-colored with copper, like that on pottery and bricks from the ruins of Babylon. Some were ornamented with scroll work and other designs; others, with rude figures of men and animals in relief. They were all of the same fragile material. The clay, moreover, having been only partially burnt, had been exposed to the action of the nitre so abundant in the soil. Without considerable care it was impossible to remove any entire, although the surrounding earth was easily detached from them.

Human remains, more or less perfect, were found in all these sarcophagi. Sometimes, as the lid was carefully removed, I could almost distinguish the body, wrapped in its grave clothes, and still lying in its narrow resting-place. But no sooner did the outer air reach the empty crust of humanity than it fell away into dust, leaving only the skull and great bones of the arms and legs to show what these now empty cases had once contained. One or two small cups or vases in the same glazed pottery, and a few beads and engraved gems, were occasionally gathered from the crumbling remains; but no ornaments of gold or silver were discovered at Niffer, though it appears that the Arabs frequently find them in similar coffins from other ruins in southern Mesopotamia. It is remarkable, however, that there were no ornaments whatever in metal in nearly a hundred coffins which I opened at Niffer.

It is impossible to estimate the number of these earthen coffins; the upper part of the mound in some places appeared to consist almost entirely of them. They generally rested one upon the other, but in some cases were separated by a layer of flat bricks or tiles. As fast as the fragments of one were removed a second appeared beneath it; and notwithstanding the number thus taken away, I did not penetrate many feet beneath the surface. In the lower part of Mesopotamia are many ruins in which similar remains are equally abundant. Fragments of glazed pottery, broken from them, are seen on every ancient site to the south of Babylon. According to Mr. Loftus, the vast mound of Wurka is built almost entirely of such coffins, piled one above the other, and consequently many thousands, or rather hundreds of thousands must exist in it alone.

It is difficult to arrive at a very satisfactory conclusion as to the precise date of these remains. My own impression is that they are comparatively modern; that is, that they are to be attributed to a period subsequent to the fall of the Babylonian empire, extending from the second or first century before the Christian era to even the time of the Arab invasion. Colonel Rawlinson entertains, I believe, a different opinion, and would attribute them to a much earlier period. If the great mounds of Niffer be the remains of a Babylonian city, as they probably are, it is evident that that city must have been completely destroyed, and its ruins covered with earth long before a people, afterwards inhabiting the country, could have buried their dead above them.

In one part of the mound, in a kind of recess or small chamber of brick masonry, was discovered a heap of pottery of a yellow color, very thin and fragile, much resembling that still made at Baghdad to hold water in hot weather. Many vases and cups were still entire. With them were fragments of glass bottles, jars, and other vessels; and several highly glazed or enamelled dishes. These relics appeared to be of the same period as the sarcophagi. A large number of coarse jars or urns, some nearly six feet high, were dug out of various parts of the mound. They contained bones of men and animals, and their mouths had been carefully closed by a tile or brick plastered with bitumen.

Although many deep trenches were opened in the ruins, and in the conical mound at the north-east corner, no other remains or relics were discovered. With the exception of a few massive foundations, and the bricks bearing a cuneiform superscription, I much doubt whether anything found at Niffer was of the true Babylonian period. The Arabs have a story that a great black stone exists somewhere in the ruins. I had once conjectured that it might be the identical obelisk said to have been brought by Semiramis from Armenia to Babylon.[230] After I had searched in vain for it, I was assured that it was near some mounds several miles to the east of Niffer. I sent a party of workmen to the spot, but with no better success. On the whole, I am much inclined to question whether extensive excavations carried on at Niffer would produce any very important or interesting results.

In the Afaij bazar I was able to purchase a few relics from the Arabs; they consisted chiefly of cylinders and engraved gems. But even such remains were far more scarce than I had anticipated. A ram in baked clay, with three holes for holding colors or ointments, apparently Babylonian, and a pebble of white marble, on which are rudely engraved two goats before the sacred tree, and a few cuneiform characters, were brought to me from some neighboring ruin. Such were all the antiquities I obtained during my visit to Niffer. With the pottery collected at the mound they are now in the British Museum.

One of my principal objects in journeying into these wild tracts of southern Mesopotamia, was to visit and explore the great mound of Wurka. These remains had already been partly examined, as I have stated, by Mr. Loftus. A highly interesting collection of relics, comprising inscribed clay tablets, glazed pottery, ornaments in metal, and engraved gems, had been obtained by that gentleman during his short residence among the ruins. They are now in the British Museum. Amongst them, and deserving particular notice, are the fragments of a shell, on which are engraved the heads of two horses, apparently part of a subject representing a warrior in his chariot. The outline upon them is not without spirit, but they are principally remarkable for being almost identical with a similar engraved shell found in an Etruscan tomb, and now in the British Museum. This is not the only instance, as it has been seen, of relics from Assyria and Etruria being of the same character,—showing a close connection between the two countries either direct, or by mutual intercourse with some intermediate nation.

Unfortunately the state of the country to the south of the marshes was such that I was unable even to make an attempt to reach the remarkable ruins of Wurka. The great Arab tribe of Montefik, dwelling on the banks of the lower Euphrates, and exercising a certain control over all the smaller tribes inhabiting the southern part of Mesopotamia, was split into opposite factions on account of the rival pretensions of two chiefs. Much blood had already been spilt, and the war was now extending to the Afaij. The surrounding tribes taking advantage of the general confusion and of the unsuccessful attempt of the Pasha to subdue the Maidan Arabs, had openly rebelled against the government, and were laying waste the province and plundering each other. It was, indeed, scarcely possible even to leave the Afaij territory, and Agab, who, like all other Arab Sheikhs, was not without his rival, began to fear an outbreak amongst his own people. He had already been summoned to take part in the war between the two Montefik chiefs, and he was anxious that I should be on safe ground before his troubles commenced. He, therefore, seriously urged me to return to Baghdad.

The Sheikh, with other chiefs of his tribe, was accustomed to pass the evening in my tent. He would on those occasions describe the unsettled and dangerous state of the country, and lament the insecurity caused by the misrule of the Turkish authorities.

At the same time he would entertain me with accounts of the districts to the south of the Afaij, their productions, and the manners of the curious populations inhabiting those vast marshes.The greater part of the country below ancient Babylon has now been for centuries one great swamp. It is, indeed, what the prophet foretold it should be, “a desert of the sea.”[231] The embankments of the rivers, utterly neglected, have broken away, and the waters have spread over the face of the land. The best known of these marshes are the Lemlud, formed by the Euphrates above its confluence with the Tigris at Korna. But they now only form a part of those which are yearly increasing, and threaten to cover the whole of southern Mesopotamia.

The Arab tribes inhabiting them are, as I have already observed, amongst the most wild and ignorant that can be found in this part of Asia. The relations between them and the Porte have generally consisted of little more than a trial of treachery and deceit; and, whilst the Turk looks upon these Arabs as mere wild beasts, they in return have lost all confidence in the faith and honor of the Ottoman government. But it is not so with respect to the English, who have always treated them honorably and kindly, and whom consequently they have allowed to pass to and fro without harm. This respect for the British name is mainly to be attributed to the admirable conduct and management of Captain Jones during the time he has commanded the steamer on the Tigris.

These Arabs are of the Sheeah sect of Mussulmans, and belong to the great tribes of Rubbiyah and Ahl Maidan. Each tribe has innumerable subdivisions, with distinct names and separate and independent Sheikhs. They live in mat huts and in small black tents. Their chief wealth consists in vast herds of buffaloes, and they are, on the whole, notwithstanding the wretched appearance of their dwellings and the scanty clothing of both men and women, richer than most Arab tribes. This is to be attributed to their having hitherto been able, in their almost inaccessible retreats, to defy the Turkish authorities.

Their buffaloes supply them with large quantities of butter and milk; the former is exported, and is a considerable article of trade. These hideous animals appear to thrive in the marshy lands, and some districts actually swarm with them. They are generally inoffensive and easily managed.

These tribes have also flocks of sheep and goats, but the animals are small, and their wool thin, and generally too coarse to form an article of commerce. They raise very little corn and barley; rice, of an inferior quality, forms their principal food.

The marshes and the jungles near the rivers are the retreats of many kinds of wild animals. Lions abound. I have seen them frequently, and during the excavations at Niffer we found fresh traces of their footsteps almost daily amongst the ruins. The Maidan Arabs boast of capturing them in the following manner, and trustworthy persons have assured me that they have seen the feat performed. A man, having bound his right arm with strips of tamarisk, and holding in his hand a strong piece of the same wood, about a foot or more in length, hardened in the fire and sharpened at both ends, will advance boldly into the animal’s lair. When the lion springs upon him, he forces the wood into the animal’s extended jaws, which will then be held open whilst he can dispatch the astonished beast at his leisure with the pistol that he holds in his left hand.

In the jungles are also found leopards, lynxes, wild cats, wolves, hyenas, jackals, deer, porcupines, boars in vast numbers, and other animals. Wild fowl, cranes, and bustards abound, and that beautiful game-bird the francolin, or black partridge, swarms in the low brushwood. The Arabs shoot them with ball. The marshes are full of fish, which attain a considerable size. They are chiefly, I believe, a kind of barbel. Their flesh is coarse and full of bones, but they afford the Arabs a constant supply of food. They are generally taken by the spear.

Although the inhabitants of the marshes recognise some of the laws of the Bedouins, they are wanting in many of the virtues of the Arabs of the Desert. They have, however, several customs relating to the duties of hospitality, which are rigidly adhered to. To say of a Maidan “that he has sold bread,” is to offer him the greatest of insults. To part with a loaf for money is accounted an act bringing disgrace not only upon the perpetrator, but upon his whole family. I found this peculiar custom exceedingly inconvenient during my residence amongst the Afaij. Sheikh Agab insisted upon giving daily to my large party their supplies of bread; and it was impossible to obtain it in any other manner. Even its sale in the public market was forbidden. I was, at length, compelled to send to a considerable distance for flour, and then to employ my own workmen in baking it. The same scruples do not exist with regard to other articles of food. They are sold in the bazar, as in all Eastern towns.

In the souk or bazar, of the Afaij tribe, were exposed for sale a few common Manchester prints—those world-wide evidences of the extent of British trade—English stuffs (printed and dyed at Baghdad called tangebs), keffiehs, Damascus silks, striped abas, dates, rice, coffee, spices, powder and arms, the usual stores of an Eastern market. A few Christian jewellers fashion gold and silver ornaments for the women, and an occasional pedlar from Hillah or Baghdad excites the admiration of the Arabs by the display of a stock of coarse knives, and common European hardware.

The dampness of the soil upon which my tent was pitched, and the unwholesome air of the surrounding marshes, brought on a severe attack of pleurisy and fever. I was soon unable to move from my bed, and was reduced at length to a state of extreme weakness. Fortunately it occurred to me to use a blistering fluid given to me for an injured horse, or I should probably not again have left the Afaij swamps. Notwithstanding the severity of the remedy it gave me immediate relief, and when Hormuzd joined me on the 28th of January, I resolved to make an attempt, without further delay, to reach Baghdad, where I could obtain medical aid. To add to our misfortunes, the rain fell in unceasing torrents for four days, and of course soon made its way through our tents. The waters of the marsh began to rise perceptibly, and the Afaij were preparing to abandon their mat huts, and to seek, in their light tiradas, a safer retreat.

Some days elapsed, however, before I could rise from my carpet. The state of affairs was daily getting worse. Abde Pasha had been suddenly deprived of his government by the Porte on account of the failure of his expedition against the Kazail Arabs, and his fall had increased the general anarchy. It was only by joining a large party of horsemen on their way to the seat of war in the south that Hormuzd had been able to reach Niffer. I found that it was quite impossible to penetrate further into Mesopotamia, and that by remaining much longer amongst the Afaij we ran the risk of being cut off from Baghdad altogether. I determined, therefore, to strike once more into the Desert, where we were less likely to meet with hostile Arabs than in the beaten tracks, and to make a forced march to some village in the neighbourhood of Hillah.

Fortunately I had my own riding horse with me, and his easy paces enabled me to undertake the journey although in a state of complete exhaustion. On the 2d of February, I took leave of Agab, and pitched my tents for the night beneath the mounds of Niffer. Before dawn on the following morning we were urging our horses over the desert plains of the centre of Mesopotamia. Two armed adherents of the Sheikh were with us, rather to act as guides than to protect us from enemies. We travelled without any cause for alarm as far as the great ruin of Zibbliyah. A large body of horsemen then suddenly appeared in the distance. We ascended the mound, and prepared to defend ourselves from this elevated position. But either the Arabs did not perceive us, or were bent upon some warlike expedition which did not admit of delay, for they passed onwards, and left us to continue our journey.

Zibbliyah closely resembles the celebrated ruin of Akkerkuf near Baghdad. It rises from a heap of rubbish in the centre of the Desert, and consists of a solid mass of large, crumbling, sundried bricks, between the courses of which, at certain intervals, are layers of reeds as in many of the Babylonian buildings.

We saw no human habitation until long after nightfall, when we reached the small Arab hamlet of Bashayi. It was surrounded, for defence, by a low mud wall, and some time was spent in a parley and explanation before the timid inhabitants would open their gates to so large a company of strangers. I could hardly remain in my saddle until their fears were set at rest, and we were admitted within the inclosure. At length I tottered into a hovel, thick with smoke, and sank down exhausted, after a ride of fourteen hours and a fortnight’s complete abstinence from food.

My poor Jebour workmen being on foot had been unable to keep up with the caravan during our forced march. They did not reach the village until daybreak, and then in a very sorry plight, for they were stript to the skin. They had approached, in search of water, the tents of some Arabs, and falling in with a plundering party had been robbed of every thing, and left naked in the Desert.

Next morning I had scarcely strength to mount my horse. Hormuzd turned off to Hillah to put a stop to the excavations at Babylon. With the caravan I made another forced march in the beaten track to Baghdad, and reached the khan of Iskanderiyah.

We were now within a few hours of the end of our journey, and leaving the servants and baggage to follow at leisure, I quitted the khan with the Bairakdar before dawn to canter into Baghdad. As the sun rose from the sea-like plain, the great ruin of Ctesiphon appeared above the eastern horizon.

This ruin, with a few mounds and heaps of rubbish scattered around it, is all that now remains of the capital of the Parthian empire. On the opposite bank of the Tigris long lines of earthen ramparts, forming a quadrangle and inclosing the usual signs of former habitations, mark the site of the city built by Seleucus after the last fall of Babylon.

The victorious Arabs, under Saad, the general of the Caliph Omar, pillaged Ctesiphon after they had overthrown the Persian armies in the decisive battle of Cadesia, in the sixteenth year of the Hegira. They found in the palace the throne, the crown, and the standard of the Persian kings, together with a carpet which covered the floor of the great hall, and was of such extraordinary beauty and value that it excited the wonder of the conquerors, and was considered amongst the most precious spoil taken from their enemies.

Ctesiphon and Seleucia received from the Arabs the name of Al Madain, or the twin cities. When Baghdad was founded on the Tigris, a few miles above them, the Caliph Al Mansour wished to pull down the palace of Chosroes for materials to build his own capital. His vizir, who had recently turned from the Magian religion, endeavored to dissuade him. The caliph upbraided him for being but an insincere convert to Islam, and for sympathising with those who still professed his former faith, and whose monuments he therefore wished to preserve. The attempt to destroy the vast edifice was fruitless; but when it was about to be abandoned, the vizir urged his master to persevere, exclaiming, “that if he now ceased to pull down the palace, history would say that Al Mansour with all his power was unable to overthrow that which another prince had built.”

I did not visit Ctesiphon on this occasion; the river separated me from the ruins, and I only mention them in this place to describe a remarkable effect of mirage which I witnessed as I rode towards Baghdad. As the quivering sun rose in unclouded splendor, the palace was transformed into a vast arcade of enormous arches resting upon columns and masses of masonry. Gradually this arcade was, as it were, compressed like the slides of a telescope, but the building gained in height what it lost in length, and one arch slowly appeared above the other, until the ruin assumed the shape of a tower reaching to the sky, and pierced from the base to the summit by innumerable arches. In a few minutes this strange edifice began to melt away into the air, and I saw a magnified, though perfect image of the palace; but upon it was its exact counterpart upside down. Other equally singular changes succeeded until the sun was high in the heavens, and the ruin at length disappeared in the distance. The small bushes of camel-thorn scattered over the Desert were during this time turned into forest trees, and a transparent lake imaged for a fleeting hour in its counterfeit waters the varying forms of the unsubstantial edifice. Although I have seen many extraordinary effects of mirage during my wanderings in the East, I scarcely remember to have witnessed one more striking or more beautiful than that near the ruins of Ctesiphon.

I had just strength left me to reach the gates of Baghdad. Once in the city, under the friendly care of Dr. Hyslop, I soon recovered my health, and was ready to start on fresh adventures.