El Fureidîs

Preface

ADDRESSED TO MR. AND MRS. D. AND DR. C., BUT OPEN TO PUBLIC PERUSAL.

Do you remember, my friends, those winter even ings when I sat with you in a certain pleasant li brary in New York, and listened with attentive ears while you discoursed of past experiences in Eastern lands ? Do you remember how, with maps spread out upon the table, you recalled each familiar scene, and introduced me, novice as I was, into the porch of that temple of historical and sacred lore in which you were already devotees ?

" Always worship the rising sun," was the worldlywise maxim of an old nurse, who exercised a vast influence upon my childhood; and recalling this favorite proverb of my early oracle, I set myself dili gently to the study and comprehension of that mysti cal secret which makes the Orient a charmed land.

In El Fureidis, you behold the result. Stanley took me by the hand, and led me across Sinai into jv PREFACE.

the Canaan of promise. Kelly, with his select com pany, next became my travelling-companion. Porter has been throughout my friend and guide. Rob inson has proved a safe mentor to my inexperi ence. I have shared the adventures and perils of Van de Yelde. Thompson has unfolded to me the details of Syrian life, Churchill has lured me into the mountains of Lebanon, Chasseaud has by his fascinations compelled me to linger there. Burckhardt has introduced me to Bedouin hospitality. Burton has taken me on the sacred pilgrimage, Lamartine has sung for me his sweetest songs.

Here a slice and there a crumb, all these have contributed to satisfy my cravings and supply my need. I have had chance fellow-travellers too, oc casional helpmates, way-side friends. How shall I thank them, who are too many even to name ?

I can but humbly follow their example, and, as they have guided me through scenes of actual romance, pleasure, incident, and danger, invite those who may be so inclined to follow me in my imagi nary experiences, trusting that there are some in whom I may be so fortunate as to awaken an in terest in a land which has aroused my own enthu siasm, and that, pursuing with what patience they may the route which I have trod, they may come at last to feel, like me, at home in El Fureidis.

EL FUREIDIS.

Chapter I

THE sun was setting over that far-famed Eastern land, which, when the Most High divided unto the nations their inheritance, He gave unto his chosen people, — that land which the leader of Israel's hosts saw from afar, though he entered not in, — that land immortalized as the paradise of our earthly parents, the Canaan of a favored race, the birth place and the tomb of prophets, the scene of Jehovah's mightiest works, the cherished spot whence the dayspring from on high has visited us, the blessed soil which the feet of the Prince of Peace have trod.

Lazily on the bosom of that classic sea which skirts the shore of Syria there floats a light and graceful bark, whose dreamy motion, as it skims the tide, harmonizes and keeps pace with the sweet and glowing fancies, the unuttered long ings, the irrepressible awe, which fill the mind of one who, bound on an Oriental pilgrimage, is now nearing the land of promise, of beauty, of ancient records, and of sacred lore. Englishman that he is by birth, scholar that he has become by study, and philosopher that he fain would be, he forgets, in the scene before him, the race from which he sprung, the learning that has made him wise, the logical reasonings of a 1 well-schooled brain, and, prostrate on the vessel's deck, gives himself up, with all the rapture of a poet's enthusiasm, to the emotion of the hour.

The dim and wavy outline of a distant mountain chain, the almost invisible specks upon its sides, and the crest of what seemed at first an airy, floating cloud, are gradually assum ing form and color as the slow-moving vessel draws nearer and nearer to the shore ; — and now the cedar-crowned heights of Lebanon stand boldly out to view, clothed in the deep purple light of the descending sun, white monasteries with lofty towers here and there crown the beetling cliffs, and Mount Carmel rears its cone-like peak in a majesty solemn and sublime, while the gilded waters of the Medi terranean fold the whole in a sheet of living flame.

Now feasting his eager eye upon the harmonious picture, then lifting it with equal wonder and delight to the deepblue canopy of sky above, and anon gazing into the fiery depths below, through which the bark is cutting its trackless way, and all the while breathing in an atmosphere whose purity and fragrance are nowhere else inhaled, the Easternbound traveller acknowledges all his longings satisfied, all his day-dreams realized.

The little merchant-vessel, bound from Cyprus to Beyrout, boasts but scanty accommodations, — a circumstance of which its solitary passenger is far from being disposed to complain, since he owes to it the exclusive occupancy of both deck and cabin. More especially, as he nears the shore of Palestine, and his soul drinks in the inspiration of the scene and hour, does his English reserve find subject for congratulation in the absence of the restless movements, the jargon of tongues, and the inquisitive eyes, which in recent journeyings have often broken in upon and marred the subjects of his reverie.

The breeze is so light and soft, the air so balmy with a thousand sweets, the sky so serene and cloudless, and the stillness so unbroken, that, lulled into a species of trance, midway between sleep and ecstasy, he experiences, even before setting his foot on land, something of the luxury of Oriental repose.

But an Eastern twilight is short, and so was the undis turbed meditation of our traveller. The fading of the pur ple light on the Syrian hills, and the shooting forth of a galaxy of stars, each one of which was like a brilliant gem starting out from its dark background, proved the signal for a tumult and confusion which formed as strong a con trast to the previous stillness as did the darkness of night to the glories of the sunset hour.

The little schooner had come to anchor about a mile from shore, and was at once surrounded by shoals of boats, manned by Arab boatmen, whose shrill voices and eager gestures, as they climbed the vessel's side, seemed to the startled Englishman little less than demoniac. Thus sud denly roused from Elysian dreams to find himself encom passed by a swarm of savages, of whose importunities he was the sole victim, it may well be supposed that his state of mind suffered a no less sudden transition. He felt him self injured, indignant, and resolved to resist.

But what availed his determined attitude, scornful re pulse, and English expostulations, against ignorance of his language and superior physical force ? So hopeless indeed was the contest with numbers, so evident the necessity of availing himself of one of the small craft which lay along side, that, summoning all his philosophy, he wisely con cluded to conform to the customs of the country, and per mit himself to be carried bodily, first to a boat, and then to the opposite shore.

Here new clamors awaited him, — cries of backsheesh, offers of service, and the usual invectives of the disap pointed applicants against their more fortunate, because more prompt and energetic, rivals. By the time he reached the comfortable Hotel de Bellevue, to which his swarthy conductors guided him with ready instinct, his flattering visions of the romance of Eastern life had subsided ; the vivid consciousness of his own individuality had become completely restored, and with it the conviction that a good dinner, a good bed, and all the comforts of a sober English home, were vastly preferable to the excited anticipations and painful realities of a country which presented such abrupt and powerful contrasts.

As if to test, however, the conclusion to which his recent and rough experiences had brought him, and prove the truth that discontent is inherent in the nature of man, he now unexpectedly found himself in circumstances calcu lated to gratify all his national prejudices, and restore him to the normal condition of his being.

Not only-was he conducted to a room furnished in the European style, attended by a waiter in European costume, and accosted in the familiar Saxon tongue, but at dinner he encountered a party of English travellers, who had just returned from the stereotyped tour up the Nile and through the most frequented portions of the Holy Land. The party, moreover, included some old friends of his, — a gentleman who had been his fellow-student at Oxford, a lady who had married a connection of his family, and an army offi cer whom he had met in London. In a word, he found himself restored at once to the familiar atmosphere of home. What more could he ask to fill up the measure of his satisfaction?

And yet, strange to say, this unforeseen encounter only served to bring about a fresh revulsion in his feelings. His countrymen dwelt lightly on the pleasures of their late excursion, talked loudly of its hazards and inconveniences, boasted of their own prowess and indifference to danger, abused the excellent wine of the country, and ended by advising him to secure a dragoman at once, attach himself to a party similar to their own, do up Egypt and Syria in the shortest possible time, and join them in Derbyshire in season for the autumn races.

The ladies talked learnedly of Thebes and the Sphynx, Baalbec and the hidden treasures of Nineveh, interspersing their quotations from the guide-book with inquiries concern ing the Queen's visit to Scotland and anticipations of a gay winter in Paris.

Our fastidious traveller felt an unspeakable thrill of an noyance and disgust. The conversation was natural, harm less, just what might have been expected from the mental calibre of the individuals. Its effect, however, was to excite at once the qualities of his character most antagonistic to the society in which he found himself. The imaginative and poetic enthusiasm of his nature was again aroused. He resolved not only to see Eastern lands, but to imbibe their spirit ; and for this purpose he would travel alone, abjure even the companionship of a dragoman, take the least fre quented routes, and, above all things, avoid any intercourse with his fellow-countrymen.

Accident seemed to facilitate the execution of this pur pose, affording him a prompt opportunity for carrying out his rash and hastily formed project.

His English friends had come from Damascus to Beyrout under the guidance of a professed dragoman, who had in his turn availed himself, among the mountain passes, of the assistance of a youthful Arab, son of a noted desert sheik. This youth, who spoke English with some fluency, and possessed a perfect familiarity with the route between the two cities, had proved an efficient aid upon the journey, and he now came, late at night, to receive the promised compensation for his services. Hearing that he was about to return the next day by a somewhat circuitous route, our traveller immediately conceived the idea of accompanying him. The reserved Englishman forbore any expression of this intention, being anxious to escape the inquiries and ex postulations which would be sure to follow ; but, after bid ding his unsuspecting friends good-night, he sought the youth, made the necessary contract for safe-conduct, and spent the remaining hours until sunrise in hasty prepara tions for the journey, which was to commence at daybreak.

A written apology and farewell sufficed to acquaint his friends with his sudden departure, though it must be ac knowledged that their comments upon the singularity of the proceeding were not unwarrantable.

Nor was it strange that in solemn conclave they summed up those events of his past career which had come under their knowledge, and passed the joint resolution that Mere dith had always been an eccentric fellow, for whose whims there was no accounting.

EL FUKEIDIS.

Chapter II

THE next phase of Eastern life in which we behold our traveller is one of excitement, suffering, and danger. It is the evening of the second day since he left Beyrout, attended only by the youthful Abdoul. Nightfall has overtaken them among the mountains, and the distant thunder betokens an approaching tempest. Worn with fatigue, exhausted and feverish from exposure to the Syrian sun, and riding a horse scarcely less jaded than himself, our hero, despite his love of adventure, contem plates with no little dread the prospect of passing the night, shelterless, and exposed to the fury of the elements. Nor is this the worst he has to fear. Distrust of his guide is superadded to the hardships of the journey, and the senses which would otherwise be benumbed with weariness are now strained to their utmost in apprehension of treach ery. Not that Meredith is by nature cowardly or sus picious. On the contrary, he is a model of manly vigor and accomplishments, while the generosity of his own disposition is such as to encourage confidence in others. But it is no ordinary situation in which he finds himself, and various incidents have occurred on the route calculated to excite him to wariness and prudence.

Both pride and policy, however, forbid his betraying to his Bedouin attendant any symptom of uneasiness, nor, save the simple precaution of keeping constantly in the rear, does he deem it advisable to adopt any defensive measures. Even this prudential order of precedence may be deemed inevitable, since, but for the encouragement afforded by Abdoul's example, the European traveller, skilful rider as he is, would hesitate to spur his horse over the wide chasms, narrow passes, and precipitous descents, which everywhere mark and interrupt their passage. The night is dark, the journey hazardous, and both the gloom and the perils of the way are every moment becoming more appalling. Now and then pale streaks of lightning illumine the wild scene with their ghastly glare, bringing into bold relief the bare and frowning peaks above, the yawning precipices below, and all the dangers of the rough and flint-strown path, which at one moment skirts the edge of an overhanging rock, then winds along the dry bed of a mountain torrent. The sudden darkness which succeeds, the echoing of the thunder as it resounds from crag to crag, and now and then the roar of a neighbor ing cataract, all combine to heighten the awful sternness and grandeur of the place and hour.

Trusting wholly to the sagacity and sure-footedness of his horse, which he no longer attempts to guide, Meredith hails eagerly the lightning flash which enables him to measure the difficulties of the way and scan the face of the youthful Ishmaelite, who successfully veils every emotion, whether of weariness, doubt, or treachery, beneath features of motionless inflexibility. At length, as Meredith finds himself upon a platform of some little breadth, while the steed of Abdoul is already plunging down the fearful declivity which succeeds, the Englishman pauses, and for the first time for some hours addresses the young Arab.

"Abdoul!" he exclaimed.

At the sound of the clear voice ringing through the darkness, Abdoul drew his horse back almost upon its haunches, and, with a surprising feat on the part of both steed and rider, the animal was forced to remount the ascent backwards until it gained the level occupied by Meredith.

" Abdoul, the journey is long, the road fearful, and there is a storm coming on."

" Allah ! you say truly," replied Abdoul with an unmoved air.

" Where are we to find shelter for the night ? " continued Meredith.

" Behind yonder mountain," — and Abdoul pointed to a precipitous mass of rock, which, as the lightning played over it, seemed within a stone's throw.

" And you will guide me there in safety ? "

" Have I not promised ? and is not the written contract sealed with the seal of Abdoul?" answered the youth, proudly.

" But do you know the way ? " questioned Meredith, who believed himself misled, not being able to credit the possi bility that he was pursuing a travelled and recognizable road.

" Does the camel of the desert know the water-spring ? and can the eagle find its nest ? " said the boy, with gravity.

" But the horses ? they are worn out, and cannot carry us much farther."

"Trust them," replied Abdoul; "they will smell their evening meal and the hand that grooms them."

There was a pause. The Englishman forbore further questioning, and the Bedouin, after waiting the word from Meredith, responded to his command to proceed by plung ing once more down the cliff.

An hour of patient travelling succeeded ; the storm had come on with violence, and the fever which burned in the veins of Meredith had given place to a fearful chill as the cold rain drenched him to the skin. And still the promised destination seemed as distant as ever. It was inconceivable to the Englishman that they should be so long in gaining the place of refuge, which, when pointed out an hour before, had been apparently close at hand. He could not forget the mysterious communication which Abdoul had held the previous evening with some stragglers of a Bedouin tribe whom they had encountered on their road ; nor the fierce gesticulations with which the boy had given emphasis to his discourse. While engaged in these and similar reflec tions, a sound of rushing water fell upon his ear, and he soon became conscious that the path was leading him to the verge of a narrow causeway, beneath which, at a distance of more than a hundred feet, there foamed and dashed an impetuous mountain stream. This causeway was a natural bridge of solid rock, suspended over a terrific chasm, and un protected by the slightest barrier. Thick darkness hid the scene from view ; but the roaring of the flood beneath, and the hesitating step of his horse, afforded Meredith sufficient indication of the crisis he had reached in his already suffi ciently perilous expedition. At the same instant he felt his Bedouin guide tightly grasp his right arm, thus rendering powerless the hand wlu'ch held his only weapon of defence, a small pocket-pistol.

Confident that the moment had come when resistance was the truest wisdom, he released himself by a sudden effort of strength from the hold of his seeming antagonist, and with a threatening exclamation raised his pistol. At this critical instant a broad, vivid flash of lightning illu mined earth and sky, revealing a picture as strange and startling as it was sudden and momentary. In the very

EL FUREIDIS. H

centre of the narrow bridge of rock, which hung, as it were, midway between earth and heaven, both horsemen were stationed abreast, having come to a sudden halt. Meredith sat firm and upright in his saddle, Abdoul bent backwards in the position into which he had been thrown by the force oC Meredith's sudden repulse, and the eyes of each gazed into those of the other.

Nothing could be more wildly picturesque than the ta bleau thus presented, nothing more striking than the con trast afforded by the two individuals, each of whom fur nished a fitting type of his own race and nation.

The resolute determination which marked both the face and figure of the European, the calm caution and deepseated distrust evinced both in his countenance and air, were met with equally characteristic indications on the part of the Arab youth, who, with his head thrown back, his thin lips compressed, and his loose garments floating over the verge of the precipice, shot from his eyes such a glance of scorn, that the piercing orbs might have been deemed the central fires from which radiated the mountain lightning.

Not less significant were the words which succeeded this striking pantomime.

"Traitor!" said the Englishman, between his teeth, "would you hurl me over the precipice?"

" Son of an infidel," answered Abdoul, with proud dis dain, " the waters of yonder flood are deep, and the caves of the valley are mute as the grave ; but the Frank shall tread the mountain pass unharmed, for Abdoul has given his word of faith, and the son of Sheik Zanadeen never lies."

Momentary as were the glances thus exchanged, and short as was the dialogue that followed, the effect was no less instantaneous.

To the Englishman the good faith of the Arab was estab lished beyond a question. The scorn with which he met the charge of treachery, the proud words with whjch he re pelled it, not only carried with them conviction of his fidel ity, but excited in the mind of the generous Meredith an involuntary respect and admiration for the true-hearted youth.

The good understanding, however, was far from mutual. The indifference with which the young Bedouin had pre viously regarded Meredith had now given place to a senti ment of a wholly different character. Not only had the lips of the Frank branded him with the base charge of traitor, but the lightning flash had revealed to him a coun tenance, every line of which was darkened with distrust. It was for a moment only, but Abdoul never forgot it.

Maintaining, however, that self-control which marks the Arab even under circumstances of excitement, he quietly resumed his duties as escort and guide, and the next mo ment sufficed to explain the movement which had alarmed Meredith, and given rise to the misunderstanding. The stone causeway upon which they had halted, although ex tremely narrow at the entrance, widened, as we have seen, towards the centre, sufficiently to admit of two horsemen abreast. Abdoul had availed himself of this circumstance to fall back to a position parallel with that of Meredith, in order, by aid of voice and arm, to assist him and encourage his steed in surmounting a difficult ascent which presented itself at the farther extremity of the bridge. It was merely to assure himself of the desired proximity that the youth had in the darkness grasped the arm of Meredith ; and this fact became evident, when, as they actually attempted to climb the smooth, slippery rock, on which the horses could with difficulty obtain a foothold, the jaded animal which

Meredith rode stumbled, and would have fallen but for the assistance promptly rendered by the skilful Bedouin.

This difficulty surmounted, the path became gradually more smooth and practicable, the rain ceased, and the pros pects of the travellers appeared more encouraging, though as yet no place of rest and refreshment was visible.

Half ashamed of the doubts and surmises which, although warranted by the occasion, now seemed to Meredith the effects of a heated and distempered brain, he strove to atone for them by manifesting towards his guide the re newed confidence with which the demeanor of the latter had inspired him, and with this view endeavored to engage the lad in conversation. But Abdoul could not be roused from his taciturnity, and the responses called forth by the questioning of Meredith, although civil, were invariably brief.

They were now descending the mountain whose sum mit they had crossed earlier in the evening, and the moon, having risen from behind a bank of clouds, afforded an uncertain light which partially illumined the prospect. The craggy heights and bluffs which stretched their huge and shapeless masses in every direction were becoming more thickly wooded and verdant with every step of the travellers' progress, but desolate grandeur was still the predominant feature of the landscape. The path the riders were following led around the slope of a tall, projecting cliff, whose dark, frowning side shut in and barred the pros pect, affording only the view of its own pine-clad acclivities above and the deep chasm at its base.

Just as Meredith drew near the point where, by a sudden turning in the road, he might command a view of the opposite valley, a sound fell upon his ear as startling as a trumpet and as welcome as the voice of a friend. It was the clear, ringing note of a deep-toned bell, which, as it reverberated from cliff to cliff, reassured his heart with its familiar welcome to the abodes of men. Its solemn peals were still vibrating among the hills, when other musical tones burst forth from a nearer quarter, mingling with the bass notes which rung out from the opposite cliff, — a plaintive minor strain, forming a perfect concord with the deeper and sterner harmony.

Astonishment gave place to awe, as Meredith listened until the sounds died away upon the air, and awe again yielded to an ecstasy of surprise, as, turning the angle of the mountain precipice, he beheld at a glance what seemed to his enraptured vision a more than earthly paradise.

Reposing in the heart of the mountain, nestling in the giant arms of Lebanon, a lovely and picturesque village lay before him, its white, flat-roofed cottages gleaming in the unclouded splendor of the now brilliant moonlight.

" Behold ! " said Abdoul, checking his horse, and waving his hand in the direction of the highland glen, as if, in presenting it to Meredith, he sealed the fulfilment of his sacred contract, — " behold El Fureidis (the Paradise), the happy valley, — watered by the springs of Barak, — the home of the mountain-rose, — the garden of Lebanon ! "

" A garden indeed ! " thought Meredith, as the delicious perfume of herbs and flowers was borne to him on the summer breeze. " Fit place in which to spend a lifetime ! " he mentally added, as the sweet repose, the calm serenity, of the scene stole in upon his weary senses.

Chapter III

AMID the novelty and excitement of his journey, and the various creeds and nations of which it had presented specimens, Meredith had well-nigh forgotten that it was the evening of the Christian Sabbath.

This recollection was brought to his mind by the familiar sound of bells; but his consciousness of the fact became more vivid, as, descending the mountain slope, and drawing near the little highland village, he was struck with the deep and solemn quiet which pervaded the place.

Even the flat roofs of the dwellings, where Eastern households invariably congregate at night, were all deserted. There was no sound to be heard in court-yard or garden, save here and there the musical plashing of a fountain, the distinctly heard play of whose waters rendered the surrounding stillness more impressive.

"They are in yonder church at the evening worship," said Abdoul, replying to the silent interrogation expressed in Meredith's countenance ; and, without waiting the word of command, he led the way to the village sanctuary.

It was a building of simple, but graceful architecture, perched upon a high projecting platform, and its stone roof and tower of pale yellow limestone gleamed brightly in the moonlight, shedding a glow over the cluster of mountain homes of which it might be termed the crown.

Both travellers alighted at its threshold, and Abdoul?

followed by Meredith, entered noiselessly at the door, which stood invitingly open.

Marvellous and touching was the scene which here pre sented itself. An unwonted awe crept over the heart of Meredith as he gazed and listened, and Abdoul involun tarily assumed an air of respectful attention.

The chief feature in this strange congregation was the figure of an old man, whose hoary locks fell to his shoulders, and whose long, black garments swept the floor of the little platform on which he knelt and prayed. Around him were grouped a crowd of worshippers, whose motley attire, no less than their numerous shades of complexion and varied cast of features, proclaimed them the children of many a different lineage and nation.

Side by side on the marble pavement the Greek and Armenian, the Turk and the native Syrian, offered up a like petition to the common Father of them all ; each head bowed and each knee bent in the same reverent posture, while they listened to the words of one who, in the sim plicity of the Christian faith, preached to them the truth as it is in Jesus.

Like the Apostles of old, the aged man seemed to pos sess the gift of tongues, for his simple offering of prayer and praise was first spoken in English, and then repeated in both Turkish and Arabic, that all might intelligently join in the earnest and devout petition. Not an eye was lifted, not a head raised, until the conclusion of the short but solemn appeal to the throne of grace, and then every voice united in the fervent " Amen ! " after which the whole multitude rose and awaited the continuation of the service.

As the noise which accompanied this simultaneous move ment died away, a few soft notes of sweet and sacred music stole upon the ear, and the strain gradually swelled in sound and volume until at length the air rang with the rich and vibrating notes of an organ played by skilful fingers. Observing the direction of Abdoul's eager gaze, and the straining of his figure to its utmost height, Meredith availed himself of his own superior stature to peer above the heads of the assembly in the quarter whence the music proceeded ; and, although the light which the church afforded was dim and indistinct, his eye at once detected the rapt and youthful organist. She was a young girl of not more than seventeen years, and of a grace and beauty which, combined with her dress, her attitude, and, above all, the nature of her occupation, imparted to her an air of almost seraphic loveliness.