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TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 ^^^,. ■ .. BY THE 
 
 MARQUESS CURZON OF KEDLESTON 
 
 GOLD MEDALLIST (1895) AND PRESIDENT (1911-1914) OF 
 THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY 
 
 Beyond the East, the sunrise, beyond the West, the sea. 
 And East and West, the wander-thirst that will not let me be. 
 
 Oerald Gould, 
 
 NEW Simw YORK 
 GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
Gr4fc3 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1923, 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 TALES OP TRAVEL, n 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 )C1A760798 
 
 NOV '9 1923 
 
 ^\to- I 
 

 ^^ 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. 
 
 Virgil, Aeneid i. 203. 
 
 I WONDER if it may be permitted to a politician 
 to remember the days when he was only sec- 
 ondarily a politician, and when he found the chief 
 zest of life in travel, not indeed in aimless and 
 desultory travel, but in travel with that most gen- 
 erally unpopular of all attributes, a purpose. In 
 my case the purpose was twofold: to see the beau- 
 tiful and romantic and, above all, the ancient 
 things of the earth — ^taste which I probably share 
 with most travellers, but which took me prefer- 
 ably to distant Oriental lands; and, secondly, to 
 see how far the study of those places and peoples 
 would help me to form an opinion on the Eastern 
 responsibilities and destinies of Great Britain. 
 This was a subject in which I took from boyhood 
 an absorbing interest, and which led me to devote 
 many months in each year, and, after I had 
 entered Parliament, the bulk of my Parliamentary 
 holidays, to wanderings in all parts of Asia from 
 the Mediterranean to the China Seas. The results 
 of these studies were embodied long ago in books 
 of a more or less serious character, and I have no 
 intention to repeat any part of that story here. 
 But in the course of these journeys I visited 
 
 vii 
 
viii TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 many other countries and places, twice going 
 round the world, and exploring unfrequented 
 spots, not in Asia only, but in Europe, Africa, 
 and America. In certain of these cases I studied 
 rather deeply some subjects of more than ephem- 
 eral interest, I came across some remarkable per- 
 sons, and I made notes of many curious scenes. 
 I have found it a diversion, in the turmoil of 
 public life, to put these notes into final shape, and 
 have even thought that they might prove of in- 
 terest to a larger audience. 
 
 After I had spent some years in travelling and 
 in writing about my travels, it gave me greater 
 pleasure to be awarded the Gold Medal of the 
 Royal Geographical Society for exploration and 
 research than it did to become a Minister of the 
 Crown; and every moment that I could snatch 
 from politics^ — ^before they finally captured and 
 tied me down — I devoted to the pursuit of my 
 old love. 
 
 Even now, if in rare moments I seek literary 
 distraction, it is in the perusal of works of travel 
 and exploration that I am certain to find it; and 
 when foreign affairs are specially vexatious or 
 perplexing, recreation and repose come stealing in 
 upon me from the memories of the past. I am 
 once again in the wilds of Asia, or on the moun- 
 tain-tops, or amid the majestic monuments of 
 bygone ages. At one moment the wonders of 
 nature fill the picture, at another, the scarcely less 
 remarkable masterpieces of man. The shut pages 
 of the past unroll, and the characters written upon 
 
INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 them a quarter of a century and more ago start 
 again to life. 
 
 On these occasions I remember, ahnost with a 
 start, that it is the middle-aged and sedentary 
 pohtician who in the early nineties shot Ovis Poll 
 on the Pamirs, who nearly foundered in a typhoon 
 off the coast of Annam, and was reported as 
 murdered in Afghanistan. I am again the 
 youthful rover who was stoned by furious Span- 
 iards on the quays of Valencia; who climbed to 
 the crater of Etna in deep snow by night to wit- 
 ness the glory of the sunrise over Sicily and the 
 Straits; who saw the cone of Adam's Peak throw 
 its shadow, also at sunrise, over the folded mist 
 wreaths that smoked above the steaming valleys 
 of Ceylon; who stayed with Amir Abdur Rahman 
 Khan at Kabul, and with the afterwards murdered 
 Mehtar of Chitral; who arrested the Abbot of a 
 Korean monastery for steahng his watch and 
 purse, and was himself arrested as a spy in 
 Khorasan and in Wakhan; who was wrecked off 
 the coast of Dalmatia, and explored the source of 
 the Oxus; who wrote travel books that, mirabile 
 dictUj still find readers and have appreciated in 
 value; and who even composed an Oxford Prize 
 Essay in the cabin of a steamer on the Nile. 
 
 Sometimes, as I recall those days, I find myself 
 reviving memories or telling tales that seem to 
 belong to a past that is quite dead, not merely 
 by reason of the change in my own environment, 
 but also because of the revolution in the conditions 
 of travel, or in the state of the peoples and lands 
 
X TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 which I visited. For instance, in some countries 
 where I rode thousands of weary miles on horse- 
 back, the traveller now proceeds rapidly and com- 
 fortably by carriage or motor, or even by train. 
 In other countries — as, for instance, Korea, which 
 at the time of my visit in 1892 was still inde- 
 pendent and had a Court and a King — political 
 changes have brought about a transformation not 
 less startling. And so it comes into my mind that 
 there may be something in the experiences of 
 those days that may be worthy of record before 
 I have forgotten them, and which other people 
 will perhaps not have the chance of repeating in 
 exactly the same way. 
 
 The following pages contain these memories. 
 They include nothing that has been published in 
 any of my other books, and they have nothing to 
 do with politics. They relate to many parts of the 
 world, but principally to the East, which has al- 
 ways been to me the source of inspiration and 
 ideas. Most of the papers are of no great length, 
 and only a few are learned. Whether I ought to 
 advertise or to apologise for the latter must be 
 left to the judgment of my readers. All relate 
 to places or incidents lying somewhat outside the 
 ordinary run of travel. Had I written a volume 
 of political memoirs, could I have hoped to escape 
 controversy? As it is, nothing that I have set 
 down will, I trust, excite dispute. The genuine 
 traveller quarrels with nobody — except his prede- 
 cessors or rivals, a temptation which I have been 
 
INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 careful to avoid. All countries are his washpot. 
 All mankind is his friend. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking testimony that I could 
 offer to the change that has passed over the scenes 
 of my earlier journeys — and incidentally also to 
 the chronically unstable equilibrium of the East 
 — ^would be a reference to the dramatic fate that 
 has befallen so many of the rulers and statesmen 
 with whom I was brought in contact, and some of 
 whom appear in these pages, in the days to which 
 I refer. Shah Nasr-ed-Din of Persia, my audi- 
 ence with whom at Teheran in 1889 is mentioned 
 later on, perished in 1896 by the weapon of an 
 assassin. The ruler of Chitral with whom I stayed 
 in 1894 was shot and killed by the half-brother 
 who had sat at table with him and me only two 
 months before. The Emperor of Annam, who 
 presented me with a golden decoration at Hue in 
 1892, was deposed in 1907 and subsequently ban- 
 ished. The poor little King of Korea, who con- 
 versed with me in low whispers at Seoul in 1892, 
 first saw his Queen murdered in the Palace and 
 was afterwards himself forced to abdicate. His 
 son, who struck me as the stupidest young man I 
 ever met, shared the same fate. Deposition was 
 the fate of the trembling figure of Norodom, the 
 King of Cambodia, whom I visited at Pnompenh. 
 The Amir of Bokhara, whom I saw in his capital 
 in 1888, was afterwards expelled from his country 
 and throne. Abbas Hilmi, whom Lord Cromer 
 took me to visit at Cairo, soon after he had 
 
xii TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 ascended the Khedivial throne, is also a fugitive 
 and an exile. The life of that eminent Japanese 
 statesman, the Marquis Ito, who was so friendly 
 to me when I was in Japan, was cut short by the 
 knife of an assassin. Almost alone among the 
 Eastern potentates whose guest I was, the Amir 
 Abdur Rahman Khan, who told me that he lived 
 in daily fear of his life, but that his people had 
 not the courage to kill him, died in his bed. But 
 of his two sons with whom I used to dine at 
 Kabul, the elder, Habibulla, was murdered in his 
 tent, and the younger, INTasrulla, languishes in 
 prison. His Commander-in-Chief, known as the 
 Sipah Salar, a gigantic figure, 6 feet 3 inches in 
 height, and of corresponding bulk, who rode at 
 my side from Dacca to Jellalabad on my way to 
 Kabul in 1904, died suddenly a few years later in 
 circumstances which left little doubt that his end 
 was not natural. 
 
 Even in Europe my diaries refer to more than 
 one similar tragedy. As far back as 1880 I recall 
 a visit to the picturesque castle of Herrenhausen 
 in Bavaria, where, in a room adorned exclusively 
 with furniture and decorations in the shape of 
 swans, I heard the steady tramp overhead, as he 
 passed to and fro, of the mad King of Bavaria, 
 who ended by drowning himself in a lake. I 
 recall very clearly, and others have related, the 
 incidents of a dinner with King George of Greece, 
 who came to his death at the hand of an assassin 
 in the streets of Salonika. 
 
 These incidents illustrate no more uncommon 
 
INTRODUCTION xiii 
 
 phenomenon than that the lives of monarehs and 
 statesmen are subject to exceptional and fatal 
 risks, particularly in the East. But as I recall 
 the features and tones of those ill-fated victims, 
 so famous or so prominent in their day, a chasm 
 appears to open between me and the time when I 
 saw them in the plenitude of their strength and 
 power — and I seem to be almost living in a world 
 of different circimistances and different men. 
 
 I have said that this volume, which, if it be found 
 acceptable, will be followed by a successor, is in- 
 tended to be descriptive rather than didactic in 
 object, and that I hope not so much to instruct 
 as to entertain. But a few of my subjects may 
 be thought to make a more sober claim, or to de- 
 mand a more definite apology. The portrait of 
 the Afghan Amir, with whom I was the only 
 Englishman to stay at Kabul in a private and 
 unofficial capacity, is the likeness of one of the 
 most remarkable men of his time — a man who, 
 had he lived in an earlier age and not been crushed, 
 as he told me, hke an earthenware pot between 
 the rival forces of England and Russia, might 
 have founded an Empire, and swept in a tornado 
 of blood over Asia and even beyond it. The 
 paper entitled " The Voice of Menmon," in the 
 investigations with regard to which I was assisted 
 by my old Oxford tutor, J. L. Strachan David- 
 son, afterwards Master of Balliol, may, I hope, 
 be regarded as a positive contribution to histor- 
 ical and archaeological research. The " Singing 
 Sands " is an essay on a subject which has always 
 
xiv TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 greatly interested me — ^namely, the mysterious 
 moaning and muttering of the sands in desert 
 places, as a rule far removed from ordinary ken — 
 and which has never before been treated with the 
 fulness which it deserves. When I began this 
 essay I intended it merely to be a synopsis of the 
 cases of musical or sounding sands of which I had 
 previously heard descriptions or attempted the 
 investigation. But, as I proceeded, the subject 
 expanded, until I found myself producing a trea- 
 tise which may possibly fill a modest place in the 
 scientific literature of travel, while the story may 
 still appeal to the dilettante reader by reason of 
 its mystery and romance. 
 
 There are many other aspects of travel, apart 
 from its incidents or experiences, which I should 
 like to examine, but which must be deferred to 
 a later volume. Among these is a study of the 
 Philosophy of Travel — its character, history, pur- 
 pose, methods, justification, and results; and a 
 chapter or more on the Literature of Travel — a 
 subject that, to the best of my knowledge, has 
 never received attention save perhaps in the casual 
 pages of a magazine. 
 
 Here, however, I conclude with a reflection that 
 will certainly not offend by its seriousness. The 
 joy of travel, while it is being pursued, lies in a 
 good many things: in the observation of new peo- 
 ples and scenes, in the making of discoveries, in 
 the zest of sport or adventure, in the pleasures of 
 companionship or the excitement of new acquaint- 
 ance, even in the collection of often valueless ob- 
 
ROPE BRIDGE IN THE HINDU KUSH 
 
 [xv 
 
INTRODUCTION xvii 
 
 jects, and the achievement of purely illusory bar- 
 gains. But I think that even more does it consist 
 in the half-intangible but still positive memories 
 that it leaves. One can make friends with places 
 as well as people; and an hour's, even a minute's, 
 experience in one spot may be more precious than 
 a sojourn of months in another. These are the 
 intimacies that survive, and constitute a perpetual 
 endowment. With them we can always solace the 
 hoiu^s, whether of idleness or gloom. 
 
 Whereas the experiences of life at home, even 
 when they are not conmionplace, are apt to fade 
 quickly, and sometimes to be completely forgotten, 
 the incidents of travel, a quarter or even half of 
 a century ago, stand out indelibly as though 
 graven in steel. Each of us has his own museum 
 of such recollections. Among mine not the least 
 prized are these: the music of many nightingales 
 floating across the water from the coasts of 
 Athos; the incredible glory of Kangchenjunga as 
 he pierces the veils of the morning at Darjiling; 
 the crossing of a Himalayan rope-bridge, sagging 
 in the middle, and swaying dizzily from side to 
 side, when only a strand of twisted twigs is 
 stretched between your feet and the ravening tor- 
 rent below; the first sight of the towered walls, 
 minae murorum ingentes, of Peking; the head 
 and shoulders of an Indian tiger emerging with- 
 out a suspicion of sound from the thick jungle 
 immediately in front of the posted sportsmen; the 
 stupendous and terraced grandeur of Angkor 
 Wat; the snowy spire of Teneriffe glimmering at 
 
xviii TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 sunrise across a hundred miles of ocean; the 
 aethereal and ineffable beauty of the Taj. 
 
 I am not going to trouble my readers by saying 
 anything about these particular mind-pictures in 
 this book. I merely record them in passing, as a 
 part of my own spiritual possession, just as others 
 will have and will cherish theirs. The things that 
 I have preferred to set down here are experiences 
 or memories rather less personal and fugitive, 
 which I may be justified in inviting others, even 
 though on paper and in print only, to share, and 
 which, here and there, may give them a few mo- 
 ments of entertainment or reflection. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 INTRODUCTION vii 
 
 One 
 
 THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 25 
 
 Two 
 THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN .... 63 
 
 Three 
 THE VOICE OF MEMNON 101 
 
 Four 
 THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI .... 141 
 
 Five 
 THE GREAT WATERFALLS OF THE WORLD . 163 
 
 Six 
 
 " LEST WE FORGET " 187 
 
 I The Death-bed of Sir Heney Lawrence 187 
 
 II The Billiard Table of Napoleon . . 194* 
 
 Seven 
 
 THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 209 
 
 xix 
 
XX TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Eight 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PAGES FROM A DIARY 233 
 
 I The Dancing Giel of Keneh, 
 
 II The Aeab Runaway at Nejep 
 
 III The Robber of Khagan 
 
 IV The Greek Executioner 
 
 V By the Waters of Babylon 
 
 VI The Havildar of Sarhad. 
 
 VII In the Buiiii Ring . 
 
 VIII The Maharaja's Adjuration 
 
 IX The Young Judge . 
 
 233 
 235 
 241 
 
 2m 
 
 249 
 251 
 257 
 261 
 264 
 
 Nine 
 
 HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 269 
 
 I The " Pig and Whistle " at Bunji . 269 
 
 II The Top Hat at Teheran.. . . 274 
 
 III The Entry into Kabul . . . 277 
 
 IV The Annamite Girl .... 283 
 V The State Entry into Datia . . 285 
 
 VI The Curiosity of Li Hung Chang . 289 
 
 VII The State Entry into Koweit . . 295 
 
 VIII The Captured Colonel . . .303 
 
 IX How I Won a Vote . . . . 306 
 
 Ten 
 
 THE SINGING SANDS . . ,. . . . 313 
 
 INDEX .... . . . . . 399 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 LoKD CuEzoN OP Kedleston . . . FroTitispiece 
 
 PAGH 
 
 Rope Beidge in the Hindu Kush . . . xv 
 
 The Geeat Mosque, Kaiewan .... 29 
 
 Amie Abdue Rahman Khan 61 
 
 Map of Afghanistan, Peepaeed and Cieculiated 
 
 BY Amie Abdue Rahman Khan ... 68 
 
 Signed Lettee feom Amie Abdue Rahman Khan 80 
 
 The Vocal Memnon (Right-hand Figuee) . 105 
 
 VicTOEiA Falls, Feont View . . . .147 
 
 VicTOEiA Falls (Rain Foeest on Left) . .153 
 
 VicTOEiA Falls, Mouth op Goege . . .157 
 
 Kaieteue Falls in Dey Season . . . .165 
 
 Kaieteue Falls in Flood 171 
 
 Iguasu Falls 175 
 
 The Geesoppa Falls . ., . . . .179 
 
 SiE Joseph Fayej:e's House (with the Alteeed 
 
 Insceiption) at Lucknow .... 191 
 
 LoNGWOOD (Napoleon's Billiaed Room on Left) 195 
 
 Inteeioe of Napoleon's Billiaed Room . . 199 
 
 Plantation House, St. Helena (Billiaed Room 
 
 ON Left) 203 
 
 Japanese Weestlees 221 
 
 Nejef 237 
 
 Saehad . 253 
 
 xxi 
 
xxii TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Sir N. Chamberlain, Hon G. Curzon, H. Len- 
 
 NARD, AND P. LuKE AT BuNJI . . . 271 
 
 Lord Sawsbury, Li Hung Chang, Hon. G. Cur- 
 zon, AND Sir F. Bertie at Hatfield, 1896 . 291 
 The Victoria on the Shore at Koweit . . 297 
 Body-guard of Sheikh of Koweit . . . 301 
 
 Reg-i-Ruwan 323 
 
 Jebel Nakus 339 
 
One 
 THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 
 
One 
 THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 
 
 And they cried aloud,, and cut themselves after their manner 
 with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them. 
 
 1 Kings xviii. 28. 
 
 IN the spring of 1885 I was in Tunis. At no 
 time in recent history a very interesting place, 
 it had, since the French usurpation of 1881, lost 
 what little characteristic individuality it then pos- 
 sessed. The Bey was a harmless puppet. His 
 palace, which visitors flocked to see, was very 
 much like gilt gingerbread with a good deal of the 
 gilding rubbed off. The bazaars were inferior to 
 those of Constantinople, Damascus, and Cairo; 
 and the town, once so famous for its unblemished 
 Orientalism, had blossomed into the tawdry splen- 
 dour of boulevards, cafes, and four-storied hotels. 
 I knew, however, from the map, that Kairwan 
 was situated only about one hundred miles to the 
 south; and Kairwan was a place that had long 
 exercised over my mind a mystic fascination. 
 There was something very dramatic and inspiring 
 in the story of this secluded city, the capital of a 
 great conqueror twelve centuries ago, the metropo- 
 lis of a mighty empire, the shrine of an imposing 
 religion, and the refuge of both religion and em- 
 
 25 
 
26 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 pire when Europe had driven them forth. Even 
 in its long decline Kairwan had been the rallying- 
 point and haunt of pilgrimage to the Uving, and 
 the last resting-place to the dead, for the thousand 
 tribes that profess the faith of the Prophet from 
 the Pillars of Hercules to the Nile. For twelve 
 hundred years inviolate — its sanctuaries undefiled 
 by foot of Christian or of Jew — at length the 
 holy city had yielded up its secrets to the martial 
 ambitions of a newly fledged European republic; 
 and the great Mosque of Okbar, and the tomb- 
 chamber of Sidi Sahab, the companion of the 
 Prophet, had been profaned by the sacrilegious 
 feet of the Zouaves of France. And yet, even in 
 her desolation, ravished and forlorn, she still re- 
 tained the halo of sanctity with which centuries 
 had adorned her brow. Though the enemy was 
 within her gates, she was his superior by reason 
 of a majesty which none could gainsay. Kairwan 
 still appealed to the imagination with resistless 
 persuasiveness of accent, and to Kairwan I deter- 
 mined that I must go. 
 
 Twelve hours in a French steamboat brought 
 me at dawn on a brilliant morning to the little 
 port of Susa, which lay in its glittering garb of 
 whitewash — houses, walls, and roofs all drenched 
 and crusted with the same unmitigated and blind- 
 ing hue — looking like some great sea-mew preen- 
 ing its snowy plumage on the shore. With the 
 assistance of a courteous Maltese gentleman, who 
 was trading in the place, I engaged a carriage and 
 four (saddle-horses were unknown) for the jour- 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 27 
 
 ney to Kairwan. It was not, I may remark, an 
 equipage which would have provoked envy, though 
 it would undeniably have excited wonder, in 
 Hyde Park. However, it did very well for the 
 purpose; the animals covered the thirty-six miles 
 in the respectable time of six hours; and the some- 
 what barbaric and inelegant structure of the 
 vehicle was, I found, only too successfully adapted 
 to resist the excruciating inequalities of the road. 
 
 I was informed at Susa that the French, who 
 were in military occupation both of Susa and 
 Kairwan, had constructed a little railroad of nar- 
 row gauge between the two places, on which ran 
 cars pulled by horses. At another time it might 
 have been possible to obtain permission to travel 
 by this easy route ; but I found all Susa astir with 
 the annual visit of the French Commander-in- 
 Chief in Africa, a certain General Boulanger, who 
 was going up to Kairwan on the same afternoon. 
 I judged it better, therefore, not to intrude, but 
 to content myself with the more humble native 
 resources which I have described. 
 
 The road, on leaving Susa, climbed to the sum- 
 mit of the hill, which is crowned by the kasbah, or 
 citadel, and then struck westwards over the almost 
 level expanse. I have called it a " road," but it is 
 only by an abuse of terms that it could be so 
 designated, for it was merely a broad track which 
 straggled at random across the desert, plunging 
 over dried-up ditches and watercourses, beaten 
 hard by the hoofs of camels and horses, and worn 
 into agonising ruts by the wheels of waggons. It 
 
28 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 traversed first a belt of olive orchards — ^many of 
 the trunks as wizened and gnarled as the veterans 
 of Gethsemane or the Academe — next a district 
 growing barley and esparto grass, past the great 
 marsh of Sidi El Hani and the tomb of the saint 
 whose name it bears, and finally lost itself in the 
 arid and herbless desert which is the threshold of 
 the mighty Sahara. 
 
 For miles before reaching my destination I had 
 seen outlined against the purple of the remote 
 hills a white streak, from the end of which sprang 
 up a lofty tower. In the intense and palpitating 
 heat this line appeared to quiver above the ground, 
 and from time to time lost all semblance of reality. 
 But as we drew nearer it gained form and dis- 
 tinctness, and was soon discernible as the white- 
 washed and battlemented wall of a purely oriental 
 city. Above its crenelated summit gleamed a 
 hundred minarets and cupolas and domes. The 
 tall tower was the minaret of the Mosque of 
 Okbar. I had reached the ojxcpaXo? yt}? of the de- 
 vout Mussulman of Africa. 
 
 As I approached the city walls I could see that 
 something unusual was occurring. The mounds 
 outside, which mark the ruins of vanished suburbs, 
 were crowded with picturesque groups of natives, 
 while in the plain below were gathered several 
 hundred turbaned cavaliers in gorgeous accoutre- 
 ments and streaming robes of white, some of them 
 motionless and in serried formation, others dash- 
 ing furiously to and fro, brandishing their weap- 
 ons, and with tihe sharp points of their cruel shovel- 
 
[29 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 31 
 
 stirrups making the beasts they bestrode execute 
 wild curvets. These were the sheikhs and war- 
 riors of the various Bedawin tribes, who were now 
 in nominal subjection to the French, and had been 
 summoned from far and near to do honour to the 
 general. On the walls of the town, daubed in 
 huge characters upon the staring plaster, I read 
 the words — last affront to the defenceless old for- 
 tress — Boulevard Boulanger. The general was 
 evidently the hero of the hour. 
 
 A little later he himself arrived — a smart figure, 
 with close-cropped hair and pointed brown mous- 
 tache and beard. Attended by a ghttering staff, 
 he moimted a fine horse at a short distance from 
 the terminus of the railway, and presently reviewed 
 the native cavalry, whom he addressed in a highly 
 laudatory speech, the pith of which was that they 
 were the finest soldiers in the world, next to the 
 French — a remark which, when transmitted to 
 their imderstanding through an interpreter, was 
 received with the liveliest marks of satisfaction. A 
 display of equestrian skill on the part of the 
 horsemen followed, and for long the space outside 
 the walls was a bewildering scene of dust and gal- 
 loping horses and shouting men. When night fell 
 there succeeded the imbroken calm that reigns in 
 an oriental city after simset. 
 
 During the few days of my stay in Kairwan I 
 saw the principal mosques and objects of interest. 
 In order to effect this purpose it was necessary 
 to be provided with a special permit from the 
 French Commander. Prior to 1881 no Christian 
 
32 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 had ever penetrated into the interior of a Kair- 
 wanese mosque. The rare travellers who reached 
 the town were either hastily conducted through the 
 streets and bidden to depart, like Sir Grenville 
 Temple in 1830, and Lord Waterford, who ten 
 years later narrowly escaped being stoned, or were 
 only tolerated within the walls so long as they 
 made no attempt to intrude upon the sacred pre- 
 cincts. This was the case with Sir W. Gregory 
 in 1858, M. Victor Guerin in 1861, Mr. Rae in 
 1876, and Lord and Lady Bective in 1881. When, 
 however, the city capitulated without resistance to 
 the French in October 1881, and was occupied by 
 their troops, many persons profited by the early 
 licence of victory to visit the hitherto inviolate 
 shrines. Since then the permission had been 
 wisely curtailed by the French, with whose ca- 
 pacity for assimilation with the natives I was 
 throughout my visit most agreeably impressed; 
 and my hosts, certain Maltese who supplied the 
 French army with forage and exported half a to 
 England, informed me that leave was now by no 
 means easy to obtain. 
 
 As they were very much afraid of losing their 
 own contract, and dared not approach the Gen- 
 eral on my behalf, representing him as an austere 
 man, given to count his talents, I called myself, 
 and was civilly presented with the requisite order. 
 Armed with this talismanic document, I visited the 
 great Mosque of Okbar, and passed through the 
 carven doors into the vast and darkened liwan, or 
 prayer-chamber, with its two hundred interior 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 33 
 
 columns and its forest of diverging aisles — a faint 
 adumbration of the greater glories of Cordova — 
 and stood in the mihrab, or prayer-niche, the holy 
 of holies, where the kibleh points the worshipper's 
 eye and guides his thoughts to the still more sacred 
 East. I climbed the triple tower whence every 
 morning and evening is waved the blood-red flag 
 that calls the faithful to prayer, and from which 
 is seen stretched out below the panorama of the 
 seven-sided city with its countless cupolas and 
 towers, its intricate alleys and terraced walls, to 
 where beyond the gates extend the scattered 
 suburbs and now decaying cemeteries of the dead. 
 I saw the hallowed well of Kefayat^ or plenty, the 
 waters of which communicate by subterranean 
 channels with those of Zem-Zera at Mecca, as is 
 conclusively proved by the fact that the drinking- 
 eup of a pious pilgrim dropped into the Meccan 
 font reappeared floating on the surface at Kair- 
 wan. 
 
 I saw too the mosque of the most recent 
 marabout, or saint — Sidi Emir Abadah, who 
 flourished only thirty years before, and who had 
 such an influence over the then reigning Bey that 
 he persuaded him to defray the cost of the seven- 
 domed mosque that was to contain his remains 
 after death, and was held in such veneration by 
 the natives that four huge modern anchors, which 
 repose in a courtyard outside, and which he trans- 
 ported with infinite difficulty across the desert 
 from the sea-coast near Tunis, were still believed 
 by them, in deference to the holy man's explana- 
 
34. TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 tion, to be those which moored the Ark of Noah, 
 after its long wanderings, to the soil of Ararat. 
 
 Lastly, I came to the particularly sacred shrine 
 of Sidi Sahab, or Sidi EF Owaib, My Lord the 
 Companion, a disciple of Mohammed himself, 
 who, dying at Kairwan in the seventh century, 
 and leaving instructions that he should be interred 
 with three hairs from his master's beard, which 
 he always carried in a pouch upon his breast, had 
 been appropriately transformed by local tradition 
 into the barber of the Prophet. This mosque, 
 which is, if possible, of even greater sanctity than 
 that of Okbar, I had some difficulty in entering. 
 The custodian, an acid and sulky Moslem, was 
 strenuous in protest and fertile in excuse. The 
 terms of my order stated that I was to be admitted 
 to all or any of the mosques of Kairwan. This, 
 he declared, was not a mosque but a zaouia, or col- 
 lege; such an institution being, indeed, attached 
 to the premises. When I overruled this objection, 
 he was swift as lightning with another. The 
 words of the order referred, he said, to mosques 
 in Kairwan; this was outside the walls. I was 
 obliged to put it very plainly to the cunning 
 zealot whether he would prefer to admit me, with 
 the prospect of a bakshish, or compel me to return 
 at once and report his disobedience to the Com- 
 mander. Whether it was the bribe or the menace 
 that prevailed I do not know; anyhow, I gained 
 my object, and was conducted through courts em- 
 bellished with marble pillars and sparkling Sara- 
 cenic tiles to the recess where stands the sacred 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 35 
 
 sepulchre, fenced round with a grating of bronze, 
 and covered with a pall of black velvet, embroid- 
 ered with Arabic inscriptions in silver, while above 
 depend thirteen silken banners, offerings of devo- 
 tion from successive Beys. 
 
 And now I come to that which was the main 
 incident of my stay in Kairwan. One of the 
 peculiar features of the place is the number of 
 zaouiaSj or colleges of religious orders, which there 
 exist. Of these fraternities, which have each a 
 separate discipline and ritual, and number many 
 thousand members, with corresponding branches 
 in all parts of the Mussulman world, the most 
 famous are those of the Zadria, Tijania, and 
 Aissaouia; and of these three by far the most re- 
 markable is the last. This sect of dervishes was 
 founded by one Mahomet Ibn Aissa, a celebrated 
 marabout of Mequinez, in Morocco; and his dis- 
 ciples, who are scattered through all the principal 
 coast-towns of North Africa, but are especially 
 congregated at Mequinez and Kairwan, perpetu- 
 ate his teaching, and open to themselves the gates 
 of heaven, by self-mutilation when in a state of 
 religious ecstasy or trance. Visitors at Bona, 
 Constantine, and Algiers have sometimes, on pay- 
 ment of a sufficient bakshish^ witnessed an emas- 
 culated version of these rites, and have variously 
 ascribed them to mercenary display or to skilful 
 imposture. The latter has been, perhaps, the 
 more popular interpretation, Englishmen being 
 very reluctant to believe that any one will endure 
 physical torture for the sake of religion, or still 
 
36 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 more, that such tortures as those described could 
 be inflicted, not only without injury to the patients 
 themselves, but, as alleged, to their intense de- 
 light. Aware of the number and importance of 
 this sect at Kairwan, I was very anxious to wit- 
 ness one of their zikrSj or services, and to form my 
 own opinion. Unluckily, it appeared that I had 
 just missed their weekly ceremonial, which had 
 been held on the very evening before I arrived. 
 A happy thought of one of my Maltese friends 
 enabled me to rectify this mischance, and to sat- 
 isfy my curiosity. 
 
 In the morning as we were walking through the 
 bazaars one of these gentlemen, who was of a 
 humorous turn and who was interested in the suc- 
 cess of my visit, introduced me to the native Gov- 
 ernor of the city, a fine and portly Arab, as the 
 son of General Boulanger. Though the general 
 was a young-looking man, such a connection was 
 in respect of years just within the bounds of pos- 
 sibihty. Moreover, our arrivals in the town had 
 coincided, and I had been seen in his company. 
 Good or bad, the idea was greedily swallowed by 
 the Governor; burning to testify his loyalty, he 
 overwhelmed me with profuse courtesies, followed, 
 as the day wore on, by frequent cups of coffee 
 and many cigarettes. 
 
 The genial credulity of the Arab supplied the 
 very machinery that was wanted to arrange a per- 
 formance of the Aissaouia. What could be more 
 natural than that the son of the French general 
 should wish to see the most distinctive spectacle 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 37 
 
 of Kairwan? Such a petition might even be in- 
 terpreted as a semi-official comphment to the 
 Moslem faith. My Maltese friends were dehghted 
 at the notion, and could not rest till they had paid 
 a special visit to the sheikh, or mohaddem, of the 
 sect, with the intimation that no less a personage 
 than Boulanger fils was desirous of witnessing one 
 of their famous celebrations. The sheikh was noth- 
 ing loth, and accordingly it was arranged that on 
 the same night at 9 p.m. I should be conducted to 
 the sanctuary of Aissa. 
 
 When the appointed hour arrived, I presented 
 myself at the mosque, which is situated outside 
 the city walls, not far from the Bab-el-Djuluddin, 
 or Tanners' Gate. Passing through an open 
 courtyard into the main building, I was received 
 with a dignified salaam by the sheikh, who forth- 
 with led me to a platform or divan at the upper 
 end of the central space. This was surmounted 
 by a ribbed and whitewashed dome, and was sepa- 
 rated from two side aisles by rows of marble col- 
 imins with battered capitals, dating from the 
 Empire of Rome. Between the arches of the roof 
 small and feeble lamps — ^mere lighted wicks float- 
 ing on dingy oil in cups of coloured glass — ostrich 
 eggs, and gilt balls were suspended from wooden 
 beams. From the cupola in the centre hung a 
 dilapidated chandelier in which flickered a few 
 miserable candles. In one of the side aisles a 
 plastered tomb was visible behind an iron lattice. 
 The mise en scene was unprepossessing and 
 squahd. 
 
38 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 My attention was next turned to the dramatis 
 personae. Upon the floor in the centre beneath 
 the dome sat the musicians, ten or a dozen in 
 number, cross-legged, the chief presiding upon a 
 stool at the head of the circle. I observed no in- 
 strument save the darahoohdh, or earthen drum, 
 and a number of tambours, the skins of which, 
 stretched tightly across the frames, gave forth, 
 when struck sharply by the fingers, a hollow and 
 resonant note. The rest of the orchestra was 
 occupied by the chorus. So far no actors were 
 visible. The remainder of the floor, both imder 
 the dome and in the aisles, was thickly covered 
 vrith seated and motionless figures, presenting in 
 the fitful light a weird and fantastic picture. In 
 all there must have been over a hundred persons, 
 all males, in the mosque. 
 
 Presently the sheikh gave the signal for com- 
 mencement, and in a moment burst forth the 
 melancholy chant of the Arab voices and the 
 ceaseless droning of the drums. The song was not 
 what we should call singing, but a plaintive and 
 quavering wail, pursued in a certain cadence, now 
 falling to a moan, now terminating in a shriek, but 
 always pitiful, piercing, and inexpressibly sad. 
 The tambours, which were struck like the key- 
 board of a piano, by the outstretched fingers of 
 the hand, and occasionally, when a louder note was 
 required, by the thumb, kept up a monotonous 
 refrain in the background. From time to time, at 
 moments of greater stress, they were brandished 
 high in the air and beaten with all the force of 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 39 
 
 fingers and thumb combined. Then the noise was 
 imperious and deafening. 
 
 Among the singers, one grizzled and bearded 
 veteran, with a strident and nasal intonation, sur- 
 passed his fellows. He observed the time with 
 grotesque inflections of his body; his eyes were 
 fixed and shone with religious zeal. 
 
 The chant proceeded, and the figures of the 
 singers, as they became more and more excited, 
 rocked to and fro. More people poured in at the 
 doorway, and the building was now quite full. I 
 began to wonder whether the musicians were also 
 to be the performers, or when the latter would 
 make their appearance. 
 
 Suddenly a line of four or five Arabs formed 
 itself in front of the entrance on the far side of 
 the orchestra, and exactly opposite the bench on 
 which I was sitting. They joined hands, the right 
 of each clasped in the left of his neighbour, and 
 began a lurching, swaying motion with their bodies 
 and feet. At first they appeared simply to be 
 marking time, first with one foot and then with 
 the other; but the movement was gradually com- 
 municated to every member of their bodies; and 
 from the crown of the head to the soles of the feet 
 they were presently keeping time with the music 
 in convulsive jerks and leaps and undulations, the 
 music itself being regulated by the untiring or- 
 chestra of the drimis. 
 
 This mysterious row of bobbing figures seemed 
 to exercise an irresistible fascination over the 
 spectators. Every moment one or other of these 
 
40 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 left his place to join its ranks. They pushed their 
 way into the middle, severing the chain for an 
 instant, or joined themselves on to the ends. The 
 older men appeared to have a right to the centre, 
 the boys and children — for there were youngsters 
 present not more than seven or eight years old — 
 were on the wings. Thus the line ever lengthened; 
 originally it consisted of three or four, presently 
 it was ten or twelve, anon it was twenty-five or 
 thirty, and before the self-torturings commenced 
 there were as many as forty human figures 
 stretching right across the building, and all rock- 
 ing backwards and forwards in grim and ungrace- 
 ful unison. Even the spectators who kept their 
 places could not resist the contagion; as they sat 
 there, they unconsciously kept time with their 
 heads and shoulders, and one child swung his little 
 head this way and that with a fury that threatened 
 to separate it from his body. 
 
 Meanwhile the music had been growing in in- 
 tensity, the orchestra sharing the excitement which 
 they communicated. The drummers beat their 
 tambours with redoubled force, lifting them high 
 above their heads and occasionally, at some ex- 
 treme pitch, tossing them aloft and catching them 
 again as they fell. Sometimes in the exaltation 
 of frenzy they started spasmodically to their feet 
 and then sank back into their original position. 
 But ever and without a pause continued the in- 
 sistent accompaniment of the drums. 
 
 And now the oscillating line in front of the 
 doorway for the first time found utterance. As 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 41 
 
 they leaped high on one foot, alternately kicking 
 out the other, as their heads wagged to and fro 
 and their bodies quivered with the muscular strain, 
 they cried aloud in praise of Allah. '' La ilaha ill 
 Allah! " (There is no God but Allah) — ^this was 
 the untiring burden of their strain. And then 
 came " Ya Allah! " (O God) and sometimes " Ya 
 Kahhar! " (O avenging God), " Ya Hakk! " (O 
 just God), while each burst of clamorous appeal 
 culminated in an awful shout of "Ya Hoo! " 
 (O Him). 
 
 The rapidity and vehemence of their gesticula- 
 tions were now appalling; their heads swung back- 
 wards and forwards till their foreheads almost 
 touched their breasts, and their scalps smote 
 against their backs. Sweat poured from their 
 faces; they panted for breath; and the exclama- 
 tions burst from their mouths in a thick and ster- 
 torous murmur. Suddenly, and without warn- 
 ing, the first phase of the zikr ceased, and the 
 actors stood gasping, shaking, and dripping with 
 perspiration. 
 
 After a few seconds' respite the performance 
 recommenced, and shortly waxed more furious 
 than ever. The worshippers seemed to be gifted 
 with an almost superhuman strength and energy. 
 As they flung themselves to and fro, at one mo- 
 ment their upturned faces gleamed with a sickly 
 polish under the flickering lamps, at the next their 
 turbaned heads all but brushed the floor. Their 
 eyes started from the sockets; the muscles on their 
 necks and the veins on their foreheads stood out 
 
42 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 like knotted cords. One old man fell out of the 
 ranks breathless, spent, and foaming. His place 
 was taken by another, and the tmnultuous orgy 
 went on. 
 
 Presently, as the ecstasy approached its height 
 and the fully initiated became melhoos, or pos- 
 sessed, they broke from the stereotyped litany 
 into demoniacal grinning and ferocious and bes- 
 tial cries. These writhing and contorted objects 
 were no longer rational human beings, but savage 
 animals, caged brutes howling madly in the de- 
 lirium of hunger or of pain. They growled like 
 bears, they barked like jackals, they roared like 
 lions, they laughed hke hyaenas; and ever and 
 anon from the seething rank rose a diabolical 
 shriek, like the scream of a dying horse, or the yell 
 of a tortured fiend. And steadily the while in the 
 background resounded the implacable reverbera- 
 tion of the drums. 
 
 The climax was now reached ; the requisite pitch 
 of cataleptic inebriation had been obtained, and 
 the rites of Aissa were about to begin. From the 
 crowd at the door a wild figure broke forth, tore 
 off his upper clothing till he was naked to the 
 waist, and, throwing away his fez, bared a head 
 close-shaven save for one long and dishevelled 
 lock that, springing from the scalp, fell over his 
 forehead like some grisly and funereal plume. A 
 long knife, somewhat resembling a cutlass, was 
 handed to him by the sheikh, who had risen to his 
 feet and who directed the phenomena that ensued. 
 Waving it wildly above his head and protruding 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 43 
 
 the forepart of his figure, the fanatic brought it 
 down blow after blow against his bared stomach, 
 and drew it savagely to and fro against the un- 
 protected skin. There showed the marks of a long 
 and livid weal, but no blood spurted from the gash. 
 In the intervals between the strokes he ran swiftly 
 from one side to the other of the open space, tak- 
 ing long stealthy strides like a panther about to 
 spring, and seemingly so powerless over his own 
 movements that he knocked blindly up against 
 those who stood in his way, nearly upsetting them 
 with the violence of the collision. 
 
 The prowess or the piety of this ardent devotee 
 proved extraordinarily contagious. First one and 
 then another of his brethren caught the afflatus 
 and followed his example. In a few moments 
 every part of the mosque was the scene of some 
 novel and horrible rite of self-mutilation, per- 
 formed by a fresh aspirant to the favour of Allah. 
 Some of these feats did not rise above the level 
 of the curious but explicable performances which 
 are sometimes seen upon English stages — e.g,, of 
 the men who swallow swords, and carry enormous 
 weights suspended from their jaws; achievements 
 which are in no sense a trick or a deception, but 
 are to be attributed to abnormal physical powers 
 or structure developed by long and often perilous 
 practice. In the Aissaiouian counterpart of these 
 displays there was nothing specially remarkable, 
 but there were others less commonplace and more 
 difficult of explanation. 
 
 Several long iron spits or prongs were produced 
 
44 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 and distributed; these formidable implements were 
 about two and a half feet in length, and sharply 
 pointed, as they terminated at the handle in a cir- 
 cular wooden knob about the size of a large 
 orange. There was great competition for these 
 instruments of torture, which were used as fol- 
 lows. Poising one in the air, an Aissaioui would 
 suddenly force the point into the flesh of his own 
 shoulder in front just below the shoulder blade. 
 Thus transfixed, and holding the weapon aloft, he 
 strode swiftly up and down. Suddenly, at a sig- 
 nal, he fell on his knees, still forcing the point into 
 his body, and keeping the wooden head upper- 
 most. Then there started up another disciple 
 armed with a big wooden mallet, and he, after a 
 few preliminary taps, rising high on tiptoe with 
 uplifted weapon would, with an ear-splitting yell, 
 bring it down with all his force upon the wooden 
 knob, driving the point home through the shoulder 
 of his comrade. Blow succeeded blow, the victim 
 wincing beneath the stroke, but uttering no sound, 
 and fixing his eyes with a look of ineffable delight 
 upon his torturer, till the point was driven right 
 through the shoulder and projected at the back. 
 Then the patient marched backwards and for- 
 wards with the air and the gait of a conquering 
 hero. At one moment there were four of these 
 semi-naked maniacs within a yard of my feet, 
 transfixed and trembling, but beatified and trium- 
 phant. And amid the cries and the swelter, there 
 never ceased for one second the sullen and menac- 
 ing vociferation of the drums. 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 45 
 
 Another man seized an iron skewer, and, placing 
 the point within his open jaws, forced it steadily 
 through his cheek until it protruded a couple of 
 inches on the outside. He barked savagely like 
 a dog, and foamed at the lips. 
 
 Others, afflicted with exquisite spasms of hun- 
 ger, knelt down before the chief, whimpering like 
 children for food, and turning upon him implor- 
 ing glances from their glazed and blood-shot eyes. 
 His control over his following was supreme. 
 Some he gratified, others he forbade. At a touch 
 from him they were silent and relapsed into 
 quiescence. One maddened wretch who, fancying 
 himself some wild beast, plunged to and fro, roar- 
 ing horribly and biting and tearing with his teeth 
 at whomever he met, was advancing, as I thought, 
 with somewhat truculent intent in my direction 
 when he was arrested by his superior and sent 
 back cringing and cowed. 
 
 For those whose ravenous appetites he was con- 
 tent to humour the most singular repast was pre- 
 pared. A plate was brought in, covered with huge 
 jagged pieces of broken glass, as thick as a shat- 
 tered soda-water bottle. With greedy chuckles 
 and gurglings of delight one of the hungry ones 
 dashed at it, crammed a handful into his mouth, 
 and crunched it up as though it were some exqui- 
 site dainty, a fellow-disciple calmly stroking the 
 exterior of his throat, with intent, I suppose, to 
 lubricate the descent of the imwonted morsels. A 
 little child held up a snake or sand-worm by the 
 tail, placing the head between his teeth, and 
 
46 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 gulped it gleefully down. Several acolytes came 
 in, carrying a big stem of the prickly pear, or fico 
 d'lndiaj whose leaves are as thick as a one-inch 
 plank, and are armed with huge projecting thorns. 
 This was ambrosia to the starving saints; they 
 rushed at it with passionate emulation, tearing at 
 the solid slabs with their teeth, and gnawing and 
 munching the coarse fibres, regardless of the 
 thorns which pierced their tongues and cheeks as 
 they swallowed them down. 
 
 The most singular feature of all, and the one 
 that almost defies beHef, though it is none the less 
 true, was this^ — that in no case did one drop of 
 blood emerge from scar, or gash, or wound. This 
 fact I observed most carefully, the mohaddem 
 standing at my side, and each patient in turn 
 coming to him when his self-imposed tortm*e had 
 been accomplished and the cataleptic frenzy had 
 spent its force. It was the chief who cunningly 
 withdrew the blade from cheek or shoulder or 
 body, rubbing over the spot what appeared to me 
 to be the saliva of his own mouth; then he whis- 
 pered an absolution in the ear of the disciple and 
 kissed him on the forehead, whereupon the patient, 
 but a moment before writhing in maniacal trans- 
 ports, retired tranquilly and took his seat upon 
 the floor. He seemed none the wdyrse for his 
 recent paroxysm, and the wound was marked only 
 by a livid blotch or a hectic flush. 
 
 This was the scene that for more than an hour 
 went on without pause or intermission before my 
 eyes. The building might have been tenanted by 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 47 
 
 the Harpies or Laestrigones of Homer, or by- 
 some inhuman monsters of legendary myth. Amid 
 the dust and sweat and insufferable heat the 
 naked bodies of the actors shone with a ghastly 
 pallor and exhaled a sickening smell. The atmos- 
 phere reeked with heavy and intoxicating fumes. 
 Above the despairing chant of the singers rang the 
 frenzied yells of the possessed, the shrieks of the 
 hammerer, and the inarticulate cries, the snarling 
 and growhng, the bellowing and miauling of the 
 self-imagined beasts. And ever behind and 
 through all re-echoed the perpetual and pitiless 
 imprecation of the drums. 
 
 As I witnessed the disgusting spectacle and lis- 
 tened to the pandemonium of sounds, my head 
 swam, my eyes became dim, my senses reeled, and 
 I believe that in a few moments I must have 
 fainted, had not one of my friends touched me on 
 the shoulder, and, whispering that the mohaddem 
 was desirous that I should leave, escorted me hur- 
 riedly to the door. As I walked back to my 
 quarters, and long after through the still night, 
 the beat of the tambours continued, and I heard 
 the distant hum of voices, broken at intervals by 
 an isolated and piercing cry. Perhaps yet further 
 and more revolting orgies were celebrated after 
 I had left. I had not seen, as other travellers 
 have done, the chewing and swallowing of red-hot 
 cinders/ or the harmless handling and walking 
 
 iFor an account of this exploit, vide Lane's Modern Egypticms, 
 cap. XXV.; and compare the description of Richardson, the famous 
 fire-eater, in Evelyn's Memoirs for October 8, 1672. 
 
48 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 upon live coals. I had been spared that which 
 others have described as the climax of the glut- 
 tonous debauch, viz., the introduction of a live 
 sheep, which then and there is savagely torn to 
 pieces and devoured raw by these unnatural ban- 
 queters. But I had seen enough, and as I sank 
 to sleep my agitated fancy pursued a thousand 
 avenues of thought, confounding in one grim 
 medley all the carnivorous horrors of fact and 
 fable and fiction. Loud above the din and discord 
 the tale of the false prophets of Carmel, awakened 
 by the train of association, rang in my ears, till I 
 seemed to hear intoned with remorseless repetition 
 the words, " They cried aloud and cut themselves 
 after their manner with knives and lancets, till the 
 blood gushed out upon them " ; and in the ever- 
 receding distance of dreamland, faint and yet 
 fainter, there throbbed the inexorable and unfal- 
 tering deUrium of the drums. 
 
 Years afterwards, when he was in retirement, 
 and a little while before the melancholy catas- 
 trophe that ended his life, I met General Bou- 
 langer at a private house in London. The alert 
 and springy figure and the blonde hair of the 
 youthful general had been replaced by the in- 
 creasing bulk and the grizzled beard of the middle- 
 aged civilian, and he wore a more paternal aspect 
 than when I had figured for a short time as his 
 son. But I refrained from disclosing the fact 
 that I had ever stood to him, even in masquerade, 
 in a filial relationship, or that I owed to him my 
 unforgettable experience of the drums of Kairwan. 
 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 49 
 
 Perhaps the most comic feature of the tale re- 
 mains to be told. At the time of my visit to 
 Kairwan, I had just become a Member of Par- 
 hament in England; and the story of my innocent 
 deception appeared in some of the English news- 
 papers. So good an opening for electioneering 
 propaganda was not to be lost: and the Radical 
 newspapers of my constituency did not hesitate to 
 point out the fraudulent and unscrupulous nature 
 of the individual to whom the truth-loving electors 
 of Southport had been so foolish as to entrust their 
 representation. Now it is all forgotten; and there 
 only lingers in my memory like a faint echo from 
 a shadowy distance the remote and melancholy 
 pulsation of the drums of Kairwan, 
 
Two 
 THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 
 
Two 
 THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 
 
 He civilised his people and himself remained a savage. 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
 One still strong man in a blatant land 
 Who can rule and dare to lie. 
 
 Tennyson, "Maud** (slightly adapted). 
 
 I HAVE never before narrated the circum- 
 stances in which I came to visit the capital 
 and court of the famous Afghan ruler. Amir 
 Abdur Rahman Khan. I had devoted so many- 
 years to the study of the Central Asian problem — 
 the security of the Indian frontier; the policy of 
 Russia, then in the full tide of her career of 
 Asiatic aggression and conquest ; the part that was 
 being played in the drama by all the countries 
 lying on the glacis of the Indian fortress, Persia, 
 Baluchistan, Afghanistan, Tibet, China — and I 
 had explored so many of these regions myself, 
 that I was beyond measure desirous to visit that 
 one of their number which, though perhaps the 
 most important, was also the least accessible, and 
 to converse with the stormy and inscrutable figure 
 who occupied the Afghan throne, and was a source 
 of such incessant anxiety, suspicion, and even 
 alarm to successive Governments of India as well 
 as to the India Office in London. 
 
 63 
 
54 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 I knew that the Amir was intensely mistrustful 
 of the Calcutta Government, and I thought it not 
 impossible that he might be willing to converse 
 with*an Englishman who had been the Minister 
 responsible for the Government of India in the 
 House of Commons in London, who was still, 
 though no longer in office, a member of that 
 House, and who had for some years written and 
 spoken widely, though always in a friendly spirit, 
 about the defence of the Indian frontier, and the 
 importance of intimate relations with Afghanistan. 
 Accordingly in the spring of 1894 I wrote a per- 
 sonal letter to the Amir, in which I confessed 
 these desires, explained to him my impending 
 programme of travel in the Himalayas and the 
 Pamirs, and sought his permission to visit him at 
 Kabul in the latter part of the year. 
 
 After expatiating with more than Oriental 
 hyperbole upon all these considerations, I added a 
 passage in which I felt a modest pride: 
 
 Khorasan I have seen and visited; I have been in 
 Bokhara and Samarkand ; I have ridden to Chaman, and 
 I have sojourned at Peshawur. But the dominions of 
 Your Highness, which are situated in the middle of all 
 these territories, like unto a rich stone in the middle of a 
 ring, I have never been permitted to enter, and the person 
 of Your Highness, which is in your own dominions like 
 unto the sparkle in the heart of the diamond, I have not 
 been fortunate enough to see. Many books and writings 
 have I studied, and have talked to many men; but I 
 would fain converse with Your Highness who knows more 
 about these questions than do other men, and who will 
 
3:HE amir of AFGHANISTAN 55 
 
 perhaps be willing to throw upon my imperfect under- 
 standing the full ray of truth. 
 
 Apart, however, from the hoped-for invitation 
 from the Amir — never before extended to any 
 Englishman except to those in his personal em- 
 ploy, or to an official Mission from the Govern- 
 ment of India, such as that of their Foreign Sec- 
 retary, Sir Mortimer Durand — ^there were other 
 and formidable difficulties to be overcome. The 
 Home Government (Lord Kimberley was then 
 Secretary of State for India) viewed my project 
 with some anxiety ; the attitude of the Government 
 of India was veiled in a chilly obscurity, which was 
 not dissipated until I arrived at Simla in the early 
 autimm to plead my own case. Sir Henry Brack- 
 enbury, then Military Member, and a man of great 
 ability and much imagination, was my one friend; 
 the Commander-in-Chief, Sir George White, was 
 noncommittal; the Viceroy, Lord Elgin, hesi- 
 tated. At a meeting of the Executive Council, 
 however, it was decided to let me cross the fron- 
 tier (on my return from the Pamirs), provided 
 that a direct invitation from the Amir arrived in 
 the interim; but I was told that I must go as a 
 private individual (which was exactly what I de- 
 sired), and that the Government of India would 
 assume no responsibility for my safety. 
 
 It was while I was in camp in the Gurais val- 
 ley in Kashmir, on my way to the Gilgit fron- 
 tier, that I received a telegram from Kabul an- 
 nouncing the invitation of the Amir. From that 
 
56 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 moment all my anxieties were at an end, and it 
 remained only for me to get through my Pamir 
 explorations in safety in order to realise my su- 
 preme ambition in the later autumn. Nearly three 
 months later, on November 13, 1894, I rode alone 
 across the Afghan Frontier at Torkham beyond 
 Lundi Khana, and consigned myself to the care 
 of the God-Granted Government, and to the hos- 
 pitality of its Sovereign. 
 
 And now let me say something about the per- 
 sonality and career of that remarkable man, so 
 that my readers, to whom his name is perhaps now 
 little more than a memory, may know what sort 
 of being it was with whom I was about to spend 
 long days in friendly intercourse, and who was to 
 reveal to me, with an astonishing candour, his 
 innermost thoughts and ideas. 
 
 Bom in 1844, Abdur Rahman Khan was the 
 eldest son of Dost Mohanmied, the celebrated 
 Afghan ruler who had been alternately the foe 
 and the protege of the British Government. He 
 was therefore by birth and inheritance the direct 
 and legal heir of his grandfather, and the recog- 
 nised head of the Barukzai clan. It may be a con- 
 solation to reluctant students and to naughty boys 
 at large to know, as the Amir himself told me, 
 that up till the age of twenty he declined to learn 
 either to read or to write, and that at a time when 
 most European lads have their knees imder a desk 
 he was engaged in manufacturing rifled gun- 
 barrels and in casting guns. It was in 1864, the 
 year following upon the death of the Dost, that 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 57 
 
 he first appeared in public life, being appointed 
 to a Governorship in Afghan Turkestan; and 
 after that date there were few elements of ro- 
 mance or adventure that his career did not con- 
 tain. Here victorious in battle (for he was a 
 born soldier), there defeated; now a king-maker 
 in his own country, anon a fugitive from its bor- 
 ders ; for a time the powerful Governor of the Cis- 
 Oxian provinces, and presently^ an exile in the 
 courts of Meshed, Khiva, and Bokhara; later on 
 a pensioner of the Russians at Samarkand, and, 
 finally, the British nominee upon the throne of a 
 recovered Afghanistan, for nearly forty years, 
 whether in the forefront or the background, he 
 presented the single strong figure whose mascu- 
 line individuality emerged with distinctness from 
 the obscure and internecine and often miserable 
 drama of Afghan politics. 
 
 It was he who placed, first his father Afzul, and 
 afterwards his uncle Azim, on the throne; and 
 when, Afzul having died and Azim having been 
 defeated by a younger brother, Shere Ali, he was 
 obliged to flee from his country into a ten years' 
 exile, it was with the conviction, which he never 
 abandoned, that his services would again be called 
 for and that he would assuredly return. 
 
 For this purpose he accepted a Russian pen- 
 sion (the greater part of which was, he told me, 
 systematically filched from him by peculation) 
 and resided at Samarkand, in order that he might 
 be near to the Afghan frontier whenever the 
 emergency should arise. The Russians never quite 
 
58 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 recovered from their astonishment that one who 
 had been a recipient of their hospitahty and their 
 pay should, in later years, after recovering the 
 throne, have pursued a policy so little in accord 
 with Russian aspirations; and for a while they 
 consoled themselves with the reflection that this 
 was a mere ruse, and that the true Russophil 
 would appear later on. These expectations were 
 sadly disappointed; for although he did not care 
 for the British much, Abdur Rahman disliked the 
 Russians far more, and had a very shrewd idea of 
 the fate that a Russo- Afghan alliance would bring 
 upon his country. Incidentally, he told me that 
 while a refugee in Russia he secretly learned the 
 language, and never enjoyed himself more than 
 when he heard the Russian officers discussing their 
 real policy in the presence of the seemingly 
 simple-minded and unsophisticated Afghan. 
 
 In 1878 his opportunity came, when Shere Ali, 
 inveigled by Russian promises to his doom, threw 
 off the British alliance, and brought a British 
 army into his country, thereby forfeiting first his 
 throne, and, a little later, his life. Crossing the 
 frontier, Abdur Rahman overran the whole coun- 
 try, and by 1880 had acquired so commanding a 
 position that when, after the treachery of Yakub 
 Khan and the open hostility of Ayub, the Indian 
 Government were looking out for a suitable can- 
 didate for the throne, they had no alternative but 
 to take the single strong man in the country, 
 whom they forthwith installed as ruler, and then 
 retired. 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 59 
 
 In the thirteen years that elapsed before my 
 visit the Amir had consoHdated his rule over one 
 of the most turbulent people in the world by force 
 alike of character and of arms, and by a relentless 
 savagery that ended by crushing all opposition 
 out of existence, and leaving him the undisputed 
 but dreaded master of the entire country. No 
 previous sovereign had ever ridden the wild 
 Afghan steed with so cruel a bit, none had given 
 so large a measure of unity to the kingdom; there 
 was not in Asia or in the world a more fierce or 
 uncompromising despot. Such was the remark- 
 able man whose guest I was for more than a fort- 
 night at Kabul, living in the Salam Khana or 
 Guest House, immediately overlooking the moat 
 of the Ark or Citadel. The Amir was residing in 
 a neighbouring two-storied house or villa, sur- 
 rounded by a high wall, and known as the Bostan 
 Serai. In the grounds of this place he now lies 
 buried. Our meetings and conversations took 
 place in a large room in that building. They 
 usually commenced at noon or 1 p.m. and lasted 
 for some hours. 
 
 I do not propose to narrate here the long con- 
 versations, mainly of a political character, in 
 which the Amir indulged, because, as I have be- 
 fore said, I do not wish this volume to become a 
 pohtical treatise, and because much of what he 
 said was intended to be confidential. Later on, 
 however, I shall narrate one of his most charac- 
 teristic harangues about his impending visit to 
 England, the invitation to which he accepted 
 
60 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 through me, since it reveals many of the most in- 
 teresting traits of his shrewd but imtutored intel- 
 lect. In the intervals, however, of these quasi- 
 political conversations the Amir would talk dis- 
 cursively about almost every topic under heaven; 
 while, during my stay, I heard many anecdotes of 
 his curious character and amazing career. 
 
 Perhaps before I come to these I may say a few 
 words about his external appearance and mien. 
 A man of big stature though not of great height, 
 of colossal personal strength, and of correspond- 
 ing stoutness of frame when in his prime, he was 
 much altered by sickness when I saw him from 
 the appearance presented, for instance, by the 
 photographs taken at the Rawal Pindi Durbar in 
 1885. The photograph that I reproduce repre- 
 sents him as he was at the time of my visit in 
 1894. He suffered greatly from gout, and one of 
 the favourite amusements or jests of the native 
 compositor in the Indian Press was to convert 
 " gout " into " government " and to say, not with- 
 out truth, that the Amir was suffering from "a 
 bad attack of government." 
 
 A large, but in no wise unwieldy figure sitting 
 upright upon silken quilts, outspread over a low 
 charpoy, or bedstead, the limbs encased in close- 
 fitting lamb's wool garments; a fur-lined pelisse 
 hanging over the shoulders, and a spotless white 
 silk turban wound round the conical Afghan 
 skull-cap of cloth of silver, or of gold, and com- 
 ing low down on to the forehead; a broad and 
 jnassive countenance with regular features, but 
 
AMIR ABDUR RAHMAN KHAN 
 
 [61 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 63 
 
 complexion visibly sallow from recent illness; 
 brows that contracted somewhat as he reflected 
 or argued; luminous black eyes that looked out 
 very straightly and fixedly without the slightest 
 movement or wavering, a black moustache close 
 clipped upon the upper lip, and a carefully 
 trimmed and dyed black beard, neither so long 
 nor so luxuriant as of yore, framing a mouth 
 that responded to every expression, and which, 
 when it opened, as it not unfrequently did, to 
 loud laughter, widened at the corners and dis- 
 closed the full line of teeth in both jaws; a voice 
 resonant but not harsh, and an articulation of sur- 
 prising emphasis and clearness ; above all, a manner 
 of unchallengeable dignity and command — this was 
 the outward guise and bearing of my kingly host. 
 I may add that for stating his own case in an 
 argument or controversy the Amir would not easily 
 find a match on the front benches in the House 
 of Commons; whilst if he began to talk of his 
 own experiences and to relate stories of his ad- 
 ventures in warfare or exile, the organised minute- 
 ness and deliberation with which each stage of the 
 narrative proceeded in due order was only equalled 
 by the triumphant crash of the climax, and only 
 exceeded by the roar of laughter which the 
 denouement almost invariably provoked from the 
 audience, and in which the author as heartily 
 joined. Like most men trained in the Persian 
 literary school (Persian being the language of the 
 upper classes in Afghanistan), the Amir was a 
 constant quoter of saws and wise sayings from 
 
64 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 that inexhaustible well of sapient philosophy, that 
 Iranian Pope, the Sheikh Saadi. 
 
 The Amir's appearance, like that of most Ori- 
 entals, was greatly enhanced by his turban. I 
 never saw him in the sheepskin koldh or kalpak 
 of his military uniform. On one occasion when 
 we were talking about his visit to England he 
 removed his turban and began to scratch his head, 
 which was shaved quite bald. In a moment he 
 was transformed from the formidable despot to 
 a commonplace and elderly man. I implored him 
 when he came to London never to remove his tur- 
 ban or scratch his head ; and, when I told him my 
 reason, his vanity was at once piqued, and he prom- 
 ised faithfully to show himself at his best. 
 
 His characteristics were in some respects even 
 more remarkable than his features. This terribly 
 cruel man could be affable, gracious, and consid- 
 erate to a degree. This man of blood loved scents 
 and colours and gardens and singing birds and 
 flowers. This intensely practical being was a prey 
 to mysticism, for he thought that he saw dreams 
 and visions, and was convinced (although this was 
 probably only a symptom of his vanity) that he 
 possessed supernatural gifts. Generous to those 
 who were useful to him, he was merciless to any 
 whose day was past or who had lost his favour. 
 But even in the most unpropitious circumstances 
 his humour never deserted him. At one of his 
 country durbars certain tax-gatherers were dis- 
 puting with the local landowners as to the taxes 
 to be paid. As they all insisted on speaking at 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 65 
 
 once, he placed a soldier behind each of them with 
 orders to box the ears of any; man who spoke out 
 of his turn. 
 
 On one occasion he put a man to death unjustly, 
 i.e. J, on false evidence. Thereupon he fined him- 
 self 6000 rupees, and paid this sum to the widow, 
 who for her part was delighted at being simul- 
 taneously relieved of her husband and started again 
 in life. 
 
 On another occasion his humour took a more 
 gruesome turn. It was pointed out to him by 
 one of his courtiers that he had ordered an inno- 
 cent man to be hung. "Innocent!" cried the 
 Amir. "Well, if he is not guilty this time, he* 
 has done something else at another. Away with 
 him." 
 
 ' In this strange and almost incredible amalgam 
 of the jester and the cynic, the statesman and the 
 savage, I think that a passion for cruelty was one 
 of his most inveterate instincts. The Amir often 
 exerted himself to deny the charge or claimed that 
 it was the only method of dealing with a race so 
 treacherous and criminally inclined. For instance, 
 as I rode to Kabul, I passed on the top of the 
 Lataband Pass an iron cage swinging from a tall 
 pole in which rattled the bleaching bones of a 
 robber whom he had caught and shut up alive in 
 this construction, as a warning to other disturbers 
 of the peace of the King's highway. He revelled 
 in these grim demonstrations of executive author- 
 ity. Nevertheless, the recorded stories — as to the 
 truth of which I satisfied myself — were sufficient 
 
66 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 to show that a love of violence and an ingrained 
 ferocity were deeply rooted in his nature. He 
 confided to an Englishman at Kabul that he had 
 put to death 120,000 of his own people. After one 
 unsuccessful rebellion he had many thousands of 
 the guilty tribesmen blinded with quicklime, and 
 spoke to me of the punishment without a trace of 
 compunction. Crimes such as robbery or rape 
 were punished with fiendish severity. Men were 
 blown from guns, or thrown down a dark well, 
 or beaten to death, or flayed alive, or tortured in 
 the offending member. For instance, one of the 
 favourite penalties for petty larceny was to ampu- 
 tate the hand at the wrist, the raw stump being 
 then plunged in boiling oil. One official who had 
 outraged a woman was stripped naked and placed 
 in a hole dug for the purpose on the top of a 
 high hill outside Kabul. It was in mid-winter; 
 and water was then poured upon him until he 
 was converted into an icicle and frozen alive. As 
 the Amir sardonically remarked, " He would never 
 be too hot again." 
 
 A woman of his harem being found in the fam- 
 ily way, he had her tied up in a sack and brought 
 into the Durbar hall, where he ran her through 
 with his own sword. Two men having been heard 
 to talk about some forbidden subject, he ordered 
 their upper and lower lips to be stitched together 
 so that they should never offend again. A man 
 came into the Durbar one day and openly accused 
 the Amir of depravity and crime. " Tear out his 
 tongue," said the Amir. In a moment he was 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 67 
 
 seized and his tongue torn out by the roots. The 
 poor wretch died. One day an old beggar threw 
 himself in the way of the Amir as he was riding 
 through the streets. The following dialogue then 
 ensued: " What are you? " " A beggar." " But 
 how do you get your hving?" "By alms." 
 " What? Do you mean to say that you do no 
 work?" "None." "And you have never done 
 any? " " Never." " Then it is time that we were 
 reheved of your presence." And the Amir nodded 
 to the executioner. 
 
 His cruelty even extended to punishing acts, 
 however innocent, which had not been authorised 
 by himself or which seemed to trench upon his 
 prerogative. Though I was his guest and he sin- 
 cerely desired to do me honour, and did so, he 
 could not tolerate that any of his subjects should 
 show spontaneous courtesy to the stranger. A 
 man who spoke to me while I was on the road 
 to Kabul was seized and thrown into prison. A 
 man who offered me a pomegranate as I rode into 
 Kandahar was severely beaten and imprisoned and 
 deprived of his property. 
 
 Nevertheless, this monarch, at once a patriot 
 and a monster, a great man and almost a fiend, 
 laboured hard and unceasingly for the good of 
 his country. He sought to raise his people from 
 the squalor and apathy and blood-shedding of their 
 normal lives and to convert them into a nation. 
 He welded the Afghan tribes into a unity which 
 they had never previously enjoyed, and he paved 
 the way for the complete independence which his 
 
68 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 successors have achieved. He and he alone was 
 the Government of Afghanistan. There was noth- 
 ing from the command of an army or the govern- 
 ment of a province to the cut of a uniform or 
 the fabrication of furniture that he did not per- 
 sonally superintend and control. He was the brain 
 and eyes and ears of all Afghanistan. But it is 
 questionable whether in the latter part of his life 
 he was more detested or admired. He ceased to 
 move abroad from fear of assassination, and six 
 horses, saddled and laden with coin, were always 
 kept ready for a sudden escape. 
 
 I should describe him, on the whole, in spite 
 of his uncertain temper and insolent language, as 
 a consistent friend of the British alliance. Though 
 he often had differences with the Government of 
 India, whom he loved to snub and annoy, though 
 there were moments when the relations between 
 them were very strained, though, when I became 
 Viceroy, he did not spare me these conventional 
 amenities and we were sometimes on the verge 
 of a serious quarrel, I did not and do not doubt 
 that on the broad issues of imperial policy his 
 fidelity was assured. But he acted in this respect, 
 as in all others, from expediency alone. He knew 
 that the British neither coveted nor desired to 
 annex his country. As an independent sovereign 
 he was compelled, for the sake of appearances with 
 his own people, to exhibit a truculence that was 
 often offensive and at times insupportable. But 
 at a crisis it was to British advice and British arms 
 that he invariably turned. His name will always 
 

 
 J^'^ 
 
 ..♦^--4. 
 
 _J^^^^ 
 
 
 
 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 69 
 
 deserve to rank high in the annals of his own coun- 
 try as well as in the history of the Indian Empire. 
 
 Among the devices that he adopted in order to 
 stimulate the patriotism and ensure the due sub- 
 ordination of his people and incidentally to render 
 them more amenable to military conscription, was 
 the issue of a map, accompanied by a proclama- 
 tion which was read out in the bazaars and mosques 
 of all the principal towns and posted in every 
 village. As this map, however viewed, is quite 
 unlike any other map that I have ever seen, I give 
 a small-scale reproduction of it here. My original 
 copy, printed on canvas, measures 5 feet by 4I/2 
 feet. 
 
 The proclamation was even more remarkable 
 than the map, which indeed stands in some need 
 of explanation. It was in the nature of a lecture, 
 invested with all the authority of a royal firman, 
 or decree. I will quote a few passages from it. 
 
 I have now prepared for you a kind of map, which 
 shows the condition of Afghanistan as compared with 
 that of its surrounding countries. This I have done in 
 order to enable you to study the matter attentively and 
 to make out a path for yourselves in such a way that 
 good may accrue both to your country and to your 
 religion. I am hopeful that a careful study of this map 
 will suffice for your prosperity and happiness both in this 
 world and the next. 
 
 In entering into the details of this map, I hereby 
 declare that whatever has been predestined by the 
 Almighty for each one of you, the same has been put 
 into the heart of your King, and he is thus enabled to 
 
70 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 find suitable appointments for all. Some of you have 
 attained to the rank of a Commander-in-Chief, while 
 others are stiU in the position of a sepoy. It is, however, 
 fitting for you all to offer thanks to God and to your 
 King, and to be contented with your lot. You should 
 not be envious of those who hold higher rank than your- 
 selves, but you should rather look to those who are 
 inferior. By doing so you will gain three benefits — first, 
 the favour and blessing of God, for it is written that " if 
 you express your gratitude for the blessings poured forth 
 upon you, the same shall be increased '^ ; secondly, the 
 approbation and good will of your ruler; and thirdly, 
 you will thus be enabled to hold your present position in 
 the sure hope of obtaining advancement. For God has 
 said, that if you offer thanks for His blessings He will 
 increase them. The increase of blessings signifies the 
 exaltation of rank. All blessings in this world depend 
 upon the exaltation of position, and when a man's rank 
 is increased he can then only be said to have obtained 
 the blessings of this world. But if you are not contented 
 with your present state and neglect to offer your thanks 
 to God, and do not look to those who are inferior to 
 you in position, but rather envy those who are above 
 you, and ask in your hearts why such and such persons 
 are superior to yourselves, you lay the foundation of 
 envy and hatred, and cause many calamities to fall upon 
 you. 
 
 Therefore, take care and listen to me, who am your 
 King, with all your heart, and weigh well what I say, 
 for it is of no use to make lamentations for that which 
 has past and gone. This advice is for all, from the 
 Commander-in-Chief down to the sepoy, and also for the 
 subjects, who are inferior to all, and for those who carry 
 guns on their shoulders. A sepoy should look upon the 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 71 
 
 subjects, who are inferior to him, as members of his own 
 society, for it is with the help of God and by the kindness 
 of the King that he has obtained his rank. You should 
 sympathise with the subjects, who are your own tribes- 
 men and who are continually employed in cultivating 
 their lands, in cutting their crops, in thrashing their 
 corn, in gathering in the harvests and in winnowing the 
 wheat from the chaff. They are also occupied in trade 
 and undergo hardships and troubles by night and by 
 day, and only enjoy a portion of the produce themselves 
 after they have paid in the taxes which are necessary for 
 the expenses of the State. I, who am your King, spend 
 all this money on the army. It therefore behoves you 
 all, whether you are men in high places or sepoys or 
 subjects, to be grateful, because all that you pay is given 
 back to your brothers, sons and tribesmen. By this God 
 is ^pleased, religion flourishes and honour is preserved. 
 In a like manner, the subjects should also be grateful, so 
 that God's blessings may increase day by day, for it is 
 written, that on him who is grateful He increases his 
 bounties. It is therefore incumbent on you to be grateful 
 both to God and to your King. 
 
 The real object of my teaching is that the kindness 
 and compassion of the King towards his subjects re- 
 semble the feelings of a father towards his son; and as 
 it is natural that a father should be kind to his son, so 
 it is also natural that the King should be kind to his 
 subjects. These are also the orders of God to the King. 
 But when the father sees the errors of his son, he ad- 
 monishes and punishes him. Now this punishment is not 
 due to ill-feeling, but rather to the excessive love which 
 the father bears towards his son, so that he cannot even 
 bear the sight of any wrong-doings on the part of his son ; 
 in the same way the King has the same feelings towards 
 
72 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 his subjects as a father has towards his son. The King 
 only wishes to spread the blessings of tranquillity and 
 peace among his subjects and to gain a good name 
 thereby. When a boy is young and ignorant, he hates 
 and despises the advice of his father, but when he 
 becomes of age and becomes endued with wisdom and 
 intellect, he considers that there is none so kind and 
 affectionate as his father, and it is the whole purport and 
 desire of his life to obey the orders of his father. In the 
 same way, I, the ruler of you Afghans, have the same 
 desire of being kind and generous to you, even as a father 
 is kind and generous to his son. If you are wise enough 
 to understand and benefit by my advice, I am confident 
 that you will see that your religion will flourish and 
 that your country will be prosperous. May it so please 
 God. 
 
 Considering the manner, as already described, 
 in which Abdur Rahman Khan was in the habit 
 of demonstrating his paternal love for his subjects, 
 the latter, if they had one-thousandth part of the 
 sense of humour of their sovereign, must have 
 smiled somewhat grimly as they listened to this 
 sermon. 
 
 One of the subjects that interested the Amir 
 most was his claim, on behalf of himself and of 
 his people, to a descent from the Lost Tribes of 
 Israel. I had heard of this theory; and I had 
 noted the distinct resemblance of many Afghan 
 features to the Semitic type. But when I inter- 
 rogated him about it, he unhesitatingly proclaimed 
 his acceptance of the legend. He declared that 
 the Afghans took their name from Afghana, who 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 73 
 
 was Commander-in-Chief to King Solomon; some 
 were descended from him, and others from Jere- 
 miah the son of Saul.^ On another occasion the 
 Amir's eldest son Habibulla, whose ethnology was 
 a little hazy, told me that the Afghans were Jews 
 who had been conquered by Babu-Nassar (e.^.^ 
 Nebuchadnezzar) in the time of Yezdigird, and 
 deported to Persia, where they lived a long time. 
 Later on they migrated to Afghanistan, where 
 they settled in the region of the Suleiman (Solo- 
 mon) Moimtains, to which, in reference to their 
 origin, they gave that name. As a matter of fact, 
 the Hebrew descent of the Afghans has been the 
 subject of prolonged dispute, great authorities 
 having argued on either side. The champions of 
 the theory point to the marked Jewish features 
 of so many Afghans, to the great number of Jew- 
 ish Christian names {e.g., Ibrahim = Abraham, 
 Ayub = Job, Ismail — Ishmael, Ishak = Isaac, 
 Yahia =■ John, Yakub = Jacob, Yusuf = Joseph, 
 Isa = Jesus, Daoud = David, Suleiman = Solo- 
 mon, and many others), to the fact that the Feast 
 of the Passover is still observed by the Pathan 
 border tribe of the Yusuf zai; and to the occur- 
 rence of the name Kabul in the Old Testament 
 {e.g. J 1 Kings ix. 13), where Solomon, having 
 given King Hiram twenty cities of Galilee in re- 
 turn for the timber and gold presented to him for 
 the Temple, Hiram went out to see them and 
 
 1 This is the conventional account given in the best-known Pushtu 
 history, called Tazkirat ul-Muluk, which was composed in the time of 
 the early Duranis, who probably invented the legend. 
 
74 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 was very much disgusted, " calling them the land 
 of Kabul {i,e,j dirty or disgusting) unto this day." 
 I believe that this reasoning is quite fallacious, 
 the biblical names employed by the Afghans be- 
 ing all in their Arabic form, i.e,, post-Mohammedan 
 in origin; and the Hebrew word Kabiil in the Old 
 Testament having no connection, except in spell- 
 ing, with the Afghan Kabul. The theory of a 
 Semitic origin is now generally discredited, but 
 there is nothing inherently improbable in the be- 
 lief that some of the Afghan tribes may have en- 
 tered the country from Persia (of which language 
 they speak a patois) and may have come at an 
 earlier date into Persia from Syria or Assyria 
 (the land of the captivity). There I will leave 
 the matter, to which I have only alluded here in 
 order to record the opinions of the Amir. 
 
 And now, having given a general picture of the 
 man, his personality and his acts, let me pass on 
 to narrate a few of the more interesting conversa- 
 tions, other than on political subjects, with which 
 he overflowed. He spoke in Persian through an 
 interpreter; and while at times he would indulge 
 in short and staccato phrases, at others he would 
 pour forth a torrent of declamation that lasted for 
 six or seven minutes without a pause. 
 
 Never was the mixture of shrewdness, vanity, 
 and ignorance, which were so strangely blended in 
 Abdur Rahman's character, more patently shown 
 than in the conversation which he held with me 
 one day in open Durbar with regard to his con- 
 templated visit to England. He had already re- 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 75 
 
 ceived an official invitation from Her Majesty's 
 Government, tendered through the Viceroy (Lord 
 Elgin) to pay such a visit, and to this invitation, 
 with calculated rudeness, he had declined for 
 months to return a reply. I had good reason for 
 thinking that he was postponing his answer until 
 I arrived at Kabul, and he could hear from me 
 personally what sort of reception he would be 
 likely to meet with in London. From the start, 
 accordingly, this formed a constant topic of our 
 conversation; and I very soon realised that, while 
 appearing to hang back, the Amir was in reality 
 intensely anxious to come, provided, on the one 
 hand, that he could be assured of a welcome in 
 England compatible with his own exalted concep- 
 tion of the dignity and prestige of the Afghan 
 Sovereign, and, on the other, that he could safely 
 be absent from his country for several months of 
 time. He would discuss these subjects with me 
 interminably in all their bearings, being in reality 
 much more concerned about the former than the 
 latter. At length, towards the end of my visit, 
 his mind was made up; the decision to pay the 
 visit was definitely taken; the acceptance was 
 written, in the form of a personal letter to Queen 
 Victoria, which the Amir handed to me in open 
 Durbar, wrapped up in a violet silk covering, em- 
 broidered with a Persian inscription. This parcel 
 I took back to England and ultimately transmitted 
 to Her Majesty: and unquestionably the visit 
 would have taken place had not the Amir learned 
 a little later on that, had he left his country, the 
 
76 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 chances were that, in consequence of the reign of 
 terror that prevailed under his iron hand, he would 
 never be allowed to return, and that in his absence 
 some less fierce and dreaded occupant would be 
 installed upon the Afghan throne. 
 
 It was in the ^course of one of these public con- 
 versations that the following dialogue occurred — 
 to understand which it should be premised that 
 the one Englishman against whom the Amir cher- 
 ished an overweening, though entirely unfounded, 
 prejudice was Lord Roberts (then Commander- 
 in-Chief in England), whom he was never tired 
 of accusing of having condemned and hung, by- 
 bought and perjured evidence, many thousands of 
 innocent Afghans upon the arrival of the British 
 army in Kabul after the murder of Sir L. Cavag- 
 nari in 1879.^ This monarch, who had not hesi- 
 tated himself, as he boasted to me, to put out the 
 eyes of thousands of his own subjects (after the 
 Hazara rebellion) , and who was utterly indifferent 
 to human life, had no words of reprobation too 
 strong for the British commander, who had dared 
 to punish a gross act of international treachery 
 by the execution of the guilty parties ; and he would 
 constantly repeat that Roberts had killed thou- 
 sands of innocent Afghan people and could never 
 be forgiven. Hence the ensuing story: 
 
 1 These charges against the findings of the Military Court at 
 Kabul, and the consequent executions, having been taken up and 
 repeated by the Opposition in London, the answer of Lord Roberts 
 was read in both Houses of Parliament. His full reply, with an 
 abstract statement of the executions, was published as a Parlia- 
 mentary Paper in February, 1880. 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 77 
 
 A, " When I come to England and to London 
 and am received by the Queen, shall I tell you 
 what I will do?" 
 
 C. "Yes, Your Highness, I shall be glad to 
 hear." 
 
 -4. " I understand that there is in London a 
 great hall that is known as Westminster Hall. 
 Is not that so?" 
 
 a " It is.'* 
 
 A. " There are also in London two Mejilises 
 {Le,, Houses of Parliament). One is called the 
 House of Lords and the other is called the House 
 of Commons ? " 
 
 C. " It is so." 
 
 A. "When I come to London, I shall be re- 
 ceived in Westminster Hall. The Queen will be 
 seated on her throne at the end of the hall, and 
 the Royal Family will be around her; and on either 
 side of the hall will be placed the two Mejilises — 
 the House of Lords on the right, and the House 
 of Commons on the left. Is not that the 
 case?" 
 
 C. " It is not our usual plan; hut will Your 
 Highness proceed?" 
 
 A, "I shall enter the hall, and the Lords will 
 rise on the right, and the Commons will rise on 
 the left to greet me, and I shall advance between 
 them up the hall to the dais, where will be seated 
 the Queen upon her throne. And she will rise 
 and will say to me, ' What has Your Majesty come 
 from Kabul to say?' And how then shall I 
 reply?" 
 
78 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 C " I am sure I do not know." 
 
 A. "I shall reply: 'I will say nothing' — and 
 the Queen will then ask me why I refuse to say 
 anything; and I shall answer: ' Send for Roberts. 
 I decline to speak until Roberts comes.' And then 
 they will send for Roberts, and there will be a 
 pause until Roberts comes, and when Roberts has 
 come and is standing before the Queen and the 
 two Mejilises, then will I speak." 
 
 C. "And what will Your Highness say?" 
 
 ^. " I shall tell them how Roberts paid thou- 
 sands of rupees to obtain false witness at Kabul 
 and that he slew thousands of my innocent people, 
 and I shall ask that Roberts be punished, and when 
 Roberts has been punished, then will I speak." 
 
 It was in vain that I indicated to the Amir that 
 things in England and in London were not done 
 exactly in that way, and that the ceremonial of 
 his reception would hardly be of the nature de- 
 scribed. Nothing could convince him. This was 
 no doubt exactly the manner in which he would 
 have managed the business in Kabul; and London 
 meant no more to him than a larger stage and a 
 change of scene. 
 
 When I reflected what might have happened 
 had the visit been paid and had the Amir been 
 confronted with the more sober realities of British 
 official procedure, I felt almost glad that Her 
 Majesty's Government were spared the spectacle 
 of the Amir's disappointment and its consequences, 
 which might have been serious; although the per- 
 sonal encounter between the two protagonists, hacj 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 79 
 
 it ever taken place, could hardly have failed to be 
 diverting. 
 
 The only person in England who, when I re- 
 counted the story, failed to find it at all amusing 
 — and this perhaps quite pardonably — was Lord 
 Roberts himself. 
 
 Knowing that I was a member of Parliament 
 the Amir never spoke to me contemptuously, 
 though often with a touch of sarcasm, about the 
 House of Commons. But to others he was less 
 reticent. On one occasion he told an Englishman 
 in his service that he ought to go to the public 
 hammam (Turkish Bath) in Kabul in order to see 
 what in the Amir's opinion the British Parliament 
 must be like. The Englishman duly went, and 
 soon discovered what the Amir had in mind, for 
 the place was full of men, and the high dome over- 
 head reverberated with their calls for towels, soap, 
 etc., and their usual loud-voiced conversations, un- 
 til the meaning of any individual words and the 
 words themselves were lost in the confusion of 
 sounds and only added to the general uproar. 
 
 Among other curious illustrations of the Amir's 
 colossal, but childish, vanity I recall the following. 
 He cherished the illusion, which was warmly en- 
 couraged by all the courtiers who were in the 
 Durbar hall, that he had a monopoly of all the 
 talents and was the universal genius of Afghanis- 
 tan, particularly in all matters of mechanics and 
 the arts. 
 
 One day, as I was going to the Durbar, I passed 
 through an ante-chamber in which was standing 
 
80 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 a superb grand piano, evidently a fresh importa- 
 tion from Europe, the case of which was exquisitely- 
 painted with pictorial subjects or scenes. I was 
 told — though this was probably untrue — that the 
 artist or designer had been no less a person than 
 Sir E. Burne- Jones. 
 
 A. " Did you notice the grand piano standing 
 in the adjoining chamber as you came in? " 
 
 C. " Yes, I did." 
 
 A. " What did you think of the painting of the 
 case?" 
 
 C. " I thought it magnificent." 
 
 A, " I painted it myself! " 
 
 The other case was this. One day I was a little 
 late in attending the Durbar, my watch having 
 stopped in the morning. 
 
 A. " Why are you late to-day? " 
 
 C " I am sorry to ^say that my watch stopped 
 this morning." 
 
 A. " And yours is an English watch. Send it 
 to me, and I will put it right without difficulty. 
 I am a professional watch-maker myself and keep 
 right the watches of all the people of Kabul! " 
 
 I hastily explained that my watch had resumed 
 its full and orderly functions, and accordingly was 
 able to save it from the hands of the illustrious 
 amateur. 
 
 I may here anticipate somewhat by giving an- 
 other example of this amusing trait. After I had 
 returned to England I married in the summer of 
 1895, and sent a photograph of my wife to the 
 Amir, who responded with a handsome present. 
 
1 
 
»tiR£?<S«GSS^^^^^ffSJ(g«C£?*iiia^^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 SIGNED LETTEK FROM AMIR ABDXTR RAHMAN KHAN. 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 81 
 
 But, as the following letter will show, he could not 
 resist, as an expert in phrenology, from assuring 
 me that I had made an excellent choice. I append 
 the translation, which he enclosed with the original 
 letter in Persian. The latter is reproduced on the 
 adjoining page. 
 
 To my wise am^d Tcvrid friend, the Hon^ble, G, CurzoTij M.P, 
 
 After compliments and Persian titles and my sincere 
 desire of seeing you again, also my great friendly expres- 
 sions towards you, my very wise friend — I wish to inform 
 you that I am greatly pleased and interested on reading 
 the contents of your letters, dated March 15 and June 9. 
 I beg to acknowledge the same and my reply is as follows : 
 I was very much delighted to hear of your marriage, also 
 delighted to receive Lady Curzon's photo. Thank God 
 she is according to your own choice. I pray God will 
 keep you (my own wise friend) successful in all the 
 desires of this life. 
 
 I also congratulate you, my honest friend, that though 
 you have only married one wife she is competent. 
 
 From my knowledge of phrenology she is very wise 
 and a well-wisher of yours and better than 1000 men. 
 
 I hope it may be God's wish, my dear friend, that you 
 will be happy and satisfied with her always. Thanks 
 to the Almighty you have been fortunate enough to meet 
 with such a wife, that in the whole of England there are 
 but a few. Faithfulness, wisdom and honesty, all these 
 I gather from her photo and according to phrenology. 
 May God bless you with a goodly offspring. 
 
 And then in a final sentence leaped forth the irre- 
 sistible humour of the man: 
 
82 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 If she should at any time thrash you I am certain 
 you will have done something to deserve it. — I am your 
 sincere friend and well-wisher 
 
 Abdur Rahman, Amir of Afghanistan. 
 
 As a balance to this type of correspondence I 
 append a single example of a more political letter, 
 written to me while I was still a private person; 
 but revealing many of the best-known features of 
 the Amir's epistolary style. In the first part of 
 the letter is a reference to a press report of some- 
 thing that I was alleged to have said in England 
 about Afghanistan. The second part relates to the 
 constant disputes between the Indian and Afghan 
 Governments, arising out of the frontier warfare 
 known as the Tirah Campaign, which occupied the 
 greater part of 1897. 
 
 May my dear, discerning friend. His most honoured 
 Excellency, the Honourable George Curzon, Esquire, 
 Minister of Parliament, M.P. of the House of Com- 
 mons, continue in the keeping of (God) the True Pro- 
 tector. 
 
 The letter of that kind friend written on December 30 
 A.D. 1897, corresponding to Shaban 5, a.h. 1315, reached 
 the presence of your friend at the best of seasons. From 
 the circumstances of your corporeal well-being joy was 
 produced, and I rejoiced at the soundness of that dear 
 friend's health. 
 
 As for what that kind friend wrote concerning the 
 adverse words which have been reported to me as having 
 been uttered by that friend, I have never had cause to 
 complain of that kind friend's friendship, nor of his 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 83 
 
 utterances concerning the State of Afghanistan; neither 
 do I suppose any such thing. I regard you as the first 
 of my friends, the only friend I have in the world. On 
 this subject I have much to say, for there are many 
 reasons for speech. When that kind friend was in Kabul, 
 and we and you sat together in one place, and discussed 
 our inmost thoughts about Russia and Afghanistan, and 
 the disorder of Afghanistan, concerning the antagonism 
 of the Russian Government, the defects of Afghanistan 
 had still in no wise been remedied when the misconduct 
 of a frontier contiguous to the frontier officers of the 
 Most Glorious State of England brought about disturb- 
 ance and confusion, until at length the frontier officers 
 of that State first cast suspicion upon me for their foolish 
 deeds and words; for they issued proclamations for a 
 general massacre of the people of the hill-passes, and fear 
 overtook them all, and they slew the Agents of the Most 
 Glorious State and burned and ravaged; and several 
 thousand men and part of the Army of the Most Glorious 
 State died, neither did they gain anything save hostility. 
 Alas ! alas ! for this nearness and proximity of Russia, 
 and the hostility of the Afghan frontier tribes. I do not 
 know what the end of it will be, for although I have no 
 concern with the people of Tira and the Afridis and the 
 peoples of Bajawar and Swat, it is now eleven months 
 since all caravans from my dominions have been stopped, 
 and the implements which were necessary for my engine- 
 workshop have been detained. In proof of this I send 
 enclosed in this packet, for your information and perusal, 
 an Order written by the Commissioner of Peshawar for 
 the caravan conductor (Kafila-bashi) of your friend 
 (myself) located at Peshawur, about the detention of the 
 oil-boxes, and I do not know what may be the reason 
 of his (the Commissioner's) conduct. They have caused 
 
84 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 my thoughts to incline to doubt India, so that enemy 
 and friend are passed out of my memory {i.e., I confuse 
 friends and enemies). If you will again peruse the 
 political news of India which has gone to London wherein 
 they have said many things about (i.e., have cast many 
 reflections on) my friendship, and have made (many) 
 aspersions (you will see that) I have patiently stomached 
 much, and by these forbearances it will be known to that 
 kind friend that my friendship towards the Most Glorious 
 State is very firm, for had this not been so, I too would 
 have said something foolish; but what shall I do, or 
 what shall I say? This much I will say that I remain 
 the friend of the Most Glorious State and that loyalty 
 thereunto abides in my heart, but the Agents of the 
 Most Glorious State in India are endeavouring to bring 
 about its overthrow. Please God it will not be over- 
 thrown on my part, though should the initiative (in 
 hostility or provocation) be taken by the Indian Govern- 
 ment, I do not know (what might happen) : but, please 
 God, (the initiative) will not be on my side, for my friend- 
 ship towards the Most Glorious State is firmly established 
 as a mountain. I hope from God that it may be the 
 same on the other side, so that we may not become such 
 as our enemies would desire. 
 
 Further you wrote "at this time (of writing) is the 
 transition of the year and the renewal of the Christian 
 date into 1898; therefore I send my prayers for your 
 welfare." So also your friend (i.e., myself) with fullest 
 affection, sends greetings and congratulations, (praying) 
 that, please God, you may pass the New Year in con- 
 tentment and health, and may ever remember the cir- 
 cumstances of your safe preservation. For the rest, good 
 wishes. May the days of your glory and gladness be 
 continued ! 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 85 
 
 Written on Monday the 15th of the month of Ramazan 
 the Blessed, a.h. 1315, corresponding to the 7th of Feb- 
 ruary, A.D. 1898. 
 
 (Signed) Amie Abdur Rahman Ziya'u^l-Millati wa'd 
 Din, G.C.S.I. and G.C.B. 
 
 To return to the conversations of the Amir. 
 Perhaps the most salient feature both of his bear- 
 ing and talk was his gift of polished, but mordant 
 sarcasm, sometimes, where his own subjects were 
 concerned, taking the form of sardonic and fearful 
 cruelty. I will relate four illustrations of this 
 terrifying himiour which happened during or about 
 the time when I was at Kabul. Of one of these 
 I was a witness. It arose during a conversation 
 about the reputation for cruelty which the Amir 
 had been told that he acquired in England. 
 
 A. " What do they say about my system of gov- 
 ernment in England? Please tell me the exact 
 truth." 
 
 C, " They say that Your Highness is a very 
 powerful but a very severe ruler, and that you 
 have repressed with great harshness all hostile 
 movements among your tiu^bulent and rebelhous 
 subjects." 
 
 A, " But they say more than that. They say 
 that I am a cruel and bloody barbarian, and that 
 I do not know how to govern my people or to give 
 peace and order to my country." 
 
 C " They may criticise Your Highness's meth- 
 ods. I do not presume to offer an opinion as to 
 the results." 
 
86 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 A. (a little while later). " Is there a paper in 
 England called the Standard? " 
 
 C. "Yes." 
 
 A, " Is it a good paper? Does it speak the 
 truth?" 
 
 C. "Broadly speaking, I believe that it 
 does." 
 
 A. "Is there a city in your country called 
 Birmingham? Is it a large city? How many 
 inhabitants has it? And is it well governed? " 
 
 C. " Yes, it is a very large city and it has over 
 three-quarters of a million of people, and I believe 
 that it prides itself on its municipal administra- 
 tion." 
 
 A, "Is there also another city called Manches- 
 ter and is it like Birmingham? " 
 
 C, "It is also a very large city with a very 
 great population and is reported to be well gov- 
 erned." 
 
 A, (producing a small piece of newspaper from 
 a fold in his robe) . " Here is an extract from the 
 Standard, which you say is a good paper and a 
 truthful paper, and which says that in Manchester, 
 which is a great and well governed city, last year 
 
 there were murders and in Birmingham 
 
 murders; and that many of the murderers were 
 not captured and executed. Is that true?" 
 
 C. " If the Standard is quoting official statistics, 
 I have no doubt that it is true." 
 
 A. (turning to his courtiers standing in a crowd 
 at the other end of the room) . " What is the pop- 
 ulation of my country? " 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 87 
 
 Courtiers, " Your Majesty rules over eight mil- 
 lions of people." ^ 
 
 A, " Ah, and how many murders were com- 
 mitted in the whole of Afghanistan last year? " 
 
 Courtiers, " Under Your Majesty's just and be- 
 nevolent rule, where law and order are perfectly 
 maintained, only six murders were committed in 
 the entire country, and the guilty were caught and 
 condemned to immediate execution." 
 
 A. (turning to me) . "And this is the country 
 and these are the people whom I am accused in 
 England of not knowing how to rule, and am 
 taunted with being barbarous and bloody and cruel. 
 Birmingham only has one-tenth of my population 
 and Manchester only one-fifteenth, and they are 
 
 well-governed cities, and yet murders are 
 
 committed there in the course of a year, and, as 
 the Standard, which is a truthful paper, goes on 
 to say, in a great many cases the murderers were 
 neither caught nor executed." 
 
 I own that I found it a little difficult to pursue, 
 with dialectical advantage, this strain of conver- 
 sation. On the other hand, the paucity of crimes 
 of violence in Afghanistan, if it was true (as may 
 well have been the case), was undoubtedly due, 
 neither to respect for law nor to excellence of 
 administration, but to the reign of terror that pre- 
 vailed and to the horrible tortures inflicted upon 
 persons suspected of murder. 
 
 One day there came running into a Durbar 
 being held by the Amir, streaming with sweat, and 
 
 1 1 believe the real mimber was nearer 5,000,000. 
 
88 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 in the last stage of exhaustion, a Herati Afghan, 
 who claimed to have run all the way from Herat 
 without stopping, in order to tell the Amir that 
 the Russians had crossed the frontier and were 
 advancing into Afghanistan, and he appealed for 
 a reward from his grateful Sovereign. 
 
 A. (who did not believe the story for one mo- 
 ment) . " Did you see the Russians with your own 
 eyes? And how many were they, and how many 
 guns had they with them, and by what road are 
 they marching?" 
 
 H. " Your Majesty, I saw them with my own 
 eyes, and there were 20,000 men, and they had 
 many guns with them, and they are advancing 
 rapidly upon the Herat — Kabul road; and they 
 will soon be here, and I ran ahead of them with- 
 out stopping, for days, in order that I might warn 
 Your Majesty of the danger which is so near." 
 
 A. (to his courtiers). " This faithful man had 
 the good fortune to be the first to see the Russian 
 army cross the frontier near to Herat, and he has 
 run all the way here in order to warn us of the 
 danger. How can we sufficiently reward him? I 
 will tell you. He also shall have the good fortune 
 to be the first to see the Russians arrive, and we 
 will put him in a place where he will have a better 
 chance than any other man. Take him to the high- 
 est tree in this place, and tie him to the highest 
 bough of the tree, and let him remain there until 
 the Russians come — and then he shall descend from 
 the tree and bring us the news, and he shall obtain 
 his reward." 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 89 
 
 And so the faithful Afghan was taken and tied 
 up in the tree; and there he remained strung up 
 aloft until he perished, as a warning to all other 
 faithful Afghans whose fidelity was pursued at an 
 unwarrantable sacrifice of the truth. 
 
 My next story is more genial in its develop- 
 ment, though no less sinister in its consequence. 
 
 One day there was being counted out in the 
 Durbar hall before the Amir a great pile of gold 
 (Bokharan tillas^ bangles, and other coins), prior 
 to being sent to the mint to be coined. The Afghan 
 ministers were seated on the ground counting the 
 tillas, and the Amir was looking on. 
 
 As the counting proceeded, a harem girl, who 
 was dressed in man's clothes in order to act as a 
 spy, and who was standing in the background, ob- 
 served that one of the principal Afghan ministers 
 (whom we will call Suleiman Khan) was abstract- 
 ing some of the gold tillas, and had already secreted 
 eighteen in his worsted sock while pretending to 
 scratch his leg. She accordingly wrote a note 
 which she passed to one of the court attendants, 
 who whispered in the ear of the Amir. 
 
 The Amir took no notice, and the counting con- 
 tinued, until all the gold had been counted or 
 weighed. Then, following a familiar practice, he 
 apparently forgot all about the tribute, and com- 
 menced a line of discursive reflection on an entirely 
 different topic. 
 
 A. " A great many people say that the Afghans 
 are not a white-skinned people, and they say, for 
 instance, that their skins are not so white as those 
 
90 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 of the Russians or the English. Tell me, is this 
 true?" 
 
 Courtiers (unanimously). "Your Majesty, 
 there could not be a greater lie. No people have 
 whiter skins than the Afghans, and we are con- 
 vinced that no Afghan has so white a skin as Your 
 Majesty." 
 
 A, (much gratified) . " That is true, and to 
 prove to you that it is the truth, I will show you 
 my own leg! " 
 
 (Thereupon the Amir — ^who at one of my audi- 
 ences did exactly the same thing to demonstrate 
 to me the same proposition, though in a more 
 agreeable context^ — proceeded to pull his white 
 cotton pantaloons up the calf of his leg, and to 
 expose the colour of his skin, which (I am bound 
 to say) was extraordinarily white, considering that 
 his complexion was somewhat sallow, and that he 
 had a thick growth of black or, at least, dyed 
 hair. 
 
 A, (to his courtiers). "There, as you see, is 
 the calf of my leg, and you can note how white is 
 the skin." 
 
 Courtiers, "Your Majesty, we never saw so 
 white a leg, and the legs of all Russians and Eng- 
 lishmen are brown in comparison." 
 
 A, " That is true. But let me see if my people 
 and my courtiers are as white skinned as myself, 
 or if they are less so. (Then, turning to the 
 throng) Haji Mohammed, let us see your leg! 
 Ali Akbar, let us see yours! (The two legs, ex- 
 hibiting various degrees of yellowish pigmentation. 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 91 
 
 were then satisfactorily exposed. ) Suleiman Khan, 
 let us see your leg! " 
 
 S. K, '' Oh, Your Majesty, I beg you to excuse 
 me. I have been suffering for some time from 
 a severe ague in the lower part of my legs and I 
 dare not pull down my sock." 
 
 A. "It will never do for my servant not to 
 follow the example of his Sovereign, even if his 
 skin, as may be expected, is much less white. Pull 
 down your right sock, Suleiman Khan!" 
 
 S, K. " I implore Your Majesty to be merci- 
 ful. I am suffering the most acute agony from 
 my ague. I must return at once to my house and 
 have medical treatment. I entreat Your Majesty 
 to have pity upon your faithful servant." 
 
 A, " Pull down your sock, Suleiman Khan." 
 
 Thereupon the guilty sock had to be pulled 
 down, and the fatal gold Bokharan tillas rolled 
 one by one on to the floor. 
 
 The Amir, speechless with rage, threw himself 
 back on the divan and for some time did not utter 
 a sound. Then he shouted, " Take him away to 
 the prison, strip him of all his wealth, and let him 
 be no more seen." 
 
 (It was told to me at Kabul, though I cannot 
 vouch for it, that this and no less was the fate 
 of the unhappy Suleiman Khan.) 
 
 Another incident happened soon after I left 
 Kabul, the victim of which was an ofBcer whom 
 I had seen daily during my visits to the Palace. 
 This was a dapper little figure, the commandant 
 of the Amir's bodyguard, who was always in 
 
92 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 attendance, in a beautiful uniform, in the Durbar 
 hall. He had, when a boy, been one of the Amir's 
 favourite batchas^ or dancing-boys (an amusement 
 much favoured in Afghanistan) , and when his mas- 
 ter attained to power, he had been promoted stage 
 by stage until he had reached his present eminence. 
 
 This man was beheved, or found, to be guilty 
 of some act of disloyalty or treachery to his sov- 
 ereign, and the latter heard of it before the culprit 
 discovered that he had been detected. The scene 
 happened in full Durbar, when one day the Amir 
 told the story of the culprit's guilt, while he stood 
 before him in his brilliant uniform, and thus an- 
 nounced the punishment: 
 
 "A batcha you began and a batcha you shall 
 end. Go back to your house and take off your 
 UDQiform and put on your petticoats (the dancing- 
 boys in Afghanistan dance in petticoats), and 
 come back and dance here before the Durbar." 
 
 The wretched man, a general, and forty years 
 of age, had to do as he was bidden, and to come 
 and dance in the garb of a girl before the assembled 
 Court of Kabul. Can anything more refined in its 
 cruelty be imagined? 
 
 I could tell many more anecdotes, some of them 
 even more grim, of this remarkable man. One of 
 his strangest traits was his unbounded and uncon- 
 cealed contempt for his own people. Now and 
 then he would burst out in a torrent of denuncia- 
 tion in open Durbar. He would say, " The 
 Afghans are cowards and traitors. For years they 
 have been trying to kill me, but they cannot sue- 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 93 
 
 ceed. Either they have not the courage to shoot 
 or they cannot shoot straight." And then he would 
 turn to the assembled courtiers and shout out: " Is 
 this not true? Are you not a craven and a miser- 
 able people ? " And with one accord, with bowed 
 heads, they would reply: " Your Majesty, we are! " 
 
 One day he was enlarging upon this theme, and 
 he told me two anecdotes in illustration of it. He 
 said that when a few years before he had succeeded 
 in defeating the rebelhon of his cousin Ishak Klian, 
 largely owing to the fact that some of the rebel 
 regiments had deserted their leader on the battle- 
 field (he seemed quite pleased at this, as though it 
 showed that he himself had not won by the superior 
 value or courage of his own troops), he had held 
 a review at Mazar-i- Sharif in Northern Afghan- 
 istan. His loyal regiments marched past before 
 him, and they included the battaHons that had 
 deserted from the enemy. The Amir himself was 
 seated on a chair on a httle mound, and the troops 
 were defiling, four abreast, immediately below him. 
 As they approached, he noticed that one of his 
 cousin's soldiers held four cartridges between his 
 extended fingers, and, as he drew near, the man 
 suddenly put up his rifle and fired point blank 
 at the Amir from the distance of a few paces. 
 
 " And did he hit me? " the Amir shouted. " Not 
 a bit. Just at that moment I leaned aside to speak 
 to one of my generals and the bullet passed under 
 my armpit and went through the leg of a slave 
 who was standing behind mel Was not that 
 good? " And then he burst into a roar of laughter 
 
94 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 at this admirable joke, and at the gross ineptitude 
 of the Afghan soldier, who could not kill him even 
 at the distance of a few feet. 
 
 Another of his stories illustrating the alleged 
 timidity and cowardice of his people was as fol- 
 lows. He said that when he went to India to see 
 Lord Dufferin, he was accorded a great military 
 review at Rawal Pindi, and that after the review, 
 which was held in pouring rain, he dismounted 
 and entered the Durbar or reception tent prepared 
 for him. There was a big table standing in the 
 tent, and upon it was a miniature cannon. At sight 
 of this object his terrified staff called out to him 
 to hide, because the gun would infallibly go off 
 and kill him. 
 
 " What did I say to them? " (he added to me). 
 " I said * Cowards and fools ! You think that this 
 is a real cannon. It is only a machine to cut off 
 the end of a cigar.' " 
 
 Great as was his contempt for his people, he 
 did not mean to run any risks or to give them any 
 opportunity of getting rid of him before his time. 
 On one occasion he was suffering severely from 
 toothache and decided to have the offending tooth 
 taken out. The surgeon prepared chloroform, 
 whereupon the Amir asked how long he would 
 have to remain insensible. " About twenty min- 
 utes," said the doctor. " Twenty minutes ! " replied 
 the Amir. " I cannot afford to be out of the world 
 for twenty seconds. Take it out without chloro- 
 form!" 
 
 The Amir was very proud of his gift of ironical 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 95 
 
 retort, and he furnished me with two illustrations 
 of it, which evidently caused him the greatest 
 satisfaction. He told me that on one occasion a 
 Russian officer on the North-west frontier, some- 
 where near Maimena or Andkui, had written him 
 a letter to say that he proposed to exercise a force 
 of 500 men, both cavalry and infantry, near the 
 frontier, and he hoped that the Amir would not 
 be alarmed, or regard this as a hostile proceeding. 
 Certainly not, replied the Amir, he had no 
 objection at all, the more so as he proposed to 
 exercise a force of 5000 Afghan troops opposite 
 the same spot. No more was heard of the Rus- 
 sian proposal. 
 
 The second occasion occurred in the course of 
 one of our conversations. I had produced one 
 day an extract from an English newspaper which 
 spoke of a new British gun that could throw a 
 projectile for a distance of 15 miles. The Amir 
 showed neither curiosity nor surprise. But a little 
 later he turned to the commandant of his artil- 
 lery, who was in the Durbar room, and asked him 
 in a casual way what was the range of the new 
 gun which he, the Amir, had just made and sent 
 to Herat. " Fifty miles," replied the command- 
 ant, without turning a hair. 
 
 The Amir enjoyed very much talking about 
 personal and domestic details, and sometimes 
 would tell me stories about the private lives of his 
 courtiers, who had to stand by looking rather 
 sheepish while they heard the secrets of the harem 
 revealed to a stranger in their presence. One 
 
96 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 day I was suffering from toothache and had a 
 swollen iace. This gave him an excuse for a dis- 
 sertation on dentistry of which, as of every science, 
 he claimed to be a master. Four things, he said, 
 were bad for the teeth — ^meat, sweets, cold water, 
 and wine. He had suffered very much from bad 
 teeth himself, particularly when he was in Samar- 
 kand, and since the age of forty he had worn en- 
 tirely false teeth. These had been put in by a 
 dentist from Simla, and from time to time he 
 would take out the plate while speaking. In 
 Samarkand, however, he could put no trust in the 
 Russian physicians, because thirty-two of his own 
 followers fell ill and went to the Russian 'hospital, 
 where every one of them died. Accordingly he 
 studied medicine, including dentistry, himself, and 
 ever afterwards treated both himself and his fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 He was also much interested in the marriage 
 laws and customs of different countries. Monog- 
 amy, as practised in England and Europe, he 
 held to be a most pernicious system. Firstly, 
 there being, as a rule, more women than men in 
 European countries, monogamy meant that a large 
 number of them remained unmarried, which was 
 a cruel and unnatural fate. Secondly, if a man 
 was only allowed by law to take one wife the 
 country swarmed with " children of God," i.e.j 
 illegitimate offspring. In fact, the British colo- 
 nies, Australia, Canada, etc., were maintained as 
 places to which to send these progeny, for whom 
 there was no room at home. However, it was all 
 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 97 
 
 due to our damp climate. Reared in perpetual 
 water and mud, the English people were like rice, 
 while the Eastern peoples, living on a dry soil, 
 resembled wheat. 
 
 Englishmen accordingly were not strong and 
 could not possibly manage four wives, like the 
 Moslems. As to the late period of many Enghsh 
 marriages (instancing my own), that was due to 
 the fact that there were so many beautiful women 
 in England, that a man was never satisfied, and 
 always thought that by waiting he would get some- 
 thing better still. 
 
 I might, from the well-charged contents of my 
 note-book, carefully made up every night during 
 my stay in Afghanistan, tell many more tales of 
 my unusual and astonishing host. Perhaps some 
 day I may narrate some of my dealings with him, 
 when, instead of being a visitor at his capital, I 
 became the head of the Government of India and 
 was called upon to correspond with him in an 
 official capacity. He was a very difficult person 
 to handle and a very formidable opponent to cross. 
 
 In my numerous interviews I flatter myself 
 that I succeeded in winning the Amir's confidence, 
 and he certainly spoke very kindly of me in his 
 autobiography, published by his secretary, who 
 acted as interpreter at our meetings. Upon me 
 he left a profound, even if a somewhat chequered 
 impression. Before I left Kabul he had made 
 and presented to me with his own hand a gold 
 star, inlaid with rubies and diamonds, and en- 
 graved with a Persian inscription. 
 
98 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Seven years later, i.e., in October 1901, Amir 
 Abdur Rahman Khan died at the comparatively 
 early age of fifty-seven, though he was commonly 
 believed to be much older. On that occasion the 
 following proclamation, with which I close my 
 chapter, was issued by his son, Habibulla, who 
 succeeded him: 
 
 The blessed corpse of the august and potent King, 
 according to his will, was carried to the Royal Taralistan 
 with great pomp and honour, and he was interred in the 
 ground, and placed in a place where is the real and 
 ultimate abode of man. That august and potent monarch, 
 that King of pleasing and praiseworthy manners, expired 
 and sank in the depth of the kindness of God. May his 
 abode be in Heaven ! 
 
 In summing up his character, I do not think 
 that I can find a better description than the final 
 verdict which was passed by the Roman biog- 
 rapher upon the Emperor Hadrian, the studied 
 antitheses of which have a peculiar appropriate- 
 ness in the case of the Afghan Amir: ^^ Severiis 
 laetus, comis gravis, lascivus ctmctator, tenaoo 
 liberaliSj, simulator simplex, saeous clemens, et 
 semper in omnibus variu>sf* ^ 
 
 ^ Spartiauus, Be Vita Hadricmi, 14> 11. 
 
Three 
 THE VOICE OF MEMNON 
 
Three 
 THE VOICE OF MEMNON 
 
 As morn from Memnon drew 
 Rivers of melody. 
 
 Tennyson, " The Palace of Art/* 
 
 LONG before the dahabeah enters upon the 
 J great sweep of river that skirts the pylons 
 of Kamak, the travellers have strained their eyes 
 to discover whatever traces may be visible of the 
 once mighty city, the metropolis of an empire, and 
 the mausoleum of its kings — Egyptian Thebes. 
 How much or how little will be remaining of the 
 hundred temple-towers, the shrines and statues 
 and obelisks without number, the avenues of 
 sphinxes, the princely palaces and fortresses, the 
 sculptured courts and colonnades? On the east- 
 ern bank the ruins of Karnak stand up in solid 
 and monumental grandeur; but on the western 
 the eye wanders over the level expanse that 
 stretches to the foot of the hills, wherein lie the 
 rifled secrets of the Tombs of the Kings, without 
 at first encountering more than a few confused 
 heaps or mounds, scarcely distinguishable from 
 the sand which surrounds them. Presently, how- 
 ever, our gaze is arrested by two dark objects, 
 situated at a greater distance from the river than 
 the ruins already observed, and differing from 
 
 101 
 
102 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 them both in appearance and elevation. They 
 seem to rise up hke twin martellos, or watch- 
 towers from the desert, and to stand apart in mel- 
 ancholy solitude. The spectacle is strange and 
 puzzhng, and for a moment our imagination is at 
 a loss for a key. Suddenly it flashes upon us that 
 the two mysterious objects which have excited our 
 astonishment are none other than the famed 
 Colossi of Thebes — the Vocal Memnon and his 
 mute companion. 
 
 A walk of a little over a mile from the river 
 bank brings us to the base of the statues. As we 
 approach them through the allotments of clover 
 and maize, they loom up higher and higher, until, 
 as we stand at their feet, their stupendous shapes 
 almost exclude the sky. Placed on the very fringe 
 of the cultivated soil, where the furthermost Nile 
 deposit is cut short by the first wave of sand, they 
 stand between the dead and the living, and seem 
 like two grim sentinels stationed to guard the 
 entrance to the desert behind. At other times, 
 when the inundations are abroad and the surround- 
 ing country is turned into a sea, they tower with 
 an even greater solemnity above the waters. The 
 Nile stretches in an imbroken level from its own 
 channel till it washes their pedestals and laves 
 their massive feet. How vividly do we realise the 
 prophet's description of " populous No, that was 
 situate among the rivers, that had the waters 
 round about it, whose rampart was the sea, and 
 her wall was from the sea." ^ It is under these 
 
 iNahum iii. 8. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 103 
 
 conditions and at sunset that the pair should be 
 seen. Then, as the glowing disc sinks behind the 
 hills that enclose the Valley of the Tombs of the 
 Kings and the dwindling radiance of the heavens 
 is repeated in the mirror of the flood, they brood 
 like huge black spectres over the darkening scene. 
 Keats must have heard of this moment when he 
 wrote in "Hyperion": 
 
 .... a vast shade 
 In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk 
 Of Memnon's image at the set of sun 
 To one who travels from the dusking East. 
 
 Blacker and huger each moment the figures be- 
 come, their monstrous shadows thrown forward 
 upon the lake, till at length even the afterglow 
 has faded, and, still as death themselves, they fitly 
 preside over the deadly stillness of the southern 
 night. 
 
 A closer inspection enhances rather than de- 
 tracts from the majesty of the images. They are 
 planted 54 feet apart, and face towards the south- 
 south-east. Each represents a colossal male figure 
 seated upon a throne, which is itself supported by 
 a pedestal. Though the faces of both have been 
 hacked out of all human resemblance, yet the 
 shapeless blocks of stone seem endowed with an 
 indefinable sentience, as if, though bereft even of 
 the similitude of human features, their sight could 
 pierce the endless vistas of space and time. The 
 arms are attached to the sides and recline upon 
 the stalwart thighs; the hands, with fingers out- 
 
104 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 stretched and turned slightly inwards, are placidly 
 disposed upon the knees ; the legs, like two mighty 
 columns, rest against the throne and lift up the 
 lap of the Colossus to the sky. The whole atti- 
 tude is that of a giant who has sat himself down 
 to take his repose after the fatigues and turmoil 
 of successful war. The height of the figures is 
 51 feet without, and 64 feet with, the pedestal; 
 but of the latter 6 feet are now buried beneath the 
 accimiulations left by the Nile. Before these had 
 been formed, and when the pedestals were bare 
 to their foundations, when, further, each head was 
 framed in the full spreading wig of the Egyptian 
 Pharaohs, and when the faces and bodies were 
 intact, the impression produced must have been 
 such as could be felt rather than described. Be- 
 tween the legs of each statue are small figures of 
 the wife and mother of the King; a figure of his 
 daughter stands by his knee. On the two sides of 
 the two thrones are deeply incised pictures of the 
 Nile gods of Upper and Lower Egypt, who are 
 plaiting together the stems of the papyrus and the 
 lotus, the emblems of the two provinces. 
 
 Every one knows that these statues are effigies 
 of the same King — ^Amunoph, or Amenhotep, or 
 Amenophis III., one of the most famous sover- 
 eigns and conquerors of the Eighteenth Dynasty, 
 who reigned at Thebes about 1500 B.C., and was 
 the husband of Queen Thiy and father of the 
 heretic King Amenophis IV., or Akhnaton, one 
 of whose daughters married the recently discov- 
 ered Tutankhamen. The cartouches on the backs 
 
[105 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 107 
 
 of both figures contain the King's name. Known, 
 too, is the name of the architect — the same as that 
 of the royal master who delighted to do him 
 honour — ^Amenhotep, son of Hapu, whose own 
 statue, richly adorned with inscriptions, is in the 
 Boulak collection at Cairo. Thereon we read: 
 
 For my lord the King was created the monument of 
 sandstone. Thus, did I according to that which seemed 
 best in my own eyes, causing to be made two images of 
 a noble hard stone in his likeness in this his great building, 
 which is like unto heaven. . . . After this manner made 
 I perfect the King's images, wonderful for their breadth, 
 lofty in their height, the stature whereof made the gate- 
 tower to look small. Forty cubits was their measure.^ 
 In the glorious sandstone mountain wrought I them, on 
 this side and on that, on the east side and on the west. 
 Furthermore, I caused to be built eight ships, whereon 
 they were carried up and set in his lofty building. It 
 will last as long as the heaven endureth. 
 
 From this interesting record we gather that the 
 material of the Colossi was derived from quarries 
 lower down the Nile, probably from those in the 
 
 1 Taking the cubit to be the ordinary cubit of I814 inches, this 
 corresponds fairly well with the actual height given above. Others, 
 reckoning by the royal cubit of 20% inches, have made the original 
 height 69 feet, and accounted for the difference by supposing that 
 the heads were once surmounted with the pshent, or duplicate crown 
 of Upper and Lower Egypt, so frequent a feature in colossal repre- 
 sentations of the Pharaohs. It is probable, however, that these fig- 
 ures were without the pshent, both because no trace of it is observ- 
 able upon the head of the southern or unrepaired colossus, and be- 
 cause there were found in the immediate vicinity, and are now to be 
 seen in the British Museum, two statues in black granite of the 
 same Amunoph — precise facsimiles on a smaller scale of the Colossi — ; 
 both of which are wigged but imcrowned. 
 
108 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 hills of Toora above Cairo, that they were towed 
 or floated up the river on great barges, and were 
 then erected before the outermost pylons of the 
 magnificent temple which Amunoph III., in addi- 
 tion to his works at Luxor and Kamak, was 
 building as a memorial of himself in the western 
 quarter of Thebes. The famous sculpture of the 
 Colossus on a Sledge in the grotto of Ed-Dayr 
 (so happily adapted by the late Sir E. Poynter, 
 P.R.A., to the subject of one of his best known 
 pictures) will give us some idea of the arduous 
 passage of these mighty blocks, estimated as 
 weighing 1200 tons apiece, from the river bank to 
 their final resting place before the pylons of the 
 royal temple. The latter, which has perished 
 utterly, has itself been described as " probably the 
 greatest work of art ever wrought in Egypt." 
 
 The most superficial observation discloses sev- 
 eral points of difference between the pair. The 
 southernmost Colossus is a monolith, and has evi- 
 dently suffered less from the hand of the destroyer 
 than its companion, though its face and breast 
 are mutilated beyond all recognition. The more 
 northern statue resembles the other from the 
 ground up to its waist, being composed of the 
 same dark breccia, or composite stone; but its 
 upper parts consist of five tiers of a lighter sand- 
 stone, roughly hewn, and built up one on the top 
 of the other, in rude semblance of arms and chest 
 and head. The thrones and pedestals of both are 
 adorned with deeply incised figures and hiero- 
 glyphics; but the feet of the northernmost are 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 109 
 
 covered with a network of inscriptions in Greek 
 and Latin, extending over the instep and reaching 
 half-way up the leg. This latter is the celebrated 
 Vocal Memnon. Its history and interpretation 
 are the problems which I am about to discuss. 
 
 The first question to settle is: When did the 
 mutilation of the one and the shattering of the 
 other (thus necessitating its repair with a different 
 material) take place, and to what agencies are 
 they to be ascribed? Writers have conmionly de- 
 voted their entire attention to the vicissitudes of 
 the Memnon, without turning a thought to the 
 damage inflicted on the Amunoph. But the two 
 cases must be considered together, and may be 
 found to throw a reciprocal light upon each other; 
 for though a catastrophe arising from natural 
 causes might have overtaken the one while sparing 
 the other, yet the hand of a himian destroyer 
 would not be likely to have purposely exercised 
 a similar discrimination. 
 
 Of the authorities on the subject to whoni 
 weight must be attached, Strabo, who visited 
 Thebes about 20 B.C., and found the northernmost 
 statue in ruins, the upper half having been hurled 
 to the ground, says that the people of the district 
 attributed the downfall to an earthquake.^ Pau- 
 sanias, on the other hand, travelling in Egypt 150 
 years later, mentions a local report that the statue, 
 clearly not yet repaired, was one which Cambyses 
 had shivered ^ — a belief which is countenanced by 
 
 1 strabo, Geog. xvii. 816. 
 2Pau8ania8, Attica, i. 42-3. 
 
110 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 several of the inscriptions upon its feet/ The 
 researches of the French writer, M. Letronne, 
 whose industry poured a flood of light upon the 
 entire subject,^ showed that an earthquake did take 
 place in Egypt in 27 B.C., shortly before Strabo's 
 visit, and that it wrought terrible havoc among 
 the edifices of Thebes. It has accordingly been 
 accepted — and the conclusion is one which it is 
 impossible to resist — ^that the destruction of the 
 Memnon occurred at that time and from those 
 causes. Hence has ensued the rejection of the 
 idea that Cambyses had any hand in the work of 
 demolition, which has been set down as the indo- 
 lent fabrication of a later age. 
 
 But here the experience of the fellow Colossus 
 may well be invoked. In its case the mutilation 
 is obvious, but only partial, and is such as could 
 not conceivably have been effected by a convulsion 
 of nature, or by the mere lapse of time. May we 
 not therefore reconcile the two explanations, and 
 believe (1) that Cambyses, the great iconoclast, 
 the assassin of the sacred bull, the defiler of tem- 
 ples and tombs, spent his frantic but feeble rage 
 upon these as upon other images, hacking at their 
 features and fronts, and perhaps, by so doing, 
 weakening the stability of the Memnon; but (2) 
 that the latter owed the ruin of its upper half to 
 the earthquake of 27 B.C.? In this way we ac- 
 count for both phenomena, viz., the intentional 
 
 1 Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum (ed. Boeckli), 4730, 4741, 4745, 
 4749, 4756. 
 
 2 CEuvres Choisies de A. J. Letrorme, edites par E. Fagnan, vol, il., 
 Paris, 1881. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 111 
 
 mutilation of the Amunoph and the undesigned 
 overthrow of the Memnon. 
 
 But how, it may be asked, did it come about 
 that the name Memnon was ever applied to the 
 northern statue? The utmost ingenuity has been 
 expended upon the solution of this problem. 
 Each school has been struck by the remarkable 
 confirmation afforded of its own pet hypothesis. 
 Those who explain all mythology by the simple 
 key of the Solar Myth — an intrepid and romantic 
 band — have fastened with avidity upon the evi- 
 dence of sun-worship at Thebes and other places 
 where the name of Memnon is found, and have 
 seen in the reputed image of the son of Eos an 
 effigy of the sim-god himself. Others have sup- 
 posed that the speaking statue was called Menrnon 
 from the prophetic qualities attributed in Oriental 
 mjrthology to the head of that hero. The foolish 
 suggestion has even been made that the name was 
 given because the sounds heard resembled the syl- 
 lables mem-non, A more defensible theory is that 
 Memnon, whom most classical writers connect 
 with Ethiopia, is a figure that might not unnatu- 
 rally be found in the Egyptian pantheon; and to 
 this idea the title Memnonium, commonly given 
 to the western quarter of Thebes and to the tem- 
 ples of Abydus, lower down the river, has been 
 supposed to lend support. 
 
 In reality, however, Memnon had probably 
 nothing to do with Egypt at all. From a com- 
 parison of the various authorities by whom the 
 legend is mentioned, Memnon, if he ever existed. 
 
112 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 must have been an Asiatic prince, who came from 
 Susa, and led a force of Asiatic Ethiopians to the 
 rehef of Troy, where he was slain, according to 
 most accounts, by Achilles. How, then, are we 
 to account for the presence of the name in more 
 than one place in Egypt, and for the popular 
 tradition which associated him with that coun- 
 try? 
 
 No evidence exists that any such connection was 
 suspected till the later period of the Greek settle- 
 ment in Egypt, when it appears in the Greek 
 papyri of Thebes, and in the pages of Strabo and 
 Diodorus Siculus. There can be little doubt, 
 therefore, that it owed its origin to the omnivorous 
 credulity of the Greek immigrants. Eager to 
 find, wherever they went, a confirmation of the 
 Homeric legend, they fell easy victims to the 
 fictitious identification of famous names. Sir 
 Gardner Wilkinson has pointed out that Miamun 
 was a title of Rameses II., whose great palace- 
 temple at Thebes, now usually called the Rames- 
 eum, is probably the Memnonium of Strabo, and 
 whose other temple at Abydus is called Mem- 
 nonium by the same writer. The name Mennu 
 appears also in the Egyptian vocabulary applied 
 to the memorial temples erected by the kings in 
 the Necropolis of Thebes. Miamun or Mennu 
 might easily be converted into Memnon, and we 
 should thus account for the name both at Thebes 
 and Abydus. It would be transferred with equal 
 plausibiHty to the statue of Amimoph, and with 
 even greater force if the latter had already devel- 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 113 
 
 oped its vocal powers. For not only would 
 Amenophis find an obvious Hellenic equivalent in 
 Memnon, but the image speaking at sunrise would 
 irresistibly suggest the lamented hero plaintively 
 addressing his mother, the Dawn. 
 
 We may therefore conjecture that the title of 
 Memnon had in this case no more abstruse origin 
 than an accidental similarity of names, greedily 
 snatched at by Hellenic pilgrims and enhanced 
 by the supposed corroboration of a popular 
 mythology supplied by the vocal portent. That 
 the delusion was not shared by the natives is ex- 
 pressly stated by Pausanias, who says that the 
 Thebans would not admit that the statue was of 
 Memnon, but ascribed it (as we have seen, with 
 perfect justice) to one of their own countrymen, 
 Phamenoph. Two Greek inscriptions upon the 
 left leg repeat the same conviction.^ 
 
 And now as to the vocal powers so mysteriously 
 acquired by the northern Colossus, which made it 
 one of the wonders of the ancient world. Already 
 we have seen that this statue, having probably suf- 
 fered injury at the hands of Cambyses, was almost 
 certainly overthrown, the lower part alone being 
 left standing, by an earthquake in 27 B.C. There 
 is no mention of any sounds before the latter year.^ 
 It is a significant fact that Strabo, the first re- 
 
 1 Corp. Insc. Graec. 4727, 4731. 
 
 2 Except in inscriptions of the second century a.d. {Corp. Inso. 
 Graec. 4730, 4741), which embody the legendary beliefs of the day. 
 Writers of a much later date reproduce the same fancy, viz., that 
 prior to the sacrilege of Cambyses Memnon had uttered articulate 
 sounds. 
 
114 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 corded visitor after the earthquake, is also the 
 first who relates the phenomenon. He says that 
 a noise as of a slight blow was believed to issue at 
 sunrise from the upright portion of the figure. 
 He heard it himself, but, he adds, was unable to 
 say whether it proceeded from the Colossus or 
 from the pedestal, or from the people standing 
 round, though he was in the last degree unwilling 
 to believe that such a sound could possibly emanate 
 from the stone. 
 
 From this time forward a consistent series of 
 witnesses testify to the continuance of the miracle. 
 Tacitus tells us that Germanicus, who visited 
 Egypt in a.d. 19 on his way to Syria, inspected the 
 ruins of Egypt, and bestowed particular attention 
 upon the speaking image,^ though his enthusiastic 
 language may be held to reflect the popular beliefs 
 of his .own day rather than of those whose history 
 he was writing. Certain it is, however, that from 
 the reign of Xero onwards the Memnon acquired 
 a wider renown. Then for the first time we find 
 the favoured pilgrim recording his gratitude after 
 the most approved modern fashion, in a Greek or 
 Latin inscription, sometimes metrical, sometimes 
 the reverse, upon the legs of the statue. These 
 compositions are of varying merit according to the 
 taste or ability of their authors. One of the best 
 is a Greek stanza carved upon the front of the 
 pedestal by one Asclepiodotus, imperial procu- 
 rator, and a man of culture, which may be liter- 
 ally rendered thus : 
 
 i^ Annates, ii. 61. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 115 
 
 O sea-born Thetis, know that when 
 
 His mother's torch is lit 
 Memnon awakes and cries aloud, 
 
 Fired by the warmth of it. 
 Beneath the brow of Libyan heights. 
 
 Where Nilus cuts in twain 
 .The city of the glorious gates, 
 
 He wakes to life again. 
 Yet thine Achilles, who in fight 
 
 Ne'er slaked his savage joy. 
 On the Thessalian plains is mute. 
 
 Is mute on those of Troy/ 
 
 Juvenal, who is believed to have been in Egypt 
 in the reign of Domitian, is the next visitor of im- 
 portance. His words — 
 
 Dimidio magicae resonant ubi Memnone chordae,^ 
 
 leave no doubt that the figure when seen by him 
 was still in the same truncated condition. Lucian, 
 who was, and Pliny, who was not, an eye-witness,^ 
 both mention the phenomenon. But the zenith 
 of celebrity appears to have been reached in the 
 time of Hadrian. That indefatigable sightseer, 
 with his wife Sabina and a large suite, several 
 times visited and heard Memnon; and so great an 
 impetus was given to the expedition by the impe- 
 rial patronage, that we find nearly thirty inscrip- 
 tions dating from this reign. Pausanias, also a 
 visitor about this time and an auditor of the 
 
 lOorp. Insc. Graec. 4747. 2 Juvenal, Sat. xv. 5. 
 
 3 Pliny, Nat. Hist, xxxvi. 58. 
 
116 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 miracle, confirms the description of Juvenal, and 
 adds the interesting detail that the noise resem- 
 bled the snapping of a harp-string. Inscriptions 
 of a later date prove that the sound from the shat- 
 tered base continued to be heard till the reign of 
 Septimius Severus. The year 196 marks the last 
 recorded instance/ From that date till the pres- 
 ent time the hero has remained speechless, and 
 
 Memnon's lyre has lost the chord 
 That breathed the mystic tone. 
 
 One fact has been made abundantly clear by this 
 narrative, viz., that the " rivers of melody " which, 
 in Lord Tennyson's somewhat hyperbolic phrase, 
 *'mom from Memnon drew," flowed only while 
 the upper half of Memnon did not exist. We 
 may therefore give the conge at once to all the 
 pretty stories of Aurora kissing her son upon the 
 lips and the latter uttering an articulate reply, 
 which have captivated the not too critical fancy of 
 the poets or of prose writers claiming a more than 
 poetical licence. The only two authors of any- 
 thing like contemporary date who give currency 
 to the fiction are Lucian and Philostratus. The 
 former puts the conceit into the mouth of a pro- 
 fessional liar in one of his Dialogues^ with the 
 manifest object of discrediting the ridiculous tale. 
 Philostratus, relating the travels of Apollonius of 
 Tyana in the first century a.d., quotes the account 
 of a certain Damis, who accompanied the pagan 
 
 "^ Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (ed. Mommsen), 61. 
 2 Lucian, Philopseudes, c. 33 ; cf . Toxa/ris seu Amicitia, c. 27. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 117 
 
 mystic to Thebes. Damis describes the statue as 
 that of a young and beardless man,^ whose eyes 
 sparkled, and whose lips spoke as they faced the 
 rising sun, and who appeared to bend forward in 
 an attitude of salutation/ As the evidence sum- 
 marised above proves that Memnon was at the 
 time of Apollonius's visit only a sundered and 
 headless block of stone, the philosopher is not to 
 be congratulated upon these practical testimonials 
 to the veracity of his Boswell. 
 
 From the fact that the last attested instance of 
 Memnon having spoken was in the reign of Sep- 
 timius Severus, it may be inferred that something 
 must then have happened to suspend the continu- 
 ance of the sound. We know from his biog- 
 rapher^ that the Emperor himself visited the 
 statue — the last of the Caesars who did so — 
 though, as no inscription is found containing his 
 name, it is almost certain that he was unsuccess- 
 ful. These circumstances supplied M. Letronne 
 with the very clue which was lacking to explain 
 the restoration described in an earlier paragraph 
 of this article. His reasoning may be held to 
 have established that the five tiers of sandstone 
 were added by Severus in the desire to propitiate 
 the mute divinity and to reawaken his full powers 
 of utterance. The futility of these pious inten- 
 tions, and the coincidence of the repair of Mem- 
 
 1 Both colossi were almost certainly bearded ; vide the statues of 
 Amunoph III. in the British Museum. 
 
 2 Philostratus, De Vita Apollonei Tyanei, lib. vi. c. 3, 4j of. 
 Eeroica, c. 4, and Imagines, lib. i. c. 7. 
 
 8 Spartianus, c. 17. 
 
118 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 non with the commencement of his long silence, 
 will have an important bearing upon the discus- 
 sion that will presently follow. 
 
 The later history of Memnon may be dismissed 
 almost in a sentence. From the beginning of the 
 third century a.d. a cloud of impenetrable dark- 
 ness settles down upon his fame and fortunes, and 
 no suspicion was entertained that the vocal image 
 still existed at Thebes till it was re-identified be- 
 tween 1737 and 1739 by Pococke, who copied 
 some of the inscriptions and published in his 
 travels a description and drawing of the statue. 
 Norden, the Danish traveller, had visited the spot 
 in December 1737; but from the report which he 
 sent to the Royal Society in London, in 1741, it 
 does not appear even to have crossed his mind that 
 the northern Colossus was that of Memnon, 
 though he copied a few of the inscriptions and 
 made a drawing of the lower half of the figure. 
 From that time onwards the investigation pro- 
 ceeded with ever-increasing interest, notwithstand- 
 ing that the natives, till prompted by foreign 
 tourists, persisted in describing the images as 
 those of a male and female, whom they called 
 Shaama and Taama, thus unconsciously, even in 
 their ignorance, preserving the original and au- 
 thentic name. 
 
 There remain two points of considerable inter- 
 est before I pass to the explanation of the so- 
 called miracle. These are the nature of the sound 
 and the conditions under which it was heard. I 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 119 
 
 have shown that it was described by Strabo as the 
 kind of noise resulting from a shght blow, and by 
 Pausanias as resembling the snapping of a harp- 
 string. The former idea is reproduced in one of 
 the inscriptions/ where it is spoken of as a high- 
 pitched note, and is compared to the sound pro- 
 duced by striking brass; the latter is confirmed by 
 the language of Juvenal (magicae chordae) and 
 by the word crepare employed by Pliny. We 
 may conclude that it was a clear, somewhat me- 
 tallic, sound, varying in pitch and intensity — 
 sometimes a shrill, sharp, twanging note, at others 
 a fainter and more ringing vibration. 
 
 Of the eighty-seven legible, or partially legible, 
 Greek and Latin inscriptions upon the legs which 
 have been collected by the indefatigable assiduity 
 of a succession of scholars, thirty-three contain a 
 reference to the hour or time of day at which the 
 phenomenon was heard. On eighteen occasions it 
 is mentioned as having happened at the first hour, 
 or sunrise, on eight between the first and second 
 hours, on six at the second hour, on two between 
 the second and third hours, on three at the third 
 hour. Two alone date the miracle before sunrise. 
 Nine of the writers, including the Empress Sabina, 
 testify to having heard it twice (sometimes, but 
 rarely, on the same morning) ; four of them, in- 
 cluding Hadrian, three times; two of them four 
 times; and one, a soldier of the Third Legion, no 
 less than twelve times. Two, of whom Sabina is 
 
 iCorp. Insc. Graec. 4725. 
 
120 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 one, relate that they failed on their first visit, but 
 were more fortunate on the second. Another was 
 not successful till the third time of asking. Sep- 
 timius Severus, as we have seen, never heard it at 
 all. Of those inscriptions, for the most part in 
 Latin, which specify the month, twelve refer to 
 February and eleven to March. These were by 
 far the most propitious months, perhaps because 
 they may have been then, as now, the favourite 
 season for ascending the Nile. These figures, 
 which are not without a distinct bearing upon the 
 issue, tend to show that the voice of Memnon was 
 most commonly heard at sunrise, as soon indeed 
 as the rays fell upon the statue (cf. Strabo, 
 Tacitus, Pliny, Pausanias and Lucian), but on 
 some occasions not till a later period of the morn- 
 ing. The sound was far from uniform in its oc- 
 currence, as the small number of inscriptions, out 
 of the thousands of persons who must have visited 
 Memnon, would alone sufiice to show; but those 
 who repeated the experiment might expect in 
 the long run to be rewarded for their persever- 
 ance. 
 
 We are now in possession of all the facts avail- 
 able to assist us in the elucidation of the prodigy. 
 Two alone of the many hypotheses that have been 
 put forward are worth considering or present any 
 features of probability. A multitude of wild con- 
 jectures, based on imagination, but claiming a 
 pseudo-scientific or mechanical interest, crumble 
 away as soon as they are touched by the merciless 
 finger of fact. There remain the rival theories 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 121 
 
 that the voice of Memnon was a fraud practised 
 by the Egyptian priesthood, and that it was a 
 natural phenomenon to be explained by physical 
 causes. 
 
 The former theory was very popular a century 
 ago, and found eager exponents among French 
 writers and savants, who, during and after the 
 Napoleonic expedition, took an absorbing interest 
 in the monuments of Egypt. One of these, M. 
 Langles, wrote a special dissertation on the sub- 
 ject. Another, M. Salverte, the author of a work 
 on occult science, even knew how the sound was 
 produced. Between the lips or somewhere in the 
 figure of the statue was a lens or mirror on which 
 the rays of the morning sun, being condensed, 
 were applied to the expansion of metallic levers, 
 which set in motion a series of hummers, which in 
 their turn struck the granite! 
 
 The theory of sacerdotal fraud found, however, 
 its most powerful and plausible exponent in the 
 English antiquarian Sir Gardner Wilkinson, in a 
 paper read before the Royal Society of Literature 
 in London, on December 18, 1833, in his Topog* 
 raphy of Thebes (1835), in his Modern Egypt 
 and Thebes (1843) and in the earlier editions of 
 Murray's Handbook to Egypt; and was then re- 
 peated by a long sequence of writers. So eminent 
 an authority may claim to state his own case, and 
 accordingly the following passage is reproduced 
 from the third of the above works (vol. ii. 158- 
 164), which may be taken to represent the ma- 
 tured opinions of the author: 
 
122 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 The priests, who no doubt contrived the sound of the 
 statue, were artful enough to allow the supposed deity 
 to fail occasionally in his accustomed habit; and some 
 were consequently disappointed on their first visit, and 
 obliged to return another morning to satisfy their curi- 
 osity. ... In the lap of the statue is a stone, which, on 
 being struck, emits a metallic sound, that might still 
 be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed 
 to believe its powers; and from its position, and the 
 •squared place cut in the block behind — as if to admit 
 a person who might thus lie concealed from the most 
 scrutinous observer in the plain below — it seems to have 
 been used after the restoration of the statue; another 
 similar recess exists beneath the present site of this stone, 
 which might have been intended for the same purpose 
 when the statue was in its mutilated state.; 
 
 Wilkinson then related that in the year 1824, 
 when he first tested the musical stone, the nature 
 of the sound did not appear to tally with the 
 account given by ancient authors; but that in 
 1830, having noticed the phrase "as of smitten 
 brass " in one of the inscriptions, he again 
 ascended, struck the block with a small hammer, 
 and received from a knot of peasants whom he 
 had posted below the gratifjdng response, ^^ Ente 
 hetidroh e'nahdsf' " You are striking brass." 
 This " convinced him that the sound was the same 
 that deceived the Romans, and led Strabo to ob- 
 serve that it appeared to him as the effect of a 
 slight blow." And, he triumphantly concluded, 
 " that it was a deception there can be little doubt. 
 The fact of the Emperor Hadrian hearing it thrice 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 123 
 
 looks very suspicious, and a natural phenomenon 
 would not have been so complimentary to the 
 Emperor when it sounded only once for ordinary 
 mortals." 
 
 It will be observed that Wilkinson, in the above 
 passage, started with the assumption, which he 
 clearly expected to carry conviction to every mind, 
 that the priests were at the bottom of the pre- 
 tended miracle, and then proceeded to fit into it, 
 first, the reeorded conditions under which the phe- 
 nomenon occurred, and, secondly, his own local 
 experiments and observations. As regards the 
 assumption, though somewhat defiantly stated, it 
 is one with which per se I am not disposed to 
 quarrel. No one acquainted with history is likely 
 to be overburdened with confidence in the integ- 
 rity of the Egyptian hierophants or to feel any 
 peculiar temptation to take up the cudgels on their 
 behalf. We may admit that these holy persons 
 would have been quite capable of practising the 
 deception had it been feasible or had it in the re- 
 motest degree served their purpose. Talking trees 
 and speaking stones are not unknown features in 
 sacerdotal annals. The duplicity of the priests is 
 a natural phenomenon more familiar to the public 
 mind than many of the best-attested phenomena 
 of Nature herself. It is not, however, on these 
 grounds that Wilkinson won credence for his 
 theory and succeeded in foisting it upon the 
 popular acceptance; it was because he supplied, 
 or appeared to supply, evidence of a confirmatory 
 character from his personal inspection of the 
 
124 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 statue. This testimony has never been examined, 
 and therefore, in the opinion of the majority, has 
 never been shaken ; whilst by those who have taken 
 the opposite side in the argument it has been 
 tacitly ignored. Indeed, I incline to the opinion 
 that of all those who have written about the Mem- 
 non Wilkinson is the only one who really made 
 the ascent. If, however, his account of its existing 
 condition, and the inferences which he is thereby 
 led to draw, can be shown to be incorrect, any 
 adventitious importance accruing to the theory of 
 imposture from the evidence of the figure will dis- 
 appear, and the case will have to be judged upon 
 the facts and phenomena recorded at an earher 
 stage of this discussion. 
 
 Having stated that there is a sonorous lump of 
 stone in the lap of the image, Wilkinson proceeded 
 to assert that there is a squared place cut in the 
 block behind it, which might — and in his opinion, 
 no doubt, did — conceal a hidden juggler " after 
 the restoration of the statue." As it is well estab- 
 lished that Memnon never spoke after his resto- 
 ration — Le.j, after the superimposed ranges of sand- 
 stone, in one of which this hollow space is said to 
 exist, were added to the broken base — it is imma- 
 terial to the question whether such a cavity exists 
 or not. At the most it would indicate, if true, 
 that deception may have been attempted — and, if 
 so, unsuccessfully attempted — after the repair — a 
 supposition in itself damaging to the hypothesis 
 of original fraud, inasmuch as it suggests an 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 125 
 
 endeavour to reproduce by artifice what had pre- 
 viously arisen from other causes. Wilkinson was 
 evidently aware of this initial flaw in his conten- 
 tion. Accordingly, he proceeded to remedy it by 
 stating that there is another recess, equally favour- 
 able to the designs of an impostor, situated not 
 behind, but beneath, the sonorous stone, and in the 
 base, from which tradition, without a responsible 
 dissentient voice, declares that the sound ema- 
 nated. He was thus ad utrumque parattis. If 
 a suspicious cavity is wanted in the broken Mem- 
 non, it is there: if in the repaired Memnon, it is 
 there also. Memnon, in fact, cannot escape with 
 untarnished reputation; he can never have spoken 
 without, like the Trojan horse, harbouring a secret 
 of treachery in his interior. 
 
 Unfortunately for Wilkinson, his statements in 
 both cases are invalidated by an examination of 
 the Colossus, and have only been accepted by 
 those who have never put themselves to the trouble 
 of climbing on to the lap of the giant. A ladder 
 — the resource of Lilliput in a similar emergency 
 — and a footrule are all that is required. An 
 investigation conducted with the aid of these ap- 
 pliances removed all doubt from my mind and 
 revealed the following as the actual condition of 
 the Memnon. 
 
 The original block is split downwards from the 
 waist or starting-point of the Roman masonry by 
 a great lateral fissure, converging towards the bot- 
 tom, and obviously due to natural causes, among 
 
126 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 which we can refer it to none other than the fa- 
 mous earthquake of 27 B.C. It extends from side 
 to side of the base, and is visible from below, 
 whence it was noticed by Pococke. This great 
 natural cleft is the earlier artificial recess of Wil- 
 kinson. Towards the top, where the new tiers 
 begin, the crack widens to a width which varies 
 from 17 to 31 inches, at the front of it being the 
 lap of the old statue, and at the back the bottom- 
 most range of the later addition. Here, in the 
 jaws of the rent, a block of sandstone — 17^/2 
 inches long from right to left, by 22^/^ inches 
 broad from front to back, and 10 inches deep, and 
 of corresponding colour and material to the Ro- 
 man superstructure — is caught and suspended. 
 Its sonorous qualities when struck do not differ 
 from those of any other stone in a similar position, 
 and are apparently due to its detached and pend- 
 ent situation. In any case, we can hardly accept 
 as a final court of appeal the organs, however, 
 sensitive, of the Theban fellahin. Behind and 
 above this stone is a gap in the masonry of the 
 restoration, from which it has either fallen or been 
 pulled out, the block immediately above the gap 
 having sunk down into it to a depth of several 
 inches, and in so doing having broken away from 
 the Roman cement still clinging to the under sur- 
 face of the block next again above. If the block 
 immediately above the gap were hoisted up to its 
 original level, and the fallen stone extricated from 
 its present resting-place, it would fit into the 
 space which it once occupied and the gap would 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 127 
 
 disappear. This fallen stone is the musical stone,^ 
 and this gap is the second artificial recess of Wil- 
 kinson! 
 
 We are now in a position to estimate the veri- 
 fication of the latter at its proper value. For, 
 summing up, we see that neither before nor after 
 the restoration was any recess artificially hewn in 
 the figure, nor any sonorous stone intentionally 
 deposited in the lap of Memnon. The lower 
 cavity was the result of a natural convulsion; the 
 upper cavity has been produced, we know not 
 when, by the very causes — probably the mischiev- 
 ousness or destructiveness of the Arabs — ^which 
 also detached the so-called musical stone from its 
 surroundings, and dropped it into the mouth of 
 the crack below. Accordingly, the case in these 
 respects entirely collapses. 
 
 So much for the direct evidence supplied by the 
 statue, which, instead of positively countenancing 
 the theory of fraud, negatively contradicts it. 
 The indirect evidence derived from the recorded 
 facts is more conclusive still, and on the very 
 points where Wilkinson claimed its support is in 
 reality fatal to his contention. He argued that 
 the inconstancy of the phenomenon, its scant re- 
 spect for ordinary mortals, and its partiality to 
 the Emperor Hadrian were proofs of a deep and 
 
 iThe indecision of Wilkinson himself is shown by the fact that 
 whereas the sounding stone in his later works is this block, in his 
 letter to the Eoyal Society {Transactions, vol. ii., pp. 451-6) it is 
 identified with the stone in the breast, immediately above the gap. 
 We may conjecture that the superior sonorous qualities of the sus- 
 pended stone ousted the earlier claimant from its proud position. 
 
128 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 calculating deception. But he conveniently for- 
 got that if Memnon spoke three times for the 
 Emperor, he declined to utter at all upon the first 
 visit of the Empress, who, as we hear from an 
 inscription composed by one of her ladies-in- 
 waiting, was inflamed with anger at the affront ; ^ 
 that he also sounded thrice for three other per- 
 sons, none of them of imperial rank ; ^ that two 
 visitors, a simple citizen of Caesarea Philippi, in 
 Galilee, and an unknown Roman were four times 
 honoured ; ^ and that whilst his most lavish favours 
 were conferred upon an untitled soldier of the 
 Third Legion, twelve times successful,* his crown- 
 ing rebuff was reserved for another Emperor — 
 Septimius Severus. There is nothing, indeed, to 
 show that persons of high rank were more fortu- 
 nate than their inferiors in the social scale, though 
 it is only natural that the successes of the rich and 
 cultured should have been commemorated rather 
 than those of the mass, who in many cases can 
 have had neither the interest nor the taste to com- 
 mand an inscription. The irregularity of the por- 
 tent will be seen to have a very different meaning. 
 Had the priests been responsible, we may be sure 
 that Memnon would have spoken with far greater 
 consistency and with a much superior discrimina- 
 tion. 
 
 In addition to the points already mentioned 
 there are a number of others, ignored by Wilkin- 
 
 1 Corp. Inso. Graeo. 4729. 
 
 ^Ihid. 4721-2; Corp, Insc. Latin. 45, 54. 
 
 3 Corp. Insc. Graeo. 4750; Corp. InsG. Latin. 40. 
 
 *JHef. 34. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 129 
 
 son, but collectively forming a body of circum- 
 stantial evidence, the significance of which cannot 
 be overlooked. If the priests manufactured the 
 sound, how are we to account for the recorded 
 variations in its quality and pitch? Why should 
 the impact of a hammer or similar instrument 
 upon a lump of stone sound on one occasion like 
 a snapping harp-string, on another like ringing 
 brass? Why, again, should the voice on some 
 days have been heard at sunrise, and on others not 
 till two or even three hours later in the morning? 
 Such a delay might be inconvenient to the visitors, 
 and would be extremely disagreeable to the incar- 
 cerated musician. Are we to believe that for two 
 hundred and twenty years a succession of athletic 
 priests climbed up without ladder or visible appli- 
 ance under cover of the night, and climbed down 
 on the ensuing day, in both cases defying and 
 defeating all observation? Memnon could not, 
 like the famous chess-playing automaton forty 
 years ago at the Crystal Palace, be occasionally 
 withdrawn from view while the operator effected 
 his ingress or egress. He sat in staring isolation 
 upon the open plain, whence he could be seen for 
 miles, where sceptical spirits must have kept watch 
 through many a night and day, and where we are 
 justified in declaring that such a design would 
 have been quite incapable of execution. Finally, 
 how comes it that for one thousand five hundred 
 years after the erection of the Colossi, and long 
 after the Greeks under the Ptolemaic Dynasty 
 had entered Egypt, not a breath was whispered of 
 
130 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 the marvel; whilst two hundred and twenty years 
 later, after an interval, as we are required to be- 
 lieve, but as was never even insinuated at the time, 
 of highly successful charlatanry, the jugglers sud- 
 denly lost their cunning, and the miracle ceased at 
 the very moment when such a witness to paganism 
 would have been of inestimable value as a set-off 
 to the growing popularity of the Christian faith? 
 Did the Egyptian priesthood enter upon an orbit 
 of deceit twenty years B.C., and complete it two 
 hundred years a.d., being, as it were, in apogee in 
 the reign of Hadrian? Above all, can we possibly 
 mistake the import of the fact that the period 
 during which Memnon spoke was precisely co- 
 extensive with the period during which he re- 
 mained shattered and unrepaired — a condition 
 which presented no further, but, on the contrary, 
 considerably less, advantages to the artifice than 
 when he was whole? 
 
 This also must be borne in mind, that, suppos- 
 ing all such difiiculties removed, the sacerdotal 
 caste had not the shghtest interest in practising 
 the fraud. Memnon was not a national or local 
 divinity; he had no temple, and was not wor- 
 shipped save by superstitious tourists at Thebes; 
 there is not a shred of evidence to show that in the 
 native mind any religious or devotional idea what- 
 ever was connected either with the statue or with 
 the phenomenon; among the multitude of inscrip- 
 tions upon the legs there is not a single one in 
 Egyptian characters, demotic or hieroglyphic. On 
 the contrary, we have seen that the Thebans per- 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 131 
 
 severed, in spite of the obstinate credulity of the 
 Greek or Roman pilgrims, in offering a correct 
 interpretation of the image; whilst one inscription 
 on the left leg contains the remarkable and con- 
 clusive statement that the name Amenoth and the 
 title of an Egyptian king were given to it by the 
 priests themselves/ 
 
 I hold, then, that the case against the priests 
 is quashed by the most overwhelming testimony, 
 and that the theory of deception can no longer be 
 sustained. And, therefore, I am driven to the 
 other alternative; for, if the sound did not pro- 
 ceed from human, manifestly it must have been 
 due to natural, causes. So little, however, is it 
 necessary to accept this solution as a pis alter that 
 it will be found to be the only one with which all 
 the data hitherto mentioned accord, and which at 
 once explains and reconciles the seemingly con- 
 flicting phenomena of the case. fWhen we remem- 
 ber that the mysterious sound was not heard till 
 the figure was broken in twain, nor after the frac- 
 ture had been repaired; that it was heard either 
 at or soon after sunrise, and at no other time of 
 the day ; ^ and that it presented no particular uni- 
 formity of occurrence or principle of manifesta- 
 
 1 Corp. Insc. Graec. 4731. 
 
 2 There are two inscriptions {Corp. Insc. Graec. 4722, 4725) in 
 whicli its occurrence is apparently dated before sunrise; but the 
 vagueness of the terms employed — in one case irplv irpdtTTjs ^pas, in 
 the other -irplv a^7As deklo) — leaves us in doubt as to the precise 
 hour intended. The " first hour " might signify either sunrise or 
 the space of an hour following; the second phrase is still more am- 
 biguous. The discrepancy, therefore, is one which cannot be pressed, 
 and which, if proven, might be explained as the result either of 
 exaggeration or of illusion. 
 
132 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 tion — the conclusion irresistibly suggests itself 
 that it was due to some peculiar relation between 
 the warmth of the rising sun and the great block 
 of cracked and sundered stone. If the action of 
 solar heat can be shown without improbability to 
 have produced the noise described, the various dif- 
 ficulties that have been raised one and all disap- 
 pear. The phenomenon cannot possibly have been 
 regular in its occurrence or uniform in its moment 
 of action, because on different days of the year 
 the sun will have risen in a different quarter of 
 the heavens, and with varying power — sometimes 
 striking with vehement rays directly upon the 
 statue, at others requiring to pierce through an 
 envelope of mist or vapour before its genial 
 warmth could reach that riven heart of stone. 
 This was why Memnon replied to-day in a musical 
 whisper, as though faintly acknowledging the 
 salute, to-morrow with a sharper intonation, as 
 though smitten with sudden pain; why he proved 
 no respecter of persons, and drew no distinction 
 between the humble legionary and the crowned 
 Caesar; why to some of his worshippers he spoke 
 with such gracious iteration, to others was so in- 
 exorably or incontinently dumb. The power that 
 was in him was communicated from without, and 
 could not be exercised save at the instance of 
 another. Though his lyre was ready strung, the 
 only fingers that could awake its music were the 
 rays of Phoebus Apollo. 
 
 Such is the line of reasoning that appeals to 
 those who hold, with me, that the explanation of 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 133 
 
 the mystery is to be sought in natural causes, and 
 who believe that the sound was in some way or 
 other due to the expansion in the stone of which 
 the base was composed, brought about by the sud- 
 den rise in temperature at dawn. The transition 
 from comparative chilliness to sensible warmth is 
 often very rapid in those climes, the sun on clear 
 mornings diffusing a penetrating glow almost the 
 moment he has topped the horizon, and speedily 
 exhausting the dews or vapours of the night. In 
 these circumstances, a physical change of a some- 
 what marked description in the substances affected 
 is not surprising, and much more when, as in this 
 case, the particular substance affected was a 
 siliceous conglomerate peculiarly lacking in homo- 
 geneity of composition, and with its natural co- 
 herence still further impaired by numerous acci- 
 dental cracks and fissures. Such an object would 
 be extremely susceptible of thermometric varia- 
 tions, and might be compared to a stringed instru- 
 ment, the chords of which were over-tautly 
 stretched. 
 
 Nor is this hypothesis left to stand alone, for it 
 is supported by other well-attested instances in 
 which sounds of musical quality have been known 
 to emanate from stones or rocks at sunrise. One 
 of the most frequently quoted is the phenomenon 
 reported by Baron von Humboldt as occurring on 
 the banks of the Orinoco, where tones as of an 
 organ are heard to proceed at that hour from some 
 granite rocks permeated with deep and narrow 
 crevices. Humboldt did not, as is frequently 
 
134 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 alleged, hear the music himself, but he described 
 it as being testified to by reliable witnesses, in- 
 cluding the European missionaries, who called 
 the sounding stones loaias de musica. He himself 
 attributed the sound to currents of heated air 
 escaping through the crevices. The sonorous 
 properties of certain sand-slopes or hills in dif- 
 ferent parts of the world, especially in Asia, are 
 to be referred to quite different causes, and though 
 quoted by Sir D. Brewster and others, when 
 speaking of Memnon, cannot be accepted as pre- 
 senting any analogy. But the members of the 
 French Scientific Commission sent by Napoleon I. 
 in the wake of his maurauding column up the 
 Nile (who, having anticipated Wilkinson in his 
 wholesale scepticism about the Memnon, may be 
 claimed as unbiassed witnesses) left on record that 
 on two occasions — once in the granite quarries of 
 Syene, and again in one of the temples of 
 Karnak — ^they heard at sunrise the same strange 
 crackling sound, reminding them of the simile 
 employed by Pausanias, viz., of a snapping chord. 
 Sir A. Smith and a party even heard, or thought 
 they heard, the soimd proceeding from the pedes- 
 tal of Memnon himself.^ Dr. Brugsch also testi- 
 fied to having heard a similar note in 1851 among 
 the ruins of Karnak. These parallel cases are 
 valuable, both as proofs that the vocal Memnon 
 was not a unique portent, and as buttresses to the 
 theory of natural causation. 
 
 Whilst, however, the miracle has been generally 
 
 "^Bevue Encyclopedique, 1821, vol. ix., p. 592. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 135 
 
 attributed by this school of scientific exegesis to 
 the action of the sun's rays upon the chilled stone, 
 different and inconsistent explanations of the pre- 
 cise physical origin of the sound have been ad- 
 vanced by various writers. Some, like Humboldt, 
 have believed it to be due to the passage of quick 
 currents of air set in motion by the sudden change 
 of temperature through the crevices of the shat- 
 tered monolith. But in that case one is tempted 
 to ask why the same result should not have been 
 produced by other and still more favourable 
 atmospheric conditions, such, for instance, as the 
 prevalence of a high wind. Others have imagined 
 that under the influence of the sudden heat small 
 fragments of the stone, which was without doubt 
 extremely elastic in nature, splintered and broke 
 off with a ringing noise. But, were that so, the 
 phenomenon should have been visible as well as 
 audible, and there can be no reason why it should 
 not be repeated to this hour. Others, again, and 
 these are the majority, laying stress upon the 
 heterogeneous ingredients of the stone, have sup- 
 posed a slight superficial rupture between its com- 
 ponent particles, resulting in a sharp vibration. 
 If, however, the integral quality of the stone were 
 alone concerned, the southern statue, which was 
 hewn from the same quarries, ought to have been 
 no less amenable to caloric influence, and should 
 have divided with Memnon the prerogative of 
 speech. 
 
 In my opinion, the phenomenon can only be 
 satisfactorily explained by bearing in mind and 
 
136 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 correlating two separate factors of the case — viz., 
 (1) the composition of the stone, already de- 
 scribed, and (2) the abnormal condition of the 
 statue during the period of vocality, consequent 
 upon the damage wrought by the earthquake. By 
 this convulsion Memnon was not only severed in 
 twain, but' shaken to his foundations, deflected 
 from his original level, and scarred by innumer- 
 able seams and rents, one of which, as has been 
 shown, almost bisected his still surviving half. To 
 account for the production of the sound, we must 
 believe that in one or other of these cracks there 
 occurred, under the waxing heat of the solar rays, 
 a sudden displacement of some movable portion 
 of the figure, an instantaneous shifting or rub- 
 bing of one face of stone upon another — in short, 
 a disturbance of physical continuity sufficiently 
 violent in its operation to communicate a sonorous 
 shock to the atmospheric medium, through which 
 it reached the ear of the listener outside. The 
 phenomenon would then be analogous to the com- 
 monplace incident of the cracking of an iron bar 
 in a grate under the growing heat of a powerful 
 fire, or to the spasmodic ringing of a newly ignited 
 stove. Among those who accept the natural ex- 
 planation, there are some who, as I have hinted, 
 have attributed the music to the whistling of the 
 wind through the fissures caused by the earth- 
 quake. I see no reason, however, for thinking that 
 the wind played any part in the phenomenon. 
 The dawn in the East is commonly a very tran- 
 quil scene. 
 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 137 
 
 Whether I have supplied the true interpreta- 
 tion or not — and the opportunity of scientific 
 proof can unfortunately never be obtained ^^ — in 
 this direction lies, as it seems to me, the only pos- 
 sibility of successfully prosecuting the inquiry. 
 Human agency, I claim at least to have shown, 
 was utterly unconcerned in the manifestation; and 
 if Nature, the great Thaumaturgus, has in the 
 Vocal Memnon propounded an enigma of which it 
 is beyond the scope of existing knowledge to sup- 
 ply more than a hypothetically correct solution — 
 if she whispered to those two centuries of a bygone 
 world a secret to which no Prometheus has yet 
 revealed the key — let us be content to recognise in 
 the mystery an additional tribute to the manifold 
 dispensations of her genius. 
 
 And here, well satisfied if in the above remarks 
 I have removed any prevalent misapprehensions 
 or diffused a more accurate knowledge about this 
 interesting statue, I take leave of the colossal pair 
 still seated on the Theban plain in sublime uncon- 
 sciousness of the varying sentiments which they 
 have excited in the breasts of so many successive 
 generations. There they sit, the two giant breth- 
 ren, scorched by the suns of more than three thou- 
 sand summers, ringed by unnumbered yearly em- 
 braces of the wanton stream. By their side Stone- 
 henge is a plaything, the work of pigmies. They 
 
 1 Unless, indeed, the upper half were again dismantled and the 
 statue restored to its mutilated condition — an experiment which 
 might be recommended could we be certain that the base had not 
 been tampered with, and its vocal capacities irremediably destroyed 
 by the repairs of Septimius Severus. 
 
138 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 are first even among the prodigies of Egypt; more 
 solemn than the Pyramids, more sad than the 
 Sphinx, more amazing than the pillared avenues 
 of Karnak, more tremendous than the rock-idols 
 of Aboo-Simbel. There they sit, patient and pa- 
 thetic, their grim obliterated faces staring out into 
 vacancy, their ponderous limbs sung in a per- 
 petual repose, indifferent alike to man and to 
 Nature, careless of the sacrilege that has been per- 
 petrated upon the mortal remains of the royal 
 house whose glories they portrayed, steadfast 
 while empires have crumbled and dynasties de- 
 clined, serene amid all the tides of war and rapine 
 and conquest that have ebbed and flowed from 
 Alexandria to Assouan. There they sit and doubt- 
 less will sit till the end of all things — sedent 
 aeternumque sedebunt — a wonder and a witness 
 to men. 
 
Four 
 THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 
 
Four: 
 THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 
 
 The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
 The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss; 
 The Hell of Waters ! where they howl and hiss 
 And boil in endless torture. 
 
 Byron, Childe Harold, Canto IV., St. 69. 
 
 WHEN I was President of the Royal Geo- 
 graphical Society I collected and pre- 
 sented to the Society, where they were hung in 
 one of the rooms, a series of large-scale photo- 
 graphs of the great waterfalls of the world. I do 
 not suggest that great waterfalls are more won- 
 derful or more inspiring than great mountains, — 
 for indeed it is ridiculous to compare the two, — 
 but they are much more rare, and they combine in 
 a peculiar degree the qualities of beauty and 
 power. In the first place, the known great 
 waterfalls of the world (I exclude cataracts and 
 rapids) can be counted on the fingers of the two 
 hands, whereas the famous mountain spectacles 
 may be numbered by thousands. Secondly, even 
 if we cannot go to the Himalayas, a few hours' 
 journey will show us scenes of exquisite mountain 
 glory on the European continent. On the other 
 hand, the great waterfalls are not to be found in 
 Europe at all. To visit them we have to travel 
 thousands of miles; and the majority of their 
 
 141 
 
142 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 number are so remote that till within the last 
 quarter of a century they were still imknown to 
 the white man, and even now have not been seen 
 by more than a few score of Europeans. And 
 finally there is something in the setting and the 
 movement of the falls, — the smooth slide of the 
 great river over the lip of the abyss; the crash of 
 the waters as they plunge into the chasm or are 
 shivered on the rocks below; the smoke-spray now 
 rising in mighty columns into the sky, now drift- 
 ing, interlaced with rainbows, in the breeze; the 
 framework of vegetation, tropical, it may be, in 
 its superb luxuriance; and lastly the course of the 
 current, as collecting itself after the leap it tears 
 its way, often through gorges of indescribable 
 grandeur, — there is something in all this that pre- 
 sents a variety of effect, both sensational and 
 aesthetic, with which even the greatest of moun- 
 tains, immovable and unchanging in its bulk, 
 austere in its snowy purity, terrible in its majesty, 
 and remote with its unsealed precipices and its un- 
 trodden peaks, cannot vie. Another element of 
 difference is that while the mountains have no 
 voice but that of the storm, the great waterfall 
 never ceases to thunder even under the brightest 
 of skies, and fills the spectator with awe as well 
 as admiration. 
 
 Fortune has never enabled me to visit the 
 magnificent Falls of Kaietuk (commonly called 
 Kaieteur) in British Guiana, where the River 
 Potaro, a confluent of the Essequibo, hurls itself 
 into a basin 740 feet below; nor the Iguasu Falls 
 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 143 
 
 of the Parana River in the Argentine, rushing 
 through an archipelago of islands and plunging 
 into a gorge of surpassing beauty; nor the 
 Tequendama Falls, nearly 450 feet high, near 
 Bogota in Colombia; nor the Grand Falls of 
 Labrador — all of the above in the American Con- 
 tinent; nor again the Orange River Falls in South 
 Africa, the ugliest waterfall, situated in the most 
 repellent surroundings, in the world. As these 
 are so little known I add a chapter about them 
 and about some others which may be of interest 
 to those who desire to study and to visit these 
 wonders of Nature. 
 
 But I have seen Niagara, of which I will say 
 nothing, except that man is hard at work despoil- 
 ing and defaming this masterpiece of Nature; the 
 two falls of the Yellowstone; the various water- 
 falls of the Yosemite, of which something will be 
 said in my second volume; the wonder-spot of 
 Gersoppa in South India; and the Victoria Falls 
 of the Zambesi, which, as perhaps the most aston- 
 ishing of all, I propose here to describe. 
 
 Known to the natives as Mosioatunya or the 
 Smoke Sounding, they were first discovered by 
 Livingstone in 1855. Now that the country, in 
 British hands, has been opened up by the railway, 
 they are accessible to any one who, being in South 
 Africa, can spare the time for the long journey 
 from Cape Town or Natal to the river. Of such 
 a scene a photograph is more eloquent than any 
 description; nor am I clear that any word-picture 
 of any great waterfall that I have ever read has 
 
144 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 given me an adequate idea of the reality. If, then, 
 I reproduce what I wrote about the Victoria 
 Falls, directly I had seen them, it is not so much 
 that I hope to succeed where others have failed, 
 as that, having penned the following words in the 
 train that took me away from the Zambesi, they 
 may possess the slight merit of a vivid and un- 
 blurred impression. 
 
 In all countries where there is a dry and a wet 
 season a waterfall will differ greatly at different 
 seasons of the year. Gersoppa is nearly dry be- 
 fore the end of the cold weather; but after the 
 rains the volume of water discharged into the 
 chasm, which is nearly 900 feet in sheer depth, is 
 so great that the fall itself is rendered invisible 
 by the spray. The same holds true of the Victoria 
 Falls. They are at their lowest before the rains, 
 which begin in December; and visitors in the dry 
 season — Le,j, between September and December — 
 console themselves for the relatively meagre wisps 
 and driblets of water which in many parts of the 
 fall are all that come over the edge, by the better 
 opportunities that they enjoy of examining the 
 walls of the great chasm which the resistless river 
 has been eating through unnumbered ages into the 
 heart of the black basalt. At that season a man 
 can wade across many parts of the river at no 
 great distance from the top of the fall, for the 
 water is seldom more than two feet to three feet 
 in depth, and often much less. Large sections of 
 the black cliff are entirely exposed, and it is pos- 
 sible to walk out from Cataract Island or froni 
 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 145 
 
 Livingstone Island, which are both on the top of 
 the falls, and to stand on the very brink of the 
 naked edge. The Devil's Cataract, adjoining the 
 left bank, and the Rainbow Fall, in the centre, are 
 then the only considerable mass of water; and, as 
 appears from the photographs that are taken at 
 that period, even the Rainbow Fall, which was of 
 surpassing grandeur when I saw it, and presented 
 an uninterrupted sheet of water, is split up into 
 separate cascades. On the other hand, when the 
 sun is shining, which it is more apt to do in the 
 dry weather, the effect of the rainbows, tilted 
 against the fall at innumerable angles, and follow- 
 ing the spectator with their scintillating hoops as 
 he moves, is finer and more constant. 
 
 It is in April and May, when, though the rain 
 has ceased at the falls, the swollen water from the 
 uplands far in the interior reaches them, that they 
 are at their highest, and then the river pours in a 
 flood hke that of Niagara over the lip, and plunges 
 in an unbroken sheet into the shrouded abyss 
 below. This must be a glorious spectacle. But 
 such is the density and fury of the spray-storm 
 rising into the air like the smoke of some vast 
 cauldron, that the spectator within 100 yards of 
 the cataract can see nothing at all, and gets little 
 beyond a drenching for his pains. 
 
 Perhaps a visitor at the " mean " epoch — Le.j 
 when the rains have been sufficient to fill the river 
 and produce a great mass of water, but not so 
 overwhelming as to blot out the view — is the most 
 fortunate. Anyhow these differences of season 
 
146 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 and their effects are enough to account for the 
 widely different verdicts that have been passed 
 upon the Victoria Falls by those who have de- 
 scribed them. They are also responsible for the 
 complete inadequacy of any photographic repre- 
 sentation to do justice to the majestic grandeur 
 of the scene. It is clear that, when the river is in 
 flood and the falls are concealed behind an im- 
 penetrable screen of spray, no camera can be used 
 with effect. This explains why the majority of 
 illustrations in books, which were naturally taken 
 under favourable conditions of sky and sun, are 
 so inadequate. At low water the photographer, 
 or, for the matter of that, the sightseer, should 
 be warned off. 
 
 One of the glories of Niagara is the great sweep 
 of water, deep and swift and irresistible, in the 
 bed of the river above the cataract. The Zambesi 
 presents a very different spectacle. Although at 
 a short distance above the falls it expands into a 
 broad lake, where regattas can be held and sailing 
 is a safe and agreeable pastime, as it approaches 
 the hidden chasm it becomes parcelled up into 
 innumerable channels and rapids running through 
 boulders and between grassy tufts and islets, and 
 is in many parts fordable in dry weather. A 
 canoe can then take the sightseer with perfect 
 safety to any of the larger islands, and will prob- 
 ably run aground on the way. The two islands 
 most commonly visited, because they are on the 
 lip of the fall, are Cataract Island and Living- 
 stone Island; on the latter, the tree upon which 
 
[147 
 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 149 
 
 the great missionary-traveller cut his initials still 
 exists (although no trace of the inscription sur- 
 vives) and is not by any means dying, as the 
 guide-books say. From either of these islands 
 some of the most awe-inspiring views of the falls 
 can be obtained. 
 
 This breaking-up of the river above the falls, 
 giving it the appearance of pushing its way 
 through a rock-strewn trough or shallow depres- 
 sion in the surrounding jungle, rather than of car- 
 rying islands upon a broad and liquid bosom, is 
 perhaps disappointing to the stranger, and ren- 
 ders it surprising that so relatively moderate a 
 volume of water — ^though more than a mile in 
 width — can produce so amazing a spectacle when 
 it falls. It also explains why the crest of the 
 cataract, instead of being, as at Niagara, a glit- 
 tering sweep of green, curving like some mon- 
 strous billow to the fall, is broken into separate 
 foaming channels, which sometimes swerve asun- 
 der as they leap the edge, and are churned in 
 rocky saucers at the very summit of the cataract, 
 before they take the final plunge. 
 
 But, the edge once passed, the Victoria Falls 
 appeared to me when I saw them in the month of 
 January, to excel in grandeur any spectacle of 
 the same kind in the world. For they possess two 
 incomparable features. In the first place, the 
 cliff-wall down which they are hurled is sheer from 
 top to bottom, 350 feet to 400 feet of perpen- 
 dicular descent, uninterrupted save where in some 
 places gigantic masses of basalt, split off or eroded 
 
150 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 by the same process as has formed the chasm itself, 
 lie at the base and shatter the descending columns 
 into a tempest of foam. Conceive a black wall, as 
 high as Shakespeare's Cliff at Dover, nearly as 
 high as the Cross of St. Paul's, and more than a 
 mile in length, and over the top of this tremen- 
 dous precipice a continuous cataract of water top- 
 pling down from the sky, save in the three places 
 where larger islands, carrying their growth of 
 jungle right to the edge of the abyss, have pro- 
 tected a section of the cliff, and interposed a 
 gleaming surface of ebon rock between the snowy 
 fleeces of the falls on either side. 
 
 The second feature is more remarkable still. 
 The majority of falls»can only be seen at an angle 
 from the banks of the river below, or from a con- 
 siderable distance, should the river make a bend, 
 or from some convenient artificial stand-point, like 
 the Suspension Bridge at Niagara. But here, at 
 the Zambesi, Nature herself has supphed the most 
 wonderful platform which it is possible to con- 
 ceive, with belvederes or outlook towers built out 
 at convenient points for the spectator to take his 
 view. The formation of the gorge is responsible 
 for this astounding feature. Although the river 
 discharges itself in an almost straight line (unlike 
 the great curve of the Horseshoe Fall at Niagara) 
 into the chasm below, there is only one outlet from 
 this chasm, and that is about three-quarters of the 
 way across from the right or southern bank, where 
 the entire water that has come over the fall forces 
 its way through a single aperture only 100 yards 
 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 151 
 
 wide into the whirlpool known as the Boiling Pot, 
 and commences its zigzag descent through the 45 
 miles of canon towards the sea. 
 
 The consequence is that except at this spot the 
 entire volume of water as it falls is pent up in the 
 chasm, which is seldom more than 150 yards in 
 width, and has to flow from left to right in order 
 to make its way out by the solitary gap. And 
 here comes Nature's unique gift. From left to 
 right or from right to left we can walk along the 
 near side of the chasm from end to end, save at 
 the point of exit, and gaze at the falls immediately 
 opposite, as though we were standing in some 
 showman's panorama, and were looking across an 
 intervening hollow, devised to assist the illusion, 
 at the painted canvas beyond. Only here is no 
 artificial picture, but the living masterpiece of a 
 more than human showman; tangible, because the 
 scud of the spray-storm lashes us in the face; 
 throbbing with movement, because the heaven 
 above and the earth beneath appear to be equally 
 in travail ; audible, because in our ears is the rattle 
 of eternal thunder. 
 
 The main portion of the bank which provides 
 this great natural stage or platform — stretching 
 from the southern end of the falls, where is the 
 Devil's Cataract, to the gap through which the 
 entire river charges into the Boiling Pot — is the 
 well-known Rain Forest. The name is appro- 
 priate as well as picturesque, for the spray from 
 the falls, rising in a stupendous column from the 
 chasm below, falls in an incessant rain-shower on 
 
152 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 this tongue of land — ^three parts tree- jungle and 
 one part grass; a rain so overpowering that it 
 drips in torrents from every branch and leaf, rus- 
 tles in the coarse grass, lies in pools on the ground, 
 and in a very few minutes soaks the sightseer to 
 the skin. 
 
 Along this strip of land, which constitutes the 
 eastern boundary wall of the chasm, and is exactly 
 on a level with the lip of the falls, a pathway has 
 been made through the sodden grass and the drip- 
 ping trees; and from this pathway, at the distance 
 of every 50 to 100 yards, smaller tracks strike out 
 to the vantage points at the edge of the chasm, 
 which I have likened to belvederes. At any one 
 of these bastions a man can walk to the very 
 brink ; immediately opposite him, and so close that 
 he can almost pitch a stone into it, is the descend- 
 ing wall of foam; and from the pit below there 
 leaps up in volleys like small-shot, and with a fury 
 that blinds and stuns, the eternal spray-storm. 
 Sometimes it completely obscures the cataract, 
 only a few hundred feet at the most away, and 
 renders it almost impossible for a man to stand 
 upright. Then, as it drifts with the wind, through 
 the seams are visible the yellow and white crests 
 as they flash along the opposing summit, and the 
 descending squadrons as they pitch into the boom- 
 ing depths below. 
 
 There are many points of view from which we 
 can study the mile-long race of water thundering 
 like a cavalry charge to its doom, and then perish- 
 ing in the clatter of its terrific downfall. We caa 
 
VICTORIA FALLS (RAIN FOREST ON LEFT) 
 
 [153 
 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 155 
 
 cross the gorge by the filigree span of the railway- 
 bridge — an ornament rather than a desecration to 
 the scene — and inspect the farthermost fall close 
 to the northern bank; we can clamber along the 
 thin serrated ridge of rock known as the Knife 
 Edge, which connects the farther bank with a big 
 rocky buttress, clothed from base to summit with 
 forest trees, which here projects like a huge 
 pyramid into the stream, and forms one pillar of 
 the gateway through which the river rushes into 
 the Boiling Pot 400 feet below; or, crossing again 
 to the near bank, we can enter the Rain Forest 
 and scramble out on to the aerial promontory 
 known as Danger Point, where, crouching on a 
 hummock of slippery stones, within a foot of the 
 edge, we can look straight opposite, at what is 
 called the Rainbow Fall. At the season at which 
 I saw it this was by far the most imposing spec- 
 tacle. The spray-storm surges upwards from the 
 bottom of the chasm with a concussion like the 
 firing of machine guns and with a force that takes 
 away the breath. But as the mist-wreaths waver 
 and divide, through the rifts are seen the parallel 
 and interminable files of the cataract, careering 
 to the edge and leaping it in a hurricane of foam. 
 Here it is that the thunder echoes most loudly 
 from the gloomy caverns of the abyss: here the 
 stinging buffets of the whirlwind lash the face 
 with the most pitiless fury; and here the smoke- 
 clouds, spouting like portentous geyser- jets into 
 the air, scatter aloft, and, dissolving, wreathe the 
 chasm with a perpetual crown. 
 
156 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 The next most imposing view is from Cataract 
 Island. One can stand here on the upper lip of 
 the fall and look down the whole length of the 
 prodigious trench or fissure into which it plunges. 
 The bottom is only dimly visible through the 
 watery whirlwind, but now and again amid the 
 swirl can be seen the sullen and foam-flecked sur- 
 face of the river in the pool. From the jagged 
 rocks at the bottom the foam spurts upwards with 
 a rush like a thousand maroons, and the detona- 
 tion claps from crag to crag as though concealed 
 forces were firing volleys at each other from em- 
 placements in the confronting cliffs. The phe- 
 nomenon of the rising spray-storm is best studied 
 from this point. For we can see, as the water 
 splinters on the rocks or plunges into the pool at 
 the bottom, how in ordinary circumstances it 
 would explode outwards and spend its force in the 
 open. Here, however, before it can do this the 
 spray is beaten back by the opposite cliff, and is 
 caught as it falls by the blasts of displaced air, 
 and whirled aloft in a hurricane of sleet. As this 
 shoots upward it impinges on the sides and sum- 
 mit of the cliff, and streams down in innumerable 
 minor cascades, destined to meet with the same 
 fate again and again, as they are snatched up in 
 the eddies of the revolving tempest and are swept 
 once more into the air. No waterfall in the world 
 can show any spectacle — ^though it is sound as well 
 as sight — ^to compare with this. 
 
 At one place on the farther or northern bank 
 we can descend by a rocky path to the bottom of 
 
VICTORIA FALLS, MOUTH OF GORGE 
 
 [157 
 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 159 
 
 the gorge, and, passing through the exquisite 
 jungle known as the Palm Grove, where the 
 fronds of the overhanging trees drip with an ever- 
 lasting shower, can reach the level of the river, at 
 the point where it forms the backwash of the Boil- 
 ing Pot. This is not to be compared with the 
 rapids or with the vast circular basin known as 
 the Whirlpool at Niagara, for the torrent, as I 
 saw it, showed no great violence, and the space is 
 confined. A swimmer might have trouble in the 
 eddies of the backwash, but there is no reason 
 why he should be drowned. In fact, the Zambesi 
 rapids are not at any point in the canon to be com- 
 pared with those of Niagara, which battered the 
 life out of Matthew Webb, and through which 
 idiotic couples, tied up in padded mattresses in- 
 side a cask, have sometimes won an inglorious way 
 to lucre and an undeserved respite from the grave. 
 
 The zigzags of the Zambesi Canon — again a 
 result of the astounding geological formation — 
 are an unparalleled feature, and it is possible at 
 more than one spot, to stand on a ridge where on 
 one side the river hundreds of feet below is rush- 
 ing madly to the right, and on the other is cours- 
 ing equally furiously to the left. But neither in 
 the volume of water, in the mountainous billows 
 thrown up by the rapids, nor in the breadth and 
 tumult of the current can the Zambesi below the 
 cataract be compared with Niagara. 
 
 In scenery, the surroundings of the Victoria 
 Falls greatly surpass their American rival. For 
 every pinnacle and rocky buttress is ^clothed from 
 
160 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 top to bottom, at least in the rainy season, with a 
 clustering forest-growth; and the contrast of the 
 white storm of the cataract and the gloomy swirl 
 of the torrent with the brilliant green of the ver- 
 dure amid which it pursues its course, is a fascina- 
 tion that never palls. But here again, though we 
 are in the tropics, the vegetation, with rare excep- 
 tions, has none of the exuberance which those who 
 know Asia associate with the term; and the sur- 
 roundings of the Indian waterfalls immensely ex- 
 ceed in natural beauty anything that the Zambesi 
 can show. 
 
 Thus we arrive at the conclusion that, while in 
 secondary features the Zambesi Fall may yield to 
 some of its competitors in other cHmes, in all those 
 attributes which concern the fall itself, and are of 
 primary value, it is pre-eminent, and may deserv- 
 edly be called the greatest river-wonder in the 
 world. Never can there fade from the mind of 
 one who has seen it the vision of those towers of 
 descending foam, the shouting face of the cataract, 
 the thunder of the watery phalanxes as they 
 charge and reel and are shattered in the bottom 
 of the abyss, or the spray-spumes whizzing up- 
 wards like a battery of rockets into the air. As 
 the train plunges slowly into the forest and takes 
 us back into the every-day world, the mist-clouds 
 steaming like smoke through the trees and form- 
 ing a dense white canopy 1000 feet in height in 
 the sky, and the low thunder, whose reverbera- 
 tions still fill the air, conclude a unique experience 
 and crown an imperishable memory. 
 
Five 
 
 THE GREAT WATERFALLS OF 
 THE WORLD 
 
Five 
 
 THE GREAT WATERFALLS OF THE 
 WORLD 
 
 The sounding cataract 
 Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock^ 
 The mountain^ and the deep and gloomy wood. 
 
 Wordsworth^ " Tintern Abbey." 
 
 IN the preceding chapter I have incidentally 
 mentioned some of the great waterfalls of the 
 world, other than those of the Zambesi, which I 
 there described. I append a few words here about 
 their features and dimensions, and may add that 
 I know of no place where the same information, 
 which is the result of a good deal of research, can 
 be found collected. 
 
 North America 
 
 Niagara^ of which I refrain from adding one 
 more to the countless descriptions by much more 
 gifted pens, was the first of the great falls that 
 was known to the white man. It was first re- 
 ported by Samuel Champlain in 1613, and first 
 seen by Father Hennepin in 1677. But so dazed 
 was he by the sight, or so prone to exaggeration, 
 that in the first edition of his book (1683) he made 
 the height 500 feet, and in the second edition 
 (1697) 600 feet. The actual dimensions are: Ca- 
 
 163 
 
164 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 nadian Fall, 158 feet, American Fall, 162-169 
 feet. 
 
 The Grand Falls of Labrador, which are on the 
 Grand or Hamilton River, were discovered in 
 1839 by John McLean. A mile above the falls 
 the river is 400 yards wide; but it then contracts 
 as it passes through a series of rapids until at the 
 escarpment it is only 50 yards in width. The 
 sheer fall is 316 feet in depth, and the roar is 
 heard at a distance of 20 miles. Immediately 
 below the falls the river turns sharply to the 
 south-east and rushes through a canon 25 miles 
 long, the cliffs of which are 400 feet high. The 
 Indian name for the falls is Pat-ses-Che-wan, ix,, 
 " The narrow place where the water falls." These 
 falls, which are of great splendour, have, owing 
 to the difficulty of access, been seen by but few 
 Europeans. 
 
 The Yosemite Falls, — It is not necessary to do 
 more than allude here to these famous Calif ornian 
 Falls (a description of which will be found in 
 my second volume), since they are so well known 
 and have been visited by so many thousands of 
 persons. Their surroundings, in which every 
 grace of beauty is combined with every element 
 of grandeur, make them perhaps the most ex- 
 quisite of all the world waterfalls, although 
 in volume and awe-inspiring quality they are not 
 to be compared with the great river falls that I 
 have elsewhere described. They were only dis- 
 covered by white men as recently as 1850. The 
 triple Yosemite Fall consists of three cascades, re- 
 
KAIETBUR FALLS IN DEY SEASON 
 
 [165 
 
GREAT WATERFALLS 167 
 
 spectively 1600, 634, and 400 feet high, or a total 
 of 2634 feet. The Vernal Falls are 400 feet. The 
 Nevada Fall is 640 feet. The beautiful Bridal 
 Veil, so often photographed against its background 
 of ebon rock, is 900 feet. These falls, however, 
 being fed by no great volume of water, except 
 after heavy rain, are as a rule more beautiful than 
 imposing, their height and volume being both 
 dwarfed by their stupendous setting. 
 
 I have not included in this list the Falls of the 
 Yellowstone River in the Yellowstone Park, which 
 I have also seen, because they are much less re- 
 markable than the gorge in which they are set, 
 and are barely entitled to be included among the 
 great waterfalls of the world. 
 
 South America 
 
 In this Continent, vrith its mighty rivers, its 
 amazing scenery, and its still only half -revealed 
 secrets, are to be foimd unquestionably the most 
 remarkable series of waterfalls in the world. The 
 majority of them are quite unknown in Europe, 
 and are only slowly finding their way into geo- 
 graphical writings. Were they more accessible 
 they would attract admiring pilgrims from all 
 parts of the globe. 
 
 Kaietuk (commonly known as Kaieteur)^. — 
 This, which is perhaps the most symmetrical and 
 perfect of all the single falls, is to be found in 
 British territory. It is on the Potaro River, a 
 confluence of the Essequibo in British Guiana. It 
 
168 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 was quite unknown until discovered in 1870 by C. 
 Barrington Brown, Government Surveyor in that 
 colony/ The name in the Indian dialect signifies 
 Old Man Rock {tuk = rock), the story being that 
 a venerable Indian, who had become a nuisance 
 to his neighbours, was put into a bark-canoe and 
 shot over the fall, which his spirit was supposed 
 henceforward to haunt. 
 
 The river Potaro, flowing through tropical veg- 
 etation, is from 350 to 400 feet in width, and 20 
 feet in depth in flood times, when it reaches the 
 top of the chasm. Running at the rate of four 
 miles an hour it precipitates itself in a sheer de- 
 scent of 740 feet between rocky cliffs into the vast 
 cauldron below; 500 cubic feet of water have been 
 computed to plunge every minute into the depths. 
 Behind the falls is an immense cavern in the cliff, 
 into which myriads of black swallows continuously 
 flash through the spray. The falls are believed 
 once to have been much higher, the rock being of 
 a soft and friable description. Correspondingly 
 the gulf below is being gradually deepened. Some 
 day regular expeditions will be organised from 
 George Town to see this marvel, which, in the 
 features before referred to, is, in my opinion, 
 unique. 
 
 Roraima and Kukenam. — Far inland on the bor- 
 ders of the same British colony, where the frontiers 
 of British Guiana, Brazil and Venezuela meet, are 
 the two mountain wonders of Roraima and Ku- 
 
 1 Camoe and Gamp Life in British Ouiama, pp. 203-5, 212-23. 
 London, 1876. 
 
GREAT WATERFALLS 169 
 
 kenam. Side by side, separated only by a deep 
 and wooded gorge, these two great natural fort- 
 resses rear their mighty bastions to a sheer height 
 of from 1500 to 2000 feet from the forests and 
 savannahs of the lower slopes, while their level 
 summits are commonly enshrouded in roUing mists. 
 In shape not unlike Cape Mountain, but more than 
 double the height — since Kukenam is 7856 feet, 
 and Roraima 8625 feet high — and each from 10 to 
 12 miles in length, they are by far the most re- 
 markable natural fortresses in the world. It is 
 the water collected in pools and lakes on the rocky 
 and boulder-strewn summits which, after rain, spills 
 over the edge and drops for a sheer 1500 feet into 
 the forest below, producing the waterfalls and cas- 
 cades, with which the names of Roraima and 
 Kukenam are linked. They are visible when in 
 spate for an immense distance, hanging like snowy 
 fleeces against the background of rose-red rock 
 over which they plunge. When Tennyson, in find- 
 ing a site for his Palace of Art, wrote: 
 
 A huge crag-platform, smooth as burnished brass 
 
 I chose. The ranged ramparts bright 
 From level meadow-bases of deep grass 
 Suddenly scaled the light. 
 
 From those four jets four currents in one swell 
 
 Across the mountain streamed below 
 In misty folds, that floating as they fell 
 Lit up a torrent-bow. 
 
 it might well have been of Kukenam and Roraima 
 that he sang. 
 
17a TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Over three hundred years ago Sir Walter 
 Raleigh must have heard both of Roraima and of 
 its waterfalls, when he wrote: 
 
 I was informed of the moimtain of Christall, to which 
 in trueth for the length of the way, and the evil season 
 of the yeare, I was not able to march nor abide any 
 longer upon the journey; we saw it a farre off, and it 
 appeared like a white Churche towre of an exceeding 
 height. There f alleth over it a mightie river which touch- 
 eth no part of the side of the mountaine, but rusheth 
 over the top of it, and falleth to the grounde with a 
 terrible noyse and clamor, as if 1000 great belles were 
 knockt one against another. I think there is not in the 
 world so strange an overfall, nor so wonderfull to be- 
 holde; Berreo told me it hath diamondes and other 
 precious stones on it, and that they shined very farre off ; 
 but what it hath, I knowe not, neither durst he nor any 
 of his men ascende to the toppe of the saide mountaine, 
 those people adjoyning being his enemies, and the way 
 to it is so impassible.-"^ 
 
 Sir Robert SchomburgK saw Roraima as far 
 back as 1838 and 1842, but did not come close to 
 either mountain. C. Barrington Brown, the sur- 
 veyor, whom I have already mentioned, when ex- 
 ploring on the Upper Mazaruni River in 1870, 
 saw from a distance of 38 miles an enormous 
 waterfall leaping from the north-east face of 
 Roraima, and described it as the highest waterfall 
 in the world. This was the fall seen by J. W. 
 
 ^Discovery of Qma/na (Hakluyt Society), 1848, p. 101. 
 
KAIETEUR FALLS IN FLOOD 
 
 [171 
 
GREAT WATERFALLS 173 
 
 Boddam-Whetham in 1878, and thus described by 
 him: 
 
 Towards the northern end of the mountain, a mag- 
 nificent cascade, whose lip seemed to be below the sum- 
 mit, sprang in a broad silvery arch right down into the 
 green depths, barely touching the rocky wall in its de- 
 scent/ 
 
 Both of these travellers, and others after them, 
 who visited the spot, declared Roraima to be un- 
 scalable, and serious writers speculated upon the 
 unknown fauna — survivals of a prehistoric era — 
 that might be found on the summit. Upon this 
 foundation Conan Doyle built one of his most 
 imaginative stories.^ It was reserved for Sir 
 Everard im Thurn, who was determined to pene- 
 trate the mystery, in company with H. I. Perkins, 
 to discover a sloping ledge by which it is possible 
 alternately to creep and chmb up the south-west 
 wall of Roraima; and along this ledge subsequent 
 explorers, including one lady,^ have mounted to 
 the plateau at the top. 
 
 I can recall no more exciting moment in the 
 history of travel than when, on the morning of 
 December 18, 1884, im Thurn, having scaled the 
 crag-wall, peered over the broken edge, and looked, 
 for the first time, so far as is known in the history 
 of man, upon the summit of Roraima. A wilder- 
 
 1 Roraima amd British Chiiana, p. 228. London, 1879. 
 
 2 The Lost World. London, 1912. 
 
 3 Mrs. Cecil Clementi, Through British Guia/na to the 8ummit of 
 Roraima. London, 1920. 
 
174 ,TALES OF TRAVEE 
 
 ness of uncouth boulders and pinnacles and jum- 
 bled cliffs met his eye — interspersed with water- 
 holes and pools and tarns, the feeding-ground of 
 the far-seen cascades. Two of these falls he es- 
 pecially noticed, that on the southern face of 
 Roraima, over 1000 feet high, which feeds the 
 Kamaiun River, and that on the opposite face of 
 Kukenam, 1300 feet in height, which is the source 
 of the Kukenam River. 
 
 I have dwelt at some length on the Falls of 
 Roraima and Kukenam, partly because of their 
 strange and fantastic surroundings, partly because, 
 although not permanent river falls in the ordinary 
 sense of the term, the catchment area being far 
 too small, they are yet, when in flow, in all prob- 
 ability the highest uninterrupted falls in the world, 
 and, owing to the rains and mists which continually 
 envelop the summit of the two mountains like a 
 cap, are almost invariably in action. I would 
 sooner myself see Roraima and Kukenam, with 
 these white banners hung against their crimson 
 ramparts, than almost any natural spectacle in 
 the world. 
 
 The Ghmyra Falls on the Parana in Brazil are 
 not really a waterfall, but are an amazing series 
 of cataracts, the finest in the South American Con- 
 tinent. 
 
 The Tequendama Falls on the Bogota or Funza 
 River in Ecuador, only 17 miles from the capital 
 city of Bogota, are situated in lovely scenery, an 
 amphitheatre of forest-clad hills sloping to the 
 edge of a rock-walled gorge. Above the escarp- 
 
[175 
 
GREAT WATERFALLS 177 
 
 ment the river contracts to a width of 20-30 yards, 
 and the sheer fall is 443 feet (Humboldt miscal- 
 culated it at 574 feet) . Owing to the small volume 
 of water in the river this fall is to be classed with 
 Gersoppa in South India rather than with its 
 greater rivals. 
 
 The Iguasu Falls, on the Argentine-Brazilian 
 border, are on the Curutiba River, an eastern 
 affluent of the great Parana River, and in their 
 contour and dimensions somewhat resemble Niag- 
 ara, being 50 feet higher and 1250 feet broader 
 than the latter. The scenery and vegetation are, 
 however, far more beautiful. The river is nearly 
 two miles wide at some distance above the falls, 
 but contracts to a total width of 1365 yards before 
 it takes the plunge, which is 170 feet in depth. 
 The fall is divided by rocky pinnacles and islands 
 into three sections, the Brazilian Fall, 2000 feet 
 wide, in shape resembling a horse-shoe (like the 
 Canadian Fall of Niagara), the Insular Fall, and 
 the Argentine Fall, which is a double fall of 189 
 feet, and is 1200 feet in width. Much of the river, 
 as it falls, spills on to lower ledges of rock, throw- 
 ing up immense clouds of spray and producing a 
 reverberation which is heard for miles. A column, 
 as it were of white smoke, floats eternally above 
 the war of waters; and the mise en scene is equal, 
 if not superior to, that of any other great fall. 
 Below the falls the river is pent between narrow 
 cliffs of rock which are not more than 400 feet 
 apart. The whole is framed in the most luxuriant 
 tropical vegetation. 
 
178 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Laja River Falls in Chile. — This river is the 
 main branch of the Rio Bobbio, which debouches 
 into the Pacific near Concepcion. The falls, like 
 those of Niagara, are twofold, being separated by 
 a rocky and wooded island which descends to the 
 level of the pool. But they are of inferior altitude, 
 being only 106 feet high. 
 
 Africa 
 
 The Great Falls of Aughrabies on the Orange 
 River, situated 80 miles from the town of Uping- 
 ton, were discovered by George Thompson in 1824. 
 These are the most unapproachable and the least 
 beautiful of all the great falls of the world, be- 
 ing situated in a country destitute of all vegeta- 
 tion or indeed of any sign of life. The Orange 
 River, which is a mile wide some distance above 
 the main fall, is then split up into a number of 
 channels by boulder-strewn granitic islands and 
 masses of rock, until it is barely 60 feet wide at 
 the lip of the main fall, which plunges for a sheer 
 400 feet into a sullen abyss. Thence for many 
 miles it races through a gloomy and inaccessible 
 canon, the walls of which are nearly 500 feet high, 
 emerging later on near the border of what was 
 formerly German South- West Africa. Meanwhile 
 many other cascades drop laterally into the gorge, 
 which presents a spectacle of gigantic buttresses, 
 sheer precipices, and appalling desolation. • When 
 the river is in flood the torrent overlaps the chute 
 and becomes a raging cataract, sweeping every- 
 
THE GERSOPPA FALLS 
 
 [179 
 
GREAT WATERFALLS 181 
 
 thing before it. In this condition it is unapproach- 
 able, and has never been seen by any white man. 
 Though far from remote it is for the above reasons 
 the least known, and perhaps the least visited of 
 all the great falls of the world. 
 
 India 
 
 Gersoppa or Gairseppa Falls (also known as 
 Jog) . — These are situated on the river Sharavati, 
 which divides the Bombay Presidency from the 
 Native State of Mysore, and are 35 miles distant 
 by road from the small seaport of Honavar, itself 
 350 miles south of Bombay. During the monsoon, 
 i.e., in June, July, and August, when the river is 
 in flood, the falls are so swathed in mist as to be 
 invisible, and nothing is heard but the thunder 
 booming up from the abyss. In winter, however, 
 which was the season of my visit (November 1900) , 
 the channel above the falls is not more than 80 
 yards in width, and can be crossed by light bridges 
 thrown from island to island. The great beauty 
 of the falls, which are four in number, the Raja 
 or main fall on the right bank, the Roarer, the 
 Rocket (so-called because it spurts in a series of 
 jets), and La Dame Blanche (a white sheet of 
 foam), consists in the depth of the fall, which is 
 830 feet sheer, the two first-named falls meeting 
 in the course of their descent, and in the exquisite 
 framing of the tropical forest. Owing to the con- 
 figuration of the ground the Gersoppa Falls can 
 also be seen to greater advantage than almost any 
 
182 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 other fall of corresponding height, and are being 
 increasingly visited, mainly, owing to superior 
 facilities of communication, from the Mysore side. 
 The pool at the bottom of the falls, hollowed out 
 by the force of the water, is 132 feet deep. I never 
 remember a more beautiful sight than that of the 
 falls from a terrace seat near the Mysore Rest 
 House. Would I might sit there once again. 
 
 Falls of the Cauvery, — I also saw the Falls of 
 the Cauvery at Sivasamudram (on the boundary 
 between Madras and Mysore), which are dis- 
 charged over a chff 250 feet high, in a series of 
 separate cascades of great size and volume. The 
 two main falls are called respectively, in the native 
 language, the Sky Spray and the Heavy Spray, 
 and they vary at diflPerent seasons of the year from 
 a roaring cataract to a vertical plunge. The water 
 power thus generated has been harnessed for the 
 service of man; and a little way down the stream 
 on the left bank is the great station which trans- 
 mits the power to the goldfields of Kolar, 90 miles 
 distant, and to the cities of Bangalore and Mysore. 
 
 New Zealand 
 
 Few persons have seen the Sutherland Falls on 
 the south-west coast of the Southern Island — so- 
 called from their discoverer, a prospector of that 
 name, who came upon them in the year 1879. The 
 Falls, which are fed by the Arthur River, are sit- 
 uated 16 miles from the head of Melford Sound, 
 one of the great fiords that pierce the coast of the 
 
GREAT WATERFALLS 183 
 
 island. They are three in number, resembhng in 
 this respect the principal Yosemite Fall, the height 
 of the three sections, which plunge over the edge 
 of a vertical cliff into hollow basins or pools, be- 
 ing respectively 815, 751, and 338 feet, or a total 
 of 1904 feet. They are seen to the greatest ad- 
 vantage in summer, when the snows are melting, 
 and, as time passes, will be more and more recog- 
 nised as one of the wonders of the southern hemi- 
 sphere. 
 
 My catalogue, thus completed, may turn out not 
 to be exhaustive, since from time to time rumours 
 are heard, usually in the still unexplored parts of 
 South America, of great waterfalls known only 
 to the natives and unseen by the white man. In 
 due time every one of them will be discovered, and 
 some later generation will more accurately tabu- 
 late their characteristics and virtues. 
 
Six 
 LEST WE FORGET " 
 
 I 
 
Six 
 "LEST WE FORGET" 
 
 There is nothing new except what is forgotten. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 I 
 
 The Death-bed of Sir Henry Lawrence 
 
 ONE of the most remarkable phenomena in life 
 is the carelessness with which people observe, 
 or rather fail to observe, that which is daily and 
 even hourly under their eyes, either paying no 
 attention to it because it is so familiar, or failing 
 to inquire from sheer lack of interest or curiosity. 
 Of the millions of persons who pass in the year 
 through Trafalgar Square, how many could tell 
 you the number or identity of the bronze heroes 
 who adorn or disfigure its open spaces? Not even 
 the fact that he is riding without stirrups probably 
 induces more than one passer-by in ten thousand 
 to inquire who is the Royal horseman on a pedestal 
 in the top left-hand corner. How many people 
 who daily drive or ride past the nude Achilles in 
 Hyde Park take the trouble to inquire how he 
 came there or what he represents? Take an even 
 stronger case. There are London streets which 
 some of us traverse every day of our lives for 
 years. If we were suddenly challenged to name 
 either the order in which the shops occur for a 
 
 187 
 
188 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 distance of 100 yards on the side of the street 
 which we affect, or still more the names, is there 
 one in a hundred of us who could survive the 
 ordeal? Familiarity breeds not merely contempt, 
 but in the case of ordinary objects, or objects which 
 we encounter every day, complete forgetfulness if 
 we have ever known, complete indifference if we 
 have not. 
 
 In the course of my travels I have come across 
 two cases of this indifference or forgetfulness, in 
 circumstances where the very reverse might have 
 been expected by every law of probability, so as- 
 tonishing that it would have been impossible to 
 believe them had they not actually occurred. In 
 both cases I was the accidental means of detect- 
 ing the lapse; and I owed the discovery to the 
 habit which I have pursued in every one of my 
 travels, and which I believe to be the secret of 
 accurate observation — ^namely of acquainting one- 
 self, so far as possible, with the facts of a case 
 or the features of a scene before coming in con- 
 tact with it. In this way you know what to ex- 
 pect that you will find. But you are also in a 
 position to note what is wanting either in the nar- 
 ratives of your predecessors or in the situation 
 itself. 
 
 In December 1899 I paid my first official visit, 
 as Viceroy of India, to Lucknow, and among my 
 earliest proceedings was an inspection of the crum- 
 bling ruins and consecrated grounds of the Resi- 
 dency. They bear but slight resemblance now to 
 the aspect they wore at the date of the famous 
 
" LEST WE FORGET " 189 
 
 siege; for time and loving care have passed the 
 tender fingers of obhvion over the scars, and have 
 converted a heap of debris into an exquisite garden, 
 from which emerge a few battered walls and skel- 
 etons of buildings, embowered amid the luxuriant 
 verdure. 
 
 But the interest lies in them rather than in the 
 pleasaunce, and any Englishman, at all familiar 
 with the history of the Mutiny or the incidents of 
 the siege, wanders eagerly from ruined building 
 to building, or where they exist, from one shattered 
 apartment to another, seeking to identify the actual 
 scenes of so much suffering and so much glory. 
 
 So familiar was I from previous reading with 
 the incidents of the siege that I had no difficulty 
 in moving from site to site and identifying the 
 localities, in so far as they survive. After in- 
 specting the Residency, I was conducted into an 
 adjoining and semi-ruined building. On the bat- 
 tered wall inside a great open verandah I saw a 
 white marble tablet fixed, which contained this in- 
 scription: 
 
 Here Sir H. Lawrence died 
 4th July 1857 
 
 "With all respect," I said at once, "here Sir 
 Henry Lawrence did not die." " But how," was 
 the natural retort, " can that be? This inscrip- 
 tion has been on the wall for fifty years — ever 
 since the Residency was consecrated as a national 
 memorial at the end of the Mutiny. Thousands 
 
190 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 of persons who fought in the Mutiny have passed 
 through the building since. Hundreds who were 
 in the Residency at the time of the siege, and at 
 the moment of Sir Henry's death, have visited the 
 verandah. All of them have seen that tablet on 
 the wall. Not one has ever questioned its accuracy. 
 Can it have been reserved for you in the year 1899 
 to correct an error that must have existed for half 
 a century and to show that every one has hitherto 
 been wrong? " " Yes," I said, " indeed it has, and 
 I will ask leave to take the party to the inner 
 room in which Sir Henry Lawrence actually did 
 die." 
 
 I then passed through the verandah to the inner 
 room or drawing-room of Sir Joseph Fayrer's 
 house (the building in question), and remarked 
 that that was the spot where Sir Henry Lawrence 
 had breathed his last. There was still general in- 
 credulity as to my statement; whereupon, remem- 
 bering that Sir Joseph Fayrer, who had tended 
 Lawrence in his last hours, was still hving at the 
 age of seventy-four in England, I suggested that 
 a plan of the house and its apartments should be 
 sent to him, without any mention of the dispute 
 that had arisen, and that he should be asked to 
 mark upon it the room and the spot where the 
 hero's spirit had fled. 
 
 After a time came back the plan with Fayrer's 
 mark on the apartment and upon the place which 
 I had indicated. The mendacious tablet was in 
 due course removed and transferred to the correct 
 
" LEST WE FORGET " 193 
 
 site, where it may be seen in the accompanying 
 photograph. 
 
 In the following year came out Sir Joseph 
 Fayrer's book : ^ and in it were printed, not merely 
 the details of Lawrence's last hours, but a copy 
 of Lieut. Moorsom's plan of the Residency build- 
 ings, made in 1857 (p. 130), and a plan (whether 
 stimulated by my inquiry or not I do not know) 
 of Dr. Fayrer's own house (p. 132). 
 
 From these it will be seen that the injured man, 
 mortally wounded by a shell on July 2, 1857, while 
 lying on a couch in an upper room in the Resi- 
 dency, had been carried over and laid down on a 
 bed in the open verandah of Dr. Fayrer's house, 
 whence after a time, owing to the severity of the 
 fire, he was moved into the inner room or draw- 
 ing-room where at 8 a.m. on the morning of July 4 
 he expired. 
 
 Apart from the interest of historical accuracy, 
 I do not know that any vital importance attaches 
 to the question whether even a great man and a 
 hero breathed his last in this or that exact spot. 
 But I have never ceased to be amazed at the heed- 
 lessness which for fifty years had permitted a 
 stream of visitors, some of them eyewitnesses of the 
 tragedy, and many of them intimately acquainted 
 with every detail and incident of the siege, to pass 
 by, without detecting or correcting the error. 
 
 ^ Recollections of my Life, London, 1900. An earlier letter from 
 Dr. Fayrer to Colonel Wilson, dated December 23, 1864, giving the 
 particulars of Sir H. Lawrence's last hours when they were still fresh 
 in the Doctor's memory, is printed in the Life of Sir H. Lawrence, by 
 Sir H. Edwardes and H. Merivale, vol. ii. 373-7, London, 1872. 
 
II 
 
 The Billiard Table of Napoleon 
 
 MY second experience was at St. Helena in 
 1908. During a compulsory stay of a fort- 
 night at Grand Canary and the subsequent long 
 sea voyage to St. Helena, I had made a careful 
 study of every available work about the Emperor's 
 residence in that island (having indeed provided 
 myself with a miniature library for the purpose), 
 and when I arrived at Longwood, the scene of his 
 five years' exile and ultimate death, I was as 
 familiar with the identity and history of every room 
 in the building, as though I had lived in it myself. 
 My knowledge was soon put to an unexpected 
 test. As I entered the house I found the French 
 Consul, who, as representative of the French Gov- 
 ernment, was living at New Longwood (the prop- 
 erty having been handed over by the British Gov- 
 ernment to Napoleon III. in 1858), about to con- 
 duct a party of French visitors round the building. 
 In the entrance room, upon the walls of which 
 hung a board inscribed " Salle d'Attente," he was 
 expatiating upon the uses to which this apartment 
 had been put in the time of the Emperor. " This," 
 he said, "was the reception room where His 
 Majesty received his guests." " Excuse me," said 
 I, "this was, at any rate in the first few years 
 
 194 
 
Liyo 
 
" LEST WE FORGET " 197 
 
 of the Emperor's residence, the biUiard room: it 
 was always known and described as such; in it 
 stood the bilhard table on which he used to knock 
 about the balls either with a mace or with his hands, 
 but which, after he became tired of the game, he 
 had removed." The Consul had never heard of 
 the table or of the Emperor's amusement upon it; 
 but observing that I seemed to have a greater ac- 
 quaintance with the contents of the house than 
 himself, he very courteously asked me to take the 
 company round, which I proceeded to do, explain- 
 ing with sufficient fulness the purpose to which 
 each apartment had been put, and the furniture 
 which it had contained. Thus I acted as guide in 
 a house which I had never previously seen. The 
 Consul, with much good humour, offered to vacate 
 his post permanently in my favour. 
 
 The billiard room of Napoleon, which was orig- 
 inally built on to the house by Admiral Sir George 
 Cockburn in 1815, when he reconstructed Long- 
 wood for the accommodation of the Emperor, is 
 the largest room in the building, being 26 feet 
 6 inches long, 17 feet 6 inches broad, and 12 feet 
 4 inches high — and having as many as five win- 
 dows. It is built of wood, and the inner walls 
 are painted a dark green, through which in some 
 cases could be seen the names that had been cut 
 by earlier visitors. Here a billiard table had been 
 placed by Sir Hudson Lowe in July 1816 for the 
 delectation of the illustrious inmate; and here in 
 the early days he used to play with his staff, and 
 to knock the balls about with the young lady from 
 
198 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 the Briars (daughter of the English purveyor of 
 Longwood), Miss Ehzabeth Balcombe, afterwards 
 Mrs. Abell, whom the Emperor used to call Mile. 
 Betsee and the French writers to describe as Miss 
 Betzi. In the later editions of her vivacious work,^ 
 which were ampler than the first/ Mrs. Abell thus 
 recalled the experiences of her youth: 
 
 Billiards was a game much played by Napoleon and 
 his suite. I had the honour of being instructed in its 
 mysteries by him ; but when tired of my lesson, my amuse- 
 ment consisted in aiming the balls at his fingers, and I 
 was never more pleased than when I succeeded in making 
 him cry out. 
 
 And again: 
 
 I caught sight of the Emperor in his favourite billiard 
 room and, not being able to insist on having a game 
 with him, I bounded off, leaving my father in dismay 
 at the consequences likely to ensue. Instead of my an- 
 ticipated game, I was requested to read a book by Dr. 
 Warden, Surgeon of the Northvmberlcmd, that had just 
 come out. 
 
 Later on, when Napoleon used this room for 
 working, he would spread his maps and plans upon 
 the billiard table. Finally he asked to have it re- 
 moved altogether; and from that date to the time 
 of my visit it had disappeared from view, no book 
 about the furniture and equipment of the exile 
 
 1 Recollections of the Emperor Napoleon, by Mrs. Abell, London 
 1873, pp. 176-7. 
 ^Ihid. 
 
INTERIOR OF NAPOLEON'S BILLIARD ROOM 
 
 [199 
 
"LEST WE FORGET" 201 
 
 (of which there are many) having succeeded in 
 tracing it. 
 
 Later on I went to lunch with the Governor 
 at Plantation House, so famous as the residence 
 of Sir Hudson Lowe. It is a very pleasant and 
 solidly built structure of the English middle-sized 
 country-house type, erected in the early nineteenth 
 century, and containing some good-sized rooms. I 
 asked to see any furniture that might have belonged 
 to Napoleon, and learned that the only pieces were 
 a big English-made mahogany book-case from Old 
 Longwood, a mirror, and a third piece from New 
 Longwood, which the Emperor had of course 
 neither ever seen nor used. 
 
 In an unused room, however, at the back of the 
 house, my eye fell upon an English billiard table 
 of a rather remarkable type. It had six legs in- 
 stead of eight, and its dimensions were 11 feet 4 
 inches by 6 feet 1 inch, and there was an inlaid 
 pattern of ivory and some coloured wood round the 
 edge. I asked if there was any history attached 
 to it and was informed that there was none. 
 
 " That," I said at once, " must be the billiard 
 table of Napoleon. How can it be any other? 
 Would the British Government ever have provided 
 so ornamental a table for one of its own servants? 
 When Napoleon turned out the table from the en- 
 trance room at Longwood what became of it? 
 Manifestly it reverted to the possession of the Gov- 
 ernment. What then would Sir Hudson Lowe do 
 with it? The obvious course was to move it to 
 his own house, where it has remained ever since, 
 
202 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 being too big and too heavy to part with and too 
 interesting to sell." 
 
 This chain of reasoning seemed to have a good 
 deal to be said in its favour, until my attention 
 was called to the disconcerting fact that there was 
 a very fresh-looking ivory tablet on the side of the 
 table, containing the well-known name of " Thurs- 
 ton & Co., London." Refusing to be convinced, 
 I suggested that an explanation should be sought 
 from that firm of their connection with what I still 
 persisted in regarding as this historic piece of fur- 
 niture. 
 
 A few months later my humble essay in induc- 
 tive logic was justified; for I heard from the Gov- 
 ernor that in 1898 the table had been thoroughly 
 repaired, when Messrs. Thurston had supplied new 
 cushions and pockets and had affixed their ivory 
 mark. Further inquiry ehcited that the table was 
 no other than Napoleon's, an old inhabitant of the 
 island, still living, having been told so by Mr. 
 Stephen Pritchard, who was a young man in St. 
 Helena during Napoleon's exile. The tradition, 
 however, seems to have died out at a comparatively 
 early date, as the table fell into a state of disrepair. 
 Indeed, one Governor was proved to have used it 
 at first as a carpenter's bench, and later as a screen 
 across a door leading into the back-yard! 
 
 On a closer examination the bed of the table 
 was found to be a marvellous piece of joinery, con- 
 sisting of small pieces of inch-thick oak dove-tailed 
 together like a parquet floor (I suppose that in 
 those days slate was either difficult to procure or 
 
[203 
 
" LEST WE FORGET " 205 
 
 was unknown). The marking board (by Ferny- 
 hough of 36 Silver Street, Gordon Square, Lon- 
 don) still hangs in the room and is certainly the 
 original board belonging to the table, the scoring 
 only showing up to 21, which was the old game 
 when people played with the mace or butt. 
 
 Such was one of the minor discoveries which my 
 visit to St. Helena enabled me to make — perhaps 
 I may tell elsewhere about the others. But I still 
 remain lost in wonder at the nepenthe which for 
 three-quarters of a century had drugged the succes- 
 sive occupants of Plantation House and their in- 
 numerable visitors into complete oblivion of so in- 
 teresting a prize. 
 
Seven 
 THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 
 
Seven 
 THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 
 
 Ostenditque humeros latos, alternaque iactat 
 Bracchia protendens, et verberat ictibus auras. 
 
 Virgil, Aeneid, v. 376. 
 
 AMONG the most fair and fanciful of cities is 
 L Kioto, the ancient seat of the Empire and 
 capital of Japan. For a thousand years it was 
 the cage whose gilded bars immured the unseen 
 but sacred person of the Mikado. Within the 
 bhnd walls of the palace-enclosure the royal 
 faineant dawdled away a linnet-like existence. 
 Outside, the bulk of his people torpidly acquiesced 
 in the rule, however fallible, of a son of the gods. 
 Under the guise of an imperial theocracy, Japan 
 was in reality a playground for the mihtary ad- 
 venturer, and Kioto the focus of court intrigue. 
 A heavy curtain of mystery, the joint weaving of 
 the palace and the priesthood, enveloped the sacred 
 pile, and hermetically concealed it from alien eyes. 
 It was only in the latter part of the last decade 
 that the folds were torn asunder, and that Kioto 
 became accessible to foreigners. The Mikado and 
 his court were moved to Tokio; the castle was dis- 
 mantled; the temple doors were thrown open, and 
 the traveller was at liberty to ransack shrines and 
 secret places and sanctuaries with inquisitive im- 
 punity. 
 
210 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 The town is exquisitely situated in a cup between 
 mountain ranges, quaintly outlined, and clothed 
 with an astonishing wealth of trees. From the 
 eastern range, where the visitor is probably lodged, 
 he will get a wonderful outlook, both at sunrise 
 and at nightfall. In the early dawn the entire 
 city is drowned in a sea of white vapour, from 
 which only the huge hooded roofs of the temples 
 emerge, black and solemn, like the inverted hulls 
 of gigantic ships. Suddenly, across the mist booms 
 the sonorous stroke of some vast temple-bell, and 
 rolls away in melancholy vibrations. At night the 
 dusky mass of houses, stretching for miles, twinkles 
 with the light of a thousand lanterns that glimmer 
 from the lintels and dance along the streets. A 
 swarm of fire-flies would seem to be flitting in the 
 aisles of some dim and sombre forest, from whose 
 recesses float upwards the indescribable hum of 
 congregated humanity, street cries and laughter, 
 the sound of voices, and the tinkling of gui- 
 tars. 
 
 At festival time, and when the matsuris, or re- 
 ligious holidays, are celebrated, Kioto is especially 
 worthy of a visit. The whole town turns out 
 merry-making; the temple precincts are blocked 
 from morn till night by gaily-dressed crowds ; the 
 tea-houses overflow with customers; the singing 
 girls extract rich harvest; and copper pieces rain 
 into the tills of itinerant purveyors of entertain- 
 ment and theatrical shows. One street in partic- 
 ular is ablaze with a succession of gaudily-deco- 
 rated booths, containing acrobats, jugglers, story- 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 211 
 
 tellers, peep-shows, pantomimes, and plays. These 
 are crowded from daybreak to sunset, and a forest 
 of clogs and sandals, suspended on the outer wall, 
 testifies to the thronged condition of the pit within. 
 In the dried-up bed of the river which intersects 
 the town, and which at different periods presents 
 the opposite appearance of a gutter and a torrent, 
 will probably be erected a gigantic booth, sur- 
 rounded with gaudy bannerets flying from lofty 
 poles. A stream of passengers pouring into the 
 entrance shows that some exhibition of interest 
 and popularity is being enacted within. It was in 
 the wake of such a crowd, and on such an occasion, 
 that, at Kioto, I first made acquaintance with the 
 palaestra of Japan. 
 
 We do not require the authority of the bas-reliefs 
 of Thebes and Nineveh, or even of the 32nd chap- 
 ter of Genesis, to learn that wrestling must have 
 been one of the earliest methods of conflict in vogue 
 among ancient peoples. The light of nature must 
 have very soon suggested this mode of encounter 
 between human beings. Weapons may not always 
 have been forthcoming. A duel of blows, i,e,, a 
 boxing match, would involve the victory of the 
 more practised. Whenever two combatants were 
 engaged in a personal struggle, it would be the 
 spontaneous instinct of the one who was placed 
 at a disadvantage, either of implements or of skill, 
 to close with his adversary, and submit to the prac- 
 tical test of bodily agility or strength. In this way 
 would he be most hkely to equalise the handicap 
 of fists, or club, or sword. But here, again, there 
 
212 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 would be an inequality of conditions in favour of 
 the stronger muscles and more seasoned strength, 
 to redress which the study and science of wrestling 
 would come into being. Hence it is not surprising 
 to find that, among the peoples of whose remote 
 history records are preserved, wrestling seems to 
 have been early reduced to a system and practised 
 as an art. 
 
 We are perhaps best acquainted with the types 
 of wrestling in use among the ancient Greeks, 
 and among our own countrymen in the extreme 
 north and west of England; familiar to us, in 
 the one case, from the illustrations on vases and 
 sculptures, in the other from the yearly exhibi- 
 tions of the craft that are given in London. 
 African travellers have also written curious ac- 
 counts of the art as practised among negro tribes. 
 To all these systems Japanese wrestHng offers 
 certain points of resemblance, but to none more 
 closely (though with notable points of diver- 
 gence) than to the ancient Homeric fashion, as 
 described in the famous contest between Ajax 
 and Ulysses in the twenty-third book of the Iliad. 
 The early manner of Greek wrestling was as 
 widely distinct from the later, from the trial of 
 skill described by Plutarch as rexytHcSrarov ual 
 Ttavovpydrarov rcov dSXr^pidtGov ^ as was a cross- 
 bow from a Martini-Henry rifle; and among the 
 many evidences of primitive habit and ancient 
 date supplied by the Homeric poems, the story 
 of the wrestling match might be quoted as a not 
 
 1 Plutarch, Symposium, ii. 4. 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 213 
 
 insignificant item. The art was manifestly as yet 
 in its infancy; there was an ingenuous laxity of 
 rule; the performance was a rough-and-tumble 
 one at the best; and if Ajax and Ulysses had 
 depended for fame on their feats in the palaestra^ 
 the reputation of neither would have long sur- 
 vived. In Japan, a country combining a feverish 
 proficiency in many of the habits of advanced 
 civihsation with uncompromising relics of feudal 
 crystalUsation, we observe a similar innocence of 
 science, and adhesion to archaic tradition, in the 
 ways of the wrestUng ring. 
 
 On the day that I speak of, at Kioto, the con- 
 test annoimced was between the combined repre- 
 sentatives of that city and the neighbouring town 
 of Osaka, and the champions of the modern 
 capital, Tokio. The latter, in spite of the double 
 recruiting ground of their adversaries, achieved 
 an easy victory — a result which was received with 
 extreme despondency by the local partisans, but 
 was fortunately unattended by the scenes of vio- 
 lence that occurred on a famous occasion of a very 
 similar character in our own history, when, on 
 Lammas Day, 1223, the wrestlers of London 
 having paid a visit to those of Westminster, and 
 gained a victory at their expense, the bailiff of 
 Westminster and his myrmidons, whose patriotism 
 was incensed at the local discomfiture, picked a 
 quarrel with the triumphant Londoners, and drove 
 them back with slaughter into the precincts of the 
 city. No such savage reprisals followed the col- 
 lapse of the heroes of Kioto and Osaka on this 
 
214 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 occasion. Only a reproachful silence overhung 
 the piqued and disgusted crowd. 
 
 I must here explain that I am not now writing 
 about Jiu-JitsUj the more familiar form of Japa- 
 nese exercise or wrestling, which is taught as the 
 art of self-defence, but about Sumo, the ancient, 
 traditional, popular, semi-scientific, semi-religious 
 wrestling of Japan; Sumo with its professional 
 schools in that country, its forty-eight chief de- 
 vices (each with eight variations), its guild of 
 carefully-trained, intensively fed, obese prac- 
 titioners, its ritual, half-serious and half -comic, its 
 still unshaken hold, corresponding to the vogue 
 of football in England, upon the populace in 
 Japan. Twelve years ago, long after my Kioto 
 experiences, a troupe of forty of the more emi- 
 nent professors of this art came to England and 
 gave a series of performances at the Japan- 
 British Exhibition at Shepherd's Bush. I saw 
 them there as I had seen their compatriots twenty 
 years earlier in Japan: and the existence and 
 methods of this school struck me on both occa- 
 sions as one of the most curious survivals in that 
 country, where the traditional and the up-to-date 
 are so strangely interwoven. 
 
 In 1863 Sir Rutherford Alcock wrote: 
 
 Wrestling is to the Japanese what the ring is to us 
 and something specially national. Every prince has a 
 whole group of wrestlers, and their pride is to have the 
 biggest, heaviest, and fattest ; so that they generally look 
 as bloated, overfed, and disgusting as prize oxen for the 
 butcher at Christmas. I am at a loss to understand how 
 
JAPANESE WRESTLERS 
 
 [215 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 217 
 
 such men of flesh and fat can put on any great strength 
 — they grapple very fiercely but seldom seem to throw 
 each other. 
 
 Since those days Japanese wrestling has expe- 
 rienced much the same transition as overtook its 
 counterpart, once practised by kings and nobles 
 in England (Henry VIII. was quite a good 
 wrestler, and a century and a half later Mon- 
 mouth courted popularity by occasionally indulg- 
 ing in a bout in rustic sports) when in the grow- 
 ing disrepute of feudalism, it passed from the 
 mansions of the great to the village green and the 
 fairs and festivals of the people. Similarly in 
 Japan, when the old order was broken up by the 
 revolution, and the castles, retinues, and princely 
 maintenance of the nobility became a thing of the 
 past, wrestling lost its hold upon the titled classes 
 and became the sport of the crowd. But even so, 
 it retains a quasi-hieratic prestige, because of its 
 connection with the celebrated Ekoin Temple at 
 Tokio, the strict etiquette and observances of the 
 guild, and the popularity attaching to its prin- 
 cipal practitioners, who are regarded in Japan 
 with almost as much reverence as a great bull 
 fighter at Seville or Madrid. 
 
 To an outsider, unversed in the esoteric rules 
 of the art, the performance is apt to appear more 
 comic than serious — and I found the greatest dif- 
 ficulty in believing, either in Japan or London, 
 that the scene which I witnessed had a scientific 
 or a symbolic importance. But I will endeavour 
 
218 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 to be fair by giving the latter wherever I can. 
 
 The scene of action at Kioto was the booth in 
 the dried-up river bed to which I referred. It 
 was built and roofed with wattled bamboos, be- 
 tween whose interstices the air entered and made 
 a pleasing temperature. The interior accommo- 
 dated several hundred persons, mainly squatted 
 on the ground, though a small, raised platform, 
 divided into compartments, ran round the wall, 
 for the accoromodation of wealthier or more 
 luxurious patrons. Every eye was directed at a 
 raised structure in the centre, rectangular in 
 shape, and about 18 feet square, constructed of 
 bags of sand, packed one upon the other to a 
 height of about 3 feet above the floor. At the 
 four corners of this parallelogram were tall poles 
 reaching to the roof, with gaudily-coloured flags, 
 inscribed with native characters, depending be- 
 tween them at the top. This dais is said to have 
 been a four-columned temple in its origin and still 
 to retain a symbolic significance. In its centre a 
 circle, about 12 feet in diameter, was marked out 
 by a plaited belt of straw, worked into the soil, 
 and was strewn with smooth yellow sand. This 
 was the arena in which the combatants were about 
 to engage, and out of which one of the two must 
 hurl or thrust or throw his adversary before he 
 could claim the victory. 
 
 A third person was also admitted on to the 
 raised artificial platform. This was the umpire, a 
 grotesque sworded figure, clad in a reproduction 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 219 
 
 of the old court costume of Japan, with project- 
 ing skirts, and a stiff excrescence standing out like 
 wings on either side of his back, and flapping as 
 he moved. Carrying in his hand, as an emblem 
 of his office, a species of lacquered fan, which at 
 critical moments he fluttered furiously, he took 
 his stand just outside the magic circle, recited to 
 the audience in a prolonged shriek the names of 
 the combatants, placed them in position, and then 
 went off into an unintelligible gabble of sound, 
 growing louder and louder, and quicker and 
 quicker, till the moment the wrestlers had closed, 
 when his ejaculations culminated in a succession 
 of screams, while he danced about the platform 
 like a maniac, to get a fair view of the contest, to 
 decide the points, and to adjudicate upon fair 
 play. 
 
 And now as to the combatants themselves, the 
 Milos of Tokio and Osaka, the pets of the na- 
 tional palaestra. Though for days I had seen 
 their photographs being hawked about the streets, 
 I must confess I was staggered when I set eyes 
 upon the living originals. As their names were 
 called out, from opposite sides there advanced on 
 to the arena a pair of huge and burly figures, 
 veritable Goliaths of Gath, marvels of flesh what- 
 ever they might be of muscle, tall in stature, big 
 of girth, and elephantine in proportions — a wholly 
 different type of animal from the average Japa- 
 nese, who is a squat little fellow, nimble as a 
 monkey, and less than 5 feet in height. Some of 
 the wrestlers were men of medium height, but the 
 
220 iTALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 majority were of extravagant size and dimensions, 
 and appeared to belong to a distinct species, the 
 peculiar attributes of which had been transmitted 
 by a careful manipulation of the stock from one 
 generation to another. They wore their hair in 
 the old Japanese fashion, now rapidly falling into 
 desuetude, with a stiffly-greased top-knot brought 
 forward and laid horizontally upon the crown. 
 Their features were not conspicuous for refine- 
 ment, and wore an expression of intolerable 
 swagger. Their bodies were plentifully embel- 
 lished with small circular patches of sticking- 
 plaster, concealing artificial burns — a prescription 
 very popular in the Japanese, pharmacopoeia as a 
 counter-irritant to any pain or malady that may 
 happen to be in existence — or with the cicatrices 
 which similar patches had once covered, and rows 
 of which extended symmetrically down their 
 brawny backs. Like the Homeric wrestlers, they 
 were naked save for a Ttepi^oo^a or girdle — in this 
 case a broad tasselled belt of dark blue silk, pass- 
 ing between the legs and round the loins, and 
 fitting so tightly to the figure that the antagonist 
 could with difficulty squeeze his fingers in to get 
 a grip. 
 
 The rival competitors having stepped on to the 
 arena, I naturally anticipated that they would 
 soon fall to. Such expectations were based on a 
 most mistaken estimate of the elasticity of the 
 Japanese code, in which preliminaries, if impor- 
 tance be measured by time, transcend at least ten- 
 fold the trial of strength itself. These prelimi- 
 
JAPANESE WRESTLERS 
 
 [221 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 223 
 
 naries may be divided into two parts: self-adver- 
 tisement on the part of each individual champion, 
 and co-operate bravado by the pair before the real 
 bout begins. Either wrestler first advances with 
 great solemnity to the edge of the platform, and 
 faces the crowd. Lifting his right leg high in the 
 air, and extending it as far as possible from the 
 body, he brings it down on the ground with a vig- 
 orous stamp, at the same time that he also brings 
 down his right hand with a resounding smack 
 upon his right thigh. Then up goes the left leg, 
 and along with it the left hand, and down come 
 both with a thud at a similar angle on the left side ; 
 which done, and having strained and tested his 
 sinews by this remarkable manoeuvre, the wrestler 
 straightens himself and gazes proudly around at 
 the gaping audience. Then he lounges to a corner 
 of the platform, sips a mouthful of water from 
 a small wooden pail, and squirts it through his lips 
 over his arms and chest and legs. Next, a paper 
 napkin is handed to him by an attendant, with 
 which he carefully wipes his face and body. 
 Finally, from a little wooden box affixed to the 
 corner-pole, he takes a pinch of salt between his 
 fingers, and tosses it into the air for luck. This 
 act, I was told, had also a moral significance, as 
 indicating a complete absence of ill-will between 
 the combatants, while the pundits further ascribe 
 to it some unexplained sacrificial value. These 
 precautions satisfactorily completed, the champion 
 probably goes through the stretching and stamp- 
 ing performance once again, until at last he is 
 
224 TALES OF TRAVEE 
 
 ready to play his part in the serio-comedy that 
 then ensues. 
 
 Both athletes now take up their positions on 
 opposite sides of the ring, and, squatting down 
 upon their haunches, vis-a-vis, stretch out their 
 arms and gently rub together the palms of their 
 hands, which they then open outwards with a ges- 
 ture of magnificent civility. Having satisfied 
 this formality, which appears to correspond to the 
 handshake of two English pugilists, they retire 
 once more to their respective corners and repeat 
 the performance with water, paper napkin, and 
 salt. Some seven or eight minutes must have been 
 consumed in these formalities, and patience is 
 well-nigh exhausted, when at length they proceed 
 into the middle of the ring, and again squat down 
 like two monstrous baboons, exactly opposite each 
 other, and with their foreheads all but touching. 
 
 The judge now plants himself on one side, 
 brandishes his fan, and commences the series of 
 mystic ejaculations before alluded to. While his 
 jabber waxes fiercer and fiercer, they are seen to 
 rise slightly from the crouching attitude, and to 
 face each other with alert eyes and outstretched 
 arms, ready to grip or to rush in. But not yet is 
 the visitor sure of his money's worth; for even at 
 this advanced juncture one or other of the antago- 
 nists will casually loaf out of the ring, stroll back 
 to his corner, and resume the water and salt mas- 
 querade — a gratification for which he finds all the 
 readier excuse if, as frequently happens, one of 
 the two parties has seized an unfair advantage in 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 225 
 
 grappling, and the umpire has called " False 
 start.'* A similar plea, too, may justify the inter- 
 polation of a fresh scene in the comedy, such as 
 the rubbing of a little sand under the armpits, or 
 a seizing of the corner-pole with both hands, and 
 straining against it with full strength. When I 
 asked any of my neighbours what they thought of 
 this by-play, they grinned and said, " It is Japa- 
 nese fashion " ; with which simple effort of ratioc- 
 ination their minds appeared to be quite content. 
 
 At length, however — after all these struttings 
 and stridings, these rinsings and rubbings, and 
 feints and fiascoes — our Daniel Lamberts are 
 once more in the ring. What happens when they 
 are at length engaged? 
 
 Now, wrestling may be described as consisting 
 of three varieties: that in which the object is to 
 defeat the adversary by any means whatever, 
 without much consideration for fair or foul; that 
 which, while enjoying a generous latitude, is yet 
 subjected to certain recognised prohibitions- and 
 disquahfications ; and that, every phase and move 
 of which is regulated, partly by written laws, 
 partly by unwritten etiquette. Of the last named, 
 the system in vogue in Cumberland and West- 
 morland — which is the most scientific in existence 
 — is the best illustration; the Devon and Cornish 
 system is a fair type of the second; while of the 
 first or most primitive we find samples in times 
 and countries as remote as among the Greeks of 
 Homer, in certain parts of Lancashire at the 
 present day, and in the palaestra of Japan. 
 
226 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 The object of the Japanese wrestler is to force 
 his opponent to touch the ground with any part 
 of his body other than his feet, or to eject him 
 altogether from the magic circle, designated by 
 the margin of plaited straw. It does not seem to 
 matter much how he does this, whether by dint of 
 superior weight, or strength, or agility, or by 
 means of pushing, or tugging, or lifting, or throw- 
 ing. He may hit his antagonist with his fist or 
 even seize him by the hair. Sometimes the strug- 
 gle is the work of a few seconds; sometimes it is 
 prolonged for minutes. As a rule, the men seem 
 most averse to grappling; or if by chance they 
 have succeeded in closing, instead of aiming at a 
 firm and fair grip, they will encircle each other's 
 shoulders or body with one hand, while with the 
 other they make frantic efforts to grab hold of the 
 tight waistband of the adversary, in order to 
 secure a more reliable purchase. Thus their 
 energy is consumed in the double effort to wriggle 
 out of reach themselves, and yet to catch hold of 
 their antagonist. Sometimes the more powerful 
 man, hke Ajax, in the 23rd Book of the Iliad, will 
 lift his opponent clean off the ground. Some- 
 times, too, the latter, like Ulysses, will reverse the 
 advantage by the exercise of cunning. Some- 
 times, hke the two Homeric heroes, they sprawl 
 side by side. Occasionally the contest degenerates 
 into a butting and thrusting match, as though 
 between a pair of gigantic rams. But very rarely 
 is any real danger incurred, or damage done, and 
 a spectator might attend the Japanese ring for a 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 227 
 
 lifetime and never witness such a scene as is 
 described in the Lady of the Lake, where Scott 
 demonstrates the prowess of Lord James Douglas 
 in the wrestling match by thus describing the con- 
 dition of his vanquished opponents: 
 
 For life is Hugh of Larbert lame, 
 Scarce better John of Alloa's fame, 
 Whom senseless home his comrades bare.: 
 
 The distinguishing feature of the Japanese con- 
 test seemed to be that nothing was unfair; any 
 movement was permissible; no part of the body 
 was forbidden. One result of this is very much 
 to shorten the struggle. As a rule, it was over 
 in a very few moments, or at most in a few min- 
 utes — a ridiculous contrast to the exorbitant time 
 consumed in preliminaries. One of the two com- 
 batants was thrust or pitched or rolled or tumbled 
 out of the ring. He picked himself up and retired 
 on the one side; the victor stepped down on the 
 other; the audience applauded and another pair 
 came on. 
 
 The performance at Kioto, which, after a repe- 
 tition of much the same incidents scores of times 
 in succession, became somewhat monotonous, was 
 relieved by two episodes of a more exaggerated, 
 though unconscious, absurdity than anything by 
 which they had been preceded. In an interval 
 between two stages of the competition there ad- 
 vanced on to the platform, one after the other, 
 two prodigiously fat boys. I say boys, though, 
 
228 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 had I not been told that their ages were only six- 
 teen and seventeen, I should never have guessed 
 that these mountains of flesh, with cheeks like 
 footballs, bellies like hogsheads, and legs like an 
 elephant's, were anything but mature and overfed 
 men. They wore the same scanty costume as the 
 wrestlers, with the addition of a long and gor- 
 geously embroidered satin apron, which depended 
 from below their paunches to the ground. One of 
 the pair, I was told, was the son of a distinguished 
 wrestler; and if he might be taken to represent a 
 smaller edition of his parent, he certainly spoke 
 volumes for the probable proportions of the sire. 
 I expected that these two youthful prodigies 
 would at least give some exhibition of agility or 
 brute strength. But not a bit. They were far too 
 tender to wrestle, and were merely intended for 
 parade. Each in turn went through the solemn 
 dumb show before described. They extended and 
 brought down with a stamp their puffy legs; they 
 smacked their hands upon their corpulent thighs; 
 they spread out their clumsy arms and protruded 
 their rotund paunches; they gazed around with an 
 air of ineffable complacency; and then they 
 strutted off the ring with as much composure as 
 they had marched on. 
 
 The other episode was a wrestling match be- 
 tween the grown-up counterparts of these Gar- 
 gantuan boys; in other words, between two mon- 
 sters whose appearance suggested that of fattened 
 bulls at a Christmas show. They were clearly the 
 idols of the ring, and were received with immense 
 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 229 
 
 plaudits. Great flaps of superfluous fat hung 
 about the body of the larger, and his stomach 
 stood out like an inflated balloon. His rival was 
 scarcely his inferior in size or ugliness. No part 
 of the formula was omitted by these Titans. They 
 raised and planted their unwieldy legs; they 
 spanked their massive thighs; they squatted and 
 drank water, and sprinkled salt, and rubbed their 
 shining skins with the paper napkins. Finally, 
 like two hippopotami, they collided. There was 
 a sort of convulsive thrusting and heaving; a 
 quaking and yielding of vast surfaces of flesh; a 
 sound of crumbling and collapse; and then, all in 
 a moment, the fatter of the two fat men, whose 
 science was not on a par with his suet, rolled off 
 the platform like a beer-barrel, and tumbled down 
 with a crash into the crowd. 
 
 In the second bout he was bent upon revenge. 
 His tactics were simple but efficacious. When his 
 opponent rushed in to grapple, he stood still like 
 a mountain, and the smaller man, crushed by sheer 
 avoirdupois, rebounded off him, and subsided in a 
 heap upon the floor. 
 
 I afterwards inquired how it was that this 
 strange and abnormal type of manhood was pro- 
 duced, and I learned that it was by the practice 
 of eugenics in eoccelsis. The wrestlers are selected 
 in boyhood from the progeny of parents of un- 
 usual size: they are dieted and treated from the 
 earliest years; as they grow up and enter the ring 
 they are attended by a special bodyguard of mas- 
 seurs, trainers, barbers, clothiers and cooks; they 
 
230 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 are encouraged to consume an incredible amount 
 of strength-producing food; and they constitute 
 a separate guild, graded, numbered, and regis- 
 tered according to their capacity. How a selected 
 body of Japanese champions would fare against 
 our North Country or West Coimtry wrestlers I 
 cannot conjecture. For sheer weight no English- 
 man could compete with these fleshy prodigies. 
 But I expect that he would give them a good deal 
 of active exercise to which they are unaccustomed: 
 and I should be prepared to wager a reasonable 
 sum as to which would first find himself " on the 
 mat." 
 
Eight 
 PAGES FROM A DIARY 
 
 L 
 
Eight 
 
 PAGES FROM A DIARY 
 
 I 
 
 The Dancing Girl of E^eneh 
 
 Take her up tenderly. 
 
 Lift her with care; 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 
 Young and so fair. 
 T. Hood, " The Bridge of Sighs." 
 
 THE dance was over. We had looked on at 
 the contortions and wrigghngs, the undula- 
 tions and oscillations of the bodies of the girls as 
 they performed on the deck of the boat. So vio- 
 lent had been their movements that the coins 
 which hung on their gauzy dresses rattled and 
 rang. The usual accompaniment had been fur- 
 nished by the castanets of the dancers, the two- 
 stringed cocoa-nut fiddle of the seated musicians, 
 and the thrumming of the darahoohdh, or native 
 drum. One of the girls, more agile than her com- 
 panions, had lain down on the carpet and rolled 
 over and over with a champagne bottle on her 
 head containing a lighted candle stuck in its neck. 
 The company, departing for their native village 
 of Keneh, famed for its school of dancers, had to 
 cross a narrow plank between the steamer and the 
 steep bank of the Nile. Suddenly a cry was raised 
 
 233 
 
234 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 that one of them, either jostled as she stepped 
 ashore, or slipping on the plank, had fallen over- 
 board. Looking over the side of the boat and 
 listening to the confused noise in the bows, I saw 
 something black float by on the surface of the 
 water a few feet away. Little as I guessed at 
 the moment, this was the head and hair of the 
 drowning girl, who had gone without a struggle 
 or a sound to her doom. 
 
 Quickly lowering a boat, we pulled down stream 
 and lifted out the body 150 yards further down. 
 
 On the muddy bank, lit only by the flicker of 
 a solitary lantern, and the remote gUtter of the 
 stars, lay the poor child's body, the head thrown 
 back, the brown bosom bare, the bedraggled finery 
 clinging round the limbs that half an hour before 
 had tripped and twisted and turned. For three- 
 quarters of an hour we endeavoured in vain to 
 restore respiration amid the piercing cries of the 
 other members of the troupe. It was of no use. 
 One more unfortunate had gone to her death, and 
 the Nile — a, very fatal current into which to fall — 
 had claimed another victim. I collected <£10 on 
 board and sent it to the Mudir of Keneh for dis- 
 tribution to the girl's relatives. But so handsome 
 was the price, or so tempting the bribe, that when 
 we came down stream again a deputation from 
 Keneh awaited us to implore the favour of another 
 performance. 
 
II 
 
 The Aeab Runaway at Nejef 
 
 Asshur shall not save us ; we will not ride upon horses. 
 
 Hosea xiv. 3. 
 
 THE holy shrine of Nejef, one of the two most 
 sacred places of the Shiah faith, situated in 
 the Arabian desert, was my destination. There I 
 was to be the guest of a learned Mujtahed^ or 
 Mussulman Doctor of the Law, bearing the ap- 
 propriate and high-sounding title of the Bahru' 
 rUlum, or Sea of Science; and he had commis- 
 sioned his brother, a demure and courtly Seyid, to 
 greet me and bring me to the city. It was very 
 cold in the early morning. In the distance on the 
 left the tower of Birs Nimrud peered above a blue 
 sea of vapour which enveloped the lower part of 
 the great tepe or mound of burnt bricks from 
 which it springs. Immense flocks of wild geese 
 rose with loud clamour from the surrounding 
 marshes and flew in a perfect cuneiform forma- 
 tion, behind their squadron leader, at a great 
 height in the sky. 
 
 Not a sign of human life or habitation broke 
 the stark monotony of the desert. But as the sun 
 climbed above the horizon, a spark of fire, dwin- 
 dling and then growing again, scintillated on the 
 
 235 
 
236 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 sky-line, where the rays of the mounting orb 
 splintered on the golden dome of Nejef. 
 
 The Seyid and I were riding side by side, and 
 I was receiving instruction from him in the his- 
 tory and mysteries of the sacred places, when 
 there approached us a gaily caparisoned calva- 
 cade, in the midst of which curvetted and cara- 
 coled a magnificent white Arab steed. On his 
 back were a velvet saddle-cloth, and a high-peaked 
 Arab saddle, studded vrith silver; and the heavy 
 shovel-stirrups, hanging loose at his side, jangled 
 to and fro as he leaped and pranced. The two 
 parties met; and thereupon I learned that this 
 splendid animal, the private property of the 
 Seyid, and the prize inmate of his stable, had been 
 sent out by my host, in order that on his back I 
 might make a becoming entry into the sacred city. 
 
 To me, however (I am not ashamed to confess), 
 the prospect of exchanging my good horse and 
 Enghsh saddle for the doubtful amenities of the 
 Arab equipment and the exuberant frolics of this 
 impassioned steed, made no appeal; and I felt a 
 shrewd suspicion that my entry into the site of 
 such holy memories, if honourable, would also be 
 rapid. I recalled the unhappy experience of the 
 Cardinal Balue in the pages of Quentin Durward, 
 and I was resolved to escape a similar fate. With 
 extreme civility, therefore, I pressed upon the 
 Seyid the consideration that the laws of courtesy 
 did not permit me to deprive him of his own horse, 
 and that I should regard it as the highest honour 
 to ride at his side into the town. I urged him 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 239 
 
 therefore to exchange the animal that he was rid- 
 ing for this more showy mount. Although he dis- 
 played almost as much reluctance as I had done 
 to make the exchange, he presently consented, and 
 proceeded to dismount. 
 
 No sooner, however, had he placed one foot in 
 the huge shovel-stirrup, hardly had the other leg 
 swung in the air over the pointed crupper than, 
 like an arrow from the bow, the proud Arab was 
 off into the desert. No Derby winner ever cov- 
 ered the course at Epsom in more approved style 
 or at a more headlong speed. I can see the steed 
 and his rider now, the white mane and long tail 
 of the horse stretched taut, the brown aba^ or cloak, 
 of the Seyid bellying and streaming (like the 
 purple coat of the Cardinal) in the wind, his 
 snow-white turban swaying over the head of the 
 runaway, the thud of the hoofs growing fainter 
 and fainter on the hard gravel of the desert, as 
 horse and rider disappeared into the void. In 
 almost less time than it has taken to write these 
 sentences, they were a speck on the horizon, and 
 finally vanished altogether from view. Nor, until 
 I entered the gates of the city, did the holy man 
 reappear, flushed and pouring with perspiration, 
 but mounted on another and less fiery steed. 
 
 On the next morning, after seeing the sights of 
 the place, we rode out through the high walls of 
 the town on our way to the mosque of Kufa, five 
 miles distant. The Seyid still did me the honour 
 of accompanying me; but this time I observed 
 that he was mounted on a fine white female don- 
 
240 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 key, behind which trotted a young foal. When I 
 asked him why he did not ride his own beautiful 
 horse, he replied that he would mount it a little 
 outside the city. Later on he said that the ex- 
 change would be effected at Kufa. But Kufa 
 came and was passed, Kifl came, Birs Nimrud 
 came, and before sundown we had reached 
 Babylon. But still the secure and patient ass 
 bore the form of the prudent Seyid of Nejef, and 
 the not less prudent Englishman on his Baghdadi 
 horse and his English saddle rode contentedly at 
 his side. 
 
Ill 
 
 The Robber of Khagan 
 
 A territory 
 Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights. 
 Assassins, and all flyers from the hand 
 Of justice, and whatever loathes a law. 
 Tennyson, " Geraint and Enid " {Idylls of the King), 
 
 WHEN I came back again into India from 
 the Pamirs in October 1894, after leaving 
 Chilas, I crossed by the Babusar Pass (13,400 
 feet) into the Khagan valley and descended by 
 that route at Abbottabad, where I was to stay 
 with my friend, that eminent soldier and charm- 
 ing man. Sir William Lockhart. Four years later 
 he was to be my first Commander-in-Chief in 
 India, though his tenure of that high office was 
 lamentably brief, being terminated by his death in 
 Calcutta in March 1900. 
 
 Lockhart had told me that the Khagan valley, 
 which, though inside the borders of British India, 
 was left pretty much to itself, had an evil repu- 
 tation for its bad characters, who escaped easily 
 across the border into the Alsatia of Kohistan. 
 He had accordingly insisted on sending out a de- 
 tachment of Gurkhas who were to help me over 
 the pass, which was likely to be deep in snow, and 
 to guard me during my transit through Khagan. 
 
 These sturdy little fellows, though brave as 
 
 241 
 
242 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 lions in warfare, and belonging to a race of 
 natural mountaineers, were strangely upset by 
 tbe ordeal of crossing the pass in deep snow, and 
 had themselves to receive, instead of rendering, 
 assistance. One of them turned sick and burst 
 out crying, and I had to lift and hold him on to 
 a pony. The difficulty of the pass, however, once 
 surmounted, we then rode for two days down the 
 exquisite valley of Khagan through lovely woods 
 of pine and cedar, crossing repeatedly, by canti- 
 lever bridges of rude timbers, the rushing Kunhar 
 river that foamed and roared below. I was es- 
 corted by the head of the friendly family of 
 Seyids, who are the principal land owners and 
 (under the British Raj) the practical rulers of 
 the valley, and by his brothers and cousins. 
 
 The farther we descended the more beautiful 
 was the scenery, which became Swiss in its tone 
 and beauty. Tall plumy pines clothed the sides 
 of the ravine to the water's edge, and even sprang 
 in the bed of the stream. This sometimes widened 
 into crystal-clear pools, anon roared hilariously 
 in rapids and cascades. I rode over ground lit- 
 tered with pine-needles and cones. The villages 
 or hamlets consisted of log-huts built on the steep 
 slope of the hill, so that the back of the house 
 sprang straight from the hill-side, or at most was 
 raised above it by two horizontal rows of logs, 
 while the facade was sometimes two storeys in 
 elevation, with verandahs. The side walls were 
 built of big logs and stones, but the front, as a 
 rule, consisted of upright timbers. Outside the 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 243 
 
 villages were great stacks of grass and other 
 herbs. 
 
 Nearing Khagan the timber and scenery ac- 
 quired a more English character. Chestnuts and 
 sycamores, yellow with the autumn, abounded. 
 Many of the trees were pollarded, and bundles of 
 dry leaves on sticks were trussed up in the forks 
 for winter use. From every village emerged 
 numbers of tall, spider-waisted, big-turbaned, 
 handsome Seyids, every one apparently a brother 
 or a cousin of the chief. Each as he came up 
 stretched out his right hand, in the palm of which 
 were two rupees, to be politely touched and re- 
 turned. The dress of the men was very different 
 from that with which I had so long been familiar 
 among the dark communities of the Hindu Kush. 
 The Khaganis wore a big turban, white, or of a 
 dark blue tartan, with long ends hanging down 
 behind. An overcoat reached nearly to the knee, 
 and was tightly drawn in by a waist-band at the 
 waist. Below this were loose puttee or cotton 
 knickerbockers; white puttees were bound round 
 the legs with black fastenings, and on the feet 
 were leather shoes turned up at the point. All 
 manner of leather straps and belts were dis- 
 tributed about the person. The men's faces were 
 very yellow in colour, and the majority wore a 
 beard and moustache which was shaven bare over 
 the middle of the lip. The beard of my host, 
 Ahmed Ali Shah, was stained a brilliant red, and 
 his manners were those of a renaissance courtier. 
 The hair was worn long, and turned up at the 
 
2U TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 ends upon the back of the neck. The entire ap- 
 pearance of the Khagan Seyids suggested in fact 
 some human vanity and no small taste. 
 
 On the second night we camped on a grassy 
 slope just outside the principal village of Khagan. 
 My own little Kabul tent was placed on the left 
 side of the miniature terrace, and just above it 
 was pitched the large tent of the Gurkha escort, 
 four of whom were to be on duty by day and the 
 remainder by night. 
 
 Tired out by my long day's ride, I ate my 
 simple dinner in the httle tent, and after writing 
 my diary, went to bed between ten and eleven. 
 The bed consisted of a leather roll stretched on 
 rings between the two yakdans, or leather trunks, 
 which are the most serviceable form of travelling 
 baggage in those regions. Slung on mule-back in 
 the daytime, they serve both as packing-cases, 
 seat, and bedstead in the tent at night. I had 
 placed the bed against the left-hand canvas of the 
 tent, the open space in the centre and on the right 
 being occupied with my saddle and holsters and 
 the whole of my kit, lying in a litter on the floor. 
 The Gurkha guards were presumably posted out- 
 side the tent. 
 
 Soon after midnight I woke, not with a start, 
 but with the consciousness of which I had often 
 read, though I had never before experienced it, 
 that I was not alone in the tent. The darkness 
 was black as pitch and thick as velvet; and though 
 I listened intently without moving a muscle, I 
 heard no sound. Half unconsciously I put out 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 245 
 
 my left hand and dropped it between the bed and 
 the canvas wall of the tent which the bed all but 
 touched. It fell plumb, as though my fingers had 
 alighted upon a billiard ball, on the shaven head 
 of a man. I could feel the prickle of the sprout- 
 ing hair against my palm. But in the same mo- 
 ment the object slid out of my grasp and a rustle 
 indicated the stealthy withdrawal of the intruder. 
 By this time I was wide awake. Springing up, I 
 struck a match, seized my revolver, and dashed in 
 my pyjamas out of the tent, shouting to the 
 Gurkhas as I emerged. Not a man was to be 
 seen. I rushed up the short slope to the guard- 
 tent and tore aside the flap. The eight guards 
 were all lying fast asleep on the ground. 
 
 In a few moments the whole camp was astir, 
 the guilty Gurkhas were flying in every direction 
 in pursuit of the intruder, and the place resounded 
 with shouts and yells. But neither then, nor on 
 the next morning, nor at any time afterwards was 
 any trace of him found. The polite Seyids were 
 visibly disturbed at this reproach upon their hos- 
 pitality and the good character of their village. 
 But they protested that the evildoer could not 
 possibly be a Khagan man; no Khagani could be 
 guilty of so outrageous and criminal an act; he 
 was a budmash from across the border who had 
 fled back incontinently to his own people. 
 
 I do not suppose that the budmash in question 
 had come to kill me, unless indeed he was a 
 Ghazi who wished to reduce by one the number of 
 unbelievers in the world. He was much more 
 
246 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 probably a local thief who expected to find in my 
 tent money or some other valuables, or who was 
 ready to steal anything upon which he could lay 
 his hands. 
 
 But I have always been grateful for the chance 
 that led him to crawl under the left rather than 
 the right canvas of my tent, and that led me to 
 drop my hand upon his unsuspecting cranium at 
 the very moment when he was just lifting his 
 head to find out where he was. Had he effected 
 his entry on the other side of the tent, he might 
 either have absconded with some of my belong- 
 ings or, had I interrupted him in the act, have 
 dealt with me in a manner which would have pre- 
 vented this anecdote from ever being written. 
 
IV 
 
 The Greek Executioner 
 
 With devotion's visage 
 And pious action we do sugar o'er 
 The devil himself. 
 
 Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act III., So. i. 
 
 FORTY years ago the administration of jus- 
 tice in Greece left much to be desired. 
 Visiting the mihtary prison of Fort Palamedes 
 above the town of Nauplia in 1882, I was shown 
 a number of condemned criminals, brigands of the 
 worst type, who were exposed to view behind 
 bars — a horrible sight — awaiting execution. King 
 George, however, who was at that time on the 
 throne, had an invincible repugnance to signing 
 a death-warrant. Accordingly the condemned 
 men were fairly safe as long as His Majesty was 
 in the country. But as soon as he departed on 
 tour, and the Government was put into commis- 
 sion, a death-warrant was at once made out and 
 a few of the more desperate ruffians were dis- 
 posed of. It may well be imagined that among 
 the criminal classes the continental journeys of 
 the sovereign were awaited with much apprehen- 
 sion, and excited but little enthusiasm. 
 
 Still more anomalous was the case of the public 
 executioner. He was himself a criminal, under 
 sentence of death, who had only escaped that fate 
 
 247 
 
248 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 by volunteering to inflict it upon others. His 
 term of office was ten years, and he was eligible 
 for re-appointment if he gave satisfaction. In 
 such general detestation, however, was this func- 
 tionary held, that he was obliged to Hve specially 
 guarded on a little island in the harbour. He 
 would have been murdered at once had he shown 
 himself without protection on the mainland. 
 
 A difficulty, however, presented itself when the 
 executioner, having completed his term of office, 
 wished to retire. His hfe was still in danger, not 
 from the unexecuted sentence of the law, which 
 he had escaped by his own decade of faithful 
 service, but from the vengeance of those whose 
 friends he had been instrumental in despatching 
 to another world. The last incumbent of the 
 office had solved the difficulty in a manner that 
 did credit to his ingenuity, even if it did not con- 
 clusively demonstrate his penitence. He had 
 turned monk and sought the security of a devo- 
 tional life. 
 
V 
 
 By the Waters of Babylon 
 
 The sun's rim dips, the stars rush out. 
 At one stride comes the dark. 
 
 S. T. Coleridge, " The Ancient Mariner." 
 
 ONCE more I am camped on the banks of 
 the Euphrates. The river rolls its dirty 
 volume by. It is the late afternoon. There 
 occurs that wonderful interlude before sundown 
 — a time half of mystery, half of sadness — ^when 
 the day passes through its death-throes and pre- 
 pares for dissolution. In the tranquil radiance 
 the river-side villages are redeemed from the filth 
 and squalor of the day, and assume a fleeting 
 beauty that has in it something of the divine. A 
 bluish vapour rises from the broad river-bosom 
 and swathes the banks with filmy kerchief. The 
 pitchy hulls of the big one-masted boats, moored 
 along the shore, tremble inverted in the glassy 
 current. A rosy pink strikes redly on mud wall 
 and mouldering rampart, and high above the flat 
 house-tops the columnar stems and quivering 
 plumes of a hundred palms are pencilled against 
 the sky. Bands of saffron fringed with green, and 
 of turquoise blending into pink, are stretched like 
 scarves round the horizon, except where in the 
 west the sinking orb turns half the heaven into a 
 
 249 
 
250 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 forge of fire. In the distance is heard the creak- 
 ing of the pulleys as the oxen draw the last skins 
 of water from the muddy wells. Nearer, the 
 mingled sounds of human and animal life, the 
 barking of dogs and braying of donkeys, the shrill 
 clamour of children, the raucous ejaculations of 
 the Asiatic mule-driver, and the eternal hubbub 
 of the bazaar, ring out a strange but not un- 
 musical chorus. From the village mosque tower a 
 brazen-lunged Seyid, with fingers pressed against 
 his ears, intones the evening prayer. And so, as 
 the suave pomp of the Eastern sunset wanes, 
 river and village and people and the glowing sun 
 itself sink slowly to rest; the enchantment seems 
 coldly to fade out and expire; an undulating 
 vapour curls upward from the river-bed; and 
 presently the same grey misty monochrome has 
 enveloped all alike with its fleecy mantle. The 
 day is dead. 
 
VI 
 
 The Havildar of Sarhad 
 
 The poet, wandering on 
 Over the aerial mountains which pour down 
 Indus and Oxus from their icy caves. 
 In joy and exultation held his way. 
 
 Shelley, " Alastor." 
 
 IN the course of my visit to the Pamirs in the 
 early autumn of 1894 in order to determine the 
 true source of the Amu-Daria, or Oxus, 
 
 In her high mountain cradle of Pamere, 
 
 I descended from the lofty passes where the Hindu 
 Kush and Mustagh ranges join and are merged, 
 into the valley of Wakhan. This narrow valley, 
 down which the Oxus flows, had just been assigned 
 by the Pamir Boundary Commission to the Amir 
 of Afghanistan, as a buffer state between British 
 and Russian territories and ambitions, and it was 
 believed to be sparsely occupied by Afghan troops. 
 I camped for one night at Bozai Gumbaz, the place 
 where Sir Francis (then Captain) Younghusband 
 had been arrested by Colonel Yonoff in August 
 1891 — a bleak and cheerless spot — and from there 
 my companion and I made our way down stream, 
 over pans or cliff tracks of appalling steepness, 
 to a spot where the river, released from its long 
 
 261 
 
252 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 mountain imprisonment, spread itself out in count- 
 less fibres over a wide watery plain, closed on 
 either hand by magnificent snow peaks. Below 
 us lay the terraced fields of Wakhan. Oxen, 
 goats, and sheep were being driven in at the 
 sunset hour, and thin curls of smoke arose from 
 the settled habitations of men. My companion and 
 I were a good deal in advance of our caravan, which 
 we had left struggling on the mountain tracks, and 
 we arrived alone at a group of Wakhi villages in 
 the valley bottom, to all of which the Afghans 
 apply the collective title of Sarhad. This spot is 
 10,400 feet above the sea. It was a place of some- 
 what evil reputation for English travellers: for 
 there in 1890 Mr. and Mrs. St. G. Littledale, the 
 well-known explorers, had been stopped for twelve 
 days by the ofiiciousness or discourtesy of the 
 Afghan captain from Kila Panja, 50 miles farther 
 down the river. 
 
 To guard against any such contretemps, I had 
 written in advance to the Amir of Afghanistan, 
 whose guest I was going later to be at Kabul, 
 asking him to send word to his officials in Wakhan 
 of my intended arrival. This he had done, and 
 the petty oflScer at Sarhad was well aware of my 
 identity. Nevertheless, the opportunity of swag- 
 gering a little at the expense of a great power 
 before the inhabitants of this remote spot was too 
 good to be lost, and, the local officer having pres- 
 ently been joined by his superior officer, a havildar 
 from the little Afghan fort of Chehilkand, lower 
 down the valley, these worthies, who wore a non- 
 
[253 
 
 1 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 255 
 
 descript combination of uniform and ordinary- 
 dress, informed my companion and me that we 
 were Russian spies and must consider ourselves 
 under arrest until their commanding officer could 
 arrive from Kila Panja. In the course of my 
 travels I have, on different occasions, been mis- 
 taken for a good many things and persons, but it 
 was a happy novelty to be suspected of being a 
 Russian spy! 
 
 Retaining our equanimity as best we could, we 
 watched with anxious eyes the mountain defile from 
 which our camp and escort must presently emerge, 
 the while we palavered with the intractable and 
 insolent Afghans. Presently, as the welcome 
 caravan debouched upon the plain, the relative 
 strengths of the two parties were reversed; we 
 found ourselves in a very decided numerical ma- 
 jority, and, promptly turning the tables, I in- 
 formed the two Afghans that if they and their 
 seedy sepoys took the smallest step to impede our 
 progress, they should themselves be placed under 
 immediate arrest. This was sufficient; and after 
 a warning of my sincere intention to inform the 
 Amir at Kabul of the hospitable reception accorded 
 at Sarhad to his impending guest, we packed our 
 loads and marched away. 
 
 Two months later at Kabul the Amir himself 
 raised the matter in my first audience with him, 
 having received my letter of complaint and made 
 inquiries. The reply of the havildar, however, had 
 been of such a character as to excite my reluctant 
 admiration. " He was still awaiting," he said, " the 
 
256 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 arrival of the great English Lord sahib, who would 
 no doubt presently appear in uniform with an es- 
 cort of 1000 men. In the meantime two of the 
 Lord sahib's servants {i,e,, my companion and my- 
 self) had already passed through with an insignifi- 
 cant following. He himself would continue dili- 
 gently to await the great Lord." 
 
 I heard later that this estimable intention on 
 the part of the polite havildar had been frustrated 
 by an imperative summons to Kabul. What hap- 
 pened there I do not know, though from my knowl- 
 edge of the Amir I should fear the worst. For 
 my own part, I could not help feeling a sneaking 
 admiration for the ingenuity of my two inhospitable 
 friends of Sarhad in Wakhan. 
 
VII 
 In the Bull Ring 
 
 NoTiciAS Taurinas 
 
 La Corrida de Cadiz fue buena. Los toros de Nunez de 
 Prado resultaron bravos y de empieje despachando 15 caballos. 
 Frascuelo estuevo disgraciado y Angel Pistor bien. La Cor- 
 rida de Malaga fue mala. El publico silbo a Lagartijo y 
 Cara-Ancha. Los toros de Benjumea saluron muy malos — 
 Uno de ellos fu fogueado. 
 
 El Liberal, April 29, 1884. 
 
 I SAW the usual sights of the Spanish bull 
 ring. I saw Lagartijo and Mazzantini kill 
 eight bulls in eight strokes at the great Easter 
 festival at Seville. I witnessed the revolting spec- 
 tacle of the half-disembowelled horses forced upon 
 the horns of the artificially infuriated animals, the 
 agility of the handerilleros, the cruelty of the in- 
 flammable darts, the amazing skill, agility, and 
 courage of the espada or torero in the final en- 
 counter. The entire performance filled me, as it 
 has filled so many others, with alternate admira- 
 tion and disgust. Far more than the bull-fight 
 itself was I interested in the scene on the eve be- 
 fore the fight, when the bulls were driven into the 
 town at night, thundering along the closed streets 
 amid clouds of dust to the waving of lanterns and 
 the cries of the horsemen urging them on, until they 
 were penned in their stalls in the great amphithe- 
 
 257 
 
258 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 atre, where they were to be shut up foodless till 
 their ordeal of the morrow. 
 
 But the feature of the Spanish crowd that struck 
 me most was its personal attitude, sometimes of 
 frenzied admiration, sometimes of passionate ridi- 
 cule and fury, directed at the principal actors, 
 whether human or animal, in the drama. If one 
 of the fighters showed skill and address, he would 
 be frantically applauded; if he missed a series of 
 strokes or offended against any of the rules of 
 the game, still more if he appeared to be lacking 
 in personal courage, he would be as unmercifully 
 hissed, and oranges, empty bottles, old shoes and 
 hats would be hurled at him from the crowd. Sim- 
 ilarly, if the bull put up a good fight, he was loudly 
 cheered. If he funked or declined to fight, he was 
 overwhelmed with derision and contempt — poor 
 brute — as though he had been guilty of some 
 culpable misdemeanour. Indeed, not only was he 
 personally abused, but his family and ancestry 
 were held up to equal execration. 
 
 All this seemed very foreign to British ideas of 
 sport. English crowds occasionally indulge in a 
 little *' barracking " if a particularly " stone-wall " 
 bat defends his wicket without adding to the score, 
 but I have never heard a football player hissed 
 for missing a goal; still less a racehorse calumni- 
 ated for coming in last in a race. 
 
 But the Spanish temperament in its ardour for 
 the national sport identifies itself with the triumphs 
 or the laches of man and beast alike, and, if it 
 applauds their exploits, is equally indifferent to 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 259 
 
 their failure or suffering. I can never forget one 
 such scene of which I was a witness in the great 
 bull ring of Malaga. 
 
 Just as the espada lunged with the sword, at 
 the very instant that he sprang aside, the bull with 
 a rapid twist of its lowered head was upon him. 
 He was caught and tossed like a feather bolster 
 into the air ; he fell ; in a second again he was aloft, 
 transfixed on that terrible point. There was a 
 vision of glittering silver spangles, violet silk 
 breeches, and white stockings, as they were twirled 
 round in mid-air, and then a heavy thud as the 
 body was dashed again to the ground. 
 
 A cry of momentary horror broke even from 
 that callous assembly. Thousands sprang ex- 
 citedly from their seats; many dashed down to 
 the arena to get a nearer view of what was hap- 
 pening; the personal friends of the bull-fighter 
 leaped the barricade to offer their services. The 
 unhappy man, staggering for a moment to his feet, 
 and striving ineffectually to combine with the 
 physical courage that never deserted him the 
 strength that was fast ebbing away, fell into the 
 arms of the surrounding matadors. He had two 
 gaping wounds, one in the back of the right thigh, 
 the other in the groin — the two places where the 
 cruel point had been driven home. 
 
 One of the doors in the barrier was opened; 
 the procession carrying the wounded man disap- 
 peared down the gangway beyond. The excite- 
 ment subsided as quickly as it had arisen; the 
 crowd resumed their seats, and the entertainment 
 
260 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 proceeded exactly as though nothing had occurred. 
 That evening the victim died. 
 
 Few perhaps who see the sport and applaud 
 the skill realise the prodigious risks incurred in 
 the final stage. The death roll of famous toreros, 
 though perhaps not great in proportion to the 
 numbers engaged, is the most eloquent comment. 
 Of those whom I saw nearly forty years ago the 
 most celebrated happily survived their experience 
 of the arena. Mazzantini, who had been both a 
 station-master and an operatic singer, ended his 
 public career as Civil Governor of Cadiz! La- 
 gartijo and Frascuelo became small landed pro- 
 prietors, and remained popular heroes on their 
 farms. But others, in addition to the Malaga 
 victim, whose name I forget, were less fortunate, 
 and lost their lives on the field of action. The 
 most recent champion of the ring, Joselito, was 
 killed at Talavera in 1920. The year 1922 claimed 
 the lives of Varelito and Granero. 
 
VIII 
 
 The Maharaja's Adjuration 
 
 And the driving is like the driving of Jehu, the son of 
 Nimshi; for he driveth furiously. 
 
 2 Kings ix. 20. 
 
 IT was a wonderful spectacle. Here Nature 
 had spent upon the land her richest bounties; 
 the sun failed not by day, the rain fell in due 
 season, drought was practically unknown; an 
 eternal summer appeared to gild the scene. In 
 a fairy setting of jungle and backwater and 
 lagoon, prosperous cities had been founded; and 
 a race of indigenous princes flattered the pride 
 and upheld the traditions of a tranquil and con- 
 tented people. 
 
 The morning from the earliest hour — for it was 
 very hot — was spent in ceremonial duties. State 
 visits had to be paid, formal compliments ex- 
 changed, institutions to be inspected or opened, 
 speeches to be made — all this under a cloudless 
 sky and a tropical sun. Even in their white duck 
 uniforms the staff felt and looked hot; even the 
 Maharaja, in all his panoply of silks and jewels, 
 although inured to the climate, was perceptibly 
 warm. The native crowds, however, who lined the 
 streets and packed the public places, in their 
 scantier attire were visibly happy, while not dis- 
 
 261 
 
262 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 daining the use of sunshades of local manufacture. 
 The massed school children did the requisite 
 amount of shrill cheering at selected sites. The 
 prince's body-guard galloped about on quite in- 
 ferior mounts and attempted a display with which 
 they were evidently unfamiliar. The state landau 
 had been pulled out for the occasion by the 
 Maharaja for the use of the Viceroy and his wife; 
 but neither the horses nor the native coachman on 
 the box appeared to have any clear appreciation 
 of their task or any particular aptitude for per- 
 forming it. 
 
 The procession was about to start from one 
 ceremonial scene to another; " God save the 
 King " was being performed in a somewhat pre- 
 carious and spasmodic fashion by a native band; 
 the crowds began to cheer, the cavalry escort fell 
 into place; but the carriage and horses seemed 
 reluctant to start, while the native coachman ap- 
 peared to be so overcome with his responsibilities 
 as to be incapable of anything but futile gesticu- 
 lation. 
 
 Then it was that the Maharaja, whose knowl- 
 edge of English was limited, but who realised 
 that his reputation as a prince and a host was at 
 stake, rose in his place and ejaculated in tones of 
 thunder two words and two alone: 
 
 "D-r-i-ver! D-r-iver!" 
 
 It was felt by every one that the command was 
 adequate to the occasion. The Maharaja sank 
 back into his seat exhausted, but with the air of a 
 great duty solemnly performed; the native coach- 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 263 
 
 man ceased gesticulating and with recovered con- 
 fidence handled the reins; the steeds sprang for- 
 ward with an unexpected elan; the procession fell 
 into hne; and the next stage in the morning's per- 
 formance was securely and triumphantly achieved. 
 The two words of the Maharaja, like the " Open 
 Sesame " of Ali Baba, had successfully solved the 
 problem. 
 
IX 
 
 The Young Judge 
 
 O wise young judge, how I do honour thee. 
 Shakspeare, Merchant of Venice, Act. IV., Sc. i. 
 
 THE death of King Victor Emmanuel in 
 January 1878 produced an immense sensa- 
 tion throughout Italy, where he was not merely 
 regarded as the national hero who had re-estab- 
 lished the national unity, and placed Italy once 
 more in the front rank of states, but had endeared 
 himself to the people by his sporting instincts, his 
 indomitable gallantries, and his interest in the life 
 of all classes of the population. The title " II lie 
 Galantuomo " fitly represented the national con- 
 ception both of his character and his service. The 
 demonstrations of sorrow were universal and sin- 
 cere, and all Italy yearned to testify its sense of 
 the irreparable loss which the nation had sus- 
 tained. Inasmuch as the whole of the country 
 could not participate in the obsequies at Rome, 
 where the King had been buried, it was decided 
 to hold a great ceremony for Northern Italy at 
 Milan, where a service was announced to be held 
 in the Duomo, and a requiem mass performed. 
 Tens of thousands of persons poured into Milan 
 from all parts of the country, and the city was as 
 packed as though, instead of conducting a service 
 
 264 
 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 265 
 
 over a man already interred elsewhere, the body 
 of the King himself was to be carried by his 
 mourning people to the actual grave. 
 
 I happened to be in Milan with my old and 
 trusted friend Oscar Browning; and we consid- 
 ered in what way we could, without any special 
 credentials, see the spectacle and take part in the 
 celebration. We decided in any case to put on 
 black evening clothes, top hats, and white ties, as 
 likely to be in harmony with the sentiment of the 
 hour. Thus attired we sallied out in the morning 
 and made our way through the crowded streets to 
 the prefecture to see if we could obtain permis- 
 sion to enter the cathedral. There was a great 
 crowd round the official building, where proces- 
 sions of provincial mayors and district judges 
 were being organised, and were in some cases 
 already starting on their way. Observing that 
 some of these gentlemen were garbed in raiment 
 almost identical with our own, we insinuated our- 
 selves in their midst, and walked with admirable 
 composure in their company through the long cov- 
 ered gallery or arcade that leads into the Piazza 
 before the Duomo. O. B.'s fluent command of 
 Italian enabled him to cope easily with the situa- 
 tion. But I was a little embarrassed when my 
 neighbour in the procession addressed me with the 
 remark that I appeared to be an exceptionally 
 youthful judge, and wanted to know whence I 
 came. I acknowledged the precocity, but re- 
 frained from otherwise adding to his information. 
 
 At length we emerged into the great piazza. 
 
266 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 which was filled with an enormous crowd, and, 
 crossing this, marched up the main steps of the 
 Duomo and entered by the central door. At the 
 head of the nave stood a gigantic catafalque on 
 which rested the empty coffin, draped in purple 
 and black, that represented the absent body of the 
 King. Whether the illusion that we were judges 
 did or did not continue to prevail, at any rate no 
 one obstructed our passage to the foot of the 
 catafalque, where the bishops assisting in the 
 ceremony took their seats at our feet. From this 
 vantage ground we witnessed without interrup- 
 tion the entire ceremony. 
 
 It was not free from tragedy. For, after the 
 processions had entered and the service had 
 already advanced far on its way, the crowd in the 
 piazza, who had not been permitted to enter the 
 cathedral, burst through the great door that 
 closed the northern side aisle and flocked into the 
 building. Like a flood they poured up the aisle, 
 climbing the monuments, overturning the occu- 
 pants of the seats, and crushing and trampling 
 each other under foot. A part of the Mass was 
 being chanted by a tenor with a divine voice, whose 
 name was Tommaso or Tommasino (or some such 
 name) ; but loud above his glorious notes rang 
 through the marble colonnades the agonising 
 shrieks of the tortured men and women. The 
 next day we read in the papers that not a few 
 persons had been crushed to death in that des- 
 perate and almost demoniacal struggle. 
 
Nine 
 HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 
 
Nine 
 
 HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 
 
 I 
 
 The "Pig and Whistle " at Bunji 
 
 I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest ends 
 of Asia. 
 
 Shakspeare^ Much Ado About Nothing, Act 11.^ So. i. 
 
 NOTHING is more remarkable than the char- 
 acter and spirit of the young men, British 
 subalterns as a rule, who on the outskirts of our 
 Indian dominions are upholding the fabric and 
 sustaining the prestige of the British Raj. 
 
 In remote mountain fastnesses, amid wild tribes, 
 far from civilisation, in a climate sometimes sav- 
 agely hot, at others piercingly cold, with no com- 
 forts or luxuries, often amid cruel hardships, they 
 face their task with unflinching and patriotic 
 ardour, dispensing justice among alien popula- 
 tions, training and disciplining native forces, and 
 setting a model of manly and uncomplaining de- 
 votion to duty, which reflects undying credit on 
 the British name. 
 
 Scattered as they may be over wide areas, it 
 will be rarely that they can meet together to 
 enjoy society or to exchange experiences. When 
 they do, warm is the hospitality and high are the 
 spirits that prevail. On my march from Kashmir 
 to the Pamirs, in the autumn of 1894, I came 
 
 269 
 
270 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 across such a place, and I was lucky in joining 
 such a gathering at a spot known as Bunji, not 
 far from the Indus on the mountain road to 
 Gilgit. It is a forlorn and melancholy spot, des- 
 titute either of amenities or attraction. Here, 
 however, stood a humble single- storied bungalow, 
 consisting, as far as I remember, of three small 
 rooms, one of which was used as a mess-room, 
 where the young officers from time to time fore- 
 gathered as they went up and down the road. 
 With a somewhat forced jocularity, seeking to 
 invest this dingy meeting-place with the simu- 
 lacrum of a tavern, its frequenters had christened 
 it the " Pig and Whistle." 
 
 On this occasion, hearing of my visit, they had 
 collected from far and near. I was accorded the 
 sleeping-place of honour in a flea-haunted bed- 
 room, where I spent a night of horror. But the 
 real entertainment was in the so-called mess-room, 
 where was dispensed whatever of hospitality the 
 limited local resources might permit. 
 
 As we sat down to dinner, however, I noticed 
 that on the bespattered walls of this primitive hos- 
 telry were pinned a series of portraits of famous 
 English beauties, cut from the pages of illus- 
 trated newspapers. There I saw the likenesses of 
 a number of great ladies whom I knew well in 
 England — Georgina, Countess of Dudley; Milli- 
 cent. Duchess of Sutherland; Lady Warwick, and 
 others whose names I cannot now recall. Each 
 visitor, as he journeyed to and fro and enjoyed 
 the modest hospitality of the " Pig and Whistle," 
 
[271 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 273 
 
 had written his name in pencil against the por- 
 trait which he thought the most beautiful, thus 
 offering his humble and innocuous tribute at the 
 shrine of Venus. Such was the sohtary recreation 
 of these gallant but futile lovers. 
 
 When I arrived, the result was a tie between 
 the three principal competitors; and upon my 
 revealing that I knew the subjects of all the por- 
 traits, I was invited with uproarious enthusiasm 
 to append my name to the most lovely, and so to 
 award the apple. I did so, but to whom I gave 
 the prize I have never revealed, nor would wild 
 horses now induce me to disclose. It remains a 
 secret buried for ever in the unwritten records of 
 the " Pig and Whistle " at Bunji in the Hima- 
 layan Mountains. 
 
II 
 
 The Top Hat at Teheran 
 
 The hat is the ultimum moriens of respectability. 
 
 O. Wendell Holmes^ The Auto- 
 crat of the Breakfast Table, viii, 
 
 WHEN I was at Teheran in the autumn of 
 1889, as the guest of the British Minister, 
 Sir H. Drummond Wolff, the latter procured for 
 me an audience with H.M. Nasr-ed-Din Shah. 
 But for this purpose I was informed that a black 
 silk top hat such as we wear in the streets of 
 London was indispensable. Now, though I should 
 never think of travelling either to Timbuctoo or 
 even the North Pole without a dress suit — for in 
 anxious circumstances this is a recognised hall- 
 mark of respectability throughout the world, and 
 will procure an audience of almost any living 
 potentate — I had not encumbered myself in my 
 Persian journeys, where all my effects had to be 
 strapped on to the back of a horse, galloping sixty 
 or seventy miles in the day, with anything so per- 
 ishable as a top hat. Nor was such an object to 
 be found for love or money in the shops of 
 Teheran. 
 
 The British and other foreign legations were 
 ransacked for what they might be able to produce 
 in the shape of the obligatory headpiece; but, 
 
 274 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 275 
 
 although a few somewhat battered specimens were 
 forthcoming, the diplomatic cranium generally 
 appeared to be of so ill-developed a character, at 
 any rate as represented at that time in the Per- 
 sian capital, that not one of them could I per- 
 suade to rest upon my head, which happens to be 
 unduly large and round. I amused myself by 
 repeating the famous remark of Jowett in his 
 funeral sermon upon Dean Stanley, which I had 
 heard when an undergraduate at Balliol some 
 years before, when the Master had said that 
 though mitres rained upon Stanley as thick as 
 hailstones from heaven, his head was so curiously 
 shaped that none of them would precisely fit it. 
 
 The British Minister himself had a head of 
 creditable dimensions; and I found by experiment 
 that his hat, which was decent though tarnished, 
 could be comfortably fitted on my brow. But 
 alas! when I suggested that he should surrender 
 it to me and go to the audience — for he was to 
 present me — in his cocked hat and diplomatic uni- 
 form, he absolutely declined to do anything so 
 subversive of the official etiquette at a private 
 audience. His top hat was his own, and upon 
 no other head should it repose. 
 
 Amid this sequence of cruel disappointments 
 the time sped rapidly by until the eve of the day 
 of audience arrived. 
 
 No top hat had yet been procured, and I con- 
 templated the probability of having to go bare- 
 headed through the streets, a not too enviable 
 experience under a midday Asiatic sun. 
 
276 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 On the very last evening, however, a young 
 Persian Minister had invited me to dinner at his 
 house in the Persian style, to which a few other 
 Europeans had also been bidden. We passed a 
 very pleasant evening, and tasted rather than con- 
 sumed an immense number of succulent Persian 
 dishes ; among the company being a French savant 
 of world-wide reputation, who had arrived at 
 Teheran in the pursuit of certain anthropological 
 researches. As we left the house at a late hour — 
 the party to which I belonged being the first to 
 go — and passed through the vestibule, I started 
 with an exclamation of almost rapturous surprise 
 when I beheld standing upon the table, prominent 
 and inviting, a black silk hat, glossy, capacious 
 and new. With a presence of mind on which I 
 have never ceased to congratulate myself, I 
 clapped it on to my head, over which it came 
 down nearly to the ears, ran out of the house, 
 jumped on to my horse, and returned at full 
 gallop to the British legation. 
 
 On the next afternoon I was duly presented to 
 His Majesty the Shah, my top hat being the 
 admiration of all observers, and in the evening 
 the headpiece was returned, with profuse apolo- 
 gies for the slight mistake, to the learned savant. 
 He is doubtless unaware to this hour that but for 
 his head and his hat I should never have had the 
 honour of an audience with H.M. Nasr-ed-Din 
 Shah. 
 
Ill 
 
 The Entry Into Kabul 
 
 Fortes Fortuna juvat. 
 
 Pliny. 
 
 Blesses his stars and thinks it luxury. 
 
 Addison, Cato, Act I., Sc. iv. 
 
 WHEN in the autumn of 1894 I received an 
 invitation from Amir Abdur Rahman 
 Khan to visit him in his country, and was making 
 the preparations for my journey, I had to con- 
 sider the dress in which I should present myself 
 at the Afghan capital. As I was the first private 
 visitor for many years to Kabul, and as the Amir 
 had paid me an exceptional compliment in the 
 invitation, knowing that I was a Member of Par- 
 liament and had been Under-Secretary for India, 
 it was desirable that my appearance should be 
 adequate to the occasion. So many incorrect ver- 
 sions of my visit have appeared in print that I 
 will here set down the facts. If I practised a 
 slight measure of deception I trust that it was as 
 innocent as it was successful. 
 
 The only official uniform that I possessed, apart 
 from the pseudo-military outfit of a Deputy- 
 Lieutenant, was that which is worn by an English 
 Under-Secretary of State (I was not at that time 
 a Privy Councillor) ; and I remembered the 
 
 277 
 
278 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 mediocre impression which this exceedingly plain 
 and unattractive garb had produced at the Court 
 of Korea. Moreover, I was not the owner of a 
 star or cross or medal of any description. I also 
 remembered that in conversation with Mr. Ney 
 Elias, the famous explorer and member of the 
 Indian Political Department, a few years before, 
 he had told me that the main reason for the excel- 
 lent impression he had produced when engaged 
 upon a boundary commission in Afghan Tur- 
 kestan, was the extreme width of the gold stripe 
 which he had taken the precaution to have sewn 
 upon his trousers, and the size of the sword with 
 which he had girt his thigh. Acting upon this 
 prudent hint I decided that, if I were to produce 
 the desired effect at the Afghan capital, I must 
 not be too strict in my observance of the rules laid 
 down by the Lord Chamberlain at the Court of 
 St. James. After all, while in Afghanistan, as 
 the guest of the Amir, I should be regarded not 
 merely as an ex-Minister of Great Britain, but 
 also for the time being as a representative of my 
 own nation: and it behoved me therefore to repre- 
 sent this double personality with becoming dig- 
 nity. 
 
 Accordingly I devised a costume, which made 
 up as it was, partly in London, partly at Bombay, 
 and partly in the Punjab, was certainly compo- 
 site, but would, I thought, be appropriate to the 
 occasion. In London, before starting, I called 
 upon Messrs. Nathan, the well-known theatrical 
 costumers, and there I found a number of stars 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 279 
 
 of foreign orders, which had no doubt once 
 adorned the bosoms of foreign diplomats, and 
 been purchased by Messrs. Nathan for the pur- 
 pose of their business. I negotiated the hire of 
 three of the most gorgeous of these for the space 
 of six months, for a very moderate sum. What 
 they were exactly, I do not remember ; but I think 
 that they belonged to some of the smaller states 
 of Eastern Europe, and I fancy from its splen- 
 dour that one was Russian. I also discovered and 
 hired by far the biggest pair of gold epaulettes 
 that I have ever seen. They must have decorated 
 the shoulders of some eighteenth-century Admiral 
 of vast proportions, about the time of the French 
 wars; and they reposed in a beautiful tin case, 
 which was almost the size of a hat -box. 
 
 This was the English contribution to my equip- 
 ment. Then, while I was in India, it struck me 
 that, for the purpose of an entry on horseback, 
 the blue trousers and the boots of the ordinary 
 levee dress were hardly sufficiently business-like 
 or imposing. I accordingly ordered from a well- 
 known Bombay bootmaker a gorgeous pair of 
 patent leather Wellington top-boots, which I still 
 possess, and which certainly lent a much needed 
 elegance to the lower extremities of my person. 
 Finally, while staying at Abbottabad with my 
 friend Sir William Lockhart, then Commander- 
 in-Chief in India, before I entered Afghanistan, 
 I consulted him as to procuring a cavalry sword 
 of suitable dimensions and splendour, in prefer- 
 ence to the miserable skewer that is an appendage 
 
280 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 of the English Court dress. He replied that he 
 had the very thing, and forthwith produced a 
 gigantic curved weapon with an ivory hilt and a 
 magnificent chased and engraved scabbard, which 
 had been presented to him in honour of some suc- 
 cessful campaign, and the blade of which was cov- 
 ered with a lordly inscription. The clatter made 
 by this weapon when hung loosely from the belt 
 was of the most approved and awe-inspiring 
 description. Such was the get-up with which I 
 approached my fateful journey. 
 
 Well do I recall the anxiety with which, when 
 I drew near to Kabul, I extracted these objects 
 from their resting-place and proceeded to don my 
 variegated apparel! A special tent had been 
 pitched for me by order of the Amir a mile or 
 more from the city walls, in order that I might 
 halt and exchange my travel-stained riding dress 
 for something more becoming to the occasion. I 
 was very near to a fiasco, for I had completely 
 forgotten that epaulettes (which I had never 
 worn) require a special attachment to the shoul- 
 ders of the particular uniform of which they form 
 a part. Still more was this the case with ap- 
 pendages of the titanic proportions •of my pur- 
 chase. At the last moment it was only possible 
 to correct this unfortunate oversight by a liberal 
 use of needle and thread, and I had over an hour's 
 hard work with both in the endeavour to sew the 
 epaulettes into a position of becoming stabihty on 
 my shoulders. Even so, at any sudden jolt or 
 movement of the body they were liable to jump 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 281 
 
 forward with a leap that sent my heart into my 
 mouth and nearly tore asunder their frail attach- 
 ments. However, all was at length adjusted. 
 The patent leather boots with a pair of handsome 
 spurs shone upon my legs; Sir W. Lockhart's 
 presentation sword rattled at my side; my breast 
 was ablaze with the insignia of unknown diplo- 
 mats of the past ; and a cocked hat nodded on my 
 head. 
 
 Thus attired I entered the town, and was 
 escorted to the palace. I flattered myself, as I 
 was conducted into the Durbar Hall of the Amir, 
 that I created the desired impression, though I 
 was a little perplexed when His Highness be- 
 trayed an admiring interest in my trophies, and 
 wished to know exactly what services or exploits 
 they commemorated, or the favour of what mon- 
 arch they testified. To these inconvenient queries 
 I could only return the most general and depre- 
 catory replies. But for the gilded epaulettes, with 
 their ample bullion, hanging in rich festoons, 
 there was reserved the greatest triumph. For the 
 Amir, sending for the court tailor, pointedly 
 called his attention to these glittering appendages 
 as of a character necessitating serious notice and 
 even reproduction at the Court of Afghanistan; 
 and for all I know they may have left a perma- 
 nent mark upon the sartorial equipment of the 
 God-granted Government. 
 
 Little more than four years later I had as many 
 genuine orders on my bosom (though not drawn 
 from quite so wide a range) as it could conveni- 
 
282 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 ently hold; and I was corresponding with my 
 friend the Amir as the authorised representative 
 of my Sovereign. But I still cherish the fond 
 belief that my improvised entry into the Afghan 
 capital was not altogether without eclat and even 
 distinction. 
 
 Somewhat later, in the course of my reading, I 
 came across a passage which showed that I was 
 by no means the first English traveller to find it 
 desirable to pay special deference in respect of 
 costume to the ideas or etiquette of an Asiatic 
 Court. When W. Hawkins went out in command 
 of the newly-founded East India Company to 
 India in 1607, to proceed to the court of the 
 Great Mogul (Jehangir), " in order that he might 
 appear with becoming splendour, he was furnished 
 with scarlet apparel, his cloak being lined with 
 taffeta, and embroidered with silver lace." ^ 
 
 Hawkins, it is clear, easily beat me in point of 
 raiment, but I flatter myself that he had not my 
 unique collection of stars. 
 
 1 W. Foster, Early Travels in India, p. 62. 
 
IV 
 
 The Annamite Girl 
 
 I am black but comely. 
 
 Song of Solomon, i. 5. 
 
 WHEN I came back from one of my long 
 journeys in the East, in the course of 
 which I had visited the French possessions of 
 Tongking, Annam and Cochin- China, I dehvered 
 a lecture at the Royal Geographical Society on 
 the subject of my travels. The meeting was held 
 in the theatre of the University of London in 
 Burlington Gardens, and was honoured by the 
 presence of King Edward VII., then Prince of 
 Wales, who occupied a seat upon the platform. 
 Every bench from floor to roof was filled, and 
 many people were turned away. At the end of 
 my paper the illustrations which I had selected 
 from a large number of photographs, either taken 
 by myself or collected during my tour, were 
 thrown from a lantern on to the screen, each slide 
 being preceded by a brief explanatory description 
 from myself. All went well until, after exhibit- 
 ing slides of the scenery and buildings of Tong- 
 king, I said, '' I will now show you the picture of 
 an Annamite girl, in order to prove that the 
 native population, though possessing marked 
 Mongolian features, are far from destitute of 
 
 283 
 
284 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 personal charm. Indeed," I added, " I thought 
 some of them quite pretty." 
 
 All eyes were turned upon the screen, upon 
 which there forthwith appeared, magnified to far 
 more than life size, the figure of a seated Anna- 
 mite girl, destitute of any but the smallest shred 
 of clothing. 
 
 The audience, after a slight pause of bewildered 
 surprise, burst into roars of laughter, again and 
 again renewed, in which His Royal Highness 
 heartily joined; nor did he ever cease to chaff me 
 afterwards about my Annamite lady friend. No 
 explanation availed anything. It was useless for 
 me to declare — ^though it was the strict truth — 
 that the photograph was one of a packet which 
 had been presented to me by the Governor- Gen- 
 eral of French Indo-China, in order to illustrate 
 the people and habits of that country, and that I 
 had incautiously handed the entire packet, with 
 marks upon those which were to be put upon the 
 slides, to the lantern operator, who in a spirit as 
 I imagine, of mischief, had ignored my instruc- 
 tions and selected this unmarked photograph for 
 reproduction. 
 
 No one beheved me. But from the moment 
 that the figure of the young girl was thrown upon 
 the screen, the success of the lecture was assured, 
 in the same hour that the character of the lecturer 
 was irreparably destroyed. 
 
V 
 
 The State Entey Into Datia 
 
 Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen. 
 Fallen from his high estate. 
 
 Dryden, " Alexander's Feast,'* 
 
 IT is customary, when the Viceroy of India 
 visits the capital of a native state, for the 
 Prince whose guest he is to receive him at the rail- 
 way station — should he arrive by rail — and to 
 conduct him personally to the palace or camp 
 prepared for his reception. 
 
 The chief on this occasion brings out his state 
 equipages, and ordinarily ushers the Viceroy into 
 a state landau, drawn by four horses with postil- 
 lions, in which he takes his seat at the side of his 
 guest, the remaining two places, with their backs 
 to the horses, being taken by the Military Secre- 
 tary and the A.D.C. in waiting. 
 
 On the occasion of my visit to the central In- 
 dian state of Datia in 1902 — the native chief of 
 which was a fine old fellow with henna-dyed 
 beard, a great elephant rider in his day — I ob- 
 served on arriving at the station that the Prince 
 had paid me the unusual compliment of harness- 
 ing no fewer than six horses with three postillions 
 to the state landau. Into this stately equipage 
 we clambered, and proceeded at a smart pace 
 
 285 
 
2B6 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 towards the walls of the ancient town of Datia, 
 situated at a slight distance on the crest of a hill, 
 and crowned by the massive and sombre castle of 
 Bir Singh Deo. The state troops lined the road: 
 some were on foot, some on richly caparisoned 
 horses; others were on camels, or in palkis, and 
 held obsolete weapons in their hands. 
 
 All went well until we approached the city 
 gates, when I realised that the fortifications of 
 of the town, which were mediaeval in origin and 
 design, included, not a single barbican or outer 
 gate, often placed for defensive purposes at right 
 angles to the main entrance, but a double barrier 
 of this description, so that any one entering the 
 town had to turn a corner, almost at right angles, 
 not once but twice before penetrating the main 
 entrance in the walls. I realised the full peril of 
 the situation when I saw the leaders with their 
 postillion disappear altogether from sight, as they 
 turned the first angle — to be followed presently 
 by the middle pair. What was happening or 
 might happen out of sight in the distance it was 
 impossible to conjecture. It was bad enough that 
 the landau itself was lurching heavily and with 
 difficulty escaped impinging upon the sides of the 
 great brick archways. By some unheard-of skill 
 or good fortune the two comers were negotiated 
 without disaster, but as the team pulled itself 
 together and entered the inner gateway of the 
 town, they seemed of one accord to realise that 
 the strain was more than they ought to have been 
 called upon to bear, and they broke into a sharp 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 287 
 
 gallop which the postillions were powerless to 
 restrain. The street was very narrow, was paved 
 with stone and consequently slippery, and had no 
 pavement — only a sort of gutter or ditch at the 
 side. Moreover, the road presently descended by 
 a rather sharp incline. The welcoming shouts of 
 the good people of Datia, who crowded the gal- 
 leries and roofs of the houses, added to the fright 
 of the horses, the big landau began to sway dan- 
 gerously from side to side, and the end was mani- 
 festly near. 
 
 Suddenly one or other, I daresay more, of the 
 horses slipped up and came with a crash to the 
 ground, the vehicle turned over, and my next sen- 
 sation was that of finding myself sitting on the 
 top of the old Maharaja, in all his finery of silks 
 and jewels, in the stone gutter. No harm was 
 done: an intelligent A.D.C. sat on the head of 
 the plunging horses; the traces were cut; the car- 
 riage was with difficulty dragged on one side; and, 
 changing into a later vehicle in the procession, we 
 resumed our state entry unhindered and unhurt. 
 The old Maharaja was very crestfallen; but, 
 being a sportsman, he took the matter in good 
 part, and soon recovered his equanimity. 
 
 An amusing sequel occurred when I passed on 
 from Datia to pay my next visit to the neighbour- 
 ing state of Orcha. In the course of my cere- 
 monial visit to the Maharaja of Orcha, who had 
 heard of the contretemps and was inspired by 
 feelings of amiable rivalry towards his princely 
 colleague, I explained to him what had happened. 
 
288 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 " At this stage," I said, " I found myself in the 
 melancholy position of sitting upon the head of 
 His Highness the Maharaja of Datia in the 
 ditch." " And a very proper position for Your 
 Excellency to occupy," was the immediate and 
 courtly rejoinder of the old chief, who, it was 
 suspected, viewed the mishap that had attended 
 his neighbour with some subdued satisfaction. 
 
VI 
 
 The Curiosity of Li Hung Chang 
 
 There are some things which men confess with ease^ and 
 others with difficulty. 
 
 Epictetus, " On Inconsistency/' cap. xxi. 
 
 TRAVELLERS in the East will be very 
 familiar with one aspect of Oriental men- 
 tality, which is always amusing and often of 
 value, if at times a little disconcerting. I allude 
 to the idiosyncrasy which prompts the Eastern, 
 even of the highest rank, to put and to answer, 
 with equal good manners, and with a total lack 
 of impertinence, the most searching and intimate 
 questions as to age, profession, family history and 
 income. 
 
 As a rule in the West you do not, on the first 
 occasion that you meet a stranger, ask him how 
 old he is, whether he is married, and if so how 
 long he has borne the yoke, what is the size of his 
 family, and what are the emoluments of his pro- 
 fession. There is a certain reserve about such 
 matters, the discussion or disclosure of which is 
 supposed to be the reward of intimacy and to 
 mark the later rather than the opening stages of 
 acquaintance. But the Eastern thinks and acts 
 quite otherwise. He wants to know what manner 
 of person he is encountering, and to place him 
 fairly and squarely in his normal environment. 
 
 289 
 
290 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 For this purpose it is important to learn the de- 
 tails of his domestic existence, when he entered 
 the world, what he has done since, what are his 
 present circumstances, and so forth. 
 
 The Oriental is much more concerned to ascer- 
 tain these elemental conditions than he is to ex- 
 change opinions or to analyse character. He is 
 not bad at the latter operation either, but it must 
 come in its proper place. Thus, in all my travels, 
 whether I was the guest of an Asiatic monarch, 
 or a Kurdish chieftain, or a Persian satrap 
 (though in the latter case the curiosity was apt 
 to be veiled by an almost Gallic polish of man- 
 ner), I was always prepared to be put through 
 my paces in this respect, and to reveal the fullest 
 details of my age and circumstances. I have 
 related elsewhere how much I fell in the estima- 
 tion of the Foreign Minister of Korea, when he 
 learned that, though an ex-Minister, I was not 
 married to a member of the British royal family! 
 
 Salary I found to be a perennial source of 
 interest. The Eastern governor — who lives as a 
 rule by successful spoliation of his subjects or 
 subordinates, and who regards office not as the 
 gratification of an honourable ambition, but as 
 the opportunity of replenishing a depleted ex- 
 chequer — always wanted to know what an Eng- 
 lish Minister or ruler received or did in analogous 
 conditions. What was his actual stipend? What 
 were his perquisites? Was office a convenient and 
 agreeable source of wealth? What powers did it 
 enable the occupant to exercise? And did he 
 
o 
 d 
 
 tSJ 
 
 o 
 
 > 
 o 
 
 !^ 
 
 W 
 H 
 W 
 
 [291 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 293 
 
 wield them, as was fit and proper, for his own 
 personal advantage? 
 
 Furthermore, family details never failed to in- 
 terest and enthuse. Exactly how old was the 
 visitor? How had he spent his life? How had he 
 fared in the marriage lottery? How many chil- 
 dren had he? What was he doing with them or 
 they with him? I ended by feeling not the smallest 
 resentment, but on the contrary a good deal of 
 mild pleasure, in communicating these details — 
 which seemed to place one on a footing of easy 
 familiarity with the interlocutor — and I developed 
 a laudable aptitude in putting the most penetrat- 
 ing questions in reply. Nor can I recall an occa- 
 sion on which any of these questions either on one 
 side or the other excited the smallest resentment, 
 while they frequently resulted in the exchange of 
 useful and diverting information. 
 
 I think, however, that among my hardiest inter- 
 rogators I must give the palm to the famous Chi- 
 nese statesman, Li Hung Chang. When I visited 
 Tientsin in 1892, he was Viceroy of Chihli, and 
 was already in somewhat advanced years, being 
 over seventy-one years of age. Nevertheless at 
 our interviews in his official yamen he inter- 
 rogated me with a pertinacity which excited my 
 warmest admiration; and I recall his long lean 
 figure (he was over six feet high) clad in a grey 
 silken robe with black silk cape, his little beady 
 eyes, his quizzical look, and the imperturbable 
 gravity with which he put to me the most search- 
 ing questions. 
 
294 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 A few years later he came to England, when 
 I was Under-Secretary in the Foreign Office to 
 Lord Salisbury, and it became my duty to con- 
 duct him to the House of Commons, which pro- 
 vided ample material for his rather mordant curi- 
 osity, and also to Hatfield for a garden-party. It 
 was on the latter occasion that he achieved what 
 I regarded as the greatest triumph in the par- 
 ticular line of inquiry of which I am here writing. 
 
 While we were being photographed on the ter- 
 race, he suddenly asked me once again how old I 
 was; and upon my replying that I was thirty-six 
 — " Dear me," he said, " you are exactly the same 
 age as the German Emperor." I acknowledged 
 the impeachment, whereupon he continued as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 Li Hung Chang: " The German Emperor, 
 however, has six sons. How many have you? " 
 
 Curzon: " I have only recently been married, 
 and I regret that so far I have none." 
 
 Li Hung Change, " Then what have you been 
 doing all this time? " 
 
 To this question I admit that I could not find, 
 nor even now can I suggest, an appropriate 
 answer. 
 
VII 
 
 The State Entry Into Koweit 
 
 They have their exits and their entrances. 
 
 Shakspeare, As You Like It, Act II., Sc. vii. 
 
 MY official entry into Koweit, at the head of 
 the Persian Gulf, in November 1903 was 
 of a character somewhat different from the less 
 orthodox entry into Kabul, which I have before 
 described. But it was not without its vicissitudes. 
 
 I was the first Viceroy of India to visit Koweit, 
 and the Sheikh Mubarrak, with whom I had re- 
 cently concluded a secret treaty of friendly alli- 
 ance on behalf of His Majesty's Government, 
 and was himself a striking and powerful type of 
 Arab chieftain, was anxious to treat me with be- 
 coming honour. 
 
 This desire on his part demanded a ceremonial 
 entry into the capital of his state; and in order 
 that this might be accomplished with becoming 
 display, it was necessary that, instead of landing 
 at the town itself, which is built on the shore of 
 the gulf, our party should be taken in boats to a 
 point about three miles away, where we could 
 land on a shelving spit of sand and be escorted 
 from thence to the town. As we neared the 
 landing-place I observed that the Sheikh with his 
 principal retainers and a great crowd of mounted 
 
 295 
 
296 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Arabs were assembled on the shore to greet me, 
 and that in front of the crowd was a small open 
 vehicle or victoria, drawn by a pair of Arab 
 horses and evidently intended for the accommo- 
 dation of the Sheikh and myself. I was informed 
 that this was the first time that such a vehicle had 
 ever been seen at Koweit; and that it had been 
 specially ordered by the Sheikh from Bombay to 
 do honour to his visitor. 
 
 Accordingly after exchanging the customary 
 salaams, the Sheikh and I entered the equipage, 
 which set off at a brisk trot for the town, escorted 
 by the camel corps of twelve to twenty men, and 
 by some two hundred to two hundred and fifty 
 horsemen. Some of these wore helmets and coats 
 of chain mail. The Sheikh's flag, with the timely 
 inscription " Trust in God " sewn in white on a 
 scarlet background, was carried in front. 
 
 Meanwhile the whole of my staff, including the 
 British Minister at Teheran, who accompanied 
 me, were provided with Arab mounts, the tall 
 peaked saddles of which, with the shovel stirrups, 
 are not always conducive to the comfort or even 
 to the security of riders unused to them. 
 
 However, every one climbed up in due course, 
 and the procession moved off in a cloud of dust. 
 At this stage it apparently became necessary for 
 the cavalry escort to express their rejoicing not 
 merely by war-cries of the most blood-curdling 
 description, but by firing ball cartridge promis- 
 cuously either in the air or into the ground at the 
 feet of their prancing steeds. Others hurled their 
 
[297 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 299 
 
 spears frantically into the air. The result was the 
 wildest confusion. The air resounded with the 
 fusillade, and the ground was a whirlwind of 
 careering horses and yelling cavaliers and spurt- 
 ing sand. Some of the horsemen were bare- 
 headed, and their plaited hair streamed in the 
 wind as they dashed along; others wore flowing 
 garments of orange and red and golden brown. 
 The chief was clad in a broad-striped robe. 
 
 In the midst of the scene I saw the form of the 
 British Minister shot clean over the head of his 
 steed and deposited with no small violence upon 
 the ground. Nothing daunted, he courageously 
 resumed his seat and, amid a hail of bullets, con- 
 tinued the uneven tenor of his way. 
 
 As we approached the town, we passed through 
 the entire population (the bazaars having been 
 closed for the day), who were ranged in two rows 
 on either side of our route. The prevailing colour 
 of their men's dress was dark brown, but all wore 
 the white Arab hejfieli with the twisted camel hair 
 band round the head. Behind them stood the 
 women, closely veiled and with their figures con- 
 cealed in dark indigo cloaks of an almost funereal 
 appearance, below which were skirts of gaudy cot- 
 ton prints. As the cortege passed they indulged 
 in a shrill wail or series of ululations, which might 
 have been mistaken for a dirge of exceptional 
 poignancy, were it not that, as I learned, the 
 sounds were intended to express the extremity of 
 rapture and joy. 
 
 Thus escorted, we presently reached the so- 
 
300 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 called palace of the Sheikh, a modest edifice, built 
 for the most part of sun-dried bricks and situated 
 in a very narrow street or lane of the town. We 
 climbed to the first floor of this building for the 
 exchange of the customary courtesies, accom- 
 panied by coffee and cigarettes, of Arab etiquette. 
 
 As I sat there, bandying civilities with my host, 
 a sound of violent rending and tearing, accom- 
 panied by loud shouts and plunging of horse- 
 hoofs, broke the solemn hush of our palaver. Not 
 a word was said on the subject. But when the 
 interview was over and I descended to* the street, 
 only the fragments of the Bombay victoria, re- 
 duced to matchwood, littered the ground, and the 
 steeds had vanished! It appeared that these ani- 
 mals, who had never before been harnessed to a 
 vehicle, had made up for their orderly behaviour, 
 while conducting the Sheikh and myself from the 
 landing-place to the town, by kicking the some- 
 what flimsy construction to pieces as soon as they 
 were left alone. I doubt if a victoria has been 
 seen in Koweit since. 
 
 We had to feel our way very gingerly, on foot, 
 over heaps of ordure and amid indescribable filth 
 to a nearer point of embarkation 'for our vessel, 
 which was lying at anchor at a considerable dis- 
 tance in the shallow waters of the gulf. Thus 
 began and thus ignobly ended my Viceregal entry 
 into Koweit. 
 
[301 
 
VIII 
 
 The Captured Colonel 
 
 But that I am forbid 
 To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
 I could a tale unfold. 
 
 Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act. I., Sc. iv. 
 
 WHEN I was at Cairo in the winter of 1882 
 I encountered an English colonel who 
 was for a brief period the hero or the victim of a 
 diplomatic incident that earned him no small noto- 
 riety, and involved Her Majesty's Government in 
 a pecuniary sacrifice which they were very loth to 
 accept. The colonel, who was the owner of a 
 
 small property near L in Turkish territory, 
 
 was seized and carried off at night by a party of 
 Greek brigands under a famous desperado, and 
 was held in captivity, as he told me, for a period 
 of thirty-two days. The bandits declined to sur- 
 render their prize for any less sum than £12,000, 
 with a number of gold watches and chains thrown 
 in; and this ransom, which the colonel was alone 
 in not regarding as excessive, had to be paid by 
 Her Majesty's Government. Indeed the chief of 
 the band sent a message to the British consul, who 
 was conducting the negotiations for the release, 
 which contained the conventional but still for- 
 midable threat: " If the ransom is not paid to the 
 last farthing, I shall send in six days his nose, in 
 
 303 
 
304 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 seven days his ears, and on the eighth day his 
 head." In these circumstances Her Majesty's 
 Government had no alternative but to surrender. 
 With commendable astuteness, however, they re- 
 imbursed themselves by deducting the sum from 
 the revenues of Cyprus, which were at that time 
 paid over to the Turkish Government. 
 
 As such, the transaction was one that gave a 
 certain degree of satisfaction to all parties. The 
 colonel regained his freedom, and was, so to 
 speak, weighed, as certain Eastern potentates are 
 in the habit of being, against his weight in gold. 
 The British Government extricated their repre- 
 sentative without being really out of pocket. The 
 Turks, although penalised, nevertheless escaped 
 the indignity of having to make a cash payment. 
 The brigands got the loot and the watches which 
 they desired. 
 
 But one thing rankled in the breast of the 
 colonel. The latter, who was an unmarried man, 
 professed the greatest indignation that the an- 
 nouncement in the Press, circulated to the four 
 corners of Europe, had been couched in the fol- 
 lowing terms: 
 
 Le Colonel et sa femme ont ete pris par les brigands. 
 
 This aspersion upon his moral character and upon 
 
 the austerity of his domestic existence at L 
 
 would, he thought, greatly damage him in the eyes 
 of the Government whom he served. He spent a 
 good deal of time, therefore, in assuring me, as I 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 305 
 
 have no doubt he had done to his official superiors, 
 that the phrase in question was a misprint, and 
 that what had really been sent out was the fol- 
 lowing: 
 
 Le Colonel en sa ferme a ete pris par les brigands. 
 
 I believe that the colonel was innocent. On the 
 other hand, there was a strong party, indeed the 
 majority, who persisted in holding, in spite of his 
 asseverations, that the printer had been maligned, 
 and that the revised version rendered insufficient 
 homage to the traditions and the practices of the 
 East. 
 
IX 
 
 How I Woj^ A Vote 
 
 Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it after 
 many days. — Ecclesiastes xi. 1. 
 
 WHEN I was standing for Parliament in 
 South Derbyshire in the General Election 
 of 1885 — a contest in which I was handsomely 
 beaten, but in which every vote might have been 
 of value — my agent at Derby received a telegram 
 from an unknown person a few days before the 
 poll, which contained these mysterious words: 
 
 " Is the Mr. Curzon who is standing for South 
 Derbyshire the gentleman who travelled in a first- 
 class railway carriage from Catania to Girgenti 
 on May 1, 1885? If so I will come and vote for 
 him." 
 
 My agent, who had never heard either of 
 Catania or Girgenti, brought me this cryptic 
 message, as to the significance of which I was 
 myself a little uncertain. It was true that in the 
 spring of that year, after climbing Etna, I had 
 proceeded from Catania to Girgenti by train. 
 But I could not for the moment recall any more 
 precise memory of the journey. Nor had I my 
 
 306 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 307 
 
 diary with me to refresh my recollection of what 
 might have passed. 
 
 The telegram was answered in the affirmative, 
 and I forgot all about it, until on the polling day, 
 happening to go into the agent's office, I found a 
 gentleman there who acknowledged the authorship 
 of the message and revealed his identity. Then 
 and there I remembered an English traveller who 
 with his wife had journeyed with me in the same 
 compartment, and with whom I had entered into 
 conversation. He had apparently seen my name 
 on a label on my hat-box, and reading in the 
 papers that a Conservative candidate of the same 
 name was standing for South Derbyshire, for 
 which he happened to possess a vote, and being a 
 sound Conservative himself, he had on receiving 
 my agent's reply to his first inquiry decided to 
 come down and give me his support. 
 
 Gladly did we exchange salutations and revive 
 the memories of that half -forgotten day. And 
 then it was that I learned what had won the 
 favour of my unknown friend. 
 
 "Do you not remember," he said, " that as the 
 train wound in and out of the parched Sicilian 
 valleys, the young man with the hat-box kept 
 pointing to the sister heights of Castro Giovanni 
 and Calascibetta, rearing their magnificent natural 
 bastions, crowned with the ruins of feudal towers, 
 high into the air; how he told us that Castro 
 Giovanni, the nobler of the two elevations, 2600 
 feet above the sea, was the Enna of the Ancients, 
 where Proserpine had been carried off by Pluto; 
 
308 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 how the young man quoted Cicero, who had thus 
 described it: 
 
 Enna est loco perexcelso atque edito, quo in summo 
 est aequata agro planities, et aquae perennes; tota vero 
 ab omni aditu circumcisa atque dirempta est; quam 
 circa lacus lucique sunt plurimi et laetissimi flores omni 
 tempore anni; 
 
 how he said that Newman in Callista had referred 
 to its castled splendour; and how it reminded him 
 somewhat of Acrocorinthos hfting its battlemented 
 crest above the waters of the Gulf of Corinth ; and 
 also of the fortress Peak of Banias or Caesarea 
 Philippi in Palestine; and how in those now deso- 
 late surroundings — ^the result of sm^face mining — 
 Proserpine would hardly have been tempted to 
 stray in search of flowers, and the hunting hounds 
 could scarcely have lost their scent (as the legend 
 goes) for the exceeding fragrance of the sur- 
 roundings. Do you not further remember," he 
 said, " as the train twisted in and out, now showing 
 the great summit on one side now on the other, 
 how the young man with the hat-box kept jump- 
 ing up and insisting that his fellow-passengers 
 should share his enthusiasm, and exchange seats 
 with him, and enjoy the spectacle?" 
 
 Later on I looked up my diary, and there indeed 
 was the reference, and there lay the explanation 
 of the vote so easily and gaily won ; and therefrom 
 sprang a friendship with my companion of the 
 Sicilian railway carriage, whose vote was ever at 
 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 309 
 
 the disposal of the Conservative candidate for 
 South Derbyshire, doomed in the great majority 
 of cases, I regret to say, to be not more fortunate 
 in his electoral fortunes than the young man with 
 the hat-box was in November 1885. 
 
Ten 
 THE SINGING SANDS 
 
Ten 
 THE SINGING SANDS 
 
 And even things without life giving sounds whether pipe or 
 harp^ except they give a distinction in the sounds, how shall 
 it be known what is piped or harped? — 1 Cor. xiv. 7. 
 
 Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas. 
 
 Virgil, Georgic ii., 490. 
 
 IN the " Voice of Memnon " I alluded to the 
 phenomenon known in different places and 
 parts of the world as the Singing Sands, Sound- 
 ing Sands, Rumbling Sands, Musical Sands, 
 Barking Sands, Moving Sands, i.e., cases in which 
 certain sands, either when set in motion, or even 
 in some cases when apparently quiescent, give 
 forth sounds as of music which are sometimes 
 audible at a great distance. In former days 
 these tales, when they appeared in the pages of 
 mediaeval travellers, were attributed to local 
 superstition or to an excited imagination, and 
 were not supposed to have any scientific basis. 
 In the course of my travels I have made a study 
 of these cases, about which I have found a good 
 deal not only of literary inexactitude, but of 
 scientific 'uncertainty, to prevail; and as the rec- 
 ords of the phenomena in question are widely 
 scattered and accessible to but few, and as no 
 attempt, so far as I know, has ever been made to 
 
 313 
 
314 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 collect and correlate them all, or to arrive at a 
 definite classification, it may be worth while to set 
 down the results of my own researches. The sub- 
 ject is one which, while severely scientific in one 
 aspect, is in another full of a strange romance, 
 since the voice of the desert, speaking in notes now 
 as of harp strings, anon as of trumpets and drums, 
 and echoing down the ages, is invested with a 
 mystic fascination to which none can turn a deaf 
 ear. 
 
 There has been a general inclination to confuse 
 with each other all cases of Musical Sands, and 
 to assume that they are produced by similar 
 causes or can be covered by a single definition. 
 The very reverse is the fact; for although a cer- 
 tain acoustic property is common to all these 
 cases, it is so varying a character, is created in cir- 
 cumstances so widely different, and is attributable 
 to such divergent causes, that no one generalisa- 
 tion admits of being applied. I shall distinguish 
 quite definitely between the singing sand-hills or 
 slopes or dunes, and the sand beaches that also 
 produce musical sounds. The former are mainly 
 to be found in Asia, though examples have been 
 reported in Africa and America also. The latter 
 are much more widely diffused. It is about the 
 Singing Hills of Asia that the atmosphere of mys- 
 tery principally clings, and here I shall let each 
 of the few travellers who have heard the music 
 speak in his own words, so that we may compare 
 their evidence before we attempt to form a con- 
 clusion. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 315 
 
 I. Musical Sand-hills 
 
 The Sounding Sands of Twnyang 
 
 If the sands of the desert speak, it were strange 
 indeed were their voice not heard in the illimitable 
 solitudes of Central Asia, where pilgrims for cen- 
 turies have wended their patient way across the 
 wastes, amid every variety of formation that sand, 
 under the influence of wind or climate, could 
 assume. It is with no surprise, therefore, that we 
 find the doyen of mediaeval travellers, Marco 
 Polo — who saw so much and heard so much more, 
 and who recorded both — when he crossed the 
 Great Gobi Desert, thus narrating his experience: 
 
 Sometimes you shall hear the sound of musical 
 instruments and still more commonly the sound of 
 drums/ 
 
 He does not actually say whether he heard the 
 desert music. But the inference is reasonable; 
 and if, as also seems probable, he is referring to a 
 particular spot, then it can hardly be other than 
 the celebrated Sounding Sand-hill near the Caves 
 of the Thousand Buddhas in Tunyang. 
 
 This phenomenon is the subject of frequent 
 mention in the works of early Chinese writers, 
 where it is commonly called Ming-sha-shan, or the 
 Rumbling Sand-hill. For instance, in the Tun 
 Huang Lu, one of the Chinese MSS. brought 
 
 1 Yule's Marco Polo, vol. ii., p. 203. London, 1874. 
 
316 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 back by Sir Aurel Stein from Tunyang, and dat- 
 ing from the ninth century a.d., we find the fol- 
 lowing passage: 
 
 The Hill of Sounding Sand is 10 U away from the 
 city. It stretches 80 U east and west, and 40 li north 
 and south, and it reaches a height of 500 feet in places. 
 The whole mass is made up entirely of pure sand. This 
 hill has strange supernatural qualities. Its peaks taper 
 up to a point, and between them there is a mysterious 
 hole which the sand has not been able to cover up. In 
 the height of summer the sand gives out sounds of itself, 
 and if trodden by men or horses the noise is heard many 
 tens of li away. It is customary on the tuan-wu day 
 (the Dragon festival on the fifth of the fifth moon) for 
 men and women from the city to clamber up to some of 
 the highest points and rush down again in a body, which 
 causes the sand to give forth a loud rumbling sound like 
 thunder. Yet when you come to look at it the next 
 morning the hill is found to be just as steep as before. 
 The ancients called this hill the Sounding Sand; they 
 deified the sand and worshipped it there.^ 
 
 Similar references are to be found in the Wu 
 Tai Shih, where the hill is described as " emitting, 
 summer and winter, a rumbling noise like thun- 
 der," and in another Chinese record, which says 
 that "when the weather is bright and sunny the 
 sand emits sounds which are heard in the city." 
 
 When Sir Aurel Stein himself visited this 
 
 'i- Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, pp. 43-44, January 1915. 
 Vide also Bretschneider's Mediaeval Researches, vol. ii., p. 216; 
 E^musat, Yille de Khotan, p. 77 ; and Palladius, Journal of the North 
 China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society^ N.S., vol. x., p. 5 (1875). 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 317 
 
 locality in 1907 he thus described the phe- 
 nomenon, situated on the shores of the Crescent 
 Lake, quite close to the caves: 
 
 The southern shore of the lake was occupied by a 
 number of picturesque Moslem temples rising on terraces 
 from the water's edge and decorated with a queer medley 
 of Buddhist and Taoist statues and frescoes. Just in 
 front of them and across the lake rose the famous 
 Resounding Sand-hill, often mentioned in old Chinese 
 records. ... I had ridden out to this secluded spot to 
 enjoy undisturbed work .... But Chiang, my only 
 companion, though he had brought out work too, could 
 not forego the temptation of climbing to the top of the 
 huge dune in his dainty velvet boots, just to make the 
 sand slide down from there and hear the " miraculous 
 rumbling " it produced. . . . We all duly heard the faint 
 sound like that of distant carts rumbling, and Chiang 
 felt elated and put it down in his journal.^ 
 
 The sound, it will be noted, is here likened not 
 so much to that of any musical instrument as to 
 a distant rumbling noise, arising clearly from the 
 displacement of the particles or grains of sand. 
 
 Reg-i'Ruwan, or the Moving Sands of Kabul 
 
 In the generation immediately succeeding 
 Marco Polo, i,e,, in the early fourteenth century, 
 another European traveller^ the inimitable Friar 
 Odoric, of Pordenone in Italy, also made his way 
 
 1 Ruins of Desert Cathay, by M. Aurel Stein, vol. ii., p. 161. 
 London, 1912. 
 
318 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 across the Asiatic Continent and also heard the 
 Singing Sands. His description is more precise: 
 
 Another great and terrible thing I saw; for as I went 
 through a certain valley which lieth by the River of 
 Delights, I saw therein many dead corpses lying. And 
 I heard also therein sundry kinds of music but chiefly 
 nakers,^ which were marvellously played upon. And so 
 great was the noise thereof that very great fear came 
 upon me. Now this valley is seven or eight miles long; 
 and if any unbeliever enter therein he quitteth it never 
 again, but perisheth incontinently. Yet I hesitated not 
 to go in that I might see once for all what the matter 
 was. And when I had gone in I saw, as I have said, such 
 numbers of corpses as no one without seeing it could 
 deem credible. And at one side of the valley, in the very 
 rock, I beheld as it were the face of a man, very great 
 and terrible, so very terrible indeed that for my exceeding 
 great fear my spirit seemed to die in me. . . . And so 
 I came at length to the other end of the valley, and there 
 I ascended a hill of sand and looked around me. But 
 nothing could I descry, only I still heard those nakers to 
 play, which were played so marvellously." ^ 
 
 Making every allowance for the superstitious 
 inaccuracies of the Friar, there can, I think, be 
 no doubt that the great image by which he was so 
 terrified was one of the colossal rock idols of 
 Bamian, hewn in the walls of a gorge in the main 
 Hindu Kush range, to the north-west of Kabul 
 — they are images of Buddha — and that the hill 
 
 i/.e., nagaras, or kettledrums. 
 
 ^Cathay and the Way Thither (Hakluyt Society), vol. ii., pp. 
 262-5. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 319 
 
 of sand which gave forth the music of drums was 
 the Reg-i-Ruwan or Moving Sand, some forty 
 miles to the north of that city, on the slope of the 
 Paghman range. The corpses which he saw were 
 doubtless those of the hapless travellers who had 
 been robbed and slain by the bandits who infested 
 that region. This is the first definite reference by 
 a European traveller to the Afghan Singing 
 Sands. It is true that the Reg-i-Ruwan is not so 
 near to the Bamian Gorge as the words would 
 seem to imply; but in the case of a traveller com- 
 ing to Kabul from the North or from Afghan 
 Turkestan, the direction and order are correctly 
 given. 
 
 The Emperor Baber, who rode, and drank, and 
 hunted in the neighbourhood of his capital, Kabul, 
 and who had an eye for every wonder or beauty 
 of nature, was not likely to be unaware of so 
 strange a scene. He was more than once at 
 Reg-i-Ruwan, where indeed he spent Christmas 
 Day, 1519. He did not apparently hear the 
 music, perhaps because he was not there at the 
 right season of the year, but he repeated the 
 popular belief: 
 
 Between these plains is a small hill in which there is 
 a line of sandy ground, reaching from the top to the 
 bottom of the hill. They called it Khwajeh-reg-rewan. 
 They say that in the summer season the sound of drums 
 and nagarets issues from this sand.^ 
 
 '^Memoirs of Bdher, p. 146, translated by J. Leyden and W. 
 Erskine. London, 1887. The original Turki has duhul, i.e., drum, 
 and nagara, i.e., kettledrum. 
 
320 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Then ensues a long gap in our records until, in 
 the second quarter of the nineteenth century, the 
 political and commercial interests of the Govern- 
 ment of India were responsible for the appear- 
 ance at Kabul of a number of British officers or 
 travellers, who were allowed by Dost Mohammed 
 a freedom of movement about his country which 
 nearly a century later is still denied to the for- 
 eigner. The most famous of these men was Cap- 
 tain, afterwards Sir Alexander Burnes, destined 
 to be murdered at Kabul only a few years later. 
 Among the others who were there at the same 
 time were G. T. Vigne, the traveller, Charles 
 Masson, the correspondent of the East India 
 Company, Lieutenant John Wood, the explorer 
 of the sources of the Oxus, and Dr. P. B. Lord, 
 the companion of the latter in his journey. 
 
 The first of these in point of time to refer to 
 the Reg-i-Ruwan was G. T. Vigne, who with 
 Masson was in the neighbourhood of the spot in 
 August 1836, though I think it is quite clear from 
 their joint descriptions that they did not actually 
 visit the sand-hill or test the sound, much less hear 
 the music. 
 
 Vigne wrote as follows: 
 
 On a detached and comparatively low hill a whitish 
 streak is observed, extending from the summit to the 
 foot of it. This is the Reg-Ruwan, or Running Sand, 
 mentioned by Baber. The natives say that it runs up 
 again, and that it is never diminished; and that there 
 is a cave at its foot, where noises are heard, and into 
 which the sand falls and disappears. It may^be partly 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 321 
 
 owing to the decomposition of granite or other rocks, 
 or to the peculiar shape or situation of the hill, which 
 collects there the particles of sand, taken up by the 
 mountain gusts, or perhaps to both these reasons, or 
 neither.^ 
 
 It will be observed that in the above passage 
 Vigne is much more concerned with the phe- 
 nomenon of the perpetual re-creation of the sand- 
 hill in this isolated spot than with the noise, which 
 indeed he does not directly connect with the move- 
 ment of the sand. His companion Masson simi- 
 larly connects the sound with the cave and with 
 the Mohammedan superstitions about the latter: 
 
 At the hill of Regh Rawan, remarkable for the bed of 
 sand lying upon its southern face, which gives it both its 
 name and singular appearance, is a subterranean cave 
 which has a descent by hewn and artificial stairs, and 
 may therefore be supposed to mean something more than 
 the ordinary rock cave. It has never been duly explored, 
 and there might be danger in the attempt to descend into 
 it. The Mahommedans have made it a ziarat, and have 
 an idea that it is the spot where their expected Imam 
 Medi will issue upon earth; and they believe that on 
 Roz Juma, or Sacred Friday, the sound of nagaras, or 
 drums, may be heard in it.^ 
 
 The local belief about the Mahdi would appear 
 to have either started from or to have given rise 
 
 1 Personal Narrative of a Visit to Ohuzni, Kahul am,d Afghanistan, 
 p. 219. London, 1840. 
 
 2 Narrative of Journeys in Afghanista/ifh, etc., vol. iii., p. 167. 
 London, 1844. 
 
322 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 to another incident which is thus reported by 
 Vigne (p. 223) : 
 
 Some years ago a fanatic from the Kohistan took up 
 his abode in a cave near, I believe, the Reg-Ruwan, and 
 said that he was Imaum Mihedi, who is expected by the 
 Mussulmen to appear at the end of the world. He col- 
 lected upwards of 20,000 men, many of whom dressed 
 themselves as birds and beasts, and marched towards 
 Kabul. They were met and defeated by the troops of 
 the Vizier Futteh Khan. 
 
 Much more exact is the description given by 
 Burnes himself, accompanied by a rough litho- 
 graphic illustration, which depicts his native escort 
 scrambling up the face of the sand-hill in order 
 to evoke the music: 
 
 The description of Baber, though it appears marvel- 
 lous, is accurate. Reg-Ruwan is about 40 miles north 
 of Kabul towards Hindu Kosh, and near the base of the 
 mountains. Two ridges of hills, detached from the rest, 
 run in and meet each other; at the apex of this a sheet 
 of sand, as pure as that on the seashore, with a slope of 
 about 40°, forms the face of a hill to its summit, which 
 is about 400 feet high. When this sand is set in motion 
 by a body of people, who slide down it, a sound is emitted. 
 On the first trial we distinctly heard two loud, hollow 
 sounds such as would be given by a large drum. On 
 two subsequent attempts we heard nothing, so that per- 
 haps the sand requires to be for a time settled before 
 the curiosity is displayed. There is an echo in this place, 
 and the inhabitants have a belief that the sounds are 
 only heard on Friday, when the Saint of Reg-Ruwan, 
 
[323 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 325 
 
 who is interred hard by, permits ! The locality of the 
 sand is remarkable, there being none other in the neigh- 
 bourhood. Reg-Ruwan faces the south, but the wind of 
 Purwan (bad-i-Purwan) blows from the north for the 
 greater part of the year, and has probably deposited 
 it by an eddy. Such is the violence of this wind that 
 all the trees in the neighbourhood bend to the south, 
 and a field, after a few years, requires to be recleared of 
 the pebbles and stones which the loss of soil lays bare. 
 The mountains here are generally composed of granite 
 or mica, but at Reg-Ruwan we had sandstone, lime, 
 slate and quartz. . . . Reg-Ruwan is seen from a great 
 distance, and the situation of the sand is so curious 
 that it might almost be imagined the hill had been 
 cut in two, and that it had gushed forth as from a 
 sand-bag, though the wind could not have brought it 
 together.^ 
 
 Lieutenant John Wood's account closely fol- 
 lows that of Burnes, and he and his companion, 
 Dr. P. B. Lord, appear to have visited the spot 
 in the same month (October 1837), though not, it 
 would seem, as members of the same party as 
 Burnes. We read in Wood's book: 
 
 At the supper end of Koh Daman, on its eastern side, 
 the face of the hills, at one particular spot, is covered 
 with fine sand, called Reig-Rawan, or the Moving Sand. 
 To this the natives of the valley ascribe the utterance 
 of strange unearthly sounds, and by their marvellous 
 relations induced us to visit the spot. The Moving Sand 
 rests upon a base of 100 yards wide, and stretches up the 
 
 1 Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal^ April 1838, p. 324-5. 
 
326 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 face of the rock for 250 yards, with an acclivity of abouK 
 45 . At 3 P.M. the temperature of the sand on the surface 
 was 103°, while at the depth of 10 inches it was only 75°. 
 Looking down from the top of this sandy, inclined plain, 
 it is seen to lie in a hollow of the rock fronting west- 
 south-west. The formation of the adjoining rocks are 
 limestone, and a loose, conglomerate sandstone. The first 
 is both fractured and calcined, and the same appearance 
 is observed at other places along the side of the valley, 
 but is always local: that bordering the Moving Sand 
 is strictly so. From Reig-Rawan there is no other sand 
 deposit visible, though further south, and on the east 
 side of the valley, there are one or two smaller strips, 
 but which are not asserted to be vocal. The west side of 
 Koh Daman is composed of granite, and the prevailing 
 wind is from the north, but no sand is likely to come 
 from either of these directions. From the known pro- 
 pensity of the ignorant to exaggerate everything con- 
 nected with supposed supernatural agency, we did not 
 come to the place very confident believers in the current 
 tales of Reig-Rawan. However, we did as we were 
 directed, and sent six men to the top of the sandy strip 
 while we took up a position in the most favourable place 
 to hear any noise that might be emitted. The party 
 above came trampling down, and continued their march 
 to the foot of the inclined plain; but without eliciting 
 the slightest sound. This was repeated again and again, 
 but only once with any success. The sound then heard 
 was like that of a distant drum, mellowed by softer 
 music. The secret of Reig-Rawan is, I should imagine, 
 that of the Whispering Gallery. The slightest indenta- 
 tion in the sand is immediately filled up by the fall of 
 the particles above. Moving waves are thus produced 
 by the heavy tramp of a descending party; and the 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 327 
 
 rustle of the dry sand is condensed and reverberated by 
 the circular conformation of the rocks around/ 
 
 Wood's companion, the Doctor, was more brief: 
 
 On our way back through the plain of Koh-i-Daman 
 we paid a visit to Reg-rowan (the Flowing Sand) which 
 has long been an object of wonder and veneration to the 
 natives. It is simply a bed of loose sand on the slope 
 of the hill, which, if set in motion by any cause, as by 
 the wind or a man, rolling down from the top, produces 
 lengthened sonorous vibrations not unlike those of the 
 string of a bass viol.^ 
 
 Wood, in the passage above quoted, referred also 
 to the gardens of Istalif — the favourite holiday 
 haunt of the Emperor Baber, who wrote of it: 
 " A large river runs through it, and on either side 
 are gardens, green, gay and beautiful," and to the 
 Pan j shir River in the same neighbourhood; and 
 I have little doubt that here or hereabouts we have 
 the original of Odoric's " River of Delights "; for 
 the mountain sides and valleys at this spot have 
 always admittedly been the beauty spots of 
 Afghanistan. 
 
 But to return to the Sounding Sands. Wood's 
 explanation, as we have seen, is that the sounds 
 were produced by the movement of particles of 
 sand, disturbed either by the trampling of feet, or 
 by some other artificial cause, and rustling as they 
 fell. To this I shall revert later. 
 
 1 Captain J. V/ood, A Journey to the Source of the River Oxus, pp. 
 114-15. London, 1872. 
 
 2 J. A. S. B., June 1838, p. 537. 
 
328 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 When I was at Kabul in 1894 I would have 
 sought the Amir's permission to visit the Reg-i- 
 Ruwan, had it been earlier in the year. As it was, 
 I asked him about it. He, was not in the least at 
 a loss for a reply, which was of a severely ration- 
 alistic character, and was marked by his usual 
 contempt for the behefs or fears of his own peo- 
 ple. I was the first person, he said, who had ever 
 asked him a question about the Reg-i-Ruwan, 
 and, having made a special study of the subject, 
 he would therefore gladly explain it to me. 
 
 " The sand had nothing to do with the sound. 
 The people in the neighbourhood and even at 
 Kabul all believed that the sounds were of super- 
 natural origin, and that within an adjoining cave 
 in the mountains horsemen were shoeing their 
 horses and beating their drums; and that from 
 this recess a new prophet would presently come 
 forth to restore the true faith throughout the 
 world and annihilate the infidel.^ But this was 
 not at all the case, and the explanation of the 
 sound, which he had heard himself, was quite dif- 
 ferent. There was a shelving face of rock, which 
 was so covered with sand as to constitute a steep 
 sand slope. About half-way down this slope there 
 was an orifice or cavern in the rock, running un- 
 derground for a long distance. On the left side 
 of the slope, at a little distance, were some more 
 high rocks, in which there were similar cavities, at 
 a place called Parwan.^ It was only when the 
 
 1 This is identical with Masson's story. 
 
 2 Masson also mentions the caves at Purwan, vol. iii., p. 166. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 329 
 
 wind was blowing from the latter orifices, and 
 impinged upon the mouth of the orifice in Reg-i- 
 Ruwan, that then, being whirled round and round 
 in the mouth and interior of the cave, it produced 
 the humming sound which had been mistaken 
 for drums and trumpets. When blowing from 
 Parwan the wind made a whistling sound; but 
 when it entered the hole in Reg-i-Ruwan then it 
 hummed. From a distance of ten miles he had 
 first discovered this explanation with a telescope! 
 Then he had been up to the place and had posted 
 men to wait and see. They reported that only 
 when the wind blew from that quarter was the 
 sound heard, and the greater the wind the louder 
 the sound. But if there was no wind there was 
 no sound heard at all." 
 
 For his own part, the Amir added, so useful was 
 the sand for building, and so useless for musical 
 purposes, that he was now bringing it down to 
 Kabul to make bricks and mortar. 
 
 I have had a renewed investigation made of the 
 Reg-i-Ruwan in the present summer (1923) by 
 the good offices of the reigning Amir of Afghan- 
 istan and the British Resident at Kabul, for the 
 special purposes of this volume, and I add the 
 result of the investigations of the latter (Colonel 
 Humphrys) in his own words. He spent the day 
 of June 24th at Reg-i-Ruwan, and took the photo- 
 graph which is reproduced here, and in which the 
 little figures at the base of the sand-slope are men : 
 
 The range in which the moving sand is situated is 
 
330 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 semicircular in shape, with a concave face towards the 
 south, and is an outcrop of the main Hindu Kush range, 
 with which its greatest length — about half a mile — is 
 parallel, running roughly east to west. It lies about 
 40 miles due north of Kabul, and three-quarters of a 
 mile to the north-east of the village of Khwaja Muham- 
 mad. Height of base, according to the aneroid, 4950 
 feet above sea-level. Average height of the reef, 600 
 feet above the Pan j shir plain. Formation of range, lime- 
 stone, combined with some volcanic rock. 
 
 The Reg-i-Ruwan lies near the western extremity of 
 the reef, faces due south, and is protected by the western 
 wall of the semicircle from the direct impact of the 
 Parawan wind, which blows with terrific force in the 
 summer months from Parawan (or Jebel-us-Siraj ) , situ- 
 ated some ten miles away, as the crow flies, to the north- 
 west. It may be conjectured that the western extremity 
 of the reef, although it breaks the direct impact of this 
 wind, gives rise to an eddy which the vacuum caused 
 by the air rising from the extremely hot sheet of sand 
 would draw upwards and might thus carry the sand 
 from the bottom towards the top. This, according to 
 local gossip, is the movement by which the bulk of the 
 sand-slope is maintained. The angle of the sand-slope 
 was measured to be 33% degrees. Its shape is narrow- 
 est at the top, broadening towards the bottom, regularity 
 being impaired on the eastern side of the sand-bank by 
 an outcrop of rock which has been enlarged by an artificial 
 platform used on the occasion of fairs. The sand does 
 not run to the top of the reef but only about two-thirds 
 of the height. The vertical height from the top of sand- 
 slope to the bottom was shown by the aneroid to be 
 430 feet. The sand is formed of minute particles, appar- 
 ently by decomposition from the surrounding rock. It 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 331 
 
 is white at the top, yellow at the western side of the 
 base, and streaked with black on the eastern side. A her 
 tree (zizyphus jujuba), plainly visible in the photograph, 
 flourishes about halfway up the sand-slope close to the 
 eastern edge, and another ber tree of massive propor- 
 tions stands on the platform referred to above. There 
 are some smaller sand deposits at the eastern extremity 
 of the reef, facing north-west, and therefore meeting the 
 full force of the wind, and on the northern face of the 
 range to the south-east sand deposits of some consider- 
 able size could also be seen. None of these sands, how- 
 ever, possess the reputation of moving. There are no 
 caves in the reef itself, but in the shrine of Muhammad 
 Hanifi, some 500 yards from the foot of the sand-slope, 
 is an artificial shaft which, about 15 feet below the sur- 
 face, branches into two smaller tunnels, one reported by 
 the custodian of the shrine to lead to the moving sand 
 and the other to Ghazni! Both tunnels were obstructed 
 by falls of earth. Access was gained to the tomb of 
 Muhammad Hanifi by means of rough stairs cut in the 
 clay. Length of sand-slope from top to bottom is about 
 800 feet, and greatest breadth 320 feet. 
 
 There was practically no wind on the 24th June when 
 the experiments were made. Men were sent to the top 
 of the sand-slope and descended several times at varying 
 speeds. As the sand became dislodged by their move- 
 ments, it flowed down in parallel rectangular streams : the 
 collapsing edge gradually worked upwards, and the down- 
 ward flow continued for several minutes after the sand 
 had been disturbed. These streams developed no lateral 
 spread beyond three feet, and emitted a rustling sound 
 which was faintly audible up to a distance of twenty yards. 
 
 The sand on the surface at midday was painfully hot 
 to the feet, even through a boot, but about six inches 
 
332 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 below the surface it was saturated with moisture. The 
 Afghan villagers stated that no rain had fallen in the 
 locality for two months, and it seems possible that by the 
 end of the summer, which is practically rainless, the sand 
 grains would become incoherent to a considerable depth, 
 and, according to the conjectures of former observers, 
 would then be more likely to possess a sonorous quality. 
 All the local people asserted that the sand produced 
 a sound like the beating of drums {nagaras) on certain 
 occasions. Some said that these occasions were limited 
 to Fridays, but the majority stated that the phenomenon 
 occurred capriciously about ten or twelve times a year 
 without regard, to the season and frequently without the 
 assistance of wind or other extraneous agency. They 
 insisted that, if the sand was carried by the wind or 
 otherwise to a distance from the slope, it invariably found 
 its way back to Reg-i-Ruwan during the night. This 
 was due to a special sanctity which belonged to the place. 
 I was informed by the Governor of Kohistan, who met 
 me on my way back to Jebel-us-Siraj , that the late Amir 
 HabibuUa was very interested in the phenomenon and 
 had paid seven visits to Reg-i-Ruwan but had not been 
 fortunate enough to hear the music. 
 
 Colonel Humphrys, it will be observed was un- 
 successful in his experiment; but he intends to 
 pay another visit to Reg-i-Ruwan later in the 
 summer, when the sand may be drier, and the 
 chances of success improved. I am afraid that his 
 description completely disposes of the too fanciful 
 explanation of my friend the Amir, for the cave, 
 so far from being in the reef, is more than a 
 quarter of a mile away; and the telescope of the 
 Amir must have been a very astonishing instru- 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 333 
 
 ment if it did not enable him to discover this fact. 
 No European would appear to have visited Reg-i- 
 Ruwan since 1837, but it is evident not merely 
 that the tradition survives but that the sands still 
 speak. 
 
 Kalah-i'Kahj Seistan. 
 
 Pursuing my way westwards, the next case that 
 I take is that of the Moving and Musical Sand- 
 hill at Kalah-i-Kah in Afghan Seistan, which is 
 also called Reg-i-Ruwan. This place was well 
 known to the Arab geographers from early times. 
 Mukadessi, at the end of the tenth century, said 
 of it: 
 
 If water or any small object were thrown on the sand 
 of this hillock, a great noise was heard like a humming 
 sound, and very terrible to listen to.^ 
 
 In the next century Biruni wrote: 
 
 Further, there is a mountain between Herat and 
 Sijistan, in a sandy country, somewhat distant from the 
 road, where you hear a clear murmur and a deep sound 
 as soon as it is defiled by human excrements or urine.^ 
 
 These rather unsavoury details of course meant 
 no more than that the music was heard if a move- 
 ment were communicated to the sand-grains by 
 any form of human agency. 
 
 1 Descriptio imperii Moslemici. 
 
 2 Chronology of Ancient Nations, p. 235. Translation by Sachaus. 
 London, 1879. 
 
334 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 By far the fullest account of this phenomenon 
 is, however, that which appeared in the records of 
 Sir Frederic Goldsmid's Mission to settle the 
 boundary between Persian and Afghan Seistan in 
 1870-1872. It was in March 1872 that the Mis- 
 sion found itself at Kalah-i-Kah, five miles from 
 which in the direction of the Harut Rud stands 
 the famous ziarat^ or shrine, of Imam Zaid. The 
 account of this part of the Mission's work was 
 written by Major (afterwards Sir C.) Euan 
 Smith; but the member of the Mission who heard 
 the music was neither the writer, nor his chief, but 
 Captain Beresford Lovett, R.E. The place and 
 the sound are thus described:^ 
 
 This ^iarat which is called the Rig-i-Rawan, or Moving 
 Sand, is most remarkable and singular. At the extreme 
 west of the range of hills which has been described as 
 lying in a straight line due north of the Kala'h-i-Kah 
 district, is a hUl some 600 feet high and half a mile long. 
 The southern face of this hill to the very summit is cov- 
 ered with a drift of fine and very deep sand — ^which has 
 evidently been there for ages, as testified by the number 
 of large plants growing on its surface. None of the 
 adjacent hills have any trace whatever of sand-drift, and 
 the surface of the surrounding desert is hard and pebbly. 
 The westernmost portion of this elevated ground contains 
 the ziarat, and the natives say, and with reason and truth, 
 that at times the hill gives out a strange startling noise, 
 which they compare to the rolling of drums. Captain 
 Lovett, who was fortunate enough to hear it, describes 
 
 1 Eastern Persia, edited by Sir F. Goldsmid, vol. i., p. 327. Lon- 
 don, 2 vols., 1876. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 335 
 
 its effect upon him as like the wailing of an iEolian harp, 
 »or the sound occasioned by the vibration of several tele- 
 graph wires — very fine at first, but increasing every 
 moment in volume and intensity; and the secret strain 
 is said sometimes to last as long as an hour at a time. 
 The face of the hill is concave, its cavity is filled with the 
 sand, and underneath there appears to be a hard lime- 
 stone surface. It would be useless after a summary in- 
 spection to hazard an opinion as to the cause of the 
 remarkable sounds that proceed from the hill — ^but it is 
 noticeable that they may be produced by any large num- 
 ber of men, at the top, putting the sand in motion. It 
 should be remarked at the same time that the noise is 
 often heard in perfectly still weather, and when nobody 
 is near the hill; and it is singular also that the limit of 
 the sand at the bottom seems never to be encroached 
 upon by falling sand from the summit, though the face 
 of the hill and sand-drift is very steep. On watching the 
 sand this morning at the time he heard the sound, Captain 
 Lovett observed that its vibrations and the movements 
 of the pilgrims who had gone to the summit of the drift, 
 occurred at the same moment. The natives, of course, 
 ascribe miraculous properties to the hill. It is believed 
 to be the grave of the Imam Zaid, the grandson of Husain, 
 the son of Ali. Tradition says that being pursued by 
 his enemies, he came to this hill for refuge, was covered 
 one night by the miraculous sand-drift, and has never been 
 seen again. They say that the sand, thus miraculously 
 brought by heavenly aid, could be removed by no earthly 
 power, and that were any one impious enough to try it, 
 the sand would return of its own accord. They believe 
 the hill, like the ancient oracles, to give out warning 
 when anything important is going to happen in the dis- 
 trict. Thus, in the time when the Turkmans used to 
 
336 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 make their forays as far south as this, the hill always 
 gave warning the night before their arrival; and we are 
 assured that the arrival of our Mission was heralded by 
 the same sounds. The head of the district told us that 
 the noise could be heard in still weather at a distance 
 of ten miles; and Sayid Nur Muhammad Shah declares 
 he heard it distinctly last night at our camp five miles off. 
 Shia'hs and Sunnis alike, unable to contend against the 
 evidence of their ears, come to worship at this miraculous 
 spot, and here find a common ground on which they can 
 meet in amity. Obese Muhammadans do not generally 
 subject themselves to so severe a trial of faith as that 
 of visiting this particular Ziarat-gah. It is a very steep 
 climb for them to the commencement of the band of sand, 
 about 200 feet broad and nearly perpendicular; and as 
 they sink up to the thighs in this at every step, often 
 must they regret that the Imam could not have hid him- 
 self in a more accessible spot. The tomb is situated at 
 the top of the sand ridge, and it is in their descent that 
 the faithful are generally rewarded for the trouble they 
 have voluntarily undergone by hearing the miraculous 
 noise. Sardar Ahmad Khan, all his attendants, and a 
 great number of stalwart Afghans, went up the hill, and 
 we observed that they were more than half-an-hour get- 
 ting across the sand ; our more eff^eminate Tehran servants 
 did not seem to care to make the attempt. The base 
 of the hill is surrounded by graves of the faithful, who, 
 it is to be hoped, are not disturbed in their last sleep by 
 the unearthly warnings of the object of their devotion. 
 It is probable, after all, that science could give a very 
 simple explanation of the phenomena; but he would be 
 a bold man who tried to explain the same by natural 
 causes within a hundred miles of its influence. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 337 
 
 Dr. H. W. Belle w, who was a member of the 
 party, also heard the music: 
 
 The sand fills a wide concavity on the southern slope 
 of a base rocky ridge detached from the Cala Koh range, 
 and forms an isolated mass, as remarkable from its posi- 
 tion as from the sounds it emits when set in motion. As 
 we passed on, our late companions on the march toilfuUy 
 plodded their way up the sandy slope and the summit 
 of the hill. Their steps set the loose particles of sand 
 in motion, and their friction by some mysterious acoustic 
 arrangement produced a sound as of distant drums and 
 music, which we heard distinctly at the distance of a mile. 
 The sounds were not continuous, but were only now and 
 again caught by the ear and much resembled those pro- 
 duced by the ^olian harp or the wind playing on tele- 
 graph wires. These sounds are often emitted by the 
 action of the wind on the surface of the sand and at other 
 times without any assignable cause/ 
 
 Jehel Nahus, Sinai, 
 
 I now come to the particular phenomenon 
 which, owing to the greater accessibility and to 
 the fact that it has been visited and described by 
 a number of European travellers, has won the 
 widest reputation, and is commonly referred to 
 by geographers as the classical case of a musical 
 sand-hill. This is the Jebel Nakus,^ or Hill of 
 
 1 H. W. Bellew, From the Indus to the Tigris, p. 285. London, 1874. 
 
 2 Nakus is not a " bell " in our sense of the word. It is the wooden 
 board suspended horizontally which is struck by a hammer in Eastern 
 monasteries to summon the monks to prayer. In the Greek monas- 
 teries, where it is still employed, it is called " semandron." 
 
338 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 the Bell or Gong, in the Peninsula of Sinai on the 
 eastern shore of the Red Sea. The following is, 
 to the best of my knowledge, a complete list of 
 those who have left descriptions of it: Dr. U. J. 
 Seetzen, November 1810; J. Gray (of Oxford), 
 1818; H. Ehrenberg, 1823; Dr. Edward Ruppell, 
 1827; Lieutenant T. R. Wellsted, January 1830; 
 Lieutenant Newbold, C. Shute, June 1840; Capt. 
 H. C. Butler, Rev. Pierce Butler, 1841; Professor 
 H. A. Ward, 1855; Professor E. H. Palmer, Rev. 
 F. W. Holland, Captain Wilson, Captain Palmer, 
 J. Wyatt, February 1869; Dr. H. C. Bolton, 1889. 
 Dr. Seetzen, the first European traveller to 
 arrive upon the scene, said that he found the mu- 
 sical mountain composed of a white friable sand- 
 stone, presenting on two of its sides sandy declivi- 
 ties. He watched beside it for an hour and a 
 quarter, and then heard for the first time a low 
 undulating sound somewhat resembling that of a 
 humming-top, which rose and fell, and ceased and 
 began, and then ceased again; and in an hour and 
 three-quarters after, when, in the act of climbing 
 along the declivity, he heard the sound get louder 
 and more prolonged. It seemed as if issuing from 
 under his knees, beneath which the sand, dis- 
 turbed by his efforts, was sliding downwards along 
 the surface of the rock. Concluding that the slid- 
 ing sand was the cause of the sounds, not an effect 
 of the vibrations which they occasioned, he climbed 
 to the top of one of the declivities, and, sliding 
 down, exerted himself with hands and feet to set 
 the sand in motion. The effect produced far ex- 
 
[339 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 341 
 
 ceeded his expectations; the incoherent sand rolled 
 under and around in a vast sheet; and so loud 
 was the noise produced that the earth seemed to 
 tremble beneath him to such an extent that he 
 would certainly have been afraid if he had been 
 ignorant of the cause. 
 
 Seetzen further compared the moving layer of 
 sand to a great violin bow thrown into tuneful 
 vibrations/ 
 
 Our sole English visitor in the first quarter of 
 the nineteenth century, J. Gray of University 
 College, Oxford, described the noise of the Mu- 
 sical Sands, which he heard more than once, as 
 " beginning with a low continuous murmuring 
 sound, which seemed to rise beneath his feet, but 
 gradually changed into pulsations as it became 
 louder, so as to resemble the striking of a clock, 
 and became so strong at the end of five minutes 
 as to detach the sand. On returning to the spot 
 next day, he heard the sound still louder than 
 before. He could not observe any crevices by 
 which the external air could penetrate ; and as the 
 sky was serene and the air calm, he was satisfied 
 that the sound could not arise from this cause. ^ 
 
 Ehrenberg, in 1823, also climbed the mountain, 
 and at every step heard a small strengthening of 
 the tone which swelled in volume with the increase 
 of the amount of sand in motion, and at length 
 became as strong as the distant thunder of cannon. 
 
 1 " Aus einen Schreiben des Dr. Seetzen," Monatl. Corresp., p. 396. 
 Gotha, October 1812. 
 
 2 Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. XI., p. 153, No. XIII., p. 51. 
 
342 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 He explained the vastness of the final effect as 
 due to the piling up of small effects, as in the case 
 of an avalanche: 
 
 The sand-bed, which is about 150 feet high and about 
 equally broad at its base, rises at an angle of 50 degrees, 
 and thus rests rather on itself than on the rock, which 
 gives it but slight support. The sand is coarse-grained 
 and composed of very clean, even-sized grains of quartz 
 from one-sixth to one-half a line in diameter. The great 
 heat dries the sand by day to a certain depth (whilst it is 
 moistened throughout by dew each night and makes it 
 equally dry and resonant. If, then, an empty space is 
 formed in the sand by the sinking of a man's foot into it, 
 the whole layer situated above this point loses its support 
 and begins slowly to move throughout its whole length. 
 By the flowing in of the sand from the sides and the 
 repeated tread [of the traveller] a large part of the whole 
 sand-layer of the slope at last acquires motion, and by 
 its friction against the motionless under-layer produces 
 a noise, which from a humming becomes a murmur, and 
 in the end passes into a roar, and is all the more surprising 
 in that one sees but little of the trickling and general 
 movement of the sand-layer. With the cessation of the 
 disturbance the sliding also gradually subsides as soon 
 as the gaps are again filled and the sand-columns gain a 
 more stable basis and a state of equilibrium is reproduced. 
 
 Another German, Dr. Ruppell, who visited 
 Jebel Nakus in 1827, and described it as a sand- 
 stone slope 200 feet high, heaped up when the 
 north wind blows at an angle of 50 degrees, has 
 left an account of his visit, but does not say that 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 343 
 
 he heard the music, though he adds that it is when 
 the west wind blows that it is audible."^ 
 
 The first full description from an English 
 source is, however, that of Lieutenant J. N. 
 Wellsted, of the Indian Navy, who was despatched 
 by the Bombay Government in 1829 in the ship 
 Palinurus to conduct a survey of the Red Sea. 
 He and his companions several times visited Jebel 
 Nakus, and he thus recorded his experience in 
 January, 1830,^ together with a lithographic illus- 
 tration, which a later American visitor regarded 
 as somewhat deficient in accuracy: 
 
 Considerable attention has also of late years been 
 directed towards the phenomenon connected with this re- 
 markable spot, though the accounts hitherto furnished 
 by travellers are neither so full nor so satisfactory as 
 could be wished. It forms one of a ridge of low cal- 
 careous hills, at a distance of 3% miles from the beach, 
 to which a sandy plain, extending with a gentle rise to 
 the base, connects them. Its height, about 400 feet, as 
 well as the material of which it is composed — a light- 
 coloured friable sandstone — is about the same as the rest 
 of the chain; but an inclined plane of almost impalpable 
 sand rises at an angle of 40 degrees with the horizon, 
 and is bounded by a semi-circle of rocks presenting broken, 
 abrupt and pinnacled forms, and extending to the base of 
 this remarkable hill. Although their shape and arrange- 
 ment in some respects may be said to resemble a whisper- 
 ing gallery, yet I determined by experiment that their 
 irregular surface renders them but ill-adapted for the 
 
 1 Der Tonende Berg Nakus in Reisen nach Nuhien. Frankfurt, 1829, 
 
 2 Travels in Arabia, vol. ii., pp. 23-27, London, 1838. 
 
844 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 production of an echo. Seated on a rock at the base of 
 the sloping eminence, I directed one of the Bedouins to 
 ascend, and it was not until he had reached some distance 
 that I perceived the sand in motion, rolling down the hill 
 to the depth of a foot. It did not, however, descend in 
 one continued stream, but, as the Arab scrambled up- 
 wards, it spread out laterally and upwards until a con- 
 siderable portion of the surface was in motion. At their 
 commencement the sounds might be compared to the faint 
 strains of an JEolian harp when its strings first catch 
 the breeze; as the sand became more violently agitated, 
 by the increased velocity of the descent, the noise more 
 nearly resembled that produced by drawing the moistened 
 fingers over glass. As it reached the base the reverbera- 
 tions attained the loudness of distant thunder, causing 
 the rock on which we were seated to vibrate; and our 
 camels, animals not easily frightened, became so alarmed 
 that it was with difficulty their drivers could retain them. 
 
 It is particularly worthy of remark that the noise did 
 not issue from every part of the hill alike, the loudest 
 being produced by disturbing the sand on the northern 
 side about twenty feet from the base, and about ten from 
 the rocks which bound it in that direction. The sounds 
 sometimes fell quicker on the ear, at other times were 
 more prolonged; but this swelling or sinking appeared 
 to depend upon the Arab's increasing or retarding the 
 velocity of his descent. On a spot so desert and solitary 
 they have an inconceivably melancholy effect, and the 
 Bedouins trace them to several wild and fanciful causes; 
 the tradition given by Burckhardt, that the bells belong- 
 ing to the convent have been buried here, has often been 
 repeated to me. 
 
 When I visited the Jebel Narkous on two other occa- 
 sions the results were much less satisfactory. The first 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 345 
 
 time the sounds were barely audible, and rain having 
 fallen a short time previous to my second visit, the sur- 
 face of the sand was so consolidated by the moisture that 
 they could not be produced at all. I therefore attribute 
 the complete gratification of my curiosity in this instance 
 to the sand being perfectly dry, and consequently larger 
 quantities rolling down the hill. That the explanation 
 of this phenomenon is intimately connected with the agi- 
 tation thus produced can admit of no doubt; but the 
 precise causes which lead to these results it seems difficult 
 to explain. It may be broadly stated that the particles 
 of sand, when in motion, roll over a harder bed, and 
 meet in their progress the wind then blowing directly on 
 the face of the hill at a certain angle. I should mention 
 that the same sounds are produced when the wind is 
 sufficiently high to set the sand in motion; but I reject, 
 without hesitation, the generally received opinion that the 
 effects I have described are originated by this sand falling 
 into cavities. Sounds thus produced would be dull and 
 wholly deficient in the vibrations which I have noticed." 
 
 Ten years later, another British officer. Lieu- 
 tenant Newbold, of the Madras Army, appeared 
 upon the scene, and gave an even more ample 
 account of his successful experience : ^ 
 
 Ten minutes' walk over sand and stones brought us 
 to the base of Gebel Nakus. The apparent height is from 
 350 to 400 feet. On the western side, which faces towards 
 the Red Sea, is a steep slope of a triangular form extend- 
 ing about 80 feet up the side of the hill, narrow at the 
 
 1 " Visit to Gebel Naktis, or the Mountain of the Bell, in the 
 Peninsula of Sinai, on June 10, 1840," Journal of the Royal Asiatio 
 Society of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. vii., p. 79, 1843. 
 
346 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 top, but widening out as it approaches the bottom. This 
 slope is bounded by low cliffs of sandstone on all sides 
 except the base, and covered with a very fine quartzy 
 sand of a light reddish-brown colour. The sand varies 
 in depth from a few inches to five or six feet, according 
 to the irregularity of the sandstone rocks which lie be- 
 neath it. It has evidently been conveyed to its present 
 position, on the slope of the rock, by the strong prevail- 
 ing westerly winds. Our Bedouin guide instantly pointed 
 to t»his sandy slope as the spot whence issue forth those 
 mysterious Memnonian sounds, to which the mountain 
 owes its appellation, and which the superstitious Arabs, 
 as noticed by Burckhardt, believe to be produced by the 
 bells of a subterraneous convent. 
 
 We strained our ears to catch a sound, but in vain; 
 a deep silence, hardly broken by the faint murmurings 
 of the wind, reigned over the singularly dreary and arid 
 wastes around. The Bedouin, having desired us to wait 
 at a rock at the foot of the slope, commenced its ascent, 
 sinking knee-deep in the loose sand that covered it. Pres- 
 ently we heard a faint musical sound resembling the deeper 
 chords of a violoncello at a distance, prolonged, and 
 lightly touched. The Bedouin now descended, and, on 
 my expressing some disappointment at the result, re- 
 marked with much phlegm, that the day was not pro- 
 pitious; but that, if we would come on the Jwma, or 
 Muhammedan Sabbath, we should hear the mountain 
 strains to much greater advantage. My friend, Mr. 
 Shute, of the Inniskillings, and myself, having now ob- 
 tained some clue to the cause of the sounds, determined 
 to put the guide's veracity to the test, and accordingly 
 commenced the ascent, which we found fatiguing, from 
 the depth and extreme fineness of the sand, and from 
 the intense heat of the sun. Having reached the top, 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 347 
 
 I seated myself at the base of the mural cliffs which crest 
 the summit, and watched the course of the sand we had 
 set in motion, as it passed downwards in undulating and 
 gradually widening lines to the base. The particles of 
 sand displaced in the lower part of the slope disturbed 
 those immediately above and below them; and, more 
 slightly, those on their sides ; so that the disturbance 
 of the upper layers of sand went on increasing on every 
 side, somewhat resembling the effect produced on the sur- 
 face of still water by dropping a stone into it. 
 
 About two minutes after the sand had been first set 
 in motion, a faint rustling sound, as it rolled down, struck 
 our ears; then the low, deep, distant, musical tone we 
 had first heard, which generally became more and more 
 distinct, and apparently nearer, in successive and fast 
 repeated notes, whose sound partook of those of a deep 
 mellow church or convent bell, and the vibrations of a 
 stringed instrument. On again disturbing the sand near 
 the summit with my feet, the sounds took up a more 
 treble and prolonged tone, resembling the wild strains 
 of an ^olian harp, but gradually becoming deeper and 
 louder, until at length they rivalled the continued rum- 
 bling of distant thunder, and fairly caused the sand on 
 which I sat to tremble in distinct vibrations. This in- 
 tensity of sound was produced a short interval after the 
 whole surface of the sand had been set in motion from 
 the summit to the base. The sensations imparted by 
 the vibrations were most extraordinary; I can only com- 
 pare them with those likely to be experienced by a person 
 seated on the body of some enormous stringed instrument 
 while a bow is slowly drawn over its chords. The great- 
 est effect was produced by traversing the sand from right 
 to left, and vice versa. 
 
 I descended to the base during the greatest intensity 
 
348 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 of the sounds, and awaited in silence their cessation, which 
 took place with that of the motion of the sand, at the 
 expiration of about a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Travellers have frequently attempted the explanation 
 of this curious phenomenon. Some are of opinion that 
 the sounds are caused by the sand's motion over hollow 
 rocks ; others imagine them to proceed from the sand fall- 
 ing into cavities ; some, again, suppose them to have their 
 origin in subterranean volcanoes ; and a few have thought 
 that similar sounds may be produced by the action of 
 the wind on the thin elastic plates of mica which abound 
 in granite and gneiss. The notion of the Arabs, that the 
 sounds are those of the bells of a subterraneous convent, 
 has doubtless been derived from the idle tales of the 
 monks of Mount Sinai, who declared to me that they had 
 never been heard until after the destruction of one of 
 their convents near Tor, and the death of the Forty 
 Martyrs. 
 
 With regard to the first and third of these opinions, 
 I can only observe that on a careful examination of the 
 rocks over which the sand rolled, they proved to be of a 
 massive whitish sandstone or grit, of a granular texture, 
 imbedding pebbles of quartz, and entirely free from cav- 
 erns, or holes of any magnitude. No volcanic rocks, nor 
 traces of extinct volcanoes, were found in the vicinity. 
 Erratic fragments of porphyry, granite, greenstone and 
 melaphyre, evidently transported from the lofty ranges 
 of Sinai in the interior, occurred strewed on the surface 
 of the desert not far distant. Were the sounds volcanic, 
 they would be absolutely independent of the motion of 
 the sand, which I shall have occasion to notice as an 
 indispensable condition to their production. The idea 
 of their being caused by sand falling into the cavities of 
 the rocks appears to me to be nearly as satisfactory as 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 349 
 
 the tale of the subterraneous bells. Sand in falling pro- 
 duces nothing beyond a dull, rustling noise, as may be 
 readily proved by experiment. With regard to the hy- 
 pothesis of wind acting on the thin and elastic plates 
 of mica, I may remark that I could not detect a single 
 plate of this mineral in the rocks of the locality, which 
 were all of a sandy and calcareous character. I am not, 
 however, prepared to deny the possibility of sounds being 
 produced, under certain conditions, in the crevices of 
 rocks of granite, gneiss, etc., which abound in mica. 
 
 My own ideas as to the cause of the phenomenon of 
 the Mountain of the Bell coincide in a great measure 
 with those of Lieutenant Wellsted, who has expressed 
 his opinion that its explanation is intimately connected 
 with the agitation of the sand. The inclination of the 
 slope, down which the sand falls, is nearly that at which 
 sand lies when poured down in a heap. It rolls down 
 this slope, after having been disturbed, in a westerly 
 direction; th^e surface of the subjacent sandstone rocks 
 is uneven and step-like. In falling, the sand collects into 
 waves, about an inch or two inches high, resembling those 
 of a thick liquid flowing slowly down an inclined plane. 
 These waves widen out as they approach the base of the 
 slope, and acted upon by the wind, which was at the time 
 of my visit blowing pretty strongly from the north-west, 
 nearly at an angle of 45° with the course of the sand, 
 form into festoon-like curves. The sounds produced on 
 first disturbing the sand near the summit of the plane 
 were, as before remarked, of a treble nature; but gradu- 
 ally deepened, and became graver and louder, as the 
 undulations lengthened on their way downwards to the 
 base; apparently on the principle of the difference of 
 sounds produced by the strings, of different lengths, of a 
 musical instrument. 
 
350 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 This effect was increased by the peculiar shape of the 
 plane down which the sand glided, which, from circum- 
 stances of its being narrow at top and broad at the base, 
 admitted of the gradual extension or widening of the 
 waves of sand ; or, if I may so express myself, the length- 
 ening of the strings, and the consequent deepening of the 
 strains, of this great natural ^olian harp. 
 
 That the sounds are caused principally by the motion 
 of the sand is further proved by the perfect stillness of 
 the locality, so long as the sand remains undisturbed; 
 by the gradual increase, diminution and cessation of the 
 sounds with those of the motion of the sand, and by their 
 being inaudible in wet weather, when the surface is con- 
 solidated, as observed by Lieutenant Wellsted. That the 
 action and direction of the wind is a favourable, if not 
 a necessary, condition, is proved by the sounds being 
 faint, according to the testimony of my Bedouin, in calm 
 weather, and sometimes inaudible; such was probably the 
 case on the occasion of Lieutenant Wellsted's first un- 
 successful visit. Further information, however, is de- 
 sirable on these points; and it would be interesting to 
 visit the locality during the prevalence of an easterly wind. 
 I hardly need remark that the north-west winds blow 
 with so much violence occasionally as to disturb the sand, 
 and thus produce the sounds without the aid of man. 
 It would also be useful to take careful relative measure- 
 ments of the locality, to ascertain the force and direc- 
 tion of the wind most favourable for producing the sounds, 
 with a view of constructing a model on a small scale, 
 from which similar effects might probably be produced 
 artificially, and the curious question regarding the pos- 
 sibility of moving lines of loose sand producing, under 
 any circumstances, musical sounds, decided beyond the 
 shadow of a doubt. It is not a little singular that Gebel 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 351 
 
 Nakus should be, as far as I am aware, the only known 
 spot on the globe where the necessary conditions exist 
 for producing those remarkable sounds,^ although I have 
 seen several localities in Arabia, Egypt and Spain where 
 loose sand has been accumulated on the sides of rocks 
 in an apparently similar manner. But it must be re- 
 marked at the same time that opportunity did not admit 
 of a careful comparative examination of these localities. 
 
 I have not met with the account of the visit to 
 Jebel Nakus of Professor H. A. Ward in 1855. 
 But the well-known narrative of the expedition of 
 Professor E. H. Palmer to determine the disputed 
 sites of Exodus in the Desert of Sinai contains a 
 full description of his visit to Jebel Nakus in 
 February 1869.' 
 
 It is situated at about three-quarters of a mile from 
 the sea-coast, and forms the north-western extremity of 
 the range of hills which we had just crossed to our camp 
 at Abu Suweirah, The mountain itself is composed of 
 white friable sandstone, and filling a large gully in the 
 side facing west-south-west, is a slope of fine drift sand 
 about 380 feet in height, 80 yards wide at the base, and 
 tapering towards the top, where it branches off into three 
 or four narrow gullies. The sand lies at so high an angle 
 to the horizon, nearly 30 , and is so fine and dry as to 
 be easily set in motion from any point in the slope, or 
 even by scraping away a portion from its base. When 
 this is done the sand rolls down with a sluggish viscous 
 motion, and it is then that the sound begins, at first a low 
 vibratory moan, but gradually swelling out into a roar 
 
 1 He was of course mistaken. 
 
 2 The Desert of the Exodus, part I, pp. 217-221. Cambridge, 1871. 
 
352 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 like thunder, and as gradually. dying away again until the 
 sand has ceased to roll. To me the sound seemed more 
 like that caused by air entering the mouth of a large metal 
 vessel, and I could produce an imitation of it on a small 
 scale by turning my flask at a certain angle to the wind. 
 We found that the heated surface was much more sensi- 
 tive to sound than the cooler layers beneath, and that 
 those parts of the slope which had lain long undisturbed, 
 produced a much louder and more lasting sound than 
 those which had recently been set in motion, thus show- 
 ing that the phenomenon is purely local and superficial, 
 and due in some manner to the combined eff^ects of heat 
 and friction. A faint sound could also be produced by 
 sweeping portions of the sand rapidly forward with the 
 arm; and this caused such a peculiar tingling sensation 
 in the operator's arm as to suggest that some electrical 
 influence was also at work. When a large quantity of 
 the sand was set in motion and the sound was at its height 
 a powerful vibration was felt, and straws stuck into the 
 sand trembled visibly although there was not a breath of 
 wind to disturb them. The sand on the upper part of 
 the slope where it branches off into the gullies above 
 mentioned is coarser and more adulterated with extrane- 
 ous particles, detritus from the overhanging rocks, and 
 pieces of seaweed blown up from the shore; it is con- 
 sequently less easily set in motion, and we found it to 
 be much less sensitive to sound. The inclination of the 
 slope is the " angle of rest " of the sand in its normal 
 state; but excessive heat or drought, wind, animals run- 
 ning over the slope, falling rocks, and many other acci- 
 dents might act as disturbing causes ; in any of these 
 cases the sound would occur, and its spontaneous pro- 
 duction, which has caused so much speculation, may be 
 therefore easily accounted for. Besides the large slide 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 353 
 
 there is a narrow slope to the north; and part of this, 
 being in shade the whole day long during the winter 
 months, afforded us an opportunity of determining the 
 comparative sensitiveness of the heated and cool sand. 
 We found that the sand on the cool, shaded portion, at a 
 temperature of 62 produced but a very faint sound 
 when set in motion; while that on the more exposed 
 parts, at a temperature of 103 gave forth a loud and 
 often even startling noise. Other sand-slopes in the 
 vicinity were also experimented upon, but these, which 
 were composed of coarser grains and inclined at a lower 
 angle, produced no acoustic phenomena whatever. The 
 Arabs declare that the sounds are only heard on Fridays 
 and Sundays, and tell the following legend respecting 
 their origin : 
 
 An Arab whose people were encamped by the palm- 
 grove of Abu Suweirah, happened to stroll alone by the 
 sea-shore, and coming to the spot in question, which he 
 had hitherto believed to be barren and uninhabited, he 
 was surprised to find a small monastery and a pleasant 
 garden on the mountain side. The brethren received him 
 courteously, and invited him to partake of their meal, 
 to which, being hungry and fatigued, he gladly consented. 
 Having shared their hospitality, he prepared to depart, 
 but first, at the instance of his hosts, he took a solemn 
 oath that he would never reveal to any living soul the 
 secret of their retreat or of his own meeting with them. 
 He was accompanied for a portion of his way home by 
 two of the monks, who reiterated their injunctions of 
 secrecy and took their leave. The Arab, however, 
 prompted either by curiosity or baser motives, took the 
 opportunity of dropping the stones of some dates which 
 he had eaten, in order that he might have a clue by which 
 to find the place again; and on reaching the tents of his 
 
354 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 tribe he at once related his adventure, regardless alike 
 of his oath and of the sacred laws of hospitality. His 
 people refused to credit his account until he offered to 
 conduct them himself to the place ; but, when he attempted 
 to do this, he found that all the date-stones had been 
 removed. He did, however, succeed in identifying the 
 mountain, but the monastery, gardens, and monks had 
 all disappeared, and nothing remained to show that they 
 had ever existed save the sound of the ndgus calling them 
 to prayers within their mysterious retreat in the very 
 heart of the mountain. The Arab who had thus disre- 
 garded the sacred obligations of bread and salt, not only 
 forfeited the esteem of his own people, but misfortune 
 after misfortune overtook him until he perished miserably, 
 an outcast from his fellow-men. 
 
 I have quoted Professor Palmer's description of 
 Jebel Nakus at length, because, if reference to it 
 is desired, this will be easily accessible to any 
 reader. But a nearly identical, though more 
 purely scientific, account was given by Captain 
 H. S. Palmer, R.E., in the official publication, 
 entitled Ordnance Survey of the Peninsula of 
 Sinai, which had been brought out by H.M. Gov- 
 ernment two years earlier, in 1869. The descrip- 
 tion of the sounds, as heard by the party, is even 
 more precise (pp. 131-134) : 
 
 The sound is difficult to describe exactly; it is not 
 metallic, nor like that of a bell, nor yet that of a ndgus. 
 Perhaps the very hoarsest note of an ^olian harp, or the 
 sound produced by rubbing the finger round the wet rim 
 of a deep-toned finger-glass, most closely resembles it, 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 355 
 
 save that there is less music in the sound of this rolling 
 sand. It may also be likened to the noise produced by 
 air rushing into the mouth of an empty flask or bottle; 
 sometimes it almost approaches the roar of very distant 
 thunder, and sometimes it resembles the deeper notes of a 
 violoncello, or the hum of a humming-top. 
 
 Captain Palmer went on to say: 
 
 The motion may be produced by design in various ways 
 — ^by scraping away •a portion at the foot of the slope; 
 by walking directly or slantwise up it ; or, which is the 
 most effectual method, by ascending the cliffs at its side, 
 and then scrambling rapidly along the whole face of the 
 upper part of the slope, or slipping down and displacing 
 the sand with one's hands and feet. The sand thus set 
 in motion from any high point rolls slowly down over 
 the surface in thin waves an inch or two deep, just as 
 oil or any thick liquid might roll over an inclined sheet 
 of glass, and in similar festoons or curves. In its passage, 
 each wave slightly disturbs the sand below it and at its 
 sides; then the waves gradually spread as they descend 
 over the constantly widening surface of the slope, and 
 the sound soon reaches its highest pitch; approaching 
 the bottom the film gets thinner and thinner, at length 
 aU movement ceases, and with it the sound. 
 
 Of the various natural causes by which motion 
 of the sand and consequent singing might be pro- 
 duced, Captain Palmer named the wind (the pre- 
 vailing direction of which is from the north-west), 
 intense heat, and drought. Among possible arti- 
 ficial causes he enumerated the movement of 
 animals, such as gazelles, hyaenas, wolves, foxes, 
 
356 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 hares, or jerboas, crossing the slide; or rocks roll- 
 ing down from the heights above; and of course, 
 the accidental or deliberate actions of man. 
 
 With the Ordnance Survey was published an 
 engraving of the sand-slope of Jebel Nakus, 
 which is reproduced here, and which may be com- 
 pared with Lieutenant Wellsted's drawing en- 
 graved in his book/ The latter sketch represents 
 the sand as apparently lying at a much steeper 
 slope, and suggests exaggeration. Indeed the 
 American, Dr. Bolton, said that it was quite in- 
 accurate. 
 
 Such was the record of their experience and im- 
 pressions left by a series of English travellers of 
 knowledge and repute in the second and third 
 quarters of the past century. It is remarkable to 
 me that. Tor being a regular station for visitors 
 to Sinai, so few, even among professional trav- 
 ellers who have touched or halted there, have 
 seized the occasion to visit Jebel Nakus. Burton's 
 ship was detained at Tor on his journey to Mecca, 
 but he does not refer to the hill on that occasion. 
 Nor does H. Brugsch, who spent three days in the 
 town.^ Ehsee Reclus gives a clear local map 
 showing the Nakus, but does not even refer to it 
 in his text.^ No modern addition, indeed, has 
 been made to the rather scant compendium which 
 I have compiled until, in the eighties, a number of 
 American scientists, who had devoted themselves 
 
 1 Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. p. 24. 
 
 2 Wamderung, p. 22 et seq. Leipzig, 1866. 
 
 3 G-eographie Universelle, vol. ix., p. 822. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 357 
 
 with great application to the study of the problem 
 of Musical Sands, turned their attention to Jebel 
 Nakus, one of their number, Dr. H. C. Bolton, 
 eventually deciding to visit the spot. The narra- 
 tive of his journey in 1889 contains our latest 
 information. In May 1889 Dr. Bolton's Report 
 appeared in the Transactions of the New York 
 Academy of Sciences, It will be seen that he 
 heard the music, but in no striking degree: 
 
 The name Jebel Nagous is given by the Bedouins to a 
 mountain nearly three miles long and about 1200 feet 
 high, composed of white sandstone bearing quartz pebbles 
 and veins. On the west and north-west are several large 
 banks of brown sand inclined at high angles. The sand 
 on one of these slopes at the north-western end of the 
 mountain has the property of yielding a deep resonance 
 when it glides down the incline, either from the force 
 of the wind or by the action of man. This bank of 
 sand I distinguish from the others by calling it the Bell 
 Slope. It is triangular in shape and measures 260 feet 
 across the base, % feet across the top, and is 394 feet 
 high. It has the inclination of 31° quite uniformly. It 
 is bounded by vertical cliffs of sandstone and is broken 
 towards the base by projecting rocks of the same material. 
 The sand is yellowish in colour, very fine, and possesses 
 at this inclination a curious mobility, which causes it to 
 flow, when disturbed, like treacle or pitch, the depression 
 formed being filled in from above and advancing upward 
 at the same time. The sand has none of the character- 
 istics of sonorous sand found on beaches. When pulled 
 downward by the hand, or pushed by the feet, a strong 
 vibration is felt and a low note is plainly heard, re- 
 
358 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 sembling the deep bass of an organ-pipe. The loudness 
 and continuity of the note are related to the mass of sand 
 moved, but I think that those who compare it to distant 
 thunder exaggerate. The bordering rocky walls give a 
 marked echo, which may have the effect of magnifying 
 and prolonging the sounds, but which is not essential. 
 There are no cavities for the sand to fall into, as erro- 
 neously reported. The peak of Jebel Nagous rises above 
 the Bell Slope to the height of 955 feet above the sea- 
 level. 
 
 In October 1889 Dr. Bolton made a further 
 report of the same visit, in which he described the 
 sand of Jebel Nakus as very fine granules, yel- 
 lowish white, and composed chiefly of quartz and 
 calcareous sandstone, and added that " the sand of 
 the slope is derived partly from disintegration of 
 the rock itself and partly from the more distant 
 plain below, from which violent winds blow it up 
 on the mountain side." 
 
 Other Arabian Sands 
 
 The same thought, however, occurred to Dr. 
 Bolton as must have presented itself to some of 
 my readers, viz., whatever the cause or explanation 
 of the sounds, how comes it that in countries and 
 in regions where sand-dunes, sand-hills, and sand- 
 drifts abound, apparently not differing widely 
 from each other in shape or composition, the music 
 is heard in so few places, and that Singing Sands, 
 instead of being a normal, are so rare a phe- 
 nomenon? Accordingly he began to search in the 
 
THE SINGIISTG SANDS 359 
 
 neighbouring area for parallel sites, and without 
 difficulty he discovered another sounding sand- 
 hill 45 feet high, in the Wadi Werkan, five min- 
 utes off the regular caravan route to Egypt, and 
 one and a half days by camel from Suez. The 
 spot is called by the Bedawin Ramadan, and is 
 thus described by Dr. Bolton. The sand, when 
 blown by the north wind, is carried over a range 
 of cliffs and is deposited on their south side, where 
 it rests on the steep face at an angle of 31° at the 
 top and 21° or less below. On being stirred by 
 the hand, the sand yielded the bass note, already 
 heard at Jebel Nakus, and audible 100 feet away.^ 
 Probably if similar investigations were conducted, 
 a good many sand-dunes, where the particular 
 combination of conditions, essential to the produc- 
 tion of the music, exists — what they are I will dis- 
 cuss later on — could be found; attention having 
 been concentrated on a few sites where the phe- 
 nomenon, whether in respect of the size of the 
 sand-hill, or of the sounds produced, is on a larger 
 scale, or has become associated either with the 
 burial of a saint or some local superstition. 
 
 Burckhardt, when he was in the Sinai Penin- 
 sula in May 1816, heard of Jebel Nakus, and the 
 Bedawin tales concerning it, but made no effort 
 to test them by visiting the spot. On the other 
 hand he heard even more precise stories about a 
 similar phenomenon in another mountain of the 
 Sinai group: 
 
 1 Transaction of the New York Academy of Sciences, May 1889, 
 p. 182. 
 
360 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Several Bedouins had acquainted me that a thundering 
 noise, like repeated discharges of heavy artillery, is heard 
 at times in these mountains ; and they all affirmed that 
 it came from Om Shomar. The monks (of the Convent 
 of St. Catherine) corroborated the story, and even posi- 
 tively asserted that they had heard the sound about 
 midday five years ago, describing it in the same manner 
 as the Bedouins. The same noise had been heard in more 
 remote times, and the Ikonomos, who had lived there forty 
 years, told me that he remembered to have heard the noise 
 at four or five separate periods. I inquired whether any 
 shock of an earthquake had ever been felt on such occa- 
 sions, but was answered in the negative.^ 
 
 Burckhardt then made a special visit to Om 
 Shomar, but without result. 
 
 Niebuhr, who was in the same neighbourhood in 
 the previous century and gave an illustration of 
 Tor, makes no reference either to Jebel Nakus or 
 to any other Sounding Sand in the vicinity. 
 
 Another German traveller who made the jour- 
 ney from Cairo to Medina and Mecca in April 
 1845, Dr. G. A. Wallin, also refers to a place, 
 called by his guide W'adi Hamade, somewhere in 
 Northern Arabia north of Medina. He did not 
 apparently either visit it or hear the music. But 
 the Arab informed him that sometimes very 
 strange sounds, like those of kettledrums, are 
 heard to rise from the earth, without any one 
 being able to account for this extraordinary phe- 
 nomenon.^ 
 
 1 Travels in Syria and the Holy Land, pp. 587-591. London, 1822. 
 
 2 Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. xxiv., 1854. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 361 
 
 So great a traveller and so profound a scholar 
 as C. M. Doughty could not be expected, in his 
 classic of Arabian travel, to leave the phenomenon 
 of the Sounding Sands unnoticed, and accordingly 
 we read with no surprise the following passage : 
 
 In the Nefuz, towards El-Hyza, are certain booming 
 sand-hills — Rowsa, Deffafiat, Subbia and Irzum, such as 
 the sand drift of Jebel Nagus, by the sea village of Tor 
 in Sinai; the upper sand sliding down under the foot of 
 the passenger, there arises, of the infinite fretting grains, 
 such a giddy loud-swelling sound as when your wetted 
 finger is drawn about the lip of a glass of water, and like 
 that swooning din after the chime of a great bell or cup 
 of metal. Nagus is the name of the sounding-board 
 in the belfry of the Greek monastery, whereupon, as the 
 iacristan plays with his hammer, the timber yields a 
 pleasant musical note which calls forth the formal colieros 
 to their prayers ; another such singing sand drift, El- 
 How ay ria, is in the cliffs (east of the Mizham) of Medain 
 Salih/ 
 
 H. St. J. Philby, the most recent and adven- 
 turous of British travellers, in the Heart of 
 Arabia, which title he has given to his excellent 
 book (1922), tells me that he never heard the 
 phenomenon himself, but that he was often told 
 about it by the Arabs, more particularly in rela- 
 tion to the dead city of Jahura, never visited by a 
 European, and hidden away in the Great Desert, 
 somewhere about the 22nd parallel of latitude and 
 
 '^Travels in Arabia Deserta {circ. 1876), vol. i., p. 307. Cam- 
 bridge, 1888. 
 
362 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 the 51st of longitude, midway between the borders 
 of Hejaz and Oman. There the sounds of drum- 
 ming and moaning are regularly heard at night 
 by passing travellers, by whom they are of course 
 attributed to jinns, or ghosts, persons of weak 
 intellect having even been known to lose their 
 reason. This, however, may be a case of merely 
 imaginary haunting, the product of superstition. 
 Sir Richard Burton, though he does not appear 
 anywhere to have heard the music, refers to 
 examples in Midian. He also only quotes the 
 evidence of others. A party from his expedition, 
 headed by Lieutenant Amir Rushdi, were at a 
 distance of about three hours, or eleven miles, 
 from Sharma camp, when — 
 
 . . . some pyramids of sand were pointed out in the 
 Wady Ratiyah. The Bedawin call one of them the Goz el- 
 Hannan (Moaning Sand-heap). They declare that when 
 the Hajj -caravan passes, or rather used to pass, by that 
 way, before the early sixteenth century, when Sultan Selim 
 laid out his maritime high-road, a naubah (orchestra) 
 was wont to sound within its bowel. This tale is told 
 of two other places in Midian.^ 
 
 It is true that some of these tales only repeat 
 second-hand hearsay or even more remote tradi- 
 tion. But they testify to a widespread belief in 
 the existence of a phenomenon which there is no 
 reason to doubt, and the manifestations of which 
 are much more calculated to surprise us by their 
 rareness than by their frequency. 
 
 1 Land of Midian, vol. i., p. 65. London, 1879. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 363 
 
 Jehel-ut'Tabul 
 
 In my studies I came across a passage in the 
 travels of Ibn Batutah, the Moor of Tangier, who 
 journeyed extensively in the East about a.d. 1330, 
 and who thus described a place on the road be- 
 tween Medina and Mecca, which he called Jebel- 
 ut-Tabul or the Hill of Drums. 
 
 At Bedr there is a spring the water of which forms a 
 canal. The site of the well in which the idolaters — 
 enemies of God — ^were thrown, is now a garden, and the 
 burial place of the martyrs is behind it. The Mountain 
 of Pity (Jebel-ur-Rahma), where the angels descended 
 (Koran, iii. 119-121), is on the left hand of any one who 
 enters upon this last spot in order to proceed towards 
 Safra. In front is the Mount of Drums. It resembles a 
 vast hill of sand, and the inhabitants of these countries 
 declare that every night between Thursday and Friday 
 they hear in this place a noise as of drums. The site of 
 the hut of the Missionary of God, in which he spent the 
 day at Bedr, in prayer to his Lord, is at the foot of the 
 Mount of Drums. The place of combat is opposite to it.^ 
 
 I sought for references to this spot in the pub- 
 lished works of Burton, Burckhardt, and others 
 who have made or described the journey from 
 Medina to Mecca, but could not find any. 
 
 I then referred to King Hussein of the Hejaz, 
 who replied that he knew the locality well, having 
 
 '^Voyages d'lhn Batoutah ( Def r^mery ) , vol. i., p. 296. Paris, 
 1853. The allusion is of course to the famous battle of Bedr, in 
 which Mohanmied defeated the Meccans in a.d. 623. 
 
364. TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 built a small mosque at the foot of the hill to com- 
 memorate the famous victory of the Prophet, but 
 that, though he was familiar with the rumour, he 
 had never himself heard the drums. On the other 
 hand, his son, Amit Abdullah of Trans Jordan, 
 spoke of the phenomenon at Bedr as being of fre- 
 quent and notorious occurrence. 
 
 He added the information, derived from his 
 Bedawin followers, who claimed to have them- 
 selves heard the music, that sounds of thundering 
 and groaning are also heard at night, and on most 
 nights, in the sand-belt known as Arq-al-Subai in 
 the neighbourhood of a locality known as Abraq- 
 al-Manazil, on the way to Taif; and also in the 
 sands near Khanug, which is described as lying 
 ninety-five miles E.S.E. of Medina. These asser- 
 tions, if true, are peculiar in ascribing the sound 
 to night time, when the majority of the causes that 
 are believed to produce the sound are unlikely to 
 be in operation. In all these cases it is difficult to 
 distinguish experience from rumour and truth 
 from superstition. But at least the testimony 
 tends to corroborate the belief that the Arabian 
 sands exhibit many instances of the phenomenon. 
 
 While I was writing this paper the representa- 
 tive of King Hussein, who happened to be in 
 London and heard of my investigations, gave me 
 the following note: 
 
 There is a place at Beirut, called Es-Sadat, which is 
 said to produce a musical sound. It is compared to a 
 tambourine. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 365 
 
 The place is a cave dug out in a rocky hill situated in 
 the extreme western point of the city of Beirut and faces 
 the "Pigeon Rocks" or " Shubra." The hill on the 
 north dominates a vast sandy beach, which stretches from 
 the foot of the hill all along the coast to a point five 
 miles to the north-west. The sandy beach rises in some 
 places to form a sandy hill. 
 
 The people of Beirut say that they hear the music on 
 Friday nights, and it is attributed to the playing of the 
 Sadat — the Masters. These apparitions gather on Friday 
 nights in that cave and go through the thikr with tam- 
 bourines in the manner of the thikr to-day, as practised 
 in some places after prayers on Friday. 
 
 There is a man from Beirut, now in London, who says 
 that when he was a boy he himself heard the music. His 
 son added that his grandmother used to sit on Friday 
 nights till late to hear the tambourines of the Sadat. 
 They said that there are some people in Beirut who 
 pretend to have seen people in white clothes going into 
 the cave at night. 
 
 I accordingly asked the British Consul at 
 Beyrout to visit the place. He found that the 
 ground in the neighbourhood of the cave is now 
 in the occupation of the French naval authorities, 
 who have erected a wireless station there, and that 
 the cave itself, which is high enough to admit of 
 a man standing upright in it, is used by the sailors 
 as a petrol-store. The high ground on which it is 
 situated dominates a large expanse of sand and 
 sand-dunes, sometimes rising to a considerable 
 height, but lying at some distance from the cave. 
 The French have never heard any sounds; but 
 native witnesses who have lived in the neighbour- 
 
366 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 hood for many years have heard the music ema- 
 nating from the cave (though not recently) and 
 described it as resembhng the sound of a beaten 
 tambourine. They added the not unexpected de- 
 tail that the music was always heard on Thursday 
 evenings {i.e,, on the eve of the Holy Day) and 
 was accompanied by the voices of persons invok- 
 ing the names of Allah and Mohammed! There 
 I must leave it. It is quite possible that at an 
 earlier date before the dunes were planted, as they 
 have been in many places with pines, and built 
 upon, some or other of the sand slopes may have 
 been musical, and that the sounds so heard were 
 connected by the superstitious natives with the 
 mystery of the cave. The conditions which pro- 
 duced vocality, if it ever existed, may now have 
 ceased to operate. 
 
 Before leaving the Continent of Asia, I should 
 add that Sir H. Yule refers to a case in the hills 
 between the Ulba and the Irtish, in the vicinity 
 of the Altai, which he calls the Almanac Hills, 
 because the sounds are supposed to prognosticate 
 weather changes.^ But the only reference to these 
 mountains of which I am aware is in a German 
 publication, where they are called the Kalendar 
 Mountains, and are said to give out a sharp report 
 before bad weather — a phenomenon not without 
 parallel, but bearing no relation to the Singing 
 Sands.^ 
 
 1 Marco Polo, vol, i., p. 206. 
 
 2 Statement by Meyer in Ledebour's Reise, vol. ii., p. 186. Berlin, 
 1830. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 367 
 
 The Libyan Desert 
 
 It would be strange if no similar tales were 
 forthcoming from the immense sand deserts of 
 Africa, where the necessary conditions could hardly 
 fail in some places to exist. But in the meagre 
 literature of the subject I have found no such ref- 
 erence, and I only owe the two following records 
 to my own research. 
 
 In April 1909, W. J. Harding King, travelling 
 in the Libyan Desert, to the west of the Nile Val- 
 ley, heard the song of the sands amid the dunes, 
 some sixty feet high, not far from the Dakhla 
 Oasis. The plateau over which he was journey- 
 ing consisted of sandstone, but the meteorological 
 conditions were somewhat unusual. After a week 
 of great heat, followed by a cool, almost a cold 
 day, with slight showersj a downpour of rain 
 occurred for a quarter of an hour before sunset. 
 Then was heard the music. 
 
 The sound began at 7.30 p.m. and continued till about 
 8. It was very faint. There were two distinct sounds: 
 the one somewhat resembled the sighing of the wind in 
 telegraph wires, and the other was a deep throbbing sound 
 that strongly reminded me of the after-reverberation of 
 Big Ben. ... It was very difficult to determine the direc- 
 tion from which the sound came, but apparently it came 
 from a place about a mile distant, where the sand poured 
 over a low scarp. The sound was a distinctly musical 
 one, as opposed to a mere noise.^ 
 
 1 Geographical Journal, vol. xxxix., 1912, pp. 133-4. 
 
368 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 The Western Sahara 
 
 The German traveller, Dr. Oskar Lenz, who 
 made long and adventurous explorations in the 
 years 1874-80 in the Western Sahara, between 
 Timbuctoo and Morocco, testifies to the same phe- 
 nomenon at a spot in the Igidi region, near the 
 well Bir-el- Abbas, a little north of 25° north lati- 
 tude, longitude about 6^° west of Greenwich. 
 
 Here in this Igidi region I observed the interesting 
 phenomenon of the Musical Sand. In the midst of the 
 solitude one suddenly hears emerging from the interior 
 of a sand-hill a long-drawn hollow tone, like that of a 
 trumpet, which continues for a few seconds, then stops, 
 only to sound again from another spot after a short 
 interval. This makes a weird impression in the death- 
 like stillness of the uninhabited waste. It should be re- 
 marked at once that there is absolutely no question of an 
 acoustic illusion, comparable to the optical illusions to 
 which one may be subject. Not only I, but all my people, 
 heard these hollow tones, and the guide Mohammed already 
 called our attention to this phenomenon the day before. 
 
 The long-extended sand-dunes of the Igidi, which form 
 regular chains of hills with sharp corners and summits, 
 have, like all dunes, a gently rising surface directed to- 
 wards the wind and in part at least a very steep fall 
 on the opposite side. Here too they consist of a loose, 
 very pure, light yellow quartz sand, which is heated as 
 in a furnace by the sun. When these sand-hills are 
 crossed by a caravan a movement is set up of the lightly- 
 piled resonant quartz grains — which movement, at first 
 limited to a small space, draws constantly larger circles 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 369 
 
 Into sympathy with itself, and, like an avalanche, spreads 
 itself over the whole surface of such a sand-hill. The 
 motion of the loose sand-grains causes them to collide 
 feebly with each other, by which an ever so slight note 
 is produced ; by reason of the great volume of the moving 
 sand-grains and the summation of the, individually, ex- 
 tremely feeble tones, a noise results which may attain a 
 quite extraordinary strength. As a rule the phenomenon 
 occurs only when the sand is set in motion artificially, 
 by men or camels, and when the disturbance of equilibrium 
 penetrates somewhat deeply into the mass. Camels often 
 sink knee-deep into the loose sand. A mere superficial 
 movement, such as may be caused by the wind, will pro- 
 duce the phenomenon in a very much slighter degree/ 
 
 South Africa 
 
 I have found a single mention of a Singing 
 Sand-dune in South Africa, on the west side of 
 the Langberg Mountain in Western Griqualand, 
 on dunes 500-600 feet in height. But the descrip- 
 tion of the musical sand is unfortunately omitted 
 by the author, though apparently it had been re- 
 corded by him.^ 
 
 North America 
 
 In North America I have come across a single 
 record of a Singing Sand-dune, analogous to the 
 
 '^Timbuktu: Reise durch Marokko Die Sahara und den Sudan, 
 vol. ii., p. 53. Leipzig, 1884. 
 
 2 Twenty--five Years in a Wagon in South Africa, by A. A. Ander- 
 son, vol. i., p. 92. London, 1887. 
 
370 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Asian and African cases which we have been dis- 
 cussing, and differing from the Musical Sand- 
 beaches, of which there are so many examples in 
 the American Continent. This is in Churchill 
 county, in Nevada, twenty miles south of Still- 
 water. The dune is said to be 100-400 feet in 
 height, and four miles long. When agitation of 
 the sand starts it sliding a noise is produced like 
 that from telegraph wires fanned by a breeze.^ 
 
 South America 
 
 Tarapaca in Chile. — Here also we have the 
 record of a Singing Sand-hill known locally as the 
 Rumbling Mountain. It is described by a mining 
 engineer, W. Bollaert, who in about 1830 was 
 employed in the neighbourhood. He says: 
 
 On the road from Tarapaca to Guantajaya, and six 
 miles west of the Pozo (or well) de Ramirez, is the Cerrito 
 de Huara, a hramador, or rumbling mountain, which is 
 an object of curiosity to the traveller, but to the Indians 
 one rather of fear. The sounds are generally heard about 
 sunrise. This hill is situated in a desert plain. During 
 the day the country around is exposed to great heat ; at 
 night there is a considerable diminution of temperature, 
 in consequence of the hot south wind having gone to the 
 eastward, where it gets cooled by the Andes, forming 
 during the night the land breeze. As the sun rises the 
 air becomes heated, expansion takes place, rapid currents 
 and even gusts of wind are formed, which, striking upon 
 the sides of the mountains and setting the sand in motion, 
 
 1 Troms. 'New York Acad. Sci., vol. iii., 1885, p. 97. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 371 
 
 cause probably the roaring or rumbling sounds in ques- 
 tion/ 
 
 Copiapo in Chile, — A few years later (in June 
 1835) Charles Darwin, travelling in Chile, records 
 another El Bramador or Bellower. While stay- 
 ing in the town of Copiapo, he heard of, but did 
 not himself visit, a neighbouring hill, covered by 
 sand, where the sound was produced by people 
 ascending the slope. " One person with whom I 
 conversed had himself heard the noise; he de- 
 scribed it as very surprising; and he distinctly 
 stated that, although he could not understand how 
 it was caused, yet it was necessary to set the sand 
 rolling down the declivity." ^ 
 
 A full description of this place appeared in 
 Nature in July 1909 from the pen of M. H. Gray, 
 who visited it with the British Consul, and thus 
 narrated his experience, although he made the mis- 
 take of supposing that the sound was caused or 
 accentuated by the existence of old silver work- 
 ings below the surface of the moving sand: 
 
 In a ravine a few miles to the west of Copiapo the sand 
 has been carried by the sea breeze up the gully and lies 
 at a slope equal to the flowing angle of dry sand. The 
 place is locally known as El Punto del Diabolo, since, 
 given conditions of time and weather, a low moaning 
 sound, varying in intensity, can be heard for quite a 
 quarter of a mile away. Amongst the superstitious 
 natives the place is avoided. . . . On our arrival we found 
 
 1 Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. xxi., 1851, p. 104. 
 
 2 Voyage of the " Beagle" p. 366. London, 1901. 
 
372 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 that the sands were quite silent, but on making a glissade 
 down the slope a gradually increasing rumble was heard, 
 which grew in volume as the sand slid away before us. 
 As the sound increased we were subjected to an un- 
 dulatory movement, so decided that it was difficult to 
 keep one's balance. 
 
 Hawaiian Islands 
 
 The Barking Sands of Kauai, — Lastly comes 
 the remarkable ease, said to have been discovered 
 about the year 1850, of the so-called Barking 
 Sands in one of the islands of the Hawaiian 
 groups. Travellers in those strange and exotic 
 scenes seem to have been largely unaware of or 
 to have ignored the existence of this phenomenon. 
 But they are mentioned in the works of Bates, 
 Frink, Bird, Nordhoff, and some others. I take 
 the following account from a newly published and 
 official work on the natural history of the islands. 
 The author writes as follows: 
 
 The Barking Sands of Mana (in Kauai) consist of a 
 series of wind-blown sand-hills, a half-mile or more in 
 length, along the shore at Nahili. The bank is nearly 
 60 feet high, and through the action of the wind the 
 mound is constantly advancing on the land. The front 
 wall is quite steep. The white sand, which is composed 
 of coral, shells, and particles of lava, has the peculiar 
 property, when very dry, of emitting a sound, when two 
 handfuls are clapped together, that, to the imaginative 
 mind, seems to resemble the barking of a dog. When a 
 horse is rushed down the steep incline of the mound a 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 373 
 
 curious sound as of subterranean thunder is produced. 
 The sound varies with the degree of heat, the dryness of 
 the sand and the amount of friction employed; so that 
 sounds varying from a faint rustle to a deep rumble may 
 be produced. Attempts at explaining this rare natural 
 phenomenon have left much of the mystery still unsolved. 
 However, the dry sand doubtless has a resonant quality 
 that is the basis of the peculiar manifestation, which 
 disappears when the sand is wet. That the Barking 
 Sands are found in only a couple of the driest localities 
 in the group is also significant. Much of the shore-line 
 of Kauai, for example, is lined with old coral reefs that 
 have partly disintegrated into sand that forms the 
 beaches/ 
 
 Dr. H. C. Bolton visited these sands in the 
 spring of 1890 and thus described his experience: 
 
 At its steepest part, the angle being quite uniformly 
 31 , the sand has a notable mobility when perfectly dry, 
 and, on disturbing its equilibrium, it rolls in wavelets 
 down the incline, emitting at the same time a deep bass 
 note of a tremulous character. My companion thought 
 the sound resembled the hum of a buzz-saw in a planing 
 mill. . . . The drier the sand the louder the sound. 
 
 Kaluakahua. — Pursuing his investigations, Dr. 
 Bolton discovered another Sonorous Sand-dune at 
 a place called Kaluakahua in the neighbouring 
 islet of Niihau in the same group. Here the music 
 is heard on the land side of a dune about 100 feet 
 
 1 W. A. Bryan, Natural History/ of Hawaii, p. 108. Hawaii, 1915. 
 Vide also J. Blake, Proc. Calif. Acad. 8ci., 1873-5, vol. v., pp. 357-8. 
 
374 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 high, and at several points along the coast. " On 
 the chief slope, 36 feet high, the sand has the same 
 mobility, lies at the same angle, and gives when 
 disturbed the same note as the sand of Kauai, but 
 less strong, the slope being so much lower." ^ 
 
 Dr. Bolton added, as demonstrating that the 
 acoustic property is independent of material, that, 
 whereas admittedly the Sonorous Sands of all 
 other known localities are silicious, being either 
 pure silex or a mixture of the same with silicates, 
 such as feldspar, the Hawaiian sands are wholly 
 carbonate of lime. 
 
 I have now completed my summary of the 
 various localities in different and widely scattered 
 parts of the world, where the phenomenon of the 
 Singing Sands, either in steeply sloping sand-hills 
 or in dunes, has been or still is heard; and I have 
 shown that instead of there being only two or at 
 the most three spots, as the majority of writers 
 have alleged, where it exists, it is on the contrary 
 widely diffused, and is to be found in both hemi- 
 spheres and in every continent, except, as it seems, 
 that of Europe, where the general paucity of 
 sand, except in the neighbourhood of the sea, and 
 the climatic conditions are presumably unfavour- 
 able to its reproduction. 
 
 I have also, I think, collected a body of evidence 
 sufficient to allow of certain definite deductions to 
 be drawn, both as to the cause of the phenomenon 
 and the conditions under which it is most likely to 
 be produced. 
 
 1 Trans. New York Acad. Sci., vol x., 1890, pp. 28-30. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 375 
 
 Firstly, let me deal with what I may describe 
 as the predisposing, though not always indispen- 
 sable, factors. These are to be found in a number 
 of conditions — viz., geographical situation, orien- 
 tation of sand-hill, slope of sand-hill, composition 
 of sand, climatic or meteorological features. We 
 can then proceed to an analysis of the sounds pro- 
 duced, and of the mechanical or other causes that 
 produce them. 
 
 Although the music is heard from sand-slopes 
 or dunes of varying height and dimensions, it un- 
 doubtedly appears that it is loudest and most 
 renowned in the case of sand-hills piled up to a 
 considerable height against a background of cliffs 
 or rocks; these act in some cases as a sounding- 
 board to the music, echoing and deepening the 
 tones. We find this theatre of rocks existing in 
 the case of the Chinese Rumbling Hill, the two 
 Afghan Moving Sands, the Arabian hills of Jebel 
 Nakus and Jebel-ut-Tabul, and probably in other 
 cases. Against this background the sand, partly 
 derived from disintegration of the rocks, partly 
 swept up by the winds from the lower level, is 
 deposited by the gales in a sloping bank, as a rule 
 narrow at the summit and broadening as it 
 descends. Sometimes the sand is blown over the 
 top of the scarp by a wind from the opposite 
 quarter. In certain of the localities there appears 
 to be something either in the configuration of the 
 ground or in the action of the wind that results 
 in the concentration of the sand on the particular 
 site where the sound is produced as distinct from 
 
376 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 any neighbouring spot. The principal sounding 
 sand-hills in this category seem, as a rule, if not 
 invariably, to face either towards the south or 
 west-south-west. We hear sometimes of the sound 
 as emanating from sand patches with another 
 orientation, but in those cases the sound is much 
 feebler. In other words, the action of the sun, 
 beating continuously upon the surface of the sand, 
 and causing dryness, is a material factor in the 
 predisposing conditions. 
 
 Different authorities have given different figures 
 — doubtless arrived at without measurement and 
 as the result of a rough shot — for the angle of 
 inclination of the musical slope. Some say 40°, 
 others 50°. The more careful examination of 
 Professor Palmer and Dr. Bolton showed that the 
 angle of Jebel Nakus is 31°, which is the natural 
 angle of rest of sand; and this is the figure, 
 supported by other examples, which we may ac- 
 cept as the normal factor in the case. 
 
 In cases where the sand-slope rests against a 
 wall of rock, from the decomposition of which the 
 sand is partially formed, it is noticeable that these 
 rocks are almost always, if not always, of a light- 
 coloured friable sandstone, mingled sometimes with 
 limestone. Similarly the sonorous sand itself is 
 of the same or a similar composition, being yellow 
 or whitish in colour and consisting of mainly 
 quartz grains. The chemical composition of the 
 sand probably does not differ materially in any 
 of the Sonorous Sand-hills, whether in Asia or 
 Africa. The Barking Sands of Kauai are in a 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 377 
 
 rather different category, being, not quartz, but 
 coral-sand and shell-sand, with 95 per cent calcite. 
 In every case there is a complete absence of very 
 fine particles of silt, and dunes where there is 
 much shaly matter are not musical, although other 
 conditions may be favourable. 
 
 Although the sound is heard at different times 
 of the year, it is not surprising — viewing the large 
 part that heat and dryness play in the production 
 — that the dry season is regarded as the most 
 favourable time, at least in those parts of the 
 world where there are great variations of climate. 
 Where there is a tolerably uniform degree of heat 
 in the daytime, the precise season will be less 
 material. 
 
 It is difficult to determine the exact part which 
 the wind may or does play in evoking the acoustic 
 property of the sand. There can be no doubt 
 that, where the music is heard in circumstances 
 which admit of no mechanical or artificial causa- 
 tion, the wind is capable by itself of playing upon 
 the chords, and producing the vibration that is 
 necessary for the manufacture of the sound. 
 This is the explanation of the fortuitous occur- 
 rence of the phenomenon. Whether the music is 
 louder when the wind blows from a certain quarter 
 is not certain, although some of our observers 
 appear to have thought that this was so. Lieu- 
 tenant Newbold in particular, who was a man of 
 scientific attainments, and whose account of Jebel 
 Nakus is the best that we possess, was of opinion 
 that the action and direction of the wind were im- 
 
378 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 portant factors, and that experiment should be 
 made to ascertain the wind conditions that were 
 most propitious to sound production. 
 
 Differing from the case of the Singing Beaches, 
 to which I shall come presently — where dryness 
 after moisture appears to be the most favourable 
 condition — it would seem that in the case of the 
 Musical Sand-hills the drier the sand the more 
 likely the phenomenon. Rain having fallen a 
 short time before Lieutenant Wellsted's second 
 visit to Jebel Nakus, and the sand being still con- 
 solidated by the moisture, he did not hear the 
 music at all. Professor Palmer, at the same spot, 
 found that the cool or shaded sand produced only 
 the faintest noise, while the dry and exposed parts 
 gave forth a loud reverberation. Only in the case 
 of the Libyan sands do we hear of the music as 
 following upon rain, and here the description is 
 far from conclusive. It may, I think, therefore be 
 generally accepted that the warmth of the air, and 
 the consequent dryness of the sand, resulting in 
 incoherency of the sand-grains, are elements of 
 value in the case. 
 
 And now I come to the sound itself. A few 
 writers have made fun of the varying reports and 
 the conflicting similes of the writers who have 
 heard the music. I, on the contrary, am impressed 
 by their similarity and agreement. We all know 
 how difficult in practice it is to identify a sound, 
 for which no obvious or artificial cause is forth- 
 coming, with the notes of this or that musical in- 
 strument. One man will find a likeness here, an- 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 379 
 
 other there; and this is all the more easy if the 
 sound itself that is the subject of the comparison 
 differs materially not only at different times, but 
 at different moments of the same time. For 
 nothing can, I think, be more clear in the case of 
 the Singing Sand-hills than that they have dif- 
 ferent notes, dependent upon the degree of vibra- 
 tion set up in the sand-grains by the force of the 
 external impulse communicated to them. The 
 music seems to pass through at least three distinct 
 phases or gradations. First there is the faintly 
 murmurous or wailing or moaning sound, com- 
 pared sometimes to the strain of an ^olian harp, 
 at others to the humming of a top or the singing 
 of a telegraph wire, or, when deeper, to the chords 
 of a violoncello. Then as the vibration increases 
 and the sound swells, we have the comparison 
 sometimes to an organ, sometimes to the deep 
 clangour of a bell, more frequently, in the case of 
 the ancients, to the more resonant musical instru- 
 ments with which they were familiar, namely, 
 trumpets and kettle-drums. Finally, we have the 
 rumble of distant thunder when the soil is in vio- 
 lent oscillation and the sand-grains are striking 
 each other sharply as they glide into the vacant 
 spaces. Because one auditor hears the fainter as 
 compared with the louder music, there is no reason 
 for accusing the witness to the latter of exaggera- 
 tion. 
 
 The evidence also seems to be clear that the 
 music can be heard at a great distance. Native 
 witnesses testify to a distance of many miles. 
 
380 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 But trained and credible European observers have 
 more than once spoken of a mile. The conditions 
 under which the phenomenon has hitherto been 
 investigated have not been favourable to the col- 
 lection of scientific data of this supplementary 
 type. Probably as time passes there will be a 
 greater disposition, and perhaps fuller opportuni- 
 ties, to procure them. 
 
 Another interesting feature, about which it is 
 at present impossible to dogmatise, is the length 
 of time for which the music is heard. Few of our 
 observers have been definite upon this point; and 
 doubtless it is in large measure dependent upon 
 the degree of vibration set up and the continuance 
 or suspension of the determining cause. Captain 
 Lovett reported of the Seistan phenomenon that 
 ** it was said sometimes to last as long as an hour 
 at a time." Newbold spoke of the cessation of the 
 sound, which was co-extensive with the movement 
 of the sand, as having taken place after a quarter 
 of an hour. Here again more scientific research 
 will be of value. 
 
 Further the vibratory motion of the sands is 
 capable of being communicated to the observer. 
 Professor Palmer, at Jebel Nakus, when he swept 
 portions of the sand rapidly forward with his 
 arm, felt a peculiar tingling sensation. Lieu- 
 tenant Newbold spoke of the sensations produced 
 by the vibrations as extraordinary. Lieutenant 
 Wellsted described the rock as vibrating power- 
 fully. Other observers, standing on the sands, 
 while the music is sounding, have experienced 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 381 
 
 similar vibrations. The Englishmen who visited 
 El Bramador at Copiapo were so shaken by the 
 oscillation of the sounding sand that they could 
 scarcely stand. The American scientists record a 
 tingling sensation in the feet or hands, when 
 treading on or striking the Musical Sand Beaches 
 to which I shall presently turn. 
 
 Those who have followed me thus far will have 
 no difficulty in arriving at an opinion as to how 
 the sound is produced. We may roughly describe 
 the causes of production as three in number. 
 First, there are the occasions when the music is 
 heard, without any visible or extraneous cause, 
 i,e.j when the sand vibrations are set up by ex- 
 treme heat or drought. The Mohammedans of 
 course attempt to connect these manifestations 
 with their Sunday, which is our Friday; but he 
 would be an unwise investigator who confined his 
 visits to those occasions. Secondly, comes the 
 direct action of the wind, setting the sand particles 
 in. continuous but not violent motion and produc- 
 ing a murmuring or droning sound. Thirdly, is 
 the direct intervention of artificial agents, taking 
 the form as a rule of men or animals treading 
 upon the surface, either when climbing the sand- 
 slope or — which is easier — ^trampling down it, and 
 producing the abrupt commotion which is the cause 
 of the acute surface vibration noticed by some 
 travellers, and of the long thunderous reverbera- 
 tions rolling and bellowing in the underground 
 chambers. What the direct causes are, apart from 
 wind, the casual passage of wild animals, or the 
 
382 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 accidental fall of rocks (where there are rocks), 
 which produce the sound at night, if it is really 
 heard then, it is more difficult to determine. 
 
 We can realise also how the actual sound is pro- 
 duced. As the surface is distm-bed, the sand 
 descends in gliding, sliding festoons, the music 
 deepening as the undulations spread and the sand- 
 grains rub and clash against each other in the 
 course or their fall. The to-and-fro motion of the 
 sand-grains sends out equally spaced waves into 
 the air with a frequency exceeding forty vibra- 
 tions a second and probably very much greater. 
 It may seem strange that the slight noise produced 
 by the falling together of sand-grains should be 
 able to swell to the note of a trumpet or the roar 
 of thunder; but it is not inappropriate to refer to 
 the analogous case of the avalanche, where causes 
 the most minute can produce a final effect which 
 is colossal. 
 
 It does not appear that the movement of the 
 sand makes any material alteration in the extent 
 or contour of the slope, for, as the vacuum is 
 created and the sand descends, the empty spaces 
 fill up again from below, equilibrium is re-estab- 
 lished, and the shape of the sand-hill remains as 
 before. 
 
 Why the resonance should be evoked at one 
 attempt, and should refuse to respond at the next, 
 must be due to some local and accidental variation 
 in the condition of the sand or in the impulse com- 
 mimicated by the external agent, which it is im- 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 383 
 
 possible to determine with exactitude. For in- 
 stance, if the sand has been trampled upon on one 
 day, it may no longer lie at the angle of rest, and 
 may not become musical again until, helped by 
 wind and gravity, it has resumed the necessary 
 conditions. 
 
 The restriction of the sound to so apparently 
 limited a number of places (though I suspect that 
 this is in the main the result of imperfect observa- 
 tion) and the silence of the sand in others (apart 
 from the physical differences of site and surround- 
 ings and climate) must, I think, be attributable to 
 some essential quality or conformation in the 
 sand-grains themselves. As will be seen later on, 
 experiments in the case of Singing Beaches have 
 shown that their vocality is produced when the 
 grains are of a certain size and uniformity and 
 shape, so that they can strike against each other 
 with the minimum of disturbance. And it may 
 well be that some such distinctive properties are 
 required of the sand-grains in the Singing Hills 
 and Dunes. Here again scientific researches might 
 lead to more definite conclusions. 
 
 II. Musical Beaches 
 
 I now pass to the consideration of another 
 branch of the problem, viz., that of the Musical 
 Sands to be found in many places both in Europe 
 and America, and I doubt not (were they searched 
 for) elsewhere, on the beaches of lakes or the 
 
384 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 shores of the sea. I distinguish these sharply 
 from the class which I have hitherto been exam- 
 ining, because (a) the physical conditions in which 
 the sound is produced are quite different; (b) the 
 acoustic phenomena are on a far smaller and quite 
 inconsiderable scale; (c) they are caused not by 
 dislodgment of comparatively large masses of 
 sand, striking against each other, and humming or 
 booming as they collide and fall, but by proper- 
 ties inherent, either permanently or transiently, in 
 the sand, and capable of excitement by a number 
 of still obscure causes usually involving some form 
 of impact or compression. 
 
 Island of Eigg 
 
 The first of these Musical Sands to be discov- 
 ered and seriously noted upon in modern times was 
 that in the Bay of Laig in the little island of Eigg 
 in the Hebrides. Hugh Miller, the well-known 
 geologist, discovered this Singing Beach in 1845, 
 and described it, when struck by the foot, particu- 
 larly obliquely, as emitting at each step " a shrill 
 sonorous note, somewhat resembling that pro- 
 duced by a waxed thread when tightened between 
 the teeth and the hand and tipped by the nail of 
 the forefinger." He added: "As we marched 
 over the drier tracts, an incessant woo, woo, woo 
 rose from the surface, that might be heard in the 
 calm some twenty or thirty yards away; and we 
 found that where a damp semi-coherent stratum 
 lay at the depth of three or four inches beneath. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 385 
 
 and all was dry and incoherent above, the tones 
 were loudest and sharpest and most easily evoked 
 by the foot." ^ The Eigg beach has since been 
 visited by most of the experts who have been in- 
 terested on the subject. They have reported the 
 sand as white in colour and as composed chiefly 
 of quartz with grains of shell magnetite, silicified 
 wood, etc. When specimens have been taken 
 away and experimented with, they have retained 
 their musical character, though, after being wetted, 
 they become immediately mute. 
 
 Studland Bay 
 
 C. Carus-Wilson, who has been the principal 
 British student of the phenomenon of Sonorous 
 Sands, has also reported upon a Musical Sand- 
 patch at Studland Bay in Dorset. " The patch 
 averaged 7% yards in width and ran parallel with 
 the trend of the shore for some hundreds of yards. 
 The sand on the sea-side of the patch was fine, 
 and emitted notes of a high pitch; that on the 
 land-side was coarse, and emitted notes of a lower 
 pitch." This sand also retained its musical quality 
 after being taken off the patch and experimented 
 upon, i,e,^ struck at home.^ 
 
 1 The Cruise of the " Betsey ^" or A Summer Ramile Among the 
 Hebrides, p. 58. London, 1858. 
 
 2 Nature (London), vol. xxxviii., 1888, pp. 415-540, vol. xlix., 1891, 
 p. 322 and vol. Ixxxvi., 1911, p. 518. The author had first mooted the 
 subject in a paper entitled "Musical Sand," read before the Bourne- 
 mouth Society of Natural Science on November 2, 1888, and published 
 at Poole. Vide also Discovery, No. 5, 1920, pp. 156-8. 
 
386 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Other English Beaches 
 
 Patches of Musical Sand have been reported at 
 other places along the English coast, e.g,, at 
 Tenby and near Barmouth/ and also at Lunan 
 Bay, Forfar.^ I do not doubt that they exist in 
 many other locahties and only await discovery. 
 
 Baltic Beaches 
 
 Other Singing Beaches in Europe are those on 
 the Island of Bornholm, belonging to Denmark, 
 and of Kolberg in Prussia on the Baltic. Here, 
 as at Studland, only small tracts of the sand pos- 
 sess the acoustic property, and it is transient in 
 its operation. Dr. Berendt, who investigated the 
 phenomenon, attributed it to the saline crust on 
 the beach. But this theory is discountenanced by 
 the fact that precisely the same results are pro- 
 duced elsewhere, where there are no sea and no 
 salt. Sands from both these places were procured 
 by the American researchers. Dr. H. C. Bolton 
 and Dr. A. A. Julien, and experimented upon in 
 the course of their studies in 1884.* 
 
 American Beaches 
 
 By far the most famous of the Musical Beaches 
 are those which have been found in great numbers 
 — probably owing to the superior activity of the 
 
 1 Nature, June 1911, p. 484. 
 
 2 lUd. vol. xxxviii., 1888, p. 515. 
 
 ^ Trans. New York Acad. 8oi. vol. iii., 1885, pp. 97-9. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 387 
 
 American inquirers — in the continent of America, 
 and notably on the shores of Lake Michigan. The 
 dmie region extends along the eastern shore of 
 the lake from Gary at the southern extremity to 
 Mackinac at the northern, with few interruptions. 
 Throughout the region the sands near the water's 
 edge, in dry weather, emit a peculiar, but definite 
 and unmistakable, sound, when the foot of the 
 pedestrian pushes through them in an abrasive 
 way. The sound is produced not only by the 
 leather-shod foot, but is emitted also if the bare 
 foot or hand is struck through the grains, or if a 
 stick is trailed behind ."^ 
 
 The latest description of the Michigan Sands is 
 contained in a paper by W. D. Richardson in 
 1919. He writes as follows: ^ 
 
 The sound has been compared to that produced by 
 the pedestrian walking through soft snow ; to the crunch- 
 ing noise so frequently noticed when walking through 
 •snow after very cold weather or by the wheel of a vehicle 
 on such snow; also to the sound emitted by hard, gran- 
 ular snow when one walks through it; but it is like none 
 of these and has a distinctive character all its own. 
 
 The sound is produced only when the sand is dry, and 
 apparently the dryer the sand is the louder the sound 
 produced. In wet weather or when the sand is moder- 
 ately moist, the sound is not produced. In summer and 
 indeed in the hottest weather the sound seems to be 
 loudest, other conditions being the same, but it can be 
 clearly heard at all seasons of the year, including winter, 
 
 1 W. D. Richardson in Science, vol. 1., 1919, p. 493. 
 2 Science, vol. 1., 1919, p. 493. 
 
388 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 whenever the sand is dry. As one walks away from the 
 water's edge he may be astonished to find out that the 
 sound-producing sand ceases rather abruptly about 50 to 
 100 feet from the shore line. These limits may vary at 
 different locations, but on the whole they are substantially 
 correct. Back and away from the shore line, in blowouts 
 and on the sides and tops of the dunes, the sound is never 
 produced, There is no observable difference between the 
 sand located near the shore and that located farther back 
 or that forming the dunes, and indeed the sand which is 
 washed up by the waves is that which, blown by the wind, 
 goes to form the dunes. 
 
 The»upper beach limit of the singing «ands is practically 
 identical with the upper wave limit, that is, the boundary 
 reached by the waves during storms. This limit is marked 
 roughly by the line of driftwood and the lower limit of 
 vegetation. The singing sands are, therefore, all sub- 
 jected to periodical contact with the water of the lake 
 and are moistened and washed by that water. 
 
 These observations include, I think, all the obvious ones 
 in connection with the singing sands. The most casual 
 observer will remark with astonishment their very sharply 
 defined upper limit. As one walks from the water's edge 
 up the beach and crosses the upper wave limit he notices 
 a sudden cessation of sound as he passes the upper line 
 of driftwood and the commencement of vegetation. Be- 
 yond this point he may proceed into a blowout of clear 
 sand quite identical in appearance, macroscopic as well 
 as microscopic, and of the same composition by ordinary 
 methods of analysis, and yet this sand fails entirely to 
 produce the sound of the beach sand. His first conclusion 
 would be that the proximity of the water and waves of the 
 lake must have some relationship to the sound-producing 
 ffrains. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 389 
 
 An equally famous beach is that of Manchester- 
 by-Sea, Mass., which has been a good deal written 
 about. Thoreau is the first writer whose record 
 of the Manchester beach I have encountered.^ He 
 visited it in September 1858. 
 
 One mile south-east of the village of Manchester we 
 struck the beach of musical sand. . , . We found the 
 same kind of sand on a similar but shorter beach on the 
 east side of Eagle Head. We first perceived the sound 
 when we scratched with an umbrella or the finger swiftly 
 and forcibly through the sand; also still louder when we 
 struck forcibly with our heels, " scuffling " along. The 
 wet or damp sand yielded no peculiar sound, nor did that 
 which lay loose and deep next the bank, but only the more 
 compact and dry. The sound was not at all musical, 
 nor was it loud. . . . R., who had not heard it, was about 
 right when he said it was like that made by rubbing wet 
 glass with your finger. I thought it as much like the 
 sound made in waxing a table as anything. It was a 
 squeaking sound, as of one particle rubbing on another. 
 I should say it was merely the result of the friction of 
 peculiarly formed and constituted particles. The surf 
 was high and made a great noise, yet I could hear the 
 sound made by my companion's heels two or three rods 
 distant, and if it had been still, probably could have heard 
 it five or six rods. 
 
 Drs. Bolton and Julien, visiting the Manchester 
 Beach in 1883, described it as a small crescent, 
 three-quarters of a mile in length, and added: 
 
 1 " Autumn," from the Journal of H. D. Thoreau, p. 493. Boston, 
 1886. 
 
390 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 When struck by the foot or stroked by the hand it 
 yields a peculiar sound which may be likened to a sub- 
 dued crushing. The sound is of low intensity and pitch, 
 and is non-metallic, non-cracking. This phenomenon is 
 confined to that part of the beach lying between water- 
 line and the loose sand above the reach of ordinary high 
 tide. Some parts of the beach emit a louder sound than 
 others. The Sounding Sand is near the surface only. 
 At the depth of 1 or 2 feet the acoustic properties dis- 
 appear, probably owing to the moisture. Only the dry 
 sand has this property. The sounds occur when walking 
 over the beach, increase when the sand is struck obliquely 
 by the foot, and can be intensified by dragging over it a 
 wooden pole or board. A slight noise is perceptible upon 
 mere stirring by the hand, or upon plunging one finger 
 into the sand and suddenly withdrawing it.^ 
 
 Yet another American Singing Beach is that 
 of Far Rockaway, on Long Island, a sample of 
 the sand of which, when removed from a bottle in 
 which it had lain imdisturbed for thirty-five years, 
 poured into a stocking, and compressed, gave out 
 its original high note, audible at a considerable dis- 
 tance. This, however, after the sand had been 
 handled, it soon lost.^ 
 
 So indefatigable were the American experts in 
 their labours that, after a year of investigation, 
 they had discovered, in 1884, in answer to their 
 circulars of inquiry, no fewer than seventy-four 
 places in the United States where the phenomenon 
 of sonorous sand occurred. These were mostly on 
 
 1 Proceedings of the American Association for the Advancement of 
 Science, vol. xxxii., 1883, p. 251. 
 
 2 Science (New York), vol. li., 1920, p. 64. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 391 
 
 the Atlantic coast. In 1890, however, Dr. H. C. 
 Bolton personally visited the Pacific coast and dis- 
 covered Sounding Sands at a number of places in 
 California. He also reported the existence of a 
 sonorous sand-hill at the extreme southern end of 
 the Peninsula of Lower Cahfornia, where the 
 sound produced by the sliding sand is like that of 
 bells, and is explained by the Mexicans, like the 
 music at Jebel Nakus, as proceeding from the 
 bells of a monastery that once existed on this site, 
 but was overwhelmed by the drifting sand.^ I 
 entertain little doubt that similar inquiries would 
 produce similar results in other parts of the world. 
 
 Costa Rica 
 
 At one of the meetings of the New York Acad- 
 emy of Sciences in March 1884, after an account 
 by Dr. Julien of his visits to Eigg and Man- 
 chester-by-Sea, and other American sites, a visitor 
 arose and described his experience on the shore of 
 Costa Rica, on the Caribbean Sea, about seven- 
 teen miles south of Greytown, in 1864, where he 
 had heard at 11 p.m. on successive nights sounds 
 from the sea-beach that were " sometimes hke a 
 low roar or the barking of a dog, sometimes like 
 the voices of men conversing, sometimes like hun- 
 dreds of loud voices in the air, sometimes like sing- 
 ing, sometimes like the stringing of chords." He 
 had attributed these sounds to the fact that the 
 sand lay upon a coral reef, fissured by very deep 
 
 1 Trcms. New York Acad, of 8ci., vol. x., 1890, pp. 31-5. 
 
392 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 clefts, and he had thought at first that it must be 
 due to the movement of sea water in the hollows; 
 but he now thought it must have been the sand."^ 
 It will be remembered that the Barking Sands of 
 Kauai are mainly composed of disintegrated coral. 
 
 Other Musical Beaches 
 
 The continuous studies of the American experts 
 have revealed the existence of the same phe- 
 nomenon in such widely different parts of the 
 world as Botany Bay, New South Wales; Brown's 
 River Bay, Tasmania; Cape Ledo, and Liberia, 
 West Africa. In fact, I do not doubt that musical 
 sand is frequent in both hemispheres, and only 
 lacks the discoverer or the reporter to become 
 much more widely known. 
 
 It will have been seen how widely different are 
 these phenomena from that of the larger and more 
 vocal group of sand-hills and sand slopes before 
 described. The former share with the latter the 
 common feature of vocality arising from the vibra- 
 tion of sand-grains set in motion, but {a) they are 
 found only on the shores of seas or lakes, and in 
 a few recorded cases on the banks of rivers,^ but 
 not, so far as I know, on horizontal sand patches 
 in the interior; (b) the displacement of the sand- 
 grains requires to be only of the slightest, in order 
 to evoke the sound; (c) the nature of the sound, 
 in respect of pitch and volume, is insignificant 
 
 1 Trans. New York Acad, of 8ci. vol. iii., 1885, p. 73. 
 ziUd., vol. X., 1890, pp. 33-5, 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 393 
 
 compared with the kettle-drums and trumpets, the 
 thundering and rumbling of the great sand-hills; 
 (d) the acoustic property, given a certain degree 
 of dryness and warmth, seems to be very con- 
 sistent in its presence and action. 
 
 When we come to a scientific explanation of the 
 exact causes which produce the vibration and 
 therefore the sound, we are in an area of greater 
 speculation, for I find that no two experts wholly 
 agree. Among the theories which have been ad- 
 vanced, but which, though sufficient in some cases, 
 seem to be inapplicable in others, are equality of 
 size of sand-grains, resonance due to cellular 
 structure, effervescence of air between moistened 
 surfaces, Solaris ation, reverberation within subter- 
 ranean cavities, electrical phenomena. 
 
 The result of the experiments made by C. 
 Carus- Wilson was to convince him that the phe- 
 nomenon of Musical Sands is found (1) where 
 the grains are rounded, polished, and free from 
 fine fragments; (2) where they have a sufficient 
 amount of " play " to enable them to slide or rub 
 one against the other; (3) where the grains are 
 perfectly clean; and (4) where they possess a cer- 
 tain degree of uniformity in size, and are within 
 a certain range of size.^ If these conditions are 
 satisfied, and if the grains, rubbing against each 
 other, produce a number of vibrations of equal 
 length, then the musical note results. Elsewhere 
 he says that the notes are due to " the rubbing 
 together of millions of clean and incoherent grains 
 
 1 Nature, vol. Ixiv., 1891, p. 322. 
 
394 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 of quartz, with no angularities, roughness, or 
 adherent matter investing the grains; and that, 
 though the vibrations emitted by the friction of 
 any two grains might be inaudible, those issuing 
 from millions approximately of the same size 
 would give an audible note." ^ 
 
 On the other hand, the American researchers, 
 Drs. Bolton and Julien, rejected all these hy- 
 potheses,^ and, after years of study, arrived at the 
 following conclusion: 
 
 The true cause of the sonorous property is connected 
 with thin pellicles or films of air or of gases thence de- 
 rived, deposited, and condensed upon the surface of the 
 sand-grains during gradual evaporation, after wetting by 
 the sea, lakes, or rains. By virtue of these films the sand- 
 grains become separated by elastic cushions of condensed 
 gases, capable of considerable vibration. The extent of 
 the vibration and the amount and tone of the sound 
 thereby produced, after any quick disturbance of the sand, 
 is largely dependent upon the forms, structures, and sur- 
 faces of the sand-grains, and especially upon their purity 
 or freedom from fine silt or dust.^ 
 
 The American experts would, I understand, 
 apply this hypothesis to the explanation of all 
 
 "^Discovery, No. 5, 1920, p. 157. 
 
 2 They said that Mr. Wilson's theory might fairly explain squeak- 
 ing sand, but was insufficient to explain musical sand. They reported 
 the former as existing in two places only, both in so-called boiling 
 springs — one in Maine, the other in Kansas — where a shrill squeaking 
 sound is produced by attrition when the sand is moist. This is, of 
 course, quite a different phenomenon. 
 
 3 Trans. New York Acad. Sci., vol, viii., p. 10. Ihid., vol. x., 1890, 
 pp. 28-35. 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 395 
 
 sonorous sands, whether on sea or lake shores or 
 in the deserts. In other words, they postulate 
 everywhere some degree of previous moisture, 
 induced or exhausted by evaporation. This would 
 indeed appear to be probable enough in the case 
 of beach sands, and is supported by experiments 
 showing that the singing quality of such sands is 
 apt to become extinct after they have dried out. 
 
 How far this theory is applicable to the big 
 sonorous sand-hills cannot be ascertained without 
 meteorological data that are at present lacking. 
 But I cannot help thinking that in the majority 
 of the cases cited in the earlier part of this essay 
 rainfall must be a very rare phenomenon, while in 
 only one record of a successful visit is there any 
 mention of previous shower or storm. That 
 sonorousness anywhere is largely dependent upon 
 meteorological conditions, i.e.j the dryness or mois- 
 ture of the atmosphere, is a less contestable propo- 
 sition. 
 
 I should add that Drs. Bolton and Julien have 
 never, to the best of my knowledge, published any 
 experimental proof of the validity of their expla- 
 nation, which is not generally accepted. 
 
 Another explanation is offered by Professor 
 J. H. Poynting and Sir J. Thomson in their 
 " Treatise on Sound," ^ based on a paper by Pro- 
 fessor Osborne Reynolds " On the Dilatancy of 
 Media composed of Rigid Particles in Contact." ^ 
 
 Reynolds showed that in granular media in 
 
 1 Text Booh of Physics. London, 1913. 
 ^PUl. Mag. Ser. 5, vol. xx., 1885, pp. 469-81. 
 
396 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 which the grains are sensibly hard, so long as the 
 grains are held in mutual equilibrium by stresses 
 transmitted through the mass, every change of 
 relative position of the grains is attended by a con- 
 sequent change of volume. For such granular 
 medium he assumed that the position of any in- 
 ternal particle becomes fixed when the positions of 
 the surroundings particles are fixed: a condition 
 which is very generally fulfilled unless there is 
 considerable friction. It follows from this that 
 no grain in the interior can change its position 
 without disturbing the contiguous grains; hence 
 in a mediima in which the friction is sufficiently 
 small the movement of any one grain in the 
 medium involves the movement of every other 
 grain of the medium. 
 
 The explanation offered by Poynting and 
 Thomson is as follows : " There is an arrange- 
 ment of minimum volume for a number of equal 
 spheres in contact. We may suppose the sand to 
 consist of equal spheres arranged, when undis- 
 turbed, so as to occupy minimum volume. When 
 disturbed the mass may pass through many succes- 
 sive minima of volume before coming to rest, and 
 if we can suppose the time occupied in passing 
 from one minimum to the next is constant, a 
 musical note should issue." 
 
 The condition that the grains are spherical is 
 not an essential one, but such an assumption 
 assists the imagination and facilitates calculations. 
 The essential conditions will be that friction shall 
 be below, and that the time occupied in passing 
 
THE SINGING SANDS 397 
 
 from one minimum to another shall be constant — 
 which implies uniformity of grain. 
 
 This explanation seems to be reasonable, but 
 has not as yet been definitely proved by experi- 
 ment. A slight adaptation of Carus-Wilson's 
 idea that the sound is due to the rubbing together 
 of millions of sand-grains of approximately the 
 same size may lead us to a possible cause, or at 
 least to a contributory cause, of the musical notes, 
 and will give a note the pitch of which depends in 
 the same way on grain-size and rate of displace- 
 ment as does the frequency of the volume changes. 
 
 If the displacement of any one grain involves 
 the displacement of all the others in the mass, we 
 have millions of grains undergoing similar dis- 
 placements at the same instant. The displacement 
 involves the repeated pushing of one grain over 
 the next below it into the depression beyond. If 
 we can imagine each grain falling over the edge 
 of the grain below, striking the next grain with a 
 little impact, and repeating this with perfect regu- 
 larity every time it changes its position, we have 
 a cause for a regular train of equally spaced 
 sound-waves which, when of sufficiently high fre- 
 quency, will give a musical note. The periods of 
 the impacts will be identical with the periods 
 between successive minima of volume in the 
 Poynting and Thomson theory. The two effects 
 may go on simultaneously, and will produce notes 
 of the same pitch. The Poynting and Thomson 
 volume-change is no doubt mainly responsible for 
 the musical notes, but it is difficult to tell to what 
 
398 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 extent the actual contact of the grains is contribu- 
 tory to the sound. 
 
 And so, in this rather nebulous phase of specu- 
 lative uncertainty, I leave the Sounding Sands to 
 continue their mysterious song, confining their 
 favours to the lucky few, and exciting the curi- 
 osity, but, I hope, no longer the incredulity, of the 
 remainder. That they exist in their greater as 
 well as in their lesser manifestations will not be 
 contested. That their music covers a wide diapa- 
 son of sound, from the twanging of a string or the 
 humming of a wire to the rumbling of thunder and 
 reverberation of drums, has been shown. That the 
 phenomenon is to be explained in every case by 
 natural causes is indisputable. And if I am con- 
 scious of not having found a common theory to 
 account irrefutably for all examples, it is, in my 
 belief, because no such theory can be made to 
 apply; while in the inability to formulate it with 
 exactitude I am sustained by the reflection that I 
 am in the company of all the learned professors, 
 who, like most professors, disagree, but who may 
 perhaps be grateful to me for having given a syn- 
 thesis of the problem that may provoke their re- 
 newed examination. 
 
INDEX 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abdur Rahman Khan^ Amir, 
 53-98, 277-282 
 
 appearance of, 60-62 
 
 character of, 64-68 
 
 conversation of, 59-60, 72- 
 77, 78, 80, 85, 95 
 
 cruelty of, 65-67, 85-93 
 
 death of, 98 
 
 history of, 56-59 
 
 humour of, 63, 65, 81, 85- 
 95 
 
 irony of, 9^-97 
 
 letters of, 81-85 
 Abell, Mrs., vide Balcombe, 
 
 Miss 
 Acrocorinthos, 308 
 Afghanistan, map of, 69-72 
 
 murders in, 87 
 
 population of, 87 
 Afghans, the, 87 
 
 descent of, 72-73 
 Africa, South, 369 
 Afzul Khan, Amir, 57 
 Aissaouia, the, 35 
 Akhnaton, 104 
 Alcock, Sir R., 214 
 Amenhotep or Amenophis 
 
 III., 104-108 
 Amir Rushdi, Lieut., 362 
 Andkui, 95 
 
 Annamite Girl, The, 283-284 
 Apollonius, 117 
 Asclepiodotus, 114 
 Aughrabis Falls, 178 
 Azim Khan, Amir, 57 
 
 Baber, Emperor, 319, 327 
 
 401 
 
 Babusar Pass, 241 
 
 Babylon, 240, 249 
 
 Balcombe, Miss E., 198 
 
 Balue, Cardinal, 236-237 
 
 Bamian, 318 
 
 Banias, 308 
 
 Beaches, singing or musical, 
 
 313-398 
 Bedr, 364 
 
 Bellew, Dr. H. W., 337 
 Berendt, Dr., 386 
 Bey rout, 365 
 Birs Nimrud, 235, 240 
 Biruni, 333 
 
 Boddam-Whetham, C, 173 
 Bogota, 174 
 Bokhara, 54, 57 
 Bollaert, W., 370 
 Bolton, Dr. H. C, 338, 357, 
 
 373, 376, 386, 389, 391, 
 
 394 
 Bornholm Island, 386 
 Bostan Serai, 59 
 Boulanger, General, 27, 31, 
 
 36-37, 48 
 Brackenbury, Sir H., 55 
 Brewster, Sir D., 134 
 Brown, C. Barrington, 170^ 
 
 172 
 Browning, Oscar, 265 
 Brugsch, Dr., 134, 356 
 Bull Ring, the, 257 
 Bunji, 268-273 
 Burckhardt, J. L., 359 
 Burnes, Sir A., 320, 322-325 
 Burton, Sir R., 362 
 Butler, H. C. and Pierce, 338 
 
402 
 
 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Calascibetta, 307 
 Cambyses, 109, 110, 113 
 Carus- Wilson, C, 385, 
 Castro Giovanni, 307 
 Cauvery Falls, 182 
 Cavagnari, Sir L., 76 
 Champlain, S., 163 
 Chehilkand, 252 
 Chile, 370-372 
 Churchill county, 370 
 Clementi, Mrs. C, 173 
 Cockburn, Sir G., 197 
 Colossi of Thebes, 102-110 
 Commons, House of, 77 
 Copiapo, 371 
 Costa Rica, 391 
 Curutiba River, 177 
 
 Dakhla Oasis, 367 
 
 Darwin, Ch., 371 
 
 Datia, Maharaja of, 285-288 
 
 State of, 285 
 Diodorus Siculus, 112 
 Domitian, Emperor, 115 
 Dost Mohammed, 56, 320 
 Doughty, C. M., 361 
 Dufferin, Marquis of, 94 
 Durand, Sir M., 55 
 
 Edward VII., King, 283-284 
 Ehrenberg, Dr., 338, 341 
 Eigg Island, 384 
 Elgin, Earl of, 55, 15 
 Elias, Ney, 278 
 Essequibo River, 142 
 Etna, 306 
 Euphrates, 249 
 
 Far Rockaway, 390 
 Fayrer, Sir J., 190-191 
 Frascuelo, 260 
 
 George, King of Greece, 247- 
 248 
 
 Germanicus, 114 
 Gersoppa Falls, 143, 181-182 
 Gobi Desert, 315 
 Goldsmid, Sir F., 334 
 Grand Falls, 143, 164 
 Granevo, 260 
 Gray, H. M., 338, 341 
 Greece, King George of, 247- 
 
 248 
 Greek brigands, 302-305 
 Greek Executioner, 247-248 
 Guayra Falls, 174 
 Gurais, 55 
 Gurkhas, 245, 246 
 
 HabibuUa Khan^ Amir, 73, 
 
 98 
 Hadrian, Emperor, 98, 115, 
 
 119, 123, 127 
 Hawaiian Islands, 372 
 Hawkins, W., 282 
 Hazaras, the, 76 
 Helena, St., 194-195 
 Hennepin, Father, 163 
 Holland, F. W., 338 
 Humboldt, Baron von, 133, 
 
 177 
 Humphrys, Col., 329, 332 
 Hussein, King, SQS 
 
 Ibn Batutah, 363 
 Igidi, 368 
 
 Iguasu Falls, 142, 177 
 Ishak Khan, 93 
 Istalif, 327 
 
 Jahura, 36l 
 
 Japan, Palaestra of, 207-230 
 Jebel Nakus, 337-338, 375 
 Jebel-ut-Tabul, 363, 375 
 Jehangir, Emperor, 282 
 Jiu-jitsu, 214 
 Joselito, 260 
 Jowett, Prof., 275 
 
INDEX 
 
 403 
 
 Julien, Dr., 389, 391, S94< 
 Juvenal, 11 6, 119 
 
 Kabul, 59y 65, 66, 67, 73, 74, 
 
 75, 317-327, 319 
 entry into, 277-282 
 Kaieteur or Kaietuk Falls, 
 
 142, 167-168 
 Kairwan, city of, 27, 31 
 
 drums of, 25-49 
 Kalah-i-Kah, 334-337 
 Kalendar Mountains, 366 
 Kaluakahua, 373 
 Karnak, 101, 138, 139 
 Kauai, 372, 376 
 Keneh, Dancing Girl of, 232- 
 
 233 
 Khagan, Robber of, 241-246 
 
 valley of, 241-243 
 Khanug, 364 
 Kila Panja, 252, 255 
 Kimberley, Earl of, 55 
 King, W. J. Harding, 367 
 Kioto, 207, 210, 211, 213, 
 
 214, 227 
 Kohistan, 241 
 Kolberg, 386 
 Korea, 290 
 Koweit, 295-296 
 Kukenam, 168-174 
 
 Labrador Falls, 143, 164 
 Lagartijo, 257 
 Laja Falls, 178 
 Langberg Mountain, 369 
 Langles, M., 121 
 Lataband Pass, 65 
 Lawrence, Sir H., 187-193 
 Lenz, Dr. O., 368 
 Letronne, M., 110, 117 
 Li Hung Chang, 289-294 
 Libyan Desert, 367 
 Littledale, St. G., 252 
 Livingstone, D., 143, 146 
 
 Lockhart, Sir W., 279-281 
 LongvFOod, 194 
 Lord, Dr. P. B., 320, 325 
 Lovett, Capt. Beresford, 334, 
 
 380 
 Lowe, Sir Hudson, 197, 201 
 Lucian, 115 
 Lucknow, 188 
 
 Residency, 187-188 
 Lundi Khana, 56 
 Luxor, 108 
 
 McLean, J., l64 
 Maharaja, the, 261-262 
 Maimena, 95 
 Malaga, 259 
 Manchester-by-Sea, 389 
 Masson, Ch., 320, 321, 328 
 Mazar-i-Sharif, 93 
 Mazzantini, 257, 260 
 Mecca, 33 
 Medina, 363 
 Memnon, 109-113, 127, 129 
 
 vocal, 101-138 
 Mequinez, 35 
 Michigan, 387 
 Midian, 362 
 Milan, 264-266 
 Miller, Hugh, 384 
 Moorsom, Lieut., 193 
 Mubarrak, Sheikh, 333 
 Mukadessi, 333 
 Mysore, 181 
 
 Napoleon, Emperor, 134, 198 
 
 billiard table of, 194-205 
 Nasr-ed-Din, Shah, 274-276 
 Nauplia, 247 
 Nefuz, the, 361 
 Nejef, 235, 236 
 Nero, Emperor, 114 
 Newbold, Lieut., 338, 345, 
 
 381 
 Ney Elias, 278 
 
404 
 
 TALES OF TRAVEL 
 
 Niagara Falls, 143, 146, 149, 
 
 150, 159, 163 
 Niebuhr, B., 360 
 Nineveh, 211 
 Norden, M., 118 
 
 Odoric, Friar, 317, 318 
 
 Om Shomar, 360 
 
 Orange River Falls, 143, 178- 
 
 179 
 Orcha, Maharaja of, 285-288 
 Orinoco, 133 
 Osaka, 213, 219 
 
 Palmer, Prof. E. H., 338, 351, 
 376, 378, 380 
 Capt. H. S., 338, 354 
 
 Pamirs, the, 251, 268 
 
 Panjshir River, 327 
 
 Parana River, 143 
 
 Parwan, 329 
 
 Pausanias, 109, 115, 119 
 
 Persian Gulf, 295-298 
 
 Peshawar, 54 
 
 Philby, H. St. J., 361 
 
 Philostratus, ll6 
 
 Plantation House (St. He- 
 lena), 197, 199 
 
 Pliny, 115, 120 
 
 Plutarch, 212 
 
 Pococke, 118, 126 
 
 Polo, Marco, 315, 317 
 
 Potaro, River, 142, 167 
 
 Poynting, Prof., 395 
 
 Pritchard, M. G., 202 
 
 Raleigh, Sir W., 170 
 Rawal, Pindi, 60, 94 
 Reclus, Elisee, 356 
 Reg-i-Ruwan (Kabul), 319- 
 332 
 (Seistan), 333-337 
 Richardson, W. D., 387 
 Roberts, Earl, 76-80 
 
 Roraima, 168-174 
 
 Royal Geographical Society, 
 
 141, 283 
 Ruppell, Dr., 338, 342 
 
 Saadi, 64 
 
 Sabina, Empress, 115, 119 
 
 Sahara, 368 
 
 Salisbury, Marquis of, 294 
 
 Salverte, M., 121 
 
 Samarkand, 54, 57 
 
 Sands, Singing or Musical or 
 
 Sounding, 313-398 
 Sarhad, 251-256 
 Schomburgk, Sir R., 170 
 Seetzen, Dr., 338 
 Seistan, 333-337, 380 
 Septimius Severus, Emperor, 
 
 116, 117, 120, 128 
 Shah Nasr-ed-Din, 274-276 
 Shere Ali Khan, Amir, 57, 58 
 Shute, C, 338 
 Sinai, 337, S59 
 Smith, Sir A., 134 
 Spartianus, 98, 117 
 Stein, Sir A., 316-317 
 Strabo, 109, 112, 119 
 Studland Bay, 385 
 Sumo, 214 
 Susa, 26, 27, 112 
 Sutherland Falls, 182 
 
 Tacitus, 114, 120 
 Tarapaca, 370 
 Teheran, 274-276 
 Tequendama Falls, 143, 174- 
 
 175 
 Thebes, Egyptian, 101, 102, 
 
 104, 109, 112, 118, 123, 
 
 127,211 
 Thiy, Queen, 104 
 Thompson, G., 178 
 Thomson, Sir J., 395 
 Thoreau, H. D., 389 
 
INDEX 
 
 405 
 
 Thurn, Sir E. im, 173 
 
 Tientsin, 293 
 
 Tirah Campaign, 82 
 
 Tokio, 207, 219 
 
 Tombs of the Kings, 101, 103 
 
 Tongking, 283 
 
 Tor, 256 
 
 Torkham, 56 
 
 Tunis, 25 
 
 Tunyang, 315 
 
 Tutankhamen, 104 
 
 Varelito, 260 
 
 Viceroy of India, Lord Cur- 
 
 zon as, 68, 97, 188, 251, 
 
 268-273, 285-288 
 Victor Emmanuel, King, 264 
 Victoria, Queen, 75, 77 
 Victoria Falls, vide Zambesi 
 Vigne, G. T., 320 
 
 Wadi Hamade, 360 
 Wadi Werkan, 358 
 Wallin, G. A., 360 
 Wakhan, 251 
 Ward, H. A., 338, 351 
 
 Waterfalls, Great, 141-183 
 
 Webb, M., 159 
 
 Wellsted, Lieut. J., 3S8, 343, 
 
 359, 380 
 White, Sir G., 55 
 Wilkinson, Sir G., 112, 121- 
 
 129 
 Wilson, Captain, 338 
 Wolff, Sir H. Drummond, 
 
 274-276 
 Wood, Lieut. J., 320, 325-327 
 Wrestling, English, 212, 213, 
 
 217, 225, 30 
 Greek, 212, 220, 226 
 Japanese, 212, 214-230 
 Wyatt, J., 338 
 
 Yakub Khan, Amir, 58 
 Yellowstone Falls, 143, 165 
 Yonoff, Col., 251 
 Yosemite Falls, 143, 164-165 
 Younghusband, Sir F., 251 
 Yule, Sir H., S66 
 
 Zambesi, Falls of, 141-160 
 Zaouias, 34 
 
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