Long before the signal of Essraf was given, the canvas-city had been in a state of confusion: so that by the time the sermon was over most of the tents had been folded and stowed away. Thus everything was now ready for the impetuous rush from Arafat.

The pilgrims’ jubilation was then at its height. The uproar was deafening: drums were beaten, bugles called us to make haste, and rocket after rocket exploded as it whirred through the air.... We waited half an hour or so, exchanging kisses and congratulations, and then a path was prepared for the cavalcades. The Egyptian Mahmil took the right-hand side of the road and the Syrian the left: after them charged the mounted pilgrims, followed by those on foot, all and each showing the same reckless determination to press forward over every obstacle, no matter how narrow the road might be.

This headlong stampede after the sermon on the Mount is historic. It never grows stale with the years. The havoc it wrought in 1319 of the Flight it would be quite impossible to exaggerate; for the confusion which has become traditional was increased fivefold by the number of pilgrims, a number that was vastly greater than any within the recollection of the authorities. Women and men swooned in the crush and were trampled to death—litters were overthrown and smashed in pieces—camels were trodden under foot: but neither disaster nor death could, in the slightest degree, glut the wild desire by which the crowd was moved—the desire, namely, of being more completely possessed by the feeling of a religion-wrought delirium. It was not a triumphant procession of peaceful pilgrims, therefore, though that is undoubtedly what it should be; it was a charge of religious madmen running amok. How many were killed or maimed, I can hazard no guess; but of this I am quite certain,—the casualties had not been so terrible on any previous occasion within the memory of man.

Thus the dense mass moved on, and about the hour of midnight we reached Muzdalifah. There we halted for the night, the pious passing the time in praying and reading the Kurán. Very few pilgrims took the trouble to pitch tents here, the vast majority of them sleeping on the ground. Before lying down to rest, Seyyid ’Alí and I collected forty-nine stones apiece for the Lapidation of the Devil in the valley of Mina.

Now, this ceremony takes place three times: first, between sunrise and sunset on the 10th of the moon when every pilgrim must fling seven stones at a buttress, situated at the Meccan entrance to the valley, and called the Great Devil. These seven stones must be gathered at Muzdalifah, and have to be washed seven times and each time in fresh water. On the following day, the 11th, twenty-one stones must be thrown: seven at the Great Devil as before, seven at the Wusta or Central Point in the middle of the valley, and, last of all, seven more at the Ula or First Place lying at that entrance to Mina which faces Arafat. All these twenty-one stones may be gathered either in the valley itself or at Muzdalifah on the return journey; but they, too, must be washed seven times and each time in fresh water. The same rules apply to the third Lapidation, which is held on the 12th of Zú-’l-hijjáh: and the three ceremonies aforementioned are performed in commemoration of the tradition that Abraham was tempted three times of the Devil, at those very places in the valley, what time he was about to sacrifice his son Ishmael. Now the first day, which is the 10th of Zú-’l-hijjah, is called the Day of Victims, while the two following days are called the Days of Drying Flesh in the Sun.

Awaking early, my party set out, at peep of day, to the sacred monument hard by, where, amid scenes of indescribable solemnity, the Festival Prayers were celebrated by the Kazi of Mecca, who also preached a short sermon. Departing thence at sunrise, we arrived at Mina about nine o’clock, one of our servants dying of cholera on the road. We buried him where he fell, each one of us wondering if his own life would be the next to come to an end. What would happen after the slaying of the victims we dared not think. The prospect looked gloomy in the extreme.

Having eaten a good meal, we traversed the valley in the direction of Mecca, in order to be rid, as soon as possible, of the tiresome duty of stoning the Great Devil. When we reached the entrance to the valley, it was to find our access to his Satanic Majesty blocked by a vast concourse of excited pilgrims. The road, about thirteen yards wide, was packed with horsemen, camel-riders, litters, pilgrims on foot, and women in kejavehs, all struggling and fighting to get within stone’s throw of the buttress which rests against a wall that is only a little higher than itself which is—say, three yards high by two yards broad. Of the Orthodox sects the Shafeis are the most privileged, for they are allowed to stand at a distance of five cubits from the Devil, whereas the Hanefis are supposed to make their attack the more formidable by fighting at close quarters—within arm’s reach of the Arch Foe.

And all the while the great mountains frowned down upon us; very awe-inspiring I found them: the seven stones I had brought along with me fell at my feet only to be picked up by Seyyid ’Alí.

“Come, yá-Moulai,” said he: “the devil is not so big after all. See, I will fling your stones as well as my own at little devils like myself.”

After this “ceremony” was over, we returned to our camp where a barber was waiting “to bring me out of Ihrám.” When he had trimmed my hair, shaving it round the nape of the neck, and had cut my nails, I made to take off the pilgrim’s garb, saying—“In the name of God the Merciful and Compassionate, I intend to doff my Ihrám of pilgrimage, according to the usage of it by the Prophet, on whom be blessings and glory! O Allah, reward me to the number of the hairs of my head with Light, Purity, and Grace. In the name of God—God is great!” Upon this the barber helped me to undress and (after I had had a bath) to put on my gala attire which was Egyptian in make and in material.

By this time the servants had purchased the victims, and they now came to tell me that all preparations had been made for the sacrifice. I deputed Seyyid ’Alí to slay my harmless sheep, from a sudden invasion of squeamishness. And before the day was over the valley of Desire was turned into a reeking slaughter-house, and, it may be added, into a cemetery for the dead pilgrims. These also were victims—the victims of the misdirected religious zeal which had prompted a slaughter that served no other purpose than to spread the epidemic. The less said of it here the better. I have no wish to make the reader sick. It will be enough to add, to what has been said in a previous chapter, that the camels were sacrificed by none but grandees, who dispatched their victims with the words: “In the Name of God! God is great!” the same words being used by the other pilgrims in sacrificing the sheep!

All beasts of prey are believed by the superstitious to keep away from the valley during the Day of Sacrifice and the Days of Drying Flesh; for, had not the victims been brought down from heaven by angels, and driven by them under the guidance of Bedouin shepherds, to the place of slaughter? But the truth is that the Takruri negroes were more blood-thirsty than any of the carnivorous animals or birds of prey: they laid in wait until the sheep were killed, feasting their eyes on the creatures’ dying agonies, and then pounced on the carcases like hungry vultures.

Now, a great many pilgrims, after casting off the Ihrám and putting on their festival attire, went at once to Mecca, visited the Ka’bah, repeating the ceremonies already described, and then returned to Mina to slay their victims. One of our party who had taken this course fell sick of the cholera on the road, and the news of his grave condition reached us at mid-day. We therefore determined to take up our quarters in Mecca, for our comrade’s sake, and to return to Mina, day by day, in order to complete our stoning of the Devil. Sheykh Eissa, however, remained behind to take charge of our camp; and when we got back again next morning, it was to hear from him a flamboyant account of the fireworks and jollifications of the Great Festival that we had missed. We listened to his stories of the too-unfettered revelry by night with heavy hearts, for our friend was dead. Outside, the whole valley stank like a shambles, hundreds of pilgrims having succumbed overnight to the cholera epidemic; and so, when we had stoned the Devil for the second time, we bent our steps again to the Holy City, taking care to remember our comrade in our prayers as we passed by the mosque of Khaif. There we saw some poor pilgrims drying the flesh of a dead sheep—a revolting spectacle. Next day, the 12th of Zú-’l-hijjah, we cast the remaining twenty-one stones at the three buttresses in the Valley of Desire, and were ready on the 13th to join the little pilgrimage to Al-Omreh—a mosque near the pillars of Alemeyn—having to that end performed ablutions with the water of Zem-Zem, and put on the ihrám once more, and made our declaration of intention opposite the Black Stone. It took us about three hours to reach the sacred spot where we said a two-prostration prayer after having subjected our heads and hands and feet to a second ablution. Then we rode back to Mecca and again went through all those ceremonies within the Harem and between Mount Safá and Mount Marveh which have been described in the earlier pages of this narrative. This brought the little pilgrimage of Omreh to an end, and the ihrám was finally removed. Thenceforward the streets of Mecca were crowded with pilgrims dressed in every costume of the East.

I remained a week in the Holy City after the Day of Victims—indeed, no pilgrim could bring himself to leave the Kiblah of the Faith before the 18th of Zú-’l-hijjah—and whiled away the time by frequent visits to the Harem and the bazaars. By these means I added considerably to my knowledge of the pilgrims and their ways. The result of my observations will be found overleaf.

On the 18th I attached myself to a strong caravan bound for Jiddah, and there I said good-bye to Seyyid ’Alí. The reader will meet him again, however, in the brief pages of Part III.