Eothen | Page 6

from the bath (for so is the custom of the
Ottomans when they start upon a journey), and was carefully accoutred
at every point. From his thigh to his throat he was loaded with arms and
other implements of a campaigning life. There is no scarcity of water
along the whole road from Belgrade to Stamboul, but the habits of our
Tatar were formed by his ancestors and not by himself, so he took good
care to see that his leathern water-flask was amply charged and
properly strapped to the saddle, along with his blessed tchibouque. And
now at last he has cursed the Suridgees in all proper figures of speech,
and is ready for a ride of a thousand miles; but before he comforts his
soul in the marble baths of Stamboul he will be another and a lesser
man; his sense of responsibility, his too strict abstemiousness, and his
restless energy, disdainful of sleep, will have worn him down to a

fraction of the sleek Moostapha that now leads out our party from the
gates of Belgrade.
The Suridgees are the men employed to lead the baggage-horses. They
are most of them gipsies. Their lot is a sad one: they are the last of the
human race, and all the sins of their superiors (including the horses) can
safely be visited on them. But the wretched look often more
picturesque than their betters; and though all the world despise these
poor Suridgees, their tawny skins and their grisly beards will gain them
honourable standing in the foreground of a landscape. We had a couple
of these fellows with us, each leading a baggage-horse, to the tail of
which last another baggage-horse was attached. There was a world of
trouble in persuading the stiff angular portmanteaus of Europe to adapt
themselves to their new condition and sit quietly on pack-saddles, but
all was right at last, and it gladdened my eyes to see our little troop file
off through the winding lanes of the city, and show down brightly in
the plain beneath. The one of our party that seemed to be most out of
keeping with the rest of the scene was Methley's Yorkshire servant,
who always rode doggedly on in his pantry jacket, looking out for
"gentlemen's seats."
Methley and I had English saddles, but I think we should have done
just as well (I should certainly have seen more of the country) if we had
adopted saddles like that of our Tatar, who towered so loftily over the
scraggy little beast that carried him. In taking thought for the East,
whilst in England, I had made one capital hit which you must not
forget--I had brought with me a pair of common spurs. These were a
great comfort to me throughout my horseback travels, by keeping up
the cheerfulness of the many unhappy nags that I had to bestride; the
angle of the Oriental stirrup is a very poor substitute for spurs.
The Ottoman horseman, raised by his saddle to a great height above the
humble level of the back that he bestrides, and using an awfully sharp
bit, is able to lift the crest of his nag, and force him into a strangely fast
shuffling walk, the orthodox pace for the journey. My comrade and I,
using English saddles, could not easily keep our beasts up to this
peculiar amble; besides, we thought it a bore to be FOLLOWED by our
attendants for a thousand miles, and we generally, therefore, did duty as
the rearguard of our "grand army"; we used to walk our horses till the
party in front had got into the distance, and then retrieve the lost ground

by a gallop.
We had ridden on for some two or three hours; the stir and bustle of our
commencing journey had ceased, the liveliness of our little troop had
worn off with the declining day, and the night closed in as we entered
the great Servian forest. Through this our road was to last for more than
a hundred miles. Endless, and endless now on either side, the tall oaks
closed in their ranks and stood gloomily lowering over us, as grim as an
army of giants with a thousand years' pay in arrear. One strived with
listening ear to catch some tidings of that forest world within--some
stirring of beasts, some night-bird's scream, but all was quite hushed,
except the voice of the cicalas that peopled every bough, and filled the
depths of the forest through and through, with one same hum
everlasting--more stifling than very silence.
At first our way was in darkness, but after a while the moon got up, and
touched the glittering arms and tawny faces of our men with light so
pale and mystic, that the watchful Tatar felt