The Lands of the Saracen: Pictures of Palestine, Asia Minor, Sicily, and SpainTaylor, Bayard
History
The Lands of the Saracen: Pictures of Palestine, Asia Minor, Sicily, and Spain
Taylor, Bayard
Middle East -- Description and travel; Spain -- Description and travel
We then ascended to the Armenian bath, which is the neatest of all, but it
was given up to the women, and we were therefore obliged to go to a
Turkish one adjoining. The room into which we were taken was so hot that a
violent perspiration immediately broke out all over my body, and by the
time the _dellèks_ were ready to rasp me, I was as limp as a wet towel,
and as plastic as a piece of putty. The man who took me was sweated away
almost to nothing; his very bones appeared to have become soft and
pliable. The water was slightly sulphureous, and the pailfuls which he
dashed over my head were so hot that they produced the effect of a
chill--a violent nervous shudder. The temperature of the springs is 180°
Fahrenheit, and I suppose the tank into which he afterwards plunged me
must have been nearly up to the mark. When, at last, I was laid on the
couch, my body was so parboiled that I perspired at all pores for full an
hour--a feeling too warm and unpleasant at first, but presently merging
into a mood which was wholly rapturous and heavenly. I was like a soft
white cloud, that rests all of a summer afternoon on the peak of a distant
mountain. I felt the couch on which I lay no more than the cloud might
feel the cliffs on which it lingers so airily. I saw nothing but peaceful,
glorious sights; spaces of clear blue sky; stretches of quiet lawns;
lovely valleys threaded by the gentlest of streams; azure lakes, unruffled
by a breath; calms far out on mid-ocean, and Alpine peaks bathed in the
flush of an autumnal sunset. My mind retraced all our journey from
Aleppo, and there was a halo over every spot I had visited. I dwelt with
rapture on the piny hills of Phrygia, on the gorges of Taurus, on the
beechen solitudes of Olympus. Would to heaven that I might describe those
scenes as I then felt them! All was revealed to me: the heart of Nature
lay bare, and I read the meaning and knew the inspiration of her every
mood. Then, as my frame grew cooler, and the fragrant clouds of the
narghileh, which had helped my dreams, diminished, I was like that same
summer cloud, when it feels a gentle breeze and is lifted above the hills,
floating along independent of Earth, but for its shadow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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