Although such strict decorum is observed in all public places, there is an utter disregard of it in the harems and baths.  While a part of the women were engaged in smoking and drinking coffee, I slipped away, and went into some of the adjoining apartments, where I saw enough, in a few minutes, to fill me with disgust and commiseration for these poor creatures; from slothfulness and the want of education, morality appeared to be so degraded as to profane the very name of humanity.

I was not less grieved by a visit to a public female bath.  There were young children, girls, women, and mothers; some having their hands, feet, nails, eyebrows, hair, etc., washed and coloured:  others were being bathed with water, or rubbed with fragrant oils and pomades, while the children played about among them.  While all this was going on, the conversation that prevailed was far from being remarkable for its decency.  Poor children! how are they to acquire a respect for modesty, when they are so early exposed to the influence of such pernicious examples.

Among the other curiosities of Baghdad, I saw the funeral monument of Queen Zobiede, the favourite wife of Haroun-al-Raschid.  It is interesting, because it differs very much from the ordinary monuments of the Mahomedans.  Instead of handsome cupolas and minarets, it consists of a moderate sized tower, rising from an octagon building; the tower has a considerable resemblance to those of the Hindoo temples.  In the interior stand three plainly built tombs, in one of which the queen is buried; in the other two, relations of the royal family.  The whole is constructed of bricks, and was formerly covered with handsome cement, coloured tiles, and arabesques, of which traces still remain.

Mahomedans consider all such monuments sacred; they frequently come from great distances to offer up their devotions before them.  They think it equally desirable to erect a burial-place near such a monument, which they show with pride to their friends and relations.  Round this monument there were large spaces covered with tombs.

On the return from this monument, I went a little out of my way to see that part of the town which had fallen into ruins, and been desolated by the last plague.  Herr Swoboda, an Hungarian, gave me a dreadful picture of the state of the town at that time.  He had shut himself closely up with his family and a maid servant, and being well furnished with provisions, received nothing from outside but fresh water.  He carefully plastered up the doors and windows, and no one was allowed to go out upon the terraces, or, indeed, into the air at all.

These precautions were the means of preserving his whole family in health, while many died in the neighbouring houses.  It was impossible to bury all the dead, and the bodies were left to decompose where they died.  After the plague had ceased, the Arabs of the desert made their appearance for the purpose of robbing and plundering.  They found an easy spoil, for they penetrated without resistance into the empty houses, or without difficulty overpowered the few enfeebled people who remained.  Herr Swoboda, among the rest, was obliged to make an agreement with the Arabs, and pay tribute.