HAMATH THE GREAT
Now that the French railway system has at last extended its operations
into northern Syria, the old cities of Homs and Hama will doubtless soon
lose much of their naïveté and Oriental color and become filled with
dragomans who speak a dozen languages and shopkeepers who have a dozen
prices for the unwary tourist. Up to the present, however, the district
has been little touched by Western civilization, and we saw there a
picture of Syrian life and customs, and especially of unspoiled Syrian
politeness, not to be found in more accessible cities.
We traveled from the seaport of Tripoli to Homs in a big yellow
diligence, drawn by two horses and three mules, and driven by a couple
of unkempt brigands who, in the absence of a sufficiently long whip,
urged on their steeds by throwing heavy stones taken from a well-filled
bushel-basket which was kept under the seat. The Syrians ordinarily throw
like girls, and with as good an aim; but these men, while the coach was
rolling and creaking like a ship in a storm, could strike the left ear of
the farthest mule without any danger either to its own skull or to the
other animals.
This ugly, noisy conveyance, which took us sixty miles in eleven hours,
seemed quite out of place as a part of the Syrian landscape, and we
noticed that it surprised the rest of the country as much as it had
us. The camels were the most astonished. Along the road would be seen
approaching a distant caravan, led by a white-bearded old man riding a
ridiculously small donkey. Behind him, the long line of great animals
walked and chewed in a slow rhythm, and looked out upon the world with
a solemn gaze which made us flippant sons of a young republic feel like
crawling away somewhere and hiding for a few thousand years until we had
acquired a little mellowness.
But our mules represented the spirit of modern progress; on a down grade,
it was progress at the dizzying speed of ten miles an hour. Now, viewed
from the front, a camel looks like an overgrown chicken, and when he is
startled he acts just like a flustered fowl. So we had the interesting
experience of frightening half to death thirty of these great, clumsy
creatures, who scampered and scattered over the road in every direction
except the right one, ran into one another and knocked off carefully
balanced loads, and tied up the connecting ropes into intricate knots
which would challenge the genius of an Alexander to untangle, while a
dozen or so stalwart Arabs cursed us with a choice of vituperation
not to be found in our more stolid West—cursed with a long, deep,
comprehensive curse which included us and our fathers, the diligence’s
father and mother and distant relatives, and laid special emphasis upon
the awful destruction which was sure to overtake the religion of the off
mule.
About an hour’s journey from Tripoli there is a very old pool of sacred
fish, references to which are found in works of travel as early as the
sixth century. According to the present tradition, the souls of soldiers
who have died fighting for Islam are reincarnated in these fish. The
Moslems accordingly hold them in the greatest reverence; and if anyone,
particularly if a Christian, should harm them, he would almost certainly
be torn to pieces by an infuriated mob. While thousands of men and women
in the neighboring villages may be suffering the pangs of hunger, wealthy
zealots will buy great piles of bread for the fish; often, indeed, they
provide in their wills for a certain number of loaves to be thrown each
week into the pool. The fish, which are about a foot in length, are fat
and bloated as a consequence of this over-feeding, and are unspeakably
ugly in form and color. We estimated that there were between four and
five thousand of them in the little pool; and it was a sight not soon
to be forgotten, as they crowded after the crumbs which we threw them,
pushing and fighting so that they were often forced quite out of their
element and for many square yards the water was completely hidden by the
loathsome, wriggling mass.
After eight hours’ drive along the valley that leads from Tripoli into
the interior, a sudden turn of the road brought into full view the great
plain of northeastern Syria. We were entering this through a break in
its western wall, the pass which divides Lebanon from the Nusairiyeh
Range, inhabited by its cruel, half-pagan tribes. At our right, the
southern margin of the plain was distinctly marked by the abrupt ending
of Anti-Lebanon and of the nearer Bikaʿ. The place where the central
valley of Syria opens suddenly to the broad expanse of wheat country was
known of old as the “Entering In of Hamath,” and was the northernmost
point to which the Kingdom of Israel ever extended.[57] At the left, low
hills rise slowly up to the horizon; in front, the plain rolls out to the
unseen desert and the ruined palaces of Palmyra.
It is one of the world’s greatest battlefields that lies below us, so
vast that Waterloo and Gettysburg might be fought in different corners
and hardly see the smoke of each other’s cannonading. But no modern
conflict has engaged such hosts as were drawn up here in martial array.
They came from the desert capital, came up from Palestine and Egypt by
way of the Entering In of Hamath, came as we have come, through the
narrow pass leading from the Mediterranean. Back at the beginning of
wars, the trained armies of Egypt fought the Hittite and the Chaldean
here. After Babylonian and Persian, Jew and Syrian and Greek had become
mere subjects of imperial Rome, it was here that Zenobia, the beautiful,
talented, ambitious queen of Palmyra, received her crushing defeat at the
hands of Aurelian. Here, centuries later, Crusader and Saracen battled
for the land they both called Holy; here chivalrous Tancred led his
armies and valiant Saladin won decisive victories.
Two things stand out from the general brownness of the plain. Just below
us is the dazzling white acropolis of Homs, and ten miles to the south
is the deep blue of the lake once called _Qadesh_, the “Holy,” which was
dammed up in its little valley by a long-vanished race and worshiped
before history began.
We saw the bright reflection from the smooth sides of the mound long
before we could distinguish the town lying beneath it, and for a while we
were puzzled as to what it was—this huge, symmetrical object rising so
abruptly from the great, flat plain, and seeming doubly immense because
of the clear air and the absence of any neighboring elevation with
which to compare its height. The acropolis is, indeed, no insignificant
structure. The people of Homs believe it to be entirely artificial, and
its appearance is in favor of such an hypothesis. The circular hill is
almost a thousand feet in diameter and its platform stands a hundred feet
above the plain. The sides rise so steeply that it would be impossible
to scale them without a ladder; and, to make the summit absolutely
inaccessible to an enemy, all the outer slope of the mound formerly
bore a slippery coating of small, square basalt blocks. At present the
platform is reached by a long, winding path; but even this is so steep
as to be almost dangerous in places. During the Crusades the fortress of
Homs was held alternately by the Christians and the Saracens; and it has
suffered from so many assaults that nothing of the old castle now remains
save a few fragments of tumbling wall and a ruined gateway.
As we came down into the plain and had a nearer view of the acropolis,
we seemed to distinguish a multitude of houses beneath it; but the
difficulty of getting a true perspective had deceived us. The city lay
beyond and lower; what we now saw were not houses but graves. It was a
great metropolis of the dead; thousands and tens of thousands of mounds
were crowded close together at the foot of the fortress-hill. Some few
were surmounted by stone canopies; but most of them were simple Moslem
graves, ranged in long ranks looking toward the sacred city of Mecca,
with one stone at the head and another at the foot, for the two angels
to rest upon as they weigh the good and evil deeds of the dead. As one
approaches nearly every great Syrian city, this is the order of interest
and impressiveness; first the ruins of former power and grandeur, then
the graves of those who trusted in that power and gloried in that
grandeur, last the modern town with its poverty and squalor and ignorance.
In Greek times “Emesa,” as it was then called, was a place of no little
size and importance, and during the Roman era one of its sons wore the
imperial purple[58] and one of its daughters became empress.[59] The
modern city contains some sixty thousand inhabitants, the large majority
of whom are Moslems. The Christians are nearly all Orthodox “Greeks,”
but there is also a tiny Protestant community. We were guests of the
native pastor, and later it lent a new impressiveness to our memories of
Homs when we learned that our host was stabbed the very week after our
visit. Fortunately, however, the wound was not a mortal one. The city
is the market-place of _Ard Homs_, “the Land of Homs,” and its bazaars
are crowded with _fellahîn_ from all the country round about. The chief
industry is the weaving of silks. The citizens claim that there are five
thousand looms, and it is easy to believe this statement; as we walked
along the streets, which were well-paved and cleaner than those of most
Syrian towns, there were whole blocks where every house resounded with
the whirring of wheels and the clicking of shuttles.
The home of our host, like almost every other residence in Homs, opened
on a court which was separated from the street by a ten-foot wall. We
rose at three o’clock the next morning to catch the diligence for Hama,
said good-by all around in the lengthy Arabic fashion—and discovered
that the key to the one gate was lost. Thereupon arose great bustle and
confusion; the women rushed around looking everywhere for the missing
key, while the worthy pastor brought a clumsy ladder to help us over the
wall. But just as we were preparing to carry our heavy luggage up the
ladder, the key was found, and a hard run brought us to the diligence
with half a minute to spare.
This second coach had only two mules and one horse, and was a much
smaller affair than that which had brought us from Tripoli. Although the
driver was a Moslem to whom alcoholic beverages are strictly forbidden,
he was considerably more than half-drunk. He had neglected to fasten
the harness properly and, while we were rattling down a steep hill,
the tangle of straps and strings dropped off one beast and dangled
under his heels. Then, as soon as the harness was repaired, our driver
let his reins fall among the flying hoofs. He took these mishaps very
philosophically; much more so, to tell the truth, than we did. Doubtless
he pitied us Western infidels for our evident nervousness and lack of
faith. Suppose that the coach should indeed upset—it would be the will of
Allah, and who were we to object!
We had but one fellow-traveler, a fat old Moslem wearing the turban of a
_haj_ who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca. He was a most companionable
fellow who insisted upon explaining to us all the points of interest
along the road; and the fact that his explanations were usually wrong did
not in the least detract from our enjoyment of his company. Every time
the diligence stopped—and, with our drunken driver and worn-out harness,
this was quite often—the Haj would laboriously descend, spread out his
handkerchief upon some clean, level spot alongside the road, and turn
toward Mecca to recite his prayers. He must have been a very holy man.
The road from Homs to Hama runs almost due north, a straight white line
cutting across the green fields. It is one of the oldest highways in the
world. For at least five thousand years caravans have been passing along
it just as we saw them—long strings of slow-moving camels laden with
brightly colored bags of wheat. One could almost imagine that Pharaoh
was again calling down the corn of Hamath to fill his granaries against
the impending seven years of famine. But even here the old things are
passing. Just beyond the line of camels, a longer line of peasant women,
with dirty blue dresses kilted above their knees, were carrying upon
their heads baskets of earth and stone for the road-bed of the new French
railway. The carriage road is French, too; and a very good road it is.
We noticed some men repairing it with a most ingenious roller. A huge
rounded stone, drawn by two oxen, had its axle prolonged by a twenty-foot
pole, at the end of which a bare-legged Syrian was fastened to balance
the contrivance. If the stone had chanced to topple over, the spectacle
of the captive road-maker dangling at the top of the slender flag-staff
would have been well worth watching.
All along the journey we were reminded of the fact that this was not
only the East, but the old, old East. The soil is fertile, but the very
wheat-fields are different from ours. Only a few yards in width, they are
often of prodigious length; the thin green strips sometimes stretch away
until in the far distance they are lost over the curve of the treeless
plain. At one place the road is cut through a hill honeycombed with
rock-tombs, which the Haj said were of Jewish origin. Every now and then
we passed a _tell_, or great hemispherical mound built up of the rubbish
of dozens of ruined towns which, one after the other, were built upon
the same site. Even as late as Roman times, this was a densely populated
and prosperous district. There is now no timber available for building
purposes, and so in a number of villages the houses are constructed with
conical roofs of stone. Where the rock happens to be of a reddish tinge,
the windowless structures remind one of nothing so much as a collection
of Indian wigwams; where the stone is white, as at Tell Biseh, it
glitters and sparkles like a city cut out of loaf sugar.
“Hamath the Great,” as the prophet Amos called it, is still the most
important city between Damascus and Aleppo. It is larger than Homs and
seems more prosperous, but the difference between the two is not marked
enough to prevent considerable mutual jealousy. Hama is especially busy
in the early morning, when the market squares are crowded with kneeling
camels and the bazaars are bright with newly opened rolls of rich silks,
which may be bought at ridiculously low prices—if the purchaser knows how
to bargain.
You see the same types in other Syrian cities—rough camel-drivers, veiled
ladies, ragged peasants, underfed soldiers, Moslem wise men and reverend
Arab sheikhs. Along tourist-beaten routes, however, the picture lacks
somewhat of perfection because of the Hotel d’Orient or Hotel Victoria in
the background, and, just as you have warmed to an enthusiastic interest
in the bright scenes of Oriental life, a pert young fellow in French
clothes is apt to ask you into his shop or offer to guide you through the
bazaars at ten francs a day. But while we were in Hama there was, so far
as I know, no other Frank in the city, only one other pair of European
trousers, and but two natives who spoke any English. There is not even a
resident missionary, and on the rare occasions when American ladies visit
the city, they adopt the local costume, veil and all, in order to avoid
annoying curiosity.
The citizens enjoyed us fully as much as we did them. Everywhere we went
we were followed by a train of a dozen or two, and when we stopped to
look at anything the crowd threatened to interfere with traffic—not that
this would have seemed a serious offense to the Oriental mind! They were
so interested in our every movement that I could never get room to use
my camera until my friend would walk a little way off with an intense
expression on his face and draw the cortège after him. Yet these people
were not in the least noisy or rude and—I almost hesitate to make such
a startling statement about a Syrian city—I do not remember being once
asked for _bakhsheesh_.
The inhabitants of Hama bear the reputation of being very proud and
fanatical; but we did not find them so. We stayed with a young physician,
a recent graduate of the college at Beirut; and in the evening a number
of his friends dropped in to see us. As our own supply of Arabic was not
at that time equal to the demands of a long conversation, we essayed one
or two gymnastic tricks, only to be immediately outdone by our Syrian
acquaintances. Then the ice was broken, and we settled down to a long
evening of rough games, which always ended in somebody having his hand
slapped with a knotted handkerchief. These strangely garbed men with
their brown, wrinkled faces, entered into it all with such a childlike
enjoyment that we were soon laughing and shouting as we had not done
since the Christmas days of boyhood; and the little brazier, with its
bright bed of charcoal that sent fearsome shadows of turbaned heads and
long mustachios dancing on the white walls overhead, seemed a natural
substitute for the Yule log which that very night was burning in the home
across the seas.
As the Christians form a quite insignificant minority of the population
of Hama, they receive a degree of consideration from their Moslem
neighbors such as is not granted in cities where the two religions are
more nearly balanced and where jealousy and hatred consequently lead
to frequent reprisals. Our host, Dr. Taufik, told us that some of his
warmest friends were young Moslems. He has a large practice among the
harems of the city, and has performed heroic operations upon their
inmates. One afternoon he guided us through a narrow, winding lane
filled with evil-smelling garbage, to a rude door not over five feet
high. This was the entrance to the finest house in Hama, the residence
of one of the doctor’s Moslem patients. Indeed, Dr. Taufik told us, with
perhaps more of civic pride than strict accuracy, that it was the most
magnificent dwelling in all Syria. The great central hall was decorated
in mosaics of colored marble and overlaid with gold-leaf in intricate
patterns of sumptuous beauty. Yet, as is so often the case in the East,
the only approach to this splendid residence was through filth and odors
which would hardly have been tolerated in the worst slums of an American
city.
We later visited the home of another wealthy Moslem, also a patient
of the doctor. This time we found the master of the house seated in
the middle of the state drawing-room—being shaved. He is the only man
I have ever seen who looked dignified while in the hands of a barber.
Even with lather all over his face, he sat with the bearing of a prince
of the blood giving audience to his favorites. His attitude toward us
was marked by the most kindly courtesy. He allowed us to indulge in the
untidy American habit of wearing shoes in the house, and, although it was
the fast-month of Ramadan and he himself could eat nothing until sunset,
delicious sweetmeats were served us in delicate cut-glass dishes set on
a heavy silver tray. After we had watched our host put on his furs and
drive off behind his two beautiful Arab stallions, we asked Dr. Taufik
how much wealth was necessary for one to live in such luxury, and what
was the business of his Moslem friend. “Oh, he does not work at all,” was
the answer. “He does not need to, for he has property which brings him
an income of forty thousand piasters a year”—which equals a little over
fourteen hundred dollars!
Hama has an acropolis somewhat larger than that of Homs, but it is less
symmetrical in shape and is not so well preserved. From the summit is
seen the same far-reaching historic plain; but the attention is soon
drawn back to the city which lies just below. If the visitor has resided
in Syria, it is not the twenty-four minarets which hold his gaze, not
even the Great Mosque, which is one of many shrines that claim to guard
the bones of John the Baptist; but beautiful and interesting above all
is the river which winds its slender cord of blue through the heart of
the city. Rising on the eastern slopes of Lebanon, then passing northward
through Hollow Syria and the Entering In of Hamath, dammed up by the
old Hittites to form the Holy Lake by Homs, growing slowly as it flows
through the “Land of Hama” until at Antioch it is almost deep enough for
modern shipping—the Orontes fathered three of the great cities of the
ancient world.
There are few real rivers in this land. Although they make Damascus so
fertile, Abana and Pharpar are hardly more than noisy creeks. It is true
that parts of Lebanon fairly sweat with springs, but hardly half a dozen
of these reach the coast except as winter torrents whose stony beds dry
up completely when the summer comes. The Jordan in the far south, the
Leontes, which flows into the Mediterranean between Tyre and Sidon, and
the Orontes in the north—these complete the tale of Syrian rivers, and
Hama is the only city in the country whose stream appears as a prominent
feature in the landscape. It winds and twists so that you meet it at
almost every turn of the street. Along one bank, a line of closely
latticed windows mark the harems of the wealthier citizens; farther on, a
little group of women are washing clothes under the shade of the cypress
trees; yonder a weary train of mules are standing knee-deep in the cool
water, while a crowd of naked boys are sporting in the shallow stream
with as much energy and enjoyment as any truant brothers of the West.
It is perhaps because the Orontes goes to the northward instead of
flowing south, as do the other important Syrian rivers, that it is now
known as _el-ʿAsi_, “the Rebel”; or the name may have been given, as some
old Moslem writers suggest, because its channel is so low that the stream
cannot be used for irrigation unless its water is artificially raised.
There is a noise so loud and constant that you have almost ceased to
hear it—a dull, grave diapason, fuller and deeper than the heaviest
organ-stop. Now, slowly and painfully, it forces up a few tones of the
scale, then drops sullenly to its key-note. “Do mi sol, DO DO DO. Do sol
la, DO DO DO”—on through the day and the night and the century. It is the
music of the _naʿûra_, the water-wheels of the Orontes. You see them now
and then in southern villages, but as other cataracts are to Niagara,
so are all other water-wheels to the water-wheels of Hama. Great wooden
frames revolving painfully upon wooden axles as, by means of buckets
along the circumference, the river lifts itself up to the level of the
terraces above—these wheels approach very near to perpetual motion. We
stand amazed before one that is forty feet high, until the eye travels
down the river to another wheel of sixty feet; and our guide takes us
out to the edge of the city where a monster ninety feet in diameter is
playing its slow, solemn tune.
It is impossible to shut out the sound of their creaking. I know of
travelers who have been so distracted by the incessant, inescapable noise
that they could not sleep in Hama; but we found the music of the wheels
very soothing, like the distant roar of the ocean or a slow fugue played
on some cyclopean organ. Now they are in unison, now repeating the theme
one after another, now for a brief moment in a sublime harmony never
to be forgotten, then once more together in the unison of a tremendous
chorus. As we drift to sleep, the song of the river calls us back, back,
back to the Beginning of Things.
“Do mi fa, DO DO DO.” What care the wheels whether Saracen or Crusader
conquer in the fight below! “Do fa sol, DO DO DO.” The chariots of
Zenobia are rattling across the plain—or is it the fleeing cohorts of
the Assyrian host? “Do sol la, DO DO DO.” The dark regiments of Pharaoh
are coming up from the south, and the Hittite city rushes to arms. “Do
mi sol, DO DO _do_ do.” And old Orontes is slowly pushing around the
great wheels of the dream city, while the Iliad is unsung, and Cheops is
unquarried, and the fathers of Abram still dwell in Ur of the Chaldees.
FOOTNOTES
[1] Song of Songs 4:11f, 5:15.
[2] Isaiah 35:1f.
[3] Hosea 14:5, 7.
[4] Isaiah 60:13.
[5] See map, page 62, and cross-section, page 64.
[6] See further the author’s _The Real Palestine of To-day_, chapter III.
[7] Rev. 2:17, etc.
[8] Cf. Deut. 10:6, Josh. 9:17.
[9] In 1913, the college team defeated the champions of the British
Mediterranean Fleet.
[10] The above figures are for the current year, 1913. With this
exception, however, the chapter is not in any sense a composite, but
describes the happenings of one actual field-day held during the author’s
residence in Beirut.
[11] Since this record was made, a new athletic field with a cinder track
has been laid out adjoining the campus.
[12] This is the correct rendering of Judges 3:3.
[13] C. R. Conder, the eminent Palestinian archæologist, points out that
Arabic grammar necessitates our translating _Jebel esh-Sheikh_ “Mountain
of the Sheikh,” and derives the appellation from the fact that in the
tenth century the founder of the Druse religion took up his residence in
Hermon (Hastings, _Dictionary of the Bible_, _s. v._ “Hermon”). But no
one who has seen the white head of the tall, strong mountain can help
thinking of Hermon as itself the proud, reverend sheikh of the glorious
tribe of Syrian peaks.
[14] Cf. Luke 3:1.
[15] Sura 5:34.
[16] See the author’s _The Real Palestine of To-day_, chapter XV, “The
War-path of the Empires,” and XVIII, “The Lake of God’s Delight.”
[17] Numbers 21:33.
[18] Isaiah 2:13, etc.
[19] Job 1:15, 17.
[20] Job 1:19.
[21] Psalm 22:12, etc.
[22] Luke 3:1.
[23] _Antiquities of the Jews_, XV. 10.1.
[24] It is the Abana, or Barada, which waters by far the greater portion
of this fertile district. The identification of the Pharpar, which Naaman
mentioned also as one of the “rivers of Damascus” (II Kings 5:12), is
uncertain. It may have been one of the branches into which the Abana
divides as it passes through the city. More probably, however, it was
the river now known as the Awaj; for this is the only other stream in
the vicinity whose size is comparable to that of the Abana and, though
it flows some seven miles south of Damascus, it is used for irrigating a
considerable tract of the surrounding orchard-country.
[25] Isaiah 7:8.
[26] _Antiquities of the Jews_, I.6.4; I.7.2.
[27] The _Koran_, Sura 56:26f; 61:12.
[28] Estimates of the population of the city vary from 150,000 to a
more probable 300,000. Of this number, some 10,000 are Jews, 30,000 are
“Greek” and “Latin” Christians, and a few score are Protestants. At least
four-fifths of the population is Mohammedan, and Islam is dominant and
uncompromising in Damascus, as it is not in cities like Constantinople
and Cairo, where Moslem fanaticism is to a greater or less degree held in
check by the constant menace of interference by Christian powers.
[29] Genesis 23:11.
[30] Proverbs 20:14.
[31] This includes the American, for all who speak the English language
are ordinarily classed as _Ingleezy_.
[32] Some years ago, our minister to Turkey, who had been promised an
audience with Abdul Hamid, was made to wait half a day in an anteroom
of the palace _without being offered coffee_. So far as I know, that
fact was never published; for the American newspapers seem to have quite
missed the significance of the omission, and our representative himself
apparently did not realize that he had been publicly insulted. But the
experienced diplomat who was then in charge of our Department of State
cabled the minister, in case of further affront, to leave Constantinople
immediately.
[33] Isaiah 8:4.
[34] According to the most strict Moslem teachers, the commandment of the
Prophet (the _Koran_, sura 5:92, etc.) would prohibit the use of even the
carved figures of the chess knights.
[35] The _Koran_, sura 4:38.
[36] In this effete generation, however, those who have the inclination
and the money may take the sacred railway as far as Medina, and for many
years the majority of the pilgrims from outside of Syria have traveled by
steamer to Jeddah, the seaport of Mecca—under the direction of an English
tourist agency!
[37] See further the author’s _The Real Palestine of To-day_, chapter VII.
[38] Acts 9:11. The ancient name has survived, or possibly has been
revived, and the thoroughfare is still called _Derb el-Mustakîm_ or
“Straight Street.” Its more common name, however, is _Suk et-Tawîleh_,
the “Long Bazaar.”
[39] II Kings 5:18.
[40] Jesus is frequently mentioned in the Koran as a prophet, though His
divinity is denied and the Christian Trinity is misunderstood by Mohammed
as consisting of the Father, Son and Virgin Mary. Characteristic passages
are: “O Mary! Verily God announces to thee the Word from Him: his name
shall be Messiah Jesus the Son of Mary, illustrious in this world and
in the next, and one of those who have near access to God. And He will
teach him the Book, and the Wisdom, and the Law, and the Evangel, and he
shall be an apostle to the Children of Israel” (Sura 3:40, 43). But—“It
beseemeth not God to beget a son” (Sura 19:36). “God shall say, O Jesus,
Son of Mary, hast thou said unto mankind, Take me and my mother as two
gods, besides God?” (Sura 5:116). “Jesus is no more than a servant whom
We favored” (Sura 43:59).
[41] The _Koran_, sura 47:4, 9, 13, 37.
[42] I Kings 9:18.
[43] Joshua 9:1.
[44] Psalm 80:10.
[45] Jeremiah 22:7.
[46] Song of Songs 5:15.
[47] Ezekiel 17:23.
[48] Isaiah 2:13.
[49] Ezekiel 31:3f.
[50] Psalm 29:5.
[51] Zechariah 11:2f.
[52] East of the Jordan, between Jabbok and Arnon rivers.
[53] Joshua 11:17, 12:7, 13:5.
[54] Varius Avitus Bassanius, who took the name Heliogabalus upon his
appointment as high priest of the sun-god, was born at Homs, A. D. 204,
usurped the imperial throne at the death of his cousin Caracalla in 218
and, after a brief reign marked chiefly by its infamous debaucheries, was
murdered by the Prætorians in 222.
[55] Edw. Robinson, _Biblical Researches in Palestine_, III. 517.
[56] Literally, “the stone of the pregnant woman.” Bearing in mind the
meaning of the popular name, the reader will easily understand just how
and why I have modified the frank, Oriental form of the story which
follows.
[57] Many eminent scholars, however, follow Edward Robinson (_Biblical
Researches_, III. 568) in identifying the “Entering In of Hamath” (Judges
3:3, I Kings 8:65, etc.), not with the northern end of the Bikaʿ, but
with the east-and-west valley between the Lebanon and Nusairiyeh ranges,
through which we have just come. While I incline more and more toward
the view given in the text above, the question must be decided by one’s
feeling as to which would be the more striking and appropriate landmark,
rather than by any direct evidence. The territory included would be
practically the same in either case.
[58] Heliogabalus. See foot-note, page 191.
[59] Julia Domna, wife of Septimius Severus.
INDEX
Roman numerals refer to chapters, Arabic to pages
Abana River, 67-71, 88f, 106
Abila, 69
Abilene, Tetrarchy of, 69
Ain el-Beida, 130
Ain Fijeh, 70
Ain el-Wuʿul, 130
Aleih stories, 61f
Aleppo, Province of, 8
Anti-Lebanon, 7, 63, 67-71, 178, 204
Aurelian, 135-137, 205
_Assassins_, the, 10
Awaj River, 89n
Baalbek, XIII
Climate, 188
Great stones, 198-200
History, 189-191
Ruins, 192-197
Situation, 184f
Baal-gad (Baalbek), 189
Barada, see _Abana_
Bashan, Land of, 75
Bedouins, 129-131, 143
Beirut, City, 7, III
Bay, 35
Cape, 29
Caves, 31
Commerce, 36
History, 26f
Modern aspects, 37f
Name, 29
Olive orchards, 30
Political strife, 40f
Religious strife, 38f
Sand dunes, 30
Schools, 41-43
Water supply, 33
Beirut, Province of, 8
Bikaʿ, 63-65, 184f, 178, 204
Bliss, Daniel, 146-149
Bosra, 78
Butrus, Patriarch, 156-162
Byblos, 4, 7
Cathedral Rocks, 174
Cedar Mountain, 167, 176-179
Cedars of Lebanon, XII
Chrysorrhoas, see _Abana_
Coele-Syria, see _Bikaʿ_
Coffee, 107-109
Committee of Reform, 40
Cross, Festival of, 179
Damascus, VII-IX, 7, 15
Ananias, Tomb of, 119
Bargaining in, 98-101
Bazaars, 96-104
Beggars, 104
Cafés, 106f
Cemeteries, 116
Commerce, 95, 111
Dogs, 104
Dome of Victory, 88
Fame of, 90
Fertility, 92f
Gate of Allah, 115
Healthfulness, 70
History, 91
Jews, 118
Khans, 110
Kisan Gate, 117
Lepers, 117
Meidan, 114-116
Modern aspects, 91
Name, 90
Night noises, 105f
Omayyade Mosque, 89, 120-127
Population, 96n
Quarters, 118
Residences of rich, 111-113
St. Thomas’ Gate, 106
Saladin, Tomb of, 119f
Street called Straight, 118f
Street calls, 101f
Water supply, 70
Damascus, Province of, 8
Death, River of, 4
Deir el-Kamr, 17
Derʿa, 77
Diman, 164
Dog River, 4, 33-35
Caves of, 34f
Druse Massacres, 14-17, 78
Druse Mountain, 77f
Druses, 11-17, 78, 84, 115, 138
ed-Durazy, 11, 67
Earthquakes, 4, 32, 102
Eastern Mountains, see _Anti-Lebanon_
Edrei, 77
Emesa, see _Homs_
Feruzi, 152, 154-156
Fish, Sacred, 203f
George, St., 27-29, 116
Ghuta of Damascus, 93
Greek Catholic Church, 9
Greek Orthodox Church, 9
Hama, 64, 211-218
Hamath, see _Hama_
Hamath, Entering In of, 152, 204
Hauran, 75-87
Hauran, Jebel, 77
Hejaz Railway, 76f, 81
Heliopolis (Baalbek), 190
Hermon, Mount, 7, 65-67, 77, 178
Hollow Syria, see _Bikaʿ_
Homs, 136, 152, 190, 205-208
Homs, Lake of, 205
Institutes of Justinian, 42
Islam, see _Mohammedanism_
Ismailians, 10
Jebail, 4
Jesus Christ, 12, 27, 67, 122, 170
Job, the Patriarch, 78-80
Kadisha River, 166, 174
Kanawat, 78
Kanobin, Monastery of, 174
Karyatein, 129
Kasyun, Mount, 88
Keneiseh, Mount, 5, 52, 62, 67
Keshaya, Monastery of, 175f
Lebanon Mountains, I, 60-63
Lebanon, Province, 8, 16f
Leja, 83-85
Leontes River, 64
Maronites, 9, 14-17
Metawileh, 10
Mirage in Bikaʿ, 186
Missionaries, XI
Mohammedanism
Attitude to Jesus, 122
Images forbidden, 112f
Position of women, 113f
Power of, 194f
Muzeirib, 76
Palmyra, X, 69
History, 133-138
Modern Village, 138, 140
Ruins, 138-140
Tombs, 132
Persons incidentally mentioned:
Abdul Hamid II., 76f, 108n
Abel, 69, 88
Abraham, 88, 90f, 98, 101
Abulfeda, 93
Adam, 88
Alexander the Great, 26
Amenhotep, Pharaoh, 26
Ananias, 119
Antar, 142
Antoninus Pius, 190
Antony, Mark, 133
Argyll, Duke of, 146
Asad Pasha, 110
Ashur-nasir-pal III., 34
Augustus, 26
Aurelius, Marcus, 34
Baldwin of Flanders, 26, 91
Balkis, Queen of Sheba, 129, 190
Benjamin of Tudela, 190
Bildad the Shuhite, 78
Cain, 69
Constantine the Great, 129, 191
Diocletian, 137
Dodge, Wm. E., 146
Domna, Julia, 190, 207
Dorotheus, Professor, 42
Eliezer, 90
Esarhaddon, 34
Fakhreddin, 30
Fatima, 116
Hadrian, 168
Hakim Biamrillah, 11
Hamzeh ibn Ahmed, 11
Helena, St., 179
Heliogabalus, 191n, 207
Herod the Great, 26, 91
Hiram of Tyre, 168, 173, 183
Ibrahim Pasha, 30, 84
Idrisi, 93
Jesup, Morris K., 146
John the Baptist, 121, 123, 215
Josephus, 84, 90
Justinian, 42, 137, 168
Longinus, 135
Louis VII. of France, 91
Mohammed, 12, 93f, 116
Mukadassi, 188
Naaman, 89n, 117, 120
Nicodemus, 26
Nureddin, 91
Odenathus II., 134
Og, king of Bashan, 77
Paul, St., 91, 116f.
Pompey, 26
Post, Dr. Geo. E., 168
Rameses II., 26, 34, 79
Rib-addi, 26
Richard Cœur de Lion, 28
Robinson, Edw., 195, 204n
Rustum Pasha, 168
Sapor of Persia, 134
Selim, Sultan, 34
Sennacherib, 26, 34
Severus, Septimius, 190, 207n
Shalmaneser II., 34
Solomon, 133, 190
Tamerlane, 91, 137
Tancred, 205
Theodosius the Great, 175
Tiglath-pileser III., 34, 91
Titus, 26
Uz, 90
Vahballathus, 134
Valerian, 134
Varius, see _Heliogabalus_
Vespasian, 26
William II. of Germany, 120
William of Tyre, 78
Phallic worship, 11
Pharpar, 89n
Pilgrim Route, 114, 122
Protestants, 40
Qadesh, see _Homs, Lake of_
Railways, 60, 72f, 76f, 82, 210
Ras Baalbek, 149-152
Ras esh-Shukkah, 4
Rayak, 67
Saladin, 27, 91, 119f
Semakh, 73
Sirocco, 80
Smuggling, 32
Suk Wadi Barada, 69
Sunnin, Mount, 5, 52, 67, 178
Suweida, 78
Syria, II
Boundaries, 6
Manners and customs, 18-22
Names, 6
Population, 8
Provinces, 8
Religions, 9-13
Syrian Desert, 7, 95, 129-132, 141
Syrian Protestant College, IV, 42f, 146f
Syrians, 16, 22-25
Tadmor, see _Palmyra_
Tell el Amarna Letters, 26
Tell Biseh, 211
Trachonitis, see _Leja_
Transfiguration, the, 67
Tripoli, 8, 178, 201
Uz, Land of, 78
Vilayets of Syria, 8
el-Wesen, 140
Women, position of, 90, 113f
Yarmuk Valley, 73-75
Zebedani Valley, 67f
Zenobia, Queen, 69, 134-137, 205