_Beyroot, August 26th, 1836._
I have just returned from a tour to Damascus, Baalbec, and the
far-famed Cedars of Lebanon, and will attempt a brief account of
these places, and my adventures by the way.
I had the company of Mr. B----, Angelo to cook for us, and a
muleteer, who took care of our mules, and who ought to have been our
guide, but who, on trial, was found not to know the way himself--a
state of things not uncommon in this country--and did it not
extend to higher matters than to find the road from one place to
another, it would not be so bad; but from all I see and hear, it is
most dolefully the case in the great matter of finding the way to
everlasting life. Guides there are many in religion, but few, if
any, understand the way of salvation through our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ. It is, indeed, astonishing how far the great mass of
those who in these regions call themselves Christians, have sunk
in darkness and ignorance respecting the most plain and leading
principles of the word of God. The priests are "blind leaders of the
blind."
As we set out for Damascus, from Bru-ma-nah on the mountain, we
did not follow the usual road to Damascus from Beyroot, but took
a more direct route. We made for the lower part of Mount Lebanon,
between the Sun-neen and Jebal Knee-se. I had before passed over
part of this, on my tour to the Sun-neen, some account of which I
have already given you. Part of our way, however, before reaching
the top, was new, but did not differ much from what I had before
seen. We passed a considerable village, where the Jesuits are said
to have a school. It is in a lovely, romantic spot, and near a most
tremendous precipice.
The descent from the top to the plain is much greater than I
supposed, when on the top. It took us above two hours to reach
Zahle, which stands on the lower part of the mountain, and at some
distance above the level of the plain. The side of the Lebanon
next the plain is not quite as rough and rocky as the other; in
other respects it does not essentially differ. The cultivation may
possibly extend farther up--the rock more disintegrated, and the
strata not as distinctly marked,--the general course of the ridge
was more regular and uniform. The road, as we approached Zahle, was
better than any I have seen on the mountains--it passed through a
considerable extent of vineyards, and labour had been expended upon
it--it was very passable, a rare thing in these parts.
A little above Zahle, and in and near it, a number of fine springs
arose, and their effect on the vegetation was most striking; while
the whole face of the mountain presented a most dry and parched
aspect, with only here and there a bush to be seen, the heads of the
little hollows about Zahle--a small district near the town, and a
narrow slip along the waters, widening as it approached the plain,
were rich in verdure, and abounded with the Lombardy poplar, the
willow, the white walnut, and a variety of fruit-trees. You could
trace most clearly where there was water by the vegetation which
there covered the ground. Yea, you could point out most distinctly
where the water was carried along the hill sides, in trenches, by
the verdure which covered the whole district below, while all above
was almost destitute of vegetation. The rising of water above and
near the town, being very considerable, and being carried along the
hill sides, and extensively used in irrigation, a larger district
about this town was covered with trees, and bore more marks of
productiveness than any I have seen in these quarters. A little
below the town were some mills on this water-course, and many lovely
gardens lay on all sides. The town Zahle contains from eight hundred
to one thousand houses. They are crowded together, with narrow,
crooked streets; and, like all other towns in this land, it has
no claim to cleanliness. Judging from what I saw, the houses are
universally built of unburned brick, made with a good deal of _short
straw_ mixed with them, no doubt to prevent them from breaking to
pieces. The houses are of one story, have flat roofs, where people
are often seen walking or lounging, and on which various things are
deposited.
It being about sundown when we entered the town, we made some
inquiries for lodging. There are usually in the towns, and
occasionally on the roads, houses built for the accommodation
of travellers, called khans. They have rooms, but are entirely
unfurnished, and the traveller is expected to provide for himself.
They are beginning to keep, at some of them, the more necessary
articles of food for man and beast, which the traveller may obtain
at a reasonable price. Having, in some of my former tours, been
greatly annoyed with _fleas_, and knowing these khans are the
very _head-quarters_ of such gentry, we were rather on the watch,
and made inquiry before alighting, whether they had any fleas in
their establishment? They assured us that they had "a _plenty_!
_plenty!_" We declined stopping, and passed on amidst the laugh
of the bystanders. It began, however, to grow dark about the time
we got out of the town, and after passing down the stream, among
the gardens, for some time, and not finding a place that offered a
good encampment, we were constrained to put up at a house on the
road side, and sleep in a kind of open court. We found, to our
discomfort, that we had not much mended the matter. We were most
grievously beset with fleas, which were as greedy as if it was the
first Frank blood they had tasted, and feared it might be the last.
We found in the morning that we were in the immediate neighbourhood
of a considerable body of the pasha's troops. Their parade-ground
was over against us; arranged along one side I counted thirty-six
cannon drawn up, and as we passed, we saw a considerable number of
artillery-men, five or six in a company, manoeuvring, each under the
direction of an individual. Several of these groups had a _little
carriage_, not more than a foot long, a perfect toy, with a string
to it, and were drawing it about and manoeuvring it in place of the
cannon. It was laughable to see five or eight great awkward fellows
pulling about a little toy, like a waggon, which a baby could have
thrown about at pleasure. This is the Egyptian version of European
tactics.
There was near this place, which was on the edge of the plain, a
most noble threshing-floor. It was a large space of several acres,
and there may have been from a dozen to twenty floors, without
any partition between them. On some of them people were employed
in threshing grain, others separating the straw and chaff from the
wheat; on others lay great piles of grain, some clean, and others
mixed with the chaff and straw. They separate the wheat by throwing
it up and letting the wind blow the chaff away. Of course they must
wait for a wind. I saw no instrument to make wind. The threshing
instrument is a board, about three feet in width, and six or eight
feet in length; at the fore end it is turned up, a little like a
sleigh. The board is about three inches in thickness. On the under
side many holes are cut in it, from an inch and a half to two
inches, and in these are fastened pieces of stone, flint, or iron;
these project nearly an inch from the face of the board and serve as
teeth, to tear the heads of the grain in pieces. Oxen are fastened
to the front of these boards, and driven round the floor, drawing
this instrument after them. The driver of the oxen usually sits or
stands on the instrument. This is the common threshing-machine in
these countries. I see it everywhere--and I have seen no other. It
would seem that it is the same instrument that was used in the days
of the prophet, who speaks of a "new threshing instrument having
teeth." The oxen are usually without muzzles, and often, as they
pass round, take up a few straws and feed on them. "Thou shalt not
muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn." I do not recollect of
ever seeing the horse used on the floor--the oxen very often.
As we passed the threshing floor, in and around which were many
cattle, I could not but notice a fact of which I had often heard and
read, but had not before seen--the collecting the manure that fell
from the cattle and preparing it for fuel. A female was employed in
collecting it with her hands, working it into balls, and sticking
it in flat cakes against the walls of the houses to dry--when dry,
it was collected in piles and laid on the house-tops, or made in
little stacks in the yard. When well dried it burns very well, and
will make a fire sufficient to boil coffee. On some occasions,
during our tour, we were glad to get it, and found it did very well.
This throws light on a passage in Jeremiah, where he is directed
to prepare his food with fire made of human excrement--the prophet
entreated, and was allowed to take cows' dung. This is a common kind
of fuel in many parts of this country. The prophet was only directed
to do as his people generally did.
Our course took us directly across the celebrated plain of
Celo-Syria. It is nearly a dead level--we were about two hours and a
half in crossing it, which, at three miles an hour, the usual rate
of travelling on mules, will make it about eight miles wide. This
is less than I stated in a former letter. I mentioned then what a
gentleman who had crossed it gave as its supposed width. I now give
what _I_ found it to be. It may, however, vary in width at different
places, and no doubt does. There are very few trees on the plain.
Near the villages, and there are usually several in sight, some
trees may be seen, and at a few of the villages are considerable
groves of them. As regards the great body of the plain, not a tree
or a bush is to be seen--not a fence--not a hedge--not a house,
except at the few villages.
On the plain, where we crossed, there was a little water. The stream
which flowed in from Zahle is parted and carried into the plain,
and used in irrigation; and it would seem nearly if not wholly
exhausted in this way. Near the farther side of the plain, we
passed several channels that contained water, but the amount was
not great. The water had but a slow, dull current, and the ground
being soft, we had a little difficulty in crossing, as we feared
swamping. There appears to be a stream of water entering the plain
from the Anti-Lebanon, a few miles north-east of Zahle; for on that
side of the plain we found most water; and when we entered the plain
on our return from Damascus, which was half a day's journey to the
north-east, we saw scarcely any water, except this stream passing
in--south-west. The channel shows that more water flows in at times,
but it is never more than a small stream--never deserves the name of
a river.
Much of the plain appeared to have been cultivated with small grain.
It was now gathered about the threshing-floors, several of which
were seen in different directions. I saw also several lots of Indian
corn, and a field that looked almost precisely like what with us is
called broom-corn. It is, I believe, the millet, here called durah.
The corn was a most diminutive kind, and the same is the case with
all the corn I have seen in the East. It was beginning to tassel and
silk, and yet its general height was not above four feet; with us
such a field of corn would not be thought worth anything. It was, I
believe, of the usual size and promise.
We passed several fields of the castor-oil plant, and were informed,
on inquiry, that they extract the oil from it. It did not seem to
grow as well as I have seen it in other countries.
We saw several encampments of Bedouins on the plain. Their tents are
said to be made of goats' hair. They are black--"black as the tents
of Kedar," thought I. There were many flocks of sheep and goats
about their tents. The Bedouins look almost as black as their tents.
They are a dirty-looking set. We spoke to several of them, and
tried to get a drink of milk. They, however, were so indifferent and
slow, and showed so little inclination to serve us, that we passed
on. I noticed before one of their tents, a huge skin, suspended on
forks. It either had been taken off the animal nearly whole, or had
been sewed up. It was full of milk, which they were shaking, and
thus churning it, making butter, or something of that sort. I did
not much envy the eaters of it--but every man to his liking.
The whole plain lay open; and as far as we could see, without any
landmarks to point out the special property-rights, which particular
persons may have to parts of it. There are no fences, nor hedges,
nor even ditches, for the purpose of designating property. There
are, it is true, channels cut in different directions through the
plain for the purpose of irrigation; but only for that purpose. The
flocks that wander over the plain, are under the care of keepers;
whose business it is not to allow them to commit trespass on spots
under cultivation; except there, the flocks go pretty much where
they please, and eat whatever they can find; and really they appear
to have a poor chance to find much; the above spots excepted.
The Anti-Lebanon lies on the south-east side of this plain; and is
very much such a mountain as Lebanon. It is, perhaps, as a general
thing, not quite so high. Still, to the south of us it attains to
a great elevation, and its upper part in that direction has much
snow upon it. These two mountains, the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon,
are nearly of the same appearance; and are nearly parallel to each
other, having between them the plain, nearly level, of an average
width of from six to ten miles, in the part that I have seen. Our
road, which was but a path for mules and donkeys, led us directly
up the mountain, winding and crossing a hollow, that ran up to the
top. The ascent was steep and fatiguing, and took us about three
hours. There were a few thin bushes, and as we got up into the
mountain we found a good many oak-trees--a few of them of the size
of a small apple-tree, but most of them were only six or eight
feet high. As we approached the top, these were discontinued; and
over the whole of the upper part of the mountain, there was almost
a total want of vegetation. A few stunted thistles and bunches of
furze were almost the only vegetable growth to be seen.
On the top of the Anti-Lebanon, where we crossed, there was a
general level of four or five miles. Possibly this may not be a fair
sample of the width of the mountain, as we may have passed over
an unusually wide place. As far, however, as we could see, there
appeared to be a wider flat on the top than any I had seen on the
Lebanon. The rock, as far as I observed, was wholly limestone. It is
all of the secondary formation, and appears to be of a softer kind
than that which composes the great mass of the Lebanon. It is much
more affected by the action of the weather, and is greatly broken
into fine pieces: this is the case on the top; we often passed over
beds of fine broken stone almost like gravel. The stratum, from the
yielding character of the rock, was not so clearly to be traced as
on the Lebanon. At some places, however, it could be seen; and the
general position of the stratum approached the horizontal. There
were, however, many deviations from it: I noticed several small
locations which had the dip to a very considerable degree. This was
especially the case in some small elevations, or secondary hills,
next the plain.
We had a pretty long, and part of the way a rough, descent to
the narrow and beautiful valley of the Bareda. The rock, as we
descended, retained much of the character which it had on the
top. There was, in places, much rock on the surface; tremendous
precipices; piles of rock heaped on each other, as if mountains of
earth had been washed away and all the rock left.
In the plain, at the point where we reached it, is the town of
Zebdane. It is near the head of the plain, and is well watered by
the upper springs of the river Bareda, or Bariade, as it is at
times spelled on maps. The town has several hundred houses, mostly
inhabited by Mohammedans. The waters are here taken out of the bed
of the river, and spread over the plain. There is quite a grove
of trees in and near the village. The houses are not so crowded
together as we often find them in other villages; many of them have
gardens, which are filled with trees--the mulberry, poplar, willow,
hickory, apple, plum, and other fruit-trees. Much of the town is,
indeed, well furnished with shade; and is a most lovely spot, in the
midst of a dry, parched land.
After six hours' exposure to the burning sun, the cool shades
of Zebdane, its flowing waters and rich gardens had powerful
inducements to stop us. In truth, we needed both rest and
refreshment. We had set out early from Zahle, that we might cross
the plain, and ascend the mountain before the heat of the day set
in, intending to breakfast on or near the top of Anti-Lebanon; but
when we reached the summit we found no water, and our muleteers had
neglected to fill our leathern bags. There was no alternative but to
go on. The burning sun on the top, added to the fatigue, made us all
suffer for water; but none was found until we were close to Zebdane.
When about to begin our descent, however, we met several muleteers
with mules loaded with fruit, which they were carrying probably
to Beyroot or Tripoli: in the fruit season, much fruit is brought
from Damascus to Beyroot, Tripoli, and other places on the coast.
Supposing that the mules had fruit in their packs, I was casting in
my mind how we could induce them to let us have some, especially for
quenching our thirst, when the foremost muleteer, while yet eight or
ten yards from me, put his hand into his bosom, took out a handful
of apples, and, with a kind salutation, handed them to me. I know
not that the apples were better than usual, but I know that I have
seldom eaten apples with a finer relish; they were most refreshing.
Feeling much in need of our breakfast and rest, we passed through a
part of Zebdane, hoping that we could find a cool and comfortable
place for both these purposes. We wished, in short, to get into
some one of the gardens, and under its trees loaded with fruit, and
near the cool streams of water we saw flowing through them, take
our rest; but no one invited us in; and to one or two applications
we received a refusal. We stopped under a large tree in the street,
and were about spreading our carpet, when a very good-looking female
came out of a garden near us, and very kindly invited us in.
A stream of water ran through her garden; near it was a small fire,
and preparations for washing. She had been washing clothes. A young
female, whom I took to be her daughter, and a little boy, her son,
were with her. Although her clothes were rather soiled, they were
of a texture that indicated wealth: both she and her daughter wore
rich ornaments. The daughter had a clasp of silver on each arm, of
an inch and a half in width; and two of gold, about three quarters
of an inch wide; with rich ear-rings, &c. Their manners had the ease
and frankness of well-bred persons who have been much in company.
They pointed out to us a good place to spread our carpets, gathered
us some fruit, and sat down near us, and conversed pleasantly and
cheerfully. They spoke of our clothes in a complimentary manner;
said they would be very pretty, were it not that our pantaloons
were too tight. This last was a hit at me mainly, as my companion,
Mr. B., had on the _Persian_ pantaloons, which are of most ample
dimensions. It was said with great good-humour, and even a little
apparent blushing, by the good ladies. Mr. B., who acted as
interpreter, enjoyed the laugh at my expense not a little. I felt
half inclined to retaliate on them--that even tight pantaloons
were more modest than absolutely naked breasts. But Mr. B. was not
inclined to interpret it for me, and, on second thought, I let it
pass. Fashion is an odd thing! My pantaloons were of the ordinary
size--what, indeed, many would call large; yet they were not thought
modest by these good, oriental ladies, as showing too plainly the
shape of the lower parts of the body; while _they themselves_ had
their breasts almost wholly exposed! Such is the fashion of the
ladies here. Indeed, I have often been not a little provoked at the
exposure which females here make of the upper parts of their bodies:
they cover their faces, and expose their breasts. But thus it is
in the East, or in this part of it; and fashion has its influence
here as well as in the western world. If there be no disputing about
taste, there may be some little about fashion.
When our breakfast was ready, we had quite a company of people to
see us eat. We gave them but a poor sample of Frank manners, as
from necessity we had to eat _à-la-turque_, at least in part. They
were much interested with the looks of our loaf of white sugar, and
we had various applications for small pieces. But as it was a fast
with them--that is among the Greeks, and our visiters were mostly
of that church--they did not eat the sugar we gave them, but laid
it away until the fast should be over. The same took place with
some sweet-bread we gave them. They would not let the little boy I
mentioned eat what I gave him, but took it from him to keep until
the season of fasting was over. I doubt whether he will ever get all
of it.
The valley in which Zebdane is situate may be on an average from
three quarters to a mile wide; there are several other villages
in it; and it extends five or six miles in length. Its general
direction is from north-east to south-west, nearly parallel to the
plain of the Bokar. The parts of this plain that are irrigated by
the waters of the Bareda, and the several springs that rise along
the foot of the mountains, appear productive, and are covered with
vegetation, and a space for a mile below the town is covered with
gardens and trees of various kinds. The remainder has rather a
sterile and naked appearance. The mountain that lies south-east,
has especially the most utterly barren aspect of any district that
I have ever seen. Above the little green spots, that along its
foot mark the places where water rises, there is hardly a trace of
vegetation to be seen, all a naked, sun-burnt surface, desolation
could hardly be more desolate.
The gardens about Zebdane are almost universally inclosed with
well-made hedges. The thorn is much used for this purpose. They are
plaited together in such a way as to make a most ample defence. They
have gates, which have also a kind of fastening, and are thus made
very secure. They are the best hedges I have seen in the East. A
similar protection, I observed, was in some degree extended to the
fields of Indian corn, the castor oil plant, and other spots under
cultivation.
We had a fine sample of irrigation here. The corn fields are from
time to time covered with water. It is let in upon a field, and
runs until the ground is well saturated, then turned off to another
field, which, in its turn, gives place to another; and thus the
water is transferred from field to field, and garden to garden, to
the no small benefit of the trees, and vegetation of all kinds.
Nothing can thrive in these lands without being from time to time
thus watered. The righteous man is well compared to a "tree planted
by the rivers of waters." It is eastern imagery, to the life. About
4 P. M. we left the garden, and took leave of the good lady who had
received us with so much kindness. We made her a small present,
which she very thankfully received, and intimated that at our return
we might enjoy again the accommodation of her garden.
A little more than an hour brought us to the end of the plain, where
the Bareda turns short to the east, and passes by a narrow and deep
defile, through the mountain. The road follows the stream. The
whole mountain, as seen on both sides of the pass, is of a peculiar
character. The stratum of the rock is very irregular; at places it
has the dip, but with much irregularity. The rock is limestone,
of a very soft, yielding kind, and breaks to pieces readily from
the action of the atmosphere. Much of it is a very coarse kind of
breccia--appears to have been broken into small pieces, and again
combined with a soft cement. Some of the pieces seem to have been
subjected to the action of water, while in a separate state. But a
great deal of the mountain has all the appearance of an immense mass
of marl, and much of it is in a very soft state, so as to be easily
reduced to a fine white dust. In some places the road is worn or cut
ten, fifteen, or perhaps twenty feet, down through this marl-like
rock.
There are at some parts of the pass considerable precipices of rock
on one or both sides, and on the face of some of these rocks and at
a considerable height from the ground we saw the entrances of tombs.
It must have been difficult to cut such holes in the face of the
rock at such a height. Near the end of the pass we crossed a good
arched stone bridge, and soon found the valley beginning to open.
The character of the rock continued the same, and the whole face
of the country was peculiarly barren, except a narrow strip along
the river. The waters of the river, even in the mountains, were
taken out of its bed, wherever it could be done, and made to water
a little space on both sides, which space was more or less covered
with trees. We saw indeed in two places, channels cut across the
face of the rock above the road, which I am of opinion was for the
purpose of carrying the water thus high, that on clearing the pass,
it might be used for watering a wide space of country on the eastern
side. If this was the case, the neglect of modern times has let go
to ruin what may formerly have given fertility to a wide district
east of the mountain, now almost utterly barren. Many things have
fallen back greatly in this country. As the valley opened below the
pass, the water was taken out, and made to keep nearly a horizontal
course, along both sides of the channel, and used to water all the
district between it and the former bed, and on this district were
fields, corn, vines, fruit-trees, poplars, willows, and grass for
the flocks of sheep and goats, and other domestic animals.
We passed one or two small villages, and night began to set in.
After looking in vain for the cover of a good tree, in such a
situation as we wished, we spread our carpets on a little elevation
about fifty yards from a small village, and made our beds for the
night. A few of the villagers came to look at us; but they did not
seem to have as much curiosity or politeness as our good friends at
Zebdane. They were rather a shabby set.
About the time we had finished our supper and were going to bed,
some cause of dissatisfaction among the villagers, or a family
quarrel, took place; and for a short time there was a terrible
strife of tongues. It died away in part, and I hoped was about to
terminate; but was revived or continued mainly between one man and
woman, as the voices indicated; and such a scold I have seldom
heard. The woman appeared manifestly to have the advantage. Her
tongue was like a sharp sword. It must have been used before, or
it could not have been wielded with such terrible power on the
present occasion. I thought of the old saying, that "the tongue is
the only instrument that grows sharper and sharper by daily use."
The adversary, whether neighbour, or brother, or husband, I know
not, but suspect it was the latter, appeared to feel that he had a
losing case. He yielded, lowered his tone, let her do two-thirds,
three-fourths, and, towards the last, a still larger portion of the
talking. Such a storm could not last always, it gradually passed
away and the voices became silent. How many such storms daily take
place on earth! but not one in heaven, no, not one!
It was a Mohammedan village, and this probably a Mohammedan wife,
maintaining her rights against an unkind or petulant husband.
Verily, we of the western world are far from the truth in the
judgments we form about the domestic manners and intercourse of the
Mohammedans, and especially their mode of treating their wives. We
not only take it for granted that the Mohammedans believe their
women have no souls, (which is not true,) but we suppose they have
no rights, no privileges, and dare hardly look at their lords, much
less speak to them, under fear of losing their heads. Now, all this
is wide of the mark. The Mohammedan ladies have their rights, as
well as our own fair ones, and know how to stand up for them--and
the female tongue is fully as powerful an instrument in the East as
it is in the West. Judging from what I used to hear when a boy about
the Mohammedans, I should have expected to have seen this _fair
one_ put in a sack and thrown in the river, or, as water is rather
scarce here to be used for drowning _scolds_, I should at least have
expected to have seen her head cut off, and her tongue nailed up
in terror to others. But it was plain that the good lady was in no
fear of such treatment; and the good people of the village, instead
of coming to the relief of the man, were glad to keep out of harm's
way; and the ruler of the town, if it had any, knew better than
to intermeddle with other people's matters; and the man himself
received a lesson which I hope may do him more good than it did me.
"On that night could not the king sleep!" And so it was with me.
Whether it was owing to the train of thinking which the strife of
tongues occasioned; or whether that Angelo had made my tea too
strong, which he is almost sure to do, for I can't get the notion
out of his head that the stronger and the richer his dishes are,
so much the better; or whether other and unknown causes tended to
chase sleep from my eyes, I know not; but so it was, I could not
sleep. And really it was worth remaining awake to look on the face
of such a sky. We lay on the summit of a little hill; not a bush or
a green leaf near us. We had a fair horizon, and one of the clearest
skies that I ever saw. It seemed that I could see farther than usual
into the deep abyss, over which the stars are scattered in wild,
irregular, but beautiful confusion. I do not wonder that astronomy
began in the East, and, admitting the very strong and general
tendency of mankind to idolatry, I the less wonder that, in this
eastern world, with such heavens nightly spread over them, there
should have been so strong a tendency to the worship of the host of
heaven. It has much more show of reason than the worship of stocks
and stones, the work of men's hands.
When we arose in the morning, there was a scarcely perceivable
dampness on our bedding; but the dust in the road was not laid.
The case was, however, different on our return. We slept out near
Zebdane, and not far from a district irrigated by the waters of the
Bareda. Then our bedding was wet, and we all felt chilly. The dew
was most copious. This was no doubt owing to the low situation,
and its vicinity to a large district over which the water had been
thrown. It was also near the trees and gardens which for a mile or
two cover the plain.
We had about four hours' ride from our place of lodging to Damascus.
Our course was south-east, and, for the most part, we followed
the course of the Bareda. This stream runs in a channel depressed
below the general level of the country. The country indeed rises
into hills, and small mountains, all of which, without exception,
are wholly destitute of trees. Indeed, it is rare to see a bush on
them under which a lamb could be shaded. There are a few stunted
thistles, and furze, and an occasional tuft of grass. I have often
noticed the fact, that the thistles, a small stunted thorn, and the
furze, which has on it many prickles of a thorn-like character,
are more uniformly to be found than any other plants. "Thorns and
thistles shall it bring forth to thee." It is even so in these
eastern regions. They grow where nothing else will, but some places
are too bad for them.
The rock through this whole district is of a soft, friable nature.
Much of it has that puddingstone appearance, which I mentioned as
abounding in the mountain through which we had just passed. I was
inclined to think it that kind of limestone called aolite. Many
of the hills were so white, and washed so easily, that I doubted
whether they did not belong to the chalk formation. They reminded
me of the chalk cliffs of Dover, and the general appearance of the
chalk formation as seen near Dover.
When near the top of the last high range of hills, near Damascus, we
had, on looking back, the most striking view of a naked and barren
district that I ever saw. The whole range of country, up to the top
of the mountain through which we passed on leaving Zebdane, and
far to the north and south, was in full view; a range of fifteen
or twenty miles in diameter, perhaps much more; and, except the
little green strip that at some points could be seen along the river
Bareda, there appeared to be neither tree nor bush, nor any green
thing. I called Mr. B----'s attention to it, and asked him if he
could point out, with the exception just made, one green thing--tree
or bush. He could not. As the river runs in a deep channel, and the
trees along it are small, it was only at a few places that their
tops could be seen. A more dry, parched, desolate landscape I never
saw.
Our approach to Damascus was from the north-west. The general course
of the plain on which it stands is north-east and south-west. The
northern part, near Damascus, is bounded by a high, steep, and
precipitous mountain; the suburbs and gardens of the city extending
close to its foot. It was not until we had reached the top of this
range of mountains, from which the whole region we had passed over
for the last five or six hours rose to view, that we saw on the
other side, along the middle of a most noble plain, a wide district
covered with verdure, fields, gardens, and a forest of trees,
extending eastward towards the Bahr-el-Mrdj or Sea of Meadows, as
far as the eye could reach. In the midst of this, encircled with
gardens for miles around, rose the old, the famous city of Damascus,
with its many gilded domes glittering in the sun. The sight was
most delightful and refreshing; and the more so from the absolute
barrenness and desolation by which it was surrounded.
Damascus is a walled town; but on some sides the town has spread far
beyond the walls, and forms extensive suburbs. The north-west side,
through which we passed on entering the city, and in which most
of the Franks live, is thought to contain, if I recollect aright,
nearly twenty thousand people. This, however, is the most populous
part. The walls have once been of great strength, and were defended
on many parts, if not entirely around, by a deep foss and rows of
towers. They are now much out of repair. The gates are falling to
pieces, or approaching that state. The foss is much filled up at
many places, and the towers have lost their beauty and strength, and
possibly in great part their use--_sic transit gloria mundi_.
The streets are narrow, crooked, and miserably dirty. But little
effort is made to remove filth and produce cleanliness. In truth,
throughout this whole eastern world, the people appear to have very
low ideas of neatness and cleanliness. While the city abounds with
water, and a fountain of it is seen in most of the good houses, you
meet with filth everywhere, and are often most grievously annoyed
with the stench of dead animals in the roads and streets. Some of
the streets are paved, but in a very indifferent way, and from the
great accumulation of dust they are not in a comfortable condition
for passing over. Some allowances, however, must be made for this
abundance of dust in streets, roads, and open places, and even in
the houses. It is now nearly three months since I reached Beyroot,
and not one drop of rain has fallen--the sun has not, with the
exception of a few hours, been so covered with clouds as to be hid
from sight--most of the days it has, without ceasing, poured its
burning rays upon the earth. What marvel if the earth be _roasted_,
and except when water abounds, be converted into dust! The roads are
indeed dusty to a most uncomfortable degree. So are the streets--and
we need not be surprised if the dust should find its way into
courts, parlours, and even bed-rooms. One of the main streets,
called Straight, is shown as the one in which Paul was found by
Ananias. I did not find a full agreement about its name, some saying
it was so called, and others that this was its usual name. Different
names, it would seem, are given to different parts of it.
Most of the houses, when seen from the street, have an old and very
shabby appearance. Many of them are made up of patch-work--mud,
wood, and stone. The mud, however, as the cheapest article, is
most abundant. Occasionally, you may see the lower part of the
building of good hewn marble,--which soon gives place to a miserable
patch-work kind of half stucco and half mortar. The door-frames are
very often found of hewn stone, and sometimes arched, and this may
be the only stone that you see in the building.
The precise number of mosques in Damascus I did not, while with
those who could have informed me, think of asking. As I left the
city, however, and ascended the mountain, which gives such a fine
view of it, I made an attempt to count the minarets. I made about
thirty; and possibly this may be an approximation to the true number.
While under the guidance of the man who showed us the house of
Ananias, and the window through which Paul made his escape, we were
taken to see several other things, especially some graves, which
were not far from the gate. In one of the large vaults, which was
in part open, we could see the skeletons of various persons--their
winding-sheets in part rotted off--the flesh all gone, and the whole
exhibiting a spectacle most humbling to human nature. In health
man is the most beautiful of animals, and in corruption the most
loathsome. But death will lose its victory through Christ, to the
believer. We were also taken to the grave of the gate-keeper, who
ought to have known how Paul made his escape, but did not. While he
watched the gate, Paul, it would seem, by the help of some friends,
escaped by the window. The poor gate-keeper knew and of course could
tell nothing about the matter. But that very ignorance, as it was
with the soldiers who kept Peter, was brought in charge against him.
He ought to have known, and was put to death for not knowing. The
gate-keeper, however, has fared rather better than the soldiers.
Posterity has sainted him--has erected a neat tomb over him--put a
paling around, and a cover over it. It is considered as a sacred
place, and little offerings are deposited within the paling. I saw
some pieces of money that were placed on the tomb. I had often
heard, that with the papists, ignorance was the mother of devotion,
but here it was the cause of saintship. When will the measure of
folly, under the name of religion, have come to its full?
Bad as the falsely so-called Christian saints may be, they are not
so shameless as the living saints, which are at times seen--the
Mohammedan, men who have been to Mecca, and set themselves up to
be saints, are often seen here. I did not happen to see one at
Damascus, but saw one in Beyroot, who passed about the streets
and bazaars in a state of perfect nudity. With the most perfect
shamelessness, they will pass among females, and even enter the
houses and apartments of females, without so much as a fig leaf to
cover their nakedness. Their supposed holiness gives them great
consequence; and at times and places of peculiar sanctity, at
special processions and in the mosques, they put themselves forward
and take the most honoured place. Poor human nature! how low it can
and will come down, where grace does not prevent.
There are, just outside the walls of Damascus, some mills, that
looked better than any of the buildings of the sort I have seen in
the East. They stand on the main channel of the river, and avail
themselves of its waters to work their machinery. The bread of
Damascus is, for the East, good.
One of our longest walks was in the after part of the day, along the
river, and among the gardens and shady trees which line its borders:
I could not but notice how the people were walking, sitting, or
lying along the side of the stream, and how they appeared to enjoy
its refreshing coolness. They were "beside the still waters." Near
the eastern side of the city I was much interested in meeting with a
field of hemp. It was just beginning to blossom. It was the first,
and I may add, the only field of hemp I have seen in the East.
Most of the houses have balconies, or places projecting out on the
front, having windows at the three sides. They serve the double
purpose of giving access to the air, and enabling the people to
see what is going on in the streets. These are more or less common
as fixtures in houses, all through this eastern world. The greater
part of them have also courts that are open to the heavens; these
in several of the best houses that I have visited were paved with
marble, and had noble fountains of water in the centre. Some have
more than one fountain; and the house in which I lodged had one
perpetually flowing in the room in which I slept. There is water
enough to keep their houses and persons clean, would the people but
use it.
I was struck with the great contrast between the outside of the
houses and the appearance within. Without all looked old, rusty, and
ready to fall to pieces; but within there was often a richness and
beauty in the marble pavements, the gilded ceiling, and fanciful
carvings, that was striking. To what this may be owing I know not.
Possibly, in part to avoid the oppressive exactions which all
through these lands is apt to follow the track of wealth, or the
outward show of it.
Noticing that the roofs and upper parts of many houses were greatly
injured, and sadly in need of repairs, I inquired, and learned that
last winter was one of very great severity at Damascus,--that an
unusual quantity of snow fell, and by its weight did great injury to
the houses. Their mode of building is not adapted for durability.
Their mud walls do not well stand the rainy season, however they
may abide the dry. The wood they use for joists, and for supporting
their flat mud roofs, is in great part the Lombardy poplar and
willow, which is their most abundant growth, except perhaps the
mulberry. This wood they put in, full of sap, bark and all, and of
course in a few years it must rot, and fall out of its place. When
it is entirely defended from the air and moisture, it may last some
time, but when, as in most cases, it is almost entirely exposed to
both, no marvel if the house needs repairing nearly every year; and
this I am told is not uncommon.
The bazaars or streets, where the stores and shops are placed, are
generally covered over, so as to exclude the sun. The streets not
being more than ten or fifteen feet wide on an average, a roof is
thrown across, at ten, fifteen, or twenty feet above--not a very
close roof, but one that keeps out the sun, but lets the air have
more or less circulation. All through these countries there is a
great care to procure a shade from the scorching rays of the sun;
for this purpose the streets are made narrow, and in many places
are covered, so that those who pass may have shade. This narrowness
of the streets, and the covering of them, does, it is true, give a
closeness to them, and operates against a free circulation of the
air; but this is supposed to be compensated, in part at least, by
the protection they give from the direct action of the sun.
I was taken to the house, as was said, where Ananias dwelt. It is
a kind of cellar,--a poor, miserable place; and I am sure that so
good a man deserved a more comfortable residence. I doubt altogether
whether it was his house. But I did not judge it worth while
discussing the matter with the Catholic priests, who claim the
ownership of it, and show it. I also went to see the window through
which Paul is said to have been let down in a basket. It is over one
of the gates. I had as little faith in this as the other. There is
indeed, I think, strong evidence against it. I did not go out to the
spot at which Paul is said to have been converted. The day was hot,
the distance considerable, and nothing marked the place. There is a
thousand chances to one against it being the real place.
The population of Damascus is not certainly known. From all I
could learn from several resident Franks, it may be 125,000; and
in the one hundred and seventy-three villages which lie round
Damascus there may be an equal number. A gentleman who has paid
some attention to the matter, and has been some time a resident in
the country, supposes the population of all Syria to be about one
million and a half. The chief data used in forming the estimate is
the number of men, the heads of families, who pay the tax levied on
such. They are about 25,000 in Damascus, and may form one-fifth of
the population. This, at least, gives an approximation--the best
we have when no census is taken. The majority of the population
is Mohammedans, but the proportion I either did not get, or have
forgotten it. There are a few Jews, and some of all the various
sects of Christians found in these regions.
Damascus has long been considered by the Mohammedans as one of their
sacred cities; and it is not many years since when their bigotry
was so great that Christians had to use much caution to avoid its
outbreakings. There is a great change in this respect. Christians
may now go about with little danger. We rode repeatedly through the
crowded bazaars, and no one appeared to take the least offence; and
generally gave their salaam with indications of kindness. Still, it
will sometimes show itself. It is not long since that Mr. Calman, a
Jewish missionary, when engaged in selling the Scriptures, was taken
up by the bigoted Mohammedans, and for a time feared that he might
be put to trouble, but was released without much difficulty.
The main, if not the only river which waters the part of the plain
where Damascus stands, is the Bareda. It rises near Zebdane. We
followed its course, as I have before informed you, until it entered
the plain. There it is divided into three parts, which are led at
a distance from each other for the purpose of watering the plain.
From these channels a multitude of smaller ones are led in all
directions, so that every part of the plain within reach of the
water may, from time to time, receive its life-giving influence. The
main channel passes through or near the city, and its waters are
carried by pipes to every part of it.
To the south and south-east other streams are said to enter and flow
through the plain; but we did not visit those parts. They must be
small streams. Indeed the Bareda is a small stream. It would with us
be called a good mill stream. We would rather term it a creek than
a river. It is mostly confined in a channel of eight or ten yards
wide, and then may be waded without coming above the knee. Much of
the water of these rivers is exhausted in irrigation. They flow
east, and after rendering a noble plain very fertile and productive
for twenty or thirty miles, form a lake or marsh--they have no
outlet. I wished much to ride eastward through this plain and see
the country about the lake, but the time of the year and other
causes prevented.
It was the sickly season, and there was much sickness in Damascus.
Visiting the city at such a time was not classed with a high
degree of prudence and caution, while to have spent a week or so
in exploring the plain, and visiting the many villages along the
Bareda, would have been considered almost madness--a tempting
of Providence. I therefore spent but one night and two days in
Damascus, and then hurried back to the high ground on the great
mountain of Lebanon--not, however, without a lingering purpose that
when the heats of summer are passed, I may take Damascus in my route
again, and see more of its wide-spread plains, and thickly-planted
villages.
The whole country east of Damascus, on the Euphrates, is, I am
told, much like what I have seen in the part already passed over.
As a general thing, it is wholly destitute of trees and even
bushes--and during the summer there is but little verdure; much of
it is covered with sand. There are, however, spots where water is
found, and at all these vegetation is produced. Where these spots
are of any size there are villages, and man contrives to live. These
green spots are like small islands scattered over the face of the
ocean, and may be found all the way to the Euphrates, and down that
stream past Bagdad to the gulf.
The ruins of Palmyra lie two or three days' travel north-east of
Damascus. They have often been visited lately, and the danger is not
great. Still it is too great to be lightly hazarded. A party, of
whom a friend of mine was one, were robbed in an attempt to go there
about five months ago. A slight skirmish took place between them and
a large party of Arabs, in which they were overpowered and robbed;
some were wounded, but happily none killed. Indemnification has been
had from the tribe who robbed them.
An attempt is about being made to establish a regular communication
between Damascus and a point on the Euphrates, beyond Palmyra;
which, if successful, will throw much more light on the interior of
this region, and may make it an easy thing to visit that far-famed
river, and the many antiquities that abound on its banks.
Damascus is a famous rendezvous for caravans. The caravans for
Mecca, Bagdad, and various other places, either pass or start from
this place. Some had come in just before we were there, and others
were preparing for their departure. This gave some activity to the
business of the place. The shortness of my stay, for the reasons
above assigned, did not allow me to see much of them. I had not time
to go out to the edge of the desert, where they usually encamp,
and there to see the grotesque appearance, the odd mixture, and
pell-mell state of things produced by such assemblages of men of all
nations, and such herding together of man and beast.
Damascus, and the region about it, is somewhat celebrated for its
fruit of various kinds. The grapes were fine--the apricots good,
and abundant--the plums the largest and finest I ever saw, being
nearly as large as a hen's egg. I saw but few peaches, they are said
to be good--the figs were fine of course--the apples indifferent.
The white mulberry-tree is much cultivated in this section of the
country, not for its fruit, which is but little esteemed, but for
feeding the silk-worm. The silk forms a considerable branch of
the Damascus trade, and the manufacture of it carried on to some
extent. The black mulberry is found in considerable quantities, and
is cultivated for its delicious fruit. The white walnut is with
the natives a favourite tree. The nut is rich and of a pleasant
taste. The tree gives a fine shade, grows well near the water, and
is larger than most of the other trees. The sycamore is found here.
The plane-tree is also found, but not very common--this is often
called the sycamore with us. There is a very large one in Damascus
near one of the gates. We measured it--thirty-six feet around. The
karoob-tree is a variety of the locust. The fruit is the husks which
the Prodigal Son would have eaten--a bean-like pod with a sweetish
meat in it.