Party to Damascus. Ascent of Mount Lebanon. The roads. English carriage. Scenery of the mountain. Its inhabitants. Maronites. The Druses. Aaleih. Horns worn by the women. Princesses of the mountain. Beautiful night scene. Bhamdoon. Plain of Coelo-Syria. Anti-Lebanon. Characteristic of Americans. A dilemma. First view of Damascus. The great plain. Gardens. The city. “Street that is called Straight.” St. Paul.

About noon on the first of September, a party of us might have been seen winding along the streets of Beirout, and then starting off in high spirits for Damascus. That city is the present capital, and residence of the Governor of Syria, and the Commodore had determined, while the ship was taking in water, to make it a visit.

Our company consisted of Commodore Patterson and two daughters, nine officers, and about twelve attendants and muleteers, and was headed by an Armenian gentleman, Mr. Farrah, whom Mr. Chassaud had just appointed American agent for Damascus. Mr. Farrah was accompanied also by a relative of his, so that we numbered altogether twenty-six persons; a large cavalcade for visiting a city where, only a year previously, it was extremely hazardous for any one to be seen in the Frank dress, so savage and bitter was the hatred of the inhabitants towards all the Gaiours, or Christians. Mr. Smith and his lady were also with us, intending to accompany us as far as his house on the mountain, where we were to stop for the night.

Our road, on leaving the city, laid across a small plot of open ground bordered with trees, and immediately after this entered a region of gardens and vineyards, which appeared to be very productive. Among them, on the right, is a substantial stone house, recently erected by the missionaries for their press and books. It had, in some respects, an American look, and was an unexpected and welcome sight. We kept ascending gently for about two miles, when we came, at the summit of the eminence, to a fine grove of large venerable looking pines. The Pasha of Egypt is disposed to cultivate this tree for the use of his navy, and not far off has planted a little forest, which seems to be in a thriving condition.

This spot commands a fine view of the mountain, and plain, and sea, and is the one to which De La Martine has given a pathetic interest. About three miles beyond it we commenced the ascent of Mount Lebanon, at first by a gently inclined plane, which, however, did not continue long; soon we came to steeper ascents, and then to yet steeper; and then commenced a series of experiments in vaulting, flying, and tumbling, which lasted quite across the mountain, and were sometimes near costing us life or limb. I believe there was but one person in the party who had not at least one fall, many of us could count three or four; and one of the ladies was saved from sliding down a precipice only by our springing to her help, and holding rider and donkey against the side of the bank till they had recovered foot-hold. I had thought that in Indiana, a few years previously, I had seen the very worst roads in the world; but they are equalled by those over Mount Lebanon, that is, if the reader can be made to understand clearly a comparison between mud-holes and rocks, which I confess I cannot exactly do myself. There is no mistake, however, about this road, which is certainly the most toilsome and dangerous one that I have ever met with. And yet it is the great thoroughfare between Damascus and its seaport, Beirout, and is every day traversed by camels with heavy loads of merchandise. The British Consul General for Syria, residing at Damascus, a few years ago had a carriage transported across this mountain from Beirout. He first had it taken to pieces, and then had the body slung between two camels; but the swinging motion, in consequence of the roughness of the roads, soon put the poor animals on beam ends; and they said, as plainly as camels could say, that they had no inclination for such work. He then put the vehicle together again, and employed sixty men to pull it up and lower it down the precipices, and at last got it safe home at Damascus, where now he may go an airing over a plain 500 miles in length. He offered the ladies of our party to carry them in it to Palmyra. A ride in an English coach to Palmyra! it would have been something new under the sun, and we should all have made that interesting journey, if our time would have permitted. But back again—we have not arrived at Damascus yet, nor even at the summit of Lebanon, and many a weary mile is before us. Up, up we went, sometimes almost perpendicularly, wondering, when we could catch a breathing spell, at the power and wonderful surefootedness of our animals. After a while the scenery around us became truly grand. It is a mountain with more poetry than any other that I have ever seen. Grander I have met with, and richer, and more beautiful; but I have seen none that contains so much of all of these combined. The reader is perhaps aware that it is inhabited by a race of people that from time immemorial have kept themselves free and unsubdued; they form an enigma and a wonder in this land of sloth and imbecility. Hardy, industrious, and healthful, they have spread over the mountain till it is teeming with inhabitants, and have been compelled, wherever, by terrace or otherwise, it can be cultivated, to erect their dwellings, and break up or make a soil. They retain also their peculiar institutions; and this is the only place in all Turkey where Christians are allowed for their churches the use of bells.

The inhabitants of Mount Lebanon branch off into three religions: Mahomedans, Druses, and Maronite Christians. The last of these had their origin in the seventh century, and take their name from Maro, their first bishop, who, at this time, came from the banks of the Orontes and taught here the heretical doctrines of the Monothelites, which he had adopted. In the year 1182 they gave up these doctrines, and were united to the Romish church; at least they have ever since acknowledged the supremacy of the Pope, but as they never allow him to interfere with their doctrines or forms of worship, and have their own distinct class of ecclesiastical rulers, their subjection to the Roman Catholic jurisdiction is little better than nominal. They have a patriarch whom they elect themselves, and who takes uniformly the name of Peter; but his appointment, to be valid, must be confirmed by the Pope. Their number at present is about 120,000.

The Druses, who amount to about 70,000, are a strange and mysterious people. Their religion seems to be a compound of Paganism, Mahomedanism, and Christianity; but it is kept a profound secret, and we have few means of forming a judgment respecting it. They are divided into two classes, the Djakils, or ignorant, about 60,000 in number, and the Aakils, or intelligent, who amount to about 10,000; the latter alone are acquainted with the mysteries of their religion; but from the vague answers that are given to all queries by strangers respecting it, I am inclined to think that it is itself vague and undefined, and that except a few leading principles, they themselves scarcely know what they believe.

The Mahomedan population, in some parts of Lebanon, is very numerous.

On our right, as we ascended the mountain, was a large valley, commencing in the elevated parts of the range, and spreading, as it descended, till it formed a theatre among the hills of gigantic proportions. From the highest part to the lowest, it was all under cultivation, and dotted with cottages; while in various parts cascades were seen streaming from the rocks, and contrasting finely with the rich verdure with which the whole seemed to be carpeted, and over which the declining sun was now pouring a flood of mellowed light.

We turned, by and by, around the head of this valley, and delighted with the views, but exhausted by the constant muscular effort to keep in our saddles, we were glad to find ourselves at the door of Mr. Bird’s house in the village of Aaleih. In approaching the village, the young beaux of our party had straightened themselves in their saddles, and made their donkeys hold up the head and look smart, in hopes perhaps of making a conquest among the princesses of the mountain, some of whom were residing in Aaleih; but as we passed the houses, nothing but old looking heads, and these with great horns stuck on them, were thrust out towards us, presenting some of the least attractive, and most singular specimens of woman-kind that we had met with. This is no joke of mine; for it is actually the fashion in this region for the ladies to stick to their heads a horn very much in size and shape like a speaking-trumpet, if deprived of its mouth-piece. They are generally of embossed silver, and are handed down from mother to child through many generations; some are of paste-board covered with gold or silver paper, and some of the more costly ones which we saw, in addition to being of pure silver, were set with precious stones. They are worn generally on the top of the head, projecting a little in front; but are sometimes attached to the side directly over the temple, according as the fancy may take the belle or her ladyship; they are worn not only by day, but also during the night. A white muslin shawl is usually cast over the horn, and tied with a string at its lower part, and is thus made to shade the face; their dress in other respects has nothing peculiar. We priced some of these singular ornaments, and found them valued at about fifteen dollars.

The Druse men have squat figures and countenances, though not very intelligent, yet of rather pleasing expression. They wear a dress considerably like that of the Turks, and in addition, a loose coat, marked with broad white and black stripes running vertically; this coat, I believe, is universal among them, and is one of the characteristics of a Druse. We met them in great numbers along the road, and took pleasure in marking their habits, so different from the lazy, sluggish movements of the Turks.

Mrs. Bird had been good enough to prepare an excellent meal for us, to which we sat down with keen appetites; after which some of us went, in company with Mrs. B. and Mrs. Whiting, to call upon the princesses, the daughters of the late Emir of this district, over which, since his decease, one of them had been exercising the authority of chief.

There was a house full of females and children, and we could not help admiring the sprightly, intelligent faces, and the graceful carriage of all, both old and young. Their costume was also very becoming. One of the lads, about eleven years of age, with a keen resolute eye, wore a handjar[75] of beautiful workmanship in his belt, and had the bearing of a little king. The young folks came afterwards to visit the ship, with a letter from Mr. Bird; but unfortunately did not reach her till she was under way, and they could not be admitted on board.

Again came our ponies, (alias donkeys, at least most of them,) and again came the tug of this mountain travelling, which soon was rendered doubly unpleasant by a moonless night. We could see nothing of the way, and had no resource except quietly to follow Mr. Smith, our guide, and resign ourselves to the sure-footed habits of our animals. We travelled on in this way for about an hour after dark, when suddenly, and as if by a kind of magic, a scene opened upon us that produced a general exclamation of delight. Mr. Smith had selected a safe spot for the exhibition, and without giving us warning, had led us to the edge of an immense valley, which spread around in the form of a great amphitheatre, and was covered with villages and farmhouses from top to bottom. The houses had lights in them, and all at once, from utter darkness, the whole region, a space of some miles in diameter, appeared as if sprinkled over with stars; it seemed as if we had been suddenly carried upward, and had been placed in mid-heaven, amid the constellations and the bright effulgence of the Milky Way.

But we were yet upon our earth, and in a very rough portion of it; and as we went on, climbing up and slipping down, we began to long for our own beacon light. It appeared at length on the opposite side of a deep valley, around which we had to wind; but at length, about ten o’clock, we were safely deposited in Mr. Smith’s hospitable dwelling at Bhamdoon. His house accommodated the Commodore and family, while the rest of us were distributed among his neighbors, where we found pretty comfortable beds.

The rising sun, next morning, found us on our way, and in addition to our baggage mules, another in our company, with a couple of tents provided by Mr. Smith, an accommodation which we found of the most essential service during the journey. Mount Lebanon, at the highest peak, which was not far north of our road, attains an elevation of 10,000 feet; but at our place of crossing was not quite so high. Opposite to Balbec its summit retains the snow, even in exposed situations, all the year.

We reached the highest point of our road at a place about five miles east of Bhamdoon; and after descending into some deep glens, and encountering again a frightful rocky ascent, we stopped for breakfast at 10 o’clock, on the eastern slope of the range. The plain of Coelo-Syria, apparently about eight miles across, but in reality of nearly twice that width, was spread out below us; and on the opposite side of it ascended the more gentle and less formidable looking mountain of Anti-Lebanon. At a peak to the southward of us this latter range was, however, also covered with snow. Numerous streams dash down the sides of both mountains, clothing them with perpetual green, and then discharge their waters into the river Litane, the ancient Leontes, which, after winding through the whole length of this plain, is finally lost in the sea not far from Sidon.

The plain of Coelo-Syria is generally of the breadth that I have mentioned, and is about 100 miles in length, being bounded in the whole extent by the parallel ranges of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon. It has a rich soil, and might be made extremely productive; but only a small portion of it is at present under cultivation. Our meal was eaten by the side of a brook, beneath some fig trees; and when it had been succeeded by a short season of repose, we finished our descent, and entered on the monotonous and fiery plain. All day we dragged ourselves across, scorched by a fierce sun, and parched with thirst, and finding little relief in the sight of the snowy peaks on either side. We came about two o’clock to a khan, and soon after to the river, which we crossed on a bridge, though at this season it can be forded. Here we met a long string of camels from Damascus, and soon after we witnessed a natural phenomenon, of which we afterwards saw several instances on the great Assyrian plain,—columns of sand raised high in the air, and passing along the ground, in their shape bearing a great resemblance to that of a water-spout, and doubtless produced by a similar cause.

Our course was not straight across the plain, but inclining to the southward. About five o’clock we reached a village near the foot of Anti-Lebanon, and while we stopped for water, our muleteers began very deliberately to unload the animals, concluding to stop there for the night. They were astonished when told that the day’s journey was not yet finished, and then remonstrated, and then got angry, but to no purpose; and I believe they thought us a very singular and uncivilized set of beings. I do not know that any traveller has ever yet spoken of the difference between foreign countries and our own with respect to energy and rapidity of movement. With us, “time” literally “is money;” and as we have abundant opportunities of making the most of it, we get a sharpness of look, and a quickness of motion, which is seen no where else, and has at length become a characteristic of the nation.

The contrast is striking every where, but most of all along the Mediterranean. A Spanish lad for whom I lately got an excellent situation with a mechanic in one of our cities, was near losing it because “he did not move fast;” although in his own country he would have been considered smart enough. I pointed out to him the difference, and mentioned the objection, and he immediately improved. There is, in most of these countries, a heaviness of look, and slowness of motion, in strong contrast with the bustling, driving character of people in our cities; but which is easily accounted for by the fact, that there are fewer stimulants to enterprise and activity. The journey from Beirout to Damascus, I believe, usually occupies between three and four days; although there were ladies in our company, we made it in two; and let me here also remark, en passant, that as far as endurance of hardships and of fatigue is concerned, I believe ladies are quite as good travellers as men; and as far as my own observation has gone, they are better.

Our determination this evening to proceed, however, soon brought us into an embarrassment. We entered the defiles of Anti-Lebanon, and in the course of a few hours found ourselves shut up in them, and night settling around us, without knowing where to stop; and our Armenian friend, driven beyond his usual land-marks, could now give us no assistance. Tents we had, thanks to the kindness of Mr. Smith, and also provisions; but we had to find a stopping-place where our beasts could get water; and we passed on, mile after mile, without any indications of stream or fountain. This mountain is very different from Lebanon. Though in some places very high, it is generally much lower, and consists of rounded eminences, with here and there deep ravines or glens between. It is also in most places quite deserted. Along this route we passed but one village in the whole way across the mountain, and this was a miserable looking one; nor was there a single house in the whole intermediate country.

We reached a spot at length where the defile was succeeded by a narrow plain, and our company, scattering themselves over the ground in search of water, a glad shout, at length, from some of the party, informed us that they had found a spring. The water came gushing out from the foot of a bluff of rocks, and beneath them we pitched our tents and lighted our fires. Some of us then went to filling the pots for cooking, and some were sent to grope in the dark after dry thistles for fuel; while others seated themselves on the rocks and looked up at the stars, and talked sentiment.

It was a raw cold night; and we were off long before day, traversing a region as dreary and desolate as can be imagined. About ten o’clock we came to the village just noticed; and then again pursued our course over hill and along dale, with not even a butterfly or grasshopper to cheer our course. A large fountain by and by, and a little herbage near it, offered some variety; and not long after this we caught sight of an oasis some miles on our left—a little valley of the most intense green, with trees of majestic form, mingled with the tapering poplar and cypress, all imbedded among hills of a red and yellow color, and of unbroken sterility.

The ground before us now began to ascend, stretching off into elevated plains; and as we advanced, a traveller was now and then met, or seen at a distance crossing the country. These signs multiplying, it was evident that we were approaching Damascus. We gained, at length, the summit of a long sloping plain terminated by a bluff;—and there—there was the city.

And it was a scene strikingly oriental and truly magnificent. We had hit upon the very best way by which Damascus can be approached, for its gardens, though far down, were right under our feet. A sea of intense verdure breaking all at once upon the arid desert; a great city bursting suddenly from amid the completest solitude; and beyond it a plain stretching off—far off—till the eye could follow it no longer;—this was what we saw as we stood upon those heights. I believe the plain of Damascus reaches to the Euphrates, and proceeds on with that river; and if so, it must be 500 miles or more in length, and as far as we could see, it is a smooth level, without hillock or break of any kind. On the eastward, at a great distance, and forming a dim speck on the horizon, were some inequalities like mountains; but to the southward the plain was as smooth as the ocean in a calm, and apparently as boundless.

The peculiar excellence of the spot where Damascus is situated is owing to the Barraday, a rapid stream, which here breaks out from the mountain ravines; and by numerous artificial as well as natural channels, is made to spread over the plain; it waters the whole extent of the gardens, and when this is done, the little of it that is left proceeds on southwardly through the plain, but amid the arid sands it soon dwindles away and disappears. The stretch of gardens is about nine miles in diameter, and, except the space occupied by the city, is one unbroken extent of the deepest verdure. It is planted with all kinds of trees; mostly, however, such as produce fruit, among which the apricot still holds the ascendency; pomegranate, orange, lemon, and fig trees also abound, and rising over these are other trees of huge proportions, intermingled with the poplar and sometimes the willow. Water is carried into every garden; and as we rode on towards the city, it was our almost constant companion, dashing along by our side or through arched ways under the road, and sending off branches in every direction. It is here quite a rapid stream. The gardens are enclosed by brick or earthen walls; and beside the fruit trees are planted thickly with vegetables and with flowering shrubs. In the centre of this wide stretch of verdure, which, as we gazed upon it from the hills, seemed like an earthly paradise, is the city itself. Its population is estimated at 100,000; but I should judge it to be greater than this.

It presents a great mass of houses, but being situated on the level plain, and having no points of elevation and but few prominent edifices, it would not strike us greatly, if it were not mixed up with so much natural beauty. The great mosque, formerly the church of St. John, towers considerably above the rest of the edifices; and so does the dark massive castle, or citadel, and so also do a few domes and several minarets; but they are not sufficient to give it character. But with the scenery around, the gardens, the adjoining range of Anti-Lebanon, rising in many a peak and presenting bold precipices, and with the great plain, so vast that the imagination is lost in attempting to follow it, El Sham, as by this time we had learned from the Arabs to call Damascus, is a place of exquisite beauty. One part of it, which struck us as we viewed it from our elevated position, will interest the Christian. It is a narrow prolongation of the city at the southern end, about three quarters of a mile in length. Commencing in the body of the city and extending along through the whole length of this portion, is “the street which is called Straight,” still remarkable for its length and direct course, and still, I was informed, going by its ancient name. It added greatly to the interest with which we contemplated these remarkable and beautiful scenes, to think that here Paul first looked on nature with the eyes of a Christian, and amid this scenery found subjects to animate him in his new and joyful aspirations, and to strengthen him in his high resolves. Here, in Damascus, “he first preached Christ, that he is the Son of God.”