"The shades of evening," continues this accomplished traveller, "which slowly descended the mountains of Balbec, and obscured, one by one, the columns and the ruins, imparted an additional air of mystery to the picturesque and magical effect of these wonderful works of man and time. We felt the full insignificance of human nature; and while contemplating the mass and eternity of these monuments, we compared man to the swallows, which build their nests for a season in the interstices of these stones, without knowing for whom, or by whom, or for what purpose, they were collected together. The power which moved these masses, and accumulated these blocks, is unknown to us. The dust of the marble, which we trod under our feet, knows more than we do, but can tell us nothing; and in a few centuries to come, the generations who may, in their turn, visit the wrecks of our monuments now existing, will ask, without being able to answer, why we laboured without being able to build and carve. The works of man are more durable than his thoughts; movement is the law of the human mind; the definite is the dream of man's vanity and ignorance; God is an object which incessantly recedes from us, as we endeavour to approach him. We are continually advancing, but we never arrive. The Deity, whose divine figure man seems to embody in his imagination, and to enshrine in his temples, continually enlarges, and exceeds the narrow boundaries of our minds, and our edifices; leaves the temples and the altars to crumble into dust; and summons man to seek him where he is most plainly manifested, viz., in intelligence, in virtue, in nature, and in eternity."
We now give place to observations, made by travellers on the relative merits of the architecture, employed in these magnificent edifices. "When we compare the ruins of Balbec," says Mr. Wood, "with those of many ancient cities, which we visited in Italy, Greece, and Egypt, and in other parts of Asia, we cannot help thinking them the remains of the boldest plan we ever saw attempted in architecture."
"The enormity of the scale," says Mr. Buckingham, "and the magnificence of design, seen throughout the whole of the architecture, with the boldness of the drawing, and the exquisite finish of the sculpture, impressed me with an idea of a labour more than human. I should conceive that in no country was to be found so superb a monument of the inimitable perfection of ancient architecture. The temples and the tombs of Egypt were here equalled in the enormity of the masses, that composed them; and the chamber of the Pyramids rivalled in the closeness of the masonry; while the monuments of Athens itself, in the age of Pericles and Praxiteles, were at least equalled in the richness and beauty of the sculptured ornaments, that adorned them. It appeared to me, that the temples of Edfou, Tentyris, and Thebes, fell far short of this, as a whole; for here the ponderous strength of the Egyptian, and the chastened elegance of the Grecian school, are both most happily combined."
Mr. Addison appears to have entertained a different opinion:—"Those ruins," says he, "though so striking and magnificent, are yet, however, quite second rate, when compared with the Athenian ruins; and display, in their decorations, none of the bold conceptions and the genius which characterise the Athenian architecture. There is a peculiar sameness in the decorations of the figures, entablatures, and cornices. The ornaments are all alike, and the festoons of grapes, and vine-leaves hung on goats' and horses' heads, the pendent bunches of grapes and Cupids, however rich in appearance, and beautifully chiselled, can never excite such feelings, as one small portion of the Panathenian frieze of the Parthenon, or one of the Metopes, representing a battle between a Centaur and a Lapithæ. There is a genius in these latter, a combination of talent, a soul, fire, and spirit, which are looked for in vain in the Balbec remains. The great Panathenian frieze of the Parthenon, which extended all around that temple, with its hundreds of horses and warriors, its spirited grouping, and faithful delineation of forms and attitudes; and above it the wars of the Centaurs and Lapithæ, possessed a most exciting interest. The vine-branches and wheat ears of the temple of Balbec, although unquestionably very beautiful, yet appear tame in comparison; and cannot certainly be put in competition with these master-pieces of architectural decoration."
"Several artists have observed," says Mr. Wood, "a similitude between some European buildings, and some parts of the ruins of Palmyra and Balbec; from which they have, perhaps, too hastily concluded, that the former were copied from the latter. The portico of the Louvre at Paris has been compared in this light to the ruins of Palmyra; as also with the portico at Balbec; but we cannot discover any foundation for inferences so injurious to the memory of the architect, who built that noble structure, which is as justly admired as it is unaccountably neglected."
We now return to the page of M. de La Martine:—"Round this platform is ranged a series of chapels, decorated with niches, admirably sculptured, friezes, cornices, and vaulted arches; all displaying the most finished workmanship, but evidently belonging to a degenerate period of art. But this impression can only be felt by those whose eyes have been previously exercised by the contemplation of the pure monuments of Athens and Rome. Every other eye would be fascinated by the splendour of the forms and the finish of the ornaments. The only fault is too much richness; the stone groans beneath the weight of its own luxuriance, and the walls are overspread with a lace-work of marble."
The town is, at present, so ruined, that there are not counted more than fifty habitable dwellings in it; though the whole number within the walls may be estimated at five hundred.
The state of the city is deplorable. The emirs of the house of Harfoushe had already greatly impaired it, when an earthquake, in 1759, completed its destruction; insomuch, that though in 1751 there were five thousand inhabitants, not twelve hundred are remaining; and all these poor, without industry or commerce, we are told, and cultivating nothing but a little cotton, some maize, and a few watermelons.
Even the ruins are altering every day. Dawkins and Wood found nine large columns standing; but Volney, in 1784, found only six. They reckoned twenty-nine at the lesser temple; but now there are only twenty. There were, originally, thirty-four,—eight in front, and thirteen along each of the sides. The others were overthrown by an earthquake. Nature alone, however, has not effected this devastation. The Turks have had their share in the destruction of the columns; the motive for which was merely that of procuring the iron cramps, which served to join the several blocks of which each column is composed. Famine, the pestilence, and the sword, gradually thinned the inhabitants. The population of five thousand, which the town contained in 1751, has now dwindled down to barely two hundred persons: nor does each house continue to possess, as it did in the time of Maundrell, "ten or fifteen cows, besides goats and sheep, the goats being of an uncommon species, worth from 30l. to 35l. a piece!" The description left by Maundrell was faithful at the time he visited those ruins; but since that period several important parts have been destroyed, and even the place of the temple at the end of the great court, which was probably the principal edifice of the whole, cannot at this day be made out[146].
The hands of the natives have, no doubt, committed many ravages. Faccardine, prince of the Druses, destroyed or injured several parts of these ruins; but when he afterwards visited Italy, and contracted a taste for its architecture, he is said to have bitterly lamented the sacrilege he had committed at Balbec[147]. "It is in fact man, not nature," says an elegant writer, "that has wrought this change. No blight has seared the soil, or poisoned the air, but a degrading despotism has as effectually dried up the sources of social prosperity, as if some elementary convulsion had suddenly turned the clime of beauty cold and dark, and struck the teeming earth with hopeless barrenness. Indeed, Turkish oppression has done what no unkindness of nature could have effected. The splendours of Palmyra rose, under the breath of a free commerce, in the midst of a sandy desert; but nothing has been able to preserve that and many other great cities from crumbling into heaps of ruins, at the death-touch of the gloomy tyranny, that now hangs like a pall over the land."