Lucian, who was a native of Syria, speaks of a great and ancient temple in Phœnicia, the rites of whose worship were brought from Heliopolis in Egypt; and adds, that “many persons assert that this temple was erected by Deucalion, the Scythian; that Deucalion, in whose days the grand inundation of waters took place.”
All this refers to this spot and to the origin of these temples, but not to these temples themselves: the structure to which Lucian refers being evidently of more ancient date. The first clear and authentic information which we have of the edifices now standing, are in John of Antioch, surnamed Malala; who says, that Aurelius Antoninus Pius erected a great temple to Jupiter at Heliopolis, near Libanus in Phœnicia, which was one of the wonders of the world.
The Chronicon Paschale informs us, that Theodosius converted the great and famous temple of Heliopolis into a Christian church.[79]
The florid architecture of these edifices corresponds exactly to the times of the Antonines; and I think we are at liberty to infer, from what we can gather on this subject, that there was here, in very ancient times, a famous temple, containing the statue of Jupiter Igneous, if I may use the term; and that its celebrity led the first of the Antonines, who distinguished himself by building up decaying cities, to erect these vast and beautiful structures. Close adjoining them on the south, is a dark, heavy, and ancient looking building, without windows, and composed of stones, pannelled like those which I saw at the foot of Mount Moriah; and this may, perhaps, be the original temple noticed by Lucian.
The modern Balbec contains about 200 houses. It is protected by a low wall, but not more than half the enclosure is occupied by the dwellings, which are small and miserable looking hovels. As we were leaving the ruins in the evening, we received an invitation from the Pasha to make him a visit, which the lateness of the hour led us to decline. But his house was adjoining our road back to the fountain; and on approaching it, we found the gates wide open, and a train of attendants marshalled for our reception; so there was no help for us, and our party entering, filled his little hall of audience. He seemed disposed to be sociable, and regaled us with pipes, coffee, and apples; and we regretted that our time would not permit a longer visit.
It was now dark, and on leaving his house we found that he had had the politeness to have torches provided for us. They consisted of bits of pine, piled up in small baskets made of iron hoops, and elevated at the end of a long pole. As we wound around or over the undulations of the valley, the effect of the broad lights and shadows, the dancing waters in the pebbly brook by our side, and the oriental costume of the natives, numbers of whom were accompanying us, was very fine.
During the day some other travellers, in the native costume, stopped for an hour or two by our fountain. We had no conversation with them, but were afterwards informed that they were probably the French Marshal Bourmont and some friends, travelling in disguise.
September 6. We stopped again, an hour or two, at the ruins, and then commenced re-crossing the plain of Coelo-Syria, directing our course transversely so as to strike our former route over Mount Lebanon. Had our time permitted, we should have visited the cedars of Lebanon, which are about half way between Balbec and Tripoli; but as the autumn was advancing, and the Commodore was anxious to get away from this unknown coast, the project was relinquished. Mr. Chassaud was good enough, however, afterwards to procure some of the wood for us, and to forward it by way of Marseilles to our wintering station at Mahon. I have had my portion of it cut into veneers, which are greatly admired by cabinet makers, both for the color and odour of the wood; the interior of the block is of a golden yellow color, and some portions, which are sprinkled over with small black specks or knots, are very beautiful. The number of the old trees has been gradually diminishing since the mountain first began to be visited by travellers, and but seven or eight are now remaining. The largest of these are ninety feet in height, and they have in one or two cases a circumference of forty feet; which, however, like that of the great chestnut on Mount Etna, is not the circuit of a single tree, but of the generation that has grown around the original trunk. The natives have an annual religious festival beneath these venerable fathers of the forest. There are groves of a younger growth around these, containing altogether about 400 trees. A fine large tree of this species may be seen in the garden of plants at Paris; and in Mr. Prince’s garden at Flushing is a young one also, in a flourishing condition.
About half way across the plain, we came to another large fountain, and smaller ones occurred at intervals; but the ride was wearisome enough: in the whole distance we passed not a house, nor a tree, nor a speck of cultivation; a withering and blighting influence has been for ages upon all this region. About three o’clock, we reached the village of Zahle, at the foot of Lebanon. It has rather a modern appearance, having grown up lately in consequence of some violence and exactions on the other side of the plain, from which the inhabitants have taken refuge under the wing of the princes of Lebanon. It is quite refreshing to an American traveller to see a modern town, and this of Zahle is also particularly pleasing from its situation. It is built on unequal, broken ground, and is bordered on one side by a deep, shaded ravine, along the bottom of which dashes a torrent, singing and making melody in its joyful course. We found near its banks a convenient spot for satisfying our now ravenous appetites, and then, although we had no ruins to inspect afterwards, we again sought the reviving effects of a nap.
And well it was for us that we did so, for we were destined on the following night to have no repose. Having travelled on from Zahle in the coolness of the evening, we came at dusk to our breakfasting place of the 2d., and here determined to pitch our tents. But that was to be a night of fighting and not of sleep.