Letters from Palestine / Written during a residence there in the years 1836, 7 and 8

by J. D. Paxton

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.