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

by J. D. Paxton

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.