Of alienated Judah.
The night was rainy and tempestuous, and when they looked out in the morning the Nahr Ibrahim had assumed that sanguine hue, which, according to Lucian, always distinguishes it at that season of the year in which the festival of Adonis was celebrated. Nay, the stream not only “ran purple to the sea,” but had actually, as they observed in travelling along, communicated its bloody colour to the waves of the Mediterranean to a considerable distance from the land, just as the Nile discolours them at the time of the inundation along the whole coast of the Delta.
Their road now lay nearly at the foot of those steep and rugged mountains which have for many ages been inhabited by the Maronites, several of whose convents they discerned perched like eagles’ nests on the bare summit of the crags. A road cut for a considerable distance through the solid rock, and a track still more rude and wild, worn by the footsteps of travellers in the side of the mountain, at length brought them to the river Lycus, or Canis, the Nahr-el-Kelb, or “Dog’s River,” of the Turks and Arabs. Proceeding along a low sandy shore, and crossing the Nahr-el-Salib, they arrived at a small field near the sea, where St. George, the patron of England, acting over again the fable of Apollo and Python, fought with and killed that mighty dragon which still shows its shining scales on the golden coin of Great Britain. A small chapel, now converted into a mosque, was anciently erected on the spot in commemoration of the exploit. In the evening they arrived at Beiroot, where they remained the following day, examining the ruins and present aspect of the city.
The principal curiosities of Beiroot were the palace and gardens of Fakreddin, fourth prince of the Druzes, a people of Mount Lebanon, said to be descended from the fragments of those Christian armies which, after the final failure of the Crusades, were unable or unwilling to return to their own countries, and took up their residence in the mountain fastnesses of the Holy Land. Originally the gardens of Fakreddin must have been a little paradise. Even when Maundrell was there, after time and neglect had considerably impaired their beauty, they were still worthy of admiration. Large and lofty orange-trees of the deepest verdure, among which the ripe yellow fruit hung thickly suspended like oblong spheres of gold, shaded the walks; while below small shining rivulets of the purest water ran rippling along, through channels of hewn stone, spreading coolness through the air, and distributing themselves over the gardens by many imperceptible outlets.
On leaving Beiroot they proceeded through a spacious plain, and traversing a large grove of pine-trees, planted by the Emīr Fakreddin, arrived in two hours on the banks of the river Dammar, anciently Tamyras, in which, about four years before, the younger Spon had been drowned in proceeding northward from Jerusalem. Coming up to the edge of the stream, they found a number of men, who, observing their approach, had stripped themselves naked, in order to aid them in passing the stream; but having previously learned that a bridge which once spanned this river had been purposely broken down by these officious guides, in order to render their services necessary, and that, moreover, they sometimes drowned travellers to obtain their property, they disappointed the ruffians, and ascending along the stream for some time, at length discovered a ford, and crossed without their aid.
At the Awle, a small river about three miles north of Sidon, our travellers were met by several French merchants from this city, who, having been informed of their drawing near, had come out to welcome them. From these friends they learned, however, that the French consul, who, being also consul of Jerusalem, was compelled by the duties of his office to visit the Holy City every Easter, had departed from Sidon the day before; but that as he meant to make some stay at Acra, they might hope to overtake him there. On this account they again set out early next morning, and keeping close to the sea, passed by the site of the ancient Sarepta, crossed the Nahr-el-Kasmin, and in another hour arrived at Tyre, where, notwithstanding their anxiety to place themselves under the protection of the French consul, who was travelling with an escort, they were detained for a moment by the recollection of the ancient glory of the place.
Having indulged their curiosity for an instant, they again hurried forward, the phantom of the consul still flitting before them, like the enchanted bird in the Arabian Nights, and reached Ras-el-Am, or the “Promontory of the Fountains,” where those famous reservoirs called the “Cisterns of Solomon” are situated. Our traveller, who had little respect for traditions, conjectured that these works, however ancient they might be, could not with propriety be ascribed to the Hebrew king, since the aqueduct which they were intended to supply was built upon the narrow isthmus uniting the island to the continent, constructed by Alexander during the siege of the city; and we may be sure, he observes, that the aqueduct cannot very well be older than the ground it stands upon.
At Acra they found the consul, who had politely delayed his departure to the last moment in order to give them time to arrive; and next morning continued their journey in his company. Crossing the river Belus, on whose banks glass is said to have been first manufactured, and making across the plain towards the foot of Carmel, they entered the narrow valley through which the ancient Kishon, famous for the destruction of Sisera’s host, rolls its waters towards the sea. After threading for many hours the mazes of this narrow valley, they issued forth towards evening upon the plains of Esdraelon sprinkled with Arab flocks and tents, and in the distance beheld the famous mounts of Tabor and Hermon, and the sacred site of Nazareth. Here they learned the full force of the Psalmist’s poetical allusions to the “dews of Hermon,” for in the morning they found their tents as completely drenched by it as if it had rained all night.
Paying the customary tribute to the Arabs as they passed, they proceeded on their way, their eyes resting at every step on some celebrated spot: Samaria, Sichem, mounts Ebal and Gerizim, places rendered venerable by the wanderings of prophets and patriarchs, but hallowed in a more especial manner by the footsteps of Christ. They now began to enter upon a more rocky and mountainous country, and passing by the spot where Jacob saw angels ascending and descending, “in the vision of God,” and Beer, supposed to be the Michmas of the Scriptures, to which Jonathan fled from the revenge of his brother Abimelech, arrived at the summit of a hill, whence Rama, anciently Gibeah of Saul, the plain of Jericho, the mountains of Gilead, and Jerusalem itself were visible in one magnificent panorama.
Being in the Holy City, which no man, whether believer or unbeliever, can visit without the most profound emotion, Maundrell enjoyed unrestrainedly the romantic delight of living where Christ had lived and died, which to a high-minded religious man must be one of the noblest pleasures which travelling can afford. They resided, during their stay, at the Latin convent, visiting the various places which are supposed to possess any interest for pilgrims; such as the church of the Sepulchre, on Mount Calvary, the grotto of Jeremiah, the sepulchres of the kings, and the other famous places within the precincts or in the vicinity of the city.