Following the Mediterranean coast from Sidon to Beirût, which is the commercial emporium of Syria and Palestine, we passed through the busy streets of the latter town, and, leaving the pine forests and mulberry groves which environ the city to the west, we began the ascent of Lebanon. Riding rapidly over the newly-made road, we soon mounted the western spurs of Lebanon, and at midday reached the summit. The skies were lowery, and a dense fog hung upon the mountains. At times the fog was impenetrable, and the muleteers were compelled to call to each other frequently, and ring the warning bell of their approach. Turning to the southeast of Wady Hummâna, we began to descend amid wild and varied scenery. The clouds now were lifted up; the sun shone with unwonted splendor; and at our feet lay the glorious Plain of the Bukâ’a. The descent was along the southern side of this magnificent glen, the upper part of which is nine miles across; the bottom is dotted with villages, and the rocky sides are sprinkled with pines. The banks are shelving, and the new road not having been completed to this point, our horses cautiously picked their way among the rocks. To the north of the ravine, and on the summit of a lofty spur of the mountain, stand the ruins of a Druze castle, and to the south of it are a few excavated tombs.
Misdirected by a muleteer, our dragoman attempted to cross the Bukâ’a in a straight line, avoiding a long sweep over the ordinary path; but the recent rains had flooded the plains to the depth of three feet, and the Leontes swept by with increased velocity. Fording one branch of the river in safety, we were compelled to ride for several miles in water up to our horses’ haunches, and, on reaching the main channel of the Leontes, we found the banks too steep and the stream too deep and rapid to ford. Night was upon us, and, as our only alternative, we rode northward eight miles, and, after crossing four or five bridges, pursued our journey in the darkness of the hour to the small village of Mejdel, where, after having been in the saddle fourteen consecutive hours, we obtained lodgings in the humble cottage of a Maronite Christian.
Not far from the town is a hill crowned with the ruins of some extraordinary but unknown temple, and from its brokenwalls we obtained a view of the great Plain of Bukâ’a. The eye followed the mountains on each side to the northward till lost to view, and southward to where the chains converge and form the gorge of the Leontes. “The plain is smooth as a lake, and the artificial mounds which here and there dot its surface might well pass for islands.” Three miles to the northeast are the remains of the ancient city of Chalcis, and 25 miles beyond are the stupendous and splendid ruins of Ba’albek, the Heliopolis of Antoninus Pius, and the rival of Athens in the grandeur and proportions of its temples and palaces.
Mounting our horses, in half an hour we entered the defiles of anti-Lebanon. Ascending the long but picturesque glen of Wady Harîr, we met a pompous cavalcade, escorting the wives and female slaves of the Pasha of Damascus to Beirût. The ladies rode in sedans, the sides of which were of glass, and which were borne on poles by two mules, one in front and the other behind. The chief ladies were in the maturity of womanhood, and their countenances were exceedingly fair. They were attired in the most costly manner, and over their faces were drawn thin white veils. In the sedans which followed were beautiful Circassian girls, and behind them came Nubian girls, remarkable only for their blackness. All seemed happy, and each returned our salutation with exquisite grace. The eunuchs were mounted on magnificent Arabian horses, elegantly caparisoned, and the Turkish cavalry, well mounted, and each bearing a long lance, appeared proud and vigilant.
On leaving Wady Harîr we ascended a ridge of gray hills, and were soon on the desert plateau of Sahl Judeideh. In all my wanderings in Arabia and Palestine, I had seen nothing to exceed the sterility and forbidding aspect of this upland plain. But, as Nature loves contrasts, the bleak hills and plains of Judeideh only enhance, by way of contrast, the glorious Plain of El-Merj, on which Damascus stands. Reaching the summit of the ridge, the city of Eliezer and Naaman lay before me, embowered in gardens of vast extent and of the most enchanting beauty. Beholding it for myself, I could no longer wonder at the sublime encomiums which Arabian writers and modern travelers have pronounced upon this entrancing prospect. On a magnificent plain, bounded by lofty mountains, are gardens of olive, apricot, pomegranate, cypress, poplar, willow, walnut, lemon, and orange trees, covering an area of 30 milesin circuit, from the midst of which rise tapering minarets, swelling domes, castellated towers, and white-roofed palaces, the abodes of merchant princes. It is this half-opened and half-secluded view of the city that gives power and charm to the vision. Now you see a golden crescent peering above the bright green foliage, sparkling in the sunlight like a diamond in a circlet of emeralds; now appears a half-ruined castle through an opening glade of cypresses and walnuts; and again is seen the white dome of an ancient mosque, embowered with stately palms and gracefully drooping willows.
Unlike other Oriental cities, Damascus retains the charm of her beauty even when seen from within. There is a fascination in her sparkling fountains and golden-flowing Abana, meandering amid bright oleanders and tall poplars, and breaking ever and anon into dashing cascades; in her marble palaces, with mosaic walls and arabesque ceilings, and splendid mosques, where the khalifs of a thousand years have worshiped; and in her long, rich bazars, where are seen the shawls of Cashmere, the carpets of Persia, the silks of the East, and her own Damascus blades, jeweled daggers, and gold-embroidered robes.
The great plain on which Damascus stands is 21 miles wide, and has an elevation of 2200 feet above the sea. Triangular in shape, it is bounded on the northwest by the anti-Lebanon range, which varies in height from 500 to 1500 feet; along its southwestern border flows the River Pharpar, beyond which are the Mountains of Haurân, which are dimly seen upon the horizon; on the east are three lakes, surrounded by a dense thicket, and bounding the horizon beyond is a range of conical hills. On this rich plain, covered with vegetation, are over 100 villages, containing a population of 40,000 souls. The eastern portion is called El-Merj, while that lying around the city bears the name of Ghûtah. Its perennial fertility is due to the Abana and Pharpar, “rivers of Damascus.” The highest sources of the latter are near the village ’Arny, in a large basin-like glen in Mount Hermon. Enlarged by several smaller streams near Sa’sa’, its clear waters sweep along in a deep, narrow bed, confined on one side by a rugged wall of volcanic rock, and on the other by cliffs of limestone. At first a small, lively stream, it increases in volume as it flows eastward, and, after meandering through rich meadows, it enters the southernof the three lakes, not far from the town of Heijâny. The Abana rises in a high plain south of Zebedâny, on anti-Lebanon. The head of the stream is called Fijeh, and is one of the largest and most beautiful fountains in Syria. Bursting forth from a narrow cave, it leaps, foams, and roars as it descends to a confluence with other streams, when at once it becomes a rapid torrent 30 feet wide and four deep. Cutting its way through the mountain, its channel widens and deepens, and from its bed rise cliffs 1000 feet high, and white almost as the snow of Hermon. Rushing in a southeasterly direction down the mountain, and issuing upon the plain through a wild chasm, it turns eastward, and, flowing along the north wall of Damascus, takes its way across the plain to the two northern lakes. Whether we consider the beautiful blue tinge of its waters, or their deliciousness, or their fertilizing power, or the sylvan lakes and pretty cascades they form, the Abana is deservedly the most celebrated of Syrian rivers. To secure the advantages to be derived from such a deep, broad stream, its waters are diverted from its channel through not less than nine canals for the supply of the city and the irrigation of the plain.
Somewhere on this plain, to the southeast of the city, occurred two great events—themeeting of Hazael and the Prophet Elisha,[687]and the conversion of St. Paul.[688] Elisha came from Palestine, and, when near Damascus, Hazael met him with a present from Benhadad, the then reigning king, who was lying dangerously ill. Ambitious and unscrupulous, Hazael returned to his royal master with the prophetic promise of recovery; but, taking advantage of the king’s debility, Hazael murdered Benhadad and mounted the throne of Syria.
Nearly a thousand years later, and perhaps upon the same spot, occurred the other and grander event. On leaving Jerusalem, Saul of Tarsus pursued the ancient caravan track to the capital of Syria. Having passed in his journey the most renowned cities in Palestine, and the scenes of the most important events in the history of Christ, he at length drew near to Damascus. It was while his heart swelled with pride and hope at the prospect of the speedy consummation of his terrible mission that “suddenly there shined round about him a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun,” and he “heard a voice saying unto him, Saul, Saul, why persecutestthou me?” Though it is not possible to identify the exact spot where he fell to the ground, the features of the landscape remain unchanged. There now, as then, the white dome of Hermon is on the south; the bare ridge of anti-Lebanon is on the north; while to the east are the gardens, the domes, and towers of Damascus. Now, as then, the sky is cloudless, and a Syrian sun shines in his strength; and now, as then, the peasant in the same field drives his oxen with sharp goads, which illustrate, if they did not suggest, the words of Jesus, “It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.”
Damascus is too old to have ruins. She has outlived Nineveh, and Babylon, and Thebes, and Palmyra, and Ba’albek, and Greece, and Rome, and, retaining the freshness of her youth, seems destined to live throughout all time. Though successively the prize of the Persian, the Greek, the Roman, the Saracen, the Christian, and now of the Turk, yet by some mysterious law she has resisted the changes of fortune incident to the change of rulers, and, prospering under each dynasty, she is still the greatest commercial city of Asiatic Turkey, carrying on, as in olden times, an extensive trade with Egypt, Persia, Bagdad, and the Bedouins of the Eastern desert.