On the following day, we mounted by a very zigzag path to the summit of Lebanon. For three hours the ascent continued with different degrees of acclivity over a stony and rocky soil. Nearly at the top, we met with a Turkish harým, or, in other words, the female part of a Turkish family. The order of their march, and the manner of their equipage, will give a general idea of the mode that women adopt in travelling in this country. First of all, upon two mules, covered with saddle-bags or wallets and small carpets, sat astride two female black slaves, veiled. A leathern bottle of water hung down by the side of each of their pack-saddles: two muleteers walked by the side of them. Next followed a stout mule; on each side of which was suspended an oblong box, tilted, large enough to hold one person seated with his legs doubled under him. In one of these sat the lady, and in the other her two children, squatting on their hams, and whose weight seemed to balance hers. Each step of the mule gave a vibrating or swinging motion to the boxes, and the sensation must have been that of a rickety boat on a short sea. Behind came several mules with luggage; and the whole was closed by a chokadàr, or confidential servant, who generally accompanies the women, and is most times an elderly man.
We gained the summit of the mountain; and, after traversing a somewhat level surface for a couple of furlongs, with little patches of snow lying here and there wherever they were sheltered from the southern sun, we began to descend. At this part, the mountain was thinly covered with low firs. Suddenly we came upon a glade, where the extensive view of the plain of the Bkâ broke upon us, bounded to the east by the Anti-Lebanon, whose bare and craggy sides ran parallel to the mountain on which we were. Before us was the lofty summit of Gebel el Shaykh, covered with everlasting snow. The fertile plain beneath our feet presented a surface variegated with yellow and green; having low hamlets scattered about, and now and then a considerable village. Throughout its whole length, but nearer the Lebanon than the Anti-Lebanon, ran the river Casmia (the ancient Leontes, or Letanus), which takes its rise beyond Baâlbec; towards whose ruined temples we turned our eager eyes, and indistinctly beheld them, although at thirty miles’ distance, as they reflected the rays of the luminary in whose honour they had been erected.
Having halted at noon, after a rest of four hours, we renewed our journey, descending by a rapid zigzag path. The cook, with his horse, fell over a small precipice, but without sustaining any injury. When we had reached the plain, we came to the village of Keferea. We conceived ourselves to be still on very high land, as we had descended from the summit in so short a time in comparison with that which it required to ascend it. We quickened our pace to reach the village of Jûb Genýn, where we were to encamp that night. Here for the first time I beheld the Palma Christi, or castor-oil plant, cultivated in fields as we sow beans in England, and now about two or three feet high. The berries were nearly ripe, and, as I learned, would soon be harvested for the purpose of extracting the oil; which is done by roasting them in the same manner as coffee, and afterwards boiling them. The oil floats on the surface of the water, and is skimmed off. This oil is used for lamps only, its medicinal properties being, nevertheless, not unknown to the natives; but when called into use it is customary to administer one berry in substance, which acts as a most violent and uncertain purgative.
After one hour’s march from the foot of the mountain, we reached the village of Jûb Genýn, and encamped on a spacious greensward, close to a bridge which crosses the river. On the opposite bank is a piece of ruinous masonry, which is called a caravansery. The village itself is beautifully situate at the distance of half a mile or more from the bridge, and on a rising ground, at the foot of Gebel el Shaykh. The village looked somewhat large and respectable, and excited my curiosity so much as to induce me to go and examine it. It proved to be half in ruins, from the effect of pillage and desertion, to which it had been subjected more than once in the contentions between the Emir of the Drûzes and the pasha of Damascus. The greatest part of the plain of the Bkâ belongs to the Emir of the Drûzes; so that we were yet within his territory, and consequently his officers caused provisions of all sorts to be brought to us.
We departed next day in the usual manner; and, in the afternoon, reached the foot of Anti-Lebanon, into which we entered, by a winding path and by a very gentle ascent, through valleys surrounded by low mountains: and, in two hours and a half from the time of our departure, we encamped at the village of Ayta, noted for its pottery. The village might contain about fifty families, who wore the appearance of squalid poverty.
On the 30th of August, early in the morning, I quitted the party, accompanied by one of the chokadàr’s soldiers and my groom, Ibrahim, in order to precede Lady Hester by a day and prepare a house. For two hours I continued still winding through the mountains, which by degrees became lofty, totally uncultivated, and very abrupt. At the distance of one hour from Ayta there is a small spring of water, and three hours farther there are two or three springs, which unite and form a rivulet. Close by the rivulet are the ruins of a caravansery, and, on the adjoining mountain, some patches of a wall that once, apparently, belonged to a castle. Excavations in the rocks mark out, likewise, the mansions of the dead of earlier times. A flock of vultures, perched on the pinnacles of the rocks, testified who were the present tenants of this wild spot. Caravans sometimes, as we could see by the traces they had left, had been tempted to make this place a station, and might have enlivened the scene with momentary bustle: but now a mournful silence reigned around.
A little further on, we passed close by the village of Demás, on our left. The small stream, which took its rise near the caravansary, had continued its course to Demás, where it was diverted into trenches to irrigate several gardens. The mountains now changed their appearance, and the soil, from a sandstone, became chalky. Demás looked like a miserable village. Some women, who were coming out of it, were remarkably tall.
At a quick foot-pace, we pursued our way, and, in fifteen minutes, entered a plain, which proved to be about six miles across, totally rocky and barren. At the extremity of it was a rivulet, and here commenced the orchards and gardens of Damascus. Throughout the whole plain the rock had been of a gray stone: the soil became again chalky, and the gardens, with the stream running between them down the valley, formed by their verdure a singular contrast with the whiteness of the hills. Following the course of the stream, we came soon afterwards to a river, where the adjoining grounds were in a still higher state of cultivation. Upon its banks stood a small village, called Dymmásh. Here we crossed a rickety bridge about a dozen feet over, close to which was a water-mill, and now began to ascend a mountain, whence my guide told me I should see the city of Sham.[88] At the summit stands a sanctuary, built in memory of some holy Mahometan, and by it is a spring of water, which is said never to fail. I was somewhat amazed at this my guide’s assertion, when I saw that we were some hundred feet above the plain, and on the ridge of a mountain: but I was less surprised, when, on looking around, I beheld another mountain top, still higher, at no great distance, communicating by a sloping ridge with that on which I was.
It was on the 30th of August, in the afternoon, that, as we came upon the brow of the mountain which overlooks Damascus, the view of that beautiful city and its environs broke upon me. I was much struck at the sight. The plain of Brusa had hitherto dwelt upon my memory as the richest scenery I had ever beheld: but I now did not hesitate to consider this far beyond it. Descriptions, when best painted, although they may come home to the imagination, must necessarily be fallacious: I shall therefore forbear enlarging upon it.
Having indulged a short time in the pleasure which the view afforded, I descended the mountain, and soon arrived among the orchards and gardens. These are all enclosed by mud walls, of considerable thickness and durability, which would have made the road somewhat monotonous, but for the overshadowing branches of the fig, mulberry, apricot, and other fruit-trees, with here and there rich festoons of vine-branches clustered with grapes, which most agreeably diversified it.