Syria, the land of Lebanon

by Lewis Gaston Leary

The Arab geographer always faces towards the east. So the southernmost portion of the Arabian peninsula is to him the Yemen or “Right,” and this northern district of ours is called esh-Shâm or the “Left-hand Land.” The name Surîya or “Syria,” an ancient corruption of “Assyria,” is also, however, frequently employed, especially by the Turks.

As this territory is not a modern political unit, its limits are variously defined, both by natives and foreigners. The whole country between Asia Minor and Egypt is often called Syria, and its inhabitants, who have the same language and customs and are of practically the same—very mixed—blood, are known as Syrians. But from the historical viewpoint it is perhaps more exact to distinguish between Palestine and Syria, and confine the latter name to the territory which lies to the north of the Hebrew boundary-town of Dan.

Syria then, as we shall use the word, extends from the southern slopes of Mount Hermon to the Bay of Alexandretta, a distance of about two hundred and fifty miles. It is a long, narrow country. At the west is the Mediterranean; at the east is the Syrian Desert; within these boundaries, the width is never more than fifty miles.

The wealth and power of Syria have always been found in its southern half—the country of Lebanon. Here the mountains are divided into two parallel ranges by the long valley which the Greeks called “Hollow Syria.” Between this valley and the Mediterranean is Lebanon; between the valley and the desert is the twin range of Anti-Lebanon.[5] The western mountains rise gradually toward their northern, end, where they attain an elevation of over 11,000 feet. The eastern chain, however, reaches its culmination in its southernmost peak, Mount Hermon, which is 9,000 feet above the sea. On the coastal plain beside Lebanon lie the ancient cities of Tyre, Sidon and Byblos and the modern ports of Beirut and Tripoli. On a peninsula of fertility watered by the streams of Anti-Lebanon, Damascus stands between the mountains and the desert. The rest of Syria is made up of lofty summits, rocky gorges resounding with the tumult of cave-born torrents, high wind-swept pasture lands and broad, fertile valleys slanting up between the mountains.

The lovelorn Syrian does not sing dolefully of a sweetheart who “lies over the ocean.” To him the typical barrier is not the sea. Beni ubenik ej-jebel runs the plaintive lament—“Between me and thee is the mountain.” The country is more crowded with towering peaks than Palestine or Greece, but it is more fertile than either. No other region of equal size has such a variety of vegetable life; no other land is more healthful; and to those of us who have lived in the shadow of Lebanon, none is more beautiful.

Syria, as we have defined it, includes one entire vilâyet, or province, of the Turkish Empire and parts of three others. Its extreme northern portion is included in the great Vilayet of Aleppo, which stretches far across the desert to Mesopotamia. Anti-Lebanon and most of Hollow Syria lie within the Vilayet of esh-Shâm, or “Syria.” This important province, whose capital is Damascus, takes in all the arable land east of the Jordan as far as the southern end of the Dead Sea. The independent Mutesarrifîyet, or sub-province, of Lebanon is practically co-extensive with this range, but touches the Mediterranean only for a few miles and has no seaport. Almost the entire coast belongs to the Vilayet of Beirut, which reaches from Mount Akra, a hundred and fifty miles north of the provincial capital, to within sight of the harbor of Jaffa and includes nearly all of Palestine west of the Jordan River.

In the absence of any census, we can hardly do more than guess at the population of Syria. It is probably above two million. The Turkish residents are for the most part government officials, and there are few Jews outside of Beirut and Damascus. The mass of the inhabitants are descendants of the Syrians, or Arameans, of Biblical times; but the native blood has been mixed with that of many other races. It is scarcely correct to call these people “Arabs,” except in the sense that they are an Arabic-speaking race. In countenance, as well as customs, they differ considerably from their less civilized cousins who roam the neighboring deserts.

The ecclesiastical bodies of Syria are numerous, jealous and extremely fanatical. In striking contrast to the awkward reticence of the West regarding religious matters, every Syrian not only counts himself an adherent of the faith into which he was born, but he thrusts that fact upon your attention and, on the slightest provocation, is ready to fight for his belief. A man’s ancestors, descendants and home may be cursed with all the wealth of Oriental vituperation, and he will probably accept this as a mere emphatic conversational embellishment. But let the single word dinak! “thy religion!” be spoken with a curseful intonation to a follower of a different faith, and the spirit of murder is let loose.

Islam is, of course, the official religion of the government; but in the southern half of the country the majority of the inhabitants are Christians. The most powerful church is the Greek Orthodox; next in importance come the Maronites and Greek Catholics, who render allegiance to the Pope of Rome. Nearly a dozen other sects, exclusive of the Protestants, are actively working and hating and scheming in Syria. Many of the members of these Oriental churches are sincere and devout; but, on the whole, the organized Christianity of Syria, like that of neighboring Palestine,[6] has been so inextricably entangled with political ambitions, sectarian jealousy and civil warfare that its moral and religious teachings are in danger of being completely neglected.

Syrian Mohammedanism is also divided against itself, though not to such a hazardous degree as is Syrian Christianity. Many villages in northern Lebanon are occupied by adherents of the schismatic Shiite sect. These Metawileh, as they are called, bear an unenviable reputation for their ignorance, dishonesty, brutality and, what is very unusual in Syria, their lack of hospitality. They will refuse accommodations to a traveler and are accustomed to break the earthenware drinking-jug which has been defiled by the touch of a stranger. Still farther north there survive a few settlements of the Ismailians, who during the Middle Ages were known as the Assassins—literally, “hashish-smokers.” Their character is sufficiently indicated by the fact that the only thing they gave the Western world was the word “assassin.”