While we were coming on shore there was a row between the guide of the hotel, and the dragomen belonging to the same establishment, in consequence of the former trying to fasten himself upon us, for the journey to Damascus. The latter requested the guide to stick to his business, and imperatively told him to mind his place and keep it. Some of my readers may ask the difference between the two positions, and for their benefit I will venture an explanation.
A guide is a necessary evil of European or Oriental travel, particularly the latter; you can get along in Europe without a guide, unless you are pressed greatly for time and want to see things in the shortest possible limit, but in Oriental cities you will find a guide indispensable, at least for the first two or three days of your stay, until you get the run of the place. The “guide” belongs to the city and its surroundings; he is called guide in the Orient, and valet de place or commissionaire in Europe. In Europe he generally knows something of the history of the city, where he shows you about and can tell you of the curiosities, the date of the construction of the cathedral, palaces, et cetera. But in the Orient you must not expect anything of the kind; you must rely upon your guide book for all historical information, and as a general thing, must indicate to the guide the different places you wish to visit. His services generally consist in taking you to those places, and in acting as your interpreter. As for knowledge beyond his day and generation he has none. For example, a local guide in Venice will take you to the Doge’s palace, or the church of St. Mark, and tell you the date of construction, the name of the builder, the uses of each portion, and will go on step by step till he has delivered a sort of lyceum lecture, which he has carefully learned, has delivered a great many times before and expects to deliver as often as he can get an engagement for an indefinite number of years to come. In Constantinople you wish to visit the Mosque of St. Sophia; the guide will get the necessary ticket and take you there, and the most you can expect of him, after you get inside, is to tell you which is the floor and which is the roof. Sometimes he is not equal even to that effort of intellect.
In Europe there is the travelling courier; he is engaged by people willing to pay for luxuries, goes with them from city to city, looks after their baggage, makes most of their bargains, acts as their interpreter, and frequently as a local guide, and is supposed to know the continent and its belongings pretty thoroughly.
The dragoman is to the Orient what the courier is to Europe. The difference is caused by the difference of the two regions. In Europe you travel by rail and steamer; in the Orient there are no railways, and in all Syria and Palestine, with the exception of the one between Beyrout and Damascus, there is not a carriage road. You must travel on horseback, must sleep in tents, while between the cities, and must have a regular camp equipage.
The dragoman makes it his business to attend to all this. He supplies your parties with horses, tents, food, and everything else at a fixed price per day, and when in the cities he supplies you with a local guide, but never acts as one himself. He is to the guide what the horse is to the donkey, or a general to a captain, and he frequently puts on airs enough to set up a windmill. I hope I have made a clear enough explanation of the difference between the two. From Beyrout to Damascus there is an excellent road, equal to the best turnpikes of America, and the diligence roads of Europe. It was constructed by a French company under a charter or firman from the Sultan, and is a triumph of engineering skill. Twice a day there is a diligence each way over the road; the morning departure is at four A. M., and the evening at six P. M. The time from Beyrout to Damascus fourteen and one-half hours and from Damascus to Beyrout thirteen and one-half, owing to the difference of elevation.
We went at once to the office of the company, where we were politely received, and after considerable talk, and an examination of the diligences, we hired a special carriage, which was to take our party of six to Damascus and back, stopping midway long enough to allow us to visit Baalbek.
The entire cost, including the halt en route, and at Damascus, was about sixteen dollars (gold) for each person, certainly not an unreasonable price. But we came near having to pay more, and it happened this way.
We conducted our negotiations in the outer office, and when we had settled the whole matter, paid the money and received the ticket there arose a question about some trivial matter which the agent said he would refer to the manager. The manager’s office was across the hall, and as the agent entered it, he beckoned for us to follow. We sauntered in, one after the other, and on entering found manager and agent settling the question we had raised.
The manager raised his eyes as we entered. They rested upon us for an instant and then he started back as though somebody had drawn a revolver upon him.
“Mon Dieu!” he exclaimed, “and is this the party for Damascus?”