We reached our hotel before sundown. It was the only good one in the city, I think; and, with the exception of the dining-room, seemed Eastern in style and furnishing. In the large drawing-rooms or divans several of the guests sat cross-legged; but we seated ourselves in home fashion upon the rich cushions around the walls, and enjoyed our coffee, but without pipes, listening to the gentle murmur of the fountain just outside the open door leading from the inner court.
Having obtained an introduction to the English Consul, we called and received a very polite reception, with the usual pipes and coffee. His house was not large, but new, and with richly ornamented rooms in a curious mirrored Arabesque style. He advised us not to leave our hotel after sunset, as some political or religious uneasiness seemed to be felt at the time in the city, as indeed there too often is.
Damascus is the oldest city in the world, founded it is supposed by Noah’s grandson, and still remains an important one—geographically, religiously, politically, and commercially. Its history is long, eventful, and bloody; and even yet it is distinguished by religious and national bigotry beyond its compeers. Saul came hither breathing out threatenings and slaughter, and was himself let down by the wall in a basket to escape being killed. The Governor of Syria, whose appointment was then recent, we saw driving through the principal streets in an English-looking carriage, with splendid horses, and attended by a large guard of cavalry. He was a rich Turk from Constantinople, from whose government, we were told, much had been at first expected, as he was supposed to be wealthy enough to be independent of selling his subordinate offices for gold—the bane of Turkish government. A vigorous and efficient administration of justice had been looked for, and for a month or two the unruly were over-awed, but this did not continue. We heard it whispered in the hotel that on the previous day there had been a fight in the street, in which four were killed and three wounded. Such was Damascus; and so, because no British or other foreign subject had suffered, nothing more was heard of the affair.
We ascended a hill on the north, on which is built what is called Mahomet’s Tower—from this point, says the legend, he viewed the beautiful scene below. “There can only be one Paradise,” he said, “and as mine is above, I will not even enter this one”—and so he forthwith retraced his steps. Had he entered, perhaps he would have somewhat modified his opinion. The valley extends as far as the eye can reach, and, so far as discernible from this elevation, it seems almost deserving of the Mahomedan’s praise of it—“beautiful beyond compare.”
The river Abana, sparkling in the sunbeams—save where it is partially concealed by a narrow belt of slender willow trees, which serves to shade it from the sun—flows down from the mountains and south-eastward along the plain. This, as well as the Pharpar, a smaller stream from Hermon on the south, falls into an inland lake far eastward in the valley. The Abana flows along the north border of Damascus, and, considering the coolness and fertilizing qualities of these rivers, it was somewhat natural that the Syrian general’s—Naaman—pride was hurt at being told—“Go wash in the Jordan.” Still, with all their beauty, the Syrian rivers certainly cannot be compared with the grander Jordan.
The houses of the city are plain-looking outside, the windows fronting the narrow streets are few in number, and, with their iron bars and fastenings, give somewhat a prison look. They are stone-built for the most part, but many seem of concrete or mud, cemented; inside, however, they show wealth and elegance entirely unexpected. The better class have always an inner paved court, and generally a marble fountain, with a few small trees; and the Arabesque decorations—sometimes with inlaid mother-of-pearl—and the furnishing of the rooms are very rich and luxurious-looking.
The veteran Emir chief, Abd-el-Kader, formerly Governor of Algiers, resided there in a kind of honourable banishment. He deserved the respect of the Christians for his exertions in saving them during the awful massacres which took place in 1860, when six thousand were cruelly murdered and their houses destroyed. I met him one morning at our hotel, when he called to see the Prussian Consul, who had come from Beyrout to meet the Duke of Mecklenburg, who was expected to arrive that day from Jerusalem. The chief was still a good-looking, soldierly man. The manners of the Easterns generally are very ceremonious, and the greetings appeared warm and cordial: in the Emir’s case they were courtly as well. Being performed in the open courtyard of the hotel—beside the beautiful orange and citron trees and the cool marble fountains—several of the inmates shared in the scene, and in the adieus of the once kingly chief. He has recently died, so will no more trouble France.
Since the massacre, of which traces are yet to be seen in the Christian quarter, all English—and indeed all foreigners—are well protected by Consuls, and security is felt in Syria by the condition then imposed on the Sultan that one of the Pashas should be a Christian. The result has been that schools of all kinds are now tolerated, or at least nominally so. The degraded and semi-captive condition of women is being very slightly ameliorated, and this must eventually loose the bonds of their servitude, which, although not a legal, is one of fashion—always the most despotic and impervious to improvement. Slavery has long been legally abolished; but it is said that young girls are yet frequently, though not publicly, sold for the harems of those who are able to pay for them, in most of the Moslem cities. Nor can I see how this monstrous trade can be eradicated, unless by the spread of Christian education amongst parents and children themselves. So long as profit is to be made, there will be found dealers to evade the law, especially if the judge is as guilty as the culprit; for there, if anywhere, gold is king, and bakshish is his prophet. For what could be expected when—as was then hinted—the new Governor had just introduced a harem of unusual magnitude, and indulged in all the luxurious pleasures of Mahomet’s paradise, besides something which is forbidden therein, as also to Good Templars at home?