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L ]E. W I S O If T 0;M: , v .f^^E Al
Bequeathed
to the
University of Toronto Library
by
the late Theophile James Meek,
Professor of Oriental Languages,
University College, 1923-1952,
and Head of the Department,
1951-1952.
SYRIA
THE LAND
OF
LEBANON
By LEWIS 0A8T0N LEARY
The Real Palestine of To-Day
Andorra, The Hidden Republic
The Christmas City
Syria, The Land of Lebanon
SYRIA
THE LAND OF
LEBANON
BY
LEWIS GASTON LEARY, Ph.D.
FORMIRLY INSTRUCTOR IV THE AMERICAN
COLLEGE, BEIRUT, SYRIA
Author of The Real Palestine of To-day,
Andorra, the Hidden Hepuhlic, etc.
NEW YORK
McBRIDE, NAST & COMPANY
1913
Copyright, 1913, bj
McBbidk, Nast & Co.
Second Printing
January, 1914
Published, November, 1913
\
AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
TO HIM WHO FIRST TURNED MY THOUGHTS
TOWARD SYRIA
MY FORMER PRECEPTOR AND ALWAYS
LOYAL FRIEND
GEORGE L. ROBINSON
/
PREFACE
Although Syria possesses a rare natural beauty
and boasts a wealth of historic and religious interest,
its fame has been so overshadowed by that of the
neighboring Land of Israel that most travelers are
content to take the easy railway journey to Baalbek
and Damascus, and know nothing of the wild moun-
tain valleys and snow-capped summits of Lebanon or
the many ancient shrines of a country whose history
reaches far back of the classic days of Greece.
It Is therefore with great pleasure that I accede
to the request of the publishers of my " Real Pales-
tine of To-day " and supplement the earlier work by
the present companion-volume on Syria; so that,
though the books may be read independently, the
two together may give a complete view of the lands
of the Bible.
The chapter on Palmyra Is from the pen of Pro-
fessor Harvey Porter, Ph.D., of the Syrian Prot-
estant College ; and for many of the hitherto un-
published photographs I am indebted to other mem-
bers of the faculty of that Institution. Grateful ac-
knowledgment Is also made to The World To-day^
The New Era, The Sunday School Times, The Nexv-
ark (N. J.) News, and especially to Travel and
Scribner's Magazine, for permission to include ma-
PREFACE
terial which originally appeared in these publications.
In the writing of Arabic words, my aim has been
smooth reading, rather than a systematic translitera-
tion of the numerous sounds which are not found in
English. As an aid to pronunciation, it should be
noted that the stress always falls upon a syllable
bearing a circumflex accent.
It will be seen that this book is written from a
more intimate and personal viewpoint than the vol-
ume on Palestine. I could not write otherwise of the
country which was for years my own home and where
to-day I have many cherished friends among both
Syrians and Franks. In fact, I must write very
slowly ; for every now and then I lay down my pen
and, with a homesick lump in my throat, dream over
again the happy days in that land of wondrous
beauty which I still love with all my heart.
Lewis Gaston Leahy
Pelham Manor, N. Y.,
October 15, 1913.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I The White Mountain 1
II The Left-Hand Land 6
III The City of Saturn 26
IV The Spirit of Olympia 44
V Across the Mountains 60
VI The Land of Uz 72
VII The Earthly Paradise 88
VIII The Port of the Wilderness .... 95
IX The Riches of Damascus 110
X The Desert Capital 128
XI Some Salt People 144
XII The Cedars of the Lord 163
XIII The Giant Stones of Baalbek . . . .184
XIV Hamath the Great 201
THE ILLUSTRATIONS
Evening in the harbor of Beirut . . Frontispiece
rACINQ
PAGE
Along the coast north of Beirut 4
Looking up the western slopes of Lebanon ... 5
Lebanon soldiers 16
Village of Deir el-Kamr l**
Bay of Beirut and Mount Sunnin 26
Pine groves of Beirut 27
Bridge over the Dog River 36
Procession in Beirut ^
Students of the American College 43
Cape of Beirut viewed from Lebanon .... 49
Old Bridge over the Barada River ^0
Cascade in the Yarmuk Valley '1
A caravan 82
Damascus — a distant view 83
Damascus — one of the more modern avenues . . 100
A Syrian cafe 101
Damascus — court of a private residence .... 112
Damascus — Moslem cemetery 113
Damascus — The Street called Straight .... 120
Damascus — The Omayyade Mosque . . ... ... 121
THE ILLUSTRATIONS
Palmyra — General view of the ruins
Palmyra — the Triple Gate .
Funeral procession of the patriarch
A summer camp in Lebanon .
The Cedar Mountain .
Source of the Kadisha River .
The oldest Cedar of Lebanon
Baalbek — the six great colunms
Baalbek — the stone in the quarry
Hama — the Orontes River
Maps and Plans
The railway from Beirut to Damascus
Cross-section of Syria ...
The Hauran
The temples of Baalbek ....
PA««
134
135
160
161
110
171
182
183
198
199
62
64
74
194
SYRIA
THE LAND
OF
LEBANON
Syria, The Land of Lebanon
CHAPTER I
THE WHITE MOUNTAIN
FAR off on the eastern horizon the thin haze of
an October dawn gently blended into denser
masses of silvery white, which rose like dream
mountains above the edge of the placid azure sea.
The soft, ethereal shapes did not change their out-
lines, however, as clouds do; and, as the steamer
drew nearer to them, the rounded forms gradually
took on an appearance of bulk and sohdity. These
were no mere piles of morning mist, but the massive
shoulders of the ancient, famous, glorious range
whose strange silvery tint when viewed from afar
caused it long, long ago to be called Lebanon — the
" White Mountain."
As we approached the shore, the sun rose into a
sky of brighter blue than ever domed Italian seas,
and great waves of color swept downward over the
round white mountainsides. I have traveled since
in many lands ; I know the beauty of Amalfi's cliffs,
the rich tints of the southern coast of Spain, the
[ I ]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
mystic alpenglow on the snow-clad peaks of Switz-
erland and the delicate opalescence of the Isles of
Greece ; but I have never seen — I never expect to
see — another glory of earth which can compare
with the wondrous coloring of the mountains of
Lebanon.
We watched floods of red and orange sweep across
the lofty summits and then brighten into crowns of
mellow gold. We looked into gorges tinged with a
purple so rich and deep that the color itself seemed
almost a tangible thing. Nearer still we drew, and
at the foot of the mountains there came into view
dark forests of evergreen and broad, sloping orchards
set here and there with tiny villages of shining white.
Then there appeared long lines of silvery surf and
yellow sand ; and we skirted the northern edge of
a rock-bound promontory to the crowded harbor of
Beirut.
The wording of the Old Testament might lead one
to infer that Lebanon is a single mountain, and the
modern Syrians also familiarly refer to it as ej-Jebel
— " The Mountain." It is not, however, an isolated
peak, but an entire range, which begins at the north-
em border of Palestine and stretches for a hundred
miles along the easternmost shore of the Mediter-
ranean. The narrow coastal plain cannot be dis-
tinguished at a distance. Straight out of the wa-
ter the thousand summits rise in ever loftier ranks
[ a ]
THE WHITE MOUNTAIN
up to the level profile of the central ridge, two miles
above the sea.
This " goodly mountain," which dying Moses
longed to see, became to Hebrew poets the consum-
mate symbol of all that was most strong and virile,
most beautiful and enduring. The springs of Leb-
anon, the forests of Lebanon, the glory of Lebanon
— of these they dreamed and, in ecstatic eulogy or
lofty spiritual hope, of these they loved to sing.
" Thou art a fountain of gardens, a well of living
waters, and flowing streams from Lebanon," ex-
claims the hero of the Song of Songs. " The smell
of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon." The
bride, too, sings of her lover, " His aspect is like
Lebanon, excellent as the cedars." ^ In more solemn
vein, the prophets who spoke of the coming Day of
Jehovah drew imperishable imagery from these north-
ern mountains. "The desert shall rejoice, and
blossom as the rose. . . . The glory of Lebanon shall
be given unto it." ^ Israel " shall blossom as the lil}',
and cast forth his roots as Lebanon. . . . They that
dwell under his shadow shall return; they shall re-
vive as the grain, and blossom as the vine : the scent
thereof shall be as the wine of Lebanon." ^ " The
glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir-tree,
the pine, and the box-tree together." ■*
Toward evening I strolled out to the end of the
1 Song of Songs 4:llf, 5:15. 3 Rosea 14:5, 7.
2 Isaiah 35:lf. * Isaiah 60:13.
£ 3 J
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
cape and looked for the first time upon what those
of us who have called Beirut our home may be par-
doned for beheving to be the loveliest prospect in
all this beautiful world. From this point can be
viewed eighty miles of a coast which in the time of
Abraham had already seen the rise and fall of many
a proud civilization. To the south is the ancient
city of Sidon, thirty miles away, and the rocky point
of Sarepta and, in the dim distance, the bold head-
land of the " Ladder of Tyre." To the north, be-
yond the gorges of the River of Death and the Dog
River, is the River of Adonis, where the loves of
heaven and earth were celebrated many centuries
before there were Greeks in Greece. Still farther
north, Jebail — ancient Byblos — disputes Damas-
cus' claim to be the oldest of cities ; and thirty-
five miles away the view of the coast is closed
by the cape which the Greeks called Theoprosopon,
the " Face of God." The Syrians, however, have
named this Ras esh-Shukkah or the " Split-ofF
Point," and say that it was torn away from the
mountain and thrown bodily into the sea during the
great earthquake of July 9, 551, A. D. In this land
of fearful cataclysms, the story is quite possible of be-
lief.
At the west is the expanse of the " Great Sea."
At the east, just back of the cape, are the great
mountains. Everything along the shore of the Med-
iterranean is warm, almost tropical in its verdure,
£ 4 ]
THE WHITE MOUNTAIN
and resplendent in the orient hues painted by the
Syrian sun. The lower slopes of Lebanon are soft
with vineyards and groves of olive, fig and mulberry.
Above the green orchards and white villages are dark
pine forests, and somber gorges cut deep between
smooth, swelling moorlands. Higher still the deso-
late, lonely slopes are quite bare of vegetation ; yet,
in the clear atmosphere, they seem as soft as if they
were overlaid with bright velvets and shimmering
silks. Last of all, the eye is drawn up to the sum-
mits of Kenelseh and Sunnin, tinged with orange and
purple in the summer sunset, and in winter covered
with vast sheets of snow.
From the tropics to the chill barrenness of the arc-
tics — it is all comprehended in one glorious pano-
rama. What an Arabic poet wrote of yonder tow-
ering Sunnin is true of the whole range —
" He bears winter upon his head,
Spring upon his shoulders,
Autumn in his bosom,
While summer lies slumbering at his feet."
But Lebanon is more than a splendid spectacle.
There would be no Syria, no fertile mother of the
olive and orange, no land of the long martial his-
tory, no tale of ancient culture or modern enterprise,
save for the Mountain, whose lofty peaks break the
rain-clouds borne hither by the west winds and drop
their precious moisture on the thirsty soil below.
[ 5 ]
CHAPTER II
i
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
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-Shdm or the " Left-hand Land." The name
Sunya or " Syria," an ancient corruption of " As-
syria," is also, however, frequently employed, espe-
cially by the Turks.
As this territory is not a modern political unit, its
limits are variously defined, both by natives and for-
eigners. 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 prac-
tically 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 terri-
tory 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
[ 6 ]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
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 valle^'' which the Greeks called
" Hollow Syria." Between this valley and the Med-
iterranean is Lebanon ; between the valley and the
desert is the twin range of Anti-Lebanon.-^ The
western mountains rise gradually toward their north-
ern end, where they attain an elevation of over 11,-
000 feet. The eastern chain, however, reaches its
culmination in its southernmost peak, Mount Her-
mon, 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 modem 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-bom tor-
rents, high wind-swept pasture lands and broad,
fertile valleys slanting up between the mountains.
The lovelorn SA^-ian does not sing dolefully of a
sweetheart who " lies over the ocean." To him the
typical barrier is not the sea. Beni uhenik ej-jebel
1 See map, page 62, and cross-section, page 64.
[ 7 ]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
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
vUdyet, or province, of the Turkish Empire and parts
of three others. Its extreme northern portion is in-
cluded in the great Vilayet of Aleppo, which stretches
far across the desert to Mesopotamia. Anti-Leba-
non and most of Hollow Syria lie within the Vilayet
of esh-Shdm, 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 Mutesarrifiyet,
or sub-province, of Lebanon is practically co-extcn-
sive 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 Pal-
estine 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 resi-
[ 8 ]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
dents are for the most part government officials, and
tliere arc few Jews outside of Beirut and Damascus.
The mass of the inhabitants are descendants of the
S3' rians, 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 Ara-
bic-speaking race. In countenance, as well as cus-
toms, they differ considerably from their less civi-
lized cousins who roam the neighboring deserts.
The ecclesiastical bodies of Syria are numerous,
jealous and extremely fanatical. In striking con-
trast to the awkward reticence of the West regard-
ing 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 probabl}' 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 gov-
ernment ; 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 Catho-
[ 9 ]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
lies, who render allegiance to the Pope of Rome.
Nearly a dozen other sects, exclusive of the Prot-
estants, are actively working and hating and schem-
ing in Syria. Many of the members of these Orien-
tal churches are sincere and devout; but, on the
whole, the organized Christianity of Syria, like that
of neighboring Palestine,^ has been so inextricably
entangled with political ambitions, sectarian jealousy
and civil warfare that its moral and religious teach-
ings are in danger of being completely neglected.
Syrian Mohammedanism is also divided against it-
self, 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,
dishonestjs brutality and, what is very unusual in
Sj'ria, 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 far-
ther north there survive a few settlements of the Is-
mailians, 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."
2 See further the author's The Real Palestine of To-day,
chapter III.
[ 10 ]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
In the mountains which bear their name are a hun-
dred thousand Nusairiyeh, who migrated hither
many centuries ago from Mesopotamia and still hold
to a strange, m^^stic nature-worship. Traces
of the vile phallic cults of ancient Syria are also
found among the wilder regions of the north.
The sixty thousand Druses of central and south-
ern Lebanon are frequently confused with the Mos-
lems by careless writers ; on the other hand they are
sometimes referred to as a Christian sect. As a
matter of fact, they are neither. Although this
faith originated among followers of Islam, the early
Druses suffered many persecutions at the hands of
the Moslems, who classed them as " infidels," while
their feuds with the Christian populace of Lebanon
have led to some of the most cruel and bitter strug-
gles of modern times.
In the eleventh century an insane ruler of Egypt
named Hakim Biamrillah declared himself to be the
Imam-, or incaraation of the Deity, and his preposter-
ous claims found an enthusiastic prophet in a Persian
resident of Cairo called ed-Durazy, from whom is
derived the familiar name " Druse." The adherents
of this sect, however, call themselves Mmcahhidin,
or " Unitarians." Such was the wrath of the
Egyptian INIoslems at el-Durazy's preaching that
he was forced to flee to the mountains of Syria,
where the new faith spread rapidly among the inhal)-
itants of Hermon and southern Lebanon. Shortly
["]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
after ed-Durazy's flight the caHph Hakim mysteri-
ously disappeared. Doubtless he was assassinated;
but the Druses believe that he is miraculously con-
cealed until the appointed day of his final revelation
as the victorious Mahdi.
The peculiar doctrines of the Druses were S3^s-
tematized by a companion of the prophet's exile,
Hamzeh ibn Ahmed, since known as the " Guide."
The tenets of this faith are still, however, only
partly understood by Western scholars ; for its most
important beliefs are kept in great secrecy, none of
the women and only a very small proportion of the
men are initiated into its esoteric teachings, con-
verts to other faiths are practically unknown, and the
Druses hold that, in conversation with a Moslem
or a Christian, it is permissible for them to pretend
acquiescence in the other's statements.
Their extreme emphasis on the unity of God, whom
they divest of all attributes, goes even beyond that
of Mohammedanism. Yet this is accompanied by a
belief in the divine self-revelation through a succes-
sion of incarnations which began with Adam and
ended with the Caliph Hakim and included Jesus
and Mohammed. They also hold the doctrine of
transmigration of souls and think that many of
them will be reincarnated in the heart of China,
where, according to their strange tradition, there
are multitudes of Chinese Druses. They do not
practice the Moslem virtues of prayer, fasting,
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
formal almsgiving and the pilgrimage to Mecca ; but
the few initiates rigorously abstain from both wine
and tobacco.
Probably all that most Druses know about their
religion is that they are Druses. Yet their feeling
of separation from the other inhabitants of the coun-
try, which amounts to a sense of racial difference,
has made them the most proud and independent —
not to say ungovernable — class in the Turkish Em-
pire. The faces of the Druse men are the hand-
somest and haughtiest in Syria, and their forms are
tall and stalwart. They are a brave, intellectual,
courteous, hospitable people ; they treat their wuves
far better than do the Moslems, and in time of war
they never massacre women. Some of the Druse
emirs whom I have met are refined, correctly dressed,
well-educated gentlemen who are as much at home on
the boulevards of Paris as they are among their own
mountains. Yet anything more than a superficial
acquaintance with them is prevented by the suave
hypocrisy which their religion inculcates ; their other-
wise admirable courage is marred by heartless cruelty
and a relentless carrying out of the ancient law of
blood for blood ; and the splendid organization with
which the}'^ meet the aggressions of an alien enemy
is weakened by their interminable intertribal feuds.
The history of the great Druse families of Lebanon
is stained by many an awful record of treachery,
fratricide and massacre.
[13]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
In the summer of 1860, twenty years of inter-
mittent altercations between the Druses and Maro-
nites culminated in an outbreak of fearful religious
warfare. The Druses were perhaps no braver than
their opponents ; but they showed better discipline,
had more able leaders and, from the beginning, were
encouraged by the support of the Moslem govern-
ment. So the war soon developed into a mere suc-
cession of massacres of the unfortunate Maronites.
Turkish officials connived at these outrages, and
Turkish regiments, presumably sent to restore order
in the troubled districts, either disarmed the Chris-
tians and then turned them over to be dealt with by
their enemies, or else themselves added to the horrors
of the slaughter by killing even the women whom the
Druses had spared. Maronite monasteries were
sacked and their monks put to death with barbarous
tortures, a hundred villages were burned, and multi-
tudes of unarmed peasants who had sought protec-
tion in the courtyards of government buildings were
allowed to be shot down by their relentless enemies.
It will never be known just how many Christians were
slain during that awful summer. Seven thousand
are said to have perished in Damascus alone ; and
some conception of the vast number of survivors who
were left homeless and destitute is gained when we
learn that the Anglo-American Relief Committee of
Beirut had upon its lists the names of twenty-seven
thousand refugees.
[14]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
The Christian nations were shocked into activity
by the terrible tidings from Syria. Fifty European
warships soon reached the harbor of Beirut, and an
army of ten thousand French soldiers was landed.
Just in time to avoid foreign intervention, however,
the sultan sent two of his own regiments from Con-
stantinople to quell the disturbance, and shortly aft-
erwards the grand vizier himself came to Syria with
additional troops. These soldiers were but a hand-
ful in comparison with the Druse army or even the
Turkish regiments which had been assisting in the
slaughter; but when the mysterious, unwritten mes-
sages go forth from Constantinople commanding that
a massacre shall be stopped — or shall be begun —
they are understood at once In the most Inaccessible
mountain villages of the empire.
As soon as order was restored, the conscription,
from which holy Damascus had been exempt since the
days of Mohammed, was strictly enforced as a puni-
tive measure ; and over twenty thousand Damascene
Moslems were sent In chains to the coast, whence they
were transported to regiments in distant provinces
of Turkey. Furthermore, a levy of a million dollars
was laid upon the city, and Its governor and a hun-
dred prominent Moslem residents were hanged for
their share In the massacres, as were also a few offi-
cials In other parts of the country. Not a single
Druse, however, was executed for partaking in the
awful slaughter.
£15]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
The European powers now insisted that there
should never be another Moslem ruler over the Chris-
tians of Lebanon, and such pressure was brought to
bear upon the Turkish government that the district
was made a practically independent province. Its
governor must be, like the Maronites, a Latin Chris-
tian, although, in justice to the Druse population,
he may not be an inhabitant of Syria. His appoint-
ment is subject to the approval of the six great pow-
ers and he cannot be removed without the consent
of their ambassadors at Constantinople. The prov-
ince pays no taxes to the imperial government, nor
may Turkish troops be stationed within its bound-
aries except under certain stringent restrictions.
Lebanon has its own army of volunteer militia; and
the free, independent bearing of these mountaineers
is in striking contrast to that of the underpaid, un-
derfed and poorly clothed conscripts of the regular
army.
The rulers appointed under the new regime have
not all been equally capable and honest. Some have
understood the language of baJchsheesh as well as
their Turkish predecessors. Tbe commercial
growth of the province has also been hampered by
the lack of a seaport. Yet since 1861 the moun-
taineers. Druses and Maronites alike, have enjoyed
an unprecedented quiet and an increasing material
prosperity. The old feudal wars have ceased, the
tyrannical political power of the Maronite hierarchy
[i6]
y
^
! 2
7)
^•iJ
5
1^*
O
^
l^^-f
l-i
3
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
is greatly diminished, education is rapidly advancing
and the valuation of property in the Lebanon
district has greatly advanced. In the words of
Lord Dufferin, who was a member of the inter-
national commission which framed the new plan of
government, " until the present day the Lebanon has
been the most peaceful, the most contented and the
most prosperous province of the Ottoman Domin-
ion."
Yet the cruel past has not entirely sunk into ob-
livion. The Maronite village of Deir el-Kamr, for
instance, has still one mosque ; but no Moslem dwells
there, nor dare a Druse pass through this neighbor-
hood where the massacre of unarmed Christians lasted
until more than two thousand corpses lay within the
enclosure of the government-house. On the other
hand, there are Druse hamlets where no Maronite
would trust himself. Ten years ago, when Beirut
was in one of its periodic tumults, five thousand Leb-
anon soldiers, stalwart, brave and well-armed, en-
camped just outside the city limits, waiting for one
more anti-Christian outbreak — which fortunately
did not come — as an excuse for wiping out the Mos-
lem population. Looking across a deep gorge of
Lebanon, I once saw a file of Turkish soldiers labori-
ously making their way up the steep mountainside.
They were seeking a murderer, so I was told, but a
murderer of no common mettle ; for from his inacces-
sible retreat among the cliffs he had sent to the gov-
[17]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
ernment of Beirut a bold acknowledgment of his
crimes, accompanied by the threat that whenever in
the future- a Christian should be assassinated in that
city he would immediately descend to the coast and
take the life of a Moslem in exchange.
On a stormy winter night I sat by the charcoal
fire in a Maronite hut high up among the mountains,
and heard read from a grimy, much-thumbed man-
uscript a long poem which described the brave part
played by that village in the struggles of fifty years
ago. The sonorous Arabic sentences had almost an
Homeric ring. Like the list of Grecian ships
sounded the rhythmic roll of the local heroes of half
a century gone by. And as the dull light of the fire
shone on the circle of dark, bearded mountaineers,
the grim lines of their faces showed that the valor of
the village had not weakened with the passing years,
nor had the wrongs of the village fathers been for-
got.
To the traveler, bewildered by strange customs
and by peculiar waj-s of doing familiar things, this
seems indeed a " Left-hand Land." The Syrian
holds a loose sheet of paper in his palm and writes
from right to left. Yet numbers are written, like
ours, from left to right. In beckoning, the fingers
are turned downward. To nod " No " the head is
jerked upward, and added emphasis is sometimes given
by a sharp cluck of the tongue. The carpenter
£18]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
draws his saw toward lilm on the cutting stroke. The
oarsman Hkcs to stand up and face the bow of his
boat. When digging, one man holds the handle of
the shovel while two others do most of the work by
pulling it with ropes. Except in cities which have
felt European influence, it is the men who wear skirts
or flowing bloomers, and the women who wear trou-
sers. Keys are put into the locks upside down. In
entering a house, the hat is kept on the head, but
the shoes are removed.
Grown men greet one another in public with em-
braces and kisses. You see them walking along hand
in hand, or smelling little nosegays. Yet these acts
are not necessaril}' indicative of eff'eminacy. For all
you know, these same fellows may occupy their lei-
sure moments with highway robbery. The slightest
diff'erence of opinion gives rise to excited vitupera-
tion and off'ensive gesticulation ; but a blow is seldom
given. When a Syrian does smite, he employs no
halfway measures : he smites to kill. I only once saw
a blow struck in anger: then a club four inches thick
was, without warning, brought down with full force
upon the head of an unfortunate boatman.
In this topsy-turvy land, parents take the name
of their first-born son, and use it even in signing
legal papers. The gate-keeper at the American Col-
lege, for instance, was never called anything but Abu
Mohammed, " the Father of Mohammed." When a
son is despaired of, the public humiliation is sorae-
[19]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
times avoided by inventing one. It is quite possible
that Abu Zeki or Abu Said has no children at all.
The daughters of the family are often called after
jewels or flowers or constellations ; yet, except in
Protestant families, the birth of a girl is not an
occasion for rejoicing. One father insisted on chris-
tening an unwelcome girl baby Balash, which might
be translated " Nothing doing ! " Another parent,
who already had six daughters, was so disgusted at
the advent of a seventh that he named her Bikeflfeh,
" Enough ! " A Maronite proverb says, " The
threshold mourns forty days when a girl is born."
Nevertheless the lot of the Christian woman, even in
communities where Christianity means hardly more
than a political organization, is usually far better
than that of her Moslem sisters.
Surnames are very indefinite and shifting matters.
If Musa has a son named Jurjus, the boy will nat-
urally be known as Jurjus Musa. But the father
will, of course, change his own name to Abu Jurjus.
Many surnames are taken from occupations. Had-
dad or " Smith " is here, as in every country, one of
the most common. Others are derived from locali-
ties. Hanna Shweiri is " John from Shweir," and
Suleiman Beiruti is " Beirut Solomon." Real fam-
il}' or clan names, however, are not uncommon, es-
pecially among the aristocra :;y.
As a man becomes more prosperous he will often
[20]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
drop his commonplace appellation in favor of a more
dignified one, which perhaps revives an ancient but
long neglected designation of his family. This easy
putting on and off of names sometimes leads to con-
siderable confusion. I once asked all over a moun-
tain village for the house of a friend whom I had
known in Beirut, and met with the most positive as-
surances that no such person lived there. Fortu-
nately I happened to remember that my friend's fa-
ther was a baker. " John Baker ! Oh, yes, every-
body in town knows him! But that other fellow
you've been asking about — we never heard of him."
The mountain boys, especially, used often to take
new surnames when they came to college. Some-
times they afterward exchanged these for still better
ones. So a facetious professor greeted a returning
student with " Well, Eliya, what is your name this
year.'* " An exasperated inquirer, who had vainly
tried to pin down a certain youth to a satisfactory
statement of his chosen titles, finally exclaimed,
"Now, tell me, what is your name.''" Then came
the maddeningly irritating answer which so fre-
quently tempts the Occidental to commit homicide,
" As you like, sir ! " Another young man, who had
narrowly escaped expulsion for his various misdeeds,
decided to turn over a new leaf; so he came back to
the college the next autumn with a different name —
and made it good. The Syrian understands better
[ai]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
than do we the full content of the divine promise of
" a new name." ^
At first this seems a land of inexplicable contrasts.
I could write of its ravaging pestilences so that
one would find it hard to believe that Syria is
notable for its healthfulness. I could record fearful
massacres until the reader would think me foolishly
daring for never carrying a weapon during all my
travels. I could — quite truthfully — tell how a
Syrian landscape lacks so many of the old familiar
aspects of our home scenes, and give no hint of the
glorious panoramas of this fertile, well-watered,
bright-colored land — where the mountains sit with
their feet in the Great Sea and their heads among the
glorious clouds, while mantles of shimmering silver
fall above their richly tinted garments.
As is the land, so are its people ; not easy to un-
derstand and justly appraise. They are cruel
and cunning and prefer to destroy an enemy by
a sudden rush of overwhelming odds rather than to
meet him in equal combat. Yes, this is true of
many of them; yet they have a childlike delight in
sweet scents, bright colors, beautiful flowers and sim-
ple games. Although they may live in poverty and
squalor, they are very frugal and temperate. They
are ignorant; but when the opportunity comes they
study with a pathetic earnestness and an unrivaled
quickness. At half-past three of cold winter morn-
3 Rev. 2:17, etc.
[22]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
ings I used to hear a servant going the rounds of
my dormitory to waken the young men, at their own
request, so that they might spend four hours before
breakfast at their books. Some of those same inde-
fatigable students have since led their classes in great
American and European universities.
It is true that the Syrians nurse vengeful feuds
for generation after generation. That is partly
because family ties are so wonderfully strong among
them. " I and my brother against my cousin ; I
and my cousin against my neighbor," runs the prov-
erb. When two brothers are in the same class at
school or college, they seldom have other chums, but
insist upon sitting side by side in the classroom,
and during their free hours they wander about the
campus with arms around each other's shoulders.
If an elder brother goes away to make his fortune
in some distant country, he never forgets the loved
ones at home ; but year after year the remittances
will come, until all the younger children have been
educated or bave been brought across the sea to
share in the opportunities of the new land of promise.
A trusted American missionary had at one time in his
possession no less than five thousand dollars which
had been sent from America for the parents and
younger children of a single mountain village.
The ambition of the Syrian is as boundless as his
daring, and his courageous persistence is a buttress
to his splendid capacity for both business and schol-
^[23]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
arship. The son of any laboring man may, for all
one knows, become a high Egyptian official, a wealthy
merchant of the Argentine, a French poet or the
pastor of an American church. The " Arab " drag-
oman of your tourist party may be the proud father
of a boy whose learned works in choicest English
you hope sometime to read, or whose surgical skill
may be called upon to carry you through a critical
operation. These are not fanciful possibilities. I
have particular names in mind as I write ; and the
tale of the bravely endured hardships of some of
these sons of Syria who have made good in many a
far-off land would match the romantic story of the
early stiniggles of Garfield or Lincoln.
The hospitality of the Syrians is no mere form
or pretense, but a sincere, winsome joy in minister-
ing to the poor and the stranger. Their courtesy
is fortified by an invincible tact and a very keen
knowledge of human nature. Their speech, the
strange guttural Arabic which sounds so uncouth to
the passing stranger, is one of the most beautiful,
expressive and widespread of languages, and has a
wealth of fascinating literature. Their religious fa-
naticism is grounded in an intense, unshakable be-
lief in the fact and the necessity of a divine revela-
tion; and he who in the heat of a ferocious bigotry
will kill his neighbor is willing, if need be, to die him-
self for the faith, whether it be in open warfare or by
the tortures of a slow martyrdom.
[24]
THE LEFT-HAND LAND
The native ideals of truthfulness and business honor
are not, to be frank, those of Anglo-Saxon nations.
It is not considered very insulting to call a Syrian a
liar. But even in the Western business world all is
not truth and uprightness, and these men and women
have an excuse which we have not. For centuries
their land has been ruled by a government based
upon untruth and injustice, and very often the
only protection for life or property lay in evasion
and deceit. The wonder is that, in spite of all, there
are still so many Syrians who would swear to their
own hurt and change not, and who boldly urge upon
their people the eradication of what is perhaps their
greatest racial shortcoming.
In brief, with all his faults, which we of the West
are apt to over-emphasize because they are not the
same as our faults, the Syrian is frugal, temperate,
ambitious, adaptable, intellectually brilliant, capa-
ble of infinite self-sacrifice for any great end, essen-
tiall}^ religious, generously hospitable, courteous in
social intercourse and, to his loved ones, extremely
affectionate and faithful.
When to these admirable racial traits is added a
sincere acceptance of the moral teachings of reli-
gion, then, whatever his creed, the Syrian makes a
friend to be cherished very close to your heart.
[25]
A
CHAPTER III
THE CITY OF SATURN
" J^ ND behold, I am now in Beirut." Thus
wrote Prince Rib-addi to his royal mas-
ter, Pharaoh Amenhotep, thirty-three
centuries ago; and when the Tell el-Amama Letters
were sent from Syria to Egypt, about 1400 B. C,
Beirut had long been one of the chief commercial
cities of the eastern Mediterranean. According to
a Greek tradition, it was founded in the Golden Age
by the Titan Kronos, or Saturn, the father of Zeus.
The tutelary deity of the seaport, however, was Po-
seidon (Neptune), another son of Saturn, who is
represented on its coins driving his sea-horses, or
standing on the prow of a ship with his trident in
one hand and a dolphin in the other.
The authentic history of the city begins with
the records of its conquerors. Rameses II. of
Egypt and Sennacherib of Assyria commemorated
their successful Syrian campaigns by inscriptions
still existing on the cliffs of the Dog River, just
north of Beirut. Centuries later, Alexander the
Great marched his conquering army through
the city, Pompey added it to the Roman Em-
[26]
THE CITY OF SATURN
pirc, and Augustus visited here his son-in-law,
the local governor. It was in Beirut that Plerod
the Great appeared as the accuser of his two sons,
who were thereupon convicted of conspiracy and put
to death by strangling. Vespasian passed through
its streets in triumphal progress on his way to as-
sume the imperial crown, and in its immense amphi-
theater Titus celebrated his capture of Jerusalem
by a magnificent series of shows and gladiatorial
contests. During the First Crusade, Baldwin,
Count of Flanders and ruler of the Latin Kingdom
of Jerusalem, wrested the city from the Moslems
after a long siege and put its inhabitants to the
sword. Seventy years later, the greatest of all Sar-
acen leaders, Saladin, recaptured the city from the
Christians. The names of the mighty warriors who
since then have fought for the possession of this old,
old seaport are less familiar to Western readers ; yet
few cities have had for so many centuries such inti-
mate association with the most renowned characters of
history. There is a local tradition that Christ Him-
self visited Beirut on the occasion of His journey
" into the borders of Tyre and Sidon," and during
the Middle Ages there was exhibited here a miracle-
working picture of Him, which was said to have been
painted by Nicodemus the Pharisee.
The inner harbor, still known as Mar Jurjus or
" St. George," is associated with what is perhaps the
oldest of all myths. This took on varying forms
[27]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
during the millenniums of its progress westward
from the Euphrates to the Atlantic. We find it
first in the Babylonian Creation Epic, which tells of
the destruction of the chaos-monster by the solar
deity, Marduk. When the Greeks took over the an-
cient Asiatic mythology, it was Perseus, child of the
sun-god, who slew the dragon at Jaffa and released
the beautiful Andromeda. In the sixth century
A. D., the exploit was transferred to St. George,
whose victory over the sea-monster was perhaps an
unconscious parable of the overthrow of heathenism
by Christianity.
St. George appears to have been a real person,
who suffered martyrdom about the year 300, pos-
sibly at Lydda in Palestine, where his tomb is still
shown. Singularly enough, this Syrian Christian
has not only been the patron saint of England since
Richard CcBur de Lion came to the Holy Land on the
Third Crusade, but is also a very popular hero of the
Moslems.
The historic character had, of course, nothing to
do with any dragon, and it was only many centuries
after his death that he became identified with the hero
of the ancient Semitic myth, under its Perseus form.
A mighty monster, so the story runs, had long terri-
fied the district of Beirut, and was prevented from
destroying the city only by receiving the annual sac-
rifice of a beautiful virgin. One year the fateful
lot fell upon the daughter of the governor. When
[28]
THE CITY OF SATURN
the poor girl was taken to the appointed place, she
knelt in prayer and besought God to send her a de-
liverer. Whereupon St. George appeared in shining
armor and, after a tremendous battle, slew the mon-
ster, delivered the maiden, and freed the city from its
long reign of terror. Whether, like his prototype
Perseus, he married the rescued virgin, the story
does not relate. We are told, however, that the
grateful father built a church in honor of the val-
iant champion and also instituted a yearly feast in
commemoration of his daughter's deliverance. Dur-
ing the Middle Ages, this was celebrated by Chris-
tians and Moslems alike. Beside the Dog River can
still be seen the ruins of an ancient church and a
mosque, both of which marked the supposed locality
of the contest ; and here also is a ver}"^ old well, into
which the body of the slain dragon is said to have
been thrown.
The word Beirut is doubtless derived from the an-
cient Semitic place-name Beeroth,^ which means,
" wells," and throughout the Arab world such a des-
ignation immediately calls up a picture of fertile
prosperity. The triangular cape on whose northern
shore the city is situated projects from the foot of
Lebanon five miles into the Mediterranean and has
an area of about sixteen square miles. This level
broadening of the coastal plain appears in striking
contrast to the country just north and south of it,
iCf. Deut. 10:6, Josh. 9:17.
[29]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
where there is often hardly room for a bridle-path
between the cliffs and the sea. Beirut itself has a
population of nearly 200,000, and within sight are
many scores of flourishing villages. Indeed, with
the possible exception of Damascus and its environs,
this is the most densely populated, intensely culti-
vated and prosperous district in either Syria or Pal-
estine.
The southwest side of the cape is bordered by
great piles of sand, which is said to have been brought
hither by wind and tide all the way from Egypt.
Perhaps it did not travel so far as that; but after
every heavy rain a yellow stream runs northward
through the Mediterranean close to the shore and de-
posits its sediment when it strikes the edge of the
cape. The rapid shifting of these sand dunes under
the influence of the prevailing west winds is a con-
tinual menace to the city, and the surrounding or-
chards would soon be overwhelmed if it were not for
a series of closely-planted pine groves which, since
the iSrst trees were set out here in the seventeenth
century by the Druse prince Fakhreddin, have
served as a barrier against the inroads of the wind-
swept sand.
Back of the dark line of protecting pines, millions
upon millions of olive trees appear as one great mass
of shimmering green. When Ibrahim Pasha, the
Egyptian conqueror of Syria, looked down from Leb-
anon upon the countrv about Beirut, he exclaimed
THE CITY OF SATURN
that three seas lay beneath him; the blue Mediter-
ranean, the yellow waste of sand and the silvery sur-
face of the olive forest which floods the fertile plain.
Near the lighthouse on the point, where perpen-
dicular cliffs rise two hundred feet out of the ^ledi-
terranean, the storm waves have cut a number of
lofty caverns. The water in most of these is so
filled with fallen rocks that, except when the sea is
absolutely calm, it is unsafe to take a boat into them ;
but the series of deep, gloomy caves is a challenge
to the swimmer. Beneath the surface of the crystal
water can be seen huge boulders covered with bril-
liant sea-anemones and sharp-spined sea-urchins.
From the liquid pavement the roof arches up into
the darkness like the nave of an old cathedral,
or like some ruined palace of Neptune. Occa-
sional ledges provide convenient resting-places where
one can sit and watch the pigeons flying in and out,
or listen to the twitter of the swallows and the chat-
ter of the frightened bats. The caves sometimes
harbor larger denizens than these. More than once,
when swimming before them, I have been startled to
see the dog-like head of a seal appear in the water
close beside me.
Slanting up into the walls of these caverns are
narrow tunnels where the softer rock has been worn
away by the seeping of the surface water from
above. If one cares to risk losing a little skin from
the elbows and knees, it is possible to climb many
[31]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
yards up these steep, slippery shafts. One day,
while walking along the top of the cliff, I came upon
the upper end of a natural chimney whose formation
appeared so unusually regular that I became curious
to see what it might lead to. So I slid down twelve
or fifteen feet and dropped into the ashes of a recent
fire which had been built in the center of a cozy little
cave high above the water. The rocky point of the
cape, honeycombed with dark passages and secret
hiding-places, is a favorite resort of smugglers, espe-
cially on moonless nights ; and in the bazaars of the
city you can buy many articles which have not been
submitted to the extortions of the Turkish custom-
house. While I was a resident of Beirut, the " king
of the smugglers," who lived near me, killed three rev-
enue officers who were interfering with his illicit
trade. Bribery and intimidation, however, soon re-
moved all danger of prosecution for his various
•crimes ; and a few days later I saw him driving
defiantly along the Shore Road in his elegant car-
riage.
Beirut has suffered so severely from earthquakes,
as well as from besieging armies, that there remain
no traces of very old buildings except some columns
of reddish Egyptian granite. Only a few of these
can now be seen above ground or lying under water
at the bottom of the harbor, where doubtless they
were rolled by earthquake shocks ; but from the fre-
quency with which they appear whenever excava-
[32]
THE CITY OF SATURN
tions are made, there must be a multitude of them
scattered all over the site of the ancient city.
Among the mountains just back of the cape are
the ruins of a Roman aqueduct, which supplied the
city from a spring in the valley of the Beirut River,
six miles away. The ravine was bridged by a series
of six arches, arranged in four tiers. The lowest of
these had two spans ; the highest had twenty-five, and
rose a hundred and sixty feet above the river-bed.
On the west bank, the water was carried through a
tunnel cut in the soHd rock of the mountainside.
This opening is now filled with fallen stones, and of
the aqueduct itself there remain only a few broken
arches at the eastern end ; yet the massive ruin, rising
high above the river amid these desolate, lonely sur-
roundings, still suggests the wealth and enterprise
of the centuries long gone by.
During the last forty years Beirut has been abun-
dantly provided with water piped from the Dog River
by an English company. So pure is this supply that
since its use became common the city has not known
a single outbreak of cholera or plague, though the
surrounding country has often been devastated by
these diseases. One memorable year we watched a
fearful epidemic creep up the coast toward us, curve
inland round the edge of the district supplied with
Dog River water, and then sweep back again to the
seashore and continue its terrible journey northward.
The Dog River was in ancient times known as the
[33]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Lycus or " Wolf " River. It is said to have received
its present name from a marvelous statue of a dog
set above the cliffs, which opened its stone mouth and
barked lustily at the approach of a hostile ship. In-
deed, to this very day a vivid imagination can dis-
cern the likeness of a huge mastiff in a certain boul-
der, now submerged in the center of the stream.
The pass up its rocky gorge has been trod by
many a great army. The well-preserved bridge
which now spans the stream was built by the sultan
Selim four hundred years ago; but a Latin inscrip-
tion on the cliff indicates that a military road was
constructed here by Marcus Aurelius as early as
the second century, and on the sheer rocks at the
left bank of the river are cut panels whose records
far antedate the days of Roman supremacy.
Ashur-nasir-pal, Shalmaneser, Tiglath-pileser, Sen-
nacherib, Esarhaddon, Rameses — such are the
strange sounding names given to the forms in bas-
relief which still lift above the rushing stream the
scepters of their long-vanished power. The boast-
ings of Greek and Arabic conquerors are also found
along this path of ancient armies and — what seems
in such surroundings a weak anti-climax — upon a
panel which originally bore one of the Egyptian in-
scriptions now appears the record of the French ex-
pedition of 1860.
Four miles from the mouth of the Dog River, its
principal tributary bursts from a cave which extends
[34]
THE CITY OF SATURN
far into the heart of Lebanon. Within this are
found stalactites of every shape and color, natural
columns as large and almost as symmetrical as those
of the Parthenon, enormous cathedral-like chambers,
labyrinthine passages without number, deep icy
pools, and cascades whose dull thunder reverberates
through the dark depths of the mountain. With the
aid of portable rafts, adventurous explorers have
penetrated this wonderful cavern for nearly a mile;
but at that distance there was no diminution of the
volume of the stream or any other indication that
they had come at all near to the source of the mys-
terious underground river. The light of their
torches but dimly revealed the roaring torrent cease-
lessly speeding out from dark, distant channels like
those
" ^\^lere Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
Although the Bay of Beirut opens to the Mediter-
ranean at an obtuse angle, it is so well protected from
storms by the long cape that it provides the safest
anchorage between Port Said and Smyrna. I re-
member only one tempest which blew so strongly that
anchors could not hold and steamers had to leave the
port for the open sea. The harbor is crowded with
shipping of all sizes and shapes, from the little coast-
wise barks and the queer, low Egyptian boats with
[35]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
their one triangular sail to the great transatlantic
liners which bring multitudes of tourists on cruises
to the Holy Land. About four thousand merchant
vessels clear the port annually. Since the dawn of
history, Damascus has sent its exports hither by the
ancient caravan road. For the past eighteen years
there has been a railway across the mountains, and
its recently completed branch to Aleppo will doubt-
less attract more and more of the trade of northern
Syria.
The exports from Beirut amount each year to over
$4,000,000. About one-third of this value is made
up of raw silk; other important commodities are
olive oil, licorice and fruit. The character of the
chief imports is determined by the fact that the
mountains are almost denuded of large forest trees.
Immense quantities of timber, metal girders, fire-
wood and petroleum must therefore be brought from
abroad. The dependence of S3''ria upon other
countries for the materials used in modern construc-
tion was illustrated in the building of the American
Girls' School in Beirut. The lumber came from
Maine, the doors and windows from Massachusetts,
the desks and chairs from New York, the clay tiles
from France, the zinc roof of the cupola from Eng-
land, and the glass from Austria.
The cream-colored sandstone for this and a multi-
tude of other structures was, however, quarried near
Beirut. The stone makes a fine building material,
[36]
THE CITY OF SATURN
as it is easily worked, attractive in appearance and
very durable. But unfortunately it is at first quite
porous, and newly-erected houses are dangerously
damp until the rains of two or three winters have, on
their way through the walls, first dissolved a certain
amount of the stone and then deposited it in the in-
terstices. So the Syrian proverb says, " When you
build a house, rent it the first year to your enemy,
the second year to your friend, and the third year
move into it yourself."
The traveler who journeys to Beirut from the
west is naturally impressed by its scenes of Oriental
life ; but to one who has come hither from Lebanon
or Damascus or even from Jerusalem, it seems al-
most a European city. Here is a French gas com-
pany, an English waterworks, a German hospital and
an American college ; here are post and telegraph of-
fices, a harbor filled with shipping, and the terminus
of a busy railway system. Four lines of electric
tram-cars furnish quick transportation through the
main streets to the attractive suburbs, and man}' of
the wealthier residents possess automobiles. A score
of printing-presses are at work and daily newspa-
pers are sold by shouting newsboys. There are a
dozen good hotels ; and well-equipped stores, run on
European lines, are rapidly crowding out the tiny
shops of the typical Oriental merchant. Gaudy bill-
boards extol the virtues of French cosmetics, English
insurance companies and American sewing machines,
[37]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
phonographs and shoes, or announce the subjects of
the moving-picture dramas for the coming week.
Carriages throng the principal thoroughfares, the
better class of citizens wear European costumes, and
no passenger-steamship drops anchor in the harbor
without being met by the red-shirted boatmen and
suave interpreters of the enterprising tourist-agen-
cies.
To the casual visitor, Beirut seems therefore a very
peaceable, matter-of-fact place. He does not expe-
rience the feeling of half-confessed uneasiness which
marked his strolls through the native quarters of
other Oriental cities. Yet the busy every-day life
of the seaport moves upon the thin crust of a seething
volcano of hate, which all too often breaks out into
murderous rage.
The Moslem inhabitants are, of course, backed
by all the power of the government, legal and illegal ;
but they are much inferior in numbers and in wealth
to the Christian population. Religious jealousy is
therefore never far from the boiling-point. Any in-
sult or violence offered b}" an adherent of the one
faith to a believer in the other is the signal for a long
series of reprisals and counter-reprisals, and there is
always the possibility that these may culminate in
general rioting and massacre.
The morning I first landed In Beirut, the Christian
watchman of the American Press was found almost
literally cut in pieces. The assassin was absolutely
[38]
THE CITY OF SATURN
identified by the print of his bare foot in a mass of
soft mortar ; but, being a Moslem, the authorities
quickly released him and, without any evidence what-
ever, arrested a near relative of the dead man. The
poor fellow had a perfect alibi, yet he was kept in
prison until the family signified their willingness to
have the police department refrain from any further
investigation of the murder. This is a favorite
method of procedure when a Moslem is guilty of a
crime against a Christian.
It used to be a rare week that we heard of no as-
sassinations, and a rarer year that knew no general
rioting. One winter there was a murder each night
for six weeks. Christians and Moslems being killed
alternately. So regular was the succession of repris-
als that a friend whom I had invited to make an
evening visit with me postponed the trip on the
ground that " this is the night for a Christian to be
killed." Frequent rumors would reach us of impend-
ing invasions of the Christian Quarter by Moslem
mobs, and more than once the portentous war-cry
of Din! Din Mohainmed! —" The Faith! The Faith
of Mohammed!" — rang in the ears of the terrified
Christians. The morning I ended my residence in
Beirut it was a prominent Moslem who was assassi-
nated at the door of his own home. A few days aft-
erwards, murderous mobs swept through the city
chanting, " Oh, how sweet; oh, how joyful to cut the
Christians' throats ! " The empty cai-tridges picked
[39]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
up after the slaughter were of the make imported
exclusively for the use of the Turkish soldiers at the
government barracks.
The undying religious hatred and frequent vio-
lence do not, however, endanger the lives of European
or American residents, and probably never will do so
unless some insane mob should get quite beyond the
control of its leaders. Islam has learned the power
of foreign warships. It should also be added that
the native Protestants are hardly ever molested, save
by accident, during these internecine conflicts ; for
the Moslems realize that this portion of the popula-
tion never takes any part in religious strife. Even
in the terrible summer of I860, when all Syria was
drenched with blood, only nine Protestants were
killed.
During the past few months there has developed a
new and unexpected phase of Beirut strife. Since
the revolution of tlie Young Turks, a vigorous de-
mand for political righteousness and even-handed jus-
tice has, in spite of all set-backs, been growing stead-
ily among every race and faith of the empire. In
Syria the new ideals and hopes found expression in
the organization of a " Committee of Reform," which
demanded such elemental rights as the appointment
of an Arabic-speaking governor of Beirut and the use
of the vernacular in the courts of justice. Up to the
present time, the governor has always been a Turk,
and Turkish judges have understood the language of
[40]
THE CITY OF SATURN
fcribery better than the Arabic pleas of poor men
who appeared before them.
Last spring the differences between the people of
Beirut and the government became so acute that the
city was put under martial law by the pasha, who
also issued a proclamation dissolving the local branch
of the Reform Committee and forbidding further
gatherings of the citizens or discussion in the public
press. Every newspaper of the city protested
against these despotic acts by printing an issue
which was absolutely blank, save that in the center
of the first page there appeared the odious procla-
mation. Since then the governor has been recalled
and, on the surface, the city is more quiet. But the
startling, unhoped-for feature of this latest contest
is that — for tlie first time in the sanguinary history
of Beirut — Moslems and Christians and Jews have
for the moment put aside their ancient feuds, that
they might present a united front to the aggressions
of tlic tyrannical local government. Tliis spirit
of union, even more than the desire for political re-
form which gave it birth, promises a new era of peace
and prosperity for the most progressive city of beau-
tiful, blood-stained Syria.
As has been said, however, the ordinary traveler
sees no evidences of strife in the streets of Beirut.
The largest and most conspicuous class of people
whom he meets are not assassins or revolutionists,
but students. This is no new thing, for the city has
[41]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
long been famous as a seat of learning. From the
third to the sixth centuries A. D., its law school was
the greatest in the Roman Empire, excelling even
that of the capital and numbering its students by
the thousand. One of the three commissioners who
prepared the Institutes of Justinian was Professor
Dorotheus of Beirut. In the early Saracen centu-
ries, also, the city attained much scholarly fame and
sent forth many of the foremost authorities on Mos-
lem law and doctrine.
At the present day it is the greatest educational
center in the Near East. Besides the schools main-
tained by each of the native churches and the mosque-
schools and government academies, and institutions
supported — presumably for political reasons —
by Italy and Russia, there are schools or colleges of
the French Sisters of Charity, Sisters of the Holy
Family, Ladies of Nazareth, Lazarists, Franciscans,
Capuchins and Jesuits, the German Deaconesses of
Kaiserswerth, the British Syrian Mission, the
Church of Scotland Mission to the Jews, and the
American Presbyterian Mission, not to mention a
number of others which have been organized by pri-
vate individuals of missionary and philanthropic
spirit. The total number of students who are being
educated along modern lines is over twenty thousand.
Yet in this city of schools and colleges, if the
stranger tells his coachman to drive to el-Kvlliyet —
" the College " — he will be taken without question to
[42]
THE CITY OF SATURN
an institution which is incorporated under the laws
of the State of New York ; and a short visit here will
show why this is acknowledged to be the college of
Beirut. Upon a beautifully situated campus of fifty
acres, twenty imposing stone buildings house the
seven departments of Avhat is really a large, well-
equipped university of eighty instructors and nearly
a thousand students, with observatory and library
and scientific laboratories and hospitals, as well as
literary, dramatic, musical and scientific societies
and its own printing-press and monthly magazine.
Many important things are being learned and done
at the Syrian Protestant College ; but what strikes the
observant visitor as most admirable of all is the spirit
of the institution, a spirit of thoroughness and man-
liness and loyal fraternity and encouraging opti-
mism. More than anything else in Beirut — yes,
more than anything else in western Asia — the " S.
P. C," as its students and alumni call it, stands for
the best gifts of Western civilization and for a new
hope which, lighted first in beautiful Syria, is al-
ready beginning to shine on many a land far out of
sight of heavenward-reaching Lebanon.
[43]
CHAPTER IV
THE SPIRIT OF OL.YMPIA
MOUNT LEBANON looks to-day upon such a
contest as it has never seen before. Yet
Syria has witnessed many struggles. From
the time men first began to fight, this land has hardly
had opportunity to learn what peace and quiet mean.
There are people on the campus of the American
College this afternoon who can remember when the
slopes of the mountain ran with blood ; some of the
best sprinters know what it is to flee for their lives,
and even this week there has been killing on the
streets of Beirut.
The contest to-day, however, is a new thing under
the Syrian sun. It is not the first time that athletic
games have been held — there was a field-day as far
back as 1898 — but this time the preparations have
been of an unusual character. During the whole
week, men have been busy rolling and marking the
track and removing every stick and pebble from the
football field. The classrooms have been emptied of
all their chairs and benches, and the faculty commit-
tee has erected four grand stands, seating over a
thousand people. These will not begin to accommo-
[44]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
date all the spectators, however, and students living
in dormitories that front on the athletic field find that
they have suddenly become very popular among the
ladies of the city.
The football teams have ordered sweaters and shin-
guards from England, and the Beii-ut tailors have
been puzzling their brains over queerly shaped gar-
ments for the sprinters. The medals on exhibition
in the college library were struck in Boston espe-
cially for this occasion, and bear on their faces the
college emblem, a cedar of Lebanon. Besides the
prizes for each event, the American consul will give
a gold medal to the champion all-round athlete.
Best of all, the governor of Lebanon has promised to
attend and has sent his famous military band to
provide the afternoon's music. When to these vari-
ous good things is added the glory of a Syrian spring-
time, and a campus set high on a bluff overlooking
the blue Mediterranean, with ]Mount Le})anon rais-
ing Its snow-capped summits high in the background,
It Is an occasion and a setting to quicken the slowest
pulse.
To-day Is so full of excitement, however, that no-
body thinks vcr}^ much of anything outside the ath-
letic field. The governor's band has come early,
with all kinds of Instruments, especially those which
make a very loud noise. A tent has been erected for
them in the center of the field, and over the tent is a
little American flag. 'I'he East is always so incom-
[45]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
prehensible and contradictory that it occasions no
particular surprise that a Syrian mihtary band
should be playing Sousa marches under the American
colors.
But it looks as if we had at last succeeded in mak-
ing the East hustle a little. All Beirut seems to be
crowding into the campus. It is almost a part of
his religion for an Oriental never to do anything on
time ; yet the grand stands are already full, and the
soldiers stationed at the gate-house can hardly hold
the crowds back long enough for the porter to col-
lect their tickets. The scene is dazzling, dizzying,
bewildering, like Coney Island and the Derby and the
Yale-Princeton game all jumbled together.
There must be at least five thousand strangers on
the college grounds, and every color of the spectrum
is here, especially the very brilliant ones. The mili-
tary band, with their blue uniforms and red fezes,
seem almost shabby and dull in comparison with the
more garish coloring all around them. The seats are
mostly filled with women, whose showy dresses are
hideous individually and beautiful as part of the gen-
eral color scheme. INIoslem harems are here with
their weird veils, and there are many pretty Levan-
tines in rich, inappropriate silks and satins. In
Syria, however, the ladies do not monopolize the
bright garments. Handsome young Turkish officers
swagger along under yards of gold lace, merchants
from the city are wearing their best and baggiest
[46]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
satin trousers and embroidered waistcoats and broad
silk sashes, while the sons of Egyptian millionaires
sport the elegantly fitting coats and tinted vests
which now form the favorite costume of the streets
of Cairo. The color spreads over the field and up
the grand stands, with bright splashes along the sides
of the dormitories. Long strips of red and white
bunting flaunt the college colors ; American and Brit-
ish and Greek and Turkish flags wave above, and the
students' windows are decorated with their national
emblems or class banners.
Early in the afternoon an American tutor, while
ushering the women of a Moslem harem across the
campus, suggested, in rather labored Arabic, that
they pass around the back of one of the dormitories
so as to avoid the crowd. Imagine his surprise and
consternation when one of the ladies replied, " No,
thank you ; I'd rather go around in front " — and
said it in perfect English, with just a suspicion of
a Yankee twang! Who was hidden behind that
black veil.? What foolish, tragic venture had
brought it about that an American girl should dwell
behind the latticed windows of a Moslem seraglio?
But the students have no intention of being ob-
scured by their guests. They are out a thousand
strong, with their best clothes and their loudest
voices. They represent every race and tongue and
faith of the Near East, with here and there a stranger
from Europe or South America. At first thought,
[47]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
it seems as though they could never be amalgamated,
even for an afternoon. Here, for example, are a
dozen names, representing as many nationalities ;
Hafiz Abd-ul-Malik, Neshan Hamyartsumian, Ah-
med Zeki, Basileios Theodoropolous, Tahir Huseini,
Carlos d'Oliveira, Aldo Villa, Mordecai Elstein, Em-
manuel Mattsson, Joseph Miklasievicz, Eugene
Faure, Emile Kirehner. As to religion, they are
Moslems, Jews, Druses, Babites, and Christians of
every sect. Some of the languages they speak are
Arabic, Turkish, Armenian, Chaldean, Persian,
Greek, Yiddish, English, Swedish, Bulgarian, Abys-
sinian, Italian, Gennan, French, Portuguese, Span-
ish, Polish and Russian. As to geographical distri-
bution, they come from the Balkans in the north and
from Baghdad, forty days' journey to the east; from
a thousand miles up the Nile, and from New York
and Brazil in the west.
Probably no other institution in the world includes
such a mixture of antagonistic peoples and religions,
and, until quite recently, the members of each of the
more largely represented races kept closely together.
It used to be seldom that a Jew, for instance, asso-
ciated with an Armenian outside of class hours. In
the evenings the Greek students would gather in one
another's rooms, or march around the campus arm
in arm, singing their national songs. The Egyp-
tians, most of whom were of very wealthy families,
promenaded together, discussing the fleshpots of
[48]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
Cairo. Even among the Syrians, who have ahvays
formed the majority of the student body, there were
lines of division between the men from Tripoli in the
north and from Sidon or Jedeideh in the south. If
these groups are considered as being separated by
latitudinal Hnes, there were also the longitudinal di-
visions between Christian and Moslem and Jew ; and
sometimes long-cherished feuds broke into flame and
pitched battles took place on the campus.
Not the least benefit arising from the introduction
of American athletic sports has been a weakening of
these ancient racial and religious barriers. The an-
tagonisms still exist, strong and danger-breeding;
but there has been a large advance made toward a
more catholic college spirit. It would not be true
to say that athletics has been the only cause, or even
the chief cause of this change; for by precept and
example, by religious instruction and social inter-
course, the faculty are continually molding the char-
acters of these young men. Yet it is true that in
the case of more than one recalcitrant student whom
no other influence seemed able to touch, the latent
manliness has been brought out through his newly
awakened interest in sports.
Most Orientals are very averse to physical exer-
cise. Their traditional idea of enjoyment is to sit
under an awning, drinking coffee and playing back-
gammon. That a man should go out and run
around a track in shameless nakedness, and this
[49]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
with no hope of gain, only strengthens their conclu-
sion that all Franks are mad. The Syrians are an
imitative people, however, and some years ago the in-
fluence of the younger instructors tempted a few
of the preparatory boys out for foot-races. But
you cannot run a hundred-3'ard dash with long,
baggy trousers and a silk robe which flops about
your ankles. Even if you " gird up the loins " by
tucking your skirts into your sash, the effect is more
startling than speedy. Soon, one by one, the stu-
dents ordered trousers from the city tailors. At
first these garments were poorly cut and viewed with
suspicion ; but to-day there are hardly three men in
the academic and graduate departments who wear
the native costume outside of their rooms, and many
of the students dress with an elegance that their pro-
fessors cannot aff'ord to emulate.
It was football, however, that did the most toward
unification of the heterogeneous student body. The
value of team-work is a comparatively new idea to
western Asia and eastern Europe. Since the days of
Alcibiades and Absalom the old ideal has been that
of " every man for himself." If it had not been so,
the history of the world might have been different.
It was comparatively easy to understand the joy of
winning a foot-race or a tennis tournament ; but to
play an untheatrical part in a match, obeying the
captain and working for the good of the team —
that was a very different thing. The students al-
[50]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
ways play the association game, and it used to be
the ambition of every youth to get the ball, and carry
it down the field all by himself, while the audience
cheered, " Bravo, bravo ! " So the faculty arranged
matches with the crews of visiting Bntish warships,
and from sad experience the college learned the value
of side plays and frequent passes, and began to see
dimly that good football is played, not with the legs
and mouth alone, but with the head, and that hard
team-work is better than grand stand exploits.^
That lesson may some day change the map of
Asia.
The physical director of the college now has under
his charge no fewer than eighteen football teams,
besides twelve basketball teams, six hockey teams,
four baseball teams and a cross-country running club ;
thirty men play at cricket regularl}^ forty-seven
hold certificates or medals of the (British) Royal
Life Saving Society, and there are a hundred and
thirty-five entries for to-day's field and track events.^
It makes one homesick to hear the cheers. With
the exception of an occasional " meet " with some
mission school, like those at Jerusalem and Sidon,
there is no opportunity to compete with rival institu-
1 In 1913, the college team defeated the champions of the
British Mediterranean Fleet.
2 The above figures are for the current year, 1913. With
this exception, however, the chapter is not in any sense a com-
posite, but describes the happenings of one actual field-day
held during the author's residence in Beirut.
[51]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
tions. Indeed, there is no other college in the Near
East which would have any chance of winning in com-
petition with the " S. P. C." So the enthusiasm finds
a vent in cheering for the various schools of the uni-
versity and for the class champions. Three of the de-
partments — the preparatory, academic and medical
— are each as large as many an American col-
lege. The competition among these runs very high,
and to-day a banner is to be given to the one whose
members shall score most points. Now the various
department " yells " have stopped for a moment, and
an upper classman starts the college cheer, just as
inane to read and just as soul-stirring to hear as are
those of Harvard or Yale or Princeton. There is a
good deal of singing, too. The college song, like
that of Cornell, is set to the tune of " Annie Lisle,"
but the words are full of local allusions —
" Far, far above the waters
Of the deep blue sea,
Lies the campus of the college
Where we love to be.
" Far away, behold Keneiseh !
Far beyond, Sunnin !
Rising hoary to the heavens.
Clad in glorious sheen."
Suddenly an usher comes running from the gate-
house with the news that the governor's carriage is
in sight. It can hardly be true, however ; for it still
[52]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
lacks a few minutes of two o'clock, and it would be
contrary to Syrian custom for an official of such
exalted rank to arrive at the same time with ordinary
people. Probably he will come at about three
o'clock, and stay a half hour or so, just to assure the
college of his good-will. Indeed, this will be the first
time that a governor has even put in an appearance
at the annual games. But, after all, the usher is
right. The pasha is coming — three minutes ahead
of time ! There is hardly a consul on the dignitaries'
platform ; even the American representative has not
arrived yet, and there would be no one properly to
welcome the governor, if the president of the college
did not throw dignity to the winds and sprint across
the campus to meet him.
The escort rides in at a slow canter, with sabers
glistening and accouterments clattering. First
come young officers, handsome and foppish, their bos-
oms heavy with gold lace and medals, and their Arab
stallions snorting and prancing; then follows the
guard of grizzled, sunburned Lebanon soldiers,
clothed in blue Zo lave uniforms and holding repeat-
ing-rifles across the pommels of their saddles. Be-
hind the soldiers are carriages containing the mem-
bers of the staff and their ladies ; and last of all, at-
tended by out-riders, the carriage of his excellency.
The pasha is a thin little old man with a gray beard
and shrewd, tired eyes ; and, in striking contrast to
his gayly caparisoned escort, he is quietly dressed in
[53]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
a dark business suit. He is a Pole by birth, a Roman
Catholic by religion, a Turkish soldier by profession,
and a gentleman by instinct and breeding. A son of
the governor is also here. He is an attache of the
Turkish embassy at Paris, and one would take him
for a cultured Frenchman. The wife of the attache
is a young American woman, a member of one of our
best-known and wealthiest New York families.
Among the other guests in the seats of honor are a
Greek priest, a Moslem rnollah and a Druse emir.
The senior missionary is telling the professor of
philosophy how Yale used to plaj^ football back in
the fifties, while the lady of the German consul is
talking babies to the senior missionary's wife. The
Welsh doctor, who used to live in Brazil, is talking
French to the Italian professor from Cairo. The
exporter of Damascus rugs is swapping Dakota sto-
ries with the Syrian editor who took the Arab troupe
to the Chicago Exposition.
And in the middle of the field the official announcer
is lifting up a megaphone to shout across the babel
of tongues . —
" Winner of the dromedary race, Saladin ; second,
Haroun al Raschid; third, Sinbad. The next event
will be the high jump on enchanted carpets!"
At least, that is what one would expect to hear
amid this brilliant theatrical setting. But instead
the call comes in faultless English —
" All out for the hundred-yard dash ! "
t54l
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
In the finals of this race there are four men; a
Greek, an Egyptian and two Syrians. Khalil Mes-
haqah, of the medical school, wins in ten and two-
fifth seconds, without spikes, and on a dirt track ^
without guiding ropes. The college is not ashamed
of its athletic records. Among its prize winners this
afternoon are the best jumper of the Island of Cy-
prus, the champion swummer of Alexandria, and the
Greek who won the hundred-meter race in the recent
Pan-Hellenic Games at Athens. On the first few
field-days the Greeks carried everything before them ;
indeed, on one occasion three Greeks from Cyprus
made more points than all the other students com-
bined. Now, however, after only a few years of
training, some splendid athletes are being developed
among the Syrians, Armenians and Egyptians. Of
the six men who win most points to-day, four are
Syrians, one is a Greek and one is a Scotchman.
The announcer comes out again into the center of
the field and shouts through his megaphone, first
in English and then in Arabic —
" The discus has just been thrown one hundred
and ten feet, breaking the college record ! "
So the campus bursts into a new uproar of shout-
ing and singing, and the students make quite un-
necessary inquiries as to " What's the matter with
McLaughlan ? " while somebody tries to explain
3 Since this record was made, a new athletic field with a
cinder track has been laid out adjoining the campus.
[55]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
what it is all about to the Turkish goA^ernor, who
understands neither English nor Arabic, and the
governor's daughter-in-law looks as if she were think-
ing of Travers Island.
It would take too long to describe all the events
of the day : how Nedrah Meshaqah wins the thousand-
yard " campus race," how latrou keeps the shot-
put in the Greek ranks, or how Bedr breaks the
record for the high jump. The real significance of
the occasion is that it is all so like the field-meets of
our American colleges at home.
The only typically Syrian event is the jareed-
throw — and the javelin has since been included
among American field-events. The jareed is a blunt
dart about four feet long and an inch in diameter,
and it is always thrown underhand. The Arabs
use it in various games, somewhat as the old Greeks
employed the javelin. At the college it is thrown
for distance ; and this is one of the most interesting
contests, as it requires not only strength and quick-
ness but a peculiar knack which it is almost impos-
sible for a foreigner to learn. It looks very easy
to one who has tossed baseballs all his life ; yet when
the American first attempts to throw the short, light
stick, he sends it whirling around like a windmill.
But watch that young Druse sheikh, as he carefully
balances the jareed upon his finger, and then grasps
it gently but firmly at the approved spot. A few
slow swings of the arm to get the direction, a
[56]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
lean backward until the stick nearly touches the
ground behind, then a jump forward and a throw
so long that his hand moves fully nine feet in a
straight line before it lets the missile go with a furi-
ous rifling motion — and the j areed darts up and
off with a queer little nervous twist like an angry
snake, and drops nearly two hundred feet away, with
a force that would have broken a man's skull.
It is a proud moment for thirty Eastern athletes
when they step up to the platform where the gov-
ernor and his staff are sitting, and receive their med-
als from the Norwegian wife of the American consul
and the American daughter-in-law of the Turkish
pasha. Everything is over now except the football
game, and the governor has stayed through it all,
thus giving a most signal mark of his interest and ap-
proval. He indicates his wish to retire, and the
crowd gives way for his escort. The carriages drive
up to the grand stand with much snapping of whips,
and the outriders prance gayly around on their rest-
ive Arabs. But just then the football teams run out
into the field, resplendent in their new uniforms ; and
the governor repents of his decision to leave, sinks
back into his seat and motions the carriages to drive
away.
The captain of the medical team is a great, bearded
Syrian, six feet tall. The captain of the collegiate
eleven is two inches taller, also a Syrian in name and
very proud of his country and race, but with a sense
[57]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
of humor and a knowledge of team-work which he
probably inherited from his American mother. One
of the full-backs is a very sturdy fellow who was
born in Cypinis of a French mother and speaks Greek
as his native tongue; but there is a canny twinkle in
his eye and a burr in his speech which make it seem
quite natural that liis name should begin with " Mac."
Many brilliant plays are made by the son of an
Egyptian millionaire, the Druse sheikh who won the
jareed throw, and an American from Jerusalem.
The collegiate eleven is composed of four Syrians,
three Egyptians, an Armenian, a Scotchman, an
American and an Austrian; but racial and religious
differences are forgotten as they play together for
the honor of their side. It is a hard game, yet a very
fair one, and when the " Medics " win by a score of
two goals to one, even the college men lustily cheer
the victors.
As the gay-colored crowd breaks over the field, his
fellow-students seize the captain of the winning
team and carry him around on their shoulders, sing-
ing and shouting all the while. Medical banners
wave, medical hats and fezes are thrown into the air
and medical men cheer until they can cheer no more.
Soon the other students join in, and department ri-
valries are forgotten in a loud enthusiasm for alfna
mater. At the dinner hour the usual rules of de-
corum are for once relaxed, and the happy pande-
[58]
THE SPIRIT OF OLYMPIA
monium continues until bedtime. Then at last, tired
and sleepy and voiceless, the college settles down to
a long rest, after the best field-day that has ever been
held in the Turkish Empire.
r59]
CHAPTER V
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
RAILWAYS and carriage-roads In Syria are
chiefly due to French enterprise. The So-
ciete OttoTtiane des Chemins de Fer de
Damas, Hama et Prolongeitnents has less rolling
stock than its lengthy name might lead one to expect,
and its slow schedule is not always observed with a
mechanical Western exactness. Although Damascus
is barely fifty miles from Beirut, the journey thither
takes ten hours ; for the constantly curving railway
measures more than ninety miles and the total rise of
its numerous steep grades is over 7,000 feet. This
single, narrow-gauge road, which is carried over two
high mountain ranges, is an admirable example of
modern engineering, and the scenery through which
it passes is a source of unbroken delight.
As we zig-zag up the western slope of Lebanon
there appear, now at our right and now at our left,
a succession of beautiful panoramas which differ one
from the other only in revealing a constantly widen-
ing horizon. Rich, populous valleys, lying deep be-
tween the shoulders of the mountains, slope quickly
downward to the coast where, farther and farther be-
£60]
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
low us, the silvery-grccn olive orchards and golden
sands of Beirut reach out into the ever-broadening
azure expanse of the Mediterranean.
Sometimes great masses of billowing clouds drift
up the valleys, so that for a while we seem to be trav-
eling along a narrow isthmus between foaming seas.
The people of Aleih — a charming summer resort
where the mountainside is so steep that there is no
room for a curve and the train has to back up the
next leg of the ascent — are the butt of many a pop-
ular tale. One day, so the wits of the neighboring
villages relate, these foolish fellows mistook the ris-
ing tide of mist for the sea itself, and the whole pop-
ulace prepared to go fishing.
Another time a number of residents of Alelh went
to Beirut to buy shoes. On their way back they all
sat on a wall to rest ; and when they were ready to go
on again, behold, the new shoes were all exactly the
same size, shape and color, and no man could tell
which of the feet were his. So there they sat, in sad
perplexity as to how they should ever reach home,
until a passer-by, to whom they explained their diffi-
culty, smote the shoes smartly one after the other
with his stick and thus enabled each person to recog-
nize his own feet.
A third Aleih story also exemplifies the ridiculous
exaggeration which so delights a Syrian audience.
It seems that the only public well in the village used
to be the subject of frequent quarrels between the
[6i]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
inhabitants of the upper and lower quarters. So
finally the sheikh stretched a slender pole across the
middle of the opening and commanded that thence-
forth each of the two opposing factions was to draw
only from its own side. For a time all went peace-
ably ; but one dark night a zealous partisan was dis-
covered diligently at work dipping water from the
farther side of the pole and pouring it into his half
of the well !
Shortly after leaving Aleih, the train turns straight
east and climbs with labored puffings up the shoulder
of Jebel Keneiseh to the watershed, 4,800 feet above
[62]
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
Beirut. It is very much cooler now. In midsum-
mer, refreshing breezes blow down from unseen snow-
banks among the mountaintops. In winter — if, in-
deed, the traffic is not entirely blocked by drifts
which choke the railway cuts — the journey is mem-
orable for its piercing, inescapable cold, and the na-
tives who gather idly at the stations wear heavy
sheepskin cloaks and keep their heads and shoulders-
swathed in thick shawls, though, strangely enough,
their legs may be bare and their frost-bitten feet
protected only by low slippers.
At last the jolting of the rack-and-pinion ceases,
the train quickens its speed, passes through two
short tunnels, swings around a high embankment;
and over the crests of the lower hills we see a long,
narrow stre+ch of level country, bordered on its far-
ther side by a Avall-like line of very steep mountains.
The profile of the " Eastern Mountains " — as we
behold them from this point Ave can hardly avoid us-
ing the Syrian name for Anti-Lebanon — seems al-
most exactly horizontal, and the resemblance of the
range to a tremendous rampart is heightened by the
massive buttresses which reach out at regular inter-
vals between the courses of the winter torrents.
The valley before us is that which the Greeks
named Coele-Syria or " Hollow Syria." In modern
Arabic it is called the Bika^ or " Cleft." Just as
in Palestine the Jordan River and its two lakes are
hemmed in by mountains which rise many thousand
[ 63 ]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
feet above, so in Syria the Bika' stretches between
the parallel ranges of Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon.
There is, however, one striking difference between the
two valleys. That of the Jordan is a deep depres-
sion, and the mouth of the river is nearly 1,300 feet
below the surface of the Mediterranean. On the
other hand, the central valley of Syria throughout its
entire length lies considerably above sea-level, and
at its highest point reaches an elevation of about
4,000 feet. The Bika', which is seventy miles long
-
LEBANON
-10.000
ANTI-LEBANON
10,000'
•
'^-~\v ^
•v
^ \^
■
•5.0OO
,^**^o
CO
30
1
40
to
3,000.
D
Conventionalized cross-section of Syria from Beirut (B) to
Damacus (D). The horizontal distances are marked in miles,
the vertical in feet.
and from seven to ten miles wide, is exceedingly fer-
tile, and in it rise the two largest rivers of Syria.
Near their sources the Orontes and Leontes pass
within less than two miles of each other ; yet the for-
mer flows to the north past Hama and Aleppo, while
the latter turns southward and reaches the Mediter-
ranean between Tyre and Sidon.
The Bika' extends north and south as far as
we can see and is apparently as level as a floor.
[64]
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
There are hardly any trees on it, only two or three
tiny hamlets and no isolated buildings. The Syrian
farmers prefer to dwell on the hillsides ; for there the
water of the springs is cooler, it is easier to guard the
villages against marauding bands, and all of the ara-
ble land below is left free for cultivation. So the
great flat fields of plowed earth or ripening grain
which fill the valley seem the pattern of a long Ori-
ental carpet in rich reds and browns and greens and
yellows, unrolled between the mountains.
As we pass from the shadow of a last obstructing
embankment, there bursts upon our vision the glori-
ous patriarch of Syrian peaks. Twenty-five miles
to the south the splendid crest of Hermon towers
into the cloudless sky a full mile above the surround-
ing heights.
The familiar Hebrew name of this famous mountain
means the " Sacred One," and the expression " the
Baal of Hennon," ^ seems to indicate that in very
ancient times it bore a popular shrine. The Jews also
knew it by its Amorite title Senir, the " Banner."
Modern Syrians sometimes refer to it as the " Snow
Mountain," for its summit is capped with white long
after the summer sun has melted the drifts from the
lower peaks. Most commonly, however, it is called
esh-Sheikh, which means " the Old Man," or rather
" the Chieftain," for age and authority are indissolu-
iThis is the correct rendering of Judges 3:3.
[65]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
bly associated in the thought of the Arabic-speaking
world.^
Hermon is by far the most conspicuous landmark
in all Palestine and Syria. I have seen it from the
north, south, east and west. I have admired it from
its own near foothills and from a hundred and fifty
miles away. Viewed from every side it has the same
shape — a long, gently rising cone of wonderful
beauty; wherever you stand, it seems to be squarely
facing you ; and from every viewpoint it dominates
the landscape as do few other mountains in the world.
This sacred peak influenced the religious idealism
of many centuries. Upon its slopes lay Dan, the
farthest point of the Land of Promise. " From Dan
to Beer-sheba," from the great mountain of the north
to the wells of the South Country, stretched the Holy
Land. Hebrew poets and prophets sang of the plen-
teous dew of Hermon, its deep forests, its wild, free
animal hfe. Upon its rugged shoulders the Greeks
and Romans continued the worship of the old Syrian
nature-gods. Hither, in the tenth century, fled from
2 C. R. Conder, the eminent Palestinian archaeologist, points
out that Arabic grammar necessitates our translating Jebel
«sh-Sheikh " Mountain of the Sheikh," and derives the appella-
tion from the fact that in the tenth century the founder of
the Druse religion took up his residence in Hermon (Hastings,
Dictionary of the Bible, s. v. "Hermon"). But no one who
has seen the white head of the tall, strong mountain can help
thinking of Hermon as itself the proud^ reverend sheikh of the
glorious tribe of Syrian peaks.
[66 1
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
Egypt Sheikh ed-Durazy and made it the center of
the new Druse rehgion. Above its steep precipices
the Crusaders built two of their largest castles. But
one most solemn event of all uplifts the sacred moun-
tain even closer to the skies ; for on some unnamed
summit of the " Chieftain " the supreme Leader stood
when the heavens opened for His transfiguration.
We cross the valley rapidly to the junction-station
of Rayak and then, again ascending, penetrate the
Eastern Mountains by a winding river-course which,
as we follow it higher and higher, affords fine views
over the Bika' to the range of Lebanon through
which we were so long traveling. Directly opposite
us stands Jebel Keneiseh, bare, brown and forbidding,
while beside it rises the loftier Sunnln. When viewed
from the coast, this noble mountain reveals one long,
even slope to its topmost crest ; but its back is made
up of a multitude of rounded eminences, so that it
resembles an enormous blackberry. Twenty miles
to the north of Sunnin, near the famous Cedars of
Lebanon, the range culminates in a group of snow-
capped peaks which lack the impressiveness of Her-
mon's haughty isolation, yet which actually rise two
thousand feet above even the Sheikh INlountain.
After crossing the watershed of Anti-Lebanon, we
turn south through the lovelv little vale of Zebedani.
At our left are the highest summits of the range ; at
our right are precipitous cliffs which, save for a
glimpse of the snows of Hermon, shut off the distant
[67]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
view; but between these heights is a scene of quiet,
comfortable beauty. The tract is well-watered and
fertile, and its wheat-fields are as level as the surface
of a lake. Indeed, there surely must have been a lake
here once upon a time. Along the eastern edge of
the grain-land are charming, green-hedged gardens
and closely planted orchards and long lines of pop-
lar trees, while low-bent vines hug the sunny slopes at
the mountain's foot. This high but sheltered valley
is one of the few places in Syria where really fine ap-
ples are grown, and the grapes and apricots of Zebe-
dani are famous throughout the whole country.
In a small marshy lake among the hills that border
the rich, slumbrous little plain there rises one of the
world's greatest rivers ; great not In size — at its
widest it is hardly more than a mountain brook and
no ship has ever sailed its waters — but great be-
cause it has made one of the proudest cities of earth ;
for this slender stream which winds so leisurely
through the wheat-fields of Zebedani is the far-famed
Abana, and Abana is the father of Damascus.
At the lower end of the valley, the brook turns
sharply eastward through a break in the mountains,
and we follow it swiftly down a succession of narrow
chasms and wild ravines, all the way to the end of
our journey. The first two hours of our ride we
traveled but twelve miles : the last two hours we slide
forty miles around short, confusing curves. Some-
times there are distant views of bare, reddish sum-
[68]
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
mits ; often we are hemmed in by the dense growth
of trees which border the stream; but we are never
far from the rushing waters of the Abana.
There is ancient history along our route, not to
speak of legends innumerable. The little village of
Suk Wadi Barada or " Barada Valley Market," was
once called Abila, and was the chief city of the Tet-
rarchy of Abilene, the fixed date of whose establish-
ment helps us to compute the chronology of the Gos-
pels.^ The valley itself is still known here as Abila ;
and therefore, through a characteristic confusion of
names, the Moslems locate the grave of Abel on the
summit of an adjoining hill. Cain, they say, was at
his wits' end how to dispose of the dead body of his
brother, for burial was of course unknown to him ;
so the murderer carried the corpse on his back many
days, seeking in vain a place where he might securely
conceal the evidence of his crime. . At last, accord-
ing to the Koran, " God sent a raven which scratched
upon the ground, to show him how he might hide his
brother's corpse." ^
Across the ravine from Suk Wadi Barada we can
see the remains of an ancient road hewn in the solid
rock, and a ruined aqueduct which some say was
built by Queen Zenobia to carry the water of the
Abana across the desert to Palmyra. It is almost
certain, however, that both road and aqueduct, as
well as the tombs whose openings appear higher up
»Cf. Luke 3:1. ■» Sura 5:34.
[69]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
in the cliff, were constructed in the second century
by the Romans.
Ain Fijeh, the next important village, bears a
peculiarly redundant name, which reminds us of Ger-
man Baden-Baden. The first first word is Arabic
and the second is a corruption of the Greek yege,
and both mean " spring." But, after all, " Spring
Spring " is not such a bad name ; for there gushes
from a cave in the rock such an abundant fountain
that the Abana here increases threefold in volume,
and mediaeval Arab geographers, as well as the mod-
ern inhabitants of the mountains, are unanimous in
considering this the principal source of the river.
From the cold, clear spring, a small tile aqueduct has
for the last few years carried drinking-water to Da-
mascus. Unfortunately, however, only a few of the
more important buildings are as yet supplied from
this source, and the common people are loath to jour-
ney to the public fountains when there are all over the
city so many nearer — and dirtier — streams from
which to draw. " The Moslems, especially, prefer
to drink water which runs in the open rather than
that which is piped," said a native physician in an-
swer to my questions as to the health of Damascus.
" So, you see," he added facetiously, " my practice
has not suffered appreciably since the completion of
the aqueduct."
As we descend the narrow, winding valley of
the Abana, it becomes more and more choked with
[70]
An old bridge over the Barada River
ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS
verdure. We now begin to understand why the
Greeks called this the Clirysorrlioas or " Golden
River." If we take advantage of one of the lengthy
stops to step across the track and plunge our hands
into its icy waters, we realize the fitness of its mod-
ern Arabic name, Barada — the " Cold Stream."
Occasionalh^ we still glimpse far above us grim, tree-
less heights ; but, between the cliffs, dense thickets or
closel3' planted orchard trees line the river-banks.
Now the Abana is a roaring, foaming torrent ; now
it flows chill, deep and silent ; but always it hurries
as if it were racing with the train. This, in its turn,
goes more rapidh'. It twists and swings and bumps
as it takes dangerously short curves at — for a
Syrian train — full speed. We pass into the
shadow of a beetling precipice and, beneath the thick
foliage which overhangs it, the river runs black as
ink. Then, suddenly, we have left the gloom of the
mountains and are out in the bright sunlight which
floods a boundless plain. Wo have crossed to the
eastern edge of Syria and before us, just beyond the
orchards of Damascus, lies the desert.
[71]
CHAPTER VI
THE LAND OF UZ
TO appreciate truly the significance of Damas-
cus, one should approach it from the east,
across the thirsty wilderness which stretches
between the Euphrates and the Syrian mountains.
The long, wearisome journey would be worth while if
only for the first glimpse of the city as it appears
to the wondering eyes of the desert-dweller. But the
twentieth century visitor may be excused if he pre-
fers to save time and strength by utilizing the rail-
way. To-day there is even a choice of routes. He
can travel to Damascus from the west comfortably,
or from the south speedily. But the adverbs are
not interchangeable.
We have already taken the slow, beautiful journey
from Beirut across the two mountain ranges. Tlie
other railway between Damascus and the coast starts
from the seaport of Haifa, at the foot of Mount Car-
mel, and follows at first a fairly easy grade through
the historic Plain of Esdraelon to the Jordan Valley
at Beisan. From here it runs northward along the
river to the Sea of Galilee,^ then in a general easterly
J See the author's The Real Palestine of To-day, chapter
[72]
THE LAND OF UZ
direction up the valley of the Yaraiuk to the plateau
of the Hauran, where the Haifa branch joins the
main line of the Mecca railway. Although the dis-
tance to Damascus by this route is a hundred and sev-
enty-seven miles, or almost twice that from Beirut,
the journey takes no longer. But in warm weather
it is not a very comfortable trip, for more than half
the time the train is below the level of the sea.
From Semakh, which lies at the southern end of the
Sea of Galilee six hundred feet below the Mediter-
ranean, the railway ascends the Yarmuk gorge
through the most wild and desolate scenery imagi-
nable. The entire region northeast of Galilee is vol-
canic. Prehistoric flows of molten rock extended
over large areas, and the subsequent erosion of the
river has cut through a solid layer of hard basalt
from ten to fifty feet thick, whose perpendicular black
cliffs appear in striking contrast to the irregular
outlines of the softer limestone beneath.
For two hours after leaving the Sea of Galilee we
do not pass a human habitation ; indeed, for the first
few miles there is no evidence of vegetable life except
now and then a small clump of bushes at a bend of
the stream. As the train puffs slowly up the bed of
the steep, twisting ravine, all that can be seen is the
narrow torrent rushing madly along between white
walls of lime or chalk, above these a smooth, regular
XV, " The War-path of the Empires," and XVIII, " The Lake
of God's Delight."
[73]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
layer of shining black basalt and, as we look straight
up or down the valley, a few bare, brown mountain-
tops showing above the nearer cliffs. After a
while, however, oleanders appear along the riverside,
and for mile upon mile their thick foliage and gor-
^ / / H
BOSRA ''■.
geous flowers add the one touch of life to the wild,
lonely landscape. We pass a strange monolithic
pyramid a hundred feet high, which has been carved
by some freak of the winter floods. A little farther
on, a recent landslide has covered the bottom of the
valley with black stones and soot-like dust. Even
[74]
THE LAND OF VZ
early in the morning it is hot and stifling in this
breezeless trench below the level of the ocean.
As we rise higher, however, scattered olive trees ap-
pear among the oleanders by the riverside, and a few
little patches of thin wheat are seen among the rocks.
A small herd of black, long-haired goats are drinking
in the stream. We are startled to behold a rude oil-
well. A dozen men are gathered at each railway sta-
tion, though the villages from which they have come
are still invisible on the heights above us. Then the
valley suddenly turns and broadens, and we see
against the cloudless sky the clean-cut profile of the
highland country toward which we have been so long
ascending. The track now leaves the river's bank
and, in great loops, quickly mounts the side of the
valley. From the edge of the plateau there comes
tumbling a magnificent succession of cascades, which
finall}' roar under a railway bridge and break in
spray at the bottom of the gorge far beloAV us. An-
other broader waterfall drops in a solid sheet of silver
from the unseen land bej^ond the level summit of the
precipice. Our train twists up a last steep grade,
straightens out on the level ground — and, after look-
ing for three hours at the close cliffs which hemmed
in a narrow valley, it gladdens our eyes to gaze now
on the vast prospect which is revealed in the shimmer-
ing light of the noonday sun.
Before us stretches the Hauran, the ancient Land
of Bashan, a rolling sea of soft brownish earth and
[75]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
waving wheat. From time immemorial this has been
the chief granary of western Asia. Until we become
accustomed to the new perspective, we can not dis-
tinguish a village or tree or living creature. Here
and there a few apparently low hills show their sum-
mits above the horizon. The Arabs, who came from
the high eastern desert, called this the Haurdn, or
" Depression," because it lies flat between the moun-
tains. But to us who have climbed hither from a
point 2,500 feet below, the broad acres of Bashan
seem set far up among the lonely skies. An endless,
level, undivided expanse of wheat; dim summits far
away; fertility and spaciousness and freedom and
strong, ceaseless wind — this is the Hauran.
Muzeirib,-the first station on the plateau, is the
terminus of the earliest railway from Damascus to the
Hauran, which was completed by the French in 1895.
During recent years this has suffered severely from
the competition of the Hejaz Railway begun in 1901
by Abdul Hamid ; for the Turkish line is some-
what cheaper, has better connections, and enjoys the
odor of sanctity. In fact, its chief avoAved object is
ultimately to connect Damascus with Mecca and thus
provide transportation for tlie multitude of the
Faithful who each year make the pilgrimage to the
holy city. Only Moslems were employed on the con-
struction of this sacred railway, large numbers of
Turkish soldiers were detailed as guards and laborers ;
and, besides special taxes which were levied, volun-
[76]
THE LAND OF UZ
tary subscriptions for the pious enterprise were sent
in from all over the world of Islam. On account of
the revolution of the Young Turks and the troublous
times which followed the enforced abdication of Abd-
ul Hamid, no work has been done on the railway for
several years. Already, however, it extends 823
miles to Medina, which is four-fifths of the distance
to Mecca; but non-Moslems are strictly forbidden to
travel beyond Ma'an, 285 miles from Damascus, with-
out a special permit from the government.
Der'a, where we join the Hejaz main-line, has
since the earliest days of Christianity been identified
with Edrei, the capital of Og, the giant king of Ba-
shan.- Beneath the ancient citadel, which stands
some distance to the south of the station, is a wonder-
ful labyrinth of caves, with real streets and shops as
well as dwelling-places. This underground city
doubtless w^as intended as a refuge for the entire
population of the capital in time of siege, but it has
not been used for many centuries.
As our train now turns northward from Der'a,
Mount Hermon comes into full view at our left, in all
its splendor of towering summit and dazzling white-
ness, and the lofty blue cone with its long streaks
of summer snow^ stays with us for the rest of the
da}-.
Thirty miles to our right, Jebel Hauran, also known
as the " Druse Mountain," rises from the level sea
2NumI)er.s 21:33.
[77]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
of grain like a long, low island. At such a distance
we find it difficult, even in this crystal air, to
realize that the isolated mountain is really forty miles
long and only a little short of six thousand feet high.
It is one of the few localities in the region where are
still found the once famous " oaks of Bashan." ^
Since the religious struggles which drenched Syria
with blood in 1860, many thousand Druses have mi-
grated from Lebanon to the Hauran, where the spe-
cial retreat and stronghold of this proud, brave, re-
lentless people is the mountain which bears their
name. Hither they flee from the conscription ; here
they defy the hated tax-collector, flaunt their con-
tempt of the weak Turkish government and, as is
their wont everywhere, waste their own strength in
bitter family feuds.
A very ancient and plausible Christian tradition,
which since the rise of Islam has also been accepted
implicitly by the Moslems, identifies the Hauran with
the " Land of Uz " where dwelt the patriarch Job.
Three towns on the western slopes of the Druse
Mountain perpetuate his story. Bishop William of
Tyre, writing in the twelfth century, mentions the
popular belief that Job's friend Bildad the Shuhite
dwelt at Suweida, and the inhabitants of this village
boast that the patriarch himself was their first sheikh.
At Kanawat a group of very old ruins is commonly
known as the " Convent of Job," and at Bosra, the
3 Isaiah 3:13, etc.
[78]
THE LAND OF VZ
ancient capital of the Hauran, there is a Latin in-
scription in his praise. Probably this belonged to a
sixth century leper asylum; for the suffering patri-
arch early came to be considered the special patron
of those who, Hke himself, were afflicted with the most
mysterious and loathsome of diseases.
But it is in the plain that memories of this Biblical
drama cluster most closely. Nawa, twenty miles
northwest of Der'a, has for two thousand years
been honored as Job's birthplace. An hour's ride
to the south of this village there stood fifteen hundred
years ago a splendid church dedicated to the Man of
Uz, and part of the ruined " Monastery of Job " is
still in good enough condition to be used as Turkish
barracks. Near by is shown the rock on which he
leaned while arguing with his three friends — it is a
small basalt monument erected by Barneses II. — also
the stone trough in which he washed after his afflic-
tions were ended, and the tomb of the patriarch and
his wife.
In spite of the naive and often impossible localiza-
tion of particular incidents of the story of Job, it is
quite possible that the very old tradition is correct,
and the mysterious Land of Uz across which roamed
the herds and flocks of " the greatest of all the Chil-
dren of the East " was this same free, fertile table-
land along which we are now traveling. Before the
Hauran was so largely given over to agriculture, it
must have been, an ideal grazing country; it has al-
[79]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
ways been subject to forays by robber tribes from
the desert ; ^ and the " great wind from the wilder-
ness " which smote the dwelling; of Job's eldest son ^
would perhaps nowhere else blow with such fury as
on this high, open plateau.
There was just such a great wind from the wilder-
ness the last time I went to Damascus. The Hauran
bears a deserved reputation for coolness and health-
fulness ; but that day, as happens two or three times
each summer, there was a sirocco. The wind was in-
deed blowing — blowing a furious gale of perhaps
thirty-five miles an hour; but it came straight from
the eastern desert and scorched as if it had been a
blast from an opened furnace door. I did not have a
thermometer with me; but, from sirocco experiences
elsewhere, I should judge that the temperature in
the train was not under a hundred and five degrees.
The drinking-water that we had brought for the jour-
ney became warm and nauseating; but we put it to
good use in soaking the back of our necks, where it
evaporated so quickly in the dry, burning wind that
it stung like ice for a few seconds, and then was gone.
Strange as it may seem, the only other way to miti-
gate the heat was to shut the car windows and keep
the breeze out.
There were fortunately some interesting incidents
to enliven the long; hot ride over the monotonous
plain. We did not see any of the renowned " strong
4 Job 1:15, 17. 5 Job 1:19.
[80]
THE LAND OF UZ
bulls of Bashan," ^ or any other cattle grazing on the
plain, but we watched slow caravans bearing wheat
to the coast, as they have been doing for millenniums
past. They could never carry all the grain that this
productive district might harvest, and the railways
should prove a rich boon to the Hauran. We pon-
dered curiously as to why the stations were never by
any chance just at the towns and why the track
should swing far to the right and left in great curves,
as if it were ascending a difficult grade, when the only
engineering problem involved in its construction
could have been solved by laying a ruler on the map
and drawing a straight line down the center of the
level plain. A fellow-traveler explained to us that
the course of the railway had not been determined
by the usual considerations, such as economy of con-
struction and the desirability of passing through the
most densely populated districts, but by the amount
of bakhsheesh which wealthy landowners would pay
the government in order to have the line pass through
their estates.
We stopped an unconscionable length of time
at every station, for no evident reason ; and when
we did get ready to start there were so many vocifer-
ous warnings that very naturally none of them was
heeded by the passengers who had got off for refresh-
ments. So finally the rapidly moving train would be
chased by a crowd of excited peasants, most of whom
6 Psalm 22:12, etc.
[8i]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
carried big bundles and wore long, hampering gar-
ments. Several were left behind at lonely stations.
There would be another train — to-morrow ! Of
course, all the dogs ran after us. Provided they are
well-fed, dogs and children are exactly the same the
world over; and these were not the starved, sullen
curs which lie in Oriental gutters, but were wide-
awake, fun-loving fellows who ran merrily alongside
the train for a half-mile from the town, and had no
difficulty in understanding our English shouts of en-
couragement. As we were pulling out of one of the
stations, a very reverend, gray-bearded old farmer
stole a ride on the running-board; but he misjudged
the quickly increasing speed of the train, and, when he
at last decided to jump ofF, rolled head-over-heels
down the steep embankment. The last we saw of him,
he was gazing after us with a ludicrously dejected
countenance whose every lineament expressed stem
disapproval of the nervous haste of these degenerate
modern days.
As a rule the other travelers were too hot and tired
to afford us much entertainment ; but one new arrival,
, not finding a seat elsewhere, tried to force his way
into the harem-compartment which Turkish railways
always provide for the seclusion of Moslem ladies.
The lord and master of the particular harem occu-
pying this compartment resented the intrusion with
such a frenzy of threatening gesticulation and insult-
ing malediction that the members of our party who
[82]
THE LAND OF UZ
were unaccustomed to the ways of the East expected
to see murder committed forthwith. The conductor,
who interposed as peace-maker, was — as is usual on
this holy railway — a Turk who knew no Arabic,
and he consequently had great difficulty in determin-
ing what the quarrel was about; but the Syrians
have a healthy fear of any one wearing a uniform, so
the trouble was finally adjusted without bloodshed.
After we became accustomed to the peculiar fea-
tures of the landscape we could now and then distin-
guish a village. Yet at a very short distance the lar-
gest settlements were blurred into the brown plain ;
for the houses are all built of a dull black basalt and,
save for one or two square towers, the compact ham-
lets are hardly to be distinguished from rough out-
croppings of rock. All of the dwellings look like de-
serted ruins : some of them are. All seem centuries
old: many have been occupied for more than a thou-
sand years, for the hard basalt seems never to crum-
ble.
The extraordinarily rich earth of the Hauran is
only disintegrated lava, and as we near the end of the
plain we pass tracts where presumably more recent
eruptions have not yet been weathered into fertile
soil. Two or three miles to the east of the railway
a long line of dark rock some thirty feet high marks
the western edge of the Leja, which in New Testa-
ment times was known as the Trachonitis "^ or " Rocky
7 Luke 3:1.
[83]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Place." From now-extinct volcanoes at the northern
end of the Druse Mountain there flowed these three
hundred and fifty square miles of lava, which has
broken in cooling into such a maze of irregular fis-
sures that its surface has been likened to that of a
petrified ocean. Yet this rugged region contains also
little lakes, and pockets of arable soil, and numerous
ruins of villages and roads and bridges which point
to a considerable population in former days. Leja
means " hiding-place " or " refuge," and the Druses
call this forbidding district the " Fortress of Allah."
The entire lava mass is honeycombed with caves. In-
deed, the people of the Hauran say that one
who knew the labyrinth of subterranean passages
could make his way from one end of the Leja to the
other without once appearing above ground. It is no
wonder that this immense natural citadel, with its
unmarked trails, its innumerable hiding-places in dark
caves or deep-cut fissures of the rock, and its easy
dominance over the dwellers on the level plain below,
has always been a thorn in the side of whatever gov-
ernment pretended to rule the Hauran. Eighty
years ago the Druses of the Leja, although they were
outnumbered by the attacking force twenty to one,
routed with terrible slaughter the entire army of
Ibrahim Pasha, the great Egyptian conqueror.
The description of the Leja and its inhabitants
which was written in the first century A. D. by Jo-
sephus would serve for any period in its wild history.
[84]
THE LAND OF UZ
" It was not an easy thing to restrain tliem, since this
way of robbery had been their usual practice, and
they had no other way to get their Hving, because
they had neither any city of their own, nor lands in
their possession, but only some receptacles and dens
in the earth, and there they and their cattle lived in
common together: however, they had made contriv-
ances to get pools of water, and laid up corn in gran-
aries for themselves, and were able to make great re-
sistance by issuing out on the sudden against any
that attacked them ; for the entrances of their caves
were narrow, in which but one could come in at a
time, and the places within incredibly large and made
very wide ; but the ground over their habitations was
not very high, but rather on a plain, while the rocks
are altogether hard and difficult to be entered upon
unless any one gets into the plain road by the guid-
ance of another, for these roads are not straight, but
have several revolutions. But when these men are
hindered from their wicked preying upon their neigh-
bors, their custom is to prey one upon another, inso-
much that no sort of injustice comes amiss to them." *
Joscphus' diction is as involved as the labyrinthine
trails of the Leja, but his facts are still correct.
Further evidences that we are in a volcanic region
are found in the round black stones, about the size
of large bowling-balls, which now begin to appear
on the plain. At first they do not seriously interfere
9 Antiquities of the Jews, XV. 10.1.
[85]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
with cultivation, for the farmers gather them into
heaps along the edges of their fields. A few miles
farther on, however, there are so many that there
has been no attempt to remove them and the light
plow has simply scratched whatever narrow strips of
earth might lie between the rocks. At last they cover
the land as far as we can see, with hardly their own
diameter separating them. There must be ten thou-
sand of them to the acre. Millions upon millions of
black spots dot the nearer landscape and in the dis-
tance merge into an apparently solid mass of dark,
hard sterility.
By this time most of the passengers in our coacK
have become very tired and irritable, though the loud
breathing of some indicates that they have fallen into
a restless slumber. Several are quite sick from the
heat. At half-past five in the afternoon the sun
has lost none of its midday glare, and the noisy wind
from the desert still scorches with its furnace breath.
On either side, the monotonous multitude of round
black rocks strew the brown, burnt earth. The hills,
which constantly draw in closer to us, seem as if they
might have fair pasture-land on their lower slopes ;
but, save for the shining white dome of one Moslem
tomb, they bear nothing higher than scattered grass
and dusty thorn-bushes. We climb slowly over the
watershed in the narrow neck of the plain, then speed
swiftly down a steep incline ; and, lo, we behold a ver-
[86]
THE LAND OF UZ
itable paradise of running water and heavily laden
orchard trees, above which the glory of the setting
sun gilds a forest of slender minarets.
[87]
CHAPTER VII *
THE EARTHLY PAEADISE
ACCORDING to the Moslem wise men, Jebel Kas-
yun Is a very sacred mount ; for upon it Abra-
ham dwelt when there was revealed to him the
supreme doctrine of the unity of God. Long before
that, however, Adam lived here: some say that he
was formed from the earth of this very mountain,
and that the reddish streaks upon its sides are noth-
ing less than the indelible bloodstains of murdered
Abel.
Yet as we stand by the little shrine known as the
Dome of Victory, which crowns the summit, we are
not thinking of ancient legends. Below us lies a
scene of entrancing interest and of a peculiar beauty
which is unlike that of any other beautiful prospect
in the world.
Back of us are the mighty, rock-buttressed Moun-
tains of the East, from whose sterile heart Is rent a
deep, dark ravine which thunders with the cascades
of the Abana. Then, Issuing from its narrow defile,
Abana is suddenly tamed. It spreads fan-like into
seven quiet branches ; and these in turn divide and
subdivide into a myriad life-giving streams which
[88]
THE EARTHLY PARADISE
sink at last in wildeniess sands, but, ere they sink,
make the desert to rejoice and blossom as the
rose.^
In the foreground of the picture, Damascus seems
hke an immense silver spoon laid on a piece of soft,
green plush. The long, slender handle, which is
made up of the modern peasant-markets, stretches
away two miles southward. The nearer bowl is the
site of the ancient city. Above its monotonous suc-
cession of sohdly massed houses are seen high, cylin-
drical roofs which cover the most important ba-
zaars ; in the very center stands the famous Omay-
3^ade Mosque with its splendid dome and spacious
court and three lofty towers, while a multitude of
other graceful minarets — it is said that they are
exactly as many as the days of the year — rise above
the most mysterious and fascinating of Moslem capi-
tals. Surely the traveler must be ignorant of his-
tory and bereft of sentiment who does not feel a deep,
strange thrill as he first looks upon the great city
1 It is the Abana, or Barada, which waters by far the
greater portion of this fertile district. The identification of
the Pharpar, which Naaman mentioned also as one of the
"rivers of Damascus" (II Kings 5:13), is uncertain. It may
have been one of the branches into which the Abana divides
as it passes through the city. jNIore probably, however, it was
the river now known as the Awaj ; for this is the only other
stream in the vicinity whose size is comparable to that of the
Abana and, though it flows some seven miles south of
Damascus, it is used for irrigating a considerable tract of
the surrounding orchard-country.
[89]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
which since the dawn of history has sat in proud
strength between the mountains and the desert.
From the viewpoint of physical geography, Syria
is Lebanon ; but politicall}^ commercially and socially,
it is still true that " the head of Syria is Damas-
cus." ^ Indeed, the city is now hardly ever called
by its real name, Dimeshk. It is simply esh-Shdm —
Syria !
History does not recall a time when Damascus did
not nestle here among the orchards which sweep out
to the edge of the desert. The IMoslem tradition
that it was founded by Eliezer, the chief servant of
Abraham, points to far too late a date. Josephus
tells us that it was built by Uz, the grandson of
Shem the son of Noah, and that when Abraham came
hither from Ur with an army of Chaldeans, he cap-
tured the already old capital and for a time reigned
here as king of Syria.^ " The name of Abram is
even now famous in the country of Damascus," adds
the Jewish historian. Eighteen hundred years later,
that is still true.
Without discussing further its legendary claims to
supreme antiquity, it is safe to say that Damascus
is the oldest important city in the world with an
unbroken history reaching to the present day. The
fame of its artificers and gardeners is embodied even
in our English language ; for we speak of Damascus
steel, the damask plum, damask rose, damask color,
2 Isaiah 7:8. ^ Antiquities of the Jews, 1.6.4; 1.7.2.
[go]
THE EARTHLY PARADISE
damask decoration and damaskeened metal-work.
Many of the greatest men of earth have trodden its
streets or fought before its walls or worshiped at its
shrines. Abraham the Hebrew, Tiglath-pileser the
Assyrian conqueror, Herod the Great, Paul of Tar-
sus, Khaled the " Sword of Allah," Baldwin of Flan-
ders, Louis VII. of France, Nureddin the Syrian,
Saladin the Kurd, Tamerlane the Tartar — such are
only a few of the names which come to mind as we
gaze upon the time-stained, battle-worn, but still rich
and haughty city. To tell adequately the story of
this most ancient of capitals would necessitate cover-
ing all the centuries of human history.
At the foot of the hill we shall find a tram-car wait-
ing to take us to a modern hotel with electric lights
and citj'-water, and in the evening we can hear a
phonograph in any one of a hundred cafes, or visit
moving-picture shows in the Serai Square, where a
tall column commemorates the completion of the tele-
graph-line to ]\Iecca. Yet, for all these recent in-
novations from the Western world, the real Damascus
is quite unchanged. It is still the most brilliant, en-
trancing, fanatical and intolerant of Moslem cities,
the one wliich best preserves the manners and cus-
toms of the early centuries of Islam. Indeed, this
is to-day the t\'pical Arabian Nights city ; for Cairo,
where those thrilling fairy tales were first related, is
rapidly becoming Europeanized through British in-
fluence, Constantinople is thronged with Greeks and
[91]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Armenians and intimidated by foreign embassies, and
the glory of Baghdad has long since departed. But
Haroun al-Raschid and his faithful vizier might wan-
der through the tortuous mazes of the bazaars of
Damascus and recognize hardly an essential change
from the life of a Moslem capital of a thousand years
ago.
Its Oriental characteristics have been thus pre-
served, and will doubtless be preserved for many
years to come, because of all great Arabic-speaking
cities Damascus is least dependent on the West. An
impassable wall might cut it off entirely from inter-
course with Europe, and still it would thrive and wax
strong on the wealth of its own orchards and its
commerce with the lands across the Syrian desert.
As we view the wide prospect from the Dome of
Victory, the city seems a whitish island, half hidden
by the billows of an ocean of luxuriant foliage. Far
as the eye can see — far as the dim blue hills which
mark the eastern horizon — the plain is jflooded with
leaves and blossoms. At closer view we shall recog-
nize the fig and pomegranate, the mulberry, pistachio,
peach, almond and apricot, the tall poplar and wav-
ing cypress and bending grape-vine and short,
gnarled olive tree. But from Jebel Kasyun we per-
ceive only one great expanse of warm, rich verdure ;
all shapes and colors are merged into a soft, level
green.
Beliind us rise the bare, chalky cliffs of Anti-
[92]
THE EARTHLY PARADISE
Lebanon. Beyond those low azure hills at the east
is the cruel desert. But between the mountains
and the desert hills lies the hundred square miles
of the Ghuta — the " Garden " of Damascus. No
language is too extravagant for the Arabic writers
who describe this land of fruits and flowing waters.
It is " the most excellent of all the beautiful
places of earth," exclaims the learned Abulfeda;
and the famous geographer Idrisi saj's, " There are
grown here all sorts of fruits, so that the mind can-
not conceive the variet}', nor can any comparison
show what is the fruitfulness and excellence thereof,
for Damascus is the most delightful of God's cities
in the whole world." Indeed, this is the place which,
among all the habitations of men, comes nearest to
the description of the Moslem paradise —
" The people of the Right Hand !
Oh, how happy shall be the people of the Right
Hand ! . . '.
In extended shade,
And by flowing waters.
And with abundant fruits,
Unfailing, unforbidden . . .
Gardens beneath whose shades the rivers flow." *
The prophet who sang thus of the celestial de-
lights of the Faithful once stood, it Is said, on the
summit of this sacred mountain and gazed with won-
*The Koran, Sura 56:36f; 61:12.
[93]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
dering admiration, as we are gazing, on the boun-
teous splendor of the Garden of Damascus. But
Mohammed refused to go down into the city for fear
lest, having tasted the joys of this earthly paradise,
he might lose his desire for the heavenly.
[94]
CHAPTER YIII
THEPORT OF THE WILDERNESS
ALTHOUGH it is ninety miles by railway from
navigable water, Damascus partakes of the
characteristics of a seaport. It is, in fact,
the port of the wilderness. Just to the east of its
fertile " garden " is the Syrian desert, across which
slow caravans have always been coming and going —
travehng from the rich river-bottoms of Mesopo-
tamia, from Persia and India, and even from far dis-
tant China, to bring the riches of Asia to the over-
flowing warehouses of Damascus. The lands from
which the city derives its prosperity cannot compete
with European industries, and so only a small pro-
portion of their products is now sent westward across
the Mediterranean. Yet Damascus remains still the
metropolis of the desert peoples. From the view-
point of the peasant or Bedouin Arab, it is a very
modem place; and to the stranger who can see
beneath the alluring glamour of its Orientalism, its
chief characteristics are abounding prosperity and
noisy activity. This oldest of cities is no mere in-
teresting ruin or historical pageant. Even in the
fast-month of Ramadan, its streets are as crowded
[95]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
as the most congested shopping district of London
or New York or Paris. ^
The most characteristic feature of the bazaar is
its smell — that peculiar, inescapable blending of
licorice and annis and pungent spices and heavy
perfumes, combined with a vague odor of age and
staleness which pervades the dust-laden air, and
sometimes with an odor not at all vague which arises
from the filth of unswept streets. It is not when I
" hear the East a-callin' " but when I smell the East
that the waves of homesickness sweep deepest over
me. I love the scent of the bazaar. Sometimes I
catch a whiff of it through the open door of a little
basement store in the Syrian Quarter of New York ;
and in a moment my thoughts are five thousand miles
away among the old familiar scenes.
The next most vivid impression of the bazaar is its
weird combination of bright coloring and gloom.
The narrow, winding street is guarded from the glar-
ing sun by striped awnings and old carpets which
reach across from house to house. Some few of
the chief thoroughfares, like the " Street called
1 Estimates of the population of the city vary from 150,000
to a more probable 300,000. Of this number, some 10,000 are
Jews, 30,000 are " Greek " and " Latin " Christians, and a few
score are Protestants. At least four-fifths of the population is
Mohammedan, and Islam is dominant and uncompromising in
Damascus, as it is not in cities like Constantinople and Cairo,
where Moslem fanaticism is to a greater or less degree held
in check by the constant menace of interference by Christian
powers.
[96]
THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
Straight," are enclosed by great cylindrical roofs
of corrugated iron. You are indoors and yet out-of-
doors. The light is dim ; but it is daylight, and you
feel that all the while the sun is shining very brightly
overhead. Along the fronts of the shops and hang-
ing on ropes which stretch across the street, are
shining brasses and pieces of inlaid wood-work and
cloths of the most gorgeous orient hues ; but the rear
of these same shops is usually wrapped in impene-
trable gloom. Sometimes there is visible only a
square black hole surrounded by a frame of gaudy
silks. When you pass a blacksmith's forge, with
shadowy figures moving among the sparks at the
back of the inky darkness, it seems like a glimpse into
inferno.
Most of the shops are tiny affairs only six or eight
feet square, wliich open on the street for their entire
width and have the floor raised to about the height
of the customer's waist. The resemblance of a
bazaar to a long double row of pigeon-holes is in-
creased by the manner in which the box-like recesses
follow continuously one after the other, with no door-
ways between, as the entrance to their upper stories
is by ladders in the rear.
In the middle of his diminutive emporium, the typi-
cal Damascus merchant sits all day cross-legged,
smoking his water-pipe, reading from a Koran placed
before him on a little wooden book-rest, and eter-
nally fondling his beard. Frequently he says his
[97]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
prayers. Sometimes he varies the monotony of a
dull day by chatting with a fellow-merchant in a
neighboring shop fully ten feet away. The Jews
and Christians of the city may be annoyingly impor-
tunate ; but the Moslems, who form the large ma-
jority, seem insolently careless as to whether the
passing stranger pauses to examine their goods or
not. Over their places of business they hang gilded
invocations to " the One who giveth sustenance," and
then leave matters entirely in His hands. If nothing
is sold all day, it is the will of Allah: If a customer
does come, it is the will of Allah — that he shall be
overcharged as much as possible.
Shopping in Damascus is not an operation to be
hurried through with careless levity. If you appear
a promising customer, the merchant will set coffee
before you and, while you and he are drinking to-
gether, will talk about anything under the sun except
business. When you ask him the price of an article,
he may tell you to keep it for nothing, just as did
Ephron the HIttite when Abraham was bargaining
for the Cave of Machpelah.^
If, however, you offer a fair amount for that same
" gift," he will protest that to accept such a paltry
sum would necessitate his children's going hungry
and naked. So he names a price about double what
he expects to get, and you suggest a sum equal to
half what you are willing to pay. Then follow vo-
2 Genesis 23:11.
[98]
THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
ciferous exclamations, indignant gesticulations, and
sacred oaths, while his price slowly comes down and
yours slowly goes up, until at last they almost,
though not quite, meet. Neither will change his
" last word " by a single piaster. Negotiations are
at an end. You turn scornfully to leave the shop of
the extortioner, while the merchant commends his
business to God and resignedly begins to wrap up
the goods and return them to their shelves. He does
this very deliberately, however, and just then — be-
cause you two are such good friends, whose apprecia-
tion of noble character finds its ideal each in the
other's life — you decide to split the difference, the
purchase is completed, and you part with mutual
protestations that only a deep, fraternal regard
forces you — and him — to conclude the bargain at
such a ruinous figure.
"It is bad, it is bad, saith the buyer;
But when he is gone his way, then he boasteth." '
Perhaps the shop-keeper will still, however, detain
you for a glass of sherbet. If he does, then you
have probably paid too much, after all.
A friend of mine was obliged to spend no less than
two weeks in purchasing a single Persian rug; but
during those two weeks the price went down ninety
dollars. One winter I had occasion to buy, at dif-
ferent times, several small picture frames. They
8 Proverbs 20:14.
[99]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
were all exactly the same size, shape and material,
were obtained from the same salesman at the same
shop, and in the end I paid for them the same price
to a piaster. Yet the purchase of each one neces-
sitated a half-hour of excited bargaining.
It should be understood, however, that there is
really nothing dishonest about such a procedure as
that described above ; for neither party is misled in
the least by the other's protestations, and neither
believes that he is deceiving the other. It is just the
leisurely, intensely personal Oriental way of doing
business. After you once become used to it, bar-
gaining in the bazaars is far more full of excitement
and human interest than buying something in the
West, where fixed prices are distinctly marked. If
you are so crude as to ask a Moslem merchant
to tell under oath what he paid for an article,
he will often speak the exact truth. But be sure to
swear him by a formula which he considers binding.
Every detail of a Syrian business transaction is
embellished by one or more of the fervent oaths of
the East. The traveler from the Occident, however,
needs only one : the " word of an Englishman " * is
still accepted at face value. Indeed, a generation
ago, Moslems who would unblushingly call upon al-
mighty God to witness to the most patent falsehoods,
could be trusted to speak the exact truth when they
•* This includes the American, for all who speak the English
language are ordinarily classed as Ingleezy.
[lOO]
T =1 mi'
One of the more modern avenues of Damascus
THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
swore bj the beard of a certain upright English mer-
chant of Beirut.
No picture can ever adequately represent the ba-
zaar, not even a moving picture ; for besides the un-
ending kaleidoscopic changes of coloring, as brightly
dressed peddlers and purchasers move hither and
thither, there is a ceaseless, deafening, indescribable
and untranslatable tumult of sound. Yet to one who
understands Arabic, this is more than noise: it is
music, poetry and romance. The hawker of each
commodity uses a peculiarly worded appeal which,
in eloquent circumlocution, extols the virtues of his
wares. These calls are usually rhyming; often they
include one of the ninety-nine sacred titles of Allah,
and frequently they are sung to a set tune. Back
and forth through the perilously crowded streets
they go — boys with great trays of sweetmeats on
their heads, men with tubs of pickled vegetables,
peasants bearing heavy loads of fresh figs, water-
carriers stooping low under their goatskin bottles,
peddlers of cakes and nuts and sherbets and the nose-
gay's which the Syrian gentleman loves to hold —
literally under his nose — as he strolls through the
city. All are shouting their wares. " Oh, thirsty
one ! " " Oh, father of a family ! " " Oh, Thou who
givest food!" "Allay the heat!" "Rest for the
throat ! " When Abraham passed through Damas-
cus he doubtless heard these same cries.
If we are driving, as is possible in the wider ba-
[lOl]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
zaars, our gallant coachman adds to the din as he
proudly snaps his long whip, toots the strident auto-
mobile horn which is now affixed to all Damascus
carriages and, in courteous gentleness or bawling
rage or sighing relief, keeps up an unintermitting
flow of Arabic adjuration to the passers-by whom he
almost, but never quite, runs down. " Look out for
your back! Hurry up, uncle! Your back, your
back ! — may your house be destroyed ! Your right,
lady ! Your left, sir ! Slowly, oh, inmates of the
harem! Oh, pilgrim, your back! Child, beware!
Your back, my friend! Your back! Your back!
E-e-eh ! A-a-ah ! "
High above the other calls rises now and then the
shrill, nasal song of the vender of sweetened bread,
Allah er-Razeek! — "God is the Nourisher!" A
half-naked beggar changes his pathetic whine to a
lusty curse as he shnks out of the way of a gallop-
ing, shouting horseman. Any one who feels in the
mood kneels down anywhere he happens to be and
prays aloud. As a kind of accompaniment to the
vociferous chorus there sounds the continuous tin-
kling of the brass bowls which are rattled against
each other by the lemonade-sellers. And — very fre-
quently in Damascus — ■ there pierces through the
deafening tumult the thin, penetrating chant of the
muezzin who, from his lofty minaret or from the
mosque door in the crowded, narrow street, calls to
[102]
THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
the greedy bazaar to think on the things that are un-
seen and eternal.
The great conflagration of 1911 destroyed the
heart of the business district by the Omayyade
Mosque, and those who knew the city of a few years
ago find it sadly strange to climb over the heaps of
dusty rubbish which cover once familiar streets.
But during the rebuilding, which is progressing rap-
idly, there is no appreciable diminution of business,
and the intricate maze of the bazaars still presents
scenes of marvelous variety and endless fascination.
There is the Water-pipe Bazaar, where narghileh
bowls are made out of cocoanuts ornamented with
gold and silver, the Draper's Bazaar filled with
shoddy European stuffs, the Saddle Bazaar with its
brightly covered Arabic saddles and gorgeous ac-
couterments, the almost forsaken Bazaar of the
Booksellers, where now hardly a half-dozen poorly
stocked booths hint at the intellectual conquests of
the Damascus of centuries gone by, and the Spice
]\Iarket, whose long rows of bottles scent the air with
their essences and attars. The Silk Bazaar is the
most brilliant, and its gaudiest patterns are hung
out for the inspection of admiring Bedouin visitors.
The Second-hand Bazaar of the auctioneers is
conunonly known as the Louse Market, not because
of the uncomplimentary suspicion which first sug-
gests itself, but from a very small and agile coin
[103]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
known by that name, which is frequently used in
increasing the bids.
As w& pass along one street after another, we see
open-front bakers' shops where paper-like loaves are
sold, still hot from the oven, and confectioners'
booths filled with all manner of sherbets and jellies
and delicious preserved fruits and the infinite vari-
ety of sweet, indigestible pastry in M'hich the Syri-
ans delight. In one little square there are great
piles of thin apricot paste which look exactly like
bundles of brown paper. The merchant offers us
a sample to taste, but we are not quite sure as to
the quality of the dust that has been settling upon
it all the morning. A long towel hung over yonder
doorway indicates that it is the entrance to a ham-
mam or public bath, within whose steaming court
we can see brown, half-naked forms reclining on
dingy divans. The intricate lattice-work of over-
hanging balconies guards the harems of the mer-
chants from the vulgar gaze of the crowds below.
This little gate, curtained by a hanging rug and
edged with a line of slippers, leads from the deafen-
ing tumult of the bazaar to the solemn quiet of a
cool, spacious mosque.
From time immemorial the merchant-artisans of
Damascus have been united in powerful associations.
There is even a guild of beggars, though, to do them
justice, these are neither so numerous nor so impor-
tunate as in most S^-rlan cities. On the other
[104]
THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
hand, the curs which infest the busiest streets are
innumerable and are disgusting in appearance be-
yond any other dogs I have ever seen. Yet these
sore, starved racks of bones, with hardly the energy
to get out of the way of a passing carriage, have
organizations of their own. At any rate, they rec-
ognize definite boundaries ; and a dog who ventures
outside the territory occupied by his own clan does
so at peril of his life. One evening a friend of mine,
who is a good mimic, was so unwise as to bark lus-
tily just as he entered our hotel. In a moment
every cur in the district was giving voice ; and far
into the night, as unhappily was all too strongly im-
pressed upon us, they kept up their vociferous search
for the unknown intruder.
But it is never quiet in Damascus. Most Orien-
tals go to bed very earl}^ Jerusalem is like a city
of the dead by half-past eight in the evening. The
Damascenes, however, seem to need no sleep, and
the noises of the streets never cease. The only no-
ticeable change in their volume is that, when the
shops close, just before sunset, the tumult suddenly
increases. Then, hour after hour, j'ou can hear the
heavy murmur of the multitude, broken occasionally
by the voice of someone singing, or by a chorus
of loud cheers. An interminable succession of songs
and marches, all of them fortissimo and in a strident
minor key, shatter what ought to be the midnight
stillness as they rattle fi'om phonographs whose
[105]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Arabic records are prepared by the German subsid-
iary of an American talking-machine company.
Very far off, a dog Hfts up his voice in a faint howl
which starts a pandemonium of barks and growls
and yelps all over the neighborhood. The freshen-
ing breeze rustles among the orchards ; then it slams a
window shut. The bell of a tram-car rings sharply ;
carriage horns give loud double toots which just fail
of forming any known musical interval, and always
there is the sound of water — rushing, purling, rip-
pling, splashing — the eternal anthem of Damascus'
greatness.
So when his second day in this noisy city draws
to a close, the wise traveler decides that, as there is
no use trj'ing to get to sleep early, he will go out
and himself share in the midnight enjoyments. I
do not know how many cafes there are in Damascus :
I should be quite ready to believe anyone who
told me that there were ten thousand. They are
said to be the finest in Syria. Indeed, the Damas-
cenes boast that the first of all coffee-shops was estab-
lished in their city, and also that sherbet was invented
here.
The best cafes are situated beside the main branch
of the Barada. Those near St. Thomas' Gate have
very attractive shaded gardens, where the tables are
set out under spreading trees and are surrounded
by tiny streams of lomning water. An evening
visit to one of these riverside resorts is a mem-
[io6]
THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
orable experience, and It is quite safe; for, unless
corrupted by European influence, no Moslem ever
touches alcoholic beverages, and one need therefore
fear none of the drunken roughness which is asso-
ciated with the " cafes " — which of course are not
cafes at all — of Christian America. The Damas-
cene seeks his recreation amid an atmosphere of ease
and leisure and refined enjoyment. If a patron
wishes to dream away the whole evening over one
cup of coffee or a five-cent nargJiileh, there is no one
to object. Itinerant musicians beguile the hours of
darkness with plaintive minor ditties sung to the
accompaniment of the guitar or zither; story-tellers
spin endless fairy tales to circles of breathless listen-
ers, and — alas ! — the tireless phonograph roars its
brassy songs. Many of the regular habitues of the
place are absorbed in interminable games of back-
gammon. Coffee, fruit syrups, pastry, candy, nuts,
cool water-pipes and mild cigarettes — such are the
favorite refreshments of the fierce, fanatical Mos-
lem !
As the cups in which the coffee is served are tin}^
handleless things, hardly larger than a walnut, they
are usually set in holders of filigree work. These
are, as a rule, made of brass, but in homes of wealth
they may be silver or even gold. The liquor is often
flavored witli rose-water and is very thick and sv/eet,
though it will be prepared murr if anyone has such
an outlandish taste as to prefer it " bitter." The
[107]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
unpalatable sediment which fills a good third of the
cup must on no account be stirred up. Many a
stranger has found to his cost that the coffee is
served exceedingly hot; and it is a necessity as well
as a sign of good breeding to keep the lips from
quite touching the surface and to suck up the drink
with a loud hissing noise. In a private house, this
formality should by no means be neglected, even if
the coffee has become cooled, as the omission would
be equivalent to a criticism of the host.
Around the coffee-pot centers the social life of
the Moslem world. It has an important place in
every kind of ceremonial and festive occasion, from
the circumcision of the child to the funeral of the
old man. The merchant offers it to his prospective
customer. The desert sheikh starts his women grind-
ing the beans in a large wooden mortar as soon
as a stranger enters his tent. Not to give coffee to
a guest would signify that he was unwelcome.^ It is
invariably served at the beginning of a call. Later
5 Some years ago, our minister to Turkey, who had been
promised an audience with Abdul Hamid, was made to wait
half a day in an anteroom of the palace without being offered
coffee. So far as I know, that fact was never published; for
the American newspapers seem to have quite missed the sig-
nificance of the omission, and our representative himself ap-
parently did not realize that he had been publicly insulted.
But the experienced diplomat who was then in charge of our
Department of State cabled the minister, in case of further
affront, to leave Constantinople immediately.
[io8]
' THE PORT OF THE WILDERNESS
on, sherbet is brought in, and then the visitor knows
that it IS time for him to leave.
Coffee sometimes plays a more serious part in
Eastern affairs. Its heavy sweetness disguises
varied and deadly poisons. The bacilli of typhoid
fever are said, in this scientific generation, to be
drunk unsuspectingly by many a venturesome meddler
in affairs of state. The death penalty is seldom in-
flicted in the Turkish Empire. Deposed ministers
and irrepressible busybodies and troublesome reform-
ers are merely imprisoned or exiled. Often they are
sent to Damascus. Then, shortly, they die of indi-
gestion or heart failure.
[109]
CHAPTER IX
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
THE great khans, or wholesale warehouses, of
Damascus lie in the center of the city near
the Omayyade Mosque. As a rule they are not
detached structures, but are hidden by the surround-
ing shops and are entered through tunnels which
pierce the sides of the bazaars. The finest of them
is the Khan Asad Pasha, which was erected a hundred
years ago by the governor whose name it bears, and
is still owned by his family. This is one of the
few really impressive pieces of Arabic architecture
in Syria, rich and massive, yet effectively adapted
to the purposes for which it was intended. The
building is constructed of alternate courses of dark
brown and yellow limestone, and its principal en-
trance is a high, vaulted "■ stalactite " gateway cov-
ered with beautiful carvings. The central court is
a hundred feet across and, as one comes suddenly
from the dim light of the crowded bazaar, it seems
of an astounding brightness and spaciousness. The
pavement is divided into squares by four pillars,
and from these spring the arches of nine lofty domes,
[no]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
which are ornamented with elaborate arabesques
and pierced by a number of small windows. On
the sides of this great court, and also on a gallery
above, are the offices of wholesale merchants and
brokers, and at the rear are situated smaller courts
and the vaulted storerooms of the khan. Around
the central fountain between the pillars of the largest
dome and crowding through the gateway and throng-
ing the street outside, a vociferous throng of mule-
teers and camel-drivers are unloading the caravans
which have come from Beirut on the coast and from
northern Aleppo and across the desert from the
Euphrates, bearing the choicest merchandise of the
East, and some few machine-made products of the
West, to swell " the riches of Damascus." ^
There are real merchant-princes in this busy trad-
ing-center, and some of them live in royal splendor.
The houses of the Damascus rich are truly palatial;
but the stranger would never guess it from their
exteriors, for the Syrian home has no elaborate
fa9ade and pretentious approach, such as the Franks
delight to build. The prime object of the architect
is to achieve the most absolute retirement for his
patron. No window ever looks into that of a neigh-
boring residence ; no passer-by ever glimpses through
an opened door the Interior of a private dwelling.
If the Englishman's house is his castle, the Syrian's
is his retreat.
1 Isaiah 8:4.
[Ill]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
You pass along a dirty alley to an insignificant
wooden door in a high stone wall. Just inside is
the porter's cell ; then comes a dark, vaulted passage-
way, which either has a sharp bend in it or else is
screened at the farther end ; then —
The open court which you enter may be three
hundred feet across. Its tessellated pavement is of
white marble inlaid with arabesques of darker stone.
In the center is a fountain with designs of colored
limestone set into its marble walls. Potted flowers
bloom luxuriantly in the warm sunlight, and birds
sing to the accompaniment of the splashing water.
In the grateful shade of small fruit trees are placed
bright rugs and soft cushions and tabarets made of
rare woods inlaid with mother-of-pearl. The many
lofty windows in the red and yellow striped walls of
the surrounding dwelling are curtained with gor-
geous silks.
At one side, usually the south, a spacious alcove
reaches to the height of the second-story ceiling.
This lizi'dn, or drawing-room, is entirely open to the
court; but its floor is raised a foot or two above the
pavement outside, and its decorations are as rich
and elaborate as if it were a huge, glittering jewel-
box. No figures of men or animals are seen, for
Moslems are forbidden to make representations of
any living creature in the heavens above or the earth
beneath or the waters under the earth ; ^ yet it is
2 According to the most strict Moslem teachers, the com-
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
astonishing what splendid effects are evolved by
their architects from the limited elements of Arabic
script, geometric designs, foliage, fruits and flowers.
In the liimn this arabesque ornamentation is pro-
fuse and elegant. The lower walls are built of al-
ternate layers of differently colored stones, into
which are set mosaic panels as intricate in design as
the priceless rugs which lie upon the marble pave-
ment. The woodwork of the room is all minutely
carved, and inlaid with bits of glass and mother-of-
pearl and sometimes even with jewels. The upper
walls are frescoed in blue and green and gold, and
from the gilded beams of the ceiling hang chande-
liers of silver and beaten brass.
This half out-of-doors alcove gives access to the
rooms which we should think of as being really in
the house. Some of these may be even more lav-
ishly decorated than the liwan, and all are com-
fortably furnished — according to the Syrian idea
of comfort. Into the apartments of the ladies, how-
ever, no male guest may enter. These are liareem
— " forbidden." Indeed, it is very likely that they
are in a separate building, which opens on an inner
court whose existence the casual visitor does not even
suspect. No men save her nearest relatives are sup-
posed ever to look upon the unveiled face of a Mos-
lem woman. This prohibition, however, is of neces-
mandment of the Prophet (the Koran, sura 5:92, etc.) would
prohibit the use of even the carved figures of the chess knights.
[113]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
sity little observed among the poor, hard-working
peasants and the desert Bedouins ; and in the cities
the universal characteristics of the female sex have
not been entirely obliterated by the law of Islam.
An unusually tliin gauze almost always reveals a
remarkably beautiful face, and I have seen veils co-
quettishly dropped — of course by accident — even
in the bazaars of fanatical Damascus. Yet among
the upper classes the thought of social intercourse
between the sexes is so repellent that no good Mos-
lem ever willingly alludes to his wife. If he is ab-
solutely forced to speak of her, he apologizes by say-
ing Ajollak! — "May God lift you up!" — that is,
from the degradation of having to hear such a thing
mentioned. He uses the identical expression when
he refers to anything else unfit to be spoken of in
conversation between gentlemen. " Men are supe-
rior to women on account of the qualities with which
God hath gifted the one above the other," said the
Prophet.^ There is no place for female suffrage in
the world of Islam!
If we think of Damascus as the port of the desert,
then its wharves lie along the Meidan. This nar-
row handle of the spoon-shaped city, which stretches
far southward en both sides of the Derb el-Haj or
" Pilgrim Road " to Mecca, is a comparatively mod-
ern quarter; but it is most akin to the wilderness,
and its one long avenue is thronged with Children
3 The Koran, sura 4:38.
E114]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
of the East who have journeyed far to visit what they
firmly believe to be the world's largest and most beau-
tiful city. Long caravans, weary, dusty and heav-
ily laden, are led Into the Meidan by wild-look-
ing, shaggy Bedouins. A little flock of sheep
on Its way to the slaughter-house Is driven by no
gentle shepherd, but a black-bearded giant armed
with rifle and dagger and club. Groaning camels
kneel In the street while Immense sacks of wheat are
untied from their backs and rolled into the vaults of
the grain-merchants. We see here the choicest mares
of Arabia ridden by tall, stalwart Hauran Druses
whose cruel, handsome faces, wrapped around with
flowing headgears of spotless white, look down upon
the hurrying crowds with a haughty contempt.
Yonder group of strangely dressed fellows with red
and white cloths bound about their brows are Chal-
deans from Baghdad. The shops here seem very
poor and shabby In comparison with the bazaars
of the older quarters ; but the simple country folk,
and even the proud Bedouin Arabs, stand spellbound
before the astounding wealth and bewildering tumult
of the great city.
The south end of the INIeidan is known as the Gate
of Allah — though It has no gate ; for it Is here,
amid impressive ceremonies, that there starts the an-
nual Pilgrimage to Mecca.^ Back to the same Bab
* In this effete generation, however, those who have the in-
clination and the money mav take the sacred railway as far
[IIS]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Allah straggle, four months later, a sick and ex-
hausted remnant who have survived the journey to
the holy city, to bear henceforth the envied title of
haj or " pilgrim." Then cholera or plague breaks
out with renewed virulence.
Of the ancient fortifications of Damascus, only a
short, ruinous piece now remains. The city is sur-
rounded, between the houses and the orchards, by
an almost unbroken succession of cemeteries. In the
burying ground of the Orthodox Greeks is the small,
unimpressive tomb of St. George, who is said to have
assisted the Apostle Paiil in his escape over the wall.
This cannot, of course, be the same St. George who
killed the dragon, as the hero of that famous exploit
was not born until nearly three hundred years after
the time of Paul.
In the large Moslem cemeteries at the southeast
of the city are the tombs of Mohammed's muezzin,
two of his nine wives, and his favorite child, Fatima.
Not far from the sepulcher of the Prophet's
daughter, though outside of the cemetery, is buried
an unfortunate Jew who aspired to the hand of
Fatima. The presumptuous lover is said to have
been stoned to death, and his grave is now entirely
hidden under a great heap of the rocks which pass-
as Medina, and for many years the majority of the pilgrims
from outside of Syria have traveled by steamer to Jeddah,
the seaport of Mecca — under the direction of an English tour-
ist agency!
[ii6]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
ing Moslems still cast upon it as a sign of their con-
tempt.
Just outside of Damascus, also, is a sad house of
" life more terrible than death." It was once, they
say, the residence of proud Naaman, and it is still
tenanted by lepers who, alas, have known no Elisha
and washed in no healing Jordan. My Syrian
friends were afraid even to enter its court, but I
talked with eight of the thirty or forty inmates.
Some were voiceless and shapeless — grotesque, hor-
rible caricatures of humanity. But there was still a
" little maid " in the House of Naaman. INIiriam
was a pretty, slender girl, just beginning to burst
into the bloom of early Eastern adolescence. She
seemed the very incarnation of health and youth-
ful joy, and could hardly stop laughing long enough
for me to take her photograph. Yet I could not
laugh with her; for on the rich brown of her cheek
was a tiny pinkish swelling, and close beside her
graceful form crouched an awful figure, loathsome,
unsmiling and unwomanly, like which she would some
day be.
Over the now closed Kisan Gate at the southeast
corner of the city wall is a small, bricked-up win-
dow, through which tradition says that St. Paul was
let down in a basket. Unfortunately for the story,
this part of the fortification dates from the Turkish
occupation. The bend of the wall includes, however,
as it probably has always done, the Jewish Quarter.
[117]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
The Hebrews of Damascus are unique among their
coreligionists of Palestine and Syria in that they
are not comparatively recent immigrants drawn back
to the land of their fathers by Zionist ideals, but are
descended from ancestors who settled here in very an-
cient times. ^ Some of them bear family names which
can be read in the earliest census lists of the Old
Testament. Many of them are very estimable peo-
ple ; but I cannot describe the quarter where they
live, further than to state that it is the most filthy
and malodorous place I have yet visited. I am not
especially squeamish ; I have often, for the sake of
the human interest found there, traveled in Mediter-
ranean steerages and lived in the slums of great cap-
itals ; but after a brief glimpse of the Jewish Quarter
of Damascus, I beat an ignominious retreat. There
are said to be houses there whose interiors are won-
derfully beautiful; but I am not going back to see
them.
There are in all five " quarters " in Damascus :
the Christian and the Jewish at the east, the peasant
market of the Meidan at the south, the suburb of el-
Amara north of the Barada, and the Moslem heart
of the city. The " Street called Straight," « which
5 See further the author's The Real Palestine of To-day,
chapter VII.
6 Acts 9:11. The ancient name has survived, or possibly has
been revived, and the thoroughfare is still called Derb el-
Mustakim or " Straight Street." Its more common name, how-
ever, is Suk et-Tawilek, the " Long Bazaar."
l"8]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
cuts across the center of the bazaar district from
east to west, may roughly be considered the dividing
line between the Jewish and the Christian Quarters.
The flippant jest to the effect that the writer of the
Acts said only that the thoroughfare was " called "
straight, is hardly justified by the facts. This is,
in fact, the straightest, longest street in all Damas-
cus, as well as one of the widest. It was once di-
vided into three parallel roadways by Corinthian col-
onnades, some few remains of which can still be
found. To-da}'^ it is covered for half its length with
a high, arching metal roof, and contains many of
the largest and most modern stores in the city.
Beside tliis busy bazaar the Damascus Moslems
show the tomb of the disciple Ananias, whose memory
they hold in great respect. His reputed residence,
which lies some distance away in the center of the
Christian Quarter, is in charge of Latin monks. All
that remains of the house is a low, cave-like chapel,
twenty or more feet below the street. By itself,
however, this fact furnishes no argument against the
correctness of the location ; for the level of every
crumbling, undrained Syrian city constantly rises
century by century.
Turning now into the Moslem Quarter, we pass
through a tasteful little garden, closely planted with
shade trees, and enter an unpretentious building.
Here rests one of the greatest Moslem heroes and
the most formidable opponent of the Crusaders —
[1 19]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
the invincible Salali ed-Din, whose sonorous name
we Franks pronounce " Saladin." It seems very
strange that the tomb of this valiant champion of
Islam was long unhonored, if not entirely unknown,
by the inhabitants of Damascus, until it was discov-
ered fifty years ago by an American missionary.
The original casket of walnut has since been re-
placed by an exquisitely carved marble sarcopha-
gus, upon which lies a cover of green silk. In a
niche of the wall at the foot of the tomb now hangs
the large bronze wreath given by the German Em-
peror in memory of his visit to Damascus. One
hopes that it was a Christian spirit of forgiveness
which prompted the placing of a Maltese cross on this
tribute to the Crusaders' greatest foeman. But as
soon as the Christian emblem was noticed by the cus-
todian of the tomb, the wreath was removed from its
original position on the sarcophagus.
The one notable ancient building in Damascus is
the great mosque of Nehy Yahya or " St. John," bet-
ter known to the Western world as the Omayyade
Mosque. The site where this stands has probably
always been marked by a place of worship, and the
present structure is some of those immemorial reli-
gious edifices which, so far as we definitely know,
was never built, but only rebuilt. It was doubtless
here that there stood the House of Rimmon in which
Naaman, captain of the host of the king of Syria,
[120]
The street called Straight
•~^"*^&IS^;^-rf?
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
bowed down with his royal masterJ About the year
400 A. D. the then Roman temple was transformed
into the Church of St. John the Baptist. When
Damascus fell into the hands of the Omayyade Dy-
nasty in the seventh century, the Christian house of
worship was converted into a mosque of such mirac-
ulous splendor that the vast multitude of human art-
ists and artisans who labored upon it were later be-
lieved to have been assisted by the genii. All Syria
was ransacked for ancient columns to adorn the new
structure. The pavement was of the most expensive
marbles, the prayer-niches and pulpits were set with
jewels, the carved wooden ceiling was inlaid with pre-
cious metals, and six hundred hanging lamps of solid
gold cast their mellow light upon the exquisite mo-
saic decorations. Since then, the building has been
burned and burned again, and at each restoration
has lost something of its former magnificence. Yet
still it ranks with St. Sophia of Constantinople, the
Dome of the Rock at Jerusalem and the Sacred
IMosque of Mecca, as one of the greatest of Moslem
sanctuaries.
Time would fail to tell of its size and splendor,
its holy impressiveness to Moslem eyes, and the in-
spiring views from its lofty minarets. In its great
court rise the Dome of the Hours and the Dome of
the Fountain, which is believed to mark a point on
7 II Kings 5:18.
£I2I]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
the Pilgrim Route exactly half-way between Con-
stantinople and Mecca, and the Dome of the Treas-
ure, where, hidden jealously from infidel eyes, are
kept the sacred books and the records of the mosque.
Above tower three minarets, which are known as
the Western, the Bride's and — strange as this name
may at first seem — the Minaret of Jesus. The
Moslems, however, believe that 'Isa, as they call Him,
was one of the greatest of the prophets, hardly, if
at all, inferior to Mohammed himself ; ^ and the " Son
of Mary " is held in unusual reverence by the inhab-
itants of Damascus, who say that He will stand upon
this minaret at the Last Judgment.
The mosque itself extends along the entire south-
ern side of the court. I know of no other non-Gothic
structure which seems so well fitted to uplift one's
thoughts in solemn, spiritual worship of the unseen
8 Jesus is frequently mentioned in the Koran as a prophet,
though His divinity is denied and the Christian Trinity is
misunderstood by Mohammed as consisting of the Father, Son
and Virgin Mary. Characteristic passages are: "O Mary!
Verily God announces to thee the Word from Him: his name
shall be Messiah Jesus the Son of Marj^ illustrious in this
world and in the next, and one of those who have near ac-
cess to God. And He will teach him the Book, and the Wis-
dom, and the Law, and the Evangel, and he shall be an apostle
to the Children of Israel" (Sura 3:40, 43). But— "It be-
seemeth not God to beget a son" (Sura 19:36). "God shall
say, O Jesus, Son of Mary, hast thou said unto mankind, Take
me and my mother as two gods, besides God?" (Sura 5:116).
"Jesus is no more than a servant whom We favored" (Sura
43:59).
[122]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
God. Here are no confusing chapels, no gaudy pic-
tures or distracting statues, no gilded altar lit by
smoking candles, no thin blue clouds of slowly rising
incense. All is clean, bright, commodious, and yet
of an appropriate richness and beauty. A careful
inspection shows that the architects used the ground-
plan of a basilica Avith aisles and transepts ; but, in
spite of the two rows of columns and the heavier pil-
lars which support the central " Dome of the Eagle,"
the chief and lasting impression of the mosque is its
ample, unbroken spaciousness.
The building is larger even than the visitor first
thinks: a hundred and fifty paces will hardly take
him from one end of it to the other. Its stone floor
is entirely covered by rugs, whose variegated patterns
have worn to a dull, somber tint. From the lofty
ceiling a multitude of lamps and several gigantic
chandeliers are hung by long chains, so low that
they just clear the head of a tall man. Be-
tween two of the columns stands a lavishly deco-
rated, domed structure which is said to contain the
head of John the Baptist, after whom the mosque
is named. The shrine is about the size of the Chapel
of the Sepulcher at Jerusalem, but it seems smaller
on account of the far larger building which surrounds
it. In the south wall of the mosque — toward
Mecca — are four shallow prayer-niches, and near
the middle of this side stands a tall, graceful pulpit,
whose minute and elaborate inlaj's of silver and ivory
[123]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
and mother-of-pearl make it a marvel of chaste rich-
ness. Unlike all Oriental churches and most other
mosques, there is comparatively little gold used in
the decoration of this great building. The prevailing
colors are cool white and blue and silver, and the
really immense amount of mosaic and inlaid work
seems hardly more than delicate tracery upon the
broad, unbroken surfaces.
Such is the Great Mosque when it is empty, a
fitting place for quiet communion and solemn con-
templation of the vastness and unhurried power of
the Almighty. But when you behold this same
building thronged with strangely garbed, proud, in-
tellectual-looking and intensely devout men —
women are seldom seen in mosques — you feel the
grip of something portentous, irresistible, relent-
less. Long lines of turbaned figures facing toward
the holy city of Arabia, now bending low together
like a field of wheat swept by the summer breeze, now
standing erect with arms outstretched toward Allah
the Merciful and Compassionate, reciting their con-
fession of faith in shrill, quick tones which lose their
individuality in a tremendous momentum of sound
like the wave-beat of the sea — these thousands of
worshipers have firm hold on a great truth, though
it be but a half-truth ; they believe in their religion
with an impregnable, unquestioning confidence, and
they render to its precepts an implicit obedience
such as is not enforced by any Christian sect in the
[124]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
world. They would gladly die for the faith of Is-
lam, and nothing but the strong restraint of Euro-
pean armaments holds them back from again raising
the standard of the Propliet and setting forth on a
new jahad, or holy war, in obedience to the sacred
mandate, " When ye encounter the unbelievers,
strike off their heads until ye have made a great
slaughter among them. ... As for the infidels, let
them perish, and their works shall God bring to
nought. . . . And their dwelling the hell fire ! . . .
Be not faint-hearted then, and invite not the infidels
to peace ! " ®
Be he preacher or statesman, that man is a fool
and blind who does not realize the tremendous vital-
ity and undiminished strength of Mohammedanism,
the power instinct in its half-truths, and the unsleep-
ing menace of its essential antagonism to all the
" infidel " world. Politicall}^ Islam is being rapidly
shorn of its power ; but as a religion — a religion
for which men will cheerfully give their lives —
it has lost no whit of its potency. As the cry of the
muezzin echoes across the earth to-day from Japan
to Gibraltar, there are, not fewer, but many millions
more who obey its call than there were four cen-
turies ago when Mohammed II. hurled his Turkish
regiments against the ramparts of a then Christian
Constantinople.
The Omayyade Mosque, as has been said, was once
»The Koran, sura 47:4, 9, 13, 37.
[125]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
a church. In the marble wall beside its most beauti-
ful prayer-niche is set a large mosaic panel, among
whose intricate geometric traceries there stand out
distinctly three large Maltese crosses. The Moslem
artist apparently copied the design from some ear-
lier decoration without realizing that he was includ-
ing the hated symbol of Christianity. So the wor-
shipers in the Great Mosque who face towards Mecca
face also the Cross !
But the strangest feature of this ancient sanctu-
ary is seldom viewed by travelers ; for it is hard to
reach, and dragomans are averse to taking the neces-
sary trouble. You must go to the Joiners' Bazaar,
which lies just south of the mosque, and borrow a
long ladder. Setting this up in the busy street,
you then climb through a small hole which has been
broken in the wall just under the roof of the covered
bazaar, and step out upon a dusty housetop. Here
is seen a bit of an old stone portal, elaborately
carved with leaves and flowers, and bearing on its
lintel the unexpected Greek inscription, standing out
clearly in capital letters —
THY KINGDOM, O CHRIST, IS AN EVERLASTING KING-
DOM,
AND THY DOMINION ENDURETH THROUGHOUT ALL
GENERATIONS.
It is a startling, suggestive sentence to read upon
[126]
THE RICHES OF DAMASCUS
the wall of the greatest mosque of fanatical Moslem
Damascus. But you have to get up on the house-
tops before you can read the promise that is written
there.
[127]
CHAPTER X
THE DESERT CAPITAL
JUST half-way along the ancient caravan route
which runs northeast from Damascus to the Eu-
phrates River are the ruins of one of the most
remarkable cities of history ; for here, in the midst
of the desert, Palmyra attained a wonderful degree
of wealth and culture, and a military power which
for a time rivaled that of Rome itself.
The road thither is nearly always in the desert.
This is not, however, a level waste of sand ; on the con-
trary, it is often quite a hilly country, where for
hours at a time the traveler passes along narrow
valleys between steep, rugged heights. The trail
has been beaten so hard by the tread of innumerable
caravans that one could ride all the way to Palmyra
on a bicycle. In fact, tourist agents used sometimes
to take parties there by automobile. But this prac-
tice was soon abandoned, because break-downs were
frequent, and there were no garages where repairs
might be made. Our own party traveled on horse-
back, with the heavy luggage carried by several
donkeys and one very lively pack-camel who took ad-
E128]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
vantage of every possible opportunity to run away
across the desert.
However you may go to Palmyra, it is not an
easy journey. In summer the sun is fearfully hot,
and in winter the wilderness wind is piercingly cold ;
the water along the route, while perhaps not actually
unhealthful, is warm and evil-tasting and full of ani-
mal life; unless you carry your own tent you must
sleep in hovels which are filthy and insect-ridden,
and marauding bands of Bedouins hover about, watch-
ing for a chance to rob the luckless traveler.
Two days' journey from Damascus, near the an-
cient and now very squalid village of Karyatein, are
a number of ruins which date from Grjeco-Roman
times. One of these, an extensive sanitarium, is
known as the " Bath of Balkis " — the traditional
name of the Queen of Sheba. Within the enclosure
is a vaulted room with a paved floor, in the middle of
which an opening some ten inches in diameter sends
forth a current of moist, hot, sulphurous air. The
lieat of this room was so suffocating that we could
endure it only for a moment; but the air is believed
to be beneficial for certain diseases, and in Roman
days the place was very popular as a health resort.
From Karyatein the trail strikes across a broad
plain between two mountain ranges. This plain is
about fifty miles, or eighteen camel-hours, long, and
its springs are very few and very poor. The Syrian
Desert shows no vegetation in summer except a low
[129]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
salsolaceous thorn-bush, wliich the Arabs burn for
its soda ash. This plant is called al-koli, whence
comes our word " alkali." It was formerly exten-
sively used in the manufacture of soap ; but on ac-
count of the Importation of cheaper materials it
no longer has any commercial value.
In the middle of the day the heat was Intense. Our
heads were protected from the direct rays of the sun
by thick pith helmets, but the reflection of the cloud-
less sky upon the whitish marl of the plain scorched
our faces and the flies were a torment to all except
the camel, whose thick hide seemed proof against their
attacks.
We had planned to replenish our canteens at Ain
el-Wu*ul ; but the wells there proved to be choked
with locusts, and at Ain el-Beida, which we reached
after fourteen hours In the saddle, we found the wa-
ter so strongly Impregnated with sulphur that it
tasted like a dose of warm medicine. This was the
last spring in the district, however, so we had no
choice but to drink the nauseating stuffs.
A small garrison of Turkish soldiers was stationed
in this out-of-the-way place to protect caravans
against the Bedouins, who roam the desert In the
hope of plundering unwary travelers. These rob-
ber tribes view their nefarious occupation as a legit-
imate business, a feature of desert life which has be-
come, so to speak, legalized by Immemorial custom.
[130]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
They regard the traveler exactly as the hunter does
his prey — a bounty sent by Providence, which it
would be ungrateful for them not to accept. They
will strip their victim to the skin, but are careful
not to take his life unless resistance is offered. They
leave him naked in the wilderness under the protection
of Allah, who must take the responsibility, should the
poor fellow perish from hunger and thirst and ex-
posure.
Early the next morning we saw a band of such
Arab raiders passing across the plain a few miles
west of us, and all day we proceeded with the greatest
caution, for fear they might swoop down upon us.
We afterwards learned that their last foray had been
unsuccessful, and consequently they were returning
to their encampment in an unamiable frame of mind
which would have boded ill to us if we had happened
to cross their path.
Midway between Ain el-Beida and Palmyra, we
made a detour to visit some mountains a little dis-
tance to the left of tlie trail. We found here two
altars about six feet high, bearing bi-lingual inscrip-
tions in Greek and Palmy rcne, wliich related that
they had been erected on Islarch 21 of the year of
Palmyra 4-25 (114< A. D.), and were dedicated to the
" Most High God." Near by could be seen the
broken base of a third monument, but there were no
other indications of human handiwork. We con-
[131]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
eluded that these altars must mark the course of the
ancient highway, which the city was under obligation
to maintain and protect.
The hills on either side of the plain now drew very
much nearer to us and, as we approached the nar-
row pass which leads to the desert city, we saw be-
side the road several strange mortuary towers.
These are as characteristic a feature of the environs
of Palmyra as are the tombs on the Appian Way of
the approach to Rome. Several of the structures
are in a fair state of preservation and show clearly
the original form and use. They were each of three
or four stories, the upper floors being reached by in-
side stairways. Each story consisted of one square
room surrounded by loculi for the reception of the
dead, and before these, or standing within the room,
were statues of the persons entombed in the niches.
The statues either have been badly mutilated by the
Arabs, who have a religious aversion to all such
" idolatrous " representations, or have been de-
stroyed by the vandalism of ignorant dealers in an-
tiquities who, when they found it inconvenient to
carry off whole figures, would break them and smug-
gle away the fragments. Many such heads, arms
and feet have found their way to the coast cities of
Syria, and some few have been sold to European pal-
aces and museums.
Our long journey down the pass ended at a low
saddle between the hills, and we at last looked down
[132]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
upon Palmyra itself. Just below us stretched a
vast, confused mass of broken, reddish stones, from
which rose here and there a group of graceful col-
umns or the massive wall of a ruined temple. Back
of the city were the desert hills; before it lay the
desert plain. Built by a spring at the crossroads of
the wilderness — surely no other of the world's great
capitals had so strange a site as this one !
The thrilling story of Palmyra's rise and fall
has been enshrined in poetry and romance and has
inspired the painter's genius. The city lay, as has
been said, midway between Damascus and the Eu-
phrates, on the most fertile oasis along the ancient
caravan route. It thus early became the center of
the trade between the Mediterranean countries and
the heart of western Asia. If, as Is probable, the
Tadmor or Tamar (Palm City) of the Bible ^ Is
the same as Palmyra, then it was built (or, more
probably, rebuilt) by Solomon; but it does not
again emerge into historical notice until about the
beginning of the Christian era, when Mark Antony
led an unsuccessful expedition against It. Still later,
the Roman emperors recognized Palmyra as an
important ally and buffer-state against the inroads
of the Parthlans. In the third century the Empire
was thrown Into a state of anarchy by continual
contests between rival claimants for the throne; so,
though In theory distant Palmyra was only a " col-
il Kings 9:18.
[133]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
ony," it was in fact given, or better, allowed to as-
sume, a practical independence. Its ruler Oden-
athus II. bore the title of Augustus, which was in-
ferior only to that of Emperor. After his death he
was known as the " King of kings." In reality, he
was the absolute ruler of a sovereign state.
When Valerian had been put to rout by Sapor of
Persia, it was Odenathus who decisively defeated the
invaders, saved the Roman Empire from what seemed
certain overthrow, and incidentally added Mesopo-
tamia to his own royal domains. This king of Pal-
myra would doubtless have proved a formidable ri-
val of the emperor, had not his life been cut short
by assassination in the year 266.
Odenathus was succeeded by his son Vahballathus ;
but the real ruler was his widow Bath Zebina, better
known to the Western world by the Greek form of
her name, Zenobia. If we consider her intellectual
power, administrative ability and personal character,
Zenobia ranks as one of the greatest, if not the gi'eat-
est, of all queens. She was as gifted in military af-
fairs as Semiramis, as strong a ruler as Elizabeth, as
beautiful as her ancestor Cleopatra, more learned
than Catherine, and her private life was never
touched by the breath of calumny.
She is described as of surpassing loveliness, ac-
cording to the Oriental type of beauty, with spark-
ling black eyes, pearly teeth and a commanding pres-
ence. She spoke Greek and Coptic fluently and knew
[134]
%'^Uk
p
iEfaHEav'.
The Triple Gate and the Temple of the Sun
THE DESERT CAPITAL
some Latin, in addition, of course, to her native Ara-
mean. She drew up for her own use an epitome of
history, dehghted in reading Homer and Plato,
and beguiled her leisure by discussing philosophy
with the famous scholar Longinus, whom she per-
suaded to take up a permanent residence at her
court.
Her physical endurance was remarkable. While
her husband was living, she was accustomed to ac-
company him on his hunting expeditions. After the
death of Odenathus, she habitually rode at the head
of her armies on a fiery stallion, from which, however,
she would often dismount, so that she might share the
fatifiTie of the march with the common soldiers. It
is no wonder that such a leader — beautiful, pure,
brave, queenly yet friendly — inspired in her armies
an intense personal loyalty and an unquestioning as-
sent to her most daring plans. Without a murmur
they followed their beloved queen into the fearful
struggle Avith the world-empire.
At the very beginning of her reign, she threw down
the gauntlet to Rome. The sway of Palmyra
already extended over Armenia and Mesopotamia.
An army of 70,000 men now defeated the Roman
legions by the Nile and annexed Egypt. Zenobia
next pushed her victorious banners northward to the
very .shores of tlie Bosphorus. When the newly
elected emperor Aurelian insisted that she should
formally acknowledge his sovereignty, her answer
[135]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
was a bold defiance and a proclamation of herself and
her son as supreme rulers of the whole East.
Aurelian, however, was of different stuff from his
weakling predecessors. In the year 272 he brought
an immense army to Syria, defeated the forces of
Zenobia at Antioch and then, following quickly after
the retreating Palmyrenes, routed them again near
the city of Emesa (modern Horns) and demanded of
Zenobia that she surrender. The haughty answer
was that her enemy had not yet even begun to test
the valor and resources of Palmyra.
So the great araiy of Rome laid siege to the desert
stronghold. The winter and spring wore on, and
Zenobia was still unconquered. Whenever Aurelian
summoned her to capitulate, she responded with an-
other bold defiance. But at last it became clear that
her capital was doomed ; so the queen, escaping the
vigilance of the Roman sentries, slipped away from
the city and fled across the desert toward the Eu-
phrates. Just as she reached the bank of the river,
however, she was overtaken and brought back captive.
Yet her proud spirit remained unbroken. When Au-
relian reproached her for her obstinate and useless
rebellion, she answered with calm dignity that the
course of events had indeed proved his supremacy",
but that the previous emperors had not shown them-
selves to be superior to her, and she had therefore
been justified in opposing their authority.
In spite of the stubborn resistance of the city, Au-
[136]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
relian did not now destroy Palmyra or treat its in-
habitants cruelly. But when he reached the Bos-
phorus on his way back to Rome, word came that
the Palmyrenes had already revolted and had slain
the Roman garrison left by the conqueror. There-
upon he quickly retraced his march and recaptured
the city without difficulty. This time the enraged
emperor ordered the beautiful capital to be razed and
allowed his soldiers to engage in an awful massacre.
Neither women nor children were spared, and when
the avenging army finally left the unhappy city, its
splendid buildings were but heaps of dusty rubbish,
among which hid a miserable remnant of its heart-
broken inhabitants. Thus departed forever the
glory of Palmyra.
The heart of the world has been touched by the
pathetic spectacle of proud, beautiful Zenobia led cap-
tive through the streets of Rome to grace Aurelian's
triumphal procession. Yet the emperor seems to
have treated his captive with unusual consideration
and respect, and he generously bestowed upon her a
large estate near Tivoli. There, in the company of
her two sons, she passed the rest of her days quietly,
though we dare not hope happily.
Palmyra was afterwards partially rebuilt by Dio-
cletian and was fortified b}- Justinian, who made it a
garrison town ; but it never regained its former pros-
perity. The city was overrun by the desert Arabs,
and suffered severely during the conflicts among the
[137]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
rival Moslem conquerors of Syria. In the year 745
it was again destroyed; in the eleventh and twelfth
centuries it suffered from severe earthquakes ; in 1401
it was plundered by the Tartar Tamerlane; in the
sixteenth century it was taken by the Druses, and in
the seventeenth it was razed by the Turks. For
many generations the ancient city on the oasis was
completely unknown to the Western world, though
the wandering Bedouins delighted to talk of the mar-
velous ruins in the midst of the great desert.
Modern Tadmor — for it has taken again its old
Semitic name — is but a wretched Arab hamlet of
perhaps three hundred inhabitants, whose mud-plas-
tered hovels lie in the midst of imposing ruins. Fully
a square mile of the plain is strewn with the debris of
temples, palaces and majestic colonnades. Many col-
umns are still standing, after having braved the wars
and earthquakes of sixteen centuries ; but by far the
greater number of them lie prone on the ground, half
buried by the drifting dust.
The most prominent object that meets the eye is
the Great Temple of Baal, the sun-god, which stands
on a high platform overlooking the plain. Although
Aurelian himself had this edifice restored after the
final subjugation of Palmyra, it has. since been badly
damaged by earthquakes and defaced by the fa-
naticism of Moslem iconoclasts. Yet eight of its tall
fluted columns and pi*actically all of one side-wall
enable us to guess Avhat must have been the beauty of
[138]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
this structure when it was the chief sanctuary of
Zenobia's capital.
Other ruins rise above the intricate mass of fallen
columns which cover the area occupied by the ancient
city. This huge pile of carved stones surmounted
by a broken portico was once the royal palace.
Yonder curving colonnade includes the fragments of
the theater. Smaller temples are recognized here
and there, and on the hillside at the edge of the oasis
can be seen a number of the tall, square towers which
were built as burial-places for the wealthier families.
But the chief architectural glory of ancient Pal-
myra was its far-famed Street of Columns. This im-
posing avenue stretched from the western edge of the
oasis to the Temple of the Sun, a distance of about
three-quarters of a mile. On each side of it was a
continuous, elaborately carved entablature, supported
by nearly four hundred columns of reddish-brown
limestone. About two-thirds of the way up these
columns were corbels which, as the inscriptions still
show, bore statues of prominent citizens. At every
important crossing, whence other colonnaded avenues
stretched to the right and left, four massive granite
pillars supported a vaulted tetrapylan or quadruple
gate.
Over a hundred of the columns of this beautiful
avenue are still standing in their places, and large
portions of the entablature remain unbroken. One
can easily follow the course of the colonnade and
[139]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
understand its relation to adjoining structures; and
the traveler must be sadly lacking in imagination who
cannot sometimes, as the light of the twentieth cen-
tury day grows dimmer, see a dream city of won-
drous, unbroken beauty stand proud again beneath
the calm, still gleaming of the desert stars. Not
shattered stones but well-built homes and busy ba-
zaars spread far outward from the foot of the
mountain; a multitude of graceful pillars stand up-
right around the palaces and temples of a mighty
capital, and between the long lines of statues on the
reddish shafts of the great colonnade a splendid vista
reaches to the triumphal arch and then, through its
triple portals, to where the Temple of the Sun keeps
silent watch over a city of imperial grandeur and
a queen who sees visions of world-wide dominion.
The few hundred residents of Tadmor are of
Arab blood, but the Bedouins of the surrounding
desert consider them a poor, degenerate race, as
doubtless they are. Shortly before we visited the
village, its slieikh had made a wonderful trip to Paris
as guest of a French lady who had previously trav-
eled through the desert under his guidance. It
seemed very strange, in this lonely little hamlet
among the ruins of a vanished people, to hear an Arab
sheikh tell stories — and he loved to tell them —
about his adventures in the most modern of twentieth
century capitals.
We were so fortunate as to be invited to a great
[140]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
feast which the sheikh gave the entire vijlage in honor
of his birthday. Feeding the poor in this wholesale
way is regarded by the Arabs as a deed of great merit.
A slaughtered camel provided the 'piece de resistance
of the banquet. In the center of the room was placed
an enormous tray piled with a mountain of burghul,
or boiled wheat, into which hdd been inserted huge
pieces of camel's meat. A large funnel-shaped de-
pression had been scooped out in the top of the pile
and filled with melted butter. This percolated
through the mass and added the final touch of flavor
to what was — if you liked it — a most rich and de-
licious repast. The anxious villagers were then ad-
mitted in groups of eight or ten. They immediately
squatted around the tray, thrust their hands into the
mass, grasped as much as they could, plunged it into
their mouths and, in order not to lose any time, swal-
lowed it with as little mastication as possible. One
greedy fellow got an unusually large chunk of camel's
meat into his throat and, as a consequence, nearly
choked to death before his comrades relieved him by
strenuous blows upon his back.
In order to visit Hama, we returned from Pal-
myra by another route ; and, as a large part of this
journey was to be across a trackless, waterless and
absolutely uninhabited desert, we engaged a Bedouin
to act as our guide.
Not long after setting out, we passed through a
gap in the hills a quarter of a mile wide, whose sides
[141]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
. . . _ i. I,
were almost as perpendicular as if they had been walls
shaped by the hand of man. The locality is called
Marhat Antar, that is, " Antar's Hitching-place."
Antar is the hero of many a fabulous exploit among
the Arabs, much as was Hercules among the Greeks ;
and the prodigies of valor which he performed in
defense of his tribe are celebrated In song and story.
Among other wonderful feats, he is said to have
leaped his horse across this deep ravine from cliff to
cliff.
The first day's journey homeward brought us to
el-Wesen, a well where we had expected to lay in a
supply of water for the long ride across the arid wil-
derness ; but, to our intense disappointment, we found
the water foul with dead locusts. Our Arabs, how-
ever, swallowed the nauseating fluid with great gusto,
apparently rejoicing that they could obtain both
food and drink in the same mouthful ; and, as it was a
case of necessity, we managed to cook some food with
the water, and even drank a little of it in the form
of very strong tea which disguised somewhat the in-
sect flavor.
The next morning we were ready for the start at
four o'clock and traveled all day through a rolling,
treeless country, which in summer is absolutely bare
of vegetation. At sunset we halted for two hours in
order to rest and feed the animals. Then Ave mounted
again for an all-iu'ght ride; for we did not dare sleep
until we had come to water. There was no trail
[142]
THE DESERT CAPITAL
visible to us, but our guide held steadily on through
the darkness. During the long night we could see
ahead of us his white camel, keeping straight on the
course with no apparent aid save the twinkling stars
above. There was such danger of falling in with one
of the robber tribes which infest this district that we
were warned not to speak above a whisper. The
poor donkeys also received a hint not to bray. Each
of them had a halter looped tightly around his neck.
As soon as an animal was seen to raise his nose in
preparation for an ecstatic song, some one would
quickly tighten the noose and, to our amusement and
the donkey's very evident disgust, the only sound to
issue from his throat would be a thin gurgling whine.
As the night drew on we became so sleepy that we
could hardly sit in the saddles, and before morning
dawned we were burning with thirst. Our guide led
us to another spring. Not only was it full of long-
dead locusts, but a wild pig was wallowing in the
filthy water! Even the Arabs refused to drink from
the pool that had been defiled by the unclean beast.
There was nothing to do but to push on again. We
had been twenty-six hours in the saddle, with nothing
to drink save " locust-tea," when at last we came to a
little village by a running stream of clear, limpid
water — and our desert journey was safely over.
[143]
CHAPTER XI
SOME SALT PEOPIiE
WHENEVER the genial American consul-
general spoke of a certain godly Scotch-
woman who was laboring for the uplift of
Syria, a not irreverent twinkle would come into his
eye as he paraphrased the words of the Gospel —
" She is one of those salt people."
I should like to write a book about the men an(J
women of many races and many ecclesiastical affili-
ations whose lives are bringing a varied savor and
moral asepsis to the land of Syria. It would contain
tales of thrilling romance and brave adventure and a
surprising number of humorous anecdotes, besides the
record of quiet self-devotion which is taken for
granted in all missionary biographies. Such a
lengthy narration falls without the scope of the pres-
ent work. Yet any description of Syria and its
people would be incomplete which did not include at
least a few glimpses of the men and women who, more
than all others, are molding the thought and uplift-
ing the ideals and helping to solve the critical prob-
lems of the land of Lebanon.
[144]
SOME SALT PEOPLE
Earnest faith, noble character and uncomplaining
self-sacrifice are not sufficient equipment for the Syr-
ian missionary. These qualities are indeed needed,
and as a rule are possessed in generous measure.
But he who is to exert any permanent influence for
good upon this proud, sturdy, persistent, quick-witted
race, with its almost cynical proficiency in religious
argumentation, must also be strong of body, alert
of intellect, tactful in social Intercourse, and withal
of an adaptability born not of vacillation but of a
firm hold on the essentials of life.
Among the American missionaries, for Instance,
have been found champion athletes, splendid riders
and marksmen, raconteurs of surprising mental agil-
ity, phenomenal linguists and surgeons of magnificent
daring. One gained world-wide fame as an author
and another as a scientist. A third was the best
Arabic scholar of his century. If not of any century.
Well-known American colleges have called — in vain
— for presidents from Syria ; and an important em-
bassy of the United States was thrice offered to a
misslonarj'', who preferred, however, to keep to his
chosen life-work — at eight hundred dollars a 3'^ear.
These men and women are not laboring here because
there Is no other field of endeavor open to them.
They are very intelligent, competent, refined, brave,
adaptable people, with deep knowledge of many other
things besides religion, a broad vision of the world's
affairs, and almost invariably a keen sense of humor ;
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
people whom it is an education to know and a glad
inspiration to own as friends.
In 1855 a leaky sailing vessel landed a cargo of
rum and missionaries at Beirut. The rum was drunk
up long ago ; but one of the passengers, a tall, wiry
Yankee, is still bubbling over with the joy of life.
When I, met Dr. Bliss again in Syria last summer, he
told me with quiet chuckles of enjoyment how, shortly
after he came to the East, one of the older mission-
aries remarked, " Daniel Bliss isn't practical and his
wife won't live a year in this climate." After nearly
sixty years, the beloved wife is still with him ; and as
for being practical — there stands the great uni-
versity which he has built !
Others helped him from the beginning — wise and
generous philanthropists like William E. Dodge and
Morris K. Jesup in America and the Duke of Argyll
and the Earl of Shaftesbury in Great Britain — but
two thousand alumni scattered over the five conti-
nents will tell you that the Syrian Protestant College
is first and foremost a monument to the foresight and
tact and self-sacrifice and patience and indomitable
enthusiasm of " the Old Doctor."
It was at first very small. A half-century ago
there were but a few pupils gathered in a hired room.
To-day the faculty and administrative officers alone
number nearly four score, and a thousand men and
boys are studying in the English language. The
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SOME SALT PEOPLE
institution is emphatically Christian, but it is as
absolutely non-sectarian as Harvard or Columbia.
Every great religion and sect of the Near East, in-
cluding Mohammedanism and Judaism, is represented
in the student body; and it is hardly an exagger-
ation to say that every student and graduate honors
Daniel Bliss next only to God. As he walks through
the streets of the city, men stop to kiss his hands —
which embarrasses him exceedingly. Perhaps they
love him so much because they are so sure that he
loves them. Orientals are very quick to detect a
stranger's underlying motives, and many a smooth-
speaking philanthropist has been weighed by them
and found wanting. But, during nearly sixty years'
residence in Beirut, Dr. Bliss has lived such a life
that his devotion to Syria and his affectionate inter-
est in Syrians has become a tradition handed down
from father to son.
He has known dark days and fought hard battles,
yet he has never lacked a buoyant optimism, born
partly of trust in God and partly of a strong body
and a healthful mind. He has no patience with dis->
mal, despondent prophets of evil. I never knew a
man with a larger capacity for enjoyment. Good
music always moves him powerfully. He keeps in
touch with the latest European and American peri-
odicals. He likes new books, new songs, new stories
and, especially, new jokes. Active, alert, quick at
repartee, he is passionately fond of the society of
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
young people, and they repay the liking with inter-
est.
A visitor to the college was once speaking of the
attractive horseback rides through the country
around Beirut. " But," he added, as he looked
up at the white-haired president, " I suppose you
don't ride any more." " No," answered Dr. Bliss
with a resigned sigh, " I haven't been on a horse for
— three days ! "
He is getting on in years now, and a recent stoop
has taken a fraction of an inch from his six feet of
spare, hard bone and muscle. A decade ago he re-
signed the presidency of the college, whereupon, to
his great delight, his son was elected to fill the va-
cancy. " See what my boy is doing ! " he exclaims,
as he shows visitors the new buildings which are going
up almost at the rate of one a year. So now the
Old Doctor just walks about the campus which he
loves, and from beneath his shock of thick white hair
beams an irresistibly infectious enjoyment of this
superlatively beautiful world, where anybody who has
the mind can work so hard and get so much fun out
of it.
Did I say that Dr. Bliss is old.? Not he! He
would indignantly deny the imputation. It is true
that he celebrated his ninetieth birthday last August,
but what of that.? He recently expressed an inten-
tion to live to be a hundred. When he was a stalwart
youth of four score I heard him remark, " Let the
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aged people talk about the good old times if they
want to. I have no patience with such old fogies.
/ believe that the world is getting better every day."
Ras Baalbek is a little village some twenty miles
north of the famous temples. Its thousand inhabit-
ants are exceedingly ignorant and bigoted Oriental
Catholics. The only native Protestant family is
that of the school-teacher. There is also one
American citizen — an adopted brother of ours who
accumulated a few hundred dollars in the United
States, learned a few words of English, and then re-
turned to his birthplace, where he keeps the village
khan, which has an evil reputation as a gambling-
house. The Ras is cold in winter, hot in summer,
and filthy at all seasons. The houses are built half of
mud and half of stone ; the streets are filled with un-
mitigated mud. A legion of fierce curs fill the night
with their howling, and rush out of dark corners to
snap at unsuspecting strangers.
It was not an inviting town, but we had heard that
two American ladies were spending the winter there
in missionary work ; so, after we had turned over our
horses to our fellow citizen of the khan and had dug
passably clean collars out of our dusty saddle-bags,
we went to pay them an evening call. Their house
was not hard to find, for it was the finest in all the
village, a commodious mansion with two rooms, one
built of stone and the other of mud.
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
When the door opened for us, we passed immedi-
ately from Syria to America and, under the influence
of the warmth and refinement and hospitable cheer
of the mud-walled room, our sentiments toward Ras
Baalbek underwent a complete and permanent change.
These quiet-speaking, refined ladies did not look at
all like martyrs of the faith. It was hard to realize
that they had immured themselves in the midst of a
dirty, ignorant, fanatical community, and were living
in circumstances of very real hardship and peril. In
the street just outside, the dogs were yelping noisily.
From a neighboring roof a stentorian voice called out
what corresponded to the evening edition of a local
newspaper. The village was informed that the rob-
ber-tribe of Beit Dendish was ravaging the valley,
a prominent resident had been murdered the preced-
ing night, and Abu somebody-or-other had lost one
of his goats. In the bright, warm room, however, we
talked of American friends and American books, and
discussed the probable outcome of the Yale-Prince-
ton game.
After supper we all went to the house of the native
teacher for a little prayer meeting. He was a young
married man with several children, but his housekeep-
ing arrangements were very simple. There was but
one room. The floor was of mud, the ceiling was
mud and straw, the walls were mud and stone. In
one corner was a big pile of mattresses and blankets ;
in another was a small pile of cooking utensils, and
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one wall was hollowed out to serve as a bin for flour.
The teacher's children lay on mattresses spread upon
the bare floor and slept quite soundly through all the
talking and singing.
As there were no other Protestants in the village,
the attendance was naturally small. Two or three
neighbors slipped in quietly and seated themselves by
the door. These Catholics were probably drawn here
merely by curiosity to see the American ladies and
their visitors ; but they sat reverently through the
service and seemed to pay very close attention, though
their dark, inscrutable faces gave no hint as to what
they thought of the proceedings.
It was not an inspiring audience ; but the ladies met
each newcomer with a bright smile and a tactful word
of greeting. We sang strange-sounding words to an
old, familiar tune, after which one of the missionaries
read a few verses from the Bible and added a brief
explanation of their meaning. The second hymn was
set to an Arab air that sounded a little startling
to our Western ears. Then came a short closing
prayer, followed immediately by very lengthy Ori-
ental salutations, as the two strangers were intro-
duced to the people of the Ras.
We should have liked to stay several days and in-
vestigate at first-hand the work among women, of
which we had heard encouraging reports ; but we had
to ride away vavly the next morning. The two mis-
sionaries walked out to the edge of the village with
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
us, where the older lady gave us a ridiculously large
lunch and a pleasant invitation to " call again the
next time you are passing ! " The younger — she
was very young — pretended to weep copiously at our
departure, and wrung bucketfuls of imaginary tears
out of her handkerchief. Then the two cheery fig-
ures went back up the hill to their long, lonely winter
of exile.
On the last Sunday of the Old Year the air was
just crisp enough to make walking an exhilarating
delight. It was one of the days, not infrequent In
the rainy season, when the clouds draw away for a
time, while earth and sky, cleansed and refreshed by
the recent showers, shine with the refulgence of the
rarest mornings of our Western springtime.
As we went out of the old city of Homs, the clear-
ness of the atmosphere was like transparency made
visible. The horizon was as clean-cut as that of the
ocean. Off to the west were the heights inhabited by
the cruel and fanatical Nusairlyeh ; straight in front
of us to the south was the " Entering In of Hamath,"
lying low and narrow between Anti-Lebanon on our
left and the snow-clad summits of highest Lebanon
on our right; while to the east the great wheat-fields
of the " Land of Homs " rolled away over the horizon
to the unseen desert. Our goal, the little village of
Feruzl, shone so white and distinct that It was hard
to realize that it was over an hour's journey away.
SOME SALT PEOPLE
We were four : two Americans, the native pastor of
the Protestant congregation at Horns, and an old, old
man. The pastor was a noble fellow, who shortly
afterward showed heroic mettle during a fearful
cholera epidemic which ravaged his city. The old
man, however, was the more picturesque figure.
He was clothed in baggy trousers of faded blue,
with a large turban on his head and a heavy, form-
less sheepskin mantle over his shoulders ; his bare feet
were thrust into great yellow slippers which flopped
clumsily as he walked. We should once have been
inclined to treat him with some condescension ; but
fortunately we had learned the Oriental lesson of rev-
erence for old age, and we American college grad-
uates soon found there were many things that this
unschooled Syrian mechanic could teach us. What
dignity and quietness marked his speech and manner!
How calm and trustful was his attitude toward the
future! He was one of the first Protestants in this
district, and many were the stories he could tell of
the early days of struggle and persecution. He had
never been rich — I doubt if he earned thirty cents a
day ; yet he spoke as one who had observed much and
reflected much and, although many kinds of trouble
had come to him, his contentment and faith were an
inspiration to us. As we were his guests, we were
of course treated with the greatest friendliness, yet
we could see that in his eyes we were mere boys, who
knew little of the problems of life. And, to tell the
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
truth, before the day was over we were more than
half inclined to agree with him.
Feruzi is one of the few remaining villages in the
country which are not Syrian, but the older Chaldean
in blood and language. Its inhabitants, who number
about a thousand, appear quite dijfferent in feature
as well as dress from the people of the surrounding
district. Their costume is a peculiar one, remark-
able for its warm colors and long, queerly cut trim-
mings. The women remind one of American In-
dians, and the faces of the men are of unusual fierce-
ness. It seemed quite natural that there should be
a Chaldean church here, big and gaudy, yet ugly
and ill-kept, with a much-prized copy of the Scrip-
tures in the Syriac tongue chained to the lectern ; but
we saw no structure resembling a Protestant place of
worship, and among the crowds that followed us curi-
ously about it was impossible to find any one who
looked like a Presbyterian elder.
Yet when we turned into the room set apart for
the use of the Protestant congregation, some of the
wildest and most dangerous-looking men followed.
It was a small place, not over twenty feet square, low
and dark, and quite bare save for a rough matting
on the floor and a chair and a table for the preacher.
In a few minutes it was crowded to suffocation.-
There were over ninety people in the little room.
The men sat on one side and the women on the other ;
but aU of us sat on the floor and were so packed to-
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get her that any change of position was quite impos-
sible, except for a few mothers with babies, who sat
near the door.
Throughout the long Christmas sermon the
cramped audience showed a reverence and an atten-
tiveness that would have shamed many an American
congregation. Suppose that a full-blooded Arab in
his flowing native dress, should enter one of our
churches at home — what a crafting of necks there
would be, and how few persons would be able to recall
the text! We appeared just as outlandish to the
people of P'eruzi ; yet, although we sat at the back of
the room, not a person turned to look at us, except
that the man at my side would always help me find
the place in the hymn book. It was not indifference,
but consideration for the stranger and respect for
the occasion ; and we who had come merely to see an
unusual sight, stayed to worship God with these new
friends, and went away with a fuller realization of the
meaning of Christmas.
After the service was over, however, there could be
no charge of indifference brought against these Chal-
dean villagers — and here too American congre-
gations might well learn from them. The same men
who just now had seemed to ignore our existence came
crowding around to greet us as " brethren." They
inquired about our life at Beirut and our own won-
derful country far beyond the western ocean ; they
expressed a complimentarv surprise at the extent of
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
our travels ; they sympathized tenderly with the home-
sickness which comes so strongly at Christmas-time
and expressed kindly wishes for our dear ones in
America ; they pressed upon us the poor hospitality
that it was in their power to offer. In short, out of
church as in church, the people of Feruzi acted like
the devout, courteous and friendly Christians that
they were.
When at last we had to leave, they all followed us
out to the village limits, and one or two — such is the
pleasant Oriental custom — walked on with us for a
mile on our homeward journey. When the last
strange, dark Chaldean had said " God be with you,
brother ! " we went on in the beautiful calm of even-
ing a little more quietly than we had come, with a
clearer understanding of the brotherhood of man,
and a deeper faith in the teachings of man's great
Brother.
To those who look to see an effective Gospel
brought again to the Near East through a reawak-
ening of the ancient Oriental churches, it is encourag-
ing to know that even now there are prelates who
are earnest, sincere and capable. Such a one was
Butrus Jureijery, the first bishop of Caesarea Phil-
ippi and later the patriarch of the Greek Catholic
Church.
From beginning to end he was a thoroughgoing
Catholic. Indeed, the most striking incident of his
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SOME SALT PEOPLE
carl}' career was an argument with a Protestant Bible-
seller, which developed into a fierce fistic combat, with
the result that the governor of Lebanon exiled both
parties from their native town of Zahleh.
Some years later, after he had been ordained priest,
Butrus journeyed to Rome and presented to the Holy
Father a novel petition.
" We Catholics," he said, " build our church upon
St. Peter, the first bishop, the rock, the holder of the
keys ; and we remember that the apostle's divine com-
mission was given by Christ at Caesarea Philippi on
the slopes of Mount Hermon. How is it that the
original bishopric of the Christian Church, the first
see of Peter, has been so long allowed to remain un-
occupied? " Now Butrus is the Arabic pronuncia-
tion of Peter. So he continued, " Here am I, bear-
ing the very name of the greatest apostle, a native of
the holy land of Lebanon, and ready to take up the
arduous labors which shall reclaim for the church
its first, long neglected bishopric."
The pope was so struck by the force of the argu-
ment that he promised to consecrate the young priest
as bishop of Caesarea, or Banias, as it is now called.
Then the bishop-elect went through France, preach-
ing a kind of new crusade. His idea was novel and
striking, and met with enthusiastic approval. In-
deed, with such eloquence did he appeal for the pro-
posed diocese that he became immensely popular
throughout all France, and gifts for the Bishopric of
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Banias continued to flow in from that country as long
as Butrus lived.
In 1897 the highest ecclesiastics of the Greek Cath-
olic Church gathered in solemn convention at Serba to
elect a new patriarch. Butrus Jureijery was the
people's choice ; but the odds against him seemed over-
whelming. He was too active and too honest for the
hierarchy. The Turkish government was inimical
to him, the powerful Jesuit order fought him, the
papal nuncio objected to his nomination, and the
bishops, almost to a man, opposed him.
For once, however, the Syrian peasants defied their
ecclesiastical lords. Word was sent to the conven-
tion that its members need not return to their dioceses
unless they cast their votes for Butrus. So, in spite
of government, Jesuits, papal nuncio, and the wishes
of the very electors themselves, the enterprising
bishop of Banias became " Patriarch of Antioch,
Jerusalem, Alexandria and the "V^Tiole East," and,
subject to a hardly more than nominal allegiance to
the Vatican, the supreme head of a great church
whose five million adherents are scattered throughout
the Near East from Hungary to Persia and from the
Black Sea to the upper Nile.
He had been elected as the " People's Patriarch,"
and such he remained. A religious and political auto-
crat, with every opportunity and every precedent for
using his office to enrich himself and his famil}^ he
remained poor and honest to the end. This means
SOME SALT PEOPLE
more than the American reader realizes. Through-
out the East, poHtical or ecclesiastical office is sup-
posed to afford a quasi-legitimate means of amassing
wealth. Few princes of the church have ended their
lives in poverty, nor have their families known want.
Yet when Butrus died, his own brother would have
been unable to attend the funeral, if a popular sub-
scription had not raised sufficient money to buy him a
decent coat.
Butrus was progressive as well as honest. His
personal beliefs did not change, but, as he grew older,
he showed a more liberal spirit toward those who
differed with him. He entered into no more fist-
fights with his opponents ; on the contrary, he treated
them with the greatest courtesy. He was the first
Greek Catholic patriarch, for instance, to return the
calls of the Americans in Beirut or to visit the Eng-
lish Mission at Baalbek. Indeed, at one time four of
the seven teachers in his own patriarchal school were
Protestants. A thorough churchman himself, he
learned to fight dissent with its own weapons ; not
anathema, excommunication and seclusion, but edu-
cation, honesty and progress. He presented the spec-
tacle of a man devout of heart and noble of purpose,
but differing with some of the rest of us in his theo-
logical beliefs. Such are honored by all who hold
character above creed.
He was loved by his people and admired and re-
spected by the members of all other conmiunions ; but
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
with his own bishops he had to wage unceasing war-
fare, and the contest drove him into an early grave.
Then they clothed the dead man in his richest
robes, heavy with gold and jewels. They put his
pontifical staff in his hand and set him on his throne
in his palace, and for three days all the world
thronged to see him. There were foreign consuls,
come to do honor to the wise statesman, Protestant
missionaries who esteemed the great Catholic for his
honesty and courage, careless young people drawn
by news of the strange spectacle, and thousands upon
thousands of Butrus' beloved poor, who kissed his
cold hand and prayed to him with absolute confidence
that he would still be their friend and protector.
On a bright, beautiful Easter Sunday I watched
his funeral procession pass through the streets of
Beirut. In a way, this last journey was typical of
his life and character. For the first time in many
long centuries, all sects ignored their differences so
that they might together do honor to the prelate who
was greater than his church. Roman Catholic,
Greek Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Maronite and Ar-
menian marched together; and as the cortege passed
the little Protestant Church, its bell was tolled " in
order that," as its pastor said, " the Turkish soldiers
in the barracks yonder may know that, after all, we
Christians are one,"
First came three companies of Turkish soldiers and
sixty gorgeously dressed consular guards ; then chil-
[i6o]
The dead Patriarch being driven through the
streets of Beirut in his gilded chariot
A summer camp in Lebanon
SOME SALT PEOPLE
dren from the church schools, black-robed Jesuits,
humble mourners from the patriarch's native town
of Zahleh, men bearing wreaths and banners sent from
sister churches ; then more children singing a plain-
tive Arabic hymn. There were present two patri-
archs of other communions, more than a dozen bish-
ops and three hundred and fifty priests, and the
solemn dignity of the procession, so different from the
loud, hysterical wailing at most Syrian funerals,
seemed to impress even the Moslem spectators on the
housetops along the line of march.
Last of all came Butrus himself, not lying within
a black-draped hearse but, as if in triumphal pro-
cession, seated in a gilded chariot hung with bright
banners and wreaths of flowers. The patriarch sat
upright in his gorgeous robes, his staff grasped firmly
in one rigid hand and a crucifix in the other. I stood
within ten feet of the chariot as it passed by, and
there was nothing in the least harrowing in the sight ;
on the contrary, it was wonderfully dignified and im-
pressive. I could hardly realize that the patriarch
was dead ; he sat there so naturally with his long gray
beard resting upon his golden vestments, and his
large, calm features seemed still to be animated by
the vital power of his dauntless spirit.
Afterwards there were long addresses lauding the
character and good deeds of the dead man ; the bish-
ops who had shortened his life said masses for the re-
pose of his soul ; and then, still clothed in his robes of
[i6i]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
state, they placed him on a throne in a vault under
the pavement of the cathedral choir. There he sits in
solemn, lonely grandeur, like some Eastern Barba-
rossa waiting for the time when the spirit of the
Christ shall be re-born in the church which he so
loved, for which in his own earnest way he so un-
ceasingly labored, and for which at last he died.
U62]
CHAPTER XII
THE CEDARS OF THE LOED
WE had watered our horses, eaten the last
olive and the last scrap of dusty bread that
remained in the bottom of our saddle-bags,
and were shivering and impatient and irritable ; for
a sea of beautiful but chilling clouds was rolling
around us, and as yet there was no sound of the far-
off tinkle that would herald the approach of the be-
lated mule-train which bore our tents and food.
Then suddenly, just as the sun was setting, a
friendly breeze swept the clouds down into the
valleys ; and in a moment fatigue, vexation and hun-
ger were forgotten, as we contemplated one of the
most beautiful panoramas in all Lebanon. Before us
the mountain sloped quickly to a precipice whose foot
lay unseen, thousands of feet below, while just across
the gorge, so steep and lofty and apparently so near
as almost to be oppressive, towered Jebel el-Arz —
the Cedar Mountain. The whole range was bathed
in a wonderful golden hue, more brilliant yet more
ethereal than the alpenglow of Switzerland. Soon
the gold faded into blue, and that to a Tyrian
purple, a color so royal that those who have not seen
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SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
cannot believe, so deep and strange that, to those who
have seen, it seems almost unearthly. One must gaze
and gaze in a vain attempt to fathom its unsearch-
able depths, until the purple darkens into black, and
the watcher stands silent, as if the setting sun had for
a moment swung open the door that leads into the
eternal.
" Where are the cedars ? " I asked a member of our
party who had visited them before.
" Over there, directly in front of you ! "
" But the mountain seems to be one bare, empty
mass of rock I "
" Look closer — yonder — where I am pointing ! "
Yes, there they are, apparently hung against the
face of the rock in such a precarious situation that
a loosened cone would drop clear of the little ledge
and fall all the way to the bottom of the valley. You
see just a tiny patch of dark green against the moun-
tainside — as big as the palm of your hand — no, as
large as a finger nail — like a speck on the lens of a
field-glass. Such is the first view of the group of
ancient trees which are still known as the " Cedars of
the Lord."
While we were engrossed with the mountain scen-
ery, the baggage-train at last appeared. Then came
that most satisf3angly luxurious experience, a camp
dinner after a long, wearisome day in the saddle.
We supplemented our canned food by purchases made
at the near-by village of Diman, where we procured
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THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
delicious grapes, tomatoes, fresh milk, and new-laid
eggs at six cents a dozen.
After dinner a young Maronite priest came up
from the convent to visit us. Father Abdullah
proved to be the private secretary of the patri-
arch, who has a summer residence at Diman. It was
an unanticipated experience for us to meet, high up
in this wild mountain region, a Syrian priest who,
after graduating from the Maronite College at Bei-
rut, had spent seven years in advanced Latin studies
at Paris and had then read a rchsolo gy at the British
Museum. Father Abdullah's English, however, was
a broken reed; so most of our conversation was car-
ried on in French, with an occasional lapse into Ar-
abic. He said that his long residence at Paris had
naturally brought him into closest sympathy with
the French, but that nevertheless he considered the
English superior in practicality and energy. He
had recently made an independent archsological
study of the surrounding district, and entertained us
by telling some of his own theories concerning the
very early history of Lebanon. Later in the evening,
as a further evidence of his friendship, he sent us a
great basket of fresh figs.
While we were enjoying this delicious gift, the
fog rolled up again from the west and filled the gorge
until we looked across the billowing surface of a milk-
white sea, above which only a few of the loftiest
peaks appeared as lonely islands. Such was the mar-
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
velous purity of the air at this altitude that even at
night the sky was still a deep blue and the full
moon touched the rocks with delicate tints of orange
and rose, while, to complete the soft beauty of the
scene, a double lunar rainbow swung its cold silvery
arcs above the summit of the Cedar Mountain.
Then the wind freshened, the rising fog-waves
overflowed from the valleys and the penetrating chill
of our cloud-bound mountainside drove us to the
shelter of our tents.
When we reached the cedar grove the next noon,
we found that our first impressions had been wrong
concerning everything except the supreme beauty of
the mountain setting. Far from being situated upon
a narrow shelf on a perilously steep slope, the trees
are securely enthroned amid surroundings of massive
grandeur. The watershed of Lebanon here curves
around so that it encloses a tremendous natural am-
phitheater about twelve miles long and over six thou-
sand feet in depth, with its inner, concave side facing
the Mediterranean. High up on this crescent-shaped
slope, the Kadisha or " Holy '* River issues from a
deep cave and falls to the bottom of the valley in a
succession of beautiful cascades. Around the amphi-
theater run a succession of curving ledges, like ti-
tanic balconies, which near the bottom are small and
fertile, but which become longer and broader and
more barren toward the wind-swept summits. The
highest of these, which lies nearly seven thousand feet
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THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
above the sea, is eight miles long and at its widest
three miles across. Though it is really broken
by hundreds of hills, these are dwarfed into insig-
nificance by the great peaks which rise behind them,
and in a distant view the surface of the plateau seems
perfectly level.
Here, amid surroundings of rare beauty and yet
of solemn loneliness, is set the royal throne of the
king of trees. Just back of the cedars the mountains
rise to an elevation of over 11,000 feet. Around
them is vast emptiness and silence. No other trees
grow on this chill, wind-swept height. No under-
brush springs up among their rugged trunks. The
last cultivated fields stop just below, and the nearest
village is out of sight and sound, far down the moun-
tainside. A few goatherds lead their flocks to a
near-by spring that is fed from the snow-pockets of
the Cedar Mountain ; but at night the wolves can be
heard howling hungrily, and by the end of the year
the snow drifts deep around the old trees and the
passes are closed for the winter.
Yet downward from the cedars is a prospect of
warm, fertile beauty. You look deep into the dark
green valley of the Kadisha, and then across the
lower mountains to where, thirty miles away, the
" great sea in front of Lebanon " ^ rises high up into
the sky ; and during one memorable week in the sum-
mer you can see, a hundred and fifty miles across the
1 Joshua 9:1.
[167]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Mediterranean, the jagged mountain peaks of the
island of Cyprus outlined sharp against the red disk
of the setting sun.
When the Old Testament writers wished to de-
scribe that which was consummately beautiful, rich,
strong, proud and enduring, they drew their similes
from Hermon and Lebanon, and the climax of the
** glory of Lebanon " they found in the " cedars of
God." ^ Would they express the full perfection of
that which was choice,^ excellent,* goodly ,° high and
lifted up,® they pictured " a cedar in Lebanon with
fair branches, and with a forest-like shade. . . . Its
stature was exalted above all of the trees of the field;
and its boughs were multiplied, and its branches be-
came long. . . . All the birds of the heavens made
their nests in its boughs ; and under its branches did
all the beasts of the field bring forth their young.
. . . Thus was it fair in its greatness, in the length
of its branches . . . nor was any tree in the garden
of God like unto it for beauty." "^
The cedar of Lebanon must not be confounded with
the various smaller trees which in America are known
as " cedars." It is own brother to the great deodar
or god-tree of the Himalayas and the forest giants on
the high slopes of the Atlas, Taurus and Amanus
ranges. In the days when Hiram of Tyre provided
2 Psalm 80:10, b Ezekiel 17:23.
3 Jeremiah 22:7. « Isaiah 2:13.
* Song of Songs 5:15, 7 Ezekiel 31 :3f,
[i68]
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
timber for Solomon's Temple, large cedar woods
spread over Lebanon, and apparently grew also on the
sides of Anti-Lebanon and Hermon; but generation
after generation these trees became fewer in number.
Even in the sixth century, Justinian found it difficult
to secure sufficiently large beams for the Church of the
Virgin (now the Mosque el-Aksa) in Jerusalem.
jMany efforts were made to preserve the trees, which
had long been considered of a peculiar sanctity.
High up on the rocky sides of Lebanon, Hadrian
carved his imperial command that the groves should
be left untouched. Modem Maronite patriarchs
have excommunicated those who cut down the " trees
of God." But the roving goats who nibble the tender
young saplings have regarded neither emperor nor
patriarch. Now there is little timber of any kind in
Syria, and the profiles of the mountains cut sharp
against the sky. Of the cedars there remain only
seven groups, the finest of which is the one we are
visiting, above the village of Beshcrreh.
A former governor of Lebanon, Rustum Pasha,
protected this grove against roving animals by a
well-built stone wall, and in recent years the number
of young trees has consequently slightly increased.
But the really old cedars grow fewer century by cen-
tury ; indeed, young and old together, their number is
pathetically few. Twelve of the very largest are usu-
ally counted as the patriarchs of the grove. The
mountaineers say that these had their origin when
[169]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Christ and the eleven faithful Disciples once visited
Lebanon, and each stuck his staff into the earth,
where it took root and became an undying cedar. In
all there are about four hundred trees. A local tra-
dition says that they can never be counted twice alike ;
and, in fact, I have yet to find two travelers who
agree as to the number. We need not, however,
seek a miraculous explanation of this peculiar lack
of unanimity. It is doubtless due to the fact
that several trunks will grow so close together that
no one can say whether they should be considered as
a single tree, or as two or more. When no fewer
than seven trunks almost touch at the bottom, it is
quite impossible to tell whether they sprang originally
from one seed or from many.
Yet though the cedars are few in number, these few
are kingly trees. Their height is never more than a
hundred feet; but some have trunks over forty feet
around, and mighty, wide-spreading limbs which
cover a circle two or three hundred feet in circumfer-
ence. Those which have been unhindered in their
growth are tall and symmetrical ; others are gnarled
and knotted, with room for the Swiss Family Robin-
son to keep house in their great forks. Some years
ago a monk lived in a hollow of one of the trunks.
When you climb a little way into a cedar and look out
over the whorl of horizontal branches, the upper sur-
face seems as smooth and soft as a rug, upon which
have apparently fallen the uplifted cones. Indeed,
[170]
The source of the Kadisha River. The rocks in the back-
ground mark the edge of the plateau on which are sit-
uated the Cedars of Lebanon
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
the close-growing foliage will bear you almost as well
as a carpeted floor. Eighty feet above the ground,
I have thrown myself carelessly down, not upon a
bough, but upon just the network of interlacing twigs,
and rested as securely as if I had been lying in an
enormous hammock.
iNIost of the cedars are crowded so closely that
their growth has been very irregular. Sometimes
two branches from different trees nib against
each other until the bark is broken ; then the exuding
sap cements them together, and in the course of years
they grow into each other so that you cannot tell
where one tree ends and the other begins. Just over
my tent two such Siamese Twins were joined by a
common bough a foot in diameter. Near by I found
three trees thus united, and another traveler reports
having seen no fewer than four connected by a single
horizontal branch which apparently drew its sap from
all of the parent and foster-parent trunks. Even
more remarkable is a cedar which has been burned
completely through near the ground, and yet draws
so much sap from an adjoining tree that its upper
branches continue to bear considerable foliage.
The wood is slightly aromatic, hard, very close-
grained, and takes a high polish. It literally never
rots. The most striking characteristic of the cedars
is their almost incredible vitality. The oldest of all
are gnarled and twisted, but they have the rough
strength of muscle-bound giants. Each year new
[171]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
cones rise above the broad, green branches, and
the balsamic juice flows fresh from every break
in the bark. In the words of the Psalmist, they still
bring forth fruit in old age, and are full of sap and
green. " There is not, and never has been, a rotten
cedar. The wood is incorruptible. The imperish-
able cedar remains untouched by rot or insect."
This is not the extravagant statement of a hurried
tourist, but the sober judgment of the late Dr.
George E. Post, who was recognized as the world's
greatest authority on Syrian botany. The whole
side of one of the largest trees has been torn away
by lightning, but the barkless trunk is as hard as
ever. The single enemy feared by a full-grown ce-
dar is the thunderbolt. " The voice of Jehovah
. . . breaketh in pieces the cedars of Lebanon." ^
One or two trees felled by this power have lain pros-
trate for a generation ; but their wood will still turn
the edge of a penknife. Here and there, visitors
to the grove have stripped off a bit of bark and in-
scribed their names on the exposed wood. " Mar-
tin, 1769," " Girandin, 1791 "— the edges of the
letters are as hard and clear-cut as if they had been
carved last season.
It is no wonder that the ancients chose this im-
perishable timber for their temples. The cedar roof
of the sanctuary of Diana of Ephesus is said to have
remained unrotted for four hundred years, while the
8 Psalm 29:5.
[172]
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
beams of the Temple of Apollo at Utica lasted al-
most twelve centuries.
Probably the wood is so enduring because it grows
so slowly. When you are told that a slender shoot,
hardly shoulder-high, is ten or twelve years old, you
begin to speculate as to the probable age of the pa-
triarchs of the grove. On a broken branch only
thirty inches in diameter I once, with the aid of a
magnifying glass, counted 577 rings — 577 years.
And some of the cedars are forty feet and over in
girth ! Certainly these must be a thousand years old,
probably two thousand. We are tempted to believe
that one or two of the most venerable Avere saplings
w^hen the axemen of Hiram came cutting cedar logs
for the Temple at Jerusalem. The most rugged and
weather-beaten of them all, called the Guardian — ■
surely this hoary giant of the forest has lived
through all the ages since Solomon, and from his
lofty throne on Lebanon has calmly looked down over
Syria and the Great Sea Avhilo Jew and Assyrian,
Persian and Egyptian, Greek and Roman, Arab and
Crusader and Turk, have labored and fought and
sinned and died for the possession of this goodly
land !
The trees rise on half a dozen little knolls quite
near to the edge of the plateau ; and within a few
minutes' climb are a number of tall, steeple-like rocks
which, through the erosion of the softer stone, have
become almost entirely cut off from the main mass
[173]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
of the mountain. One such group, known to Amer-
ican residents of Syria as the " Cathedral Rocks," is
reached by following a knife-edge ridge far out over
the valley. There is barely room for a narrow
foot-path along the top, and a misstep would mean a
fall of many hundred feet ; but at its western end the
ridge broadens out into a group of slender, tower-
like cliffs. When you stand on the farthest of these
there is a feeling of spaciousness and isolation as if
you were indeed upon the loftiest pinnacle of some
gigantic cathedral, though no man-built spire towers
to such a dizzy height.
A half-hour of hard and, in places, dangerous
climbing down from the cedars brings one to where
the Kadisha River bursts from a cave in the
rock. Like many another cavern in Lebanon, this
is of great depth and has never been thoroughly
explored. We contented ourselves with penetrating
it a few hundred feet ; for it was impossible to avoid
slipping into the stream now and then, and the water,
fresh from the snow-pockets on the summits above,
was only twelve degrees above the freezing-point. The
entrance is barely ten feet in diameter, but the
cave soon divides into several branches, one of
which is beautifully adorned with translucent stalac-
tites and, about seventy yards from the mouth, leads
up to a large rock-chamber. The river flows out from
the mountain with great rapidity and, just below
the source, leaps over a precipice in a white water-
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
fall forty feet liigh, so delicate and lacelike in its
beauty that it is known as the " Bridal Veil."
Farther down the valley, the monastery of Kanobin
hugs the side of a cliff four hundred feet above the
river-bed. This is literally " the monastery "
(Greek, koinohion), and is one of the oldest in the
land. It is said to have been founded over sixteen
hundred years ago by the Roman emperor Theodo-
sius the Great, and for centuries it has been the
nominal seat of the Maronite patriarchs. In 1829,
Asad esh-Shidiak, the first Protestant martyr of
Lebanon, was walled up in a near-by cave. This un-
fortunate man was chained to the rock by his Maron-
ite persecutors and about his neck was fastened one
end of a long rope which hung out through an open-
ing in the cave by the roadside. Each Catholic who
passed by gave the rope a vicious tug, and Shidiak
soon died of torture and starvation.
The valley of the Holy River is full of old
hermits' caves ; but these are now untenanted, and
we found no monks even at the great convent. In a
parallel valley, however, is a monastery which is
still crowded and busy. Deir Keshaya boasts a
printing-press, a good library and a staff of a hun-
dred monks. This religious retreat has the most
secluded and beautiful situation imaginable. It lies
in a very narrow canon hemmed in by sheer rocks.
Yet, though surrounded by nature in its most grand
and forbidding aspects, the narrow strip of culti-
[175]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
vated land along the river bank is rich with verdure,
a veritable Garden of the Lord.
The monastery not only spreads along the face of
the cKff, but penetrates far into the mountain.
WTiat you see of it from without is hardly more than
the fa9ade of a huge, rambling structure whose prin-
cipal part consists of natural caves and chambers
rudely cut in the native rock. Through a little
wooden door we were admitted to the largest cavern,
where we saw, hanging from staples set securely into
its walls, a number of great, cruel chains. People
who are possessed of devils are fastened here by
the neck and ankles, and during the night an angel
comes and drives away the demon. The treatment
has never been known to fail ; for if the morning finds
the sufferer still uncured, that merely shows that he
did not have a devil after all, but was just an ordi-
nary lunatic for whom the monastery did not prom-
ise relief.
Back of the cedars, there are also many fascinating
excursions. The ranges of Syria being geologically
" old " mountains which are worn and rounded, you
can, by taking a somewhat circuitous route, reach al-
most any summit on horseback, but it is much more
fun to go straight up the steepest slopes on foot.
About 2,500 feet above the grove is a line of gently
rolling plateaus whose stones have been broken and
smoothed by millenniums of snow and ice. You see
acre after acre entirely covered with clean, flat
[176]
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
fragments which measure from one to five inches in
length. Viewed from a distance, their appearance is
exactly like that of the soft surface of a wheat-field.
The only vegetable life consists of tiny bunches of a
low, hardy plant with wooly gray-green leaves. We
saw one little butterfly fluttering about lonesomely in
the vast desolation.
Sheltered from sun and wind just under the high-
est ridges are snow-pockets — great, funnel-shaped
depressions which during the hottest summer send
down their moisture through the mountain mass to
the cave-born rivers of western Syria. One who
has not been there would never suspect how cold
it can be in mid-summer on these higher slopes
of Lebanon. The direct rays of the sun are,
of course, very hot, and the wise traveler protects
his head by a pith helmet. Yet the gloomy gorges
are always chilly, the wind is biting, and the nights
are positively cold. When tenting among the ce-
dars, I slept regularly under heavy blankets, and
once or twice reached down in the middle of the night
and pulled over me the rug which lay beside my cot.
The first time we climbed the mountain back of our
camp, the wind was so cold and penetrating that we
could remain only a few minutes on the summit,
though we wore the heaviest of sweaters and had
handkerchiefs tied over our faces.
At another ascent, however, we were more fortu-
nate, for we found only a slight breeze blowing on
[177]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
the summit. The " Back of the Stick," as the na-
tives call this highest ridge of Lebanon, affords
a view over the top of all Syria. Northward
stretches the longsuccessionof rounded summits, down
to the left of which can be seen the white houses of
the seaport of Tripoli. To the south are other lofty
peaks, though all are lower than ours. Jebel Sun-
nin, which seems so mighty when viewed from the
harbor of Beirut, now lies far below us. Mount Her-
mon rises still majestic seventy miles away, yet even
the topmost peak of great Hermon is not so high as
the spot on which we stand. To the east, across the
long, broad valley of the Bika', rises the parallel
range of Anti-Lebanon. Westward the magnificent
amphitheater wliich v/e have come to think of as pe-
culiarly our own opens out to where the Mediter-
ranean, like a sheet of beaten gold, seems to slope far
up to the azure sky.
Yet, after a while, we turned from this wonderful
panorama to indulge in childish play. With a crow-
bar brought for the purpose, we dislodged large
rocks from the summit and sent them spinning down
the eastern side of the mountain. Some of them must
have weighed several tons, and they tumbled down
the slope with tremendous momentum. The first
thousand feet they almost took at a bound; then,
reaching a more gentle decline, they would spin along
on their edges. Now they would strike some in-
equality and, leaping a hundred yards, land amid a
[178]
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
cloud of scattering stones ; now they would burst in
mid-air from centrifugal force, with a noise like a
cannon shot ; now some very large stone, surviving
the perils of the descent, would arrive at the base
of our peak and, on the apparently level plateau be-
low, would very slowly roll and roll and roll as if it
possessed some motive power of its own. Several
days later we met a wandering shepherd who told us
that, while dozing beneath the shade of a cliff far
down the mountainside, he had been suddenly awak-
ened by a terrific cannonading and had sat there for
hours in trembling wonderment at the demoniac
forces which were tumbling Mount Lebanon down
over his head.
One evening we strolled out to the edge of our
plateau and saw the whole countryside a-twinkle with
lights. It was the anniversary of the Finding of the
True Cross. When St. Helena, mother of Constan-
tine the Great, discovered the precious relic sixteen
hundred years ago, beacons prepared in anticipation
of the success of the search were lighted and the glad
news was thus flashed from Jerusalem to the emperor
at Constantinople. In commemoration of that joy-
ous event, annual signal fires still burn along the land
of Lebanon. Far down in black gorges we saw the
lights flash out. North and south of us, unseen
villages on the liillsides kindled their beacons.
Higher up, in wild pine forests, the lonely charcoal-
burners made their camp-fires blaze brighter ; and
[179]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
even on the bare, bleak summits there shone here and
there tiny gleams of light. Amid the solemn quiet
of our mountain solitude, we watched the beacons
flash out around us and below us and above, until all
Lebanon seemed starred with the bright memorials of
the Cross which this old, old land, through long cen-
turies of oppression and ignorance and bigotry, has
never quite forgot.
We spent a month in the cedar grove, and never
had a dull day. At dawn we could look out of the
tent to where the green branches framed a charming
bit of blue, distant sea. After breakfast the studious
man would climb up into his favorite fork and en-
sconce himself there with pen and ink and paper and
books and cushions. The adventurous man would
scramble up to the topmost bough of some lofty tree
and stretch out on its soft twigs for a sun-bath. The
lazy man would curl up against a comfortable root,
to smoke and dream away the morning hours.
Sketching and photographing and mountain climbs
were interspersed with unsuccessful hunting expedi-
tions and aimless conversations with Maronite priests
who had come up to visit their little rustic chapel in
the grove. After supper came the camp-fire, with its
cozy sparkle and its friendly confidences and the black
background of the forest all around. Then, by eight
o'clock at the latest, we snuggled into our blankets
and, in the crisp, balsam-scented air, slept the clock
around. Sometimes the full moon shone so brightly
Ii8o]
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
that the whole mountain would take on a soft silver
glow, against which colors could be distinguished
almost as well as by day. Now and then there would
be a cold, foggy morning; but the trees kept out the
mists and, although a solid wall of white surrounded
us, within the grove it was clear and dry and home-
like.
The shelter, the support, the background, the in-
spiration of all the camp life, were the great, solemn
trees. After a while you come to love them, or rather
to reverence them. They are so large, so old; they
have such marked individuality. The cedars are
regal rather than beautiful. Rough and knotted
and few in number, at first sight they are a little dis-
appointing; but, like the mountains around them,
they become more impressive day by day. These
thousand-year-old trees seem to stand aloof from the
hurry and bustle of the twentieth century, as though
they were absorbed in thoughts of earlier, and per-
haps wiser, days. After you have lived for a time
beneath their shade, their solemn magnificence begins
to quiet your spirit; and when the glorious moon-
light floods the mountain and casts black shadows
do^vn the deep gorges that drop away to the distant
sea, It Is easy to behold in the witching light the pic-
ture that these ancient trees saw in the long ago.
Dark groves of cedars nestle once more In the valleys
and sweep over the mountain-tops In great waves of
green ; a stronger peasantry speaks a different tongue
[i8i]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
in the fields below that are brighter and the orchards
that are heavier with fruit ; and from the depths of
the moon-painted forest there comes the ring of ten
thousand axes that are hewing down the choicest
trunks for the Temple of the Lord.
Then the vision fades, and with a sense of personal
loss and a regret that is almost anger, you look out
again from under the dark branches of the little
grove to the bleak, bare mountainside, and the wind in
the topmost boughs seems to sing the lament of
Zechariah —
" Wail, O fir tree.
For the cedar is fallen.
Because the glorious ones are destroyed:
Wail, O ye oaks of Bashan,
For the strong forest is come down." *
Yet still some glorious ones of the strong forest
rise proudly on their throne in Lebanon. This tree,
so beautiful that it is pictured on the seal of the col-
lege at Beirut, has been called the Symmetrical Cedar.
These many trunks, apparently springing from a
single root, we know as the Seven Sisters. Those
two that stand side by side without the wall at a little
distance from the main group, are the Sentinels. On
a hillside are St. John and St. James, immense,
fatherly trees with trunks forty-five feet in circum-
ference and gigantic forks in which a dozen people
9 Zechariah ll:3f.
[182]
Guaidiaii, ilie oldest Cedar of Lebanon
The six great columns and the Temple of Bacchus
THE CEDARS OF THE LORD
could sit together. Then there is the Guardian, old-
est and largest of all, its great trunk twisted and
gnarled by struggles against the storms of ages, the
names which famous travelers carved a century ago
not 3'et covered by its slowly growing bark. But the
knotted, wrinkled, lightning-scarred giant is crowned
by a garland of evergreen, and the venerable tree,
which perhaps heard the sound of Hiram's axemen,
may still be standing proudly erect when the achieve-
ments of our own century are dimmed in the ancient
past.
" The Cedars of the Lord " — we understand now
why the peasantry of Lebanon call them thus. It
has become our own name for them too. Long be-
fore we ride downward from their royal solitude to
the Great Sea and the great busy world, we have
come to think of them as in deed and truth,
" The trees of Jehovah . . .
The cedars of Lebanon^ which He hath planted."
I183]
CHAPTER XIII
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
THE most impressive of all the ancient temples
of Syria can now be reached by a comfort-
able railway journey from either Damascus
or Beirut. But this way the traveler comes upon
the ruins too quickly to appreciate adequately their
splendid situation and marvelous size. I shall al-
ways be thankful that, on my first visit to Baalbek, I
approached it very slowly as I rode from our camp
among the cedars of Lebanon, For the longer you
look at these temples and the greater the distance
from which you behold them, the more fully do you
realize that whatever race first built a shrine here
chose the spot which, of all their land, had the
largest, noblest setting for a sanctuary; and the
better also do you understand that these struc-
tures had to be made unique in their grandeur be-
cause anything less imposing would have seemed
paltry in comparison with the surrounding glories of
nature.
Where the Bika' is highest and widest and most
fertile, on a foothill of Anti-Lebanon which projects
far enough to give a commanding outlook in all
[184]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
directions, stands Baalbek, the City of the Sun-
God. Far northward Hollow Syria leads to the
open wheat-lands of Horns and Hama ; at the south
it sinks gently to the foot of Hermon. Back
of the city are the peaks of the Eastern Mountains,
and across the level valley rise the highest summits
of Lebanon. It is no wonder that the approaching
traveler finds it difficult at first to realize the
magnitude of the ruins. Any work of man would
be dwarfed by the magnificent heights which look
down upon Baalbek. But what an inspiration these
same mountains must have been to the unknown archi-
tect who conceived the daring grandeur of the Tem-
ple of the Sun !
When I viewed the ruins from the summit of the
highest mountain of Lebanon, their columns did not
seem especially large. Then I remembered that there
are few structures whose details can be distinguished
at all from a point twenty miles away. After de-
scending many thousand feet through rocky ravines
and dry water-courses, we came out on the Bika' and
again saw the temples. They now appeared of mod-
erate size and very near. It was hard to believe that
a few minutes' canter would not bring us to them
and, as we rode across the monotonous level of the
valley, it seemed as if each new mile would surely be
the last. When I had traveled for an hour straight
toward their slender columns and found them ap-
parently as far away as ever, I began to understand
[185]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
that these temples must be of a bigness beyond any-
thing that I had ever seen before.
While we were looking toward Mount Hermon,
whose conical summit rose from behind the southern
horizon, the hot, shimmering air began to arrange
itself in horizontal layers of varying density, and
before our wondering eyes there grew a picture of
cool and shady comfort. Four or five miles away a
grove of date-palms stood beside a beautiful blue lake
in which were a number of little islands, each with its
cluster of bushes or its group of trees ; and, just be-
yond the islands, the rippling water laved the steep
sides of Mount Hermon. It was a cheering sight
for the tired traveler. This was no freak of an
imagination crazed by privation and exhaustion.
Everything was as clear-cut and distinct as were the
temples of Baalbek. We knew very well that there
was no lake in the Bika' and that Mount Hermon
was not within fifty miles of where it seemed to be;
yet we agreed upon every detail of the wonderful
mirage. We counted the wooded islets ; we pointed
out to each other the beauty of the shrubbery and
the symmetry of the waving palm trees ; we remarked
upon the sharp reflections of the branches in the
clear water. Then, while we looked, the islands be-
gan to swim around, the bushes shrank together, the
trees shifted their positions, the blue water faded
into a misty white, old Hermon receded far into the
background — and soon all that was left were two
[i86]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
or three dusty palms bowing listlessly over the dry,
brown earth in the sizzling heat,
I had always thought of Baalbek as a magnificent
ruin in the midst of a wilderness ; at best, I expected
to find huddled beneath the temples a tiny hamlet
like that at Palmyra. But as we came nearer to the
spot of green about the columns, it grew larger and
larger, and finally opened out into a prosperous-
looking town of five thousand inhabitants besides, as
we discovered later, a garrison of Turkish soldiers
and a host of summer visitors. The bazaars wer6
busy and noisy, and the half-dozen hotels were filled
with the cream of Syrian societ}^ Gay young prodi-
gals from Beirut clattered recklessly along on blooded
mares, or lolled back in rickety barouches, talking
French to pretty girls whose silk dresses were so
nearly correct that our masculine eyes could not de-
tect just what was the matter with them.
The German archsologists who were then exca-
vating among the ruins told us that the hotel where
we had planned to lodge was incorrectly constructed
and would surely fall down some day, and advised
us to take rooms at the more substantial building
where they were dwelling. Here we found one
of those typically cosmopolitan companies which add
so much variety to life in Syria. Besides the Ger-
mans, there was a suave little Turkish gentleman, a
very amiable Armenian lady, a radiantly beautiful
Hungarian, an English " baroness " who did not ex-
[187]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
plain where she had obtained this obsolete title, and
a couple of those innocently daring American maiden-
ladies who blunder unprotected through foreign coun-
tries whose languages they do not understand, and
yet somehow never seem to get into serious trouble.
Everybody but the American ladies spoke French,
so we had several delightful evenings together. With
the Armenian we discussed the recent massacres —
when the Turkish gentleman was not by. The Hun-
garian lady discoursed heatedly upon the thesis that
the Magyars are not subjects but allies of the Aus-
trian Empire. The baroness told us thrilling tales
of social and political intrigues on three continents,
some of which we believed. The Germans interpreted
enonnous drawings of their excavations, and my trav-
eling companion and I sang negro songs to the ac-
companiment of a tiny, wheezy melodion,
Baalbek is deservedly popular as a summer resort ;
for its elevation is nearly four thousand feet and,
even in August, there are few uncomfortably warm
days. In fact, the city has long borne the reputa-
tion of being the coolest in Syria. The Arab geog-
rapher Mukadassi, who lived in the tenth century,
wrote that " among the sayings of the people it is
related how, when men asked of the cold, ' Where
shall we find thee.? ' it was answered, ' In the Belka,' ^
and when they further said, ' But if we meet thee not
1 East of the Jordan, between Jabbok and Arnon rivers.
[i88]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
there?' then the cold answered, 'Verily, in Baalbek
is my home.' "
The most attractive features of the cit}', next to its
refreshing climate, are its unusual number of shaded
streets and its copious supply of pure, cold water.
Both of these are somewhat rare in Syria. In this
land of generous orchards, there are very few shade-
trees ; and during the long, rainless summer the flow
of the springs is usually husbanded with great care.
In Baalbek, however, the water is allowed to run every-
where in almost reckless abundance. It gushes out
of a score of fountains ; it drives the mills, waters the
gardens and rushes alongside the streets in swift,
clear streams. Our own supply for drinking was
drawn from one of the springs ; but we were told that
even the water in the deep roadside gutters was clean
and healthful.
On account of the natural advantages of its situa-
tion, it is probable that Baalbek has been in existence
ever since the time when men first began to build
cities. The sub-structures of the acropolis are lit-
erally prehistoric, that is, they antedate anything
that we know at all certainly about the history of
the place. In the Book of Joshua - we find three
references to " Baal-gad in the valley (Hebrew,
Bikd) of Lebanon," but the identification of this
place with Baalbek is far from certain. The Arab
2 Joshua 11:17, 12:7, 13:5.
[189]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
geographers of the twelfth century, who were tre-
mendously impressed by the grandeur of the ruins
and the fertility of the surrounding district, believed
that the larger temple was built by Solomon, who
also had a magnificent palace here, and that the city
was given by him as a dowry to Balkis, Queen of
Sheba. Benjamin of Tudela, a Spanish rabbi who
visited Syria in the year 1163, wrote that when Solo-
mon was laying the heaviest stones, he invoked the
assistance of the genii.
It may possibly be that the foundations are even
older than the time of Solomon ; but there is no his-
torical notice of the city which goes back of the Ro-
man period. Coins of the first century A. D. indicate
that it was then a colony of the Empire and was
known as Heliopolis, the Greek translation of the
Semitic name Baalbek.
During the early centuries of our era Heliop-
olis became exceedingly prosperous and, indeed,
famous. The emperor Antoninus Pius is said to
have erected here a temple to Jupiter which was one
of the wonders of the world, and coins struck in
Sj^ria about 200 A. D., in the reign of Septimius
Severus, bear the representations of two temples.
During this period the worship of Baal became popu-
lar far beyond the borders of Syria, and the Semitic
sun-god Avas identified with the Roman Jupiter. The
empress of Severus was daughter of a priest of Baal
at Homs, only sixty miles north of Baalbek. When
[190]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
her nephew Varius ^ usurped the throne, he assumed
the new imperial title of " High Priest of the Sun-
God " and erected a temple to that deity on the Pala-
tine Hill. At Baalbek itself the worship was accom-
panied by licentious orgies until the conversion of
Constantino the Great, who abolished these iniquitous
practices, erected a church in the Great Court of the
Temple of the Sun, and consecrated a bishop to rule
over the still heathen inhabitants of the new see.
Since then, the history of Baalbek has been par-
allel to that of every other stronghold in Syria, a
history of battles and sieges and massacres and a long
succession of conquerors with little in common except
their cruelty. When the Arabs captured the city in
the seventh century, they converted the whole temple
area into a fortress whose strategic position, over-
looking the Bika* and close to the great caravan
routes, enabled it to play an important part in the
wars of the ^Middle Ages. Many a great army has
battered at this citadel. Iconoclastic Moslems have
done all they could to deface its carvings and statues,
earthquake after earthquake has shaken the temples,
scores of buildings in the present town have been con-
structed from materials taken from the acropolis, col-
3 "Varius Avitus Bassanius, who took the name Heliogabalus
upon his appointment as high priest of the sun-god, was
born at Horns, A. D. 204, usurped the imperial throne at the
death of his cousin Caracalla in 218 and, after a brief reign
marked chiefly by its infamous debaucheries, was murdered
by the Prastorians in 223.
[191]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
umns and cornices have been robbed of the iron clasps
that held their stones together, and for many years the
Great Court was choked with the slowly accumulating
debris of a squalid village which lay within its pro-
tecting walls.
Yet neither iconoclast nor sapper, artilleryman nor
peasant, has been able to destroy the majesty of the
temples of Baalbek. The malice of the image-
breaker cannot tumble down thousand-ton building-
blocks and grows weary in the effort to deface cor-
nices eighty feet above him. Mosques and khans,
barracks and castle walls have been built out of this
immense quarry of ready-cut stone, yet the supply
seems hardly diminished. The cannonballs of the
Middle Ages fell back harmless before twenty feet
of solid masonry, and only God's earthquake has been
able to shake the massive foundations of the Temple
of Baal.
The old walls of the acropolis provide many a
tempting place for an adventurous clamber. Be-
side the main gateway at the eastern end you can
ascend a winding stairway, half-choked with rub-
bish; then comes some hard climbing over broken
portions of the upper fortifications and a bit of care-
ful stepping around a narrow ledge on the outside of
a turret. But it is well worth a little exertion and
risk to reach the top of this majestic portal, where
you can lie lazily among great piles of broken carv-
[192]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
ings and watch the long shadows of the setting sun
creep over what have been called " the most beautiful
mass of ruins that man has ever seen and the like of
which he will never behold again."
Our superlative expressions are prostituted to such
base uses that it is hard to find words to picture ade-
quately these colossal structures. To say that they
are most majestic, gigantic, stupendous, is only to
trifle with terms. The mere partition-wall beneath
us is nineteen feet thick, a single stone in one of the
gate-towers is twenty-five feet long, and the en-
trance stairwa}^, now half-buried beneath an orchard,
is a hundred and fifty feet wide. Everything about
us is immense ; yet the parts are so nicely propor-
tioned that at first their size does not seem very un-
usual. The German archaeologists warned me against
jumping carelessly from one stone to another. " The
distance between them will be greater than you think.",
You have to revise your ordinary judgments of per-
spective before you can realize that yonder little
alcove in the Great Court is as big as an ordinary
church, or can make j^ourself believe that the out-
lines of the Temple of the Sun enclose an area as
large as that of Westminster Abbey, or can break
the habit of thinking condescendingly of the " Smaller
Temple " — which is one of the finest Graeco-Roman
edifices in existence. Suddenly you see the acropolis
in its real immensity and beauty, and then you under-
[193]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
The Acropolis of Baalbek— 1, The Propylaea; 2, The Fore-
court; 3, The Court of the Altar; 4, The Basilica of Constantine;
5, The Great Altar of the Temple; 6, Byzantine Baths; 7, The
Temple of Jupiter-Baal; 8, The Six Standing Columns; 9, The
Great Stones in the Foundation Wall; 10, The Temple of
Bacchus.
stand how the most scholarly of all Syrian travelers
could say that the temples of Baalbek " are like those
of Athens in lightness, but far surpass them in vast-
[194]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
ness ; tlicy arc vast and massive like those of Thebes,
but far excel them in airiness and grace." *
From the entrance stairway at the east to the
Great Temple at the west, the arrangement is grandly
cumulative. Each succeeding architectural feature
is larger and more beautiful than that which pre-
cedes it. As you view the acropolis from above the
portico, j'our eye is drawn on and on, past the sym-
metrical forecourt and the great Court of the Altar,
under delicately chiseled arches and graceful cornices,
through the Triple Gate and the temple portal, up to
the culmination of it all — the six tall columns which
still rise above the ruins of the Temple of the Sun.
No ! this is not yet the climax of the glories of Baal-
bek ; for beyond those slender shafts the hoary head
of Lebanon, towering far into the sky, at once dwarfs
and dignifies, enslaves and ennobles, the puny mass-
iveness of the sanctuary of Baal.
The Great Court, or " Court of the Altar," is lit-
tered with sculptured stones — pedestals of statues,
inscriptions in Greek and Latin, broken columns,
curbs of old wells and fragments of fallen cornices.
On each side of the few remains of the Basilica of
Constantine are Roman baths, which are carved in a
graceful, profuse manner, very like those at Nimes in
southern France.
The sculptors seem to have worked in three shifts.
The first were mere stone-cutters who removed sur-
*Edw. Robinson, Biblical Researches in Palestine, III. 517.
[195]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
plus material, shaping a hemisphere where a head
was to appear in bas-relief, and indicating the rough
outlines of leaves and flowers. The second set of
workmen carved the design more carefully, leaving it
for the third, the master-artists, to give the final
touches. In the temple baths we can see traces of
the work of all three classes. One part of the carv-
ing is finished to the last crinkle of a rose leaf; an-
other is but roughly blocked out by a mere artisan.
It seems that the full plan for the courts was never
carried to completion. Some think, indeed, that the
only portion of the Great Temple itself which was
finished was the peristyle.
A little to the southwest of the Court of the Altar
stands the Temple of Bacchus. This suffers the fate
of great men whose fame is eclipsed by that of their
greater brothers. Yet this " Smaller Temple," as it
is commonly called, is larger than the Parthenon, and
is surpassed in the beauty of its architecture by no
other similar edifice outside of Athens. It was orig-
inally surrounded by forty-two columns, each fifty-
two and a half feet in height. A number of these
have been overthrown by earthquakes and cannon-
balls, but on the north side the peristyle is still nearly
perfect. One of the columns on the south side has
fallen against the temple, yet, although made up of
three drums, the parts are held so firmly together by
iron clamps that it has broken several stones of the
wall without itself coming to pieces.
[196]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
Intricate stone-cut tracery runs riot over the
double frieze, the fluted half-columns and niches, and
the variously shaped panels which form the roof of
the peristyle. There are flowers and fruits and
leaves, vines and grapes and garlands, men and
women, gods and goddesses, satyrs and nymphs, and
the youthful god himself, surrounded by laughing
bacchantes. Most elaborate of all is the carving
around the lofty central portal, which is probably
more exquisite in detail than anything else of its kind
in existence. The door-posts are forty feet high,
yet they are chiseled with such a delicacy that they
seem almost as light as a filigree of Damascus silver-
Avork. Upon the under side of the lintel a great
eagle holds a staff in its claws, while from its beak
droop long garlands of flowers, the ends of which are
held by genii.
Of the Temple of Jupiter-Baal, which was the prin-
cipal structure of the acropolis, only six columns are
now standing; but these six can be seen far up and
down the BIka'. As you stand beside them and look
up, the columns appear of tremendous bulk, as Indeed
they are ; yet their proportions are so elegant that at
a little distance they seem almost frail. When you
view them from many miles away, they appear as
tenuous as the strings of a colossal harp, awaiting
the touch of ^olus himself to set them vibrating in
tremendous harmony. Now the columns, crossed by
the cornice above, resemble a titanic gate ready to
[197]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
swing open to the Garden of the Gods ; now they are
seen in profile, Hke a giant finger pointing upward.
When the evening glow falls upon them, the stone
takes on a yellow^ish tinge and the slender shafts look
like a golden grating which some old master has put
between the panels of his daring picture of brazen
clouds and dazzling mountaintops. Even the long
colonnades of Palmj'ra lack something of the pecul-
iar grandeur of the six columns of Baalbek, as they
stand guard over the ruined Temple of Baal, with
nothing to rival their towering grandeur save the
eternal peaks of Lebanon.
Yet, though these columns are the most beautiful
things in Baalbek, they are not its greatest mai*vel ;
for in the foundations of the acropolis are stones so
immense that we can only guess at the means em-
ployed to quarry and transport and lift into place
these huge masses of rock.
Parallel to the north side of the Temple of the Sun
is an outer wall ten feet thick and composed of nine
stones, each thirty feet long and thirteen feet high ;
in the west foundation-wall of the acropolis are seven
other stones of equal size, not lying upon the ground
but set on lower tiers ; and just above these is a series
of three stones which are probably the largest ever
handled by man.
These tremendous three were so renowned in an-
cient times that the temple above them came to be
known as the Trilithan. They are each thirteen feet
[198]
THE GIANT STONES OF BAALBEK
high, probably ten feet thick, and their lengths are
respectively sixty-three, sixty-three and a half, and
sixty-four feet. It is hard to realize their true di-
mensions, however ; for these enormous blocks are set
into the wall twenty-three feet above the ground, and
are fitted together so closely that you can hardly in-
sert the edge of a penknife between them. Look at
them as long as you will, you can never fully see their
bigness. Yet if only one were taken out of the wall,
a space would be left large enough to contain a Pull-
man sleeping-car. Each stone, though it seems only
of fitting size for this noble acropolis, weighs as much
as man}^ a coastwise steamer. If it were cut up into
building blocks a foot thick, it would provide enough
material to face a row of apartment houses two hun-
dred feet long and six stories high. If it were sawn
into flag-stones an inch thick, it would make a pave-
ment three feet wide and over six miles in length.
The quarry from which was taken the material for
the temples is about three-quarters of a mile from the
acropolis. Here lies a still larger stone which, on
account of some imperfection, was never completely
separated from the mother rock. B}" this time we
have no breath left for exclamations ; hyperbole would
be impossible ; the simple measurements are astound-
ing enough. The Hajr el-HiblaJ' as it is called, is
thirteen feet wide, fourteen feet high, seventy-one
5 Literally, " the stone of the pregnant woman." Bearing in
mind the meaning of the popular name, the reader will easily
[199]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
feet long, and would weigh at least a thousand tons.
It does not arouse our wonderment, however, as much
as do those other stones, only a little smaller, whicK
were actually finished and built into the wall.
How, indeed, were such huge blocks moved from the
quarry to the acropolis? How were they lifted into
place and fitted so nicely together? The question
has not been answered to our entire satisfaction.
We must acknowledge that those old Syrians — if
they were Syrians — could perform feats of en-
gineering that would challenge the science of the
present day. The most plausible guess is that a long
incline was built all the way from the quarry to the
temple wall and then, through a prodigal expenditure
of time and labor, the blocks were moved slowly up
the regular slope, a fraction of an inch at a time, by
balancing them back and forth on wooden rollers.
But it is almost as easy to believe with the natives
that there were giants in those days, and that the
great stone which is still in the quarry was being
carried along under her arm by a young woman,
when she heard her baby cry, and so dropped her
burden and left it there to be the wonderment of us
puny folk.
understand just how and why I have modified the frank. Ori-
ental form of the story which follows.
[200]
CHAPTER XIV
H A M A T H THE GREAT
NOW that the French railway system has at last
extended its operations into northern Syria,
the old cities of Horns and Hama will doubt-
less soon lose much of their naivete and Oriental
color and become filled with dragomans who speak a
dozen languages and shopkeepers who have a dozen
prices for the unwary tourist. Up to the present,
however, the district has been little touched by West-
ern civilization, and we saw there a picture of Syrian
life and customs, and especially of unspoiled Syrian
politeness, not to be found in more accessible cities.
We traveled from the seaport of Tripoli to Horns
in a big yellow diligence, drawn by two horses and
three mules, and driven by a couple of unkempt
brigands who, in the absence of a sufficiently long
whip, urged on their steeds by throwing heavy stones
taken from a well-filled bushel-basket which was kept
under the seat. The Syrians ordinarily throw like
girls, and with as good an aim ; but these men, while
the coach was rolling and creaking like a ship in a
storm, could strike the left ear of the farthest mule
[201]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
without any danger either to its own skull or to the
other animals.
This ugly, noisy conveyance, which took us sixty
miles in eleven hours, seemed quite out of place as a
part of the Sj^-ian landscape, and we noticed that it
surprised the rest of the country as much as it
had us. The camels were the most astonished.
Along the road would be seen approaching a distant
caravan, led by a white-bearded old man riding a
ridiculously small donkey. Behind him, the long line
of great animals walked and chewed in a slow rhythm,
and looked out upon the world with a solemn gaze
which made us flippant sons of a young republic feel
like crawling away somewhere and hiding for a few
thousand years until we had acquired a little mellow-
ness.
But our mules represented the spirit of modem
progress ; on a down grade, it was progress at the
dizzying speed of ten miles an hour. Now, viewed
from the front, a camel looks like an overgrown
chicken, and when he is startled he acts just
like a flustered fowl. So we had the interesting ex-
perience of frightening half to death thirty of these
great, clumsy creatures, who scampered and scat-
tered over the road in every direction except the right
one, ran into one another and knocked off carefully
balanced loads, and tied up the connecting ropes into
intricate knots which would challenge the genius of an
Alexander to untangle, while a dozen or so stalwart
[202]
HAMATH THE GREAT
Arabs cursed us with a choice of vituperation not to
be found in our more stolid West — cursed with
a long, deep, comprehensive curse which included us
and our fathers, the diligence's father and mother and
distant relatives, and laid special emphasis upon the
awful destruction which was sure to overtake the
religion of the off mule.
About an hour's journey from Tripoli there is a
very old pool of sacred fish, references to which
are found in works of travel as early as the sixth
century. According to the present tradition, the
souls of soldiers who have died fighting for Islam are
reincarnated in these fish. The Moslems accordingly
hold them in the gi-eatest reverence; and if anj^one,
particularly if a Christian, should harm them, he
would almost certainly be torn to pieces by an infuri-
ated mob. While thousands of men and Avomen in
the neighboring villages may be suffering the pangs
of hunger, wealthy zealots will buy great piles of
bread for the fish ; often, indeed, they provide in their
wills for a certain number of loaves to be thrown
each week into the pool. The fish, which are about
a foot in length, are fat and bloated as a consequence
of this over-feeding, and are unspeakably ugl}^ in
form and color. We estimated that there were be-
tween four and five thousand of them in the little
pool; and it was a sight not soon to be forgotten, as
they crowded after the crumbs which we threw them,
pushing and fighting so that they were often forced
[203]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
quite out of their element and for many square yards
the water was completely hidden by the loathsome,
wriggling mass.
After eight hours' drive along the valley that leads
from Tripoli into the interior, a sudden turn of the
road brought into full view the great plain of north-
eastern Syria. We were entering this through a
break in its western wall, the pass which divides
Lebanon from the Nusairiyeh Range, inhabited by its
cruel, half-pagan tribes. At our right, the southern
margin of the plain was distinctly marked by the
abrupt ending of Anti-Lebanon and of the nearer
Bika'. The place where the central valley of Syria
opens suddenly to the broad expanse of wheat country
was known of old as the " Entering In of Hamath,"
and was the northernmost point to which the King-
dom of Israel ever extended.^ At the left, low hills
rise slowly up to the horizon ; in front, the plain
rolls out to the unseen desert and the ruined palaces
of Palmyra.
1 Many eminent scholars, however, follow Edward Robin-
son (Biblical Researches, III. 568) in identifying the " En-
tering In of Hamath" (Judges 3:3, I Kings 8:65, etc.), not
with the northern end of the Bika', but with the east-and-
west valley between the Lebanon and Nusairiyeh ranges,
through which we have just come. While I incline more and
more toward the view given in the text above, the question must
be decided by one's feeling as to which would be the more
striking and appropriate landmark, rather than by any di-
rect evidence. The territory included would be practically the
same in either case.
[204]
HAMATH THE GREAT
It is one of the world's greatest battlefields that
lies below us, so vast that Watex'loo and Gettysburg
might be fought in different corners and hardly see
the smoke of each other's cannonading. But no mod-
ern conflict has engaged such hosts as were drawn up
here in martial array. They came from the desert
capital, came up from Palestine and Egypt by way
of the Entering In of Hamath, came as we have come,
through the narrow pass leading from the Mediter-
ranean. Back at the beginning of wars, the trained
armies of Egypt fought the Hittite and the Chaldean
here. After Babylonian and Persian, Jew and
Syrian and Greek had become mere subjects of im-
perial Rome, it was here that Zenobia, the beautiful,
talented, ambitious queen of Palm^^ra, received her
crushing defeat at the hands of Aurelian. Here,
centuries later. Crusader and Saracen battled for
the land the}' both called Holy ; here chivalrous Tan-
cred led his armies and valiant Saladin won decisive
victories.
Two things stand out from the general brownness
of the plain. Just below us is the dazzling white
acropolis of Horns, and ten miles to the south is the
deep blue of the lake once called Qadesh, the " Holy,"
Avhich was dammed up in its little valley by a long-
vanished race and worshiped before history began.
We saw the bright reflection from the smooth sides
of the mound long before we could distinguish the
town lying beneath it, and for a while we were puzzled
[205]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
as to what it was — this huge, sj-mmetrical object
rising so abruptly from the great, flat plain, and
seeming doubly immense because of the clear air and
the absence of any neighboring elevation with which
to compare its height. The acropolis is, indeed, no
insignificant structure. The people of Homs believe
it to be entirely artificial, and its appearance is in
favor of such an hypothesis. The circular hill is
almost a thousand feet in diameter and its platform
stands a hundred feet above the plain. The sides rise
so steeply that it would be impossible to scale them
without a ladder; and, to make the summit abso-
lutely inaccessible to an enemy, all the outer slope of
the mound formerly bore a slippery coating of small,
square basalt blocks. At present the platform is
reached by a long, winding path; but even this is so
steep as to be almost dangerous in places. During
the Crusades the fortress of Homs was held alter-
nately by the Christians and the Saracens ; and it has
suffered from so many assaults that nothing of the old
castle now remains save a few fragments of tumbling
wall and a ruined gateway.
As we came down into the plain and had a nearer
view of the acropolis, we seemed to distinguish a mul-
titude of houses beneath it; but the difficulty of get-
ting a true perspective had deceived us. The city
lay beyond and lower; what we now saw were not
houses but gi-aves. It was a great metropolis of the
dead; thousands and tens of thousands of mounds
[206]
HAMATH THE GREAT
were crowded close together at the foot of the for-
tress-hill. Some few were surmounted by stone cano-
pies; but most of them were simple Moslem graves,
ranged in long ranks looking toward the sacred city
of Mecca, with one stone at the head and another at
the foot, for the two angels to rest upon as they
weigh the good and evil deeds of the dead. As one
approaches nearly every great Syrian city, this is the
order of interest and impressiveness ; first the ruins of
former power and grandeur, then the graves of those
who trusted in that power and gloried in that gran-
deur, last the modem town with its poverty and
squalor and ignorance.
In Greek times " Emesa," as it was then called,
was a place of no little size and importance, and dur-
ing the Roman era one of its sons wore the imperial
purple - and one of its daughters became empress.^
The modern city contains some sixty thousand inhab-
itants, the large majority of whom are Moslems. The
Christians are nearly all Orthodox " Greeks," but
there is also a tiny Protestant community. We were
guests of the native pastor, and later it lent a new
impressiveness to our memories of Homs when we
learned that our host was stabbed the very week after
our visit. Fortunately, however, the wound was not
a mortal one. The city is the market-place of Ard
Horns, " the Land of Homs," and its bazaars are
2 Heliogabalus. See foot-note, page 191.
3 Julia Domna, wife of Septimius Severus.
[207]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
crowded with fellahtn from all the country round
about. The chief industry is the weaving of silks.
The citizens claim that there are five thousand looms,
and it is easy to believe this statement; as we walked
along the streets, which were well-paved and cleaner
than those of most Syrian towns, there were whole
blocks where every house resounded with the whirring
of wheels and the clicking of shuttles.
The home of our host, like almost every other resi-
dence in Homs, opened on a court which was sepa-
rated from the street by a ten-foot wall. We rose
at three o'clock the next morning to catch the dili-
gence for* Hama, said good-by all around in the
lengthy Arabic fashion — and discovered that the
key to the one gate was lost. Thereupon arose great
bustle and confusion ; the women rushed around look-
ing everywhere for the missing key, while the worthy
pastor brought a clumsy ladder to help us over the
wall. But just as we were preparing to carry our
heavy luggage up the ladder, the key was found, and
a hard run brought us to the diligence with half a
minute to spare.
This second coach had only two mules and one
horse, and was a much smaller affair than that which
had brought us from Tripoli. Although the driver
was a Moslem to whom alcoholic beverages are strictly
forbidden, he was considerably more than half-drunk.
He had neglected to fasten the harness properly and,
while we were rattling down a steep hill, the tangle of
[208]
HAMATH THE GREAT
straps and strings dropped off one beast and dangled
under his heels. Then, as soon as the harness was
repaired, our driver let his reins fall among the flying
hoofs. He took these mishaps very philosophically ;
much more so, to tell the truth, than we did. Doubt-
less he pitied us Western infidels for our evident
nervousness and lack of faith. Suppose that the
coach should indeed upset — it would be the will of
Allah, and who were we to object!
We had but one fellow-traveler, a fat old Moslem
wearing the turban of a liaj who has made the pil-
grimage to Mecca. He was a most companionable
fellow who insisted upon explaining to us all the points
of interest along the road; and the fact that his ex-
planations were usually wrong did not in the least de-
tract from our enjoyment of his company. Every
time the diligence stopped — ■ and, with our drunken
driver and worn-out harness, this was quite often —
the Haj would laboriously descend, spread out his
handkerchief upon some clean, level spot alongside the
road, and turn toward Mecca to recite his prayers.
He must have been a very holy man.
The road from Homs to Hama inins almost due
north, a straight white line cutting across the green
fields. It is one of the* oldest highways in the world.
For at least five thousand years caravans have been
passing along it just as we saw them — long strings
of slow-moving camels laden with brightly colored
bags of wheat. One could almost imagine that
[209]
- SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
Pharaoh was again calling down the corn of Hamath
to fill his granaries, against the impending seven years
of famine. But even here the old things are passing.
Just beyond the line of camels, a longer line of peas-
ant women, with dirty blue dresses kilted above their
knee?, were carrying upon their heads baskets of
earth and stone for the road-bed of the new French
railway. The carriage road is French, too ; and a
very good road it is. We noticed some men repair-
ing it with a most ingenious roller. A huge rounded
stone, drawn by two oxen, had its axle prolonged by
a twenty-foot pole, at the end of which a bare-legged
Syrian was fastened to balance the contrivance. If
the stone had chanced to topple over, the spectacle
of the captive road-maker dangling at the top of the
slender flag-stafF would have been well worth watch-
ing.
All along the journey we were reminded of the fact
that this was not only the East, but the old, old East.
The soil is fertile, but the very wheat-fields are dif-
ferent from ours. Only a few yards in width, they
are often of prodigious length ; the thin green
strips sometimes stretch away until in the far dis-
tance they are lost over the curve of the treeless
plain. At one place the road is cut through a hill
honeycombed with rock-tombs, which the Haj said
were of Jewish origin. Every now and then we
passed a tell, or great hemispherical mound built up
of the rubbish of dozens of ruined towns which, one
[210]
HAMATH THE GREAT
after the other, were built upon the same site.
Even as late as Roman times, this was a densely
populated and prosperous district. There is now
no timber available for building purposes, and so in
a number of villages the houses are constructed with
conical roofs of stone. Wliere the rock happens to
be of a reddish tinge, the windowless structures re-
mind one of nothing so much as a collection of Indian
wigwams ; where the stone is white, as at Tell Biseh,
it glitters and sparkles like a city cut out of loaf
sugar.
" Hamath the Great," as the prophet Amos called
it, is still the most important city between Damascus
and Aleppo. It is larger than Homs and seems
more prosperous, but the difference between the two
is not marked enough to prevent considerable mutual
jealousy. Hama is especially busy in the early
morning, when the market squares are crowded with
kneeling camels and the bazaars are bright with
newly opened rolls of rich silks, which may be bought
at ridiculously low prices — if the purchaser knows
how to bargain.
You see the same types in other Syrian cities —
rough camel-drivers, veiled ladies, ragged peasants,
underfed soldiers, Moslem wise men and reverend
Arab sheikhs. Along tourist-beaten routes, how-
ever, the picture lacks somewhat of perfection be-
cause of the Hotel d'Orient or Hotel Victoria in the
background, and, just as vou have warmed to an en-
[211]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
thusiastic interest in the bright scenes of Oriental life,
a pert young fellow in French clothes is apt to ask
you into his shop or offer to guide you through the
bazaars at ten francs a day. But while we were in
Hama there was, so far as I know, no other Frank in
the city, only one other pair of European trousers,
and but two natives who spoke any English. There
is not even a resident missionary, and on the rare
occasions when American ladies visit the city, they
adopt the local costume, veil and all, in order to avoid
annoying curiosity.
The citizens enjoyed us fully as much as we did
them. Everywhere we went we were followed by a
train of a dozen or two, and when we stopped to look
at anything the crowd threatened to interfere with
traffic — not that this would have seemed a serious
offense to the Oriental mind! They were so inter-
ested in our every movement that I could never get
room to use my camera until my friend would walk
a little way off with an intense expression on his face
and draw the cortege after him. Yet these people
were not in the least noisy or rude and — I almost
hesitate to make such a startling statement about a
Syrian city — I do not remember being once asked
for bakhsheesh.
The inhabitants of Hama bear the reputation of
being very proud and fanatical; but we did not find
them so. We stayed with a young physician, a re-
cent graduate of the college at Beirut; and in the
[212]
HAMATH THE GREAT
evening a number of his friends dropped in to see us.
As our own supply of Arabic was not at that time
equal to the demands of a long conversation, we es-
sayed one or two gymnastic tricks, only to be im-
mediately outdone by our Syrian acquaintances.
Then the ice was broken, and we settled down to a
long evening of rough games, which always ended in
somebody having his hand slapped with a knotted
handkerchief. These strangely garbed men with
their brown, wrinkled faces, entered into it all with
such a childlike enjoyment that we were soon laugh-
ing and shouting as we had not done since the Christ-
mas days of boyhood ; and the little braeier, with its
bright bed of charcoal that sent fearsome shadows of
turbancd heads and long mustachios dancing on the
white walls overhead, seemed a natural substitute for
the Yule log which that very night was burning in
the home across the seas.
As the Christians form a quite insignificant mi-
nority of the population of Hama, they receive a de-
gree of consideration from their Moslem neighbors
such as is not granted in cities where the two ]
religions are more nearly balanced and where jeal-
ousy and hatred consequently lead to frequent re-
prisals. Our host. Dr. Taufik, told us that some of
his warmest friends were young Moslems. He has a
large practice among the harems of the city, and has
performed heroic operations upon their inmates.
One afternoon he guided us through a narrow, wind-
[213]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
ing lane filled with evil-smelling garbage, to a rude
door not over five feet high. This was the entrance
to the finest house in Hama, the residence of one of
the doctor's Moslem patients. Indeed, Dr. Taufik
told us, with perhaps more of civic pride than strict
accuracy, that it was the most magnificent dwelling In
all Syria. The great central hall was decorated in
mosaics of colored marble and overlaid with gold-leaf
in intricate patterns of sumptuous beauty. Yet, as
is so often the case in the East, the only approach
to this splendid residence was through filth and odors
which would hardly have been tolerated in the worst
slums of an American city.
We later visited the home of another wealthy Mos-
lem, also a patient of the doctor. This time we
found the master of the house seated in the middle of
the state drawing-room — being shaved. He is the
only man I have ever seen who looked dignified while
in the hands of a barber. Even with lather all over
his face, he sat with the bearing of a prince of the
blood giving audience to his favorites. His atti-
tude toward us was marked by the most kindly
courtesy. He allowed us to indulge in the untidy
American habit of wearing shoes in the house, and,
although it was the fast-month of Ramadan and he
himself could eat nothing until sunset, delicious
sweetmeats were served us in delicate cut-glass dishes
set on a heavy silver tray. After we had watched
our host put on his furs and drive off behind his two
[214]
HAMATH THE GREAT
beautiful Arab stallions, we asked Dr. Taufik how
much wealth was necessary for one to live in such
luxury, and what was the business of his Moslem
friend. " Oh, he does not work at all," was the
answer. " He does not need to, for he has property
which brings him an income of forty thousand pias-
ters a year " — whicli equals a little over fourteen
hundred dollars !
Hama has an acropolis somewhat larger than that
of Homs, but it is less symmetrical in shape and is
not so well preserved. From the sunmiit is seen the
same far-reaching historic plain ; but the attention
is soon drawn back to the city which lies just below.
If the visitor has resided in Syria, it is not the twenty-
four minarets which hold his gaze, not even the Great
Mosque, which is one of many shrines that claim to
guard the bones of John the Baptist ; but beautiful
and interesting above all is the river which winds its
slender cord of blue through the heart of the city.
Rising on the eastern slopes of Lebanon, then pass-
ing northward through Hollow Syria and the Enter-
ing In of Hamath, dammed up by the old Hittites to
form the Holy Lake by Homs, growing slowly as it
flows through the " Land of Hama " until at Antioch
it is almost deep enough for modem shipping — the
Orontes fatliered three of the great cities of the an-
cient world.
There are few real rivers in this land. Although
they make Damascus so fertile, Abana and Pharpar
[215]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
are hardly more than noisy creeks. It is true that
parts of Lebanon fairly sweat with springs, but
hardly half a dozen of these reach the coast except as
winter torrents whose stony beds dry up completely
when the summer comes. The Jordan in the far
south, the Leontes, which flows into the Mediterranean
between Tyre and Sidon, and the Orontes in the north
— these complete the tale of Syrian rivers, and Hama
is the only city in the country whose stream appears
as a prominent feature in the landscape. It winds
and twists so that you meet it at almost every turn
of the street. Along one bank, a line of closely lat-
ticed windows mark the harems of the wealthier citi-
zens ; farther on, a little group of women are washing
clothes under the shade of the cypress trees ; yonder
a weary train of mules are standing knee-deep in the
cool water, while a crowd of naked boys are sporting
in the shallow stream with as much energy and en-
joyment as any truant brothers of the West.
It is perhaps because the Orontes goes to the
northward instead of flowing south, as do the other
important Syrian rivers, that it is now known as
el-Asi, " the Rebel " ; or the name may have been
given, as some old Moslem writers suggest, because
its channel is so low that the stream cannot be
used for irrigation unless its water is artificially
raised.
There is a noise so loud and constant that you have
almost ceased to hear it — a dull, grave diapason,
[216]
HAMATH THE GREAT
fuller and deeper than the heaviest organ-stop. Now,
sloAvly and painfully, it forces up a few tones of the
scale, then drops sullenly to its key-note. "Do mi
sol, DO DO DO. Do sol la, DO DO DO '* — on through
the day and the night and the century. It is the
music of the na'ura, the water-wheels of the Orontes.
You see them now and then in southern villages, but
as other cataracts are to Niagara, so are all other
water-wheels to the water-wheels of Hama. Great
wooden frames revolving painfully upon wooden
axles as, by means of buckets along the circumfer-
ence, the river lifts itself up to the level of the ter-
races above — these wheels approach very near to
perpetual motion. We stand amazed before one that
is forty feet high, until the eye travels down the
river to another wheel of sixty feet; and our guide
takes us out to the edge of the city where a monster
ninety feet in diameter is playing its slow, solemn
tune.
It is impossible to shut out the sound of their
creaking. I know of travelers who have been so dis-
tracted by the incessant, inescapable noise that they
■could not sleep in Hama ; but we found the music of
the wheels very soothing, like the distant roar of the
ocean or a slow fugue played on some cyclopean
organ. Now they are in unison, now repeating the
theme one after another, now for a brief moment in
a sublime harmony never to be forgotten, then once
more together in the unison of a tremendous chorus.
[217]
SYRIA, THE LAND OF LEBANON
A» we drift to sleep, the song of the river call* us
back, back, back to the Beginning of Things.
" Do mi fa, do do do." What care the wheels
whether Saracen or Crusader conquer in the fight
below ! " Do fa sol, do do do." The chariots of
Zenobia are rattling across the plain — or is it the
fleeing cohorts of the Assyrian host? "Do sol la,
DO DO DO." The dark regiments of Pharaoh are
coming up from the south, and the Hittite city rushes
to arms. " Do mi sol, DO do do do." And old
Orontes is slowly pushing around the great wheels of
the dream city, while the Iliad is unsung, and Cheops
is unquarried, and the fathers of Abram still dwell
in Ur of the Chaldees.
[218]
INDEX
INDEX
Roman numerals refer to chapters, Arabic to pages
Abana River, 6T-71, 88f, 106
Abila, 69
Abilene, Tetrarchy of, 69
Ain el-Beida, 130
Ain Fijeh, TO
Ain el-Wu'ul, 130
Aleih stories, 61 f
Aleppo, Province of, 8
Anti-Lebanon 7, 63, 67-71,
178, 204
Aurelian, 135-137, 205
Assassins, the, 10
Awaj River, 89n
Baalbek, XIII
Climate, 188
Great stones, 198-200
History, 189-191
Ruins,' 192-197
Situation, 184f
Baal-gad (Baalbek), 189
Barada, see Abana
Bashan, Land of, 75
Bedouins, 129-131, 143
Beirut, City, 7, III
Bay, 35 '
Cape, 29
Caves, 31
Commerce, 36
History, 26f
Modern aspects, 37 f
Name, 29
Olive orchards, 30
Political strife, 40f
Religious strife, 38f
Sand dunes, 30
Schools, 41-43
AVater supply, 33
Beirut, Province of, 8
Bika', 63-65, 184f, 178, 204
Bliss, Daniel, 146-149
Bosra, 78
Butrus, Patriarch, 156-162
Byblos, 4, 7
Cathedral Rocks, 174
Cedar Mountain, 167, 176-179
Cedars of Lebanon, XII
Chrysorrhoas, see Abana
Coele-Syria, see Bika'.
Coffee, '107-109
Committee of Reform, 40
Cross, Festival of, 179
Damascus, VII-IX, 7, 15
Ananias, Tomb of, 119
Bargaining in, 98-101
Bazaars, 96-104
Beggars, 104
Caf^s, 106f
Cemeteries, 116
Commerce, 95, 111
[221]
INDEX
Dogs, 104
Dome of Victory, 88
Fame of, 90
Fertility, 92 f
Gate of Allah, 115
Healthfulness, 70
History, 91
Jews, 118
Khans, 110
Kisan Gate, 117
Lepers, 117
Meidan, 114-116
Modern aspects, 91
Name, 90
Night noises, 105f
Omayyade Mosque, 89, 120-
127
Population, 96n
Quarters, 118
Residences of rich, 111-113
St. Thomas' Gate, 106
Saladin, Tomb of, 119f
Street called Straight, 118f
Street calls, 101 f
Water supply, 70
Damascus, Province of, 8
Death, River of, 4
Deir el-Kamr, 17
Der'a, 77
Diman, 164
Dog River, 4, 33-35
Caves of, 34f
Druse Massacres, 14-17, 78
Druse Mountain, 77f
Druses, 11-17, 78, 84, 115, 138
ed-Durazy, 11, 67
Eastern Mountains, see Anti-
Lebanon
Edrei, 77
Emesa, see Horns
Feruzi, 152, 154-156
Fish, Sacred, 203f
George, St., 27-29, 116
Ghuta of Damascus, 93
Greek Catholic Church, 9
Greek Orthodox Church, 9
Hama, 64, 211-218
Hamath, see Hama
Hamath, Entering In of, 152,
204
Hauran, 75-87
Hauran, Jebel, 77
Hejaz Railway, 76f, 81
Heliopolis (Baalbek), 190
Hermon, Mount, 7, 65-67, 77,
178
Hollow Syria, see Bika'.
Horns, 136, 152, 190, 205-208
Homs, Lake of, 205
Institutes of Justinian, 42
Islam, see Mohammedanism
Ismailians, 10
Jebail, 4
Jesus Christ, 12, 27, 67, 122,
170
Job, the Patriarch, 78-80
Earthquakes, 4, 32, 102
Kadisha River, 166, 174
Kanawat, 78
[222]
INDEX
Kanobin, Monastery of, 174
Karayatein, 129
Kasjnin, Mount, 88
Keneiseh, Mount, 5, 52, 62, 67
Keshaya, Monastery of, 175f
Lebanon Mountains, I, 60-6S
Lebanon, Province, 8, 16f
Leja, 83-85
Leontes River, 64
Maronites, 9, 14-17
Metawileh, 10
Mirage in Bika', 136
Missionaries, XI
Mohammedanism
Attitude to Jesus, 122
Images forbidden, 112f
Position of women, 113f
Power of, 124f
Muzeirib, 76
Palmyra, X, 69
History, 133-138
Modern Village, 138, 140
Ruins, 138-140
Tombs, 132
Persons incidentally men-
tioned:
Abdul Hamid II., 76f, 108n
Abel, 69, 88
Abraham, 88, 90f, 98, 101
Abulfeda, 93
Adam, 88
Alexander the Great, 26
Amenhotep, Pharaoh, 26
Ananias, 119
Antar, 142
[223]
Antoninus Pius, 190
Antony, Mark, 133
Argjll, Duke of, 146
Asad Pasha, 110
Ashur-nasir-pal III. 34
Augustus, 26
Aurelius, Marcus, 34
Baldwin of Flanders, 26, 91
Balkis, Queen of Sheba,
129, 190
Benjamin of Tudela, 100
Bildad the Shuhite, 78
Cain, 69
Constantine the Great, 129,
191
Diocletian, 137
Dodge, Wm. E., 146
Domna, Julia, 190, 207
Dorotheus, Professor, 42
Eliezer, 90
Esarhaddon, 34
Fakhreddin, 30
Fatima, 116
Hadrian, 168
Hakim Biamrillah, 11
Hamzeh ibn Ahmed, 11
Helena, St., 179
Heliogabalus, 191n, 207
Herod the Great, 26, 91
Hiram of Tyre, 168, 173,
183
Ibrahim Pasha, 30, 84
Idrisi, 93
Jesup, Morris K., 146
John the Baptist, 121, 123,
215
Josephus, 84, 90
Justinian, 42, 137, 168
INDEX
Longinus, 135
Louis VII. of France, 91
Mohammed, 12, 93f, 116
Mukadassi, 188
Naaman, 89n, 117, 120
Nicodemus, 96
Nureddin, 91
Odenathus II., 134
Og, king of Bashan, 77
Paul, St., 91, llCf.
Pompey, 26
Post, Dr. Geo, E„ 168
Rameses II., 26, 34, 79
Rib-addi, 26
Richard Coeur de Lion, 28
Robinson, Edw., 195, 204n
Rustum Pasha, 168
Sapor of Persia, 134
Selim, Sultan, 34
Sennacherib, 26, 34
Severus, Septimius, 190,
207n
Shalraaneser II., 34
Solomon, 133, 190
Tamerlane, 91, 137
Tancred, 205
Theodosius the Great, 175
Tiglath-pileser III., 34, 91
Titus, 26
Uz, 90
Vahballathus, 134
Valerian, 134
Varius, see Heliogahalus
Vespasian, 26
William II. of Germany,
120
William of Tyre, 78
Phallic worship, 11
Pharpar, 89n
Pilgrim Route, 114, 122
Protestants, 40
Qadesh, see Horns, Lake of
' Railways, 60, 72f, 76f, 82, 210
Ras Baalbek, 149-152
Ras esh-Shukkah, 4
Rayak, 67
Saladin, 97, 91, 119f
Semakh, 73
Sirocco, 80
Smuggling, 32
Suk Wadi Barada, 69
Sunnin, Mount, 5. 52, 67, 178
Suweida, 78
Syria, II
Boundaries, 6
Manners and customs, 18-
Names, 6
Population, 8
Provinces, 8
Religions, 9-13
Syrian Desert, 7, 95, 129-132,
141
Syrian Protestant College,
IV, 42f, 146f
Syrians, 16, 22-25
Tadmor, see Palmyra
Tell el Amarna Letters, 26
Tell Biseh, 211
Trachonitis, see Leja
Transfiguration, the, 67
Tripoli, 8, 178, 201
[224]
INDEX
Uz. Land of, 78 Yarmuk Valley, 73-75
Vilayets of Syria. 8 Zebedani Valley, 67f
el-Wesen, 140 Zenobia, Queen, 69, 134-137,
Women, position of, 90, 113f 205
[225]
I
i)S Learj, lewis Gaston
94. Syria, the land of ^ebanon
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