Chapter XLI: Letter XXXIX

SMYRNA. _December 7, 1845._

From Nazareth we went down the plain of Jesreel to Mount Carmel, where we passed the night in the stately newly-built convent. The next morning we ascended from thence the mountain which commands the sea, with its fragrant shores, and down to Haipha (Hepha), sailed across the creek to Acca (Ako, Ptolemais), and rode then along the coast upon the wet sand, with the continued view of the accompanying mountains, through Sur (Tyrus) and Saida (Sidon) to Berut (Berytos), where we were received most cordially by the Prussian Consul General, Herr von Wildenbruch.

On the 13th of November we set off from Berut to Damascus. I left Gabre Mariam at the Herr von Wildenbruch’s, and took only my faithful Berber Ibrahim and a _khawass_ back with me. Behind the nearest sand-hills to Berut, the road leads immediately up the flowery and richly-wooded and watered mountains, which we crossed about the frontier, between the territories of the Drusen and the Maronites. We ascended the whole day, sometimes upon incredibly bad rocky roads, and remained one night on this side the mountain brow; this we reached only the next morning, and had now a wide view over the fertile plains of Leontes, which divides Libanon and Anti-lebanon, and, with the exception of the interruption of Gebel e’ Shech (Hermon) and its branches, which are pushed in between, forms a continued broad immense fissure along the whole of the valley of Jordan to the Dead Sea, to the Gulf of Akaba and the Red Sea. We descended to Mekseh, breakfasted on one of its flat roofs, and were to have cut across from here south-eastward through the valley to Megdel and Aithi; but we preferred taking a round northward to Zachleh, which is one of the largest and most flourishing towns of Christian Libanon. On the road we met with a party of soldiers, who were escorting several thousand muskets upon donkeys, which they had the day before taken from the inhabitants of Zachleh. The disarming of the whole of Libanon by Sheikh Effendi had commenced from the south with great partiality, as is well known, against the unhappy Christians, who were shamefully sacrificed by a merciless policy. In order to disarm the strong and influential Zachleh, it had been invested with 200 men of the regular troops, of whom we found some still stationed there, and an innumerable multitude of Bedouins, whose assistance they would make use of, in cases of necessity, against the Christians encamped in the valley of Beqâ’a; these last, however, were already gone. We inquired, in the still agitated city, after the Bishop Theophilus, who was described to us as having been a heroic and powerful champion in the battle; unfortunately he was gone to Berut. After we left there, we met on the road a German Catholic priest, who accompanied us to the frontier Mo’allaqa, and related to us many cruelties committed by the Turks, here, as every where else, on the tormented inhabitants. Some hundreds of guns more than were in the whole place, had been demanded, and the old Sheikhs who had to collect them, bastinadoed so long, till the inhabitants bought them with great trouble and at a high price in the camp of the Turks themselves.

From Zachleh we went to Kerak, in order to visit the grave of Noah. We found a long narrow building of well-united free-stone, and near it a small cupola building, surrounded with a few trees, from whence we had a beautiful view over the plain, and disclosed Anti-libanon. I saw through a window hung with votive rags, in an arched space, a bricked-up tomb, in the usual oriental form, but I was not a little surprised, upon looking through all the windows the whole length of the building, always to see the continuation of the same tomb, which appeared neither to have beginning nor end. At last the door-keeper came, and I convinced myself, with astonishment, that the tomb was forty ells long, according to exact measurement 31m. 77´, thus something more than forty common Egyptian ells.[153] This allows us to suppose that the measure of Noah’s body was in proportion to his life, of a thousand years long.

From Kerak we at last turned to the right, into the plain towards Tel Emdieh, then to the left into a valley, which led us straight to the north, and by sunset we came to El’Ain, a small village by a well, which lies at the end of the valley, at a tolerable height above the great plain. On account of the round to Zachleh and Kerak, we were somewhat behind our days’ reckoning, and for this reason, much to the disappointment of our mule drivers, we determined to go on further to Zebedêni, which is situated on the eastern declivity of Anti-libanon, two hours from here. As none of our people had gone this journey through the mountains, we took a guide with us, who conducted us soon out of our valley, which passed between the outer mountains and the principal ridge northward, up a tremendously steep, laborious, and endless rockway. The moon rose, the hours passed, and yet the desired Zebedêni was not reached. At length we stood at the steep verge of another valley, into which we had to climb on foot laboriously, leading the horses, for a whole hour, until we arrived at Zebedêni after a six hours’ march. Every one here lay in the deepest sleep; we had to knock at several houses, to ask the way to the convent, where we hoped to find shelter. At last it was found that there was certainly a church in the place, but no room to take us in, in the adjoining convent. We therefore quartered ourselves in the last house, which after much knocking was opened to us. It contained only one large room, which was, however, large enough for us and our servants, and the numerous family of men, women, and children, had withdrawn into one corner. But the people were friendly and kind, got their _bakshish_ next morning, and let us go with the invitation to repeat our visit upon our return. We now journeyed down the beautiful fertile valley of Zebedêni to the south, until we turned eastward again in an hour and a half into the steep rock pass, where the running brook by which we had hitherto travelled, swelled into a little river named Bárada, which forces itself a passage in incomparably beautiful and picturesque cascades through the luxuriant green to the great plain of Damascus. For several hours we rode along its steep banks, and sometimes along its bed until we came to a high arch, which served as a bridge from the left to the right shore. Here the road went up the mountain, and we found in the continuation of the steep rock-wall we had just quitted, a number of ancient rock tombs. Soon after the wild gorge opened into a broader valley, in which the dashing river serpentines on more easily, passing several friendly lying villages in its course. Up to this place it had broken through a mountain ridge running due north and south, in an easterly direction, and whence it now flowed through a gateway formed of rock. Two single crags stood forth to the eastward like mighty pylones, of which the southern one bore upon its crown of several thousand feet in height, a little tomb, surrounded with some trees. This place is revered as the grave of Abel Hebbi Habîl, who, according to tradition, was buried here. The elevation is hardly to be climbed; so it seemed from this side at least. We, therefore, did not seek to ascertain whether the youth Habel had also had a grave of forty ells in length built for him. At the foot of the rock, the ancient town of Abila had been situated, the name of which had probably given rise to the story.

We now left for some hours the charming valley of Bárada, and rode over naked rocky _plateaux_, until we descended to it again near Gedîden, and took a short rest on its shore in the shadow of high platanes and glistening larches. At length we again quitted the river, which had grown fuller and more violent from the many streamlets running into it, climbed a high mountain, and stood suddenly in sight of the boundless plain, which, stopped by no mountains to the east, lay before us like a single great garden, with innumerable thick-leaved green trees, cut through by roads and water. Directly at our feet, in the middle of this garden, lay glorious Damascus, with its cupolas, minarets, and terraces. We knew that we had to expect one of the most renowned views in the world. Nevertheless we were astonished, and found our expectations surpassed by the magnificent picture, which, as if by a magic stroke, unfolded itself before us, after the lovely, but narrow valleys, which alternated with the naked rock wildernesses. We remained at least an hour on this spot, which has been distinguished by the stately erection of a cupola resting on four open columns, called Qubbet e’ Nasr, “the Cupola of Victory.”

Damascus is one of the most holy and most celebrated cities of the East. The prophet Mahommed considered it thrice blessed, because the angels spread their wings over it, and he, on perceiving the beautiful view, did not conquer it, as to man but one paradise was promised, and he was to find his in heaven. In the Koran God swears by the fig and the olive, that is, by Damascus and Jerusalem, and the Arabian geographers call it “the mole on the cheek of the world,”--“the plumage of the bird of paradise,”--“the necklace of beauty;” in the titles of the sultans, “the paradise-scented Dimishk.”[154] According to the saying of the eastern Christians, Adam was made here out of the red earth; and the neighbouring mountain Kassiûm the legend points out as the place where Cain murdered Abel.

The Bárada, which we had followed from its first spring, runs somewhat south of Damascus into the great plain, then turns to the left towards the town, which it traversed in seven arms, and then runs into a lake. It was the golden-streamed Chrysorrhoas of the ancients, the celebrated Farfar of the eastern poets. It is this stream which causes the whole of this paradise; and through it this ancient city, which was known even to Abraham, and conquered by David, has had its importance secured. Formerly Damascus was the centre of Arabian literature and learning, and it is said that a disciple of the prophet gave instruction in the Koran to 1,600 believers at the same time (according to the Lancastrian method) in the great mosque of the Ommiades. The town appeared to us, at first, not to respond to its glorious environs. Tolerably wide but bare streets received us, with low houses, plaster walls, in which were little doors, and hardly any windows. There were none of the beautiful wood-carvings or stone ornaments to be seen either by the doors or at the corners. Only some mosques and wells which we passed formed an exception; and the many single trees in the streets and squares gave a pleasing appearance. As we came more into the interior of the city, the almost massive bazaars and the full shops; the richness of heaped-up fruit of all sorts; the gay crowd of large and small in the numerous costumes; and the never-ending turnings from one street into another;--everything forced upon us the idea that we were in a large and rich oriental city. We rode to the Prussian Consul’s, but he was lying ill of a fever. We then went further to a newly-established hotel. Here, also, as well as at the consul’s, we entered by a narrow door in an unsightly outer wall into a little dark court, and from thence into a low, crooked passage. Then, however, there opened before us a beautiful, spacious court, surrounded by stately, shining marble walls, in the middle of which was a fountain, overshadowed by lofty trees. At the further end was an arched niche, whose vaulted top was twenty-five feet high. To this one we mounted a few marble steps, and then found ourself in a hall not large, but rather lofty, which opened into the court, and along the inner walls had comfortable divans. To the left, near this niche, was a dining-room; on the right we mounted a staircase to the upper rooms, where we lived. These were wainscotted all round, and the walls and ceiling were decked with gay painting, gilding, and silvering. We afterwards saw several more of the best houses in Damascus, which all from outside appeared almost miserable, but internally displayed an oriental magnificence that was to be found nowhere else in this most charming country. And in this manner they sometimes build at the present time, at least, if we may judge by some of the small palaces, which have only been built within the last ten or twenty years. There reigns here a profusion of the use of marble and other valuable stone in these courts, halls, and rooms, such as we only find in royal palaces in our own country. The beautiful open halls, which are always built with a high arch in front, are found sometimes on two or three sides of the court, and have very often a small fountain, as well as the great one, which never fails to stand in the middle of the court, generally overshadowed by trees, which grow out of the middle of the marble slabs.

The next day we spent entirely in looking through the city, and particularly the large bazars in which are spread out beautiful stuffs, worked with gold and silver, magnificent arms, and other oriental articles of luxury. We visited the great Khan, with its nine splendid domed chambers; it is a kind of exchange for the most distinguished tradespeople; then the grand mosque of the Ommiades, which is kept with the utmost sanctity, and whose hall of pillars is 550 feet long, and 150 feet broad. It was formerly a Christian church, which must also have been built on the foundations of a Romish Temple of Juno. We were not allowed to enter, only to look in at the numerous open doors, and were even prevented by a fanatical Mussulman from going upon the roof of a neighbouring house, so that we were obliged to put it off till the next day. We were also shown a splendid plane-tree, thirty-five feet in circumference, which is in the middle of a street, near a well, called after an old Sheikh Ali, who is said to have planted the tree; we went also into the inviting coffee-house on the cool side of the stream. The next day we rode to the south gate of the city, called Bab Allah, towards which leads a perfectly straight street, more than an hour long, between magnificent shops, mosques, work-shops, and other buildings, which merits its name of “the street called Straight” (ἡ ῥύμη ἡ χαλουμένη εὐθεῖα), in which Saul lived when he was converted by Ananias.--(Acts ix. 11.)

On the road we stopped at the little cupola building which is usually supposed to be the tomb of Saladin, but is really only a little betort raised to his honour by Sultan Selim. The real tomb is twelve hours south of Damascus, near a place called Gibba, according to a Sheikh, whom we met here. From Bal Allah, the “Gate of God,” through which the pilgrims to Jerusalem and Mekka go, we rode round the town, to the left, through the pleasant orchards of olives, poplars, mulberry, and giant-sized apricot trees; the latter produce the most delicious apricots, which are dried, and under the name of Mishmish are sent all over the world. We then came to the burying ground of the Jews, where they were just letting down a body into the grave, and according to their custom here were calling out the praises of the dead. Not far from there lies the Christian burial-ground, in the neighbourhood of which the place is pointed out where Saul was thrown to the earth by the heavenly vision. From thence our way lay over a little bridge to the town wall, in which they showed us, near a gate which is now bricked up, the window through which Paul was let down. We continued along the wall till we came to a beautiful Roman gate, with three entrances, the _Porta Orientalis_, through which we came to the house of Ananias, and the cave in the rock, which is now turned into a chapel. Then we rode through fruit and olive gardens to a neighbouring village Gôba, where Elisha crowned Hazael king of Syria, and Elijah was fed by ravens in the cave.

We visited also the tomb of the great Arabian mystic, the renowned Sheikhs Mohieddin el Arabi, on our road from Damascus, in Salhîeh, which is situated near, and we thought also of his master the Sheiks Shedeli, who discovered how to make a drink of coffee, and used to keep his pupils awake with it. In Palestine we wandered about the tombs of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; Rebecca, Leah, and Rachel; of Joseph, David, Solomon, and the Prophets; of Christ, his parents and his disciples. Here we came to the tombs of Noah and Abel, and soon also to Seth’s; we trode the fields of the paradise of the first human pair. What a singular feeling it is to travel in a country where legends can be occupied on such subjects!

We remained the first night after our departure in Sûk el Bárada, at the foot of Nebbi Habîl. From thence we went again over the ancient arched bridge, which, as well as most of the buildings of this country, were built by the Empress Helena; and this time we examined more nearly the tombs in the rocks, to which we had to arrive by a very difficult path, through an old aqueduct hewn out of the rock. Some of these tombs were singularly planned and appeared to be very ancient; further on, followed several of the Greek period, with bas-reliefs and gables, and some steles in the rock, on which we could still decypher some Greek words. From here, not far up the river, we found an immense Roman work, the great old (though now forsaken) road, hewn for a considerable distance out of the solid rock. On the flat, high, side-wall were two Roman inscriptions, each in duplicate. The longest ran thus:--

IMPerator CAESar Marcus AVRELius ANTONINVS | AVGustus ARMENIACVS ET IMPerator CAESar Lucius AVRELius VERVS AVGustus AR | MENIACVS VIAM FLVMINIS | VI ABRVPTAM INTERCISO | MONTE RESTIVERVNT PER | IVIium VERVM LEGatum PRo PRaetore PROVINCiæ | SYRiae ET AMICVM SVVM | IMPENDIIS ABILENORVM. The other was:--PRO SALVTE IMPeratoris AUGusti ANTONI | NI ET VERI Marcus VO | LVSIVS MAXIMVS (centurio) LEGionis XVI. Flavin Firmae QVI OPERI | IN STITIT Voto Suscepto.[155] Since then the rock has been, without doubt, undermined and broken up for the second time by the current, (probably very violent in the spring-time of the year,) as close by the second copy of the two inscriptions, the rock-road breaks off into a steep. Towards four o’clock we had ascended the Antilibanon, and we then again went to Nebbi Shît, which is Seth, in the great plain of the Leontes. We immediately went to search for the tomb of Nebbi Shît, and were not a little astonished at finding here, as well as at Nebbi Noëh, a solid ancient Ambian building, with a small cupola adjoining, and within a grave forty ells long. It was wider than that of Noah, because on both sides along the whole length of the grave three steps led up to the height of the tomb, which were wanting in the other. It is quite apparent that tradition, by giving such an uncommon measure to the bodies of these two patriarchs, intended to represent them as antediluvian men; and the number forty, which is so frequently used both in the Old and New Testament as an indefinite holy number, has, as is seen here, not lost this signification among the Arabians.

The same evening we rode two hours further, to Britân, and arrived before sunrise next morning, at Bâlbek, the ancient Heliopolis, with its famous ruins of the temple of the sun. I stopped next by the old stone bridge, by which the road passed, and measured there a building block, which was not quite loosened from the rock, of 67 feet in length, 14 feet in breadth, and 13 feet 5 inches thick. Of such blocks, or of somewhat smaller ones, consist several walls of the ruins of the temple and Bâlbek. A block that I measured on the spot, and in its place, without particularly choosing it, was 65 feet 4 inches, by 12 feet 3 inches, and 9 feet 9 inches. The ruins are, in fact, immense; the style of the architecture, in all its ornamental parts, is however heavy, overloaded, and partly of a very barbarous taste.

To Bâlbek there hangs a very sad recollection. As I approached the straggling houses of the village, which is very near the ruins of the ancient temple, my faithful servant, Ibrahim, who had arrived here before us, came to meet me with the joyful intelligence, that Abeken, from whom we had separated in Jerusalem, had just reached the village. I found him, indeed, in the next house to the worthy bishop, Athanasins; hardly, however, had we greeted each other, when they came to tell me that Ibrahim was dying outside in the street. I found him almost on the same spot where he had met me in so friendly a manner, stretched out, the death-rattle in his throat, and his eyes already fixed. A priest, from the next convent, endeavoured to assist him, but in vain; he died in a few minutes before my eyes. A fever produced by being exposed to the weather, seemed to have given him his death-blow. He was a man of sterling worth, and an inborn noble nature, such as is not often found among the Arabs. I had taken him with me, in my journey to Nubia, from Assuan; he desired, from his own impulse and attachment, to accompany me to Europe, and would have been exceedingly useful to me in my labours on the Sudan languages, on account of his knowledge of the Nubian dialects. I wished to place a stone over the spot where he was buried, at the foot of Antilibanon, on the slope of the hill near a tree; but no stone-mason could be found. For this reason I sent one from Berut, with this inscription:--IBRAHIMO HASSAN SYENE ORIVNDO SERVO BENE MERENTI P.R. LEPSIVS. D. XXI. NOVEMB. MDCCCXLV.

This news made a deep impression upon Gabre Mariam, when I told it him at Berut; he wept bitterly, for they had been very good friends.

Before we left Bâlbek, the bishop advised us to take another road than that which we had intended to take, as the news had come that the other side of Libanon was in a very disturbed state, and that the population was in insurrection. However, as the whole country was in commotion, and as we had never met with any difficulty on that account, we cared but little about it, and remarked to him that we were only going through the Christian districts, whose inhabitants would be friendly to us. We quitted Bâlbek a little before sunset, and crossed the narrow plain, in order to pass the night in Dêr el Ahmar, the “red convent,” and the next day, with renewed strength, to ascend Libanon almost to its highest point. During our whole journey through Palestine and Syria, we had, till now, been favoured with the most beautiful weather. From day to day, according to the calculations of other seasons, we might expect continued rains, and, nevertheless, we had only once been wet through, on our return from the Dead Sea to Jerusalem. The broad plain, Begâa, which we crossed now a second time, is after the rains, at this season, not passable; and the numerous mountain-streams of the well-watered Libanon, are generally so swollen, that, on account of the want of bridges, they can only be crossed with great danger. This evening the sky was clouded over, in a threatening manner, the darkness of the night was impenetrable, and at last, when we had just perceived some lights in the distance, at Dêr el Ahmar, we lost our way upon a desert, full of clefts, and the ground broken and rough. At last hardly were we arrived when a heavy rain poured down. We shared again a large room with a whole Christian peasant family, and passed one of the most unquiet of nights.

Among the women and children, who appeared to be ill, there was a constant groaning and fretting. In a short time the continued rain penetrated the roof and dropped upon the beds; persons were sent up to heap fresh sand upon it, and to roll it with heavy pieces of stone pillars, (kept upon every house ready for this purpose,) which, however, sent so much lime and dirt down upon us, that we were obliged to beg that the operation might be discontinued. In a little shed near the door, lay a dog with a numerous progeny, whose bed must have also been wet, as they began to whine and yelp most piteously. Finally, our host was with repeated and much noise knocked up, in order to procure a horse for a soldier, who was carrying letters on further in haste for the Pasha. Consequently, during the whole night we could gain no rest; and if the Arabian proverb says, that the king of the fleas holds his court in the holy city of the Jews, I have every reason to suppose that he has removed his residence from there (where we laid comfortably) to this place.

Towards morning the rain had ceased, and had turned into a thick fog, which forming together into thick clouds, appeared sometimes to be cut by the prominent mountains of the lofty Libanon, and sometimes with its phantom-like play, with the light of the morning sun occasionally breaking through upon the nearer and farther woody hills and mountain-tops, perfectly delighted us. When we came to the first height, which is divided from the principal chain by a shallow valley, we had suddenly an indescribably beautiful and astonishing view over the whole of the mountain range of Libanon, which rose up before us, its whole length and down a considerable distance, covered with fresh shining snow; a true Alpine country in its most magnificent features, which towers majestically over this land blessed with eternal spring, but now so shamefully oppressed by its Turkish enemies. I enjoyed most fully this uncommon sight, which aroused in my heart a true native joy, and I tried to retain within me this clear pure light. Before me I drove my little Egyptian horse, who had lost his rider at Bâlbek, and who carried on his back the small possessions he had left; I thought then, how I had rejoiced a few days before, at the idea of the good Ibrahim’s astonishment, when he should traverse with us the snowy region of Libanon. The ass did not appear to be much pleased with the snow-heaps that we had to ride through; he often stood quite astonished in the middle of the snow, and no doubt took it all for salt, the white soft fields of which he had already known by the Red Sea and elsewhere. We rode zigzag along the immensely steep precipice seven to eight thousand feet high, which is here not rocky, but covered with earth, and terminates in a sharp brow. “El hamdu l’illah!” cried the old guide, when we had reached the top; and, “Salâm, salâm,” sounded in chorus. We had reached almost the highest point of Libanon, but the view over land and sea was unfortunately hidden from us by clouds and fog, although the blue sky was above our heads. After a short ride down from the top, our guide showed us at our feet, in a large level inlet of the mountains, the ancient and renowned forest of cedars, out of which King Hiram sent the great stems to Solomon to build the temple; it appeared from above as small as a garden. It had been considered for a length of time as the remains of this forest, till, in later times, in a northern part of Libanon, other forests of cedars have been discovered. We soon lost sight of the cedars as we descended lower into the clouds, which cut off all view from us. Suddenly the dark shadows of these giant trees appeared in close rows before us, out of the great masses of fog, like spirits of the mountains. We rode to the chapel of the hermit, who has usually a good glass of Libanon wine to put before a stranger, but we found it shut up; just then the clouds broke into a regular straight-down rain, from which the needle-like roofs of the proud cedars afforded us but little shelter. I found a cedar-apple hanging low enough for me to break off, and to carry with me as a token of remembrance. Some of these stems are forty feet in circumference, and ninety feet high; and as it is supposed that a cedar of a hundred years old will only be half a foot in diameter, so must these be reckoned three thousand years old, which would reach back to the time of Solomon. The rain increased, and we had yet several thousand feet to descend to the nearest village, Bsherreh. The lower we came, the more slippery and dangerous became the narrow, sometimes rocky, sometimes soft, footway, which leads along the steep precipice over a yawning abyss down to the right. At a bend in a corner of a rock, we at last caught sight of our desired night-quarters, the rich, pleasant, and large village of Bsherreh, which gives its name to the whole district, and is well known on account of its strong and influential, but wild and ungovernable, and often cruel inhabitants.

The rain had abated; the white houses with their flat roofs, the number of silver poplars, plane-trees, and cedars, which rose up among them either singly or in rows, formed one above another a semi-circle on a hill projecting from the right hand precipice, and appeared, as they shone with the rain-drops, as if they were just out of a fresh bath. Nothing was moving in the village; it appeared as if everything was dead in it; I rode on along a narrow path by the wall of a vineyard, with our old guide, before the rest. Suddenly, at a bend of the road, a strong voice called to us, and as I looked over the vineyard-terrace, of about the height of a man, I saw to my great surprise, twenty guns pointed towards me and the guide. The guide let the bridle of his horse fall, and raised his hands towards heaven, and cried out to the people. I immediately threw back the hood of my cloak, to show the people my European hat, and to prove to them who we were. When they saw that there were but few of us, and that we made no attempt to defend ourselves, they came in hundreds from behind the trees, surrounded us, and for a long time would not believe that we were not disguised soldiers. Some threw sticks down upon our horses from the terraces, while I was endeavouring to explain who we were to those nearest to me. Others understood the mistake sooner, and came down to the street, and took hold of the bridle of my horse. At last, a boy of about fourteen, with a frank countenance, a beautiful forehead, and red fresh cheeks, pressed through the crowd, and called out in Italian that we should not fear, it was all a mistake, we were their friends, and we had only to ride and dismount at his brother’s house. Some violent people accompanied us still, and cried out to us from the walls with the most angry gestures; while the great crowd were already satisfied, and raised a deafening shout of joy, fired their guns into the air, and led us in triumph to the village.

In Bsherreh, which contains from 1,200 to 1,500 inhabitants, all were on foot; they pressed and pushed each other, in order to kiss our hands or clothes. The women began their piercing cries; clapped their hands, and danced; my brave boy remained still by my side, and so, at last, we got step by step through the thick crowd, who now saluted us as friends, and reached the house of the sheikh, of whom my guide was a younger brother. We were led up the stone steps, across the hall, into the roomy chamber where we were to lodge.

I passed almost the whole evening with the sheikh of the village, Jûsef Hanna Dâhir, a full-grown young man with a serious, gentle countenance, which invited confidence. His father had been killed in battle under Ibrahim Pasha, who will be considered yet as a saint here, if the present detestation of the Turk continues much longer. Sheikh Jûsef was the eldest son of this numerous and old family, in which the office of sheikh is hereditary. He related to me with full openness, tranquillity, and judgment, everything that was passing among them; how they had determined to deliver up their arms, which were demanded, but had altered this determination when they had heard of the shameful acts which had been perpetrated by the Turkish soldiery in the southern districts. Now they had the number of thirty-four villages united, and all sworn in their churches, not to give up their arms, but to use them against the dogs of Turks. When I asked him if, since the death of their common leader, Emir Beshir, they had any prospect of being able to defend themselves against a disciplined army, he reckoned up in Bsherreh alone 3,000, and in the whole united district 13,000 combatants, as much as the whole Turkish military force in the country; besides these, they had their mountains, their snow, and rain, their defiles, and hiding-places, which would render all the cavalry and cannon of the Turks useless. Added to this, said I, a friendly consul in Berut, who will mediate to prevent the worst. This has, as I learned afterwards, happened; the French General-Consul, Bourré, has negotiated in their favour with the Pasha.

But I fear that all has been too late, and that over my good host in Bsherreh the storm of war has already burst, and they will not be more merciful to them and their children, than they were to their less powerful neighbours.

I rejoiced much on that evening to be able to render a service to the young Sheikh, whose quiet dignity had so much prepossessed me, in dressing and binding up a wound, better than was possible with the means they had, and I supplied him with linen and lint. He told me that we could not go the next day, as he must prepare a feast for us, roast a sheep, and show us that he was our friend; I however refused the kindly-meant invitation.

The next morning, we took a servant of the Sheikh with us to the next village, Ehden, which we found in great commotion, but not inimically disposed toward us. Sentinels had been posted at different places, and the gay population, in their dazzling red and yellow costume, who were stationed on the hills around the village, appeared from a distance like a flowery meadow among the green trees; they surrounded us, asked us questions, and appeared to have different opinions about us. A young Amazon ran from some distance to me, raised her finger in a threatening manner, and reproached us that we Franks did not openly and efficiently assist them.

We here took leave of our companion from Bsherreh; instead of him, a man upon a noble spirited horse attached himself to us, unasked; he saluted us politely, and at a certain distance kept us in sight. In about two hours, on an even slope of the hill, we perceived a troop of armed people in a field, who had planted the blood-red flag, as a signal to proclaim revolt and war far and wide over the plain. The patrol came up to us, and positively refused to let us proceed. Not till after a long negotiation, through a golden bribe, and by the mediation of our companion, who proved to be the Sheikh of a neighbouring village, did we obtain a free passage; but the whole troop accompanied us to the foot of the mountain. When we passed the next village, Zehêra, our companion the Sheikh was obliged to use serious threats in order to pass us safely over the frontier of the armed district; he then accompanied us along another valley, to a turn in the rock, saluted us shortly, and rode quickly back into the mountains. We had now only a few hours’ journey to Tripolis, where we arrived soon after sunset, and passed the grave-looking Turkish guards, who might have been somewhat roused from their stupid carelessness by the prospect of a desperate battle with the brave mountaineers.

We remained in Tripolis, now called Tarablûs, in a Latin convent, now only inhabited and protected by two monks. They told us that a short time before, the Christians of Libanon came to them, to desire their spiritual intercession, whereupon they did not hesitate to exhibit the holy sacrament for three days, on their account. Unfortunately the Maronites have less scarcity of these spiritual prayers and good wishes than of the more material provisions of bread and gunpowder, of which the Turks cut off their supplies.

The next day we visited the Prussian-American Consul, who lives in a pleasant house, of the oriental style, and then went to the bazaar. Passing over a beautiful old bridge in the middle of the town, we met a division of Turkish cavalry on their way to Libanon, in their gay, tawdry, dirty costumes, with their lances, ten feet long, ornamented with black ostrich feathers, and the little war-drums in full work going before. About noon we left this place just at the same time that the new Turkish general from Berut was passing the same gate, out of which we rode. On our road we met the division of troops which had been ordered from Zachleh here. We now travelled along the sea-shore, and almost the whole day we heard the thunder of the cannon in the mountains.

We passed the night in a Khân on this side the mountain Râs e’ Shekâb, named by the ancients Θεοῦ πρόσωπον, doubtless because to those who come from the north, the Black Mountain, which here projects into the sea, takes quite the form of a bust. The following day we came to the ancient Byblus (Gebêl), and then crossed the river Adonis, which still at times, after violent rains, weeping over the wounded darling of Aphrodite, becomes blood-red. Beyond Gûneh, almost at the sea, partly indeed in it, we reached Nahr el Kelb, the ancient Lycus, on whose southern side upon the rock which projects into the sea, are sculptured the famous bas-reliefs of Ramses-Sesostris, and of a later Assyrian king.[156] Notwithstanding our sharp riding we did not arrive at the table-rock till a little after sunset, and we passed the night at a Khân at the further side.

The next morning I examined the sculpture more closely, (by which passes the ancient, artificially constructed road, now broken up,) and I rejoiced over some essential discoveries, as I found it would be possible to decypher a date in the hieroglyphical inscriptions. Among the three Egyptian representations, which all bear the cartouches of Ramses II., the middle one is dedicated to the highest god of the Egyptians, to Ra, (Helios), the southernmost to the Theban or Upper-Egyptian Ammon, and the northern one to the Memphite, or Lower-Egyptian Phtha. To the same gods, this Ramses had also dedicated the three celebrated rock-temples in Nubia, Gerf Hussên, Sebûa and Derr; no doubt because he believed them to be the three principal representers of Egypt. On the middle stele the inscription begins under the representation with the date of the 2nd Choiak, of the fourth year of the reign of King Ramses. The Ammon’s stele, on the contrary, was of the second, or (if the two marks were bound together at the top) of the tenth year’s date; under any circumstances, of some other date than the middle stele,--whence it might be concluded that all three representations referred to different campaigns.

We also did not leave unvisited the tomb of St. George, and the church dedicated to him, near Nahr el Kelb; and as we were going to Berut in the evening, we turned our steps towards the well where the dragon which he killed used to drink. Thus on the 26th of November we concluded our excursion to, and over Libanon, this justly celebrated mountain, on account of its rich mass of historical reminiscences and rare natural beauties, of which the poet says, that “it bears winter on its head, spring on its shoulders, autumn in its lap, but that summer slumbers at its feet by the Mediterranean.”