Under the Syrian Sun: The Lebanon, Baalbek Galilee, and Judaea 9781463209995

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UNDER THE SYRIAN SUN THE LEBANON, GALILEE, AND

By

A.

C.

'BAALBEK JUT) MA

INCHBOLD

A u t h o r of " P h a n t a s m a , " " Princess Feather," " T h e Silver D o v e , " etc.

WITH 4 0 FULL-PAGE AND

8

PLATES

BLACK-AND-WHITE BY

STANLEY

INCHBOLD

Vol. I

M GORGIAS p r e s s 2004

DRAWINGS

First Gorgias Press Edition, 2004. The special contents of this edition are copyright €> 2004 by Gorgias Press LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States of America by Gorgias Press LLC, New Jersey. This edition is a facsimile reprint of the original edition published by Hutchinson & Co., London, 1906.

ISBN 1-59333-140-1 (Volume 1) ISBN 1-59333-141-X (Volume 2)

& Ì G

GORGIAS PRESS

46 Orris Ave., Piscataway, NJ 08854 USA www.gorgiaspress.com

Printed and bound in the United States of America.

UNDER T H E SYRIAN SUN VOL. I

A FEW PRESS NOTICES O N MR. STANLEY INCHBOLD'S PICTURES LITERARY

WORLD.—"We

do

not

remember

to

have

seen before any such a t t e m p t a s Mr. Inchbold m a k e s to r e p r e s e n t t h e w o n d e r f u l variety of continually c h a n g i n g colour that is peculiar to t h e Holy Land. T h o u g h t h e s e w a t e r colours h a v e t h e i r p u r e l y a r t i s t i c value, t h e y a r e specially i n t e r e s t i n g because of t h e vivid and s y m p a t h e t i c w a y in which t h e y r e p r e s e n t the cities and l a n d s c a p e of Palestine." MORNING P O S T . — " T h e

water-colour

drawings

of

Mr.

S t a n l e y Inchbold at t h e F i n e A r t Society t a k e cognisance of early m o r n i n g , noon, and e v e n i n g so satisfactorily t h a t it follows a s a m a t t e r of c o u r s e t h e i r colour is capably regulated, while t h e wealth of detail has been guided by e n d e a v o u r to be accurate a n d , a t t h e same time to p r e v e n t i t e m s from b e i n g u n d u l y d e m o n s t r a t i v e . " GLOBE.—" A n a r t i s t with more t h a n o r d i n a r y o b s e r v a tion. H e h a s succeeded admirably in r e c o r d i n g the peculiar character of the c o u n t r y . " W O R L D . - " Mr. S t a n l e y Inchbold is particularly succ e s s f u l in r e n d e r i n g the clear w h i t e light of an O r i e n t a l d a y , and h i s s u n s e t s a r e a s g o r g e o u s as E a s t e r n s u n s e t s should be." GENTLEWOMAN—" It is in h i s t r e a t m e n t of light and s h a d e and a t m o s p h e r e on landscape and sea-scape, comb i n e d with p o e t r y of feeling r e n d e r e d w i t h certainty of t o u c h and masterly execution, t h a t Mr. S t a n l e y I n c h b o l d ' s s t r e n g t h a s a water-colour a r t i s t lies."

CONTENTS VOL. I

CHAPTER

I PAGE

FROM THE SEA TO THE MOUNTAINS OF LEBANON .

CHAPTER

.

II

SOME CHILDREN OF THE LEBANON

CHAPTER

l6

III

THE TRANSLATION OF THE DRUSE SHEIKH .

.

CHAPTER IV VISITS OF CEREMONY AND CUSTOM . C HA A PPERENNIAL TER V THE SPRING OF REFRESHMENT

CHAPTER A SECRET RELIGION

I

- 3 1

.

47 59

VI

67

. V

vi

Contents CHAPTER

VII

PAGE

BARUK CEDARS

85

CHAPTER

VIII

PILGRIMS OF THE CHURCH OF THE FUTURE

CHAPTER

.

.

95

IX

A DRUSE WEDDING

108

CHAPTER THE CEDARS OF AINZAHALTA

X

AND THE PLAIN OF THE

BEKAA

122

CHAPTER

XI *37

THE CITY OF THE SUN

CHAPTER

XII I

BAALBEK

CHAPTER

54

XIII

D A Y OF RAISING THE KEYSTONE OF THE GREAT PORTAL OF THE TEMPLE OF JUPITER CHAPTER

.

.

.

.

I74

XIV

LEX TALIONIS AND THE BATTLE OF THE WINDS

186

Contents CHAPTER THE ROOTS OF LEBANON

XV

.

CHAPTER

.

.

.

XVI

LORD OF THE DANCING FESTIVALS

CHAPTER

XVII

THE BROW OF CARMEL AND ITS MONASTERY

CHAPTER OLD AND MODERN HAIFA

XVIII .

CHAPTER

.

XIX

FLOWERS OF THE PLAINS OF GALILEE

.

.

ILLUSTRATIONS VOL. I

PLATES SYRIAN

SHEPHERD BOY

Frontispiece FACING

THE

V I L L A G E OF A I N Z A H A L T A .

SUNSET I N T H E L E B A N O N : GOATHERD

.

.

.

.

D J E B E L BARTJK

.

.

.

.

6

.

.

L8

OF T H E L E B A N O N

62

CEDARS OF L E B A N O N SYRIAN

PAGE

88

W O M A N OF T H E H A U R A N

.

.

.

.

.

.

IOO

DRUSE W O M A N OF MOUNT L E B A N O N

.

.

.

.

.

I 14

T H E M E D I T E R R A N E A N SEA FROM T H E M O U N T A I N S OF L E B A N O N . RELICS OF T H E

GREAT T E M P L E OF T H E SUN

.

.

.

.

.

.

126 . 1 3 4

B A A L B E K FROM A N T I - L E B A N O N

144

G R E A T P O R T A L OF T H E T E M P L E OF J U P I T E R R U I N S OF T H E ACROPOLIS, B A A L B E K SOUTH P E R I S T Y L E

.

.

.

.

OF T H E T E M P L E OF J U P I T E R

T H E T E M P L E OF V E N U S ,

.

152

.

.

162

.

. 1 7 8

BAALBEK

L8O

THE RAS-EL-METN A R O C K Y HEIGHT

202 OF MOUNT L E B A N O N

SUNSET OVER T H E M E D I T E R R A N E A N ,

214

FROM MOUNT CARMEL

.

T H E C I T Y OF T I B E R I U S GALILEE :

FLOWERS NEAR

KARN HATTIN

W I T H I N T H E W A L L S OF T I B E R I U S

.

. .

BLACK-AND-WHITE DRUSE TOMB, MOUNT L E B A N O N A DRUSE W I T H

224 248

.

.

. .

.

.

254

.

.

260

.

.

42

PLATES .

.

.

54

HIS S I L K W O R M COCOONS

T H E COLOSSAL STONE I N T H E A N C I E N T A DRUSE HOUSE, MOUNT L E B A N O N

viii

QUARRY, BAALBEK

.

140 I9O

SYRIAN*

SHEPHERD

BOY.

UNDER THE SYRIAN SUN CHAPTER

I

FROM THE SEA TO THE MOUNTAINS LEBANON

OF

H E sight of the mountains of Lebanon from the sea was a revelation. T h e sea itself was the colour of lapis-lazuli, the sky of turquoise-blue. Between sea and sky the mountains rose and receded, ridge upon ridge of atmospheric spectral appearance showing, as through a transparency, the markings of forest and chasm, the villages and towns lying snugly on the slopes, or remote on the distant peaks of the various hill-ranges. Their beauty of form remains ever mysterious and wraith-like, whether veiled by the sunlight in an atmosphere of delicate shades of lavender and pallid greys, or transmuted by the setting sun to the colouring of amethyst and rosy pink, while the sea, as if in worship at their feet, deepens from rose to the ruby hue of wine. VOL.

I

I

2

Under the Syrian Sun

T h e wind was so strong off Beyrout that an hour slipped away in making attempt to anchor. W e had to steam out to sea again, and then return to leeward under the quay, instead of anchoring as usual within the harbour. T h e boats that swarmed to the ship's side seemed precariously small in comparison with the Jaffa boats, scarcely equal to the double task of conveying passengers and baggage in a stiff breeze the distance of half a mile to the landing-stage. T h e customs were no longer a sinecure—that is to say, a matter of discreet backsheesh administered at the psychological moment. One of the perennial telegrams from headquarters at the Sublime Porte had been received, giving warning of the attempted smuggling of contraband arms into the Lebanon. Everything belonging to anybody and everybody, with no respecting of persons, was examined with the maximum of fuss and noise. T h e whole place was like a bear-garden in conjunction with the shrill chatter of the monkey-house. It was only by exercise of our most skilful diplomacy that we escaped leaving our typewriter in the grip of these energetic netters for the T u r k i s h revenue. At last we drove off to our pension, a charming house with a garden in which we dined later under the trees. T h e breeze of the afternoon had dwindled towards sunset into a languid zephyr, deliciously cool after the blazing heat, and laden with perfumes of the flowering shrubs and trees. O f Beyrout itself upon that visit we received no more than the fleeting impression of a drive by moonlight through the shadowed streets,

The Mountains of Lebanon

3

past the closed bazaars, the open-air cafes, and the fine residential houses of the suburbs, which we left behind before reaching the pines on the Damascus road, a favourite corso in Beyrout for riding and driving. July had begun. T h e town was deserted by all who could fly from the vapoury heat of the plains to the hill districts, where the air is dry though often intensely hot. Accommodation in the highlands of Lebanon is improving and increasing yearly. It was early morning, barely six o'clock, when we drove out to the first station on the Beyrout-to-Damascus railroad in order to avoid the worry of renewed official research in our baggage at the terminus. T h e drive wound through the suburbs and out towards the foothills of Lebanon in gradual ascent, with mulberry-groves, pines, and luxuriant growth of fruit trees and shrubs of all kinds spreading right and left of the dusty roads. T h e train journey was a continual climb, the railway mounting by rack and pinion like many an Alpine one, three or four miles between the stations, a distance that required the space of twenty minutes or half an hour to cover. Over and around, height upon height we climbed, passing terraced hill-slopes of vine or mulberry, gazing into the remote depths of a mountain gorge, at every turn taken by surprise with glimpses of tiny villages perched on apparently inaccessible hill-summits or precipitous cliff-side. A n d always the sea, " the deeply, beautifully b l u e " sea, and the glorious plains spread out below in their full beauty of dazzling light, or revealed in magic peeps through fissures in the hillsides.

Under the Syrian Sun

4

Half-way to Damascus we alighted from at the station o f A i n Sofar, almost

the

train

the highest

point

of the railway at an elevation o f some 4,000 feet above sea-level.

Opposite

the

station

stood

a large

hotel,

originally built as a speculation, with the laudable object in view o f making A i n Sofar the M o n t e Carlo o f the Lebanon, and, in fact, o f the whole o f the nearer East. F o r some

time

after it

was

opened

every effort

was

made to render the summer season spent there a fashionable casino

life

with

petits

chevaux,

roulette,

and

T h o u g h the play, as far as the petits chevaux

cards.

gambling

was concerned, had been stopped by a special irade of the Turkish

Government,

the

hotel

was,

and

still

is, a

fashionable resort for the gay and wealthy folk of Beyrout, Egyptians, and rich Syrians generally.

It is a spot where

the most incongruous contrasts o f Parisian or Viennese fashions, with mountain scenery o f the ruggedest description, and the native life o f Lebanon peasant or nomadic Bedawin, are continually in opposition.

So marked is it

at times as to present a spectacle at once ridiculous and lamentable. W e passed the modern caravanserai o f many stories and

staring

windows,

its chief outward

attraction

the

magnificent prospect o f mountain scenery and plain from the terrace, and went on to a small native locanda, for we shunned the shadow o f W e s t e r n Philistinism on the heights of these beautiful mountains.

T e a was our first

refreshment, for it was a baking day, the beginning o f a burning sirocco that endured for three days.

T h e n we

rested, with an interval for lunch, until three o'clock,

The Mountains of Lebanon

5

by which time the carriages were ready for our drive to a highland village some ten miles away. T h e road had only j u s t been finished, by express order of the governor of the Lebanon, in time for the arrival of the British Consul-General, who was going to spend the summer months of this year at the same Lebanon village. T h e highway was still very much in the rough, and, in part of the drive, entirely blocked with huge stones which the natives, at work building a parapet to safeguard a dangerous bend in the road, had to remove before the carriage with its team of three horses abreast was able to proceed. T h e glare occasioned by the sirocco heat was excessive, for the rough, rocky environment was singularly bare, and destitute of shade, with very few trees scattered scantily on the mountain-sides. About two hours before reaching our highland village it came into view, perched on a hill at apparently no great distance, with a background of other hills rising high above, and the flat, quadrangular roofs mounting like terraces near and over one another, presenting the effect of a castellated height. Between us, however, and our desired haven was fixed the great gulf, in the form of a broad and exceedingly deep ravine through which purled a Lebanon stream, spreading the green fertility in its wake that was lacking to the grey aridity of the exposed heights. T h e precipitous hillside, climbing up to our right, was covered with small pines, less dense and more straggling, b u t similar to those on an Italian slope.

6

Under the Syrian Sun

It is these hidden beauties of the Lebanon, bursting suddenly upon one, in contrast with the scanty vegetation of the limestone heights, that constitute one of the chief charms to the traveller. E v e n to the mere passer-by there is a fascination that urges nearer investigation, but leisure and opportunity, mothered by the spirit of solitude, are the guides which best conduct to close knowledge of the wealth and beauty constituting the full glory of Lebanon. T h e road proceeded for some distance on the brink of this beautiful wadi, but then descended by a slow and winding gradient, with pines and undergrowth on either side, to its depths, passed over a bridge spanning the river, and then zigzagged upwards with many a precipitous corner, for a mile or more, to the plateau crowned with the nest of Druse and Maronite houses. Mulberry-groves on terraces and in small plantations grew everywhere around the village, and between the sun-bleached roofs. H e r e , as on the lower slopes of Lebanon, were whole acres laid out with the " spreading vine of low stature," terrace upon terrace in luxuriant fertility. T h e locanda 1 was of recent completion, reached from the high-road on foot, by a path so rocky as to be difficult to climb. A yard, bare, stony, and strictly unadorned except by a leafy booth, stretched in front of the house, which was constructed in Syrian fashion, with the pillared entrance above a flight of steps, doors to the left and right, and a second entrance into the lewan, lined by the 1

Small hotel.

T h e Mountains of Lebanon

7

bedrooms of the summer visitors. T h e balcony of the lewan, extending along the glass front, overlooked the village and the amphitheatre of hills surrounding it. Exactly opposite, rising from the further side of the concealed wadi from which we had climbed, rose a hill of conical shape with a flattened summit. Clouds were heaped above it, grey but luminous with light, the outer edges white against the sky ; right over the hill they cast an all-embracing shade, while the hillrange beyond was pale yellow and delicate in the sunlight. Over the bosomed outline of a more distant mountain chain cloud-shadows passed, melting into fresh forms the lower the sun dropped towards the western horizon. T h e hill of shadow looming across the ravine stood out ominous and dark against the sunlit background. Pine-trees were darkly outlined on the summit which, according to imparted information, had been levelled artificially at one period. It was a hill of worship, where secret rites of unknown nature were supposed once to have been held regularly by the Druses. This village of Ainzahalta was, strictly speaking, a D r u s e village, though there was also a community of Maronites who had a church of their own on the spot. T h e y lived peaceably enough together, though never intermarrying, and interchanged many ceremonious complaisances in spite of their religious antagonism, such as assisting in the jubilations of the marriage festival or the cries of lament over a dead body. T h e smartest of the D r u s e men wore full white pantaloons of the usual Oriental kind, an embroidered

8

Under the Syrian Sun

vest, and a coloured or plain zouave ; over the whole, when considered essential, a black abbai or haik. Their forehead and head were bound by a snow-white fillet, placed in close folds, not voluminous like the Moslem turban. Their general aspect was one of strict cleanliness, and superior, independent bearing. The workers in the fields or with the silkworm industry adopt a more négligée costume, as can be observed in the drawing of one who is seen busily engaged in his work. The feminine dress had also a distinction of its own in the full dark blue shirt drooping to the ankles, and the close-fitting but open bodice which discloses the folded chemisette of muslin to the waist, and is there drawn in to fit the lines of the figure with silver or metal clasps, generally of massive work. On the head is worn no longer the high horn formerly associated with the Druse national costume, but simply the long white veil of the ordinary Syrian woman, allowed to float freely over the shoulders to the knees with graceful effect, unless when in view of the opposite sex. When taken unawares on these occasions, the face is swiftly veiled, with the exception of one mellow, bewitching eye. For the Druse women have beauty of a marked, even distinguished type. The Maronite man will don, instead of the snowy fillet, a coloured scarf tied carelessly round his head, and sometimes the ordinary kefliyeh. His pantaloons are generally blue, and his coat, striped in colour, hangs loose to the knee. The Maronite women do not always wear the white veil, and being Christians their

T h e Mountains of Lebanon

9

faces are uncovered, but they cover their hair with a coloured mandeel, sometimes elaborately worked, or if somewhat superior to their neighbours, with a black lace scarf. These details are not only applicable to the one village but to the majority of hamlets in the highlands and lowlands of Lebanon. E v e n in this remote spot one of the British Missions had planted a station of work. T h e house was within a stone's throw of the locanda, and boasted of a pleasant garden, graced by the refreshing shadow of two magnificent walnut-trees, under which, by the kind courtesy of the two ladies in residence, we were often allowed to enjoy the luxury of a few cool hours. T h e villagers were awaiting with no small degree of excitement the arrival of the British Consul-General, M r . Drummond H a y (now Sir Robert Drummond H a y ) , and making every preparation to receive him and his family with every honour they could demonstrate, in accordance with national custom. T h e house to which the visitors were coming—divided only by a small mulberry plantation from the locanda—was frequently invaded 011 the eventful day of arrival by natives eager to give voluntary help in the preparations. T h e flight of steps conducting to the entrance if swept down once that morning was done a dozen times ; the railings and the portal were festooned with branches of the poplar and pine trees of the vicinity. Guns were let off at any moment, and at any corner of the village, or even under the windows, keeping every one in continual stir and start. I was VOL. 1 2

io

Under the Syrian Sun

sitting with a fellow-guest in the booth at the end of the courtyard overlooking the road when a shot whizzed through the fading foliage overhead. Coming out in haste we saw that the aggressors, a party of villagers who had taken their stand in the yard to test their weapons, were advancing towards the booth in some trepidation. " W h a t is the meaning of this ? Such recklessness is unpleasant," we made remonstrance in d u m b speech that signified its own amazement. One of the men, of picturesque and martial bearing, came u p to me with his g u n in his hand, and pointed significantly to the trigger. " Inghilterra ! " he said in a pleading voice. " Inghilterra ! " H e was trying hard to convey to us the idea that they were doing it all for England's sake. A n d this was true, for the Druses bear a particular goodwill to England and all that is English. Their reasons for cultivating this favourable attitude will explain themselves as their character and the nature of their religious belief become further disclosed. Early in the afternoon a single g u n was suddenly fired, and then arose promptly the slow chanting of men's voices in strains that appeared to ring the various modulations of three notes only. Down the road leading away from the Consul's house, where they had been gradually collecting, marched at their ease a body of men in native gala costume, all singing, with guns in their hands, and shooting at random into the air, an accompanying salute to their songs of welcome.

The Mountains of Lebanon

11

T h e sky was tropical, the air filled to stifling with sirocco fumes, which, circulating in slight breezes, set the poplars lining the road in motion, sending flickering sheen from their slim tree-tops to the grey of their silvery stems. T h e mountain-sides radiated a great heat, while the new-looking tiled roof across the mulberryThe grove blazed to scarlet in the glare of the sunlight. predominant colourings, blue and red, of the men's costumes stood out in brilliant relief against the thickleaved battalions of the dwarf mulberry-trees planted in the rich, reddish soil. T h r o u g h the trees wended in and out figures of women in their blue skirts and long veils. H e r e and there in silhouette against the blue sky a figure stood out on a house-top, while others of the villagers grouped themselves like birds on the walls that banked the paths and road. T h e men were on their way to the bridge at the foot of the hill, where, in the wayside khan, and by the mill where the stream rushes with the vivaciousness of champagne through the arches into an eddying pool, they intended to keep watch and bid their favourite Consul welcome to their mountain home. Towards evening they returned in triumph and continued the festivities of welcome until midnight. Bonfires were lighted and dancing was in progress for many hours before the Consul's dwelling, and later in the courtyard of the locanda for the entertainment of the visitors from " Inghilterra." In the deep wadi at the foot of the hill one met with the strangest contrasts at every turn, of wild

12

Under the Syrian Sun

Lebanon scenery and English nature. And or narrow cañón was less wild and natural and the proximity of

sweet sylvan nooks of a typically what was seen in one deep valley characteristic of all in a more or degree, according to accessibility habitations.

H e r e would be seen a rolling cragside scattered with boulders, and overgrown with rhododendrons, trees and bushes of them, wherever was to be found the smallest sustenance for their roots. Oleanders clustered near the water, their roses fresh and glowing in the cool recesses of the mountain, even beneath the ardour of an August or September sun. H e r e was a Syrian mill, quaint and even picturesque, worked by a stream diverted from the river ; higher up the river yet another came to view with a curious rustic bridge slung from one side of the water to the other. It was strange and delightful to find such a number of romantic spots hidden away between the cliffs. Baby brooks slipped unexpectedly into view from narrow passages in the rocks, tempting one to turn aside and trace them to their source. I scrambled over the water to a large stone in the middle of one stream which I had tracked from the place of its union with the river, and this is what I saw. A sturdy little spring gurgled out of the rocks at the foot of a high background of tangled greenery, moss, and creepers hanging in festoons. Like quicksilver playing and glittering it fell in a tiny whirlpool which spread and merged into a mellow-voiced, limpid stream, deeply ensconced between high barriers of precipitous

The Mountains of Lebanon

13

cliffs of rich and varied hues. F o r in M o u n t Lebanon as well as the limestone formations there is also a sandstone formation of reddish and yellow hue, with a certain amount of iron ore and iron pyrites upon clay beds. T h e colours of the rocks were often of great beauty, and the effect of sunlight or the sunset glow upon many of the cragsides near Ainzahalta dyed the whole into a full gamut of glowing colours. However, the undersurface of stony soil and rock in this little home of the stream was clothed and even concealed by ferns, moss, and undergrowth of every variety of soft-hued greens and greys, already displaying delicate suggestions of autumn tints. Dainty tendrils flung caressing feelers round the fallen bare branches of an uprooted sapling which stretched across the stream from one bank to the other. Summer insects had spun innumerable webs which bound leaves and stems under a spell of apparent enchantment, until winter frost or snow would bring all to a swift death. A broad band of moss ran like a living ribbon u p from the bed-rock of the brook to the root of a tree growing out from the cliff near the summit. T h e grey t r u n k grew downward in inverted position for several feet, then suddenly curved out over the stream and shot erect, spreading into small tufted branches of lighttoned foliage, aspiring skyward. By the water edge grew a cluster of purple campanula. A solitary sister was growing higher up the rock, where emerald fronds of maidenhair lifted their dainty stems from a bed of glistening, water-sprinkled moss.

14

Under the Syrian Sun

The opposite bank was edged thickly with the evergreen of the rhododendron. Great clusters of healthy osmundas, displaying a redundance as luxuriant as bracken on a Welsh hillside, wandered up the rock or bent to the mirror of water below. The tranquil rock, lying so demurely under its veil of green, burst beyond it into joyous waves over a rocky bed, and then slipped in swift concentrated current to a hollow in the rock, smooth and bevelled with the never-ceasing flow. In splashing content it sprang over step after step of rock, slipping between the stones, forming here a crystal pool with pebbled depth, and there a miniature cascade. Overhead where the trees concealed it from view, the sky peeped through with clear blue eye only where the effect of summer heat and autumn rime had already worked havoc in the leafy boughs ; for spring is late and autumn premature in these rocky fastnesses of Lebanon. A little bird darted from side to side in blissful indecision ; there were so many tempting springs to try, such myriads of tantalising sunbeams to catch and waterflies to chase. H i g h on the brink of the nearest crag stood a pine-tree, isolated, but cheerily green and fruitful. Lower down the main stream another little burn from the opposite side of the valley came hurrying to join it. Near the meeting of the waters its banks were lined with willows, shot with sheen of silver and grey. A low native house with a mulberry plantation were divided from each other by the brook. The house was of two low stories, flat-roofed, the first story or foundation

The Mountains of Lebanon

15

affording stabling at night for the animals, a horse and mule, which were tethered to posts beneath the willows close to the little khan. A modern water-wheel, with light-painted wood of an aggressive crudeness, turned on its axis between two barriers, now lazily, now swiftly, the water splashing and rushing with corresponding unequal rhythm. T h e current rippled merrily away between the narrow banks under a rough stone causeway flung carelessly across. It bent with serpentine curves, as if seeking an egress, then with sudden energy the waters expanded into a spreading pool which overflowed the broken masonry of the millbank in leaping rivulets finding its home in the river at last.

CHAPTER SOME

CHILDREN

II

OF THE

T

R A V E L L I N G , until quite by so many difficulties who united enthusiasm with attempted it, except by the routes.

LEBANON

recent years, was attended in Syria, that only those love of exploration ever safest and best-known

F i f t y years ago there were practically no roads, only beaten tracks leading f r o m place to place over the natural soil, or u n b r o k e n strata of bare rock. Roads were, indeed, hardly needed, for wheeled vehicles of the simplest nature were then u n k n o w n in the country, the mode of conveyance for man and traffic being necessarily by camel, horse, donkey or mule. Perhaps the worst and most arduous district to penetrate on this account was the m o u n t a i n o u s Lebanon. T h e railroad f r o m Beyrout to Damascus has only been constructed twelve years. T h e diligence road, beside which it winds for the greater part of the way, leading u p to the highest passes and down to the plain of the Bekaa, was built by the French d u r i n g their occupation of the Lebanon after the tragedy of 1860, and t h u s gives a date to the introduction of wheeled vehicles. I t was t h e

visit

of

the 16

German

Emperor

some

Some Children of the Lebanon

17

years ago that gave a tremendous spurt to road-making in Syria. A s in the days of old, so in the present time, the rough places are made plain, the crooked paths straight, and roads prepared even through the wilderness, when Oriental authorities in high places are making ready to welcome the visit of a great king or dignitary. In every way that is in their power they seek to facilitate his progress through their own dominion, even to making roads where roads have never been made before. M u c h of this labour was expended in vain, for a sirocco of the rare duration of twenty-one days also gave welcome to the Imperial travellers directly they set foot on the shores of the Levant. Travelling became so painful a pleasure under these conditions that the visit had to be summarily curtailed. Several of the roads in readiness were never entered upon at all, and have since fallen into entire disuse. However, the necessary impulse once given seems to have worked effects elsewhere, for at present no better carriage roads than those in the district of Lebanon are to be found in all Syria. T h i s is only by way of explanation before stating that the new road, only just completed between Ain Sofar and Ainzahalta, and on which we were presumably the first travellers by carriage, after winding round the village, continued, with many bends, to ascend the hillside beyond. T h e steep declivity to the left was barred by a low parapet of great stones which did not hide the depth of the mountain fissure beneath, nor the opposite crag with its remarkable strata and massed VOL. I

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Under the Syrian Sun

débris of brilliantly hued rocks, the vestiges of some pre-historic volcanic eruption. The summit was crowned with a small forest of pines, among which in summer-time open-air life could be enjoyed to perfection under conditions of ease and good fare, and having for a continual feast of assthetic pleasure the wild, romantic beauty of a vast panorama. The proprietors of the colony of tents, established every summer between the pines, were Syrians, and thoroughly understood the art of making the