AN EXCURSION TO DAMASCUS AND BA'ALBEK. PART FIRST. "It deserved in truth to be called the City of Jove and the eye of all the East, the sacred and magnificent Damascus, I say, surpassing every other region, both in the beauty of its temples and sanctuaries, the serenity of its climate, the abundance and transparency of its waters, and the exuberant richness of its soil." JULIAN EMP., EPIST. XXIV. HAVING visited Jerusalem and the most through deep dells and over bold eminences interesting parts of Palestine during the crowned with villages, convents, and garspring of 1844, we, on our return to Beirut, dens, we at noon arrived at Beirut, where passed along Mount Lebanon and stopped we took up our quarters in the well-known a few days at Deir-el-Kamar, the principal hotel of Battista, and instantly made precity of the Druzes. Though all the in-parations for our excursion to Damascus. habitants of the mountain, Druzes as well as Maronite Christians, were armed at that time, and disputes and feuds now and then arose among them, the country was nevertheless considered safe, and the numerous European travellers fearlessly enjoyed their excursions on the Lebanon without any molestation from the Arabs. Different was the situation of Palestine, where a destructive civil war was raging in the plains of Galilee and on the Samarian highlands, and several parties of pilgrims, ust returning from the Easter festival at ferusalem, had been attacked and robbed by the wild Arab bands of Nabulus. At Deir-el-Kamar, (the convent of the 100n,) we found a Turkish garrison quarered in the beautiful, but now nearly dipidated palaces of the old Emir-Beshir n Mount Beteddin. The Druzes were in ossession of the upper town. They daily ppeared fully armed on the bazars of the wer city, which is only inhabited by the ore quiet and industrious Christians. We ft the convent of the hospitable Marotes on the thirteenth of May, and deended to the mill on the bridge of the er Damour, one of the loveliest spots Syria. Our road then passed through ty pine forests covering the sides of the ountain, and towards sunset we reached e intervening heights, from which we joyed the full view of the rich plain of Sahil, the distant city of Beirut, and broad expanse of the Mediterranean. e Christians in the village of Ainub ofed us hospitality for the night, and after nost romantic descent the next morning VOL. II. NO. II. NEW SERIES. It had previously been the plan to start for Anturah, and passing by the ancient cedars in the high region of Jebel-Makmel, to descend to the plain of Ba'albek; but the weather being still very unsettled, and deep snows covering the higher mountainpasses, we preferred to take this interesting route on our return, and at present to strike into the great caravan route directly for Damascus. By the kind attention of Dr. De Forest, we were soon provided with good horses and an honest Arab dragoman, Mustapha, attached to the American mission, who proved to be a clever servant, but understanding neither Italian nor Greek, and but very imperfectly the English language, and being unacquainted with the routes of the Lebanon, he was of little use as a guide or interpreter. In all travels through the Levant, the first day's journey is extremely troublesome and unpleasantly retarded by the difficulty of assembling the saddle-horses, mules and drivers, and by their unskilfulness in loading the tents and baggage. A large khan in the pine-forest of Hursh-Beirut had been fixed for our starting point, but it was not until late in the afternoon on the seventeenth of May that our party could be assembled, and servants and horses got ready for departure. SaadPasha, the governor of Syria, was just manoeuvring his army on the sands, south of the city, and on our meeting the marching columns of Turkish horse and artillery in the narrow lanes, hemmed in with vines and prickly pear, we were again detained 11 by the most picturesque scenes of Oriental warfare. The upper regions of the Lebanon are rocky and desert. Numerous rills, forming small cascades, are descending to the more level table-land, el-Jurd, on the south-west, where, on a fine meadow, herds of cattle and some horses and mules were grazing. At last, getting clear of the press, and uniting with our attendants at the khan, we passed westward through the plain and ascended the declivities of Mount Lebanon. The vineyards and mulberry plantations now became more rare, and soon discontinued altogether; and on the barren, rocky path, we in six hours arrived at the Khan Hussein, where we took up our quarters for the night. This nearly ruined khan lies in a dreary situation, on the top of a stony hill overlooking the wide range of the Lebanon. Groups of Arabs were sitting at their evening meal round the fires before the entrance. The interior of the mud-walled rooms looked so comfortless that we preferred to pitch our tents beneath some mulberry trees at a distance from the khan. But the night became stormy; and the rain pouring down the declivity penetrated into the tents and rendered repose impossible. Though in so southern a latitude, and in the most pleasant season of the year, the morning air was chilly and raw, and the dismal conglomeration of clouds rising from the sea surrounded us on all sides, and shrouded the distant view to the plain of Beirut and the coast. We departed at seven o'clock, and the sky soon began to clear up. At another khan, er-Rawish, we met a large caravan returning from Damascus with a quantity of hides; and on the steep descent of a western spur of the Lebanon, which northward sinks precipitously down on the deep valley of el-Metn, we distin-ly cultivated plain toward the river Litary guished the picturesque village Humana, embosomed in groves of pines, cypresses, and far-spreading olive woods, above which arise the towers of the convent el-Rhugin. Beyond the lower ridges, the view extends to the large monastery Deir-Mar-Yohanna, well known from the Arab printing establishment, and the many religious and miscellaneous works published there during the last century. At noon we approached the pass el-Mughitheh, and the distant blue mountains of the Anti-Lebanon, beyond the broad valley of the Buka'a, seemed to fill out the deep gap between the high, rugged, and totally barren tops of the Lebanon. We descended through a winding defile to the Khan Murad, where we stopped and left our horses grazing on the border of a large brook, Ain-el-Hajel, carrying down the waters from Jebel-Kuneiyseh, and forming | a pretty cataract near the khan. In another hour we arrived at the castle and village of Kabyleh, where we for the first time enjoyed the full view of the plain of the Buka'a, the ancient Coele Syria, and the entire ridge of the Anti-Lebanon as far as the great Hermon or Jebel-es-Sheik, all covered with snow, and beautifully glittering in the deep blue sky. The castle of Kabyleh, formerly commanding the pass, now lies in ruins. It was destroyed during the wars of the Metawileh and the Druze chieftain Emir-Beshir. The caravan road does not descend there to the plain, but it continues on the eastern slope of JebelKuneiyseh through a beautiful variety of pine, agnus castus, and oak, crossing nemerous rills to the large village el-Mekse We here struck across the fertile but thi The snow-clad heights of Jebel-Rihan, the loftiest ridge of the Lebanon, now appeared on the east, while the coast, with Beirut, the bays of St. George and Juneh, stretched far below, and the broad belt of the Mediterranean, here and there studded with a white sail on the horizon, closed the nificent panorama on the west. Galloping briskly along on the green-swand on a hill near the river, and resolved to spend the Sabbath there as quietly as we might. Our Maronite muleteers now fastened lines along the tents, to which they . tied the horses, throwing heaps of green barley and grass before them, while Mustapha kindled a fire between piles of stones and prepared our supper. The site of our encampment was highly beautiful. It was placed on a hillock, north of el-Merdj, surrounded by cornfields; in front at a distance of eight miles we had the lofty, rugged range of the Lebanon, whose steep and precipitous off sets toward the plain were partly covered with wood, the snowy peaks of JebelKuneiyseh and Jebel-Sunnin glittering brilliantly in the sun, just setting behind them. Opposite, in the east, rose the more barren chain of the Anti-Lebanon, terminating on the south-east with the huge bulk of Jebel-es-Sheik, which formed an immense dome of snow like Mont Blanc in Savoy. Its shining glaciers descended along its ravines towards the lower regions from which numerous rills flow down to the Litany, the Hasbeiya and the Jordan. North and south, the plain of the Buka'a, partly cultivated, but all over covered with the most luxurious carpets of fragrant flowers and shrubs, extends between the two parallel ridges. On the north it opens towards Ba'albek, out on the south at a distance of eight niles, near the pass of esh-Shukif, the surounding mountains close the view. Deslation is the general feature of the plain, nd few trees are to be seen on the banks of he Litany. Zahleb, the most populous >wn on the eastern slope of Mount Lebaɔn, is not seen from el-Merdj, being hid y a projecting range of rocks, nor the ore distant ruins of Ba'albek; but on the uth-east of the Anti-Lebanon appears the llage and tower of el-Andjar, and nearer ta hill the ruins of a castle, which seems rmerly to have defended the passage of e stone bridge over the Litany river, the r-Temmir. The sun now set behind the Lebanon, loring the snows on the eastern mounns with the gorgeous tints of evening. e plain and surrounding heights were on reposing in the shade of night, but e lofty peak of the Hermon still for a gwhile continued all in a blaze, reflectits deep purple hues on the upper sky. We walked through the fields, enjoying the refreshing evening breeze and the rural tranquillity around us, and then partook of a frugal supper before the tents, without being troubled by the importunate curiosity of the villagers, as at Bereitan and other places in the Buka'a. The following Sunday, the 18th of May, we as usual made a day of rest. A large caravan of Druzes from the Hauran, east of Damascus, passed our encampment and confirmed the report of the perfect safety of that part of the country. Soon afterwards a brilliant cavalcade of Turks, with their ladies and slaves, arrived from Damascus, and after a short halt on the banks of the river proceeded on their route to Zahleh. The whole plain of the Litany now belongs to the Pashalic of Damascus. The southern part of it, properly called the Buka'a, is inhabited by Mohammedans and Maronite Christians; the northern district of Baalbek by the Metawileh or Mutoualis, Muslim heretics of the sect of Aly. During the middle of the 18th century they formed a warlike tribe, mustering more than 10,000 well-armed horse, who, in the year 1807, subdued the whole plain, and capturing Sour (Tyre) on the coasts of the Mediterranean, succeeded in keeping up their communication with France and Italy. But being vanquished in many bloody conflicts, by the Druze chieftain, EmirBeshir, they lost Zahleh, their stronghold on the Lebanon, and were driven back to the plain. Ba'albek, their capital, was burnt and all their villages on the Anti-Lebanon destroyed. Thus the Metawileh lost their influence and power, and the few remaining wrecks of this fanatic sect are now fast mouldering away and may perhaps soon disappear altogether. These religious wars between the different tribes of Syria, the more recent military operations of Ibrahim-Pasha, and the long encampment of his numerous cavalry in the plain during the years 1836-40, have almost annihilated the population and agriculture of this fertile, healthy, and delightful region. The river Litany-the ancient Leonteshas its principal source at Tell-Hushbein in the upper valley, four or five miles west of Ba'albek. In its course south, through the plain, it receives several rivulets and the fine, copious stream el-Berduny, descend- | Lebanon and the opposite range of the ing from the Lebanon through the city of Anti-Lebanon. Zahleh. At the bridge of el-Merdj, its breadth is only twenty feet; further down, the plain straitens to a narrow dell, and the iver passes in a western direction through a gorge between precipices of immense height. These rocks are formed on the north by the wild cliffs of esh-Shukif, where still are seen the ruins of the extensive Castle of Belfort, often mentioned in the history of the Crusades, and on the south by the lower chain of Merdj-Ayun, running down towards Safed and the lake of Tiberias. Emerging from the mountains and changing its name to elKasimiyeh, it discharges itself into the Mediterranean, three miles north of Sour, (Tyre,) at the old ruinous khan el-Kasimiyeh. From the high-vaulted bridge near the khan, we, on our pilgrimage to Jerusalem in March, had enjoyed a most delightful view of the river, whose source in the upper Buka'a we were going to visit a fortnight later. Next morning, Monday the 20th, we were detained for some hours by an unpleasant accident, which, during the night before, had befallen our horses. Not being accustomed to the fat green barley, which our muleteers had heaped before them, some of the horses suddenly contracted a swelling of the stomach, which proved fatal to a fine bay horse belonging to one of the gentlemen. The Maronite villagers were of course as ignorant of veterinary affairs as the muleteers; they all gathered around the poor animal, struggling on the ground, but were unable to give it the least assistance. The drivers, bewailing their expiring horse, rent their turbans in utter dismay, and galloped up and down with the other horses in order to keep them in constant motion and prevent the injurious effects of the fresh grass which they had swallowed too copiously. All the inhabitants of the village had surrounded our tents, and it was not without a good deal of clamor and quarrelling that we got another horse from the village to serve for the journey to Damascus, and afterwards to be sent back from Beirut. The morning was again rainy and cold, and the clouds hung on the mountains like a gray ceiling, spread out between the At seven o'clock we were in the saddle, and striking across the plain, we arrived in an hour at the base of this latter ridge, where, on one of its projecting spurs, we passed a ruinous castle, and another miserable village. Although a heavy shower was falling fast all the while, we continued our trot through the stony, barren and dreary chains of the Anti-Lebanon, leaving at a small distance on our right a solitary mill, and approached at noon the pass of Wady-el-Kurun, (the valley of the horn,) a rugged, deep dell, having high limestone rocks on both sides, partly topped with stunted fir and oak. This is the dangerous defile where caravans so often are attacked and plundered by the roving Druzes of Hasbeiya. I had ex pected that our route would ascend to some high table-land, with far-extending views to the plains of the Buka'a, Damas cus and the Hauran, but I was sadly disappointed, when we almost imperceptibly approached the water-shed of the AntiLebanon, without obtaining any distant prospect at all. Indeed, at a distance of six hours' ride from el-Merdj, we were again descending along a clear, purling brook, running eastward to the plain of Damascus. The heat in the deep glen be came very oppressive. We therefore dsmounted among the thorny hedges, which hemmed in the path, and preparing awning with the canvas of our tents, enjoyed our lunch near the brook. T scenery was wild, but pleasing; herds a cattle and goats were grazing on the banks At two o'clock P. M. we departed for the village of Demas. Following the bro we soon cleared the high-peaked most tain, and entered upon a still more barre and hilly country. Immense swarms locusts were rattling and whizzing arou us in all directions. The ground literally covered with them, and flutte in thick masses around our horses, they almost obscured the rays of the sun. Tat were of that large light-brown species had formerly seen at Athens, where Greek government paid the ohha fifty leptà or eight cents, in order t duce the Albanian peasants of Att.. destroy them in their nests early m spring. Be At a distance of five miles on the north | through the desert region, when all on a we distinguished the dark stripe of the sudden a distant view of the beautiful beautiful gardens and olive-groves border- plain of Damascus opened upon us. ing the river Burradà, on its course towards yond the dusty and sunburnt rocks in Damascus. From the top of a steep, the foreground, the immense Ghutahbarren hill, which we reached at four the paradise of es-Shem-stretched easto'clock, a most singular prospect extended ward, and was bounded on the north before us. Not a single tree or green by the hills of Kashioun, and on the south speck appeared on the undulating horizon, by the more distant violet-tinged mountains where distant yellow and sandy hills of el-Hauran, while on the dim and hazy obstructed the view on all sides. But in horizon we distinguished the extensive lake the south arose the gigantic masses of Bahr el-Merdj, (the Lake of the Meadow,) Mount Hermon, clad in its glittering hel- wherein the Burrada, descending from the met, and north, the steep ravines of the Anti-Lebanon and watering the Ghutah, Anti-Lebanon, stretching away toward empties itself. From out the thick-set Zebdany on the road to Ba'albek. Before groves and gardens, like a vast forest us lay the village of Demas at the base of spreading throughout the whole plain, the hill. The terraced inclosures, an an- arises the noble city of Dimeshk or Dacient aqueduct, and other ruins showed it mascus, with its numerous mosques, cupoto have been formerly a thriving town, and las, minarets and towers, embellishing the it is still the resting place of the caravans view and breaking the outline of the white between Damascus and Beirut. The low, flat-roofed buildings, which extend in an flat-roofed huts were all built of mud, immense length of three or four miles, but they looked clean and snug compared north and south, while the breadth of the with those of the Buka'a. The Arab in- city is comparatively very small. On our habitants kindly offered us their dwellings left the river Burrada, issuing from the for our accommodation; but the weather mountains in many rivulets, diffuses itself being fine we preferred pitching our tents through the gardens, and beyond it, on a on a hill outside the village in front of the height, appears on light arches a large majestic Jebel-es-Sheik, where, surrounded Saracenic kubbet, or cupola, consecrated by the lilac-colored hills of the desert and to the most revered of all the mystical in expectation within a few hours of be- Sheiks, Mohijeddin-al-Arabi. holding the wonders of Damascus, we passed a delightful evening. At sunrise next morning, all was bustle n our little camp. Our breakfast was oon finished, the tents struck, and we tarted at six o'clock through the most leak and dreary region I ever saw. Now nd then we had a glimpse of the distant alley of the Burrada with its gardens nd groves, or we met some armed parties f Turks, or a caravan of Maronite muleers returning from Damascus; but the onotony of the landscape was continually creasing, when, three hours after leaving emas, we descended into a defile surunded by high conical hills, which looked e extinct volcanoes, bare, brown, stony, d covered with parched grass and stuntshrubs. In vain I turned my horse off e caravan road and with some difficulty cended the heights. One range of alky hills was towering above another, d the heat became oppressive in this byrinth of straggling passages, winding This rich picture of fertility and life, bordering on the bleak and solitary desert, this glowing Oriental sky, diffusing such an indescribable charm over the landscape; even these light purple vapors, which like a faint and transparent shroud, arose above the gardens and the city, all contributed to enhance the enchanting effect of a scenery which, seen in a cold northern climate, beneath a gray and cloudy sky, would present nothing very remarkable. The glorious plain lay before us, and in order to impress on our memory this admirable prospect, we stopped for half an hour near a little round dome on the verge of the last spur of the mountain, immediately above the plain; but the heat being overpowering, and our attendants not yet making their appearance with the baggage, we galloped down to the gardens, and passing through a straggling hamlet on the outskirts of the groves, entered the shady retreat, and awaited the arrival of our muleteers on the banks of the riv |