A JOURNEY FROM ALEPPO TO JERUSALEM,

AT EASTER, A.D. 1697.

BY HENRY MAUNDRELL.

TO THE RIGHT REVEREND FATHER IN GOD, THOMAS, LORD BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.

My Lord,

From a large and constant experience of your lordship's favour, I have all reason to believe that you will not think it tedious to hear something of my affairs, though in themselves below your lordship's notice and regard.

It is now more than twelve months since I arrived in this place, during all which time I have had opportunity enough perfectly to observe and discover the genius of the factory among whom my lot is fallen; and upon the result of all my experience of them I am obliged to give them this just commendation, that they are a society highly meriting that excellent character which is given of them in England, and which (besides the general vogue) your lordship has some time received from a most faithful and judicious hand, the excellent bishop Frampton. As he undoubtedly was the great improver of the rare temper of this society, so he may well be esteemed best able to give them their true and deserved character. I need only add, that such they still continue as that incomparable instructor left them; that is, pious, sober, benevolent, devout in the offices of religion, in conversation innocently cheerful, given to no pleasures but such as are honest and manly, to no communications but such as the nicest ears need not be offended at, exhibiting in all their actions those best and truest signs of a Christian spirit, a sincere and cheerful friendship among themselves, a generous charity toward others, and a profound reverence for the liturgy and constitution of the Church of England. It is our first employment, every morning, to solemnize the daily service of the church, at which I am sure to have always a devout, a regular, and full congregation. In a word, I can say no more (and less I am sure I ought not) than this, that in all my experience in the world I have never known a society of young gentlemen, whether in the city or country, (I had almost said the University, too,) so well disposed, in all points, as this.

Your lordship will conclude that, in consequence of all this, my present station cannot but be very agreeable; and though, in leaving England, I was separated from the greatest blessings to me in the world, your lordship's kindness and that of my friends at Richmond, yet I must own I have found here as much recompense as could be made for such a separation.

Among other satisfactions, one great one, which I have had since my arrival, was a voyage to the Holy Land, in company with fourteen others of our factory. We went by way of the coast; and, having visited several places consecrated by the life and death of our blessed Lord, we returned by way of Damascus. If there be any thing, either in these places which I have visited, or elsewhere in these countries, touching which I may be capable of giving your lordship any satisfaction by my poor observations, I should esteem it my great happiness, and my coming thus far would seem completely recompensed.

I entreat your lordship's blessing, as being your lordship's most dutiful, humble servant,

Henry Maundrell.

Aleppo.

There being several gentlemen of our nation (fourteen in number) determined for a visit to the Holy Land at the approaching Easter, I resolved, though but newly come to Aleppo, to make one in the same design, considering that, as it was my purpose to undertake this pilgrimage some time or other before my return to England, so I could never do it either with less prejudice to my cure[526], or with greater pleasure to myself, than at this juncture, having so large a part of my congregation abroad at the same time, and in my company.

Pursuant to this resolution, we set out from Aleppo, Friday, February 26th, 1696 (i. e. Feb. 1697), at three in the afternoon, intending to make only a short step that evening, in order to prove how well we were provided with necessaries for our journey. Our quarters, this first night, we took up at the Honey-khan, a place of but indifferent accommodation, about one hour and a half west of Aleppo.

It must here be noted that, in travelling this country, a man does not meet with a market-town and inns every night, as in England. The best reception you can find here is either under your own tent, if the season permit; or else in certain public lodgments, founded in charity for the use of travellers. These are called by the Turks khani; and are seated sometimes in the towns and villages, sometimes at convenient distances upon the open road. They are built in fashion of a cloister, encompassing a court of thirty or forty yards square, more or less, according to the measure of the founder's ability or charity. At these places all comers are free to take shelter, paying only a small fee to the khan-keeper (khanji), and very often without that acknowledgment; but must expect nothing here but bare walls. As for other accommodations of meat, drink, bed, fire, provender, with these it must be every one's care to furnish himself.

Feb. 27.—From the Honey-khan we parted very early the next morning, and, proceeding westerly as the day before, arrived in one hour and a half at Oo-rem (Ur-im), an old village affording nothing remarkable but the ruins of a small church. From Oo-rem we came, in half an hour, to Kaffre; and in three quarters more to Essoyn (Es-aïn). īAt this last place we entered into the plains of Kefteen (Kaftīn), proceeding in which, we came, in one hour, to another village called Legene; and in half an hour more, to Hozano; and in a good hour more, to Kefteen. Our whole stage this day was about five hours; our course a little southerly of the west.

The plains of Kefteen are of a vast compass, extending to the southward beyond the reach of the eye, and in most places very fruitful and well cultivated. At our first descent into them, at Essoyn, we counted twenty-four villages, or places at a distance resembling villages, within our view from one station. The soil is of a reddish colour, very loose and hollow, and you see hardly a stone in it; whereas, on its west side, there runs along, for many miles together, a high ridge of hills, discovering nothing but vast naked rocks, without the least sign of mould or any useful production, which yields an appearance as if nature had, as it were, in kindness to the husbandman, purged the whole plain of these stones, and piled them all up together in that one mountain. Kefteen itself is a large, plentiful village, on the west side of the plain; and the adjacent villages, abounding with corn, give the inhabitants great advantages for breeding pigeons, insomuch that you find here more dove-cots than other houses. We saw at this place, over the door of a bagnio, a marble stone, carved with the sign of the cross, and the Δόξα Πατρὶ, &c., with a date not legible. It was probably the portal of some church in ancient times; for I was assured by the inhabitants of the village that there are many ruins of churches and convents still to be seen in the neighbouring rocky mountains.

Sunday, Feb. 28.—Having a long stage to go this day, we left Kefteen very early; and continuing still in the same fruitful plain, abounding in corn, olives, and vines, we came in three quarters of an hour to Harbanoose ('Arbanūs), a small village situated at the extremity of the plain, where, after crossing a small ascent, we came into a very rich valley called Rooge. It runs to the south farther than one can discern; but in breadth, from east to west, it extends not above an hour's riding, and is walled in (as it were) on both sides, with high, rocky mountains. Having travelled in this valley near four hours, we came to a large water called the lake (or rather, according to the oriental style, the sea) of Rooge. Through the skirt of this lake we were obliged to pass, and found it no small trouble to get our horses, and much more our loaded mules, through the water and mire; but all the sea was so dried up, and the road so perfectly amended at our return, that we could not then discern so much as where the place was which had given us so great trouble. From this lake we arrived, in one hour, at Te-ne-ree, a place where we paid our first caphar.

These caphars are certain duties which travellers are obliged to pay, at several passes upon the road, to officers, who attend in their appointed stations to receive them. They were at first levied by Christians, to yield a recompense to the country for maintaining the ways in good repair, and scouring them from Arabs and robbers. The Turks keep up so gainful an usage still, pretending the same causes for it; but, under that pretence, they take occasion to exact from passengers, especially Franks, arbitrary and unreasonable sums, and, instead of being a safeguard, prove the greatest rogues and robbers themselves.

At a long hour beyond this caphar our road led us over the mountains on the west side of the valley of Rooge. We were near an hour in crossing them, after which we descended into another valley, running parallel to the former, and parted from it only by the last ridge of hills. At the first descent into this valley is a village called Bell-Maez[527], from which we came, in two hours, to Shoggle (Jisr Shogher). Our course was, for the most part of this day, west-south-west. Our stage, in all, ten hours.

Shoggle is a pretty large, but exceedingly filthy town, situated on the river Orontes, over which you pass by a bridge of thirteen small arches to come at the town. The river hereabouts is of a good breadth; and yet so rapid that it turns great wheels, made for lifting up the water, by its natural swiftness, without any force added to it by confining its stream. Its waters are turbid and very unwholesome, and its fish worse, as we found by experience, there being no person of all our company, that had eaten of them over night, but found himself much indisposed the next morning. We lodged here in a very handsome khan, far exceeding what is usually seen in this sort of buildings. It was founded by the second Kuper-li, and endowed with a competent revenue for supplying every traveller that takes up his quarters in it with a competent portion of bread, and broth, and flesh, which is always ready for those that demand it, as very few people of the country fail to do. There is annexed to the khan, on the west side, another quadrangle, containing apartments for a certain number of alms-men, the charitable donation of the same Kuper-li. The khan we found, at our arrival, crowded with a great number of Turkish hadgees, or pilgrims, bound for Mecca; but, nevertheless, we met with a peaceable reception amongst them, though our faces were set to a different place.

March 1.—From Shoggle our road led us at first westerly, in order to our crossing the mountain on that side the valley. We arrived at the foot of the ascent in half an hour; but met with such rugged and foul ways in the mountains, that it took us upwards of two hours to get clear of them, after which we descended into a third valley, resembling the other two which we had passed before. At the first entrance into it is a village called Be-da-me, giving the same name also to the valley. Having travelled about two hours in this valley, we entered into a woody, mountainous country, which ends the pashalick of Aleppo and begins that of Tripoli. Our road here was very rocky and uneven; but yet the variety which it afforded made some amends for that inconvenience. Sometimes it led us under the cool shade of thick trees; sometimes through narrow valleys, watered with fresh, murmuring torrents; and then, for a good while together, upon the brink of a precipice; and in all places it treated us with the prospect of plants and flowers of divers kinds, as myrtles, oleanders, cyclamens, anemones, tulips, marygolds, and several other sorts of aromatic herbs. Having spent about two hours in this manner, we descended into a low valley, at the bottom of which is a fissure into the earth of a great depth, but withal so narrow that it is not discernible to the eye till you arrive just upon it, though to the ear a notice of it is given at a great distance, by reason of the noise of a stream running down into it from the hills. We could not guess it to be less than thirty yards deep; but it is so narrow that a small arch, not four yards over, lands you on its other side. They call it the Sheikh's Wife, a name given it from a woman of that quality, who fell into it, and, I need not add, perished. The depth of the channel and the noise of the water are so extraordinary, that one cannot pass over it without something of horror. The sides of this fissure are firm and solid rock, perpendicular and smooth, only seeming to lie in a wavy form all down, as it were to comply with the motion of the water, from which observation we were led to conjecture that the stream, by a long and perpetual current, had, as it were, sawn its own channel down into this unusual deepness, to which effect the water being penned up in so narrow a passage, and its hurling down stones along with it by its rapidity, may have not a little contributed[528].

From hence, continuing our course through a road resembling that before described, we arrived, in one hour, at a small, even piece of ground, called Hadjar-il-Sultan, or the Sultan's Stone; and here we took up our quarters this night, under our tents. Our road, this day, pointed for the most part south-west; and the whole of our stage was about seven hours and a half.

March 2.—We were glad to part very early this morning from our campagnia lodging, the weather being yet too moist and cold for such discipline. Continuing our journey through woods and mountains, as the day before, we arrived, in about one hour, at the caphar of Crusia (Krusiyeh), which is demanded near a khan of that name. A khan they call it, though it is, in truth, nothing else but a cold, comfortless ruin, on the top of a hill by the way-side.

From hence, in about another hour, we arrived at the foot of a mountain called Occaby (Akabi), or, as the word denotes, Difficult; and indeed we found its ascent fully answerable to its name. The moisture and slipperiness of the way at this time, added to the steepness of it, greatly increased our labour in ascending it, insomuch that we were a full hour in gaining the top of the hill. Here we found no more woods or hills; but a fine country, well cultivated and planted with silk gardens, through which, leaving on the right hand a village called Citte Galle, inhabited solely by Maronites, we came in one hour to Bellulca. Here we repaired to a place which is both the khan of the village and the aga's house; and resolving, by reason of the rains, which fell very plentifully, to make this our lodging, we went to visit the aga, with a small present in our hands, in order to procure ourselves a civil reception. But we found little recompense from his Turkish gratitude; for, after all our respect to him, it was not without much importunity that we obtained permission to have the use of a dry part of the house, the place where we were at first lodged lying open to the wind and the beating in of the rain. Our whole stage, this day, was not much above four hours; our course about south-west.

Being informed that there were several Christian inhabitants in this place, we went to visit their church, which we found so poor and pitiful a structure, that here Christianity seemed to be brought to its humblest state, and Christ to be laid again in a manger. It was only a room of about four or five yards square, walled with dirt, having nothing but the uneven ground for its pavement; and for its ceiling, only some rude staves laid across it, and covered with bushes to keep out the weather. On the east side was an altar, built of the same materials with the wall; only it was paved at the top with potsherds and slates, to give it the face of a table. In the middle of the altar stood a small cross, composed of two laths nailed together in the middle, on each side of which ensign were fastened to the wall two or three old prints, representing our blessed Lord and the blessed Virgin, &c., the venerable presents of some itinerant friars that had passed this way. On the south side was a piece of plank supported by a post, which we understood was the reading desk, just by which was a little hole commodiously broke through the wall to give light to the reader. A very mean habitation this for the God of heaven! but yet held in great esteem and reverence by the poor people, who not only come with all devotion hither themselves, but also deposit here whatever is most valuable to them, in order to derive upon it a blessing. When we were there, the whole room was hung about with bags of silkworms' eggs, to the end that, by remaining in so holy a place, they might attract a benediction, and a virtue of increasing.

March 3.—The next morning flattered us with the hopes of a fair day, after the great rains which had fallen for near eight hours together. We therefore ventured to leave Bellulca, with no great thanks to it for our entertainment. But we had not gone far, before we began to wish that we had kept our former accommodation, bad as it was, for the rains began to break out afresh with greater fury than before; nor had we more comfort under foot, the road being very deep and full of sloughs. However, we resolved to go forward, in hopes of a better time, and in four hours (very long ones in such uncomfortable circumstances) we arrived at Sholfatia, a poor village situate upon a small river which we were obliged to pass. A river we might call it now, it being swollen so high by the late rains that it was impassable, though at other times it be but a small brook, and in the summer perfectly dry.

Here, instead of mending our condition, as we expected, we began to drink more deeply of the bitter cup of pilgrims, being brought to such a strait that we knew not which way to turn ourselves. For (as I said) the stream was not fordable, so that there was no going forward; and, as for facing about and returning to the place from whence we came, that was a thing we were very averse to, well knowing, by that morning's experience, the badness of the road, and likewise having reason to expect but a cold welcome at our journey's end. As for lodging in the village, that was a thing not to be endured; for the houses were all filled with dirt and nastiness, being inhabited promiscuously by the villagers and their cattle. As for lying in the campagnia, the rain was so vehement, we could not do that without an evident danger both to ourselves and horses.

But whilst we were at this nonplus, not knowing which course to take, the rain abated, and so we resolved to pitch in the open field, though thoroughly soaked with the wet, esteeming this however the least evil. Accordingly, we betook ourselves to a small ascent by the water-side, intending there, under our tents, to wait the falling of the stream.

We had not enjoyed this cessation of rain long, when it began to pour down afresh, with terrible lightning and thunder. And now our care was renewed, and we knew not well which to be most concerned for; whether ourselves, who enjoyed the miserable comfort of a dropping tent over us, or for our servants and horses, which had nothing but their own clothes to protect them. At last, there being a small Sheikh's house, or burying-place hard by, we comforted ourselves with hopes that we might take sanctuary there. The only difficulty was how to get admission into so reverenced a place, the Turks being generally men of greater zeal than mercy. To negotiate this affair, we sent a Turk (whom we had taken with us for such occasions) into the village, ordering him to try first by fair means to gain admittance, and, if that failed, to threaten that we would enter by force. But the religion of this place was of that kind which supersedes instead of improving humanity. The people absolutely denied us the small charity we demanded, and sent us word they would die upon our swords before they would yield to have their faith defiled; adding, farther, that it was their faith to be true to Hamet and Aly, but to hate and renounce Omar and Abu Beker, and that this principle they were resolved to stand by. We told them we had as bad an opinion of Omar and Abu Beker as they could have; that we desired only a little shelter from the present rain, and had no intention to defile their faith. And thus, with good words, we brought them to consent that we might secure our baggage in the Sheikh's house; but, as for ourselves and arms, it was our irreversible sentence to be excluded out of hallowed walls. We were glad, however, to get the merciless doors open upon any terms, not doubting but we should be able to make our advantage of it afterwards, according to our desire, which we actually did; for when it grew dark, and the villagers were gone to sleep, we all got into the places of refuge, and there passed a melancholy night among the tombs; thus escaping, however, the greater evil of the rain, which fell all night in great abundance.

Being now crept into the inside of the Sheikh's house, I must not omit, in requital for our lodgings, to give some account of the nature of such structures. They are stone fabrics, generally six or eight yards square (more or less), and roofed with a cupola, erected over the graves of some eminent Sheikhs; that is, such persons, as by their long beards, prayers of the same standard, and a kind of Pharisaical superciliousness (which are the great virtues of the Mohammedan religion), have purchased to themselves the reputation of learning and saints. Of these buildings there are many scattered up and down the country (for you will find among the Turks far more dead saints than living ones). They are situated commonly, though not always, upon the most eminent and conspicuous ascents. To these oratories the people repair with their vows and prayers, in their several distresses, much after the same manner as the Romanists do to the shrines of their saints. Only in this respect the practice of the Turks seems to be more orthodox, in regard that though they make their saint's shrine the house of prayer, yet they always make God alone, and not the saint, the object of their addresses.

March 4.—To revive us after the heaviness of the last night, we had the consolation to be informed this morning, that the river was fordable at a place a little farther down the stream; and, upon experiment, we found it true as was reported. Glad of this discovery, we made the best despatch we could to get clear of this inhospitable place, and, according to our desires, soon arrived with all our baggage on the other side of the river.

From hence, ascending gently for about half an hour, we came to the foot of a very steep hill, which, when we had reached, its top presented us with the first prospect of the ocean. We had in view, likewise, at about two hours' distance to the westward, the city Latichea (Latakiyah), situate on a flat fruitful ground close by the sea; a city first built by Seleucus Nicator, and by him called in honour of his mother, Λαοδίκεια, which name it retains, with a very little corruption of it, to this day. It was anciently a place of great magnificence, but in the general calamity which befell this country it was reduced to a very low condition, and so remained for a long time. But of late years it has been encouraged to hold up its head again, and is rebuilt, and become one of the most flourishing places upon the coast, being cherished and put in a way of trade by Kaplan Aga, a man of great wealth and authority in these parts, and much addicted to merchandise.

From the hill which we last ascended, we had a small descent into a spacious plain, along which we travelled southward, keeping the sea on the right hand, and a ridge of mountains on the left. Having gone about one hour and a half in this plain, we discerned on the left hand, not far from the road, two ancient tombs. They were chests of stone, each two yards and a half long. Their cavities were covered over with large tables of stone, that had been lifted aside probably in hopes of treasure. The chests were carved on the outside with ox-heads, and wreaths hanging between them, after the manner of adorning heathen altars. They had likewise, at first, inscriptions graven on them; but these were so eaten out, that one could not discover so much as the species of the characters. Here were also several foundations of buildings; but whether there were ever any place of note situated hereabouts, or what it might be, I cannot resolve.

Above an hour from these tombs we came to another stream, which stopped our march again. These mountain rivers are ordinarily very inconsiderable, but they are apt to swell upon sudden rains, to the destruction of many a passenger, who will be so hardy as to venture unadvisedly over them. We took a more successful care at this place; for, marching about an hour higher up by the side of the stream, we found a place where the waters by dilating were become shallower, and there we got a safe passage to the other side. From hence we bent our course to recover our former road again; but we had not got far before there began a very violent storm of hail, followed by a hard and continued rain, which forced us to make the best of our way to Jebilee, leaving our baggage to follow us at leisure.

Our whole stage this day was about six hours, pointing for the first hour west, and for the remaining part near south, having the sea on the right hand, and a ridge of mountains at about two hours' distance on the left. And in this state our road continued for several days after, without any difference, save only that the mountains at some places approach nearer the sea, at other, retire farther off. These mountains go under different names in several places, as they run along upon the coast, and are inhabited by rude people of several denominations. In that part of them above Jebilee, there dwell a people, called by the Turks Neceres[529], of a very strange and singular character; for it is their principle to adhere to no certain religion, but, chameleon-like, they put on the colour of religion whatever it be, which is reflected upon them from the persons with whom they happen to converse. With Christians they profess themselves Christians; with Turks they are good Mussulmans; with Jews they pass for Jews; being such Proteuses in religion, that nobody was ever able to discover what shape or standard their consciences are really of. All that is certain concerning them is, that they make very much and good wine, and are great drinkers.

March 5.—This whole day we spent at Jebilee, to recruit ourselves after our late fatigues; having the convenience of a new khan to lodge in, built at the north entrance into the city, by Ustan, the present pasha of Tripoli.

Jebilee is seated close by the sea, having a vast and very fruitful plain stretching round about it, on its other sides. It makes a very mean figure at present; though it still retains the distinction of a city, and discovers evident footsteps of a better condition in former times. Its ancient name, from which also it derives its present, was Gabala, under which name it occurs in Strabo, and other old geographers. In the time of the Greek emperors, it was dignified with a bishop's see, in which sometimes sat Severian the grand adversary and arch-conspirator against St. Chrysostom.

The most remarkable things that appear here at this day are a mosque, and an almshouse just by it, both built by sultan Ibrahim. In the former his body is deposited, and we were admitted to see his tomb, though held by the Turks in great veneration. We found it only a great wooden chest, erected over his grave, and covered with a carpet of painted calico, extending on all sides down to the ground. It was also tricked up with a great many long ropes of wooden beads hanging upon it, and somewhat resembling the furniture of a button-maker's shop. This is the usual way the Turks adorn the tombs of their holy men, as I have seen in several other instances; the long strings of beads passing in this country for marks of great devotion and gravity. In this mosque we saw several large incense pots, candlesticks for altars, and other church furniture, being the spoils of Christian churches at the taking of Cyprus. Close by the mosque is a very beautiful bagnio, and a small grove of orange-trees, under the shade of which travellers are wont to pitch their tents in the summer-time.

The Turks that were our conductors into the mosque, entertained us with a long story of this sultan Ibrahim who lies there interred; especially touching his mortification, and renouncing the world. They reported that, having divested himself of his royalty, he retired hither, and lived twenty years in a grotto by the sea-side, dedicating himself wholly to poverty and devotion; and, in order to confirm the truth of their relation, they pretended to carry us to the very cell where he abode. Being come to the place, we found there a multitude of sepulchres hewn into the rocks by the sea-side, according to the ancient manner of burying in this country. And amongst these they showed one, which they averred to be the very place in which the devout sultan exercised his twenty years' discipline; and, to add a little probability to the story, they showed, at a small distance, another grotto twice as large as any of its fellows, and uncovered at the top, which had three niches or praying places hewn in its south side. This they would have to be sultan Ibrahim's oratory; it being the manner of the Turks always to make such niches in their mosques and other places of devotion, to denote the southern quarter of the world; for that way the Musselmans are obliged to set their faces when they pray, in reverence to the tomb of their prophet. These niches are always formed exactly resembling those usually made for statues, both in their size, fabric, and every circumstance. I have sometimes reflected for what reason the Turks should appoint such marks to direct their faces toward in prayer. And if I may be allowed to conjecture, I believe they did it at first in testimony of their iconoclastic principle, and to express to them both the reality of the divine presence there, and at the same time also its invisibility. The relators of this story of sultan Ibrahim were doubtless fully persuaded of the truth of it themselves. But we could not tell what conjectures to make of it, having never met with any account of such a sultan, but only from this rude tradition.

From these Mahomedan sanctuaries, our guide pretended to carry us to a Christian church, about two furlongs out of the town on the south side. When we came to it, we found it nothing but a small grotto in a rock, by the sea-shore, open on the side towards the sea; and having a rude pile of stones erected in it for an altar. In our return from this poor chapel, we met with the person who was the curate of it. He told us that himself and some few other Christians of the Greek communion were wont to assemble in this humble cell for divine service, not being permitted to have any place of worship within the town.

Jebilee seems to have had anciently some convenience for shipping. There is still to be seen a ridge composed of huge square stones running a little way into the sea, which appears to have been formerly continued farther on, and to have made a mole. Near this place we saw a great many pillars of granite, some by the water-side, others tumbled into the water. There were others in a garden close by, together with capitals of white marble finely carved, which testify in some measure the ancient splendour of this city.

But the most considerable antiquity in Jebilee, and the greatest monument of its former eminence, is the remains of a noble theatre just at the north gate of the city. It passes amongst the Turks for an old castle, which (according to the Asiatic way of enlarging) they report to have been of so prodigious a height, when in its perfect state, that a horseman might have rode, about sun-rising, a full hour in the shade of it.

As for what remains of this mighty Babel, it is no more than twenty feet high. The flat side of it has been blown up with gunpowder by the Turks. And from hence (as they related) was taken a great quantity of marble, which we saw used in adorning their bagnio and mosque before mentioned. All of it that is now standing is the semicircle. It extends from corner to corner just a hundred yards. In this semicircular part is a range of seventeen round windows just above the ground, and between the windows all round were raised, on high pedestals, large massy pillars, standing as buttresses against the wall, both for the strength and ornament of the fabric; but these supporters are at present most of them broken down.

Within is a very large arena; but the just measure of it could not be taken, by reason of the houses with which the Turks have almost filled it up. On the west side the seats of the spectators remain still entire, as likewise do the caves or vaults which run under the subsellia all round the theatre. The outward wall is three yards three quarters thick, and built of very large and firm stones, which great strength has preserved it thus long from the jaws of time, and from that general ruin which the Turks bring with them into most places where they come.

March 6.—Having done with Jebilee, we put forward again early the next morning, with a prospect of much better weather than we had been attended with in our former motions. Our road continued by the sea-side, and in about two hours brought us to a fair deep river, called by the Turks Nahr-il-Melech, or the King's River. Here we saw some heaps of ruins on both sides of the river, with several pillars of granite, and other footsteps of some considerable buildings. About half an hour farther we passed another river called Jobar, showing the remains of a stone bridge over it, once well built, but now broken down. On the other side of this river, in a large ploughed field, stood a great square tower, and around about, the rubbish of many other buildings. Likewise, all along this day's journey, we observed many ruins of castles and houses, which testify that this country, however it be neglected at present, was once in the hands of a people that knew how to value it, and thought it worth defending. Strabo calls this whole region, from Jebilee as far as Aradus, the country of the Aradii (of whom in due place), and gives us the names of several places situate anciently along this coast, as Paltus, Balanea, Caranus, Enydra, Marathus, Ximyra. But whether the ruins which we saw this day, may be the remains of any of those cities, cannot well be determined at this distance of time, seeing all we have of those places is only their names, without any sufficient distinctions by which to discover their situation. The Balanea of Strabo is indeed said to be still extant, being supposed to be the same place that the Turks (little changing its name) call at this day Baneas. This place is four good hours beyond Jebilee. It stands upon a small declivity, about a furlong distant from the sea, and has a fine clear stream running swiftly by it on the south side. It is at present uninhabited, but its situation proves it to have been anciently a pleasant, its ruins a well-built, and its bay before it, an advantageous, habitation. At this place was required another caphar.

Leaving Baneas, we went on by the sea-side, and in about a quarter of an hour passed by an old castle, on the top of a very high mountain. It is built in the figure of an equilateral triangle, having one of its angles pointing towards the sea. The Turks call it Merchah[530], and enlarge much upon the sieges it has sustained in former times; but, whatever force it may have had anciently, it is at present only a residence for poor country people. This is probably the same castle mentioned by Adrichomius and others under the name of Margath, to which the bishops of Balanea were forced to translate their see, by reason of the insults of the Saracens.

At about one hour and a half distance from Baneas, we came to a small clear stream, which induced us to take up our lodging near it. We pitched in the campagnia about two or three furlongs up from the sea, having in sight on the mountains above us a village called Sophia, inhabited solely by Maronites; and a little farther Besack, another village possessed by Turks only; and a little farther Merakia, whose inhabitants are a miscellany of Christians and Turks together. Our whole stage, this day, was about six hours.

Sunday, March 7.—From this quarter we removed early the next morning, and in three hours came to a fair deep river called Nahr Hussain, having an old bridge turned over it, consisting of only one arch, but that very large and exceedingly well wrought. In one hour and a half more, travelling still by the sea-side, we reached Tortosa.

The ancient name of this place was Orthosia. It was a bishop's see in the province of Tyre. The writers of the holy wars make frequent mention of it, as a place of great strength. And one may venture to believe them, from what appears of it at this day.

Its situation is on the sea-shore, having a spacious plain extending around about it on its other sides. What remains of it is the castle, which is very large and still inhabited. On one side it is washed by the sea; on the other, it is fortified by a double wall of coarse marble, built after the rustic manner. Between the two walls is a ditch, as likewise is another encompassing the outermost wall. You enter this fortress on the north side, over an old drawbridge, which lands you in a spacious room, now for the most part uncovered, but anciently well arched over, being the church belonging to the castle. On one side it resembles a church, and, in witness of its being such, shows at this day several holy emblems carved upon its walls, as that of a dove descending, over the place where stood the altar, and in another place that of the Holy Lamb. But, on the side which fronts outwards, it has the face of a castle, being built with port-holes for artillery, instead of windows. Round the castle on the south and east sides anciently stood the city. It had a good wall and ditch encompassing it, of which there are still to be seen considerable remains. But for other buildings, there is nothing now left in it, except a church, which stands about a furlong eastward from the castle. It is one hundred and thirty feet in length, in breadth ninety-three, and in height sixty-one. Its walls, and arches, and pillars, are of a bastard marble, and all still so entire, that a small expense would suffice to recover it into the state of a beautiful church again. But, to the grief of any Christian beholder, it is now made a stall for cattle, and we were, when we went to see it, almost up to our knees in dirt and mire.

From Tortosa we sent our baggage before us, with orders to advance a few miles farther toward Tripoli, to the intent that we might shorten our stage to that place the next day. We followed not long after, and in about a quarter of an hour came to a river, or rather the channel of a river, for it was almost dry, though questionless there must have been anciently no inconsiderable stream, as we might infer both from the largeness of the channel, and the fragments of a stone bridge formerly laid over it.

In about half an hour more we came abreast of a small island, about a league distant from the shore, called by the Turks Ruad. This is supposed to be the ancient Arvad, Arphad, or Arpad (under which several names it occurs, 2 Kings, xix. 12; Gen. x. 18; Ezek. xxvii. 11, &c.), and the Aradus of the Greeks and Romans. It seemed to the eye to be not above two or three furlongs long, and was wholly filled up with tall buildings like castles. The ancient inhabitants of this island were famous for navigation, and had a command upon the continent as far as Gabala.

About a quarter of an hour farther we came up with our muleteers, they having pitched our tents, before they had gone so far as we intended. But this miscarriage they well recompensed, by the condition of the place where they stopped, it affording us the entertainment of several notable antiquities, which we might otherwise perhaps have passed by unobserved. It was at a green plot lying within one hour of Tortosa, a little southward of Aradus, and about a quarter of a mile from the sea, having in it a good fountain (though of a bad name) called the Serpent Fountain.

The first antiquity that we here observed was a large dyke, thirty yards over at top, cut in the solid rock. Its sides went sloping down, with stairs formed out of the natural rock, descending gradually from the top to the bottom. This dyke stretched in a direct line, east and west, more than a furlong, bearing still the same figure of stairs running in right lines all along its sides. It broke off at last at a flat marshy ground, extending about two furlongs between it and the sea. It is hard to imagine that the water ever flowed up thus high; and harder, without supposing that, to resolve for what reason all this pains of cutting the rock in such a fashion was taken.

This dyke was on the north side of the Serpent Fountain; and, just on the other side of it, we espied another antiquity, which took up our next observation. There was a court of fifty-five yards square, cut in the natural rock; the sides of the rock standing around it, about three yards high, supplied the place of walls. On three sides it was thus encompassed, but to the northward it lay open. In the centre of this area a square part of the rock was left standing, being three yards high and five yards and a half square. This served for a pedestal to a throne erected upon it. The throne was composed of large stones, two at the sides, one at the back, another hanging over all at top, in the manner of a canopy. The whole structure was about twenty feet high, fronting toward that side where the court was open. The stone that made the canopy was five yards and three quarters square, and carved round with a handsome cornice. What all this might be designed for, we could not imagine, unless, perhaps, the court may pass for an idol temple, and the pile in the middle for the throne of the idol; which seems the more probable, in regard that Hercules, i.e. the Sun, the great abomination of the Phœnicians, was wont to be adored in an open temple. At the two innermost angles of the court, and likewise on the open side, were left pillars of the natural rock, three at each of the former, and two at the latter.

About half a mile to the southward of the aforesaid antiquities, there stood in view two towers. But, it growing dark, we were forced to defer our examination of them till the next morning. Our whole stage this day exceeded not six hours.

March 8.—Having passed over a restless night, in a marshy and unwholesome ground, we got up very early, in order to take a nearer view of the two towers last mentioned. We found them to be sepulchral monuments, erected over two ancient burying-places. They stood at about ten yards' distance from each other.

The first was thirty-three feet high. Its longest stone or pedestal was ten feet high, and fifteen square. The super-structure upon which was first a tall stone in form of a cylinder, and then another stone cut in shape of a pyramid. The other tower was thirty feet and two inches high. Its pedestal was in height six feet, and sixteen feet six inches square. It was supported by four lions, carved one at each corner of the pedestal. The carving had been very rude at best, but was now rendered by time much worse. The upper part reared upon the pedestal was all one single stone.

Each of these barbarous monuments had under it several sepulchres, the entrances into which were on the south side. It cost us some time and pains to get into them, the avenues being obstructed, first with briars and weeds, and then with dirt. But, however, we removed both these obstacles, encouraging ourselves with the hopes, or rather making ourselves merry with the fancy, of hidden treasure. But, as soon as we were entered into the vaults, we found that our golden imaginations ended (as all worldly hopes and projects do at last) in dust and putrefaction. But, however, that we might not go away without some reward for our pains, we took as exact a survey as we could of these chambers of darkness, which were disposed in manner as follows.

The chambers under the first tower lie side by side. Going down seven or eight steps, you come to the mouth of the sepulchre, where crawling in you arrive in the first chamber, which is nine feet two inches broad, and eleven feet long. Turning to the right hand, and going through a narrow passage, you come to a room which is eight feet broad and ten long. In this chamber are seven cells for corpses, viz. two over against the entrance, four on the left hand, and one unfinished on the right. These cells were hewn directly into the firm rock. We measured several of them, and found them eight feet and a half in length, and three feet three inches square. I would not infer from hence, that the corpses deposited here were of such a gigantic size as to fill up such large coffins; though, at the same time, why should any men be so prodigal of their labour as to cut these caverns into so hard a rock as this was, much farther than necessity required?

On the other side of the first chamber was a narrow passage, seven feet long, leading into a room whose dimensions were nine feet in breadth and twelve in length. It had eleven cells of somewhat a less size than the former, lying at equal distances all round about it.

Passing out of the first room, you have, right before you, two narrow entrances, each seven feet long, into another room. This apartment was nine feet square. It had no cells in it like the others, nor any thing else remarkable, but only a bench, cut all along its side on the left hand. From the description of this sepulchre, it is easy to conceive the disposition of the other. The height of the rooms in both was about six feet, and the towers were built each over the innermost room of the sepulchres to which it belonged.

At about the distance of a furlong from this place, we discerned another tower, resembling this last described. It was erected likewise over a sepulchre. There was this singularity observable in this last sepulchre, that its cells were cut into the rock eighteen feet in length, possibly to the intent, that two or three corpses might be deposited in each of them, at the feet of one another. But, having a long stage this day to Tripoli, we thought it not seasonable to spend any more time in this place, which might perhaps have afforded us several other antiquities.

And yet, for all our haste, we had not gone a mile, before our curiosity was again arrested by the observation of another tower, which appeared in a thicket not far from the wayside. It was thirty-three feet and a half high, and thirty-one feet square, composed of huge square stones, and adorned with a handsome cornice all around at top. It contained only two rooms, one above the other; into both which there were entrances on the north side, through two square holes in the wall. The separation between both rooms, as also the covering at the top, was made, not of arched work, but of vast flat stones, in thickness four feet, and so great an extent, that two of them in each place, sufficed to spread over the whole fabric. This was a very ancient structure, and probably a place of sepulture.

I must not forget, that around about the Serpent Fountain, and also as far as this last tower, we saw many sepulchres, old foundations, and other remains of antiquity. From all which it may be assuredly concluded, that here must needs have been some famous habitation in ancient times; but whether this might be the Ximyra, laid down by Strabo hereabouts (or, as Pliny calls it, Simyra[531]), the same, possibly, with the country of the Zemarites, mentioned in conjunction with the Arvadites[532], I leave to others to discuss.

Having quitted ourselves of these antiquities, we entered into a spacious plain, extending to a vast breadth, between the sea and the mountains, and in length reaching almost as far as Tripoli. The people of the country call it Junia, that is, the Plain, which name they give it by way of eminency, upon account of its vast extent. We were full seven hours in passing it, and found it all along exceedingly fruitful, by reason of the many rivers and the great plenty of water which it enjoys. Of these rivers the first is about six hours before you come to Tripoli. It has a stone bridge over it of three large arches, and is the largest stream in the whole plain; for which reason it goes by the name of Nahr-el-Kibber, or the Great River. About half an hour farther you come to another river, called Nahr Abrosh, or the Leper's River. In three quarters of an hour more you pass a third river, called Nahr Acchar, having a handsome stone bridge, of one very large arch laid over it. Two good hours more bring you to a fourth river, called ... or the Cold Waters, with a bridge of three arches over it. From hence you have two good hours more to Tripoli. I took the more exact account of all these streams to the intent that I might give some light, for the better deciding that difference which is found in geographers about the place of the river Eleutherus. The moderns, all with one consent, give that name to a river between Tyre and Sidon, called by the Turks Casimeer. But this contradicts the universal testimony of the ancients, who place Eleutherus more northward. Strabo will have it somewhere between Orthosia and Tripoli, as a boundary dividing Syria from Phœnicia[533]. Pliny places it near Orthosia, emptying itself into the sea over against Aradus[534]. The writer of the Maccabees[535] lays it in the land of Hamath, which country, whatever it were, was certainly without the borders of Israel, as appears from the same author. To this Josephus agrees, placing Eleutherus to the north of Sidon, as may be collected from him[536], where, speaking of Mark Antony's donation to Cleopatra, he reports how that extravagant gallant gave her all the cities between Eleutherus and Egypt, except Tyre and Sidon. Ptolemy, as cited by Terranius, places it yet more northerly, between Orthosia and Balnea. From all which it is evident that this cannot be the true ancient Eleutherus, which the moderns assign for it. But that name is rather to be ascribed to one of these rivers crossing the plain of Junia; or else (if Pliny's authority may be relied upon) to that river (now dry) which I mentioned a little on this side of Tortosa, and which has its mouth almost opposite to Aradus. But I will not determine any thing on this point, contenting myself to have given an account of the several rivers as we passed them.

March 9.—Drawing towards Tripoli, our muleteers were afraid to advance, lest their beasts might be pressed for public service; as they were afterwards, in spite of all their caution, to our vexation. So we left them in the plain of Junia, and proceeded ourselves to Tripoli, where we arrived about sunset. Our whole stage this day was ten hours.

At Tripoli we reposed a full week, being very generously entertained by Mr. Francis Hastings, the consul, and Mr. John Fisher, merchant; theirs being the only English house in Tripoli.

Tripoli is seated about half an hour from the sea. The major part of the city lies between two hills; one on the east, on which is a castle commanding the place; another on the west, between the city and the sea. This latter is said to have been at first raised and to be still increased by the daily accession of sand, blown to it from the shore, upon which occasion there goes a prophecy that the whole city shall in time be buried with this sandy hill. But the Turks seem not very apprehensive of this prediction; for, instead of preventing the growth of the hill, they suffer it to take its course, and make it a place of pleasure, which they would have little inclination to do, did they apprehend it were some time to be their grave.

March 10.—This day we were all treated by Mr. Fisher in the Campagnia. The place where we dined was a narrow pleasant valley, by a river's side, distant from the city about a mile eastward. Across the valley there runs from hill to hill a handsome lofty aqueduct, carrying upon it so large a body of water as suffices the whole city. It was called the Prince's Bridge, supposed to have been built by Godfrey of Bouilloin.

March 11.—This day we all dined at consul Hastings's house, and after dinner went to wait upon Ustan, the pasha of Tripoli, having first sent our present, as the manner is amongst the Turks, to procure a propitious reception.

It is counted uncivil to visit in this country without an offering in hand. All great men expect it as a kind of tribute due to their character and authority, and look upon themselves as affronted, and, indeed, defrauded, when this compliment is omitted. Even in familiar visits amongst inferior people, you shall seldom have them come without bringing a flower, or an orange, or some other such token of their respect to the person visited; the Turks in this point keeping up the ancient oriental custom hinted in 1 Sam. ix. 7. "If we go," says Saul, "what shall we bring the man of God? there is not a present," &c., which words are questionless to be understood in conformity to this eastern custom, as relating to a token of respect, and not a price of divination.

March 12.—In the afternoon we went to visit Bell-Mount, a convent of Greeks, about two hours to the southward of Tripoli. It was founded by one of the earls of Tripoli, and stands upon a very high rocky mountain, looking over the sea; a place of very difficult ascent, though made as accessible as it was capable by the labour of the poor monks. It was our fortune to arrive there just as they were going to their evening service. Their chapel is large, but obscure, and the altar is inclosed with cancelli, so as not to be approached by any one but the priest, according to the fashion of the Greek churches. They call their congregation together by beating a kind of tune with two mallets on a long pendulous piece of plank at the church door, bells being an abomination to the Turks.

Their service consisted in precipitate and very irreverent chattering of certain prayers and hymns to our blessed Saviour, and to the blessed Virgin, and in some dark ceremonies; the priest that officiated spent at least one-third part of his time in compassing the altar, and perfuming it with a pot of incense, and then going all round the congregation, flinging his incense-pot backwards and forwards, and tendering its smoke with three repeated vibrations to every person present. Towards the end of the service there was brought into the body of the church a small table covered with a fair linen cloth, on which were placed five small cakes of bread cross way, in this form ⁙, and in the centre of each cake was fixed a small lighted wax taper, a hole in the cake serving for a socket.

At this ceremony the priest read the gospel concerning our Lord's feeding the multitude with five loaves. After which the bread was carried into the cancelli, and, being there suddenly broke into bits, was again brought out in a basket, and presented to every one in the assembly, that he might take a little. After this collation the priest pronounced the blessing, and so the service ended. On both sides of the body of the church were seats for the monks, in the nature of the stalls for the fellows of colleges in Oxford; and on each hand of every seat were placed crutches. These you find in like manner in most churches of this country. Their use is for the priest to lean upon, the service being sometimes so long, that they cannot well stay it out without the assistance of such easements, for they are not permitted by their rubric to sit down. The younger monks, who perhaps may have no great occasion for these supporters, do yet delight to use them (as the Spaniards do spectacles), not for any necessity, but in affectation of gravity.

The monks of this convent were, as I remember, forty in all. We found them seemingly a very good-natured, and industrious, but certainly a very ignorant people. For I found upon inquiry they could not give any manner of rationale of their own divine service. And, to show their extreme simplicity, I cannot omit a compliment made to the consul, by the chief of them, viz., that he was as glad to see him as if he had beheld the Messiah himself coming in person to make a visit to him.

Nor is this ignorance to be much wondered at; for what intervals of time they have between their hours of devotion they are forced to spend, not in study, but in managing of their flocks, cultivating their land, pruning their vineyards, and other labours of husbandry, which they accomplish with their own hands. This toil they are obliged to undergo, not only to provide for their own sustenance, but also that they may be able to satisfy the unreasonable exactions which the greedy Turks, upon every pretence they can invent, are ready to impose upon them. But, that it may be the better guessed what sort of men these Greek monks are, I will add this further indication, viz., that the same person whom we saw officiating at the altar in his embroidered sacerdotal robe brought us the next day, on his own back, a kid, and a goat's skin of wine, as a present from the convent.

March 13.—This morning we went again to wait upon Ustan pasha, by his own appointment, and were entertained as before with great courtesy. For you must know that the Turks are not so ignorant of civility and the arts of endearment, but that they can practise them with as much exactness as any other nation, whenever they have a mind to show themselves obliging. For the better apprehending of which, it may not be improper nor unpleasant here to describe the ceremonies of a Turkish visit, as far as they have ever fallen under my observation, either upon this or any other occasion.

When you would make a visit to a person of quality here, you must send one before with a present to bespeak your admission, and to know at what hour your coming may be most seasonable. Being come to the house, the servants receive you at the outermost gate, and conduct you towards their lord or master's apartment; other servants (I suppose of better rank) meeting you in the way, at their several stations, as you draw nearer to the person you visit. Coming into his room, you find him prepared to receive you, either standing at the edge of the divan, or else lying down at one corner of it, according as he thinks it proper to maintain a greater or less distinction. These divans are a sort of low stages, seated in the pleasantest part of the room, elevated about sixteen or eighteen inches or more above the floor. They are spread with carpets, and furnished all round with bolsters for leaning upon. Upon these the Turks eat, sleep, smoke, receive visits, say their prayers, &c. Their whole delight is in lolling upon them; and in furnishing them richly out is their greatest luxury.

Being come to the side of the divan, you slip off your shoes, and stepping up take your place; which you must do first at some distance, and upon your knees, laying your hand very formally before you. Thus you most remain till the man of quality invites you to draw nearer, and to put yourself in an easier posture, leaning upon the bolster. Being thus fixed, he discourses with you as the occasion offers, the servants standing round all the while in a great number, and with the profoundest respect, silence, and order imaginable. When you have talked over your business, or the compliments, or whatever other concern brought you thither, he makes a sign to have things served in for the entertainment, which is generally a little sweetmeat, a dish of sherbet, and another of coffee; all which are immediately brought in by the servants, and tendered to all the guests in order, with the greatest care and awfulness imaginable. And they have reason to look well to it; for should any servant make but the least slip or mistake, either in delivering or receiving his dish, it might cost him fifty, perhaps one hundred drubs on his bare feet, to atone for his crime. At last comes the finishing part of your entertainment, which is perfuming the beards of the company, a ceremony which is performed in this manner. They have for this purpose a small silver chafing-dish, covered with a lid full of holes, and fixed upon a handsome plate. In this they put some fresh coals, and upon them a piece of lignum aloes, and then, shutting it up, the smoke immediately ascends with a grateful odour through the holes of the cover. This smoke is held under every one's chin, and offered as it were a sacrifice to his beard. The bristly idol soon perceives the reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in and incorporates the gummy steam, that it retains the savour of it, and may serve for a nosegay a good while after.

This ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing, but it passes among the Turks for a high gratification. And I will say this in its vindication, that its design is very wise and useful. For it is understood to give a civil dismission to the visitants, intimating to them that the master of the house has business to do, or some other avocation, that permits them to go away as soon as they please, and the sooner after this ceremony the better. By this means you may at any time, without offence, deliver yourself from being detained from your affairs by tedious and unseasonable visits, and from being constrained to use that piece of hypocrisy so common in the world, of pressing those to stay longer with you whom perhaps in your heart you wish a great way off for having troubled you so long already. But of this enough.

Having discharged our visit to Ustan pasha, we rode out after dinner to view the marine. It is about half an hour distant from the city. The port is an open sea rather than an inclosed harbour. However it is in part defended from the force of the waves by two small islands about two leagues out from the shore, one of which is called the Bird, the other the Coney Island, being so named from the creatures which they severally produce. For its security from pirates it has several castles, or rather square towers, built all along upon the shore at convenient distances. They are, I think, six in number; but at present void of all manner of force both of men and ammunition.

In the fields near the shore appeared many heaps of ruins and pillars of granite, and several other indications that there must have been anciently some considerable buildings this way, which agrees very well with what Casaubon, in his notes upon Strabo[537], quotes out of Diodorus, viz., that the place called Tripoli was anciently a cluster of three cities, standing at a furlong's distance from each other, of which the first was a seat of the Radii, the second of the Sidonians, the third of the Tyrians; and from hence it is probable that Tripoli was a name given at first to three distinct but adjacent places, and not to one city, built, as is usually said, by the mingled interest of Tyre, Sidon, and Aradus; it being hard to conceive how three such independent commonwealths should thus concur in the founding of one city between them; and harder, how they should agree in governing it afterwards.

Sunday, March 14.—We continued still in Tripoli.

March 15.—Resolving to prosecute our journey this day, we had given orders to our muleteers, some time before, to be ready to attend us; but they had been so frightened by the pasha of Sidon's servants, who were abroad in quest of mules for the service of their master, that they were run away, and could not be heard of; a disappointment which gave us much vexation, and left us to no other remedy but only to supply ourselves with fresh beasts where we could find them.

Having, after much trouble, put ourselves in a new posture of travelling, we parted from Tripoli at three o'clock in the afternoon. Proceeding close by the sea, we came, in one hour and a half, to Callemone, a small village just under Bell-Mount. From hence, putting forward till near eight o'clock, we came to a high promontory, which lay directly across our way, and broke off abruptly at the sea-side, with a cape very high and almost perpendicular. In order to pass this barrier we turned up on the left hand into a narrow valley, through which our road lay; and, it being now late, we took up our quarters there under some olive-trees, having come, in all, about five hours.

The promontory which terminated our journey seems to be that called by Strabo[538] τὸ τοῦ Θεοῦ πρόσωπον, or the face of God, assigned by that author for the end of Mount Libanus. Between this place and Tripoli he mentions, likewise, a city called Trieris; but of this we saw no footsteps, unless you will allow for such some sepulchres which we saw cut in the rocks about one hour and a half before we arrived at the promontory.

March 16.—We were no sooner in motion this morning, but we were engaged in the difficult work of crossing over the forementioned cape. The pass over it lies about a mile up from the sea. We found it very deep and rugged; but in an hour or thereabout mastered it, and arrived in a narrow valley on the other side, which brought the sea open to us again. Near the entrance of this valley stands a small fort, erected upon a rock perpendicular on all sides, the walls of the building being just adequate to the sides of the rock, and seeming almost of one continued piece with them. This castle is called Temseida, and commands the passage into the valley.

In about half an hour from this place we came even with Patrone, a place esteemed to be the ancient Botrus. It is situated close by the sea; and, our road lying somewhat higher up in the land, we diverted a little out of the way to see it. We found in it some remains of an old church and a monastery; but these are now perfectly ruined and desolate, as is likewise the whole city; nor is there any thing left in it to testify it has been a place of any great consideration.

In three hours more we came to Gibyle, called by the Greeks Byblus, a place once famous for the birth and temple of Adonis. It is pleasantly situated by the sea-side. At present it contains but a little extent of ground, but yet more than enough for the small number of its inhabitants. It is compassed with a dry ditch and a wall, with square towers in it at about every forty yards' distance. On its south side it has an old castle. Within it is a church exactly of the same figure with that at Tortosa, only not so entire as that. Besides this it has nothing remarkable, though anciently it was a place of no mean extent as well as beauty, as may appear from the many heaps of ruins, and the fine pillars that are scattered up and down in the gardens near the town.

Gibyle is probably the country of the Giblites, mentioned Josh. xiii. 5. King Hiram made use of the people of this place in preparing materials for Solomon's temple, as may be collected from the first of Kings, v. 18, where the word which our translator has rendered stone-squarers, in the Hebrew is גבלים, Giblim, or Giblites, and in the LXXII Interpreters, Βύβλιοι, that is, the Men of Byblus; the former using the Hebrew, the latter the Greek name of this place. The same difference may be observed likewise in Ezekiel, xxvii. 9, where this place is again mentioned; the ancients of Gebal, says our translation, following the Hebrew; instead of which you read in the LXXII. again οἱ πρεσβύτεροι Βυβλίων, the elders of Bybli or Byblus.

Leaving Gibyle, we came in one hour to a fair, large river, with a stone bridge over it, of only one arch, but that exceeding wide and lofty. To this river the Turks give the name of Ibrahim Pasha; but it is doubtless the ancient river Adonis, so famous for the idolatrous rites performed here in lamentation of Adonis. Upon the bank of this stream we took up our quarters for the following night, having come this day about six hours. We had a very tempestuous night both of wind and rain, almost without cessation, and with so great violence that our servants were hardly able to keep up our tents over us. But, however, this accident, which gave us so much trouble in the night, made us amends with a curiosity which it yielded us an opportunity of beholding the next morning.

March 17.—For by this means we had the fortune to see what may be supposed to be the occasion of that opinion which Lucian relates concerning the river, viz., that this stream, at certain seasons of the year, especially about the feast of Adonis, is of a bloody colour, which the heathens looked upon as proceeding from a kind of sympathy in the river for the death of Adonis, who was killed by a wild boar in the mountains out of which this stream rises. Something like this we saw actually come to pass; for the water was stained to a surprising redness, and, as we observed in travelling, had discoloured the sea, a great way, into a reddish hue, occasioned, doubtless, by a sort of minium, or red earth, washed into the river by the violence of the rain, and not by any stain from Adonis's blood.

In an hour and a quarter from this river we passed over the foot of the mountain Climax, where, having gone through a very rugged and uneven pass, we came into a large bay called Junia. At the first entrance into the bay is an old stone bridge, which appoints the limits between the two pashalicks of Tripoli and Sidon. At the bottom of the bay are exceeding high and steep mountains, between which and the sea the road lies. These are the mountains of Castravan, chiefly inhabited by Maronites, famous for a growth of excellent wine. The Maronite bishop of Aleppo has here his residence in a convent, of which he is the guardian. We saw many other small convents on the top of these mountains, one of which, called Oozier, was, as we were here told, in the hands of ten or twelve Latin friars. Towards the further side of the bay we came to a square tower, or castle, of which kind there are many all along upon the coast for several days' journey from this place. They are said to have been built by the empress Helena, for the protection of the country from pirates. At this tower is to be paid a fourth[539] caphar. It is received by Maronites, a pack of rogues more exacting and insolent in their office than the very Turks themselves. A little beyond this place we came to a road cut through the rocks, which brought us out of the bay, having been one hour and a quarter in compassing it. In an hour more, spent upon a very rugged way, close by the sea, we came to the river Lycus, called also, sometimes, Canis, and by the Turks, at this day, Nahr Kelp. It derives its name from an idol in the form of a dog or wolf, which was worshipped, and is said to have pronounced oracles, at this place. The image is pretended to be shown to strangers at this day, lying in the sea with its heels upward. I mean the body of it; for its oracular head is reported to have been broken off and carried to Venice, where (if fame be true) it may be seen at this day.

I know not by what mistake several modern geographers confound this river with Adonis, making them to be one and the same, whereas the contrary is apparent, both from experimental observation and from the authority of ancient geographers.

This river issues into the sea from between two mountains excessively steep and high, and so rocky that they seem to consist each of one entire stone. For crossing the river you go up between these mountains about a bow-shot from the sea, where you have a good bridge of four arches, near the foot of which is a piece of white marble inlaid in the side of a rock, with an Arab inscription on it, intimating its founder to have been the emir Faccardine (of whom I shall have occasion to speak more when I come to Beirout). Being passed the river, you immediately begin to ascend the mountain, or rather great rock, on the other side. To accommodate the passage you have a path of above two yards' breadth cut along its side, at a great height above the water, being the work of the emperor Antoninus; for the promontory allowing no passage between it and the sea, at bottom, that emperor undertook, with incredible labour, to open this way above, the memory of which good work is perpetuated by an inscription engraved on a table planed in the side of the natural rock, not far from the entrance into the way, as follows:—

IMP: CAES: M: AURELIUS ANTONINUS, PIUS, FELIX, AUGUSTUS PARTH: MAX: BRIT: GERM: MAXIMUS PONTIFEX MAXIMUS MONTIBUS IMMINENTIBUS LYCO FLUMINI CAESIS VIAM DILATAVIT PER—(purposely erased)— ANTONINIANAM SUAM

A little higher up in the way are inscribed these words:—

INVICTE IMP: ANTONINE P: FELIX AUG: MULTIS ANNIS IMPERA!

In passing this way, we observed, in the sides of the rock above us, several tables of figures carved, which seemed to promise something of antiquity. To be satisfied of which, some of us clambered up to the place, and found there some signs as if the old way had gone in that region, before Antoninus cut the other more convenient passage a little lower. In several places thereabouts we saw strange antique figures of men carved in the natural rock, in mezzo relievo, and in bigness equal to the life. Close by each figure was a large table planed in the side of the rock, and bordered round with mouldings. Both the effigies and the tables appeared to have been anciently inscribed all over, but the characters are now so defaced, that nothing but the footsteps of them were visible. There was only one of the figures that had both its lineaments and its inscriptions entire.

It was our unhappiness to have at this place a very violent storm of thunder and rain, which made our company too much in haste to make any longer stay here. By which misfortune I was prevented, to my great regret, from copying the inscription, and making such an exact scrutiny into this antiquity as it seemed very well to deserve. I hope some curious traveller or other will have better success in passing this way hereafter. The figures seemed to resemble mummies, and were perhaps the representation of some persons buried hereabout, whose sepulchres might probably also be discovered by the diligent observer.

The Antonine way extends about a quarter of an hour's travel. It is at present so broken and uneven, that to repair it would require no less labour than that wherewith it was at first made. After this pass you come upon a smooth sandy shore, which brings you in about one hour and a half to the river Beirout (for I could learn no other name it had). It is a large river, and has over it a stone bridge of six arches. On its other side is a plain field near the sea, which is said to be the stage on which St. George duelled and killed the dragon. In memory of this achievement there is a small chapel built upon the place, dedicated at first to that Christian hero, but now perverted to a mosque. From thence, in an hour, we arrived at Beirout, very wet by reason of the long and severe rain. However, we found here the shelter of a good khan by the sea-side, and there we took up our quarters. Our whole stage, this day, was about six hours and a half.

March 18.—The day following we spent at Beirout, being credibly informed that the river Damer, which lay in our next stage, was so swollen by the late rains that it would be impassable. This place was anciently called Berytus, from which the idol Baal-Berith is supposed to have had its name; and afterwards, being greatly esteemed by Augustus, had many privileges conferred upon it, and together with them a new name, viz. Julia Felix. But at present it retains nothing of its ancient felicity, except the situation, and in that particular it is indeed very happy. It is seated on the sea-side, in a soil fertile and delightful, raised only so high above the salt water as to be secure from its overflowings, and all other noxious and unwholesome effects of that element. It has the benefit of good fresh springs flowing down to it from the adjacent hills, and dispensed all over the city, in convenient and not unhandsome fountains. But, besides these advantages of its situation, it has at present nothing else to boast of.

The emir Faccardine had his chief residence in this place. He was in the reign of sultan Morat, the fourth emir, or prince of the Druses, a people supposed to have descended from some dispersed remainder of those Christian armies that engaged in the crusades for the recovery of the Holy Land[540], who afterwards being totally routed, and despairing of a return to their native country again, betook themselves to the mountains hereabout, in which their descendants have continued ever since. Faccardine, being (as I said) prince of these people, was not contented to be penned up in the mountains, but by his power and artifice enlarged his dominions down into the sea-coast, as far from this place to Acre. At last the Grand Seignior, growing jealous of such a growing power, drove the wild beast back again to the mountains from whence he had broke loose; and there his posterity retain their principality to this day.

We went to view the palace of this prince, which stands on the north-east part of the city. At the entrance of it is a marble fountain, of greater beauty than is usually seen in Turkey. The palace within consists of several courts, all now run much to ruin, or rather perhaps never finished. The stables, yards for horses, dens for lions and other savage creatures, gardens, &c., are such as would not be unworthy of the quality of a prince in Christendom, were they wrought up to that perfection of which they are capable, and to which they seem to have been designed by their first contriver.

But the best sight that this palace affords, and the most worthy to be remembered, is the orange garden. It contains a large quadrangular plot of ground, divided into sixteen lesser squares, four in a row, with walks between them. The walks are shaded with orange-trees, of a large spreading size, and all of so fine a growth both for stem and head, that one cannot imagine any thing more perfect of this kind. They were, at the time when we were there, as it were gilded with fruit, hanging thicker upon them than ever I saw apples in England. Every one of these sixteen lesser squares in the garden was bordered with stone, and in the stonework were troughs very artificially contrived, for conveying the water all over the garden, there being little outlets cut at every tree, for the stream, as it passed by, to flow out and water it. Were this place under the cultivation of an English gardener, it is impossible any thing could be made more delightful. But these Hesperides were put to no better use, when we saw them, than to serve as a fold for sheep and goats, insomuch that in many places they were up to the knees in dirt. So little sense have the Turks of such refined delights as these, being a people generally of the grossest apprehension, and knowing few other pleasures but such sensualities as are equally common both to man and beast. On the east side of this garden were two terrace-walks, rising one above the other, each of them having an ascent to it of twelve steps. They had both several fine spreading orange-trees upon them, to make shades in proper places. And at the north end they led into booths, and summer-houses, and other apartments, very delightful; this place being designed by Faccardine for the chief seat of his pleasure.

It may perhaps be wondered how this emir should be able to contrive any thing so elegant and regular as this garden, seeing the Turkish gardens are usually nothing else but a confused miscellany of trees jumbled together, without either knots, walks, arbours, or any thing of art or design, so that they seem like thickets rather than gardens. But Faccardine had been in Italy, where he had seen things of another nature, and knew well how to copy them in his own country; for indeed it appears, by these remains of him, that he must needs have been a man much above the ordinary level of a Turkish genius.

In another garden we saw several pedestals for statues, from whence it may be inferred that this emir was no very zealous Mohammedan. At one corner of the same garden stood a tower of about sixty feet high, designed to have been carried to a much greater elevation for a watch-tower, and for that end built with an extraordinary strength, its walls being twelve feet thick. From this tower we had a view of the whole city. Amongst other prospects, it yielded us the sight of a large Christian church, said to have been at first consecrated to St. John the Evangelist; but, it being now usurped by the Turks for their chief mosque, we could not be permitted to see it, otherwise than at this distance. Another church there is in the town, which seems to be ancient; but, being a very mean fabric, it is suffered to remain still in the hands of the Greeks. We found it adorned with abundance of old pictures. Amongst the rest I saw one with this little inscription, Κούαρτος πρῶτος Αρχιεπίσκοπος Βηρούτου; and just by it was the figure of Nestorius, who commonly makes one amongst the saints painted in the Greek churches, though they do not now profess, nor, I believe, so much as know his heresy. But that which appeared most observable was a very odd figure of a saint, drawn at full length, with a large beard reaching down to his feet. The curate gave us to understand that this was St. Nicephorus; and, perceiving that his beard was the chief object of our admiration, he gratified us with the following relation concerning him; viz., That he was a person of the most eminent virtue in his time; but his great misfortune was, that the endowments of his mind were not set off with the outward ornament of a beard. Upon occasion of which defect he fell into a deep melancholy. The devil, taking advantage of this priest, promised to give him that boon which nature had denied, in case he would comply with his suggestion. The beardless saint, though he was very desirous of the reward proposed, yet he would not purchase it at that rate neither, but rejected the previous bribe with indignation, declaring resolutely that he had rather for ever despair of his wish than obtain it upon such terms; and, at the same time, taking in hand the downy tuft upon his chin, to witness the stability of his resolution (for he had, it seems, beard enough to swear by), behold! as a reward for his constancy, he found the hair immediately stretch with the pluck that he gave it. Whereupon, finding it in so good a humour, he followed the happy omen; and, as young heirs that have been niggardly bred, generally turn prodigals when they come to their estates, so he never desisted from pulling his beard till he had drawn it down to his feet. But enough both of the beard and the story. At the east end of Beirout are to be seen seven or eight beautiful pillars of granite, each ... feet long, and three in diameter. And over another gate, not far distant, we found on a piece of marble the following inscription: Τῆς τοῦ προσίοντος ἀνδρὸς ἐννοίας αἰεὶ σαφὴς ἔληγχος, ἡ πρόσοψις γείνεται δίδου προθυμῶς ὅ παρέχεις ἤ μὴ δίδου παρὰ γὰρ τὸ μειχρὸν γείνεται πτήρης χάρις. It was probably at first an altar inscription, relating to the offertory in the holy communion, for its sense seems to look that way, and it is well known that the comers to the blessed sacrament were called by the ancients by the peculiar name of οἳ προσίοντες, as Valesius proves out of St. Chrysostom[541].

On the south side the town wall is still entire, but built out of the ruins of the old city, as appears by pieces of pillars and marble which help to build it. On one piece of marble table we saw these remaining letters of a Latin inscription:—

.... VG. ETIA .... .... XI CUM .... .... VS PHOEBUS .... All the rest being purposely erased.

A little without this wall we saw many granite pillars and remnants of Mosaic floors, and in a heap of rubbish several pieces of polished marble, fragments of statues, and other poor relics of this city's ancient magnificence. On the sea-shore is an old ruined castle, and some remains of a small mole.

March 19.—Leaving Beirout, we came in one-third of an hour to a large plain extending from the sea to the mountains. At the beginning of the plain is a grove of pine-trees of Faccardine's plantation. We guessed it to be more than half a mile across; and so pleasant and inviting was its shade, that it was not without some regret that we passed it by. Continuing in this plain, we saw at a distance, on our left hand, a small village called Suckfoat. It belongs to the Druses, who possess at this day a long tract of mountains, as far as from Castravan to Carmel. Their present prince is Achmet, grandson to Faccardine, an old man, and one who keeps up the custom of his ancestors of turning day into night, an hereditary practice in his family, proceeding from a traditional persuasion amongst them, that princes can never sleep securely but by day, when men's actions and designs are best observed by their guards, and, if need be, most easily prevented; but that in the night it concerns them to be always vigilant, lest the darkness, aided by their sleeping, should give traitors both opportunity and encouragement to assault their persons, and by a dagger or a pistol to make them continue their sleep longer than they intended when they lay down.

Two hours from Faccardine's grove brought us to the fifth caphar, and another little hour to the river Damer or Tamyras, the former being its modern, the latter its ancient name. It is a river apt to swell much upon sudden rains; in which case, precipitating itself from the mountains with great rapidity, it has been fatal to many passengers. Amongst the rest, one Monsieur Spon, nephew to Dr. Spon, coming from Jerusalem about four years ago, in company with some English gentlemen, in passing this stream, was hurried down by it, and perished in the sea, which lies about a furlong lower than the passage.

We had the good fortune to find the river in a better temper, its waters being now assuaged since the late rains. However, the country fellows were ready here, according to their trade, to have assisted us in our passage over; in order to which, they had very officiously stripped themselves naked against our coming; and to the end that they might oblige us to make use of their help, for which they would be well paid, they brought us to a place where the water was deepest, pretending there was no other passage besides that, which cheat we saw them actually impose upon some other travellers, who came not long after us. But we had been advised of a place a little higher in the river, where the stream was broader and shallower, and there we easily passed without their assistance. Just by this place are the ruins of a stone bridge, of which one might guess by the firmness of its remains that it might have been still entire, had not these villains broke it down, in order to their making their advantages of passengers, either conducting them over for good pay, or else, if they have opportunity, drowning them for their spoils.

On the other side of the river, the mountains approach closer to the sea, leaving only a narrow rocky way between. From Damer, in two hours, we came to another river of no inconsiderable figure, but not once mentioned by any geographer that I know of. It is within one hour of Sidon. Its channel is deep, contains a good stream, and has a large stone bridge over it. Speaking of this river to the reverend father Stephano, Maronite patriarch at Canobine, he told me it was called Awle, and had its fountain near Berook, a village in Mount Libanus.

At this river we were met by several of the French merchants from Sidon, they having a factory there the most considerable of all theirs in the Levant. Being arrived at Sidon, we pitched our tents by a cistern without the city, but were ourselves conducted by the French gentlemen to the place of their habitation, which is a large khan close by the sea, where the consul and all the nation are quartered together. Before the front of this khan is an old mole running into the sea with a right angle; it was of no capacity at best, but now is rendered perfectly useless, having been purposely filled up with rubbish and earth by Faccardine, to prevent the Turkish galleys from making their unwelcome visits to this place. The mole being thus destroyed, all ships that take in their burden here are forced to ride at anchor under the shelter of a small ridge of rocks about a mile distant from the shore, on the north side of the city. Sidon is stocked well enough with inhabitants, but is very much shrunk from its ancient extent, and more from its splendour, as appears from a great many beautiful pillars that lie scattered up and down the gardens without the present walls. Whatever antiquities may at any time have been hereabout, they are now all perfectly obscured and buried by the Turkish buildings. Upon the south side of the city, on a hill, stands an old castle, said to have been the work of Louis IX. of France, surnamed the saint; and not far from the castle is an old unfinished palace of Faccardine's, serving, however, the pasha for his seraglio, neither of them worth mentioning, had the city afforded us any thing else more remarkable. Near about Sidon begin the precincts of the Holy Land, and of that part of it in particular which was allotted to Asher; the borders of which tribe extended from Carmel as far as Great Zidon, as appears from Josh. xix. 26, 28. But the people upon the sea-coast were never actually mastered by the Israelites, being left by the just judgment of God to be thorns in their sides, for a reason that may be seen in Judges, ii. 1-3, &c.