HENRY MAUNDRELL.
Ofthe birth, education, and early life of this traveller little or nothing appears to be known with certainty. His friends, who were of genteel rank, since he calls Sir Charles Hodges, judge of the High Court of Admiralty, his uncle, seem to have resided in the neighbourhood of Richmond. Having completed his studies, and taken the degree of master of arts at Oxford, he was appointed chaplain to the English factory at Aleppo, and departed from England in the year 1695. Part of this journey was performed by land; but whether it passed off smoothly, or was diversified by incidents and adventures, we are left to conjecture, our traveller not having thought his movements of sufficient importance to be known to posterity. It is simply recorded that he passed through Germany, and made some short stay at Frankfort, where he conversed with the celebrated Job Ludolphus, who, learning his design of residing in Syria, and visiting the Holy Land, communicated to him several questions, the clearing up of which upon the spot might, it was hoped, tend to illustrate various passages in the Old and New Testaments.
Shortly after his arrival at Aleppo, he undertook, in company with a considerable number of his flock, that journey to Jerusalem which, short and unimportant as it was, has added his name to the list of celebrated travellers; so pleasantly, ingenuously, and delightfully is it described. The history of the short period of his life consumed in this excursion is all that remains to us; and this is just sufficient to excite our regret that we can know no more; for,from the moment of his introduction into our company until he quits us to carry on his pious and noiseless labours at Aleppo, diversified only by friendly dinners and rural promenades or hunting, we view his character with unmingled satisfaction. He was a learned, cheerful, able, conscientious man, who viewed with a pleasure which he has not sought either to exaggerate or disguise the spots rendered venerable by the footsteps or sufferings of Christ, and of the prophets, martyrs, and apostles.
Maundrell and his companions departed from Aleppo on the 26th of February, 1696, and crossing the plains of Kefteen, which are fruitful, well cultivated, and of immense extent, arriving in two days at Shogr, a large but dirty town on the banks of the Orontes, where there was a splendid khan erected by the celebrated Grand Vizier Kuperli, on the next day they entered the pashalic of Tripoli; travelling through a woody, mountainous country, beneath the shade of overarching trees, amused by the roar of torrents, or by the sight of valleys whose green turf was sprinkled with myrtles, oleanders, tulips, anemonies, and various other aromatic plants and flowers. In traversing a low valley they passed over a stream rolling through a narrow rocky channel ninety feet deep, which was called the Sheïkh’s Wife, an Arab princess having formerly perished in this dismal chasm.
CrossingGebel Occaby, or the “Mountain of Difficulty,” which, according to our traveller, fully deserves its name, they arrived towards evening at Belulca, a village famous for its wretchedness, and for the extremely humble condition to which Christianity is there reduced,—Christ being, to use his own expressive words, once more laid in a manger in that place. The poorness of their entertainment urged them to quit Belulca as quickly as possible, though the weather, which during the preceding day had been extremely bad, was still far from being settled;and they had not proceeded far before they began to regret this miserable resting-place, the rains bursting out again with redoubled violence, breaking up the roads, and swelling the mountain torrents to overflowing. At length, however, they arrived opposite a small village, to reach which they had only to cross a little rivulet, dry in summer, but now increased by the rains to a considerable volume, and found upon trial to be impassable. In this dilemma, they had merely the choice of returning to the miserable, inhospitable den where they had passed the preceding night, or of pitching their tent where they were, and awaiting the falling of the stream. The latter appeared the preferable course, though the weather seemed to menace a second deluge, the most terrible thunder and lightning now mingling with and increasing the horrors of the storm; while their servants and horses, whom their single tent was too small to shelter, stood dripping, exposed to all the fury of the heavens. At length a small sheïkh’s house, or burying-place, was discovered in the distance, where they hoped to be allowed to take shelter along with the saints’ bones; but the difficulty was how to gain admittance, it being probable that the people of the village would regard the approach of so many infidels to the tomb of their holy men as a profanation not to be endured. To negotiate this matter, a Turk, whom they had brought along with them for such occasions, was despatched towards the villagers, to obtain permission peaceably, if possible; if not, to inform them that they would enter the edifice by force. It is possible that the Ottoman exceeded his instructions in his menaces; for the indignation of the villagers was roused, and declaring that it was their creed to detest and renounce Omar and Abubeer, while they honoured Ahmed and Ali, they informed the janizary that they would die upon the infidels’ swords rather than submit to have their faith defiled. The travellers ontheir part assured them that the opinion they entertained of Omar and Abubeer was in no respect better than their own; that they had no intention whatever to defile their holy places; and that their only object at present was to obtain somewhere or another a shelter from the inclemency of the weather. This apparent participation in their sectarian feelings somewhat mollified their disposition, and they at length consented to unlock the doors of the tomb, and allow the infidels to deposite their baggage in it; but with respect to themselves, it was decreed by the remorseless villagers that they were to pass the nightsub Jove. When our travellers saw the door opened, however, they began secretly to laugh at the beards of the honest zealots, being resolved, as soon as sleep should have wrapped itself round these poor people like a cloak, as Sancho words it, to steal quietly into the tomb, and dream for once upon a holy grave. They did so; but either the anger of the sheïkh or their wet garments caused them to pass but a melancholy night.
Next morning, the waters of the river, which rose and fell with equal rapidity, having sunk to their ordinary level, they issued forth from their sacred apartments, and proceeding westward for some time, they at length ascended a lofty eminence, from whence, across a wide and fertile plain, they discovered the city of Latichen, founded by Seleucus Nicator on the margin of the sea. Leaving this city and the Mediterranean on the right-hand, and a high ridge of mountains on the left, they proceeded through the plain towards Gibili, the ancient Gabala, where they arrived in the evening, and remained one day to recruit themselves. In the hills near this city were found the extraordinary sect of the Nessariah, which still subsists, and are supposed to be a remnant of the ancient pagan population, worshippers of Venus-Mylitta and the sun.
Proceeding southward along the seacoast theycrossed the Nahrel-Melek, or King’s River, passed through Baneas, the ancient Balanea, and arrived towards sunset at Tortosa, the Orthosia of antiquity, erected on the edge of a fertile plain so close to the sea that the spray still dashes among its crumbling monuments. Continuing their journey towards Tripoli, they beheld on their right, at about three miles’ distance from the shore, the little island of Ruad, the Arvad or Alphad of the Scriptures, and the Andus of the Greeks and Romans, a place which, though not above two or three furlongs in length, was once renowned for its distant naval expeditions and immense commerce, in which it maintained for a time a rivalry even with Tyre and Sidon themselves. Having travelled thus far by forced marches, as it were, they determined to remain a whole week at Tripoli, to repose their “wearied virtue,” and by eating good dinners and making merry with their friends, prepare themselves for the enduring of those “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” which all flesh, but especially travelling flesh, is heir to. But the more fortunate and happy the hero of the narrative happens to be, the more unfortunate and melancholy is his biographer, for happiness is extremely dull and insipid to every one except the individual who tastes it. For this reason we hurry as fast as possible over all the bright passages of a man’s life, but dwell with delight on his sufferings, his perils, his hair-breadth escapes, not, as some shallow reasoners would have it, because we rejoice at the misfortunes of another, but because our sympathies can be awakened by nothing but manifestations of intellectual energy and virtue, which shine forth most gloriously, not on the calm waves of enjoyment, but amid the storms and tempests of human affairs.
We therefore snatch our traveller from the rural parties and cool valleys of Tripoli, in order to expose him to toil and the spears of the Arabs. Theweek of pleasure being expired, the party set forward towards the south, and proceeding for five hours along the coast, arrived at a high rocky promontory, intersecting the road, and looking with a smooth, towering, and almost perpendicular face upon the sea. This appears to be the promontory called by Strabo, but wherefore is not known, τὸ του Θεου Προσώπον, or the Face of God. Near this strangely-named spot they encamped for the night under the shade of a cluster of olive-trees. Surmounting this steep and difficult barrier in the morning, they pursued their way along the shore until they arrived at Gabail, the ancient Byblus, a place once famous for the birth and worship of Adonis. In this place they made little or no stay, pushing hastily forward to the Nahr Ibrahim, the river Adonis of antiquity, the shadows of Grecian fable crowding thicker and thicker upon their minds as they advanced, and bringing along with them sweet schoolboy recollections, sunny dreams, which the colder phenomena of real life never wholly expel from ardent and imaginative minds. Here they pitched their tent, on the banks of the stream, and prepared to pass the night amid those fields where of old the virgins of the country assembled to unite with the goddess of beauty, in lamentations for Adonis,
Whose annual wound in Lebanon alluredThe Syrian damsels to lament his fateIn amorous ditties all a summer’s day,While smooth Adonis from his native rockRan purple to the sea, supposed with bloodOf Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-taleInfected Sion’s daughters with like heat,Whose wanton passions in the sacred porchEzekiel saw, when by the vision ledHis eye surveyed the dark idolatriesOf alienated Judah.
Whose annual wound in Lebanon alluredThe Syrian damsels to lament his fateIn amorous ditties all a summer’s day,While smooth Adonis from his native rockRan purple to the sea, supposed with bloodOf Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-taleInfected Sion’s daughters with like heat,Whose wanton passions in the sacred porchEzekiel saw, when by the vision ledHis eye surveyed the dark idolatriesOf alienated Judah.
Whose annual wound in Lebanon alluredThe Syrian damsels to lament his fateIn amorous ditties all a summer’s day,While smooth Adonis from his native rockRan purple to the sea, supposed with bloodOf Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-taleInfected Sion’s daughters with like heat,Whose wanton passions in the sacred porchEzekiel saw, when by the vision ledHis eye surveyed the dark idolatriesOf alienated Judah.
Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured
The Syrian damsels to lament his fate
In amorous ditties all a summer’s day,
While smooth Adonis from his native rock
Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale
Infected Sion’s daughters with like heat,
Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch
Ezekiel saw, when by the vision led
His eye surveyed the dark idolatries
Of alienated Judah.
The night was rainy and tempestuous, and when they looked out in the morning theNahr Ibrahimhad assumed that sanguine hue, which, according to Lucian, always distinguishes it at that season of theyear in which the festival of Adonis was celebrated. Nay, the stream not only “ran purple to the sea,” but had actually, as they observed in travelling along, communicated its bloody colour to the waves of the Mediterranean to a considerable distance from the land, just as the Nile discolours them at the time of the inundation along the whole coast of the Delta.
Their road now lay nearly at the foot of those steep and rugged mountains which have for many ages been inhabited by the Maronites, several of whose convents they discerned perched like eagles’ nests on the bare summit of the crags. A road cut for a considerable distance through the solid rock, and a track still more rude and wild, worn by the footsteps of travellers in the side of the mountain, at length brought them to the river Lycus, or Canis, theNahr-el-Kelb, or “Dog’s River,” of the Turks and Arabs. Proceeding along a low sandy shore, and crossing theNahr-el-Salib, they arrived at a small field near the sea, where St. George, the patron of England, acting over again the fable of Apollo and Python, fought with and killed that mighty dragon which still shows its shining scales on the golden coin of Great Britain. A small chapel, now converted into a mosque, was anciently erected on the spot in commemoration of the exploit. In the evening they arrived at Beiroot, where they remained the following day, examining the ruins and present aspect of the city.
The principal curiosities of Beiroot were the palace and gardens of Fakreddin, fourth prince of the Druzes, a people of Mount Lebanon, said to be descended from the fragments of those Christian armies which, after the final failure of the Crusades, were unable or unwilling to return to their own countries, and took up their residence in the mountain fastnesses of the Holy Land. Originally the gardens of Fakreddin must have been a little paradise. Even whenMaundrell was there, after time and neglect had considerably impaired their beauty, they were still worthy of admiration. Large and lofty orange-trees of the deepest verdure, among which the ripe yellow fruit hung thickly suspended like oblong spheres of gold, shaded the walks; while below small shining rivulets of the purest water ran rippling along, through channels of hewn stone, spreading coolness through the air, and distributing themselves over the gardens by many imperceptible outlets.
On leaving Beiroot they proceeded through a spacious plain, and traversing a large grove of pine-trees, planted by the Emīr Fakreddin, arrived in two hours on the banks of the river Dammar, anciently Tamyras, in which, about four years before, the younger Spon had been drowned in proceeding northward from Jerusalem. Coming up to the edge of the stream, they found a number of men, who, observing their approach, had stripped themselves naked, in order to aid them in passing the stream; but having previously learned that a bridge which once spanned this river had been purposely broken down by these officious guides, in order to render their services necessary, and that, moreover, they sometimes drowned travellers to obtain their property, they disappointed the ruffians, and ascending along the stream for some time, at length discovered a ford, and crossed without their aid.
At the Awle, a small river about three miles north of Sidon, our travellers were met by several French merchants from this city, who, having been informed of their drawing near, had come out to welcome them. From these friends they learned, however, that the French consul, who, being also consul of Jerusalem, was compelled by the duties of his office to visit the Holy City every Easter, had departed from Sidon the day before; but that as he meant to make some stay at Acra, they might hope to overtake him there. On this account they again set outearly next morning, and keeping close to the sea, passed by the site of the ancient Sarepta, crossed the Nahr-el-Kasmin, and in another hour arrived at Tyre, where, notwithstanding their anxiety to place themselves under the protection of the French consul, who was travelling with an escort, they were detained for a moment by the recollection of the ancient glory of the place.
Having indulged their curiosity for an instant, they again hurried forward, the phantom of the consul still flitting before them, like the enchanted bird in the Arabian Nights, and reached Ras-el-Am, or the “Promontory of the Fountains,” where those famous reservoirs called the “Cisterns of Solomon” are situated. Our traveller, who had little respect for traditions, conjectured that these works, however ancient they might be, could not with propriety be ascribed to the Hebrew king, since the aqueduct which they were intended to supply was built upon the narrow isthmus uniting the island to the continent, constructed by Alexander during the siege of the city; and we may be sure, he observes, that the aqueduct cannot very well be older than the ground it stands upon.
At Acra they found the consul, who had politely delayed his departure to the last moment in order to give them time to arrive; and next morning continued their journey in his company. Crossing the river Belus, on whose banks glass is said to have been first manufactured, and making across the plain towards the foot of Carmel, they entered the narrow valley through which the ancient Kishon, famous for the destruction of Sisera’s host, rolls its waters towards the sea. After threading for many hours the mazes of this narrow valley, they issued forth towards evening upon the plains of Esdraelon sprinkled with Arab flocks and tents, and in the distance beheld the famous mounts of Tabor and Hermon, and the sacred site of Nazareth. Here they learnedthe full force of the Psalmist’s poetical allusions to the “dews of Hermon,” for in the morning they found their tents as completely drenched by it as if it had rained all night.
Paying the customary tribute to the Arabs as they passed, they proceeded on their way, their eyes resting at every step on some celebrated spot: Samaria, Sichem, mounts Ebal and Gerizim, places rendered venerable by the wanderings of prophets and patriarchs, but hallowed in a more especial manner by the footsteps of Christ. They now began to enter upon a more rocky and mountainous country, and passing by the spot where Jacob saw angels ascending and descending, “in the vision of God,” and Beer, supposed to be the Michmas of the Scriptures, to which Jonathan fled from the revenge of his brother Abimelech, arrived at the summit of a hill, whence Rama, anciently Gibeah of Saul, the plain of Jericho, the mountains of Gilead, and Jerusalem itself were visible in one magnificent panorama.
Being in the Holy City, which no man, whether believer or unbeliever, can visit without the most profound emotion, Maundrell enjoyed unrestrainedly the romantic delight of living where Christ had lived and died, which to a high-minded religious man must be one of the noblest pleasures which travelling can afford. They resided, during their stay, at the Latin convent, visiting the various places which are supposed to possess any interest for pilgrims; such as the church of the Sepulchre, on Mount Calvary, the grotto of Jeremiah, the sepulchres of the kings, and the other famous places within the precincts or in the vicinity of the city.
Four days after their arrival they set out in company with about two thousand pilgrims of both sexes and of all nations, conducted by the mosselim, or governor of the city, to visit the river Jordan. Going out of the city by the gate of St. Stephen, they crossed the valley of Jehoshaphat, with part of MountOlivet, passed through Bethany, and arrived at that mountain wilderness to which Christ was taken forth to be tempted by the Devil. Here some terrible convulsion of nature appears to have shattered and rent in pieces the foundations of the everlasting hills, swallowing up the summits, and thrusting up in their stead the bases and substructions, as it were, of the mighty masses. In the depths of a valley which traversed this “land of desolation, waste and wild,” were discovered the ruins of numerous cottages and hermits’ cells, many ascetics having formerly retired to this dreary region to waste away their lives in solitary penance. From the top of this mountain, however, the travellers enjoyed a prospect of extraordinary diversity, comprehending the mountains of Arabia, the Dead Sea, and the Plain of Jericho, into the last of which they descended in about five hours from the time of their leaving Jerusalem.
In this plain they saw the fountain of Elisha, shaded by a broad-spreading tree. Jericho itself had dwindled into a small wretched village, inhabited by Arabs; and the plain beyond it, extending to the Jordan, appeared to be blasted by the breath of sterility, producing nothing but a species of samphire, and similar stunted marine plants. Here and there, where thin sheets of water, now evaporated by the rays of the sun, had formerly spread themselves over the marshy soil, a saline efflorescence, white and glittering like a crust of snow, met the eye; and the whole valley of the Jordan, all the way to the Dead Sea, appeared to be impregnated with that mineral. They found this celebrated river, which in old times overflowed its banks, to be a small stream not above twenty yards in breadth, which, to borrow the words of the traveller, seemed to have forgotten its former greatness, there being no sign or probability of its rising, though the time, the 30th of March, was the proper season of theinundation. On the contrary, its waters ran at least two yards below the brink of its channel.
Proceeding onwards towards the Dead Sea, they passed over an undulating plain, in some places rising into hillocks, resembling those places in England where there have formerly been limekilns, and which may possibly have been the scene of the overthrow of the kings of Sodom and Gomorrah recorded in Genesis. On approaching the Dead Sea, they observed that on the east and west it was hemmed in by mountains of vast height, between whose barren ridges it stretched away, like a prodigious canal, farther than the eye could reach towards the south. On the north its limpid and transparent waters rattled along a bed of black pebbles, which being held over the flame of a candle quickly kindle, and, without being consumed, emit a black smoke of intolerable stench. Immense quantities of similar stones are said to be found in the sulphureous hills bordering upon the lake. None of the bitumen which the waves of this sea occasionally disgorge was then to be found, although it was reported that both on the eastern and western shores it might be gathered in great abundance at the foot of the mountains. The structures of fable with which tradition and “superstitious idle-headed Eld” had surrounded this famous sea vanished, like the false waters of the desert, upon examination. No malignant vapours ascended from the surface of the waves, carrying death to the birds which might attempt to fly over it. On the contrary, several birds amused themselves in hovering about and over the sea, and the shells of fish were found among the pebbles on the shore. Those apples of Sodom which, “atra et inania velut in cinerem vanescunt,” according to the expression of Tacitus, for a thousand years have furnished poets with comparisons and similes, were found, like many other beautiful things, to flourish only in song; there being in the neighbourhood of the lake no trees uponwhich they could grow. The surprising force of the water, which according to the great historian of Rome sustained the weight even of those who had not learned to buoy themselves up by art, was in a great measure found to exist, and subsequent experiments appear to support the opinion.
Returning thence to Jerusalem, and visiting Bethlehem and the other holy places in its vicinity, they at length departed on the 15th of April for Nazareth, which they found to be an inconsiderable village on the summit of a hill. Their road then lay through their former track until they struck off to the right through a defile of Mount Lebanon, entered the valley of Bocat, and emerged through a gorge of Anti-Libanus into the plain of Damascus, which, watered by “Abana and Pharphar, lucid streams,” unfolded itself before the eye in all that voluptuous beauty glittering in a transparent atmosphere which intoxicated the soul of the Arabian prophet, and caused him to pronounce it too generative of delight. The somewhat colder imagination of Maundrell was strongly moved by the view of this incomparable landscape. The City of the Sun (for such is the signification of its oriental name) lifted up its gilded domes, slender minarets, and tapering kiosks amid a forest of deep verdure; while gardens luxuriant in beauty, and wafting gales of the richest fragrance through the air, covered the plain for thirty miles around the city. The interior of the city was greatly inferior to its environs, and disappointed the traveller.
From Damascus, where they saw the Syrian caravan, commanded by the Pasha of Tripoli, and consisting of an army of pilgrims mounted on camels and quaintly-caparisoned horses, depart for Mecca, they proceeded to Baalbec, where they arrived on the 5th of May. The magnificent ruins of this city were then far less dilapidated than they are at present, and called forth a corresponding degree of admirationfrom the travellers. The site of Baalbec, on the cool side of a valley, between two lofty ridges of mountains, is highly salubrious and beautiful; and the creations of art which formerly adorned it were no way inferior (and this is the highest praise the works of man can receive!) to the beauties which nature eternally reproduces in those delicious regions. Time and the Ottomans, however, have shown that they are less durable.
When a place affords nothing for the contemplation of curiosity but the wrecks of former ages, it usually detains the footsteps of the traveller but a short time; and accordingly Maundrell and his companions quitted Baalbec early next morning, and, penetrating through the snowy defiles of Mount Lebanon into the maritime plains of Syria, arrived in two days at Tripoli. From hence, on the 9th of May, Maundrell departed with a guide to visit the famous cedars so frequently alluded to in the Scriptures, and which, from the prodigious longevity of the tree, may be those which the poets and prophets of Israel viewed with so much admiration. The extreme brevity of the original narrative permits us to describe this excursion in the traveller’s own words:—“Having gone for three hours across the plain of Tripoli, I arrived,” says he, “at the foot of Libanus; and from thence continually ascending, not without great fatigue, came in four hours and a half to a small village called Eden, and in two hours and a half more to the cedars.
“These noble trees grow among the snow, near the highest part of Lebanon, and are remarkable as well for their own age and largeness as for those frequent allusions made to them in the Word of God. Here are some of them very old and of a prodigious bulk, and others younger of a smaller size. Of the former I could reckon up only sixteen, and the latter are very numerous. I measured one of the largest, and found it twelve yards six inches in girth, and yetsound, and thirty-seven yards in the spread of its boughs. At about five or six yards from the ground it was divided into five limbs, each of which was equal to a great tree.”
Descending the mountain, and rejoining his friends at Tripoli, they departed thence together; and returning by the same road which they had pursued in their journey to Jerusalem, they arrived in a few days at Aleppo without accident or peril. Such is the history of that brief excursion, which, being ably and honestly described, has justly ranked Maundrell among celebrated travellers. The date of his death I have been unable to discover. This journey has been translated into several modern languages, and is held in no less estimation abroad than at home.
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