Damascus after Alexander

Whether Alexander was in Damascus, either after the Battle of Issus or on his way from Egypt to Gaugamela, is a debate on its own which I will not tackle here. For now, I’m interested in Damascus after the disintegration of Alexander’s Empire and the imprints left by his successors and the Romans afterward.

After Alexander died in 323, the main competitors in Syria BC were Seleucos and Ptolemy, two of his generals who fought for their share of his empire, during which Damascus regularly changed hands. Seleucos I Nicator established his capital in Antioch-on-the-Orontes, today’s Antakya in Turkey, whereby the power of Damascus was annihilated. Later on, however, Demetrius III Philopator rebuilt Damascus according to the Hippodamian plan and renamed it Demetrias. 

But in 64 BC, Roman Emperor Pompey conquered the western part of Syria and occupied Damascus. He added the city to the others belonging to the Decapolis ( a group of ten cities on the eastern edge of the Roman Empire) as he considered it an important center for Graeco-Roman culture. In 37 AD, however, Caligula gave Damascus to the Nabataeans simply because he didn’t know what to do with it. So it happened that the Nabataean King Aretas IV Philopatris ruled Damascus from his own capital, Petra, till, in 106, the kingdom was finally added to the Roman Empire. Damascus fell under the supervision of Rome, and in 222, it was promoted to “Colonia” by Septimius Severus. The city prospered during the Pax Romana and acted as a caravan stop on the trade routes from southern Arabia, Palmyra, and Petra to and from the Silk Road to China. Damascus was the turning point for all the high-demand luxury goods in Rome.

It is a rainy day in Damascus when I finally leave the souks, which are darker, dirtier, and stuffier than the bazaars of Istanbul. I’m happy to see familiar Corinthian columns and Roman arches from the 2nd-3rd century amidst the many stalls with fruit and vegetables seeking shelter under white and bright blue tarps – a bothersome factor in my photographic eye. The open space after the souks looks confusing, partly because of the merchants offering their goods and partly because of the ruins that don’t match any pattern. The traffic of cars, carts, scooters, and many people with heavy plastic bags fills the square in a hectic cohesion. You don’t know where to look to move across to the opposite side.

The opposite side is, in fact, the exterior wall of the Umayyad Mosque that matches the old 385 x 305 meters precinct that held the colossal Roman Temple of Jupiter. The massive limestone blocks on the lower part are unmistakably Roman. Obsolete entrance gates have been blocked, often leaving only the refined earlier frame decorations. On top of the eastern wall is a Babylonian feature, the so-called merlons, a step-pyramid-like architectural decoration. Each corner of this precinct used to have a defense tower, but when the temple was turned into a mosque, only two towers remained, serving as the base for its square minarets: the Cat Bey Minaret and the Eesa Minaret. This last one is the tallest and is also called the Minaret of Jesus because many Muslims believe that Jesus will appear here on the Day of Judgment. Later, a third square minaret was added, the Arus-Minaret, i.e., the Minaret of the Bride.

Today, the mosque has its own entrances, the most beautiful one reserved for the male believers, whereas the women have to use the side door. Curious tourists like me are led to the back door, of course. The famous Umayyad Mosque occupies a prime spot as it was erected on top of the old Temple of Hadad (1000 BC), the local Semitic god of storms and lightning. Under Roman rule during the first century AD, a new temple dedicated this time to Jupiter was built right on top, making it the largest sanctuary in the east. In Byzantine times in the late 4th century, the Christians replaced the temple with a cathedral consecrated to John the Baptist, and it is said that his head is kept inside in its own precious shrine. 

Nothing changed much after the Muslim conquest of 636 as the believers simply shared the cathedral, the Muslims using the eastern side of the church, and the Christians praying on the west side. But this arrangement changed during the reign of Caliph Al-Walid I of the Umayyads. He thought that the church had become too small for his congregation, and he concluded an agreement with the Christians to purchase their cathedral before taking it down. And so it happened that between 706 and 715, the present mosque was erected. The construction was inspired by the Mosque of Prophet Mohammed in Medina. It became a place for personal and collective worship, religious education, political meetings, administration of justice, and helping the sick and poor. It sounds strange to hear the Caliph asking the Emperor of Byzantium for 200 skilled craftsmen to work on the decoration of his mosque – a Muslim asking a Christian for works of art – but that’s what he did. The Caliph’s request was granted, and the result is this construction that definitely shows Byzantine influences. In the end, thousands of craftsmen were involved, including Byzantine, Coptic, Persian, and Indian. In those days, the mosque was the most impressive and the largest in the Islamic world. It was considered as being one of the wonders of the ancient world.

I know the inner courtyard and mural mosaics only from pictures, and I’m totally unprepared for what I’m about to see. The vast inner square is surrounded on three sides by an arched gallery supported by a mix of pillars that mostly lost their marble covers and by Corinthian columns. The fourth side runs the entire length of the mosque itself. The stunning mosaics representing paradise or possibly the oasis Ghouta made by the Byzantine craftsmen cover the upper part of the gallery's walls. The quality of their work is absolutely superb. They used a combination of colored glass, stones, and marble enhanced with pieces of silver and gold to depict idyllic houses amidst lush green trees and plants along an imaginary stream. It was considered the largest mosaic in the ancient world, covering over 4,000 m2. The four-meter-high wall below the mosaics has generally lost its veined marble, leaving sore holes where the marble plates once were fixed to the rough wall. A separation band decorated with reliefs of vines and grapes separated the marble part from the mosaics, but only a few fragments survived. Because of that strong Byzantine influence, I often feel like walking in Istanbul instead of Damascus!

The octagonal Treasury rests on shortened Corinthian columns in the corner of this vast courtyard. Its walls are entirely covered with mosaics similar to those on the walls and applied on a gold background typical in Byzantine art. It dates from the same time as the construction of the mosque. The libation fountain, however, is more recent and definitely is pure Islamic with its elegant curved roof.

I am very much impressed by this space. The rain has stopped by now, and a shy sun is trying to light up the courtyard adding sparkles to the mosaics, but it is mainly the reflection of the entire complex on the wet marble floor that is so unique. I would never have thought that rain could add so much to the beauty of the place!

By now, it is time to turn to the magnificent Umayyad Mosque itself, whose outside walls match exactly the Roman Temple of Jupiter, 157 meters long and 100 meters wide. The façade carries a Byzantine design, especially around the main entrance, decorated with similar mosaics to the surrounding walls. The mosque is crowned with a cupola with nothing Islamic but looks rather Byzantine. A very unusual but pleasant combination.

When I step inside, the actual size of the mosque really hits me. It’s enormous and surpasses any mosque I’ve seen before. I even find it more powerful and spacious than the Aya Sophia in Istanbul, for instance; this may be due to my mental match with the earlier Temple of Jupiter or the rectangular shape of the sanctuary, which automatically creates an optical space. The prayer hall is divided into three aisles, supported by tall Corinthian columns reused from the previous Temple of Jupiter and from the Church of Mary in Antioch-on-the-Orontes. The interior reminds me of our Christian churches, but here the columns support long wooden beams and a row of short columns on top of them with small arches above the larger ones underneath. I wonder if the Roman temple had a similar wooden ceiling – it could be.

This was one of the first mosques using this kind of layout (the other was the Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem), where the visitors could easily see the mihrab, the minbar, and each other. The interior is generally kept all white, with here and there a few mosaics and geometric motives. This Umayyad Mosque has been rebuilt several times after severe fires broke out, in 1069, 1401, and 1893, the last one damaging most of the large mosaics. What we see today has been partially restored.

Here, Muslim women generously can move freely through the entire left aisle with a special corridor leading to the shrine of John the Baptist and the baptismal font. The men can wander through the largest part, the central and right aisle. In this case, the tourists are genuinely privileged, for they can walk freely throughout the mosque. According to one of the legends, the head of John the Baptist was found when the Christian cathedral was demolished, complete with skin and hair. It has been placed in a wrought shrine, and since it is supposed to possess magical power, people still flock around the shrine to touch the metal grille surrounding it. The floor is, as usual, entirely covered with carpets muffling the sounds, which adds to the serenity of the place. Through an open door, I catch a glance of the courtyard, a contre-jour picture framing a couple of women staring outside. Such a peaceful scene.

In fact, there is nothing left in Damascus that could refer to Hellenistic times, as all traces generally have been erased and supplanted by Roman constructions anyway. We know, however, that the Romans used Greek and Aramaic foundations to lay out Damascus, covering an area of approximately 1,500 x 750 meters inside its protective walls. Damascus counted seven city gates, but only the Bab Sharqi on the east side survived.

Although built according to the Hippodamian plan with straight streets and crossroads, only one such street remains: the “Street Called Straight” or “Via Recta,” running east-west through old Damascus from the Bab Sharqi Gate to the Suq Madhat Pasha Gate, actually 20 meters north of the Bab al-Jabiya Gate at the western end. However, in those days, the street was 26 meters wide and 1.5 km long, flanked by covered porticos with shops. I think it must have looked prettier than the modern souks! Today’s Via Recta is much narrower and lays 4-5 meters above ancient levels.

The monumental Roman arch (or Gate of Sun), approximately 700 meters west of Bab Sharqi, was excavated in 1947 and reconstructed at the present street level, on the exact spot where the Decumanus (now Via Recta) and the Cardo (north-south road) met. On both sides of the Via Recta, remains of the dug-out Roman columns have been put back in place – a very revealing sight! The city gate has kept its Roman features with a wide central arch for cart traffic and two smaller arches on each side for pedestrians. The ancient city walls are generally well preserved, but it is hard to figure out which parts are still Roman and which have been added later. They are a complete mixture of stones, bricks, blocked entrance doors, and opened windows from the houses built against the wall afterward.

This summarizes the Greek and Roman remains of the city. More ruins must be hidden five meters underground, as the excavated city gate and columns along the Via Recta have proven, but if or when future digs will be considered and carried out is a totally different story. Today Damascus has 1.7 million inhabitants, and the very core of the city (within the ancient walls) is very densely populated. I can’t see by what magic archaeologists will ever be able to map out the remains of so many superposed layers of occupation spreading over hundreds of centuries. Not anytime soon, anyway.

[Click here to see all the pictures of Damascus]