Excursions to Cairo, Jerusalem, Damascus, and Balbec From the United States Ship Delaware, During Her Recent Cruise: With an Attempt to Discriminate Between Truth and Error in Regard to the Sacred Places of the Holy City

In Short

This book records the 1830s journey of a U.S. Navy chaplain serving aboard the USS Delaware. Traveling from Egypt through the Holy Land to Damascus and Balbec, the author provides a detailed, often vivid, portrait of a region undergoing rapid political and social transition under the rule of Mohammed Ali. It is a work of dual purpose: it serves as both a travel diary for the curious public and a critical, evidence-based inquiry into the historical accuracy of religious sites in Jerusalem, grounded in a deep study of classical sources like Josephus.

The Story

The narrative begins with the departure of a large party of officers and their families from the USS Delaware, embarking on a series of Nile riverboats. The early chapters are marked by the pleasant, leisurely atmosphere of the expedition, as the group drifts past palm groves and samples the local life of Egypt. However, the tone shifts as the author ventures into the darker realities of the region. He recounts his visit to a Cairo madhouse, a harrowing experience that forces him to confront the brutal conditions of the local insane asylum and the desperate, violent acts born of systemic neglect. He balances this grim reality with a broader survey of the modernization efforts spearheaded by Mohammed Ali, detailing the construction of schools and the Pasha’s heavy-handed administration of justice.

As the journey progresses into Syria and the Holy Land, the narrative transitions from political commentary to religious and historical investigation. The author arrives in Jerusalem with a specific mission: to separate long-standing tradition from historical fact. He applies a rigorous, analytical lens to the city’s geography, consulting ancient texts and historical records to map the boundaries of the ancient city against the modern landscape. He rejects the reflexive skepticism of some contemporaries, arguing that the traditional sites of the crucifixion and resurrection are supported by both geographical probability and historical continuity.

The trek continues toward the city of Damascus, described with awe for its natural beauty and its profound connection to biblical history, particularly the life of St. Paul. Along the way, the party encounters eccentric figures, including a recluse living in a state of self-imposed isolation and financial ruin, before reaching the majestic, desolate ruins of Balbec. Throughout these chapters, the author remains sensitive to the changing nature of the East—a land he sees as poised on the cusp of a "wonderful revolution" in its mental and moral character.

The narrative concludes with the author reflecting on the broader implications of his travels. He reconciles his experiences in the ancient East with his identity as an American, using the contrast to champion the virtues of his home country’s institutions, democracy, and technical progress. The book ends on a note of personal farewell, as he expresses a hope that the reader has found the shared journey enlightening, finally stepping back to offer a warm, formal adieu to his audience.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets the scene with the departure of a party of twenty-six travelers on the Nile, describing the comforts of their riverboats and the pleasures of the journey. He captures the camaraderie of the officers and the novelty of their surroundings, establishing an atmosphere of discovery.

Contrasts in Cairo The narrative turns to the harsh realities of Egyptian life, documenting a disturbing visit to a local asylum and the authoritarian rule of the Pasha. These sobering accounts provide a counterpoint to the scenic beauty of the river cruise.

The quest for accuracy The party moves to Jerusalem, where the author shifts his focus to a systematic, scholarly examination of the city’s sacred geography. He engages with historical sources, specifically Josephus, to verify the placement of ancient walls and sites of religious significance.

The road to Damascus The travelers move through the countryside, describing the landscape, local customs, and the encounter with a prominent, albeit isolated, European woman living in D’joun. The author captures the beauty of Damascus and the historical weight of its streets.

Reflections on a changing world The journey terminates with a visit to the ruins of Balbec, prompting the author to synthesize his observations. He closes the account by comparing the stability of the American republic with the volatility and antiquity of the lands he has visited.

The People

The narrative is driven by the author’s own perspective, but several key figures emerge to anchor the reader. The Commodore, who leads the party, represents the authority and organization of the U.S. Navy, facilitating access to sites through his diplomatic standing. The Pasha of Egypt appears as a complex, formidable force; he is depicted as a man of iron-fisted justice, responsible for both brutal executions and ambitious educational reforms. His character serves as a focal point for the author's analysis of Eastern governance.

The author also introduces an intriguing, unnamed woman of status residing in the mountains of D’joun. Her dilapidated estate and reliance on the local consul for financial protection highlight the precariousness of life for foreigners in a changing Levant. Finally, the historical figure of Josephus looms large over the middle chapters. Though long dead, his writings serve as the author’s primary intellectual companion, acting as the mediator between the physical ruins of Jerusalem and the reader’s understanding of their past. Through these figures, the author illustrates the tension between the ancient, static traditions of the region and the encroaching influence of modern, global currents.

In Its Own Voice

“It is a sight not only mortifying to the pride of man, but adapted to harrow up all his feelings of sympathy.”

The author reflects on the haunting conditions he encounters within the cells of a Cairo madhouse.

“The atmosphere in these lands of scanty exhalations is so clear that the Dead Sea and the Jordan appeared to be close to us, and we wondered that the journey to them should be esteemed so toilsome.”

He captures the deceptive nature of the Middle Eastern landscape, where the extreme clarity of the air distorts one's sense of distance.

“It is good sometimes to get far off from our land, so that, as from an elevated spot, we may look over the whole country; and, away from the influence of local prejudice, and interest, and alarms, may scrutinize our institutions.”

The author summarizes the ultimate value he finds in travel, using the distance of the East to re-evaluate the strengths of American society.

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is an argument for the compatibility of faith and reason. The author is deeply invested in the idea that religious sites can be authenticated through scholarly rigor rather than mere blind faith. Beyond this, he is preoccupied with the concept of "modernization" and the inevitable movement of history. He views the Levant as a crucible where the ancient world, defined by religious tradition and despotism, is being slowly dismantled by Western technology and progressive thought. The underlying question is whether the East can preserve its unique cultural and spiritual heritage while simultaneously adopting the engines of change—railroads, schools, and central administration—that the author believes are the hallmarks of a civilized future.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of travel writing will appreciate the author's blend of earnest observation and period-specific didacticism. It is a time capsule of how an American official in the 1830s perceived the Middle East: both as a place of profound biblical resonance and as an underdeveloped region in need of modernization. You will find a voice that is both scholarly and deeply patriotic, often pausing to compare the "desolation" of the East with the burgeoning, vibrant potential of the United States.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the author’s nineteenth-century sensibilities. His views on the local populations and the "despotism" of the Pasha are filtered through a Western, colonial lens that can feel paternalistic or overly critical by contemporary standards. The prose is formal and deliberate, reflecting a time when travel was an ordeal and writing was a serious, moral endeavor. If you are patient with the slow, analytical pacing of the Jerusalem chapters and the occasional didactic turn, you will be rewarded with a clear, honest, and remarkably detailed window into a world that was just beginning to stir toward the modern era. It is a book for those who enjoy the feeling of sitting across from a thoughtful observer, listening to him process the vast, often jarring, distance between his home and the cradle of civilization.