WHAT HAS MONTGOMERY

WHAT HAS MONTGOMERY GOT TO DO WITH THE AZEM PALACE?


Today was the Birthday of the Prophet Mohammed, but commercial observance of the holiday was somewhat patchy. Although there was not the usual chaos in the souq, it was not as deserted as it normally is on any Friday.  This holiday obviously does not enjoy the mass celebration which its Christian parallel, Christmas, does. In the Islamic calendar the Eid al-fitr to mark the end of Ramadan and the Eid al-adha which commemorates Abraham’s sacrifice are the major celebrations but there is no injunction to celebrate the birth of the Prophet.

We had planned to visit the Azem Palace which is not far from the great Mosque of the Umayyads but, when we reached the vicinity of the medina and were looking for a place to park, it was clear that, despite the diminished commercial activity, there was considerable movement of another sort which was going to prevent us from finding a convenient spot.  The police were clearing all the streets and waving away hopeful searchers like ourselves.  Eventually we did find a place some way away, but not too far. The security presence was highly conspicuous and the area around the mosque was bristling with armoured vehicles with sophisticated communications equipment and plain-clothes security guards toting sub-machine guns.  Clearly, important government officials and the captains of industry would be attending the service in the mosque!  People were already beginning to gather in the square to stake their claim to a good vantage point.  We continued on our way.

Turning down the right side of the mosque and taking the first street on the right, we soon saw the small square straight ahead where the Azem Palace stands.  Before going in, however, Robert’s attention was drawn by an antique shop just beside it which had many beautiful things piled willy-nilly in the window, among them a few icons.  We went inside to have a look at the merchandise.  A true Aladdin’s cave!  Brass and silver and antique Persian rugs and marquetry furniture and paintings and all kinds of things. And in a small room, a shelf full of icons.  We sifted through them and came upon a fine example of the Madonna and Child.  They wiped it with some oil and the gold leaf gleamed.  A real beauty.  They told us that this was only a small sample of what they stocked and, if we were really interested, they would take us to their home to show us the full collection.  We declined the offer for the moment and continued towards the Azem Palace, though it must be confessed that the icon is a most beautiful piece of religious art and something which it would be a great pleasure to behold.

The Azem Palace jumps one phase in Syrian history, that of the Mamelukes - the slave dynasty which ruled there for two hundred years - and leads us on to the next stage.  The Ottoman family emerged as the most powerful family in Turkey in the fourteenth century and, when they captured Constantinople, the ancient Christian capital, in 1453, the family’s claim to the position of spiritual heirs to the caliphs of old was reinforced. The Ottomans possessed modern machinery of war, such as firearms and heavy artillery, and this technological advantage allowed them to conquer the Mamelukes without much difficulty. The Ottoman period is often described as one of the most brilliant civilizations in the Middle East, but power lay outside and for four hunded years  the area was ruled from Turkey.  When we wonder sometimes about the fiery Arab nationalism often found in the Middle East, we would do well to remember that until recently most countries in the region  had been ruled by outsiders for the best part of nine hundred years!

Construction of the Azem Palace began in 1749 and the building was completed three years later.  This was the residence of the Ottoman governor of Damascus, Assad Pasha al-Azem, and it continued to serve as the seat of government in Syria until Ottoman  rule came to an end.  The building and inner courtyard are a haven of peace amid the  hustle and bustle of the surrounding souqs.  Visually, the building is quite striking because it is built using parallel layers of white limestone and black basalt stone and in practical terms the palace is divided into two distint areas: the public reception area, the salamlek, and the family area or haremlek. The main courtyard, around which the public rooms are situated with a covered gallery in front, is a garden with fountains and a profusion of flowers.  Under the gallery there are seating corners where people could meet during the warm weather.  The interior decoration of the rooms is typically Turkish with elaborately painted wooden ceilings, stucco and carved decoration. Then to the right there is another courtyard belonging to the family area and this part of the palace houses the kitchens, store rooms and other practical places.  


The palace is now a museum, and each of the public rooms is set up to show what life would have been like in those days.  There is a marriage chamber where the bride is  preparing for her wedding with her inlaid chest containing her cosmetics.  There is “mother-in-law’s” room where the mother-in-law is looking after the baby in a cradle while two maids play backgammon sitting on the floor.  In another room the Pasha himself is dispatching with his minister with whom he is not well pleased! Yet another room shows preparations for the pilgrimage to Mecca and the baldachin used is still preserved there.  Elsewhere men sit around drinking coffee, much as they do today!  There is a music room too.  Then, the rooms in the family quarters are set up to show the various trades: copper engraving, glass blowing, silk weaving, leatherworking and so on.  In many cases the techniques used by many of the little artisans in the souq have changed very little.

Once again the human dimension provided an interesting aside.  As we stood admiring a huge balance at the entrance to the main courtyard, having managed for the first time to make our residents’ permits gain access to a national monument for the same price as Syrian nationals pay instead of the usual tourist rate, a little man with a bush of white hair began to explain what the weighing machine was used for and how the weights worked.  Then he said,

“I lived in Liverpool for fifteen years.” He did indeed have a Liverpudlian accent! “I was with Montgomery during the war, you know.  I’m from Aleppo.  When I was eight years old my father sent me to northern India to learn how to weave fine silk. When I came back to Aleppo my father bought me a loom and all the things I needed to set up my workshop.  Then, one day in 1939, two officers came into my workshop and one of them  admired my fine work.  He asked me where I had learned.  When I told him, he said, ‘Then you must speak Urdu.’  ‘I do’, I told him.  Then he said, you must come with me.  I am in charge of all the British troops in the Middle East and I don’t understand anything these Gurkhas say.  What will you pay me. How much do you want?  I asked for thirty guineas.  One guinea a day. That was a fortune in those days.  He agreed and wanted me to go with him at once.  I told him I could not because I would have to roll up my silks and prepare the loom if I was to leave it for a long time.  He agreed to come back for me the next day.

My mother was crying.  She said, ‘You are only fourteen years old, Hassan.  You will go away with this general?  I told her I liked him and wanted to go, so she agreed.  Next day he came for me, but then my father said, ‘And how much are you going to pay me? They negotiated and Montgomery opened his purse and took out one hundred and fifty guineas which he gave to my father.  He was very happy.

We went first to Homs and then to Lebanon and then to Palestine.  We stayed there for some time.  Then we went to Egypt, El Alamein, and then to Italy.  Then we were in Tobrouk and there I was hit by shrapnel.” Here he showed us a shrapnel wound down the side of his jaw.  “Many soldiers were killed there.  I was lucky.  I didn’t die. Just this wound. In 1945 when the war ended, Montgomery said to me, ‘And what are you going to do now, Hassan?’  I told him I wanted to go to England, so he took me there.  I was in Liverpool until 1960.  I know Glasgow and Dublin and many other places.  Then I came back to Aleppo.

I have seven sons.  No daughters. Only sons.  One of my sons is married in Sweden.  He is studying medicine.  He will finish in two more years.  But I don’t think he will come back to Syria.  He is married in Stockholm and they have just had a baby.  I went to Sweden to see her.  I only had sons so I wanted to see my first grand-daughter.  She is lovely.  Her name is Anna.  I am in Damascus today buying silk kilims for my son‘s shop in Aleppo.  The man will come for me at eleven o’clock. I will go to his factory.  Do you want to come? ....

How much is true?  How much is embellishment?  How much is the interweaving of other people’s stories with his own, just as he would have woven the coloured threads of his silk cloth?  Does it matter?  There was certainly more than a kernel of truth in his tale and he enjoyed telling it, and with such pride that it must surely have become true!

July 6th 1998