Hidden treasure--The Bedawy’s treasure-trove--The sheikh’s
farewell--A savage tract--_Jebel ed-Druze_--_Umm ez-Zeytûn_--_Tell
Shihân_--_Shuhba_--An ancient house--A stingy entertainer--The
ruins--Pharaoh’s “grain-heaps”--The house of _Shehâb_.
THE lust for treasure, which almost proved fatal to the priest,
is common among all these semi-barbarous people. They are firmly
persuaded that among the black ruins everywhere great hoards lie
buried. Inscriptions, they think, contain directions how the precious
stores are to be found, if they could only be read. But unfortunately
they are in some mysterious speech which only the _Franj_--civilised
foreigners--are supposed to understand. Interest in old ruins, in
architectural remains, in anything that may shed light on former days,
they regard as mere subterfuge. Many travellers have been struck with
their unwillingness to show the whereabouts of inscriptions. They have
a kind of dim hope that one day they may stumble upon the treasure
themselves. Sometimes, however, they become confidential, and offer,
for a consideration, say, half of what is found, to show the traveller
all they know. They tell many stories, with full circumstantial
details, of discoveries of such heaps of gold. The noble metal is
usually found by means of magical incantations, and every stranger is
suspected of being the happy master of some such charm. At other times
a mysterious conjunction of natural circumstances guides the lucky man
to fortune.
One day, riding from _Derʿat_ to Gadara, a Bedawy entertained me with
such a tale. Between these two towns runs the famous old aqueduct
called by the natives _Qanâtîr Firʿaun_--“the arches of Pharaoh.” A
sheikh known to the Bedawy was wont, when a poor boy, to drive the
cattle of which he had charge in the direction of a valley crossed by
the aqueduct. On several evenings some of his cattle were missing, but
in the morning they turned up again. Being sure they had disappeared
about the end of the aqueduct, he seated himself early one morning
on the building at a point commanding the valley, to see if possible
whence his truant cattle should come. Quite near him soon a cow’s nose
appeared, followed by a pair of horns, rising, it seemed, from the
earth. Rushing thither, he found the mouth of a large cave, hidden by
the rough growth of grass and low shrubs. One after another the strayed
members of his herd came forth. Then he entered, and almost swooned
with amazement at the sight within. Great wealth of yellow gold lay
heaped up in a hollow of the rock. He carefully marked the spot and
nursed his secret all day. On returning home at evening, he secretly
informed his father. They came with a horse, under the cloud of night,
and carried off the _hurj_ (saddle-bags) full. Avoiding ostentation to
escape the suspicion of wealth, they bought by slow degrees large herds
of cattle and fine horses, until they ranked among the richest Arab
families. It was believed that the store was not exhausted, but after
that first visit all trace of the cave was lost. My informant had seen
about the place, but could not find the exact spot. He was not without
hope, however, that he might yet get his hands upon that gold. With how
many Arabs it is so. They cherish a vague expectation that one day,
without industry or thrift, they may find themselves suddenly rich.
With their inborn hatred of toil, this idea runs through all their wild
improvident life.
Difficult as it would be for a stranger to find his way without a guide
anywhere in _el-Lejâʾ_, it would be next to impossible in the district
through which we had to pass on leaving _Dama_. Our host therefore told
off one of his retainers, who, armed to the teeth like all his fellows,
rode before us. The good sheikh strictly refused all recompense for his
kindness; but he asked, and we cheerfully gave, a note making known to
all who might read, what hospitable treatment we had received at his
hands. No doubt he hoped that in days of stress this might commend him
to the favour of our people. He had planted the tree, but, alas, was
not destined to see the fruit.
_Shuhba_, where we hoped to sleep that night, lies beyond the
south-eastern border of _el-Lejâʾ_, on a spur of _Jebel ed-Druze_.
We rode over a great breadth of _waʿr_--a dry, rocky region, with
hardly a green thing to be seen. Then we entered a more open country,
with flocks of sheep and goats in search of pasture, following their
scantily-clad shepherds. This was soon passed. The path before us
darkened again, and we found ourselves in the midst of the most
forbidding tract of country we had yet seen. Scorched and blackened by
the elemental fires, the volcanic rocks towered high in great irregular
masses, or stretched out in stone-strewn levels, rent and torn in every
direction into wide chasms, whose horrid, jagged lips seemed yawning to
devour us; while black mounds rose here and there, like the remains of
long-extinguished huge bonfires. Over wide areas not one blade of grass
was seen. This was the scene of Ibrahîm Pasha’s signal defeat. It is
a natural fortress, which a few resolute spirits might easily defend.
Indeed, until one has seen this part, he cannot realise how fully the
district justifies its name, _el-Lejâʾ_--“the refuge” or “retreat.”
Soon after our visit the Druzes had an opportunity of profiting once
again by the impracticable character of the land. How their impetuous
spirit and wild bravery robbed them of the advantage we shall see in
the sequel. One of the first to fall, pierced in the forehead by a
rifle bullet, was our generous entertainer of _Damet el-ʿAliâ_.
The last belt of dark rock safely passed, we came upon flower-strewn
patches resembling those whose brilliant beauty had charmed us on the
other side of _Dama_. Riding on under an oppressive sun, with a wide
prospect over _Haurân_ to the south, beyond the southern coast of
_el-Lejâʾ_, and a striking view of _Jebel ed-Druze_ in its full length
before us, we reached a rocky height overlooking a gently sloping
valley, in the bottom of which we were rejoiced to see the inviting
gleam of water. Crossing the stream, we left _el-Lejâʾ_ behind us, and
rode south-eastward over low-rolling downs of rich soil towards the
base of the mountains. The little village _Umm ez-Zeytûn_ stood on an
eminence to the right. “Mother of Olives” the name means, but none of
her daughters are now visible. A flying visit was paid to the village.
The modern houses, or hovels, are built upon the site of an ancient
city, large and beautifully cut stones from the old ruins contrasting
almost grotesquely with the miserable structures they have been
employed to rear. The Druze inhabitants we found most courteous and
obliging; they answered all questions, and volunteered information as
to the best and shortest roads, apparently out of sheer goodwill.
Burckhardt’s experience on his second visit here was very different.
The thought of treasure had inflamed the people’s minds. When first
there, he copied some inscriptions; ere his return, it was noised
abroad that he had carried off great treasure from _Shuhba_, and,
being unable to take all at once, was coming back for the remainder.
His escape from their hands he attributed to threats as to what would
happen should he be injured, and to the free use of oaths. The latter
was probably more effective than the former, since, inveterate
swearers as all are, there are few who would not be daunted by the
earnest cursings of an injured man. Of the character and strength of
the language then employed some idea may be gathered from such a Psalm
as the hundred and ninth, the very reading of which makes one’s blood
run cold: what must it be to have such curses hurled at one, red-hot
from the flaming heart of a man in wrathful earnest!
Rejoining our companions, we approached the base of a beautifully
formed pyramidical hill, _Tell Shihân_, which rises abruptly from the
plain to a height of some six or seven hundred feet. The gracefully
rounded outline is interrupted near the top, where there is a slight
flattening towards _el-Lejâʾ_. Doubtless from this crater, in the
active volcanic age, the glowing streams flowed westward, to cool into
the stern tracts we had seen. The road resembled those often seen
at home, made of the refuse from smithy fires, the brittle cinders
having withstood exposure to all weathers for millenniums, crunching
cheerfully beneath the horses’ feet. The hill was green to the very
crest. Here for the first time we found by the wayside a species of
iris, from which in our further journeyings we derived no little
pleasure. It is a glorious flower, fully two inches in diameter, the
lovely velvety petals shading off from a dark blue to a delicate
purple. Some were rather lighter in colour. However long the journey,
we never thought the time ill spent in pausing to look at these
wonderful blooms, spreading in the solitudes with the sweet tendance
only of sun and shower, like a veritable “smile of God.”
_Tell Shihân_ fairly rounded, the horses’ feet plashed again in running
water; to the left a little waterfall, white and flashing in the
light, made music in the still air, and just below it stood one of the
mills that haunt the waterfalls like shadows. From this point the path
to _Shuhba_ winds up a steep hillside, among great lava blocks, the
surroundings for a time almost vying in blackness and wildness with the
western parts of _el-Lejâʾ_. The ascent we accomplished under a heavy
thunder-shower, which so thoroughly soaked everything that we were
driven to seek more comfortable quarters than would have been found in
damp tents pitched on muddy ground.
Very imposing are the walls which still in great part surround the old
city; more imposing still is the ancient gateway, by which we entered
from the north, although it is now partially blocked with ruins.
Immediately within the gate, the iron-shod hoofs clanked merrily on
an excellently preserved pavement. This is the great street running
from north to south, dividing the city, and the pavement appears to
be entire. I do not think a better example of this kind of Roman
workmanship is anywhere to be seen. On either hand were the dreary
blackened ruins with which we were now so familiar, while before us we
could see the forms of tall columns rising into the twilight sky. We
saw no trace of inhabitants until we reached the south-western quarter,
which alone is occupied.
[Illustration: SHUHBA, BATHS AND ROMAN PAVEMENT]
Our guide took us straight to the house of the sheikh, who advanced to
meet us with profuse expressions of welcome. Dismounting in the street,
we followed him at his invitation. With difficulty we made our way
dry-shod over a huge pool of rain-water which had collected in front
of the arched doorway, through which we entered a wide courtyard. To
the left stood a rickety erection, in the construction of which some
of the finest materials from the old buildings had been employed. A
broad stairway of large lava blocks led up to it. A roof of branches
and brushwood rested upon gracefully hewn marble pillars, which were
tied together at the top by a rude architrave. These in turn were
supported upon beautiful capitals, turned upside down, and on carved
blocks of stone. The back wall was of the usual mud-built character,
and the pavement was rough in the extreme. A _diwân_ round three sides
doubtless provided sitting accommodation for the sheikh and his friends
in fine weather. Nothing could better mark the low level of the present
inhabitants than their pride in such a bit of ill-fitting, incongruous
patchwork as this, in proximity to the magnificent remains of a past
civilisation.
A strange, rambling old house it was into which we entered by a narrow
winding passage from the left corner of the courtyard. First we found
ourselves in a series of great gloomy apartments communicating with
each other in a line east and west; then, turning to the right, we
scrambled through a doorway, the broken threshold of which was some
feet above the level of the floor; and, pushing forward, we entered a
second courtyard, much smaller than the first, with rooms all round, on
one side two stories high. Some remains of ancient ornamentation were
still visible on the walls, and the pavement of the yard was evidently
from of old. Here were our quarters for the night, the gentlemen having
two little rooms, one of which served as dining-room, on one side, and
the ladies a larger room on the other. The stair leading up to the
gentlemen’s apartments had been failing for centuries, and now was nigh
unto falling; but, observing great caution, we all escaped without
accident.
Our host for this night formed a contrast in every respect to the
dignified and magnanimous chief of _Damet el-ʿAliâ_. A short, thick-set
man, with stubbly white beard, very red nose, and puffy cheeks, he
bustled about with the air of a man who does a very great favour
indeed. With evident pride he displayed his rooms, and fished for
compliments, suggesting that they were beautiful and clean, _mithl
lokanda_--“like a hotel.” Ideas of cleanliness differ, but we avoided
controversy by gently turning the conversation to the subject of our
entertainment This we were allowed to provide for ourselves, even to
the coffee, of which he seemed glad to drink a share. He was one of
the less noble sort; and, his people taking their cue doubtless from
their chief, our servants found it difficult to secure all necessaries
at reasonable prices. But as the night closed darkly around us, and
the mountains were alternately lit up by sheets of blinding lightning
and filled with loud rolling thunder, while the rain fell in torrents,
and the wind whistled eerily among the ruins, we were thankful, even
with all its drawbacks, to be under such substantial shelter. If, for
reasons which need not be specified, we slept but little, we could
all the more realise our good fortune, in that, on these high, open
uplands, we were not exposed to the full fury of the tempest.
The morning broke clear and beautiful, and we were out betimes to make
a rapid survey of the old remains. A few paces north of the chief’s
house we struck the main street running east and west. It seems just
possible, from the remains of bases here and there, that this may once
have been a pillared street like that at _Jerash_, so striking even
in its desolation; or that at Gadara, where the columns lie prone and
broken along the whole length. Following this street eastward, it sinks
rapidly, and passes under a long archway, which might almost be called
a tunnel, strongly built of dressed basalt. This doubtless formed the
substruction of some important public building. A blacksmith has his
workshop in one of the deep cellars in the side of the archway, and
his blazing fire sends cheerful gleams through the gloom. Beyond this
archway eastward lie all the ruins possessing special interest for
the visitor. To the south of the road stands the great amphitheatre.
Carefully built of massive stones, the walls and tiers of seats are
still almost entire. It is the best preserved of all such structures
to be seen east of the Jordan, and it appears to have been one of the
largest. Several poor Druze families were in possession of the lower
parts of the building when we visited it, and very comfortable houses
they made--superior certainly to any of the modern erections around.
We visited in succession a great sunk octagonal building, as to the
use of which we could make no satisfactory guess; the ruins of several
temples, one of which must have been of no ordinary splendour; and the
remains of the _tetrapylon_ which once graced the crossing of the two
main streets. Now only three of the original four massive bases are to
be seen, and the arches have entirely disappeared. We scrambled over
rickety walls and scattered stones, and crawled into noisome crypts
in search of sculpture and inscription. We saw enough to persuade us
that a rich harvest may be gathered here by the patient explorer. Of
the ancient baths which stood in the south-eastern quarter not far
from this crossing, very large portions are still in a good state of
preservation, and form, perhaps, the most interesting part of all the
ruins.
The material employed in their construction, like that of all the
buildings in the city, is basalt, and in parts the appearance is very
fine; but no adequate idea of their original splendour can now be
formed. The rows of gaping holes in the walls tell of the lining of
marble with which they were once adorned. The destruction of this was
doubtless dictated by the desire to possess the iron fastenings by
which the marble slabs were held in position, and the lead by which
these were fixed into the walls--a temptation which the cupidity of the
Arabs would make it extremely difficult for them to resist The water
channels are skilfully built into the walls, and from the points at
which they project we may guess where the baths were placed; but the
floors are now entirely heaped over with ruins. The walls are still
over thirty feet in height, and of great strength. Most interesting
of all, in connection with the baths, is the old aqueduct, by which
the water was conducted across the low valley to the eastward from the
hills beyond. Several of the substantial arches are still standing,
and the line can be traced away towards the eastern uplands. Eleven or
twelve miles was the water brought to minister to the comfort of the
splendid, luxury-loving Roman.
These and other similarly great structures we owe to the ancients’
ignorance of the principles of hydrostatics. Only when we gaze upon
such vast undertakings, where the channel was raised by artificial
means, so that the water might flow along a regularly inclined plane,
do we fully realise what an immense saving of labour the discovery of
these simple principles has proved to the modern world.
The ancients appear to have spent their strength in the erection of
public buildings. The houses of the common people seem to have had
nothing special about them. Built of the ordinary black basaltic stone
which abounds in the neighbourhood, they have long since gone to
ruin, probably in the shocks of earthquakes. West of the town stand
two beautifully formed conical hills. Some of our party who ascended
them found them to be extinct volcanoes--one having a circular,
cup-like crater in the top. Seen from a distance, these hills bear a
striking resemblance to heaps of grain on a great threshing-floor. This
resemblance has not escaped the sharp eyes of the imaginative Arabs,
who call them “the grain-heaps of Pharaoh.” Local tradition associates
them with the name of a notable oppressor of the people, the builder
of the _Qanâtîr Firʿaun_ (“the arches of Pharaoh”), the great aqueduct
which stretches from the neighbourhood of _Nowa_ past _Derʿat_ to
Gadara. Having exhausted the people with taxes for the completion of
this work, he finally seized all the grain in the land and stored it
here, ready for his own purposes. He sent a gigantic camel to fetch it,
and just as the unwieldy animal drew near, the wrath of God was kindled
against Pharaoh, and a bolt from the clouds blasted grain and camel
together, leaving two blackened heaps as monuments of the impotence of
all earthly tyrants before the King of heaven.
This town is believed by many to represent the ancient Philippopolis.
True it is that “Philip the Arabian,” a native of this region, having
been elected emperor by the army in Syria about the middle of the
third century--244-249 A.D.--founded a city in his native country, and
adorned it in Roman fashion. But so little is known with certainty on
the subject, that almost any considerable site in _Haurân_ may claim
the honour, if honour it be. The modern name of _Shuhba_ is said to
be derived from the noble Moslem family of _Shehâb_, who in the early
years of the Mohammedan era came northward from Arabia Felix, and in
their wanderings, before settling in Mount Lebanon, made this city
a temporary home. Relatives of the prophet of Arabia, they received
distinguished honour, and assumed a leading part in the affairs of the
Lebanon. The name of _Emîr Beshîr Shehâb_ was well known in Europe in
the earlier half of the nineteenth century. This prince of all the
Lebanon fell in the year 1840; and the family, already shorn of much of
its glory, went finally down amid the bloody revolutions of 1860.
There is a prevailing belief among the uninstructed in all parts of
the country that the _Franj_--the name given to all Westerns--are
literally loaded with gold. To this belief we owed a somewhat
unpleasant experience. The avaricious old sheikh took counsel with a
faithless one among our attendants, who evidently wished to smooth
the road for his own return by satisfying the cupidity of the natives
at our expense. He advised the sheikh to demand a most outrageous sum
for our entertainment, in which demand the said faithless one should
support him. The arrangement was at once agreed upon. Meantime a second
attendant, who bore no love to the former, having overheard the plot,
revealed the whole. We decided the amount and manner of payment, taking
care that there should be no reasonable ground of complaint. Finding
himself detected, the sheikh’s accomplice ignobly forsook him. When the
money was put into his hand, with expressions of thanks for shelter
afforded, the old man could not conceal his surprise, and it was some
time ere he recovered sufficiently to hint that the sum was small.
Just before we started, a few piastres extra were added, to save what
little of dignity he possessed. He, as well as we, wished everything
done in secret, knowing well that a report of his mean conduct
spreading among his brother sheikhs in _Jebel ed-Druze_ would prove
fatal to his reputation, especially as _Englîze_ were in the question.
This was the only display of meanness or stinginess we met with east of
Jordan; and for even this our own servant was chiefly to blame.